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Philippe Martin
Kubernetes Programming with Go: Programming Kubernetes Clients and Operators
Using Go and the Kubernetes API
Philippe Martin
Blanquefort, France
Introduction������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������xix
v
Table of Contents
vi
Table of Contents
Toleration������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 65
Well-Known Labels���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 66
Writing Kubernetes Resources in Go������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 67
Importing the Package���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 67
The TypeMeta Fields�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 68
The ObjectMeta Fields����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 69
Spec and Status�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 76
Comparison with Writing YAML Manifests����������������������������������������������������������������������������� 76
A Complete Example������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 78
Conclusion���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 83
vii
Table of Contents
Conversion��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 101
Serialization������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 103
RESTMapper����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 105
Kind to Resource����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 106
Resource to Kind����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 107
Finding Resources��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 107
The DefaultRESTMapper Implementation���������������������������������������������������������������������������� 107
Conclusion�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 108
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Table of Contents
x
Table of Contents
xi
Table of Contents
Index��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 309
xii
About the Author
Philippe Martin has been working with Kubernetes for
five years, first by creating an Operator to deploy video
CDNs into the cloud, later helping companies deploy their
applications into Kubernetes, then writing a Client to help
developers work in a Kubernetes environment. Philippe
has passed the CKAD, CKA, and CKS certifications. He has
extensive experience with distributed systems and open-
source software: he started his career 20 years ago creating
thin clients based on the Linux kernel and open-source
components. He is currently working at Red Hat on the
Development Tools team.
Philippe has been active in the development of Kubernetes, especially its
documentation, and participates in the translation of the official documentation into
French, has edited two reference books about the Kubernetes API and kubectl, and is
responsible for the French translation of the Kubernetes Dashboard. He participated in
Google Season of Docs to create the new Kubernetes API Reference section of the official
documentation and is maintaining it.
xiii
About the Technical Reviewers
Bartosz Majsak writes code for fun and profit while proudly
wearing a red fedora (also known as the Red Hat). He has
been long-time open-source contributor and Java developer
turned into Golang aficionado. Bartosz is overly enthusiastic
about coffee, open source, and speaking at conferences,
not necessarily in that order. One thing that perhaps proves
he is not a total geek is his addiction to alpine skiing (and
running).
xv
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the whole Anevia “CDN” team who started working with me on
Kubernetes back in 2018: David, Ansou, Hossam, Yassine, Étienne, Jason, and Michaël.
Special thanks to Damien Lucas for initiating this project and for having trusted us with
this challenge.
My discovery of Kubernetes has been much easier and pleasant thanks to the TGIK
channel and its numerous episodes, hosted by Joe Beda, Kris Nova, and many others.
Plus, thanks to all the Kubernetes community for such a great ecosystem!
xvii
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different content
belly. The drivers run behind them with a short stick, punching them
from time to time, or giving them a sharp pinch on the rump. Very
few of them own their donkeys, and I understood their pertinacity
when I learned that they frequently received a beating on returning
home in the evening empty-handed.
The passage of the bazaars seems at first quite as hazardous on
donkey-back as on foot, but it is the difference between knocking
somebody down and being knocked down yourself, and one
naturally prefers the former alternative. There is no use in attempting
to guide the donkey, for he won’t be guided. The driver shouts
behind, and you are dashed at full speed into a confusion of other
donkeys, camels, horses, carts, water-carriers and footmen. In vain
you cry out: “Bess!” (enough!) “Piano!” and other desperate
adjurations; the driver’s only reply is: “Let the bridle hang loose!” You
dodge your head under a camel-load of planks; your leg brushes the
wheel of a dust-cart; you strike a fat Turk plump in the back; you
miraculously escape upsetting a fruit-stand; you scatter a company
of spectral, white-masked women, and at last reach some more quiet
street, with the sensation of a man who has stormed a battery. At
first this sort of riding made me very nervous, but finally I let the
donkey go his own way, and took a curious interest in seeing how
near a chance I ran of striking or being struck. Sometimes there
seemed no hope of avoiding a violent collision, but by a series of the
most remarkable dodges he generally carried me through in safety.
The cries of the driver, running behind, gave me no little amusement:
“The Howadji comes! Take care on the right hand! take care on the
left hand! O man, take care! O maiden, take care! O boy, get out of
the way! The Howadji comes!” Kish had strong lungs and his donkey
would let nothing pass him, and so, wherever we went, we
contributed our full share to the universal noise and confusion.
Cairo is the cleanest of all oriental cities. The regulations
established by Mohammed Ali are strictly carried out. Each man is
obliged to sweep before his own door, and the dirt is carried away in
carts every morning. Besides this, the streets are watered several
times a day, and are nearly always cool and free from dust. The
constant evaporation of the water, however, is said to be injurious to
the eyes of the inhabitants, though in other respects the city is
healthy. The quantity of sore-eyed, cross-eyed, one-eyed, and totally
blind persons one meets every where, is surprising. There are some
beggars, mostly old or deformed, but by no means so abundant or
impertinent as in the Italian cities. A number of shabby policemen, in
blue frock-coats and white pantaloons, parade the principal
thoroughfares, but I never saw their services called into requisition.
The soldiers, who wear a European dress of white cotton, are by far
the most awkward and unpicturesque class. Even the Fellah, whose
single brown garment hangs loose from his shoulders to his knees,
has an air of dignity compared with these Frankish caricatures. The
genuine Egyptian costume, which bears considerable resemblance
to the Greek, and especially the Hydriote, is simple and graceful.
The colors are dark—principally brown, blue, green and violet—
relieved by a heavy silk sash of some gay pattern, and by the red
slippers and tarboosh. But, as in Turkey, the Pashas and Beys, and
many of the minor officers of the civil departments have adopted the
Frank dress, retaining only the tarboosh,—a change which is by no
means becoming to them. I went into an Egyptian barber-shop one
day, to have my hair shorn, and enjoyed the preparatory pipe and
coffee in company with two individuals, whom I supposed to be
French or Italians of the vulgar order, until the barber combed out the
long locks on the top of their head, by which Mussulmen expect to
be lifted up into Paradise. When they had gone, the man informed
me that one was Khalim Pasha, one of the grandsons of Mohammed
Ali, and the other a Bey, of considerable notoriety. The Egyptians
certainly do not gain any thing by adopting a costume which, in this
climate, is neither so convenient nor so agreeable as their own.
Besides the animated life of the bazaars, which I had an
opportunity of seeing, in making my outfit for the winter’s journey, I
rarely went out without witnessing some incident or ceremony
illustrative of Egyptian character and customs. One morning I
encountered a stately procession, with music and banners,
accompanying a venerable personage, with a green turban on his
head and a long white beard flowing over his breast. This, as Kish
assured me, was the Shereef of Mecca. He was attended by officers
in the richest Turkish and Egyptian costumes, mounted on splendid
Arabian steeds, who were almost hidden under their broad housings
of green and crimson velvet, embroidered with gold. The people on
all sides, as he passed, laid their hands on their breasts and bowed
low, which he answered by slowly lifting his hand. It was a simple
motion, but nothing could have been more calm and majestic.
On another occasion, I met a bridal procession in the streets of
Boulak. Three musicians, playing on piercing flutes, headed the
march, followed by the parents of the bride, who, surrounded by her
maids, walked under a crimson canopy. She was shrouded from
head to foot in a red robe, over which a gilded diadem was fastened
around her head. A large crowd of friends and relatives closed the
procession, close behind which followed another, of very different
character. The chief actors were four boys, of five or six years old, on
their way to be circumcised. Each was mounted on a handsome
horse, and wore the gala garments of a full-grown man, in which
their little bodies were entirely lost. The proud parents marched by
their sides, supporting them, and occasionally holding to their lips
bottles of milk and sherbet. One was a jet black Nubian, who
seemed particularly delighted with his situation, and grinned on all
sides as he passed along. This procession was headed by a
buffoon, who carried a laugh with him which opened a ready
passage through the crowd. A man followed balancing on his chin a
long pole crowned with a bunch of flowers. He came to me for
backsheesh. His success brought me two swordsmen out of the
procession, who cut at each other with scimitars and caught the
blows on their shields. The coolness, swiftness and skill with which
they parried the strokes was really admirable, and the concluding
flourish was a masterpiece. One of them, striking with the full sweep
of his arm, aimed directly at the face of the other, as if to divide his
head into two parts; but without making a pause, the glittering
weapon turned, and sliced the air within half an inch of his eyes. The
man neither winked nor moved a muscle of his face, but after the
scimitar had passed, dashed it up with his shield, which he then
reversed, and dropping on one knee, held to me for backsheesh.
After these came a camel, with a tuft of ostrich feathers on his head
and a boy on his back, who pounded vigorously on two wooden
drums with one hand, while he stretched the other down to me for
backsheesh. Luckily the little candidates for circumcision were too
busily engaged with their milk bottles and sugar-plums, to join in the
universal cry.
I had little time to devote to the sights of Cairo, and was obliged to
omit the excursions to the Petrified Forest, to Heliopolis and Old
Cairo, until my return. Besides the city itself, which was always full of
interest, I saw little else except the Citadel and the Island of Rhoda.
We took the early morning for our ride to the former place, and were
fortunate enough to find our view of the Nile-plain unobscured by the
mists customary at this season. The morning light is most favorable
to the landscape, which lies wholly to the westward. The shadows of
the Citadel and the crests of the Mokattam Hills then lie broad and
cool over the city, but do not touch its minarets, which glitter in the air
like shafts of white and rosy flame. The populace is up and stirring,
and you can hear the cries of the donkeymen and water-carriers
from under the sycamores and acacias that shade the road to
Boulak. Over the rich palm-gardens, the blue streak of the river and
the plain beyond, you see the phantoms of two pyramids in the haze
which still curtains the Libyan Desert. Northward, beyond the parks
and palaces of Shoobra, the Nile stretches his two great arms
toward the sea, dotted, far into the distance, with sails that flash in
the sun. From no other point, and at no other time, is Cairo so grand
and beautiful.
Within the walls of the Citadel is the Bir Youssef—Joseph’s Well—
as it is called by the Arabs, not from the virtuous Hebrew, but from
Sultan Saladin, who dug it out and put it in operation. The well itself
dates from the old Egyptian time, but was filled with sand and
entirely lost for many centuries. It consists of an upper and lower
shaft, cut through the solid rock, to the depth of two hundred and
sixty feet. A winding gallery, lighted from the shaft, extends to the
bottom of the first division, where, in a chamber cut in the rock, a
mule turns the large wheel which brings up a continual string of
buckets from the fountain below. The water is poured into a spacious
basin, and carried thence to the top by another string of buckets set
in motion at the surface. Attended by two Arabs with torches, we
made the descent of the first shaft and took a drink of the fresh, cool
fluid. This well, and the spot where the Mameluke Emin Bey jumped
his horse over the wall and escaped the massacre of his comrades,
are the only interesting historical points about the Citadel; and the
new mosque of Mohammed Ali, which overlooks the city from the
most projecting platform of the fortifications, is the only part which
has any claim to architectural beauty. Although it has been in
process of erection for many years, this mosque is not nearly
completed internally. The exterior is finished, and its large, white,
depressed dome, flanked by minarets so tall and reed-like that they
seem ready to bend with every breeze, is the first signal of Cairo to
travellers coming up or down the Nile. The interior walls are lined
throughout with oriental alabaster, stained with the orange flush of
Egyptian sunsets, and the three domes blaze with elaborate
arabesques of green, blue, crimson and gold. In a temporary
chamber, fitted up in one corner, rests the coffin of Mohammed Ali,
covered with a heavy velvet pall, and under the marble arches
before it, a company of priests, squatted on the green carpet
covering the floor, bow their heads continually and recite prayers or
fragments of the Koran.
Before descending into the city, I rode a little way into the Desert
to the tombs of the Caliphs, on the road to Suez. They consist mostly
of stone canopies raised on pillars, with mosques or oratories
attached to them, exhibiting considerable variety in their design, but
are more curious than impressive. The track in the sand made by the
pilgrims to Mecca and the overland passengers to Suez, had far
more real interest in my eyes. The pilgrims are fewer, and the
passengers more numerous, with each successive year. English-
built omnibuses, whirled along by galloping post-horses, scatter the
sand, and in the midst of the herbless Desert, the travellers regale
themselves with beef-steak and ale, and growl if the accustomed
Cheshire is found wanting. At this rate, how long will it be before
there is a telegraph-station in Mecca, and the operator explodes with
his wire a cannon on the Citadel of Cairo, to announce that the
prayers on Mount Arafat have commenced?
The Island of Rhoda, which I visited on a soft, golden afternoon, is
but a reminiscence of what it was a few years ago. Since Ibrahim
Pasha’s death it has been wholly neglected, and though we found a
few gardeners at work, digging up the sodden flower-beds and
clipping the rank myrtle hedges, they only served to make the
neglect more palpable. During the recent inundation, the Nile had
risen to within a few inches of covering the whole island, and the soil
was still soft and clammy. Nearly all the growths of the tropics are
nurtured here; the coffee, the Indian fig, the mango, and other trees
alternate with the palm, orange, acacia, and the yellow mimosa,
whose blossoms make the isle fragrant. I gathered a bunch of roses
and jasmine-flowers from the unpruned vines. In the centre of the
garden is an artificial grotto lined with shells, many of which have
been broken off and carried away by ridiculous tourists. There is no
limit to human silliness, as I have wisely concluded, after seeing
Pompey’s Pillar disfigured by “Isaac Jones” (or some equally classic
name), in capitals of black paint, a yard long, and finding “Jenny
Lind” equally prominent on the topmost stone of the great Pyramid
(Of course, the enthusiastic artist chiselled his own name beside
hers.) A mallet and chisel are often to be found in the outfits of
English and American travellers, and to judge from the frequency of
certain names, and the pains bestowed upon their inscription, the
owners must have spent the most of their time in Upper Egypt, in
leaving records of their vulgar vanity.
CHAPTER IV.
PREPARATIONS FOR THE JOURNEY INTO
CENTRAL AFRICA.
I devoted but little time to seeing Cairo, for the travelling season
had arrived, and a speedy departure from Cairo was absolutely
necessary. The trip to Khartoum occupies at least two months and it
is not safe to remain there later than the first of March, on account of
the heat and the rainy season, which is very unhealthy for strangers.
Dr. Knoblecher, the Catholic Apostolic Vicar for Central Africa, had
left about a month previous, on his expedition to the sources of the
White Nile. I therefore went zealously to work, and in five days my
preparations were nearly completed. I prevailed upon the European
of our triad, who had intended proceeding no further than Cairo, to
join me for the voyage to Assouan, on the Nubian frontier, and our
first care was to engage a good dahabiyeh, or Nile-boat. This
arrangement gave me great joy, for nowhere is a congenial comrade
so desirable as on the Nile. My friend appreciated the river, and
without the prospect of seeing Thebes, Ombos and Philæ, would
have cheerfully borne all the inconveniences and delays of the
journey, for the Nile’s sake alone. Commend me to such a man, for
of the hundreds of tourists who visit the East, there are few such! On
my arrival, I had found that the rumors I had heard on the road
respecting the number of travellers and the rise in the price of boats,
were partially true. Not more than a dozen boats had left for Upper
Egypt, but the price had been raised in anticipation. The ship
carpenters and painters were busily employed all along the shore at
Boulak, in renovating the old barks or building new ones, and the
Beys and Pashas who owned the craft were anticipating a good
harvest. Some travellers paid forty-five pounds a month for their
vessels, but I found little difficulty in getting a large and convenient
boat, for two persons, at twenty pounds a month. This price, it should
be understood, includes the services of ten men, who find their own
provisions, and only receive a gratuity in case of good behavior. The
American Consul, Mr. Kahil, had kindly obtained for me the promise
of a bark from Ismaïl Pasha, before our arrival—a superb vessel,
furnished with beds, tables, chairs and divans, in a very handsome
style—which was offered at thirty pounds a month, but it was much
larger than we needed. In the course of my inspection of the fleet of
barks at Boulak, I found several which might be had at fifteen, and
seventeen pounds a month, but they were old, inconvenient, and full
of vermin. Our boat, which I named the Cleopatra, had been newly
cleansed and painted, and contained, besides a spacious cabin, with
beds and divans, a sort of portico on the outside, with cushioned
seats, where we proposed to sit during the balmy twilights, and
smoke our shebooks.
Without a tolerable knowledge of Arabic, a dragoman is
indispensable. The few phrases I had picked up, on the way from
Alexandria, availed me little, and would have been useless in Nubia,
where either the Berberi language, or a different Arabic dialect is
spoken; and I therefore engaged a dragoman for the journey. This
class of persons always swarm in Cairo, and I had not been there a
day before I was visited by half a dozen, who were anxious to make
the trip to Khartoum. How they knew I was going there, I cannot
imagine; but I found that they knew the plans of every traveller in
Cairo as well. I endeavored to find one who had already made the
journey, but of all who presented themselves, only two had been
farther than the second Cataract. One of these was a Nubian, who
had made a trip with the Sennaar merchants, as far as Shendy, in
Ethiopia; but he had a sinister, treacherous face, and I refused him at
once. The other was an old man, named Suleyman Ali, who had
been for three years a servant of Champollion, whose certificate of
his faithfulness and honesty he produced.
He had been three years in Sennaar, and in addition to Italian, (the
only Frank tongue he knew), spoke several Ethiopian dialects. He
was a fine, venerable figure, with an honest face, and I had almost
decided to take him, when I learned that he was in feeble health and
would scarcely be able to endure the hardships of the journey. I
finally made choice of a dark Egyptian, born in the valley of Thebes.
He was called Achmet el Saïdi, or Achmet of Upper Egypt, and when
a boy had been for several years a servant in the house of the
English Consul at Alexandria. He spoke English fluently, as well as a
little Italian and Turkish. I was first attracted to him by his bold, manly
face, and finding that his recommendations were excellent, and that
he had sufficient spirit, courage and address to serve us both in case
of peril, I engaged him, notwithstanding he had never travelled
beyond Wadi Halfa (the Second Cataract). I judged, however, that I
was quite as familiar with the geography of Central Africa as any
dragoman I could procure, and that, in any case, I should find it best
to form my own plans and choose my own paths. How far I was
justified in my choice, will appear in the course of the narrative.
The next step was to procure a double outfit—for the Nile and the
Desert—and herein Achmet, who had twice made the journey to
Mount Sinai and Petra, rendered me good service. I had some
general knowledge of what was necessary, but without the
advantage of his practical experience, should have been very
imperfectly prepared. As it was, many things were forgotten in the
haste of departure, the need of which I felt when it was too late to
procure them. I had been prudent enough, when in Vienna, to
provide myself with Berghaus’s great map of Arabia and the Valley of
the Nile, which, with a stray volume of Russegger, were my only
guides. In Khartoum, afterwards, I stumbled upon a copy of
Hoskins’s Ethiopia. The greater part of my funds I changed into
Egyptian silver medjids, colonnati, or Spanish pillar-dollars, and the
Austrian dollar of Maria Theresa, all of which are current as far as
Sennaar and Abyssinia. I also procured five hundred piastres in
copper pieces of five paràs (about half a cent) each, which were
contained in a large palm-basket, and made nearly an ass’s load. In
addition to these supplies, I obtained from an Armenian merchant a
letter of credit on his brother in Khartoum, for two thousand piastres,
on which, he gave me to understand. I should be obliged to pay a
discount of twenty per cent. I endeavored, but in vain, to procure
some information relative to the cost of travelling in Nubia and the
countries beyond. The Frank merchants knew nothing, except that
the expenses were vast, and predicted that the sum I took would
prove insufficient and that I should certainly become involved in
great difficulties and embarrassments. The native merchants who
had made the journey were all jealous of a foreign traveller
attempting to penetrate into their peculiar domain, and gave me no
satisfactory information, while to the imagination of the Cairenes,
Sennaar is the utmost verge of the world, and he who has been
there and returned in safety, enjoys the special protection of Allah.
Even Achmet, although he showed no signs of fear, and did not
hesitate to accompany me, informed his family and friends that we
were going no further than Wadi Halfa, for he said they would
certainly detain him by force, should they learn the truth.
I did not think it necessary to obtain a firman from Abbas Pasha,
which might readily have been procured. The American, English and
Austrian Consuls kindly gave me letters to the principal Consular
agents and merchants in Khartoum, besides which, Achmet
professed to have some acquaintance with Lattif Pasha, who was
then Pasha of Soudân. To the Hon. Mr. Murray, the English Consul-
General, and Mr. Constantine Kahil, the American Vice-Consul at
Cairo, I was especially indebted for favors. The former intrusted me
with despatches for Khartoum and Obeid, in Kordofan, and the latter
furnished me with letters to the Governors of Thebes, Assouan and
Korosko, asking the latter to insure my safety on the journey through
the Nubian Desert. Thus prepared, I anticipated no further trouble on
the road than from hard-trotting camels, sand, brackish water, and
the like privations, which are easily borne.
The furnishing of a Nile-boat requires considerable knowledge of
housekeeping. The number of small articles required for this floating
speck of civilization in a country of barbarians, is amazing to a
bachelor. I had no idea that the art of cooking needed such a variety
of tools and appliances, and for the first time in my life, conceived
some respect for the fame of Ude and Soyer. There are frying-pans
and stew-pans; coffee-pots and tea-pots; knives, forks, spoons,
towels, cups, ladles and boxes; butter, lard, flour, rice, macaroni, oil,
vinegar, mustard and pepper; and no end to the groceries. We must
have a table and chairs, quilts and pillows, mats, carpets and
napkins, and many other articles which I should never have thought
of without the help of Achmet and of M. Pini, who keeps a general
dépôt of supplies. His printed lists, in four languages, lighten the
traveller’s labor very greatly. His experience in regard to the quantity
required, is also of much service; otherwise an inexperienced person
would not know whether to take twelve or fifty pounds of rice, nor
how much sugar belonged to so much coffee. The expense of our
outfit, including bread, fowls, mutton, charcoal, and every other
requisite, was about two thousand piastres—a little more than one
hundred dollars. The calculation was made for one month’s
provisions for two persons.
For my further journey after leaving the Nile, I was recommended
to take a large supply, on account of the scarcity and expense of
many articles in Upper Nubia and Sennaar. I therefore purchased
sufficient tea, coffee, flour, rice, biscuits, sugar, macaroni and dried
fruit to last me two months, beside a complete canteen, or supply of
articles necessary for life in the desert. I took an extra quantity of
gunpowder, tobacco and coffee, for presents to the Arab shekhs.
The entire cost of this outfit was about nine hundred piastres. In
addition, I procured a good Turkish tent for two hundred and fifty
piastres, to which I added a supply of tent-pins, lantern-poles, water-
skins, and leathern water-flasks, all these articles being procured to
better advantage in Cairo. I did not propose adopting the Egyptian
costume until I had made some progress in the language, and
therefore contented myself with purchasing a bornous of camel’s
hair, a sabre, a broad shawl of Tripoli silk, for the waist, and shoes of
white leather, which are very cool and comfortable. I also followed
the custom of the European residents, in having my hair shorn close
to the head, and wearing a white cotton skull-cap. Over this was
drawn the red tarboosh, or fez, and as a protection against the sun, I
bound a large white shawl around it, which was my first lesson in
turban-making.
Achmet, influenced by a superstition which is not peculiar to the
East, begged me to hasten our preparations, in order that we might
leave Boulak on Monday, which day, he averred, was the luckiest in
the week, and would render our journey prosperous from beginning
to end. Knowing from experience that half the success of the journey
is in the start, and believing that it is better to have superstition with
you than against you, I determined to gratify him. He was as zealous
as I could wish, and we rested not from morning to night, until at last,
from the spirit with which we labored, it seemed almost a matter of
life and death, that the boat should leave on Monday. I had a clause
inserted in our written contract with the captain, that he should forfeit
a day’s rent, in case he was not ready at the appointed hour; but, in
spite of this precaution Achmet, who well knew the indifference of the
Arab nature, was constantly on his track. Two or three times a day
he galloped to Boulak, to hasten the enlistment of the men, the
baking of bread for the voyage, the furbishing of the cabin, and the
overhauling of the sails, oars and rigging. My European friends in
Cairo smiled at our display of activity, saying that such a thing had
never been known, as a boat sailing at the appointed time, and that I
was fatiguing myself to no purpose.
Monday (Nov. 17th) came, and the Egyptian cook, Salame, whom
we had engaged for the Nile voyage, was despatched to the markets
to lay in a supply of fowls, eggs, butter and vegetables. My letters
home—the last I expected to send, for months to come—were
committed to the Post Office, and after an early dinner, we saw our
baggage and stores laden upon carts and started for Boulak, under
Achmet’s guidance. We took leave of the few friends we had made
in Cairo, and followed. The Cleopatra was still lying in the midst of a
crowd of dahabiyehs, but the American flag, hoisted at the peak of
her little mizzenmast, was our “cornet,” proclaiming departure. We
found Achmet unjacketed and unturbaned, stowing away the stores,
with one eye on the raïs, and another (as it seemed to me) on each
of the tardy sailors. There was still charcoal to be bought, and bois
gras for kindling fires, and clubs for the men, to prevent invasions
from the shore, with many more of those wants which are never
remembered until the last moment. The afternoon wore away; the
shadows of the feathery date-trees on the island of Rhoda stretched
long and cool across the Nile; but before the sun had touched the
tops of the Pyramids, we had squeezed out from the shipping of
Boulak, and were slowly working up the Nile before a light wind,
while our boatmen thumped the tarabooka, and sang their wild Arab
songs of departure. The raïs came up to know whether he had not
fulfilled his contract, and Achmet with a cheerful face, turned to me
and said: “Praised be Allah, master! we shall have a lucky journey.”
Achmet.
CHAPTER V.
THE PYRAMIDS AND MEMPHIS.