Reis could not undertake to steer against it; but he added, "It will veer round to the south again by midnight, and then we shall reach Hâifa in eight or ten hours." It was still very early. We strolled leisurely through the town. The people were just beginning to stir. The shutters of the shops in the bazars were being lifted up—they are like flap-doors attached by rude hinges to the beams above the shop-fronts, and when opened and propped up, they form excellent shades, which are easily dropped down and secured at night.
On my return to the Consulate, I found two of the women-servants making bread, sitting on the ground at a low circular wooden board. One of them moistened some flour with water, another added salt, and a small piece of leavened dough—to "leaven the whole lump "—and then kneaded it vigorously in turn with her companion. It was left to rise, and then the two eldest daughters of Dr. Kayat divided it into portions, rolled them into little round loaves, which were carried away to the oven on large round trays made of reeds, bound together with strong grass.
We prepared ourselves for the journey, and then went to rest early, without undressing. At midnight the Reis sent for us, and immediately we went out into the darkness, with Nasif and three or four lantern-bearers. I noticed a number of men, wrapped in lehaffs, sleeping on low stone platforms, or by the side of kneeling camels, in the streets near the quay. The Mutsellim, or governor, was parading the place. Nasif told me that he did so at irregular intervals, sometimes in disguise, so as to see the state of the town at night, and to ascertain, by personal observation, whether the guards did their duty. We met the two Carmelite monks on the dark wharf, and the great water-gate was opened for us. I was somehow dropped gently into a little rowing-boat far down in the darkness below, where I was taken charge of by two brawny boat men. After much shouting and jolting we were all huddled
