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Authors: Elizabeth Ashton
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plied between Luxor and Aswan. The more usual method of touring by those anxious to see as much as possible in the time available was to fly to the former town and take the boat there. Cairo had been still very hot and Steve had thought the all-river trip would be cooler and more relaxing, and since the
Serapis
had accommodation to spare he had booked it. That was what he had told Noelle, but after Marcia's appearance she was sure he had made an assignation with her and her story about friends letting her down was but a flimsy excuse.
This morning Noelle was not to have the deck to herself; an elderly couple had already availed themselves of its seclusion. English, she thought as she met their slightly hostile stare. The English always resented intrusion, while Continentals welcomed it. She bade them a polite good morning and the man, perceiving she was a pretty girl, responded with a smile.
'Good morning, my dear. I'm Colonel Bates and this is my wife.'
'And I'm Noelle Esm… Prescott.' She was not used to her new name. She sat down on a lounger beside the Colonel, unwilling to go farther afield in case she encountered Steve and Marcia. They exchanged the usual small talk. Then the Colonel tilted his straw hat over his eyes and began to doze. Mrs Bates chatted on about their country cottage in Devonshire; her children, now married, had settled elsewhere. Her hands were busy with cotton and hook; she was crocheting lace. Noelle listened idly, watching the landscape slipping by. This part of the Nile wound through rocky cliffs, which surprised her, as she had expected to see flat sands. Villages clustered at the water's edge, amid palm trees and tamarisks; these with casuarinas and eucalyptus were the only arboreal products of Egypt, where there were no forests of hardwood trees. The natives used camel dung for fuel. It is a mainly agricultural country; cotton, cereals and rice flourish, but principally in the Delta region. In classical times Egypt was one of Rome's chief granaries. The villagers' houses are built of mud brick with unglazed square or round windows. Usually several are joined together, and the flat roofs are used to store everything from mattresses to bundles of reeds, which give them a derelict look. Life among the
fellahin
must be very primitive, Noelle reflected, and felt a little ashamed of the luxury with which she was surrounded. But they did have continual sunshine and warmth to make their lives easier.
She was half asleep when she suddenly became aware that the engines had stopped and the boat was drifting gently back downstream. Mrs Bates was looking alarmed.
'Harry, wake up,' she called. 'We've stopped. Something must be wrong.'
Her husband opened one eye. 'Damned inefficient wogs,' he grumbled. 'Don't panic, my dear, I expect it's only engine trouble.'
'You don't think the boat might blow up?'
'Most unlikely. We've probably run into a crocodile.' He laughed facetiously.
Noelle sat up and listened. She heard raised voices and splashing up forward.
'Do go and see, Harry,' Mrs Bates insisted. 'I'm sure something's happened.'
The Colonel raised himself reluctantly on one elbow, but at that moment the engines started up again and the boat began to move in the right direction.
'There, you see, nothing to make a fuss about,' he said as he settled down again.
The sun increased in power, and Noelle decided to seek the comparative cool inside the lounge. Her companions, who had said they were used to the tropics, seemed impervious to heat, but she had never been able to stand too much sun. Bidding them au revoir, she went down to the lower deck. Green blinds shut out the glare from the lounge and made the light dim. Noelle paused inside the entry, blinking, and a voice beside her made her start violently.
'Good morning, beautiful madam. I trust you slept well. You look fair as the sunshine.'
'I don't feel it,' Noelle returned, 'it's getting very hot.'
As her vision adapted itself to the change
Serapis
had accommodation to spare he had booked it. That was what he had told Noelle, but after Marcia's appearance she was sure he had made an assignation with her and her story about friends letting her down was but a flimsy excuse.
This morning Noelle was not to have the deck to herself; an elderly couple had already availed themselves of its seclusion. English, she thought as she met their slightly hostile stare. The English always resented intrusion, while Continentals welcomed it. She bade them a polite good morning and the man, perceiving she was a pretty girl, responded with a smile.
'Good morning, my dear. I'm Colonel Bates and this is my wife.'
'And I'm Noelle Esm… Prescott.' She was not used to her new name. She sat down on a lounger beside the Colonel, unwilling to go farther afield in case she encountered Steve and Marcia. They exchanged the usual small talk. Then the Colonel tilted his straw hat over his eyes and began to doze. Mrs Bates chatted on about their country cottage in Devonshire; her children, now married, had settled elsewhere. Her hands were busy with cotton and hook; she was crocheting lace. Noelle listened idly, watching the landscape slipping by. This part of the Nile wound through rocky cliffs, which surprised her, as she had expected to see flat sands. Villages clustered at the water's edge, amid palm trees and tamarisks; these with casuarinas and eucalyptus were the only arboreal products of Egypt, where there were no forests of hardwood trees. The natives used camel dung for fuel. It is a mainly agricultural country; cotton, cereals and rice flourish, but principally in the Delta region. In classical times Egypt was one of Rome's chief granaries. The villagers' houses are built of mud brick with unglazed square or round windows. Usually several are joined together, and the flat roofs are used to store everything from mattresses to bundles of reeds, which give them a derelict look. Life among the
fellahin
must be very primitive, Noelle reflected, and felt a little ashamed of the luxury with which she was surrounded. But they did have continual sunshine and warmth to make their lives easier.
She was half asleep when she suddenly became aware that the engines had stopped and the boat was drifting gently back downstream. Mrs Bates was looking alarmed.
'Harry, wake up,' she called. 'We've stopped. Something must be wrong.'
Her husband opened one eye. 'Damned inefficient wogs,' he grumbled. 'Don't panic, my dear, I expect it's only engine trouble.'
'You don't think the boat might blow up?'
'Most unlikely. We've probably run into a crocodile.' He laughed facetiously.
Noelle sat up and listened. She heard raised voices and splashing up forward.
'Do go and see, Harry,' Mrs Bates insisted. 'I'm sure something's happened.'
The Colonel raised himself reluctantly on one elbow, but at that moment the engines started up again and the boat began to move in the right direction.
'There, you see, nothing to make a fuss about,' he said as he settled down again.
The sun increased in power, and Noelle decided to seek the comparative cool inside the lounge. Her companions, who had said they were used to the tropics, seemed impervious to heat, but she had never been able to stand too much sun. Bidding them au revoir, she went down to the lower deck. Green blinds shut out the glare from the lounge and made the light dim. Noelle paused inside the entry, blinking, and a voice beside her made her start violently.
'Good morning, beautiful madam. I trust you slept well. You look fair as the sunshine.'
'I don't feel it,' Noelle returned, 'it's getting very hot.'
As her vision adapted itself to the change
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