When our mid of the maintop was hurried ashore from the dhow in the
Joo-joo river, he had no idea that a man-of-war was in the offing,
and that one of her boats was about to board the slaver.
The sounds of the conflict were heard somewhat indistinctly in the
cave in which the three Arabs and the middy had taken refuge, but
Jack felt with a sudden exaltation of spirits that it was probable
that a British boat had arrived upon the scene, and that his
immediate release might be reasonably expected.
Sadly were his hopes dashed to the ground when, with his arms bound
behind him, he was hurried out of the cave and up the cliffs by his
guards. One glance at the dhow beneath him showed our hero that
there were British bluejackets on board, although in the confusion of
the moment he did not recognise Thring or any of the cutter's crew.
One wild cry burst from the unhappy boy's lips. The next moment he
was struck to the ground by his relentless captors, gagged with a
piece of cotton cloth, and then forcibly borne away up-country in a
state of semi-consciousness, from which he did not fully recover till
he found himself cast--released from his gag, but bound and
helpless--into a small beehive hut in Sooltan Shah's stockaded
village.
A whirl of conflicting thoughts passed through the poor boy's mind,
and for the first time since his rescue from the waves did it occur
to him that his captors might take it into their heads to end his
existence and their own responsibility at the same time.
[Illustration: _Some armed natives entered the hut._]
The possibility of this ending to his adventure struck a chill to the
midshipman's brave young heart, but his family motto happened to be
"_Nil desperandum_," and he had never yet, in his short career,
failed to act up to it. Indeed, a braver or more resourceful boy
than Jack Villiers it would be difficult to find, even in that
nursery of heroes, Her Majesty's Royal Navy.
Therefore the middy soon plucked up his spirits and began to turn
over some problems in his mind--problems of escape from durance vile.
"I'd give anything to know," muttered Jack to himself, "whether those
bluejackets on board the dhow recognised me as an Englishman or not.
In this rig they might easily have taken me for an Oriental, for some
of these Arabs are as fair as a European. I wonder what cruiser they
belonged to? Could they have been some of my own shipmates? What
luck if they were! Even then, however, the skipper might think it
too risky to send an expedition up-country. He would probably try
and treat with the beggars instead, and meanwhile I may have a knife
stuck into me."
The middy was almost in complete darkness, for there was no window to
the hut, and when his guards had thrown him down upon the earthen
floor they had gone outside to mount guard, shutting the palm-leaf
door behind them and carefully securing it. A few straggling rays of
light came in through chinks here and there, but they could not
disperse the depressing gloom of the interior.
Jack's head ached: the effects of the blow the Arabs had dealt him,
coupled with the long march under the almost intolerable rays of a
vertical sun; and for a time his thoughts did not take a very
definite shape.
About an hour after his arrival in the village, some armed natives,
in no way resembling the Arabs, entered the hut, bearing a small
bunch of bananas and an earthenware pitcher containing goats' milk.
These they placed on the floor beside the prisoner, removed the
lashing from his arms, and then without a word glided outside and
resumed their vigilant watch and ward.
"I'm glad they haven't forgotten the grub," said Jack to himself;
"for when one is down in the mouth one wants to be figged up a bit."
After munching a few bananas and taking a good long pull at the
pitcher our hero felt more himself, and was thankful to get his arms
free for a short time, for the numerous turns of rope had made them
very stiff and uncomfortable.
The guards re-entered, replaced the lashing with almost brutal force,
and then withdrew again.
"No, I've not forgotten the dodge those fellows at Guildford Fair
taught me," muttered Jack, who had been lost in profound thought for
some minutes, "and I really believe I could get my arms free if I
wanted to. Then if I only had a knife or some sort of tool it might
be possible to hack one's way through these flimsy walls, which are
only made of dried palm-leaves or something of that sort."
The day wore on, and at length night fell--a still, balmy night, with
a sky scintillating with a million flashing stars.
[Illustration: (Jack with scallop shell)]
A scanty supper of boiled rice and salt fish was served to the
prisoner, and then the guards left him stretched upon the ground for
the night, securely bound--or so they thought, having never had the
opportunity of attending Guildford Fair and being initiated into its
mysteries!
The exhibits at the Surrey county-town usually included a "strongman"
who could shake himself free from any entanglement of rope, however
cunningly knotted around him. In exchange for a sovereign, and a
promise never to reveal the secret to anyone else, our hero had been
shown the trick. There was no fraud or jugglery about the matter.
When you know the way it is as simple as ABC, but then every
schoolboy has not a sovereign to spare for this sort of thing, has he?
No sooner did Jack find himself left alone for the night than he
proceeded without loss of time to put his plan of escape into
execution.
I am not going to tell you how the rope lashings were cast off, for
the simple reason that I do not know, for Jack is a boy of honour,
and I have never been able to get him to divulge the secret, _even to
me_--his own father.
Suffice it to say, however, that in ten minutes' time our hero had
succeeded in getting his arms free; and his first act was to
stealthily grope about in every corner of the dark hut in the hope of
finding some object that might be of use to him in the endeavour to
bore through the leafy walls of his prison-house.
[Illustration: (Jack Villiers waving turban)]
The only thing the middy found, however, was a shell shaped like a
scallop. There was absolutely nothing else lying about.
"This won't do," said Jack to himself; "one can't cut with this blunt
thing, and even if one could, the noise would be sure to arouse those
beggars of sentries outside. I didn't think of that before."
Our hero felt bitterly disappointed. Then a sudden thought flashed
through his mind, and he crept to the back of the hut and began
softly but quickly digging a hole in the earthen floor, close up to
the wall, with his newly-found treasure, the shell. The soil proved
light and sandy, and with such ceaseless energy did the prisoner work
that in an hour's time he had excavated a hole sufficiently large to
allow of his body passing through.
The next moment Jack was lying flat on the ground _outside_ the hut,
listening intently. He could hear the sentries jabbering near the
doorway, but apparently he was free to steal away from the back
without being perceived, unless there happened to be any of the
inhabitants of the village abroad.
[Illustration: (Natives)]
Congratulating himself on his good fortune, our hero moved stealthily
forward and gained a small grove of guava-trees, where for a few
moments he paused. Then, making a sudden resolve, he ran swiftly
away and disappeared over the brow of a hill in the direction of the
river.
Not ten minutes after this the guards entered the hut and instantly
saw that their prey had escaped. Fearful of the fate that awaited
them when Sooltan Shah learnt the news of the flight of the captive,
the warriors, six in number, hurriedly set off in pursuit of the
fugitive, having agreed among themselves that no alarm should be
given unless the chase proved a futile one.
* * * * *
In spite of the complete victory they had achieved, ending in the
death of Sooltan and the surrender of his warriors, the seamen and
marines returned to the mouth of the Joo-joo river with heavy hearts.
The corpse of Jack Villiers had not been discovered, in spite of the
most strenuous search, but every member of the force believed him to
have been most foully murdered. More especially was young Thring
downcast and broken-spirited, for the bonds of friendship had been
very strong between the two boys.
There was one subject for congratulation, and that was that the
gunnery lieutenant, who had been struck down by the African chief's
bullet, was likely to recover from the wound in the thigh which he
had received.
The "Forte's" boats had been left at anchor in the river under
command of the boatswain, with orders to await events. When the
naval brigade hove in sight, the flotilla moved in to facilitate the
operation of embarking the men, many of whom were more or less badly
wounded.
[Illustration: (Jack with canoe)]
Is it possible to understand young Thring's astonishment and joy
when, to his utter amazement, he saw, standing beside the boatswain
in the stern-sheets of the launch, and energetically waving a turban
over his head, his dearly-loved chum and messmate, Jack Villiers?
What a resounding cheer went up from the whole throng of seamen and
marines, who, breaking loose from all the bonds of discipline, rushed
down to the river's brink, frantically throwing their caps up in the
air, and generally behaving like a lot of schoolboys to whom an extra
week's holidays had just been granted!
In another moment Thring was wringing his friend's hand as if he was
particularly anxious to dislocate the fingers, and both boys began to
chatter like excited magpies.
"Yes, yes, and after you got clear of the village, and you found you
were being hunted down by the sentries, what happened then?" demanded
Thring, with breathless interest.
"Well, I knew jolly well I hadn't a chance with the beggars at
running," said the mid of the maintop modestly, "and so after a bit,
when I found they were catching me up hand-over-fist, and I was jolly
well losing my wind, I just swarmed up a dense tree that overhung the
banks of the river, and stowed myself away amongst the thickest
branches--just like Charles II. in the Boscobel oak! I'm certain the
beggars knew I was up a tree, but, owing to the darkness and the
thickness of this patch of jungle, they never found me. For a long
time after daylight I could hear the shouts and cries of natives, and
did not dare to descend. Then a long silence ensued, but I still lay
low, thinking it might be a trap set for me; but I believe now that
the news of your advance upon their village had reached them,
compelling them to go back and assist in its defence. After waiting
a long time, I concluded that the coast was clear, and went down the
tree like a shot. Following the river, I discovered by great good
luck a canoe made fast amongst some thick reeds. There were paddles
on board, and I hopped in like a house on fire and sculled down the
river as if all the hippopotami and alligators in Africa were after
me! I needn't spin you the rest of the yarn, for here I am safe and
sound and as fit as a fiddle!"
"But how about them there bloodstains on the floor of the hut you
were imprisoned in, sir?" queried a sceptical old quartermaster
standing by; "and I didn't see no hole dug under the wall abaft, not
so much as a bread-room rat could creep through."
Thring explained briefly to his chum what had been seen during the
occupation of the village. Jack laughed heartily.
"It's evident that native prisoner was laughing in his sleeve at
you," he said, "and took you to a house where they had been killing
some fowls. You always _were_ rather green, Thring, old chap,
weren't you? I say, what an adventure this'll be to tell the mater,
won't it?"