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Behind the funnel on deck, where our quarters lay, it was 125 degrees, and the awning did not do much towards keeping out the burden of the sun. The country through which we passed was green-tinged with sparse palms, and absolutely flat. In the river were long strings of mahallas, being towed by teams of Arabs. These craft may take sixteen days to reach Amara.
The ground in our neighbourhood was so undermined by floods that on one occasion one of these cars, standing empty, suddenly broke through the upper crust up to its axles. A great deal of perspiration flowed before it was extricated. In the meanwhile the creek was full of mahallas loading up equipment, for we had received orders to go higher up-river.
A hospital had not been expected, and we passed the next day in idleness. On the third day our four hundred tons of stuff were swung off into mahallas, the native barges, which are wide craft decorated with carving and paint, both stem and stern pointed and high out of the water, and amidships close down to the water-line. The Arabs squatting on the painted poops of these ships seemed sullen.
The atmosphere became dun-coloured, thickened at places into opaque and rushing veils. Under the pressure of the strong, hot wind the big mahallas, with their white sails in tense curves, careered down the river with only a streak of white foam under the prow to show they were not suspended in the air. The further bank, pale and unsubstantial, was outlined fitfully in the hurrying gloom.
Beyond Kurna the Tigris takes some immense curves so that at times you seem to see the sails of mahallas all round the horizon. We lay on deck, staring idly at the unvarying landscape which quivered under the sun. Occasionally Arab villages were passed, constructed out of the matting made from reeds, which is a local industry. The reeds grow in big patches all the way up the river banks.
The creek was full of the mahallas that had brought up our equipment, and for the rest of that day our men toiled and sweated over the crates and boxes, and bedsteads and bales of blankets, singing in monotone a rhythmic refrain in imitation of the native coolies when carrying loads. The native chants are simple. Singer: "To-morrow we will eat rice and meat!" Chorus: "May Allah grant it!"
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