Now the Ka'aba was close; now the nacelle slowed, beside it, in the
shadow of its grim blackness. The major got an impression of exceeding
richness from the shrouding veil, which he saw to be a huge silken
fabric, each side like a vast theater curtain of black, with a
two-foot band a little more than half-way up, the whole covered with
verses from the Koran worked in gold.
The nacelle sank gently on to a heap of motionless pilgrims, canted to
the left, and came to rest. Not a groan, curse, or even a sigh escaped
the desecrated Moslems forever defiled by the touch of the infidels'
accursed machine.
The effect was horribly uncanny--of all those brown men, open-eyed and
conscious, but perfectly unable to move so much as an eyebrow. Such as
had fallen with their eyes in the direction of the nacelle, could
see what was going on; the others could only judge of this incredible
desecration by what they could hear. The sound of foreign voices,
speaking an unbelievers' tongue in the very shadow of the Ka'aba, must
have been supremely horrible to every Mohammedan there.
"Out, men, and at it!" the major commanded, as he scrambled from the
nacelle, slid and stumbled over the Moslems, and reached hands for the
tools passed out to him.
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