Meanwhile, how had things been faring with Herr Hildebrand Schwab, the
unlucky representative of the Schlagintwert Company of Düsseldorf and
the partner of Sir Mark's captivity?
When Abdul pointed out the cave in which it was advisable that they
should take shelter, and the means of access to it, Schwab groaned
deeply, and declared that nothing on earth should induce a German
subject of his weight to attempt so perilous a climb. But on reflection
he came to look upon it as the lesser of two evils, and with much
travailing of spirit and discomfiture of body he allowed himself to be
assisted up the incline so long as progress on foot was possible, and
then to be hoisted at the end of the rope. Abdul's strength alone would
not have sufficed to haul so great a mass into safety; but Salathiel ben
Ezra, who was by this time thoroughly weary of solitude, and had come to
the end of his stock of provisions, lent willing help, with a view, as
it proved, of turning the situation to account.
He used every means of persuasion and cajolery which his ingenuity could
devise to persuade Abdul to release him. One of his propositions was
that they should convey the German to the sheikh of Ain Afroo and claim
a sufficient reward. Abdul ridiculed the idea. Both he and the Jew would
get short shrift from the sheikh now that the more valuable of his
captives was snatched from his grasp. Salathiel then proposed that they
should try to gain the nearest town where they might find Europeans, and
tell a moving story of the sufferings and perils they had endured in
rescuing the German from the hands of his captors. But to this, as to
his other suggestions, Abdul turned a deaf ear.
They were a strangely assorted trio. Schwab only half trusted the Moor;
the Moor despised Schwab; both disliked the Jew. It was not long before
Schwab declared that he was hungry, and illustrated the privations he
had already suffered by exhibiting the unwonted gap between his
waistcoat and his person: "And I have ze straps of my vaistcoat drawn
_so_ tight!" he added. Salathiel's scanty stock of provisions having
been exhausted, Abdul descended to forage, and returned with a supply of
dates and olives, and the tin filled with water at the spring.
"Ach! My pipe! It is in ze room vere first I vas laid up. Mein Gott! And
ze list of Schlagintwert; ze last edition, revise and enlarge. Ze Moors
zey vill now order vizout me, and I lose colossal sum in commission!"
All this was Greek to Abdul, but a little more comprehensible to the
Jew, with whom, however, Schwab refused to discuss business. He
preferred to ply Abdul diligently with questions about the airship:
where it came from; how it was driven; what was the composition of the
fuel.
"Already is it partly known to me," he said. "It contain large quantity
Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six. But zat is not all. I
know it! Vy? Because my Jarman intellex tell me so. But vizout doubt I
discover it; zen zere shall be business for Schlagintwert. You do not
know vat ze ozer zink is?"
Abdul shook his head.
"Zen you vas never made for business. Vun cannot learn it; it is born.
So vas I born!"
He discoursed on business and other things, despising his audience for
their want of appreciation; then fell to bemoaning his fate. Thus the
hours passed away.
At last the monotony of the situation was broken. Abdul, like a good
Mohammedan, was engaged in his devotions when the Jew, at the mouth of
the cave, caught sight of a party of Moors far below, and signalled to
them before he could be prevented. Springing up, Abdul was on the point
of killing him with his knife when Schwab hastily interposed.
"No, I vill not have it," he said. "You kill him; zen am I accomplice;
and vat is zat for a kind of business, I say?"
But he did not decline to assist Abdul to truss up the Jew and render
him incapable of further mischief. No more than Abdul himself did he
wish to attract visitors.
The mischief, however, was already done. The Moors, a search party
despatched by the sheikh, had observed the Jew's signals, and at once
spurred their horses across the country until they reached the foot of
the precipitous ascent. They dismounted: one of them began to climb up.
For a time Abdul watched his progress; then, when he thought the man had
mounted far enough, he threatened to hurl him from the face of the cliff
if he advanced another step upwards. It was so obviously in Abdul's
power to make good his threat that the Moor hesitated; then, in response
to an encouraging shout from below, he again began to climb. He may have
reflected that his comrades could afford to shout; they were not
clinging like a fly to the face of an almost perpendicular wall of rock;
but he may have reflected also that great would be his praise and reward
if he succeeded in bringing to account the insolent strangers who had
done such despite to his sheikh. No doubt also he reckoned on support
from the member of the party who had signalled.
Up he came, slowly feeling his way. Abdul bent over the brink, and, just
as the man ascended within reach, smartly rapped his knuckles with the
butt of Tom's revolver. At the same moment a shot from below struck the
rock within an inch of his head. Abdul at once darted back within the
shelter of the cave; but the climber, taught by the sharp blow he had
received, ventured no farther, and shortly afterwards began to descend.
When he reached the party below, it was clear that he met with a
reprimand from the leader for his want of courage; but he sullenly
refused to make another attempt, and seemed by his gesticulations to
invite each of his comrades in turn to take his place. But nobody came
forward, and after an excited discussion--portions of which were in tones
so loud that Abdul was able to interpret to Schwab, nervously eager to
learn what was to be done--a messenger was sent off in the direction of
Ain Afroo, while the five or six who remained settled down to keep watch
at the foot of the precipice.
[Illustration: "ABDUL BENT OVER THE BRINK AND SMARTLY RAPPED HIS
KNUCKLES WITH THE BUTT OF TOM'S REVOLVER."]
Rather more than an hour passed. Schwab became more and more anxious. At
last a much larger party rode down at a gallop, among them the sheikh
himself. Raising his voice when he came below the cave, he called on the
occupants to surrender, threatening them with the most fearful tortures
if they persisted in defying him. It was evident from the terms he used
that he was under the impression that his escaped prisoners and their
rescuers were all in the cave together, and thus that he had them fairly
trapped. Abdul made the most of this mistake. He warned the sheikh
against braving the power of the white man. He had already had one
example of it; the Firangi had shown him more mercy than he deserved;
the second example would entail dire consequences on himself and his
village. But this reply only fanned the flames of the sheikh's wrath; he
was not to be intimidated by words: and, hurling more threats, he began
to consult with his followers as to some means of enforcing his summons.
It was clearly a hazardous if not indeed an impossible task to approach
the cave from below. One man in the cave, so long as he kept himself out
of range of rifle fire, could hold any number at bay. How much more,
then, would it be disastrous to make the attempt against, as the sheikh
supposed, five or six well-armed men? But, as Abdul well knew, it was
just possible to gain the plateau above the cave, from which access to
it could be obtained, by climbers acting in concert on the eastern face
of the hill. That this longer but easier ascent would be known to the
enemy there was no doubt, for Abdul had just recognized, among the
horsemen who had accompanied the sheikh, a young man who had been his
companion in former days, and with whom as a boy he had actually
performed the feat.
Anxiously he watched the colloquy below. Behind, Schwab was imploring
him to explain what the sheikh had said. It turned out as he had feared.
His former companion with a few others left the sheikh and disappeared;
the rest made themselves comfortable within a few yards of the foot of
the hill. Abdul had little doubt that he would soon have to reckon with
an attack from above; not an easy matter, in truth, but far more likely
to succeed than any attempt from below.
There was a long interval. Under stress of fear and hunger, Schwab was
nearly demented. He walked about the cave, with his hands pressed hard
upon the neighbourhood of the lowest button of his waistcoat, uttering
guttural groans, making lugubrious appeals to the Homeland, and to a
lady whom he called at one time Mrs. Bottle, at another "mein briddy
Chain," and ever and anon anathematizing Thomas Dorrell, "vat do nozink
for me--for me, vat do so much for him viz Photographic Sensitizer
Preparation Number Six." Abdul paid no heed to the German's fumings and
frettings, nor to the entreaties of Salathiel ben Ezra, who, stretched
on his back, tied hand and foot, added to his prayers the most lavish
promises if the Moor would only release him and help him to return to
his own place.
At last, Abdul, squatting silent and watchful just within the opening of
the cave, saw a pair of legs dangling in front of him. Some of the enemy
had, as he had foreseen, made their way to the top of the hill, and were
about to attempt to reach the cave from above. It was a foolhardy
proceeding, for they could only come singly, and the occupants of the
cave could easily dispose of them. Indeed, Abdul surmised that the
sheikh was trying an experiment, sending one of his men to draw the
badger. However that may have been, the application of the point of
Abdul's knife to the calf of one of the dangling legs caused the owner
of them to draw them hastily up and to swarm up the rope to which he was
clinging, as a spider runs up his filmy thread when threatened by an
enemy.
Apparently the sheikh was satisfied that a direct assault, whether from
above or below, was hopeless, for thenceforth the cave party were left
in peace. But it was peace only externally. Even Abdul himself, who had
hitherto preserved extraordinary composure, now showed signs of
perturbation. What was the enemy doing? He dared not attempt to see, for
he knew that if he showed his head it would be the target for a dozen
bullets. Did the sheikh intend to starve them out? Their food was all
gone; the tin of water was almost empty; it was impossible to get a
fresh supply of either. Voices were heard from below; once Abdul heard
an answering call from above; it appeared indeed as if the sheikh had
resolved on an investment, knowing that sooner or later the occupants of
the cave must yield or die.
The day passed. Schwab fell into a sleep of exhaustion. Abdul remained
sleepless, wondering why the Englishman had not reappeared with the
airship, as he had said he would do. Had some mishap befallen him?
Surely he had not wilfully deserted them! This Abdul refused to believe.
When morning broke he ventured to go to the mouth of the cave and look
out. The Moors were still below; apparently they had camped all night on
the ground. They caught sight of Abdul, and mockingly invited him to
share their cous-cousoo. He made no reply, and again withdrew into the
shadow.
Schwab was by this time a wreck. He lay silent. From the back of the
cave came piteous moans from Salathiel, begging to be relieved of his
bonds. But Abdul was obdurate; he had enough to do to keep watch on the
enemy in front, without having to reckon with the Jew besides, for he
knew that Salathiel would stick at no treachery.
Impassive as Abdul appeared, he was in reality on the verge of despair.
The time was fast approaching when he must choose between starvation and
surrender. The choice did not trouble him; he would never surrender to
the sheikh of Ain Afroo. What troubled him was the thought that his old
enemy would once more triumph; that the vengeance on which he had set
his whole mind for years was to be snatched from him.
He was bitterly thinking on these things when Schwab rose feebly to his
feet.
"I can no more," he said; "I go to yield myself. I muss have somezink to
eat. Still am I Jarman sobjeck; zey vill respeck our Kaiser who is in
Berlin."
Abdul expostulated, striving in his imperfect English to warn the German
of the risk he ran. He knew the sheikh; he was a terrible enemy; he
would care nothing who or what his prisoner was. Who in Europe would be
any the wiser if in this remote mountainous region a man were slowly
done to death in the dungeons of a kasbah? But Schwab would not listen;
he craved for food; "Let us eat, for to-morrow we die," exactly
expresses his state of mind. He moved towards the entrance to the cave,
shaking off, with a sudden access of rage, Abdul's detaining hand. The
Moor followed him, and stood behind him when Schwab, at the brink of the
precipice, waved his hand and shouted--
"I give myself opp. But you muss come and fetch me."
But before the echo of his voice had died away, Abdul suddenly pulled
him back by main force into the cave.
"See! see!" he cried.
"Tausend Teufel! Vat shall I see?" returned Schwab.
At the point where Abdul now stood the country immediately beneath the
cave was invisible, and both the men were screened from the Moors. But
the sky was open, and far away in the clear blue to the north-west Abdul
had descried a speck which moment by moment was growing larger.
"Vat shall I see?" repeated Schwab, vainly looking in the direction of
Abdul's stretched forefinger.
"The flying ship!" cried Abdul. "It comes!"
"You say zat! Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see!"
He roofed his eyes with his hands, and peered into the distance.
"Ach! zey veep!" he said, rubbing away the tears that had gathered. "It
is for vant of food, nozink else."
He looked again.
"Boy, you are right!" he exclaimed, "truly it is ze airship. Zey come
for me! Ach! you dirty Moors, now you may go choke! I vizdraw vat I said
about give myself opp. I vas not myself; I vas--I vas--anozer man. Ach,
boy, so am I indeed hungry!"
The two watched the airship drawing nearer. For a moment Abdul wondered
whether it would come into any danger from the rifles of the Moors
either below or on the hilltop above. But remembering how clearly
everything on the ground could be seen from the car of the airship, he
was reassured, guessing that Tom would descry the besiegers in plenty of
time to avoid their shots.
To gain the hilltop the airship had approached at a considerable
altitude, but was now dropping. About half a mile from the cave it
suddenly made an upward sweep, and Abdul knew that the enemy had been
seen. Before it sailed out of sight over the hill, Abdul plucked off his
djellab, and waved it in the mouth of the cave. The signal provoked two
or three shots from those of the Moors below whose attention was not
engrossed by the machine, which some of them had seen before and of
which all had heard most marvellous accounts. Abdul was unhurt, and his
signal was answered by a shot from the car of the airship, which then
passed out of sight.
"Famos! Zey know ve are still alive! Mein Gott! truly mein hunger is
colossal."
Tom had in point of fact discovered the enemy at the moment when Abdul
noticed the change in the direction of the airship. The discovery was by
no means a welcome one.
"I didn't reckon on their hiding-place being found out," he said to
Oliphant. "It makes things rather awkward."
"They must be in a pretty bad state in the cave if the Moors have been
here long."
"And we can't get at them; we daren't go too near, for at close quarters
the Moors would riddle the planes with their shot and very likely smash
the engines. And we certainly can't let the airship down and go for
them. The worst of it is, they know pretty well by this time what the
airship really is, and we couldn't throw them into a panic as we did
before."
"Confound this German!" said Oliphant. "I shouldn't mind if we could
have a really good scrimmage and some fun for our money, but there's
nothing in it."
"There's Abdul, you see," replied Tom. "We'll have to think it out.
They're in the cave, safe enough, and can evidently hold on there. Let
us make for that hill yonder, and think the matter out."
As the airship crossed the hill of the cave, Tom steering for the
loftier hill some five miles to the east, a dozen Moors sprang to their
saddles and set off in pursuit. But the ground was very rough; they had
to follow a tortuous route; and when, a few minutes later, the airship
reached the hill, Tom calculated that he had probably half-an-hour to
spare before the horsemen would arrive.
"We'd better ground, and economize fuel," he said. "'Pon my word,
Oliphant, it seems as if this is going to be as tough a job as it was at
the kasbah."
Choosing a fairly open space almost at the top of the hill, Tom brought
the machine to earth. Then, while Oliphant watched for signs of the
pursuing horsemen, Tom stretched himself on his back, with his hands
under his head and his cap tilted over his eyes, and settled down to a
good hard think.
"Don't go to sleep," said Oliphant.
Tom replied with a grunt.