I crawled under myself, crawled all over the beastly place. He
certainly was not there.
"I never saw 'im go, sir!" Dobson whispered apologetically.
However, he was gone; there could be no doubt about that. He was
certain to have crept for'ard among his men, and it was as certain that
mischief would be brewing.
"We'll turn 'em out and see what it is," I said, pulling my revolver
from its holster and opening the breech to see that it was loaded.
We went for'ard again, and as we bent down under the sail, our revolvers
in our hands, there was a rush of bare feet and the whole crowd of them
leapt at us. Three or four were clinging to me, throttling me round the
neck, clutching my arms to my sides, and pulling my legs from under me.
In spite of all my struggles I was thrown to the deck on my face;
someone bent back my wrist to wrench the revolver away, but before it
was dragged out of my hand I managed to get my finger on the trigger and
pulled it. As my head whirled with the choking of those iron fingers
round my throat I did not know whether I had actually fired it or not.
I was banged on the deck, twisted round and round under a heap of
grunting Arabs; something was forced into my mouth; I nearly lost
consciousness, but when the grasp on my throat was relaxed I managed to
draw a breath of air and found myself next to Dobson, both of us lashed
up like mummies, lying on our backs on some coils of rope.
We were both gagged, unable to speak, much less able to shout and wake
Jaffa and Wiggins--lying perfectly helpless.
Two Arabs were squatting on their haunches on either side of us. Like a
fool I tried to struggle, and the one near me bent down and drew
something across my forehead--a knife; I felt its edge jag along the
bone and the blood running down the side of my temples and matting on my
eyebrows.
I lay still, terrified lest the next time I moved that knife would be
across my throat. I really was horror-struck.
I saw the remainder of those brutes stealing aft noiselessly, under the
sail into the moonlight, and had an awful fear that in our struggles we
had made so little noise that Wiggins and Jaffa would not have waked,
and that they, too, would be caught unawares. I did not know whether my
revolver had fired or not. I tried to imagine that it had, but
everything was too horribly blurred for me to be sure.
Then my heart gave a great bound of relief, for, as the last of those
Arabs had stooped down and shown himself in the moonlight, I saw a flash
and heard Jaffa's Mauser pistol--and a louder one, Wiggins firing too.
Shots banged out close to us, from the foot of the sail. An Arab gave a
yell of pain, and the others came stampeding into the shadow again.
Thank Heaven! They had not caught them asleep.
Two of the Arabs--two with revolvers, mine and Dobson's I
imagined--knelt down by us and hunted for more ammunition, pressing the
muzzles against our foreheads to keep us quiet. The muzzle slipped into
that gash; how it did pain! I had no more cartridges--none, thank God!
Dobson had an unopened packet of twelve rounds, and we saw them
carefully dividing these between each other. A cartridge dropped
between us, and they hunted for it among the coils of rope, pulling us
away roughly. An Arab pounced on it with a hiss of delight. I saw the
Arab with a revolver take it and place it in his chamber, so I knew that
they only had twelve rounds between them. Then these two armed men
crept along, one on each side, to the edge of the shadow of the sail,
stooping down to see under it, whilst the others, with knives in their
hands, lay flat down on the deck between them.
I was half-dazed and mad with mortification and rage. I would have
given my life to have known what Jaffa and Wiggins were doing at the
other end of the dhow. There was a dark shadow under the poop platform,
I knew, and trusted with all my heart that they had retreated there.
But not a sound came from aft; they might both have been hit for all I
knew. And not a sound did the Arabs make either. The only noise was the
creaking of the yard against the mast and its huge sleeve of rope. The
sail drooped down absolutely motionless, blotting out the moon.
How long this silence lasted I have not the least idea. It seemed ages.
"They have only twelve cartridges," was the only thing I could think of,
and waited to count the shots, holding my breath for fear the thudding
of my heart would prevent my hearing them.
The dark figures of those Arabs suddenly seemed to stiffen, and then,
from either gunwale, where the shadows were darkest, the revolvers
flashed and banged, twice on my right, three times on my left.
"Seven cartridges now, only seven," I thought joyfully, and each flash
had been answered by more flashes from aft, and bullets ripped along the
deck close to where Dobson and I lay.
An Arab gave a low sob, and I heard a revolver clatter to the deck on my
left. A dark arm stretched out to pick it up, where it lay in the
moonlight, and as the dark hand seized it and hurriedly drew back into
the shadow a bullet splintered the deck where it had been.
A long period of silence followed. Except for an occasional groan from
one of the Arabs, and the creaking of the yard above us, no sound came
to relieve the extreme tension of my ears.
Seven more they had. How many had Jaffa and Wiggins? That was all I
could think about. Wiggins would probably have very few, but Jaffa--I
knew nothing about him. My ears were throbbing with the strain of
listening to count pistol shots which never came. Then they crept aft
again. I thought they were going to kill us. They dragged us aft until
we lay among them, just in the edge of the shadow of the sail, and one
of them began calling out. Though there was no reply from aft, I knew
well enough that they were telling Jaffa that he would probably hit us
if he fired any more.
So long as these Arabs did not recapture the dhow, I did not care in the
least whether I was hit or not.
The answer came with a single pistol shot from aft. As it flashed, both
the Arab revolvers went off. Probably they were waiting for this, and
fired at the flash. I was too dazed to count the number of shots. Was
it two or three? Had they five or four cartridges still? My brain was
whirling and numb. I could not be sure.
They were probably as bad shots as ourselves, and appeared to be getting
nervous.
There was a hurried consultation among them; they drew back farther into
the shadow, and all of a sudden began stripping off their loose cloaks,
five of them, two with revolvers, the others with knives, and I could
make out the figure and beard of the nakhoda as he gesticulated and
encouraged them.
I knew that they were standing by to make a rush aft, when suddenly they
gave a hoarse cry and stiffened where they stood, pointing over the sea.
They stood like dark statues for a moment, and then the whole darkness
disappeared. They stood out in the glare of a searchlight, naked to the
waist, their eyes glittering, their lips drawn back in fear, showing
their white teeth, and their shadows thrown against the now lighted
sail.
In another moment the searchlight--for it was a searchlight--had passed
and it was dark again. Jaffa and Wiggins fired half a dozen rounds very
rapidly; the bullets did not come for'ard, so probably they were firing
in the air; they yelled, too, and back the searchlight swept and
remained, whilst a small shell, bursting with a roar close to the bows,
threw up a column of fire and water. In a second those Arabs had
dropped on their knees, crouching below the gunwales and hiding from the
glare of the light--all except the nakhoda, who, yelling something like
"Allah", rushed at me with a long knife.
He would have stuck it into me had not the others thrown themselves on
him and pulled him to the deck.
As they did so Jaffa and Wiggins, shouting and cursing, rushed forward.
In a minute I was free, Dobson was free. Wiggins had cut the ropes,
whilst Jaffa stood guard over the Arabs, and as I staggered to the deck,
bleeding like a pig again, a boat rasped alongside, and Popple Opstein's
great red face appeared as he climbed over the gunwale, followed by half
a dozen men.
"Four more! They've got four more--or is it three?" was all I could
think of to say as he came for'ard. I had to sit down to prevent my
legs giving way.
"Thank God you came along in time!" I said, as he shook some sense into
me and gave me something to drink.
I was all right again in a few minutes, and whilst the Arabs were being
securely tied up, to prevent any unpleasant mistakes, I was able to tell
him what had happened.
"What about your edge of civilization, Martin, old chap?" he laughed.
"You nearly toppled over the edge of it that time, eh? We spotted you
in the moonlight, and saw the revolver flashes, so knew something was
wrong. We never thought it was you."
"Man, she's full of rifles. I'm dead certain she is," I burst out, "and
I haven't been out here ten days! Isn't it splendid?"
"You don't look very splendid," my chum smiled grimly. "The sooner you
get on board to our doctor the better."
I really felt almost intoxicated. I could not stop talking. "Look at
that one-eyed interpreter of mine," I babbled, turning to Jaffa, who was
leaning up against the gunwale cleaning his Mauser pistol. "Look at
him! He saved the whole show. He's simply grand with that pistol of
his. Aren't you, Jaffa?"
He smiled his inscrutable, dignified smile.
"You saved all our lives. We should not have pulled through without
you," I went on, and for the life of me I do not know whether he looked
pleased or not.
The _Intrepid's_ men were going round collecting the knives which the
Arabs had dropped on deck. Dobson and I found our revolvers.
For the life of me I could not keep silent.
"How many cartridges are there in yours?" I asked him, opening my
breech. "There are only two in mine."
"Not a blessed one, sir!" he grinned; so, after all, I had miscounted.
"How many have you?" I asked Wiggins.
"Not a blessed one either, sir! I did have two, but fired 'em when we
sighted the _Intrepid_--that 'ere Pershun told me to!"
Commander Duckworth of the _Intrepid_ now came on board the dhow, and I
had to tell him the yarn all over again. In spite of feeling absolutely
"played out", I talked as if I should never stop, telling him detail
after detail, imploring him to go right away and hunt for the _Bunder
Abbas_. I rather fancy I suggested that he should leave us in the dhow
to sail into Jask.
However, I found myself, Dobson, Wiggins, and Jaffa climbing down into
his boat and being pulled across to the _Intrepid_. I know that I
talked to them all the time, and to Nicholson, the staff surgeon of the
_Intrepid_, whilst he was probing and stitching those wounds of mine.
When he had finished these he stuck the needle of a syringe into my arm.
"That'll send you to sleep all right," he said, looking at me curiously.
When I went aft he was commencing work on three wounded Arabs who had
been brought over. The rest of them were in the battery surrounded by
inquisitive bluejackets. The old nakhoda squatted on deck by himself,
covered up in his burnous, with only his eyes showing. He did not even
deign to look at me. The _Intrepid_ was already steaming ahead, her
boats hoisted, and the dhow ("My dhow, old chap," I said, slapping old
Popple Opstein on the back) was safely towing astern; I could see her
mast.
"Rifles, my dear chap! She's simply chock-full of them!" I laughed.
I was famished--starvingly hungry--and they got food for me down in the
ward-room, although Nicholson tried to make me lie down. The ward-room
chaps, in their pyjamas, sat round me as I talked to them. I could not
leave off talking, and I found that I didn't like anything they had on
the table, so could not eat.
Nicholson took hold of my wrist and shoved another beastly syringe
needle into my arm. He made the fellows go away too, although I had not
told them nearly all that had happened, and in a little while I did let
Nicholson take me to a cabin--just to humour him. That is the last I
remember--I certainly don't remember undressing--but I woke in broad
daylight to find myself in pyjamas belonging to somebody else, feeling
rather shaky, my head covered in bandages, and Nicholson standing over
me with a satisfied smile on his fat face.
My aunt! how hungry I was!
"Food, Nicholson, that's what I want," I said. "I haven't had anything
worth speaking about for twenty-four hours."
He felt my pulse, smiled, and went away. I called him back. "How about
the _Bunder Abbas_? Have you found her yet?"
"She's been alongside us for the last forty hours or more," he said.
"We are anchored off Sheikh Hill. She's all right."