coast by Lieut. Cruttenden in 1848, that his account deserves to be quoted in full:
"From April to early October," (the quotation is from Burton, First Footsteps, 408–10), "the place is deserted. No sooner does the season change than the inland tribes move down toward the coast, and prepare their huts for their expected visitors. Small craft from the ports of Yemen, anxious to have an apportunity of purchasing before vessels from the gulf could arrive, hastened across, followed two or three weeks later by their larger brethren from Muscat, Sur, and Ras el Khyma, and the valuably freighted bagalas from Bahrein, Bassora, and Graen. Lastly, the fat and wealthy Banian traders from Porebandar, Mandavi and Bombay, rolled across in their clumsy kotias, and with a formidable row of empty ghee-jars slung over the quarters of their vessels, elbowed themselves into a permanent position in the front tier of craft in the harbor, and by their superior capital, cunning, and influence soon distanced all competitors.
"During the height of the fair there is a perfect Babel, in confusion as in languages; no chief is acknowledged, and the customs of bygone days are the laws of the place. Disputes between the inland tribes daily arise, and are settled by the spear and dagger, the combatants retiring to the beach at a short distance from the town, in order that they may not disturb the trade. Long strings of camels are arriving and departing day and night, escorted generally by women alone, until at a distance from town; and an occasional group of dusty and travel-worn children marks the arrival of the slave-caravan from the interior.
"Here the Somali or Galla slave merchant meets his correspondent from Bassora, Bagdad or Bandar Abbas; and the savage Gudabirsi, with his head tastefully ornamented with a scarlet sheepskin in lieu of a wig, is seen peacefully bartering his ostrich feathers and gums with the smooth-spoken Banian from Porebandar, who, prudentally living on board his ark, and locking up his puggaree, which would infallibly be knocked off the instant he was seen wearing it, exhibits but a small portion of his wares at a time, under a miserible mat spread on the beach.
"By the end of March the fair is nearly at an end, and craft of all kinds, deeply laden, and sailing generally in parties of three or four, commence their homeward journey. By the first week in April the place is again deserted, and nothing is left to mark the site of a town lately containing 20,000 inhabitants, beyond bones of slaughtered
