Igritcheff, Kyrgyz bastard of a Russian count, was chief of my Soviet mission in Yemen. Held in high regard by the imam, it flows happy days in Sanaa, but reminds the Soviet regime in Moscow. Sanaa fleeing, pursued by askaris the imam for having confused his own money with the cashier of the mission, Igritcheff joined the party ferocious pirates zaranigs which he is initially victory. Taken prisoner by a Yemeni leader, he escapes and manages to win the Red Sea and in extremis to embark aboard a dhow where two French clandestinely carrying a shipment of arms: a smuggler, Mordhom, true portrait of Henry Monfreid and Philip, rich young man who travels by dilettantism. After a terrible storm wiped, they accost the coasts of Abyssinia. Abandoned by Igritcheff, Philippe must convey a shipment of arms through the terrible Abyssinian desert and fiercely bloodthirsty tribes.
In this novel of pure adventure, partly autobiographical, Kessel admits his fascination with its eastern lands, to the war and violence that are the daily lot. The wild grandeur of countries and landscapes of the Red Sea provides more than one setting. More than the Cavaliers, the novel that made me want to read all febrile Kessel, it said.
