Next morning, we placed our baggage upon the camels, and proceeded to the river side, fully persuaded that we had a miserable day before us. The camels having a horror of the water, it is sometimes impossible to make them get into a boat. You may pull their noses, or nearly kill them with blows, yet not make them advance a step; they would die sooner. The boat before us seemed especially to present almost insurmountable obstacles. It was not flat and large, like those which generally serve as ferry-boats. Its sides were very high, so that the animals were obliged to leap over them at the risk and peril of breaking their legs. If you wanted to move a carriage into it, you had first of all to pull the vehicle to pieces.
The boatmen had already taken hold of our baggage, for the purpose of conveying it into their abominable vehicle, but we stopped them. “Wait a moment; we must first try and get the camels in. If they won’t enter the boat, there is no use in placing the baggage in it.” “Whence came your camels, that they can’t get into people’s boats?” “It matters little whence they came; what we tell you is that the tall white camel has never hitherto consented to cross any river, even in a flat boat.” “Tall camel or short, flat boat or high boat, into the boat the camel shall go,” and so saying, the ferryman ran and fetched an immense cudgel. “Catch hold of the string in the camel’s nose,” cried he to a companion. “We’ll see if we can’t make the brute get into the boat.” The man in the boat hauled at the string; the man behind beat the animal vehemently on the legs with his cudgel, but all to no purpose; the poor camel sent forth piercing cries, and stretched out its long neck. The blood flowed from its nostrils, the sweat from every pore; but not an inch forward would the creature move; yet one step would have placed it in the boat, the sides of which were touched by its fore legs.
We could not endure the painful spectacle. “No more of this,” we cried to the ferryman; “it is useless to beat the animal. You might break its legs or kill it before it would consent to enter your boat.” The two men at once left off, for they were tired, the one of pulling, the other of beating. What were we to do? We had almost made up our minds to ascend the banks of the river until we found some flat boat, when the ferryman all at once jumped up, radiant with an idea. “We will make another attempt,” cried he, “and if that fails I give the matter up. Take the string gently,” he added, to a companion, “and keep the camel’s feet as close as ever you can to the side of the boat.” Then, going back for some paces, he dashed forward with a spring and threw himself with all his weight upon the animal’s rear. The shock, so violent and unexpected, occasioned the camel somewhat to bend its fore legs. A second shock immediately succeeded the first, and the animal, in order to prevent itself from falling into the water, had no remedy but to raise its feet and place them within the boat. This effected, the rest was easy. A few pinches of the nose and a few blows sufficed to impel the hind legs after the fore, and the white camel was at last in the boat, to the extreme satisfaction of all present. The other animals were embarked after the same fashion, and we proceeded on our watery way.