Mr. Fisher had asked me to go up to the telegraph-station early next
morning, and so I did, landing in time to have some "chota-hazri" with
him in the veranda. The old head-boy, wearing his best yellow turban,
came forward for my helmet, and smiled a greeting.
"Have some coffee; there are some bananas too--yesterday's steamer
brought them," Mr. Fisher said.
I asked him how Miss Borsen was, but he did not know. His wife had been
with her all night, and he had not seen her.
He tried to talk of many things, but with manifest effort. At last he
blurted out: "The truth is, affairs are in a very unpleasant position.
It's impossible to disguise the fact any longer. Our coolies, and even
some of the house boys, are leaving us. They all say the same thing:
don't want to go, but they have wives and children, and they don't want
to be killed. They are going to their village, and presently, they say,
they will come back. 'Presently' means," he said bitterly, "if the
tribesmen don't kill us all. There is no doubt in my mind that they
intend to attack this place. Almost daily I get warnings from the Mir
of Old Jask, who's a feeble, well-meaning old chap, with all he can do
to look after his own town, and quite unable to spare us any of his
soldiers. Not that they would be of any help. I've tried them, so know.
"You see," he continued, "I have no absolute proof of any rising more
formidable than what has just occurred. No one knows what is going on
behind those beastly mountains. I've sent plenty of warnings both to
Karachi and to Muscat (I knew that), even to Teheran; but the answer is
always the same: Sit tight, and if anything definite happens, let us
know.
"Well, you are here, that's something; and I don't mind telling you that
the presence of your little launch makes all the difference in the
world. Up there, right away beyond those hateful hills (he had risen
and was pointing away towards the gaunt Baluchistan ranges), in every
village for a hundred miles or more, it is known you are anchored here;
and the head-men at this very moment probably are deliberating whether
they had better not keep quiet till you steam away."
"I'm hanged if I'm going!" I said, rising too. "If I'm ordered away I'll
break down my engine and take a month to repair it."
He smiled. "I want you to come round our little defences with me and
make suggestions. We have nineteen Eurasians here who can be trusted
with rifles. If the worst came to the worst we might hold out for a
week until help came; but I wish with all my heart that those two women
were not here. It's getting on my nerves. I find myself peering through
the big telescope up there hour after hour, searching the desert. I
can't tear myself away from it, and at night I can't sleep. This place
at the best of times is one of the worst holes in the world, and after
being stuck here for two solid years my mind is so enfeebled that it is
almost impossible to concentrate my thoughts.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you!" he continued; "I sent a telegram to
Duckworth last night informing him of yesterday's proceedings."
I had forgotten all about doing this, so, before any reply could be
received, I wired again that I considered it advisable to remain at Jask
on account of the disturbed condition of the surrounding district.
Commander Duckworth might laugh at my self-assurance for imagining that
the little "_B.A._" could be of much use, but I did not think that he
would--nor did I care, so long as he did not order me away. My whole
aim in life now seemed centred round the forlorn little lady with the
sad grey eyes; and even if she would not make friends with me again, I
hoped to be able to protect her. I knew perfectly well that this was
the impelling force which decided me to remain there.
The telegram having been sent, Mr. Fisher took me round the whole
position.
As you know, the telegraph buildings were built on the rocky end of the
peninsula and surrounded by a strong, loopholed wall. He explained to
me that there was no probability of an attack either from the sides or
from the end, because the Baluchis and Afghans hated the sea, and
nothing would induce them to get into a boat.
If they came, they must attack along the neck of the peninsula, and up
the open, sloping space below the wall. Across this, as you already
know, there was a small breastwork of earth, with a still smaller trench
behind it, looking much more like an elongated vegetable-marrow bed than
a defence work and, fifty yards lower down, two rows of barbed-wire
railings stretching across from sea to sea.
Five hundred yards away, on the narrowest portion of the peninsula, and
commanding the landing place to the east--on our right as we looked
inland--was the ruined sheikh's fort, or Old Fort, which I had explored
on my first visit. It was half-hidden in a fold of the ground and by
some date-palm trees. A thousand yards away on the western side--our
left-hand side--commanding the beach and landing place there, was the
new sheikh's fort, or New Fort, where the custom-house officers had been
hanged by the Baluchis on their way back from destroying Bungi and
Sudab. Between these were perhaps a score of native "matting" huts.
The whole of the sloping neck of the peninsula afforded no cover
whatever; but on the right side of the slope, just between the line of
barbed-wire and the baby entrenchment was a line of more substantial
huts belonging to the coolies and other servants of the telegraph staff.
I don't pretend to be a soldier; but it struck me immediately that this
line of huts must be destroyed. It interfered with the fire space from
the loopholed wall. Also I told Mr. Fisher that the half-ruined
sheikh's house--the Old Fort--must be pulled down, as it would give
grand cover for an attacking force.