THE DESERT RIDE.
THE Arabs, even the Bedouins, are not a merciless race. Beyond taking
away every article of jewellery, three silver watches, a few coins, and
the gun, which they thought the best part of the spoil, the Shararat
robbers inflicted no injury on their captives. The sons of the desert
were puzzled as to what to do with their prize.
The two Hartleys, indeed, could be made something of, for they were
evidently strong, vigorous, and active; but the women, one old and the
other fragile, seemed likely to be of no use at all. They could neither
weave camel's hair nor help to pitch tents; it was doubtful whether
they could even skin a sheep and cook it. Would it not be best to leave
them behind? But to do so would be to abandon them to inevitable death
by hunger and thirst. Though the chief, glancing at Grace Evendale,
remarked that it would be easier to make a mashale (water-skin) out of
muslin than anything useful out of her, he yet resolved to take her
behind him on his camel, and he gave orders to his wild followers to
dispose in the same way of the Feringhees (English), putting the mother
and child together, such being to him the relationship between Miss
Petty and Shelah.
The camels from which the Bedouins had dismounted were at hand, some
kneeling to receive their burdens, some standing and throwing long
shadows over the sand. An Arab, grasping Miss Petty's arm with one hand
and Shelah's shoulder with the other, half dragged them towards his
kneeling beast. In spite of tears and entreaties, the Bedouin forced
the prisoners to mount, he himself taking his seat in front. Theresa
and Shelah's knowledge of camels was small indeed, the only living
specimens of the race which they had ever seen, except at Alexandria,
having been in the Zoological Gardens in London. The horrible noise
made by the huge creature when in the act of being loaded, the way in
which he twisted his long neck to show his wide mouth and formidable
teeth, filled both Miss Petty and Shelah with terror.
"Oh, I can't stop on this horrible beast; he is growling like a tiger!
He will bite me! He will kill me!" expostulated Miss Petty, her
entreaties changed to a scream as the camel suddenly rose and, by the
tremendous jerk with which he did so, almost threw her off his back.
The motion of a camel has been likened to that which would be felt by
one perched on a music-stool unscrewed to its utmost height, and drawn
along in a cart without springs. Miss Petty implored the Arab to stop
the beast, jerking out her words, as the jolting almost deprived her of
power of speech. But she might as well have spoken to the camel itself.
The Bedouin did not understand her words, nor would have cared for them
had he understood. Little Shelah was sobbing, her spirit for a while
subdued by fear and physical distress, for every mile of that terrible
journey made the heat, and thirst, and fatigue, which she endured, more
painful to the poor child.
And what of the other captives? What was the effect upon them of their
sudden and startling adventure?
Harold met the misfortune as a brave man and a Christian should do.
He saw hardship and danger before him, but the one was a thing to be
calmly endured, the other fearlessly faced. He was a crusader, prepared
for perilous service, a knight of the Cross, and it was not for him to
choose his own post; if his Commander appointed that he should serve
and suffer in Arabia instead of India, it was not for him to question
that Leader's wisdom or goodness.
Harold, mounted on a tall camel, and journeying over what seemed to
him to be a pathless desert, was calmly revolving in his mind how it
might be possible to do mission work even amongst Bedouin Arabs, to
whom, under ordinary circumstances, no herald of the Gospel might have
access. True, Harold had not much knowledge of the Arabic language, but
he would have opportunity for acquiring more; an open door was before
him, it was not for a Knight of St. John to shrink from crossing the
threshold, even should martyrdom lie beyond. Harold had been committing
to memory a portion of St. John's First Epistle in Arabic; he had, by
steady toil, reached the fourteenth verse of the second chapter, and
the last clause in that verse was as a special message of encouragement
to him: "I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, and
the Word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one."
Harold Hartley was strong in faith: he had, indeed, fallen back in his
school-boy days; the pride of life had then chilled his missionary
zeal, and he had, in the excitement of an election, even made a
personal attack on a political opponent who had provoked him, and so
had got into serious trouble. But that fall had been a turning-point in
the life of Harold.
During his college career, malice itself could not find a stain on the
character of young Hartley. He had passed through temptations—and had
overcome them; he had been looked upon by the religiously disposed
fellows of his college as a leader in all that was good. Harold's
faith was already as gold tried in the fire; he wore the white cross
unstained.
Robin was a great deal younger than his brother, and, partly from his
youth, partly from the joyous buoyancy of his spirits, the lad did not
take nearly as serious a view of the situation of affairs as was taken
by Harold. Had he not felt some anxiety regarding his widowed friend,
Robin would have been inclined to regard the capture of the party as a
very exciting and amusing adventure. It was something to be talked over
and laughed over in future days; for Robin, full of hope as well as of
daring, felt no doubt that the strange captivity, which had overtaken
him and his companions, would be of but brief duration. Robin did not
calculate, he simply hoped; for Robin was naturally full of hope as
well as of daring.
What was misery to Theresa Petty was, at first, little more than
a frolic to Robin Hartley. The jolting, which had the effect of
making her scream, had but the effect of making him laugh. This was
Robin's first camel ride, but he hoped to have many others. "I am
practising for itinerating in India amongst the villages with my
father and brother," thought Robin to himself. He shouted out words of
encouragement to the weeping Lammikin, who was in front at no great
distance, and bade Miss Petty keep a good heart.
Grace Evendale's position was different from that of the rest of the
party; she had less physical strength than the others, and the heat
of the sun, constantly increasing as the day advanced, was deadly to
the delicate lady; she was withering even as a flower withers under
the fiery beams. The rough motion of the camel also greatly tried Mrs.
Evendale's sensitive frame, and caused her acute suffering. Yet the
meek Christian was not really unhappy, though she felt that the end of
the painful journey would probably be the grave.
Mrs. Evendale thought, "Is this like the angel's smiting of Peter,
to make him rise and gird himself, and go forth to freedom? Is the
messenger at hand who calls to the banquet of heaven? If so—he is
welcome, in whatever guise he come. The Lord has borne me through
greater trials than I ever can go through again, and His love will
surely support me through this."
Grace thought as calmly of the possibility of perishing by heat and
thirst as she would have submitted to some painful operation which was
to give her future ease. All her best treasures were in heaven already;
it would be no affliction to rejoin them. Mrs. Evendale's experience
was that which a poet has expressed in the exquisite lines—
"Peace, perfect peace,—with sorrow surging round,
On Jesu's bosom only calm is found.
"Peace, perfect peace; the future all unknown,
Jesus we know, and He is on the throne."
The storm may rage around, but how calmly and safely the true believer
rests under the extended wing, the downy feathers of love!
On, on, proceeded the party at the tedious pace of about four miles an
hour. They were crossing an utterly desolate waste, where, except a
few withered-looking lizards, and once, at some distance, a jerboa, no
animal life was to be seen. There was hardly any trace of vegetation.
The shadows of the camels grew shorter and shorter, till they seemed to
disappear altogether under an almost vertical sun. The mouths of all
the travellers were parched with thirst; Miss Petty could only moan
out, "Water! Water!" And even that cry was unheeded. Robin had ceased
to have the slightest inclination to jest; the sufferings of all were
only too real, for the water-skins hung loose and empty by the side of
each camel.
After a weary time the huge animals broke into a rough trot, as if they
scented water. The Arabs roused up from what appeared to be sleep or
stupor.
"I see some trees!" cried Robin. "Low, stunted ones, hardly worthy of
the name!"
These, on nearer approach, were seen to be a species of euphorbia,
near which some colocynth herbs and a little almost dried-up grass
showed that something like a spring must be near. The thirsty camels
now increased their speed over what was now a stony and blackish plain.
Water had been reached at last.
The Bedouins dismounted from their clumsy beasts, and the Hartley
brothers sprang down also, and helped the almost fainting women and
Shelah to descend from the backs of the camels. The huge animals were
turned lose to graze; there was no danger of their wandering from the
wretched oasis where they might glean the scantiest of meals from
thorny bushes.
From shallow wells, half choked up with stones, the Bedouins commenced
replenishing their mashales, after first satisfying their thirst, but
the supply was scanty, and the water brackish. Eagerly, before even
wetting his own lips, Robin carried some of the water to Mrs. Evendale,
who was lying on the ground exhausted. Her parched lips opened to
receive the life-giving fluid, and a faint "Thank God!" followed the
scanty draught.
There was a halt at this place for some hours. Almost every one slept,
but Grace Evendale was unable to do so, she was too feverish and ill.
Her refreshment was silent prayer, and the heart's unvoiced hymn, which
could be heard only by God. Then came the shivering chill of fever.
The lady felt like a dying woman when the Bedouins, rising from their
siesta, prepared themselves for a start.
The water-skins had been partially, very partially replenished. A few
dried dates were brought out, and partaken of by all but the suffering
widow. The groaning camels were then made to kneel, and were remounted.
The terrible journey must not be delayed, for many and many a weary
mile of desert had to be traversed before the weary party could meet
with another well.