END OF THE CONTEST--DEATH OF THYRA.
Thyra was securely protected by these gallant tars until the rest of
the party came up, which was not long, for after a slight skirmish,
Jack and his friends managed to cut through the new force of opposing
Turks, and make their way towards the ship.
Ibrahim Pasha, enraged at being thus defied, still pressed on, followed
by all his force, but they only arrived at the shore in time to see
Jack and the others embarking in the boats.
He now had recourse to threats.
"In the name of His Imperial Majesty the Sultan," he said to the
officer in command, "I command you to give up to me these Englishmen,
who have escaped from justice."
"They are British subjects," returned the officer, "who have sought the
protection of their flag."
"Shall British subjects commit crime and yet go free?" inquired
Ibrahim.
"What crime have they committed?" asked the officer.
"Murder--the assassination of his highness, Moley Pasha."
"What evidence have you to show to connect them with his death?" asked
the officer. "If you have but sufficient evidence, they shall be tried
before a proper tribunal. Where the English flag floats, justice shall
be done to all."
The pasha bit his lip.
He knew that his evidence against these Englishmen was very slight,
being in fact only the assertion of Murray and Chivey, and that any
mistake on his part would bring on political trouble that might be his
ruin, so he began to draw in.
"At least," he said, "you can not refuse to give me back my own
property, stolen from my palace."
"That's a reasonable request enough," answered the lieutenant. "Point
out your property, and you shall have it."
"There it is," exclaimed Ibrahim, as he pointed to Thyra.
"That your property, eh?" said the astonished officer. "Well, a very
nice property too. But how was she stolen?"
"Stolen from my harem by that son of Eblis!" cried the old pasha,
pointing to Jack.
"Ah, young man, I see how it is," said the officer, gravely shaking his
head; "you've been going it rather too fast, and brought on this
trouble all on account of this Greek girl."
"It's a lie," cried Jack, looking fiercely at the pasha; "she never was
stolen, and never did belong to that old coffee-coloured villain, and
what's more, never shall, if Britons can protect her. She fled of her
own accord from the palace of Moley Pasha, before he arrived, and
sought protection from me and my friends in the town."
"In that case," said the officer, "we cannot give her up, for the
British government does not recognise slavery, domestic or otherwise.
Under our flag she is free."
A cheer of defiance from the group of English sailors greeted this
speech.
"By the soul of the prophet," fiercely exclaimed the pasha, "am I to be
defied by a boy, and an infidel--a son of Sheitan, to boot?"
"Boy as I am, I defy you," retorted Jack.
This was a bold, but foolish and incautious speech, destined to be
disastrous.
The pasha, goaded to madness by Jack's words and defiant manner, drew
his pistol and discharged it pointblank at our hero.
The action was a rapid one--so rapid as to take Jack unawares, but not
so rapid as the love-quickened perceptions of Thyra.
She saw the pasha's movement, and throwing herself forward, seized Jack
just in time to draw him aside.
By so doing, she saved his life, but at the expense of her own.
The bullet lodged in her breast, and with a cry she fell wounded into
Jack's arms.
The disaster had come so quickly that our hero scarcely comprehended
what had happened.
The pasha frowned darkly when he saw Thyra fall.
Some remorse was awakened, even in his iron heart.
He had intended to take a life, but not hers, and now indeed the Pearl
of the Isles was lost to him for evermore.
"'Tis you now, pasha, who have committed crime," said the lieutenant,
"and for this I call you to account. Surrender to answer for this
deed."
"Surrender to Christian dogs! Never," answered the fierce Ibrahim.
"Then, men, fire upon these Turks," said the officer.
The rifles of the sailors were accordingly brought to cover upon the
pasha's force.
Ibrahim immediately recognised a fresh and imminent danger, and
resolved on a retreat.
Turning his horse, he gave the signal to his followers, and the whole
body marched off rapidly, pursued by the fire of the English.
During this parley, Kara-al-Zariel and his Arabs had taken advantage of
the preoccupation of their foes, to withdraw to the range of rugged
rocks near the shore, which would at once shelter them from the attacks
of the Turks and give them the advantage of being near their English
allies in the ship.
But the pasha, now that the main objects of his expedition had escaped
him, did not make any further attempts to pursue the Bedouins.
He and the remnant of his forces made the best of their way across the
desert to the town.
And now all attention was drawn towards Thyra.
All perceived, with the deepest regret, that her hours were numbered.
She had been that day in the thick of more than one deadly conflict.
Hundreds of bullets had passed her, but this one, aimed at another, had
only too successfully performed an errand of death.
Terrible indeed was the grief of Jack Harkaway.
"Oh, Thyra," he exclaimed, "my brave, dear girl, he has killed you."
"I know it," she replied, with a mournful resignation, "but thank
Heaven you, dear Jack, are saved."
"I have not deserved this devotion from you," said Jack, in broken
accents, while the tears fell from his eyes, "but you must not--shall
not die thus. Can nothing be done for her?" he asked, looking round at
the others.
"I fear not," replied the lieutenant, "but she must at once be taken on
board, and placed under the care of the surgeon."
Thyra had been lifted up and her wound staunched with her scarf.
"Here, Harry," said our hero, rousing himself from his grief, "help me
to carry her to the boat."
But ere his friend could fulfil his request, a tall, wild form
interposed between them, a brown, sinewy hand convulsively clutched
Jack's arm to draw him away.
"No hand but mine," cried a voice broken by intense grief, "shall bear
the Pearl of the Isles to yonder boat."
It was the Arab chief, Al-Zariel, his face haggard with grief, his dark
eyes gazing mournfully at the pale but beautiful face of her he loved.
He raised her tenderly, this wild warrior of the desert--tenderly as a
child, and disdained all aid, and bore her in his strong arms to the
boat.
The others drew back; no one at that moment had the heart to say him
nay.
Even the rough sailors, and the still rougher Arabs, were touched by
the mournful scene before them.
It was indeed a solemn procession to the boats, almost a funeral
_cortége_, for they bore one, who, though not yet dead, would never
see another day's sun arise.
Kara-al-Zariel gently deposited the dying girl in the boat.
"I have known her but a day," murmured the Arab chief, "and during that
day she has shone upon my path like a gleam of sunshine from the gates
of Paradise. From the first instant I saw her I loved her as I have
loved no other, and as I shall love no other to my life's end."
He stooped and imprinted a passionate kiss upon that marble brow,
pressing as he did so the lifeless hand, gazing into the fast-fixing
eyes, and murmuring "Farewell" in his native tongue.
She understood him, and with a smile of gratitude, answered him in the
same language.
The boat put off.
Kara-al-Zariel, standing on the sands, watched it for some moments, and
then, as if unable longer to bear the sight, turned away, knelt upon
the beach, and covered his eyes with his hands.
It was not grief alone that made him kneel beneath the open vault of
Heaven.
In that terrible moment he registered to Heaven a vow of vengeance
against the pasha who had slain the Pearl of the Isles.
The sturdy tars bent to their oars, and the boat left the murmuring
waters of the sunlit Mediterranean.
Arriving on the ship, Thyra was placed with all care and tenderness
upon deck.
The doctor examined the wound, and shook his head gravely.
"I can do nothing here!" he said, in subdued tones.
None answered him; only they saw too plainly that his words were final.
Poor Jack Harkaway! If ever in his young life he had felt grief, it was
now, when he saw one who had so hopelessly loved him, dying through
that very love.
"I am not afraid to die," said Thyra, in her low, faint voice, "and to
die in this way is the best of all; for my future life might have made
both you and myself unhappy."
"Unhappy! How could that be, Thyra?" asked Jack, as he knelt beside
her, his hand clasped in hers, her dying eyes looking upwards into his
face.
"Because your love is given to another," she sighed, "and, therefore,
mine is hopeless; but oh, may that other--whoever she may be--be now
and ever happy in your love."
"You have died for my sake!" he said, "and can you think I can feel any
thing but the deepest gratitude, the most tender feelings, towards you?
No, dear Thyra, I love you now, if I have not before."
"To hear that from your lips," she murmured, "is to die happy. All I
ask now, is that you will always remember the little Greek girl who
loved you, and--and who was unhappy in her life, and happy in her
death."
"Remember you!" said Jack, "remember you, my noble Thyra! after what
you have done? Always! always! Do not pain me by fearing that I may
forget you."
"Then I am happy still; listen. Here are a chain and a cross of gold;
keep them in remembrance of me, and when I am dead, have me conveyed,
if it is possible, to the land of my birth, the beautiful island of
Naxos, where my parents still live. Bury me there."
Jack promised this, and the old captain of the ship declared that he
would have her last request fulfilled.
Thyra's strength was now almost exhausted, but, with a last effort, she
raised herself from Jack's supporting arms, and addressed those around
her.
"Friends," she said, "I give you many, many thanks for what you have
done for me, in protecting me and aiding my escape. I can but give you
thanks and my farewell. Farewell!" she added, "to the bright blue sky,
the golden sea, and the beautiful green island where I was born and
where I hope to rest when I am no more."
Here her voice died into a murmur, and the rest was inaudible to all
but Jack.
Jack stooped as the Arab chief had done, and impressed a fervent kiss
upon the fair young face, still bent lovingly towards him. At that
moment he felt an electric thrill convulse her frame, followed by a
complete stillness. In that last fond embrace her spirit had fled.
Thyra's troubles were over.
Two days afterwards the ship, whose captain had undertaken to convey
Jack and his friends from those turbulent shores, touched at the Greek
island of Naxos. There Thyra's parents were found, and the sad news of
their child's death communicated to them.
She was buried in the little cemetery close to the shore, and amid
groves of cypress and gardens of flowers, where sweet birds sing and
sea breezes softly murmur, lies the beautiful Greek girl who loved and
died for young Jack Harkaway.
And all hearts were heavy with grief when, after the funeral, they
hoisted sail, and steered in a westerly direction.