"Bismillah!" ejaculated the young Moor when he stood in the car.
"Just saved your bacon, if that's what you mean," said Timothy. "And a
nice sloppy mess you're making! I s'pose _I_'ll have to clean up."
Timothy scowled and growled, but that was only his way. Tom knew well
enough that Timothy would clean up with great cheerfulness.
"We'll get back to the yacht," he said, "and find some dry things for
him there."
The airship was now so well under control that Tom had no difficulty in
letting her down safely on deck, though the yacht was at anchor.
"Uncommonly well done!" exclaimed Mr. Greatorex as Tom stepped out of
the car.
"Yes; I thought she came down pretty neatly," said Tom.
"Didn't mean _that_, you egoist. I meant you saved this young fellow
uncommonly well; saw it _all_ through my binocular. Dangerous things,
sharks. Who _is_ the boy?"
"I haven't asked him yet. I thought we might give him a dry change and
then see if we can make out anything. He probably can't speak English."
"Very well. Bodgers, find some toggery and take him into the cabin.
Who's the _other_ fellow?"
"We shall find out presently. Shall we go into the cabin? I'd like to
put a few questions before the other man comes aboard."
They found that Captain Bodgers had rigged up the boy in a sailor's suit
much too large for him.
"Capital!" cried Mr. Greatorex. "_Much_ more respectable! Can you speak
English, boy?"
"Me speak English little bit, and Spanish little bit," replied the boy
with a frank smile.
"That's capital! Not the _Spanish_, you know; but the English."
"I tank very much for the gentleman's goodness----"
"Yes, yes, _that's_ all right. But come now, how did you get into that
pretty pickle?"
The boy looked puzzled.
"Tell us how the ship came to be wrecked," said Tom, translating.
"Aiyeh! She caught in fog last night, struck rock. Quick it was all
over; no one live, only me and Salathiel ben Ezra."
"That is your friend's name, is it? A Jew?"
"Yes, excellency, a Jew. A dog of a Jew!"
"And you are not a Jew? What is your name?"
"Abdul, most merciful--Abdul ben Cassim, of Ain Afroo in Zemmur."
"Zemmur!" ejaculated Mr. Greatorex. "Isn't that the neighbourhood where
Ingleton is said to be?"
"Yes," replied Tom. "We may find the lad useful. Tell us, Abdul, how you
came to be at sea with a Jew."
Abdul explained that, some five or six years before, his father, a
well-to-do saddlemaker of Ain Afroo, had contrived to quarrel with the
sheikh of his district, refusing, in fact, to pay the sheikh a very
extortionate levy. It was, Abdul admitted, a foolish thing to do, for
soon afterwards the saddlemaker died mysteriously. His family took
instant flight with what possessions they could get together, and found
refuge in Casa Blanca, where the boy had a distant relative, the owner
of a small coasting vessel. Since that time he had been engaged in
trading up and down the coast, and in his journeyings had picked up a
smattering of English and Spanish.
The small capital which the family had brought with them had been
considerably increased by profitable investments in trading ventures of
the lad's kinsman. A share in the business was owned by Salathiel ben
Ezra, the Jew who was now being brought from the wreck in the yacht's
boat. It was very unlucky; Abdul could not but think that the wreck must
have been caused by an evil spell cast on the boat by the Jew; for
Salathiel had never voyaged on the vessel before. The loss of the ship
meant the loss of almost the whole of his family's little fortune, and
Abdul feared they would be placed in the power of Salathiel, who already
had some claim on them which Abdul himself did not understand. But
everything happened by the will of Allah; it was written, and what is
written must be.
Abdul's story was hardly finished when the Jew was hauled on board. He
appeared to have quite regained his self-possession during the short
passage of the boat. He made a deep obeisance when Mr. Greatorex met him
on deck.
"I pay a thousand dutiful civilities," he said in a low smooth voice.
"The honourable sir overwhelms me with kindness in saving me and my
humble companion from the jaws of the monster, and my thanks are even as
the sand of the shore. May I beg the little loan of a dry garment or
two?"
"Take Mr. Salathiel below, Captain Bodgers," said Mr. Greatorex, "and
see what you can do for him."
With a deep salaam and a fawning smile the Jew departed.
"Um!" grunted Mr. Greatorex. "Don't like his _looks_, Tom."
"He's not prepossessing, certainly; a little too glib, don't you think?"
"A _rascal_, Tom; mark my words."
"I wouldn't go so far as that. But we may get something out of this, Mr.
Greatorex. This young Moor comes from the very country where Ingleton is
said to be. Don't you think we may profit by that?"
"How do you mean?"
"Why, instead of making for Rabat, as we intended, why not find some
quieter harbour where we shall not be such public characters, and get
the youngster to act as guide into the hills? No doubt he bears a grudge
against the sheikh who disposed of his father. If he has anything of the
usual oriental thirst for revenge he will be very willing to help us."
"Well, sound him; go at it _cautiously_, you know; _tact_--that's the
thing."
Meanwhile Salathiel ben Ezra had been clothed by Captain Bodgers in blue
serge trousers, a nankeen waistcoat, and an oilskin, the only other
garment available. The Jew cut a strange figure in this unfamiliar
attire. He was short, fat, thick-necked; the lower part of his face was
hidden by dense black moustache and beard; his eyes were unequal in size
and different in colour, and had a trick of roaming all around as he
talked.
"This is very elegant yacht," he said to Captain Bodgers as the garments
were laid before him. The captain, always a silent man, made no reply.
"That is most marvellous creature, the thing that flies in the air," the
Jew continued; "I have never seen anything like it. It is without doubt
a new sport--the English love sport. They spend much money in sport. And
where is the yacht bound for, good captain?"
"Goin' a cruise," said the captain shortly.
"Without doubt. And perhaps the kind governor will permit to call at a
port--at Rabat, say; for I am not a man of the sea, and I have business
there."
"Better ask him."
"I will do so. I will say also how I fill myself with wonder of the
thing that flies. I myself am a sport!"
Salathiel not merely expressed his wonderment to Mr. Greatorex, but
displayed a very active curiosity as to the construction of the machine
and the choice of those waters for the practice of the new sport. Mr.
Greatorex gave him no satisfaction, and was indeed somewhat curt in his
replies to the man's leading questions; but Salathiel smiled at each
rebuff, thereby confirming Mr. Greatorex's conviction that he was a
rascal.
The yacht lay to for several hours, getting under way again in the
afternoon. It was very hot; everybody was more or less sleepy, and Tom
thought it a good time to sound the Moor as to his willingness to assist
in the expedition. They had a long conversation in the cabin, the result
of which was entirely satisfactory to Tom. Abdul's one object in life
was to wreak vengeance on the sheikh for the wrongs his family had
suffered, and it was to be a thorough vengeance. He would not be
satisfied merely with the death of his enemy; that might have been
achieved already. But he was determined to ruin the sheikh's family,
just as his own had been ruined. He had hoped to save enough money in
course of time to gather about him a band of trusty Riffians who would
raid the oppressor's stronghold. The loss of the vessel had swept away
the savings of five years; but he was resolved to begin again and even
if fifty years were to pass before he was in a position to accomplish
his aim, he would never relinquish it. The sheikh himself might die
before then; in that case the weight of the avenging hand would fall on
his descendants.
When Tom reported to Mr. Greatorex the result of this conversation the
worthy merchant was shocked.
"Terrible, terrible!" he said. "Most unchristian! The Moors are no
better than _heathen_, Tom."
"Well, we don't know what it's like. I don't think you would be very
sweetly disposed towards any one who had served you as he has been
served."
"Me! I'd bring an _action_ against the villain, you may be sure of
that."
"I don't suppose they have actions at law in Morocco. But it's quite
clear that he will be willing to help us."
"True. I'll go down with you, and we'll come to an understanding with
him."
At this second interview Tom explained to Abdul the object he had in
view, and invited his assistance, Mr. Greatorex promising that if he
would guide Tom to the spot where the British diplomatist was held
captive he should be rewarded with a sum equal to what he had lost
through the wreck. Further, if Sir Mark Ingleton should actually be got
away safely, the sum should be doubled. Abdul jumped at the offer, and
listened respectfully enough when Mr. Greatorex went on to say that he
hoped the money would not be put to bad uses.
"Everything happens by the will of Allah," he said; "what is to be, must
be."
It was dusk when the little party broke up. Nobody noticed a figure
wriggle away from a ventilating grating over the skylight of the cabin.
Salathiel ben Ezra had watched these conferences between the Moor and
the Christians with much curiosity and suspicion, and without attracting
the attention of any one on deck he had contrived to steal to a spot
where he overheard a considerable part of the conversation.
Before he turned in, Tom had a long talk with Mr. Greatorex, which took
an unexpected trend. The two were alone in the cabin. Tom was in the
highest spirits, for the greatest difficulty he had foreseen--the
difficulty of finding his way about the hill village when he should
arrive at it--seemed to have been removed now that he had secured a guide
in Abdul.
"You see, it's just about there," he said, putting his finger down on
the map he had unrolled and spread on the table. "It is barely a hundred
miles inland, and without putting any strain on the engines I can do it
comfortably in four hours. Of course, we must arrive after dark; so
to-morrow night I think we'll make a start--Timothy and I and the Moor."
Then it was that the unexpected happened. Mr. Greatorex had been staring
gravely at the map. Suddenly he brought his fist down on it with a bang.
"Look here, Tom," he said, "we'll _drop_ it."
Tom was taken too much aback for words.
"Yes, we'll drop it. I won't _allow_ it. Suppose anything goes wrong
with the machine, where _are_ you? tell me that! In those hills--wild
country, wild men--_fanatics_, you know: hate all Christians, no sense of
law and order, won't pay their taxes, don't care tuppence for their
rulers--oh! I've _read_ all about 'em, you know, and 'pon my soul I don't
know what I was thinking of to come out here at all. We've had a
pleasant run, we've tested the airship; it'll _do_, Tom: but now we'll
go _back_, my boy, to our land of peace and settled government."
"But what about Sir Mark Ingleton?"
"Hang Ingleton! Ingleton never invented anything! If those Moors get
hold of you, England loses an inventor and I lose my man. No, no; we
mustn't meddle with state affairs."
And then Tom spent an hour in patiently combatting Mr. Greatorex's
objections, and in the end had for his meagre reward the indecisive
remark--
"Well, we'll see, Tom, we'll _see_."
Next morning Mr. Greatorex made no allusion to this conversation, but
was observed in close colloquy with Captain Bodgers. The result of this
removed the weight from Tom's mind. The yacht coasted up and down, the
captain scanning the desolate shore narrowly through his glass. At last
he found what he had been searching for, and steered the yacht into a
snug little bay. The country was well wooded, the trees coming down
almost to the edge of the narrow sandy beach.
"Can't better this, sir," said the captain. "The anchorage is none too
good, and if a storm comes up we may have to put out to sea; but it's a
quiet place, as you see; can't do no better."
"Very well. Now, Tom, I'm going to risk it. There's the _Country_ to
consider, you see. But you'll make me a promise not to run into danger;
I know you won't run away from it!"
"With all my heart," replied Tom. "We'll start to-night."
He spent the hours of daylight in making preparations. The machine was
overhauled; provisions and arms were stowed in the car; and Tom eagerly
awaited the moment for setting forth on his adventure.
In the afternoon, while the preparations were still in progress, a crowd
of natives appeared on the cliffs south of the bay--wild-looking men clad
in djellabas and kaftans and yellow shoes, and all armed with long guns.
They made no attempt to open communication with the yacht, but encamped
on the cliff as though to keep an eye on her movements.
Some little time afterwards, a small native craft was observed entering
the cove. Her appearance was hailed with shouts from the cliff, where
there were signs of excitement among the throng of spectators.
"Barbary pirates, eh, Bodgers!" said Mr. Greatorex, taking a look at the
felucca through his glass.
"Maybe, sir; they've plied that trade hereabouts for hundreds of years."
"They're making for the yacht."
"Yes. We'll serve out arms, sir; it's as well to be on the safe side."
"Tom, cover up the airship. I don't suppose they'll know what it is,
but, as Bodgers says, it's as well to be on the safe side."
As the vessel drew near, it was seen that she carried some thirty
fierce-looking fellows, tall and finely made. One of them hailed the
yacht. Mr. Greatorex called Abdul to his side and bade him interpret.
"Say they want to come on ship, sir--see the captain--do trade for guns
and powder."
"What do you say, Bodgers? Shall we let a few of them come aboard?"
"I would, sir. A few won't do no harm, and if we can make friends of
them, so much the better."
Accordingly, half a dozen Moors were allowed to mount to the yacht's
deck. They appeared to be much disappointed when Mr. Greatorex politely
explained through Abdul that he had no commercial object; his ostensible
purpose, to see the country, scarcely satisfied them. But they recovered
their spirits when he offered to show them over the vessel; and
afterwards when, at the suggestion of Captain Bodgers, who knew
something of the Moorish habits, they were each given a cup of weak tea
and unlimited sugar, they smacked their lips and declared themselves
well pleased with their reception.
While they were still sipping their tea, squatting on the deck,
Salathiel ben Ezra, who had hitherto kept in the background, came to Mr.
Greatorex and begged the favour of a few minutes' conversation.
"I ask you, excellency, to be so kind, as let me go with the men, when
they leave this ship. I have business on land; and thank you for your
kindness, and take leave respectfully."
"Hm! Moors _friends_ of yours, eh?"
"No, no; the Moors do not love the men of my nation; they oppress us;
they call us dogs and sons of swine."
"Well then, you'd better stay aboard, you know. You wouldn't be _safe_
among them in a wild spot like this. We can land you at Rabat in a day
or two; you'll be safer in a port."
"Ah, excellency, but I do not love the sea. It has wrecked my vessel; I
have much fear of the sharks. I am not at ease until I set foot again on
dry land."
Mr. Greatorex was perplexed. He had no reasonable excuse for detaining
the Jew: yet, remembering that the man had seen the airship at work, he
recognized that it would be in the highest degree impolitic to allow him
to go ashore and spread the news. He beckoned Tom forward and told him
of the Jew's request. Tom instantly grasped the situation.
"Mr. Salathiel forgets," he said, "that we have a claim for salvage on
his effects. (Whether we have such a claim legally I don't know," he
said to Mr. Greatorex afterwards, "but it was the first thing that came
into my head.")
"That is most true," said the Jew, with a smile; "but alas! I lost
everything in the wreck; and have only my clothes, and they----"
He shrugged expressively.
"Sorry for you," said Tom. "Still, it would not be fair to your
companion Abdul to leave him to meet our claim alone."
"But he can come with me," said Salathiel eagerly. "He will be with his
countrymen."
"You were not so anxious for his company when I first saw you," replied
Tom drily. "No, Mr. Salathiel; it will be better for you both to come
with us to Rabat: there we can lay this little matter of salvage before
the authorities."
The Jew heaved a sigh as of weariness, and acquiesced with a smile.
Neither Tom nor Mr. Greatorex was aware that while the Moors were being
shown over the vessel, Salathiel had had a few moments' conversation
with one of them. The only man on board who had observed this--and he had
not given a second thought to it--was M'Cracken, the new stoker.
The Moors left the yacht; the felucca sailed away; not shorewards, as
Tom had expected, but out to sea. The crowd on the cliff dispersed and
disappeared, and Tom's final preparations were made unobserved.
Night fell, and the little bay, hemmed in by the surrounding cliffs, was
enveloped in pitchy darkness. Ten o'clock had been fixed as the time for
the ascent of the airship, and up to the last moment Tom employed
himself in seeing that all was right. Mr. Greatorex was fidgety, asking
the same questions, repeating the same warnings, over and over again,
until Tom began to fear that even now he would change his mind and
prohibit the expedition. His excitement infected every member of the
crew. The men had eyes only for the wonderful machine and for the
figures that moved to and fro about it in the light of the yacht's
electric lamps. Even the men of the watch were diverted from their
duties when they perceived that the lashings holding the airship to the
deck were being cast loose. Thus it was that no one had observed a small
craft gliding into the bay; no one had noticed that a rope hung over the
side of the yacht from the main deck forward; no one was on the look-out
when a dusky form clambered silently up and helped to lower Salathiel
ben Ezra into the boat riding alongside.
But it happened that Timothy Ball, going forward at that moment to fetch
his reefer, which he had left in the fore cabin, noticed what was afoot
just as he reached the companion way. With a shout he dashed forward to
lay hands on the intruder. But, quick as thought, the Moor whipped out a
knife and struck at Timothy; and when the sailors came running to the
spot they found the poor fellow groaning on the deck, and caught a
glimpse of a felucca speeding away into the gloom.