A RIOT AND A RESCUE.
After that we had little trouble with Archie Ackley, although in many
ways the stubborn nature of the boy was unpleasantly evident. In his
better moods he was an agreeable companion, but neither Joe nor I, the
only two other boys aboard, sought his society more than was necessary.
My uncle and the Captain both declared there was a heap of good in the
lad, and a few such lessons as the one he had received would make a man
of him.
Joe I found a treasure in many ways, and always a faithful friend. Since
that first night when he had come aboard he had nothing to tell of his
past history or experiences; but his nature was quick and observant and
I could see he had picked up somewhere a considerable fund of worldly
knowledge which he could draw upon as occasion offered.
My father, Uncle Naboth, and I were all three delighted with the
_Seagull’s_ sailing performances, though secretly I longed to discover
how she would behave under steam, since her propeller had never been in
use since the day it was given a brief trial test in Chelsea Bay.
Tomlinson, the engineer, assured me we could make from sixteen to
eighteen knots when the engines were working, and the man was naturally
as impatient as I was to test their full powers. Still, we realized that
we must wait, and Captain Steele was so delighted with the superb
sailing qualities of the ship that even I had not the heart to suggest
supplanting his white wings with black smoke from our funnels.
In due time we crossed the stormy Mediterranean and reached in safety
our Syrian port, where we unloaded the rugs and delivered them in good
condition to the consignees. We sailed along the coast, past Port Said,
and finally came to the Bay of Alexandria, where we were to unload
Ackley’s cases of “modern antiques” and get rid of our passenger.
It was a new experience to me to find myself on the historic shores of
Egypt, anchored before the famous city founded by Alexander the Great. I
begged Uncle Naboth to take me ashore; overhearing my request Archie
Ackley invited us all—with an air of great condescension—to dine with
him at the Royal Khedivial Hotel.
My father refused. He was too fond of the _Seagull_ to leave her alone
in a foreign port; but Ned Britton took his place, and the four of
us—Archie, Uncle Naboth, the Mate and I—followed by our faithful blacks,
Nux and Bryonia, disembarked on the quay and walked up the long,
foreign-looking streets to the big hotel.
It was a queer sensation to find ourselves moving amidst a throng of
long-robed turbaned Arabs; fez-topped Turks, with Frenchmen, and
Syrians; gray-bearded, stooping Jews; blind beggars; red-coated English
soldiers, and shrinking, veiled Moslem women.
“What a mess of foreigners,” cried Archie, and Uncle Naboth, with a
laugh, reminded him that we were the foreigners and this curiously mixed
crowd, the natives.
We dined in sumptuous style at the handsome hotel, for Archie proved a
liberal host and feasted us royally. It was late at night when we
retraced our steps toward the quay; but the streets of the city were
still thronged with people, many of whom were sitting at little tables
placed on the sidewalks, where they smoked and drank Turkish coffee and
chatted together in a very babel of tongues.
As we left the heart of Alexandria and drew near to the water-front the
streets became more deserted and the lights were fewer and dimmer. There
were still straggling groups here and there, and suddenly, as we turned
a corner, we observed a commotion just ahead of us and heard a terrified
voice cry out:
“Help—Americans—help!”
Ned Britton gave a bound and was in the thick of the melée at once.
Archie was only a step behind him and I saw his big fists swinging right
and left in fast and furious fashion, while Joe ducked his head and
tossed a tall Arab over his shoulder with marvelous ease. Nux and
Bryonia took a hand, and while none of our party was armed, the free use
of their terrible fists wrought such havoc among the long-gowned Arabs
that the result of the skirmish was not long in doubt. Like a mist they
faded away and escaped into the night, leaving a little man wriggling
and moaning upon the ground as if in deathly agony. I held fast to my
left arm, which had been slashed by a knife and was bleeding profusely,
while I stared around in surprise at our easy victory. Uncle Naboth had
not taken part in the fray, but now appeared seated calmly upon the
prostrate form of the Arab whom Joe had vanquished, and his two hundred
and odd pounds rendered the prisoner fairly secure.
Our blacks raised the little man to his feet, where he ceased squirming
but stood weakly leaning against Nux and trembling like a leaf.
“Are you hurt, sir?” asked Ned.
The stranger shook his head. It was so dark in this spot that we could
not distinguish his features very clearly.
“I—I think not,” he gasped. “But they nearly had me, that time. If you
hadn’t come up as you did, I—I——”
He broke off abruptly and leaned over to peer at the Arab Uncle Naboth
was sitting upon.
“That’s him! That’s Abdul Hashim himself! Kill him—kill him quick, some
one!” he yelled, in a sudden frenzy.
The cry seemed to rouse the Arab to life. Like an eel he twisted, and
Uncle Naboth slid off his back and bumped upon the sidewalk. The next
moment we Americans were alone, for Abdul Hashim had saved his bacon by
vanishing instantly.
“Oh, why—_why_ did you let him go?” wailed the little man, covering his
face with his hands. “He’ll get me again, some day—he’s sure to get me
again!”
“Never mind that,” said Ned, gruffly, for we were all disgusted at this
exhibition of the fellow’s unmanly weakness. “You can thank God you’re
out of his clutches this time.”
“I do, sir—I do, indeed!” was the reply. “But don’t leave me just now, I
beg of you.”
We looked at Uncle Naboth for advice. Bry had slit my sleeve with his
pocketknife and was binding a handkerchief tightly around my wound, for
he was something of a surgeon as well as a cook.
“We’re going aboard our ship,” said my uncle, shortly. “You’re welcome
to come along, my man, an’ stay till mornin’.”
The stranger accepted the invitation with alacrity and we started again
for the quay, which was reached without farther incident. Our boat was
waiting and we were soon rowed where the _Seagull_ was anchored and
climbed aboard.
Under the clear light of the cabin lamp we looked at the person we had
rescued with natural curiosity, to find a slender man, with stooping
shoulders, a red Van Dyke beard, bald head and small eyes covered with
big spectacles. He was about forty years of age, wore European clothes
somewhat threadbare and faded in color, and his general appearance was
one of seedy respectability.
“Gentlemen,” said he, sitting in an easy chair and facing the attentive
group before him, “I am Professor Peter Pericles Van Dorn, of the
University of Milwaukee.”
I had never heard of such a university; but then, Milwaukee is a good
way inland. Neither had any of us before heard the name so unctuously
announced; though we were too polite to say so, and merely nodded.
“It will please me,” continued the Professor, “to be informed of your
station and the business that has brought you to Egypt.”
My uncle laughed and looked at me quizzically, as if inviting me to
satisfy the stranger. Captain Steele scowled, resenting the implied
impertinence. The only others present were Archie and Ned Britton.
I told Van Dorn we were a merchant ship from Boston, and had casually
touched at the port of Alexandria to unload some wares belonging to Mr.
Ackley, who was going to ship his property to Luxor and deliver it to
merchants there.
“What sort of wares?” demanded the stranger.
“Scarabs, funeral figures, and copies of antique jewelry,” replied
Archie, a bit uneasily.
“The curse of the country,” snapped the little man, scornfully. “There
ought to be a law to prevent such rubbish being shipped into
Egypt—except,” pausing to continue with a touch of bitterness, “that
there are too many laws in this beastly country already.”
“The poor tourists must have scarabs to take home with them,” said
Archie, with a grin. “About fifteen thousand travelers come to Egypt
every year, and your Khedive won’t let any genuine scarabs leave Egypt.”
“Don’t call him _my_ Khedive, sir!” cried the little professor. “I
detest—I _hate_ the government here, and everything connected with it.
But you are not interested in that. Gentlemen,” assuming a pompous tone,
“I am glad to meet you. You have arrived in the very nick of time to
save me from assassination, or at least from utter failure in my great
work. I am sure it was an All-wise Providence that directed you to stop
at Alexandria.”
“Disguised as old Ackley’s mud scarabs,” added my uncle, dryly.
“And what are your future plans?” inquired the Professor, eagerly.
“To return to America at once,” I replied.
“No! A thousand times no!” shouted little Van Dorn, banging his fist on
the table, “I charter you from this minute. I engage this ship—at your
own price—to transport me and my treasure to New York!”
“Treasure!” we exclaimed, incredulously.
The Professor glanced around and lowered his voice.
“The greatest treasure, gentlemen, that has ever been discovered in
Egypt. I have found the place where the priests of Karnak and Luxor hid
their vast wealth at the invasion of Cambyses the Persian.”
He paused impressively. My father looked at his watch and Uncle Naboth
yawned. For myself, I should have liked to hear more, but my wound was
paining me and Bry awaited my coming to dress it properly. So I said to
our guest:
“If you please, Professor, we will hear your story in the morning. It is
now late, and we are all longing for our berths. So we will bid you
good-night and wish you pleasant dreams.”
He glared at me indignantly.
“Can you sleep after what I have told you?” he demanded.
“I hope so, sir,” I replied, and turned away to call Joe to show the man
to his room. He made no farther protest, but going away and looking
rather thoughtful.
Bry found that the knife had merely inflicted a flesh wound on my arm,
and promised it would give me little trouble. The bleeding had stopped,
so my black surgeon washed the cut thoroughly, bandaged and plastered it
quite professionally, and sent me to bed to sleep soundly until morning.
Really, I forgot all about the Professor, who looked the part of a
savant much better than he acted it, it seemed to me.