he agreed, and we took the wide upper road through wadi messarih, for owais, a group of wells about fifteen miles to the north of yenbo. the hills were beautiful to-day. the rains of december had been abundant, and the warm sun after them had deceived the earth into believing it was spring. so a thin grass had come up in all the hollows and flat places. the blades (single, straight and very slender) shot up between the stones. if a man bent over from his saddle and looked downward he would see no new colour in the ground; but, by looking forward, and getting a distant slope at a flat angle with his eye, he could feel a lively mist of pale green here and there over the surface of slate-blue and brown-red rock. in places the growth was strong, and our painstaking camels had become prosperous, grazing on it.

the starting signal went, but only for us and the ageyl. the other units of the army, standing each man by his couched camel, lined up beside our road, and, as feisal came near, saluted him in silence. he called back cheerfully, ‘peace upon you’, and each head sheikh returned the phrase. when we had passed they mounted, taking the time from their chiefs, and so the forces behind us swelled till there was a line of men and camels winding along the narrow pass towards the watershed for as far back as the eye reached.

feisal’s greetings had been the only sounds before we reached the crest of the rise where the valley opened out and became a gentle forward slope of soft shingle and flint bedded in sand: but there ibn dakhil, the keen sheikh of russ, who had raised this contingent of ageyl two years before to aid turkey, and had brought it over with him intact to the sherif when the revolt came, dropped back a pace or two, marshalled our following into a broad column of ordered ranks, and made the drums strike up. everyone burst out singing a full-throated song in honour of emir feisal and his family.

the march became rather splendid and barbaric. first rode feisal in white, then sharraf at his right in red head-cloth and henna-dyed tunic and cloak, myself on his left in white and scarlet, behind us three banners of faded crimson silk with gilt spikes, behind them the drummers playing a march, and behind them again the wild mass of twelve hundred bouncing camels of the bodyguard, packed as closely as they could move, the men in every variety of coloured clothes and the camels nearly as brilliant in their trappings. we filled the valley to its banks with our flashing stream.

at the mouth of messarih, a messenger rode up with letters to feisal from abd el kader, in yenbo. among them was one three days old for me from the dufferin to say that she would not embark zeid till she had seen me and heard details of the local situation. she was in the sherm, a lonely creek eight miles up the coast from the port, where the officers could play cricket on the beach without the plague of flies pervading yenbo. of course, they cut themselves off from news by staying so far away: it was a point of old friction between us. her well-meaning commander had not the breadth of boyle, the fiery politician and revolutionary constitutionalist, nor the brain of linberry, of the hardinge, who filled himself with the shore gossip of every port he touched, and who took pains to understand the nature of all classes on his beat.

apparently i had better race off to dufferin and regulate affairs. zeid was a nice fellow, but would assuredly do something quaint in his enforced holiday; and we needed peace just then. feisal sent some ageyl with me and we made speed for yenbo: indeed, i got there in three hours, leaving my disgusted escort (who said they would wear out neither camels nor bottoms for my impatience) half way back on the road across the plain so wearily well known to me. the sun, which had been delightful overhead in the hills, now, in the evening, shone straight into our faces with a white fury, before which i had to press my hand as shield over my eyes. feisal had given me a racing camel (a present from the emir of nejd to his father), the finest and roughest animal i had ridden. later she died of overwork, mange, and necessary neglect on the road to akaba.

on arrival in yenbo things were not as expected. zeid had been embarked, and the dufferin had started that morning for rabegh. so i sat down to count what we needed of naval help on the way to wejh, and to scheme out means of transport. feisal had promised to wait at owais till he got my report that everything was ready.

the first check was a conflict between the civil and military powers. abd el kader, the energetic but temperamental governor, had been cluttered up with duties as our base grew in size, till feisal added to him a military commandant, tewfik bey, a syrian from horns, to care for ordnance stores. unfortunately, there was no arbiter to define ordnance stores. that morning they fell out over empty arms-chests. abd el kadir locked the store and went to lunch. tewfik came down to the quay with four men, a machine-gun and a sledge hammer, and opened the door. abd el kader got into a boat, rowed out to the british guardship — the tiny espiegle— and told her embarrassed but hospitable captain that he had come to stay. his servant brought him food from the shore and he slept the night in a camp-bed on the quarter-deck.

i wanted to hurry, so began to solve the deadlock by making abd el kadir write to feisal for his decision and by making tewfik hand over the store to me. we brought the trawler arethusa near the sloop, that abd el kader might direct the loading of the disputed chests from his ship, and lastly brought tewfik off to the espiegle for a temporary reconciliation. it was made easy by an accident, for, as tewfik saluted his guard of honour at the gangway (not strictly regular, this guard, but politic), his face beamed and he said: this ship captured me at kurna, pointing to the trophy of the nameplate of the turkish gunboat marmaris, which the espiegle had sunk in action on the tigris. abd el kadir was as interested in the tale as tewfik, and the trouble ceased.

sharraf came into yenbo next day as emir, in feisal’s place. he was a powerful man, perhaps the most capable of all the sherifs in the army, but devoid of ambition: acting out of duty, not from impulse. he was rich, and had been for years chief justice of the sherifs court. he knew and handled tribesmen better than any man, and they feared him, for he was severe and impartial, and his face was sinister, with a left eyebrow which drooped (the effect of an old blow) and gave him an air of forbidding hardness. the surgeon of the suva operated on the eye and repaired much of the damage, but the face remained one to rebuke liberties or weakness. i found him good to work with, very clear-headed, wise and kind, with a pleasant smile-his mouth became soft then, while his eyes remained terrible-and a determination to do fittingly, always.

we agreed that the risk of the fall of yenbo while we hunted wejh was great, and that it would be wise to empty it of stores. boyle gave me an opportunity by signalling that either dufferin or hardinge would be made available for transport. i replied that as difficulties would be severe i preferred hardinge! captain warren, whose ship intercepted the message, felt it superfluous, but it brought along hardinge in the best temper two days later. she was an indian troop-ship, and her lowest troop-deck had great square ports along the water level. linberry opened these for us, and we stuffed straight in eight thousand rifles, three million rounds of ammunition, thousands of shells, quantities of rice and flour, a shed-full of uniforms, two tons of high explosive, and all our petrol, pell-mell. it was like posting letters in a box. in no time she had taken a thousand tons of stuff.

boyle came in eager for news. he promised the hardinge as depot ship throughout, to land food and water whenever needed, and this solved the main difficulty. the navy were already collecting. half the red sea fleet would be present. the admiral was expected and landing parties were being drilled on every ship. everyone was dyeing white duck khaki-coloured, or sharpening bayonets, or practising with rifles.

i hoped silently, in their despite, that there would be no fighting. feisal had nearly ten thousand men, enough to fill the whole billi country with armed parties and carry off everything not too heavy or too hot. the billi knew it, and were now profuse in their loyalties to the sherif, completely converted to arab nationality.

it was sure that we would take wejh: the fear was lest numbers of feisal’s host die of hunger or thirst on the way. supply was my business, and rather a responsibility. however, the country to urn lejj, half way, was friendly: nothing tragic could happen so far as that: therefore, we sent word to feisal that all was ready, and he left owais on the very day that abdulla replied welcoming the ais plan and promising an immediate start thither. the same day came news of my relief. newcombe, the regular colonel being sent to hejaz as chief of our military mission, had arrived in egypt, and his two staff officers, cox and vickery, were actually on their way down the red sea, to join this expedition.

boyle took me to um lejj in the suva, and we went ashore to get the news. the sheikh told us that feisal would arrive to-day, at bir el waheidi, the water supply, four miles inland. we sent up a message for him and then walked over to the fort which boyle had shelled some months before from the fox. it was just a rubble barrack, and boyle looked at the ruins and said: tm rather ashamed of myself for smashing such a potty place.’ he was a very professional officer, alert, businesslike and official; sometimes a little intolerant of easy-going things and people. red-haired men are seldom patient. ‘ginger boyle’, as they called him, was warm.

while we were looking over the ruins four grey ragged elders of the village came up and asked leave to speak. they said that some months before a sudden two-funnelled ship had come up and destroyed their fort. they were now required to re-build it for the police of the arab government. might they ask the generous captain of this peaceable one-funnelled ship for a little timber, or for other material help towards the restoration? boyle was restless at their long speech, and snapped at me, what is it? what do they want?’ i said, ‘nothing; they were describing the terrible effect of the fox’s bombardment.’ boyle looked round him for a moment and smiled grimly, ‘it’s a fair mess’.

next day vickery arrived. he was a gunner, and in his ten years’ service in the sudan had learned arabic, both literary and colloquial, so well that he would quit us of all need of an interpreter. we arranged to go up with boyle to feisal’s camp to make the timetable for the attack, and after lunch englishmen and arabs got to work and discussed the remaining march to wejh.

we decided to break the army into sections: and that these should proceed independently to our concentration place of abu zereibat in hamdh, after which there was no water before wejh; but boyle agreed that the hardinge should take station for a single night in sherm habban — supposed to be a possible harbour — and land twenty tons of water for us on the beach. so that was settled.

for the attack on wejh we offered boyle an arab landing party of several hundred harb and juheina peasantry and freed men, under saleh ibn shefia, a negroid boy of good courage (with the faculty of friendliness) who kept his men in reasonable order by conjurations and appeals, and never minded how much his own dignity was outraged by them or by us. boyle accepted them and decided to put them on another deck of the many-stomached hardinge. they, with the naval party, would land north of the town, where the turks had no post to block a landing, and whence wejh and its harbour were best turned.

boyle would have at least six ships, with fifty guns to occupy the turks’ minds, and a seaplane ship to direct the guns. we would be at abu zereibat on the twentieth of the month: at habban for the hardinge’s water on the twenty-second: and the landing party should go ashore at dawn on the twenty-third, by which time our mounted men would have closed all roads of escape from the town.

the news from rabegh was good; and the turks had made no attempt to profit by the nakedness of yenbo. these were our hazards, and when boyle’s wireless set them at rest we were mightily encouraged. abdulla was almost in ais: we were half-way to wejh: the initiative had passed to the arabs. i was so joyous that for a moment i forgot my self-control, and said exultingly that in a year we would be tapping on the gates of damascus. a chill came over the feeling in the tent and my hopefulness died. later, i heard that vickery had gone to boyle and vehemently condemned me as a braggart and visionary; but, though the outburst was foolish, it was not an impossible dream, for five months later i was in damascus, and a year after that i was its de facto governor.

vickery had disappointed me, and i had angered him. he knew i was militarily incompetent and thought me politically absurd. i knew he was the trained soldier our cause needed, and yet he seemed blind to its power. the arabs nearly made shipwreck through this blindness of european advisers, who would not see that rebellion was not war: indeed, was more of the nature of peace — a national strike perhaps. the conjunction of semites, an idea, and an armed prophet held illimitable possibilities; in skilled hands it would have been, not damascus, but constantinople which was reached in 1918.