THE ADVENTURES OF SHAH SOWAR AND ABDUL MUJID
Many strange adventures have befallen individual men of the Guides, and
many a hairbreadth escape have they had. It was only a few years ago
that the following adventures occurred.
An order reached regimental headquarters to detail a cavalry soldier who
could speak Persian, and one stout of heart and limb, to accompany a
British officer on a mission of considerable danger and uncertainty. He
was to call at a certain house, on a certain day, in Karachi, and to ask
for the name of Smith. Shah Sowar was the trooper selected, and when he
arrived at the place of tryst he was ushered into the presence of Smith.
Smith, however, was not Smith at all, but somebody quite different; not
that it mattered much, for Smith was only his Karachi name.
Next day, on board ship, he became the Sheikh Abdul Qadir, on his way to
Mecca or where not; and from that moment commenced the troubles of the
redoubtable Shah Sowar. To anyone who has the least knowledge of Asia
the extraordinary difficulty which any European must experience in
disguising himself as a man of an Eastern race will be apparent. By dint
of living for years as Asiatics, exceptional linguists like Vambery and
Burton have undoubtedly been able to pass unchallenged, but anyone
possessing qualities short of theirs must inevitably be discovered a
dozen times a day. The way we eat and drink, the way we walk and sit,
the way we wear our clothes and boots, the way we wash,--every little
thing is absolutely different from the methods and manners of the East.
These things Shah Sowar pointed out with much politeness, and great
persistency, to Sheikh Abdul Qadir, late Smith. "Be it spoken with the
greatest respect, but there would be less liability to the unmannerly
curiosity of strangers if the Cherisher of the Poor wore his own
clothes. Beautifully as your Highness speaks Persian and Hindustani [his
Highness really spoke both indifferently] it would be difficult for one
of such commanding presence to pass himself for any but an Englishman.
English officers are a race of princes; how then can they disguise
themselves as inferior folk?"
"Don't fret," replied Smith, _alias_ Sheikh Abdul Qadir; "I am going to
remain a prince all right; for I propose passing myself off as a near
relation of the Amir, a refugee from Kabul."
"As your Honour wishes," was the resigned reply; but Shah Sowar saw big
rollers ahead.
Arrived on the coasts of Persia (it matters not where), Sheikh Abdul
Qadir, Shah Sowar, and a cook-boy landed as refugees from Kabul, on
their way to place their swords and services at the disposal of the Shah
of Persia.
In these days an officer with a Government permit might probably travel,
with a moderate escort, in perfect safety throughout Persia; but at that
time a Government permit, and a small escort, would merely have served
to draw the unwelcome attention of the hordes of robbers who infested
the country. For good and sufficient reasons our friend Smith was
required to pass through a certain tract of very unsettled country on
his journey, ways and means being left to his own ingenuity.
As Shah Sowar had foretold, the first serious pitfall was the question
of language. When persons of some rank are travelling it is customary
for the headman, or chief, to come and pay his respects to them, when
they are encamped near his village or domain. It was after one such
visit that the chief, as he came out, called Shah Sowar to him and said:
"Who did you say that your master is?"
"Commander of the Faithful, his name is Sheikh Abdul Qadir, a relative
of the Amir of Kabul and a refugee," glibly replied Shah Sowar, but
inwardly considerably perturbed.
"Well, with all respect," replied the chief, "I never heard anyone talk
such bad Persian; he talks just like an Englishman"; and with that he
departed.
Shah Sowar at once grasped what a narrow escape they had had, for an
Englishman found in that region in disguise was a dead man. So soon
therefore as it was dark he persuaded his master to saddle and move on a
few miles, lest further reflection might shed a light on the dim
suspicions of the chief. One bargain Shah Sowar made during that night
march, and that was that Sheikh Abdul Qadir was henceforth to remain
speechless, and leave the rest to his own ingenuity and knowledge of his
countrymen.
A few days afterwards an occasion offered for testing the new
arrangement. Arrived at a somewhat important town, a servant of the
local chief came to make enquiries about the new arrivals, in order that
the etiquette of visiting might be observed, this etiquette ruling that
the inferior should pay the first visit. Here Shah Sowar at once took a
high hand, insisting that his master, from his princely connections,
held the higher rank and must be visited first. "But," he added in a
confidential whisper, "my master is an extraordinary man; some days he
is as lively as a bulbul and laughs and talks with everyone; on others
he sits silent and morose and will not utter a word. Be it spoken in
confidence, but I think he must be mad. At any rate, prepare your
master. If to-day happen to be one of his bad days, then that is kismet
and your master must excuse." Having thus prepared one side, he placed a
bed across the end of the tent and asked Sheikh Abdul Qadir, late
Smith, to sit cross-legged on it, to glare fixedly and furiously into
vacancy, and to grunt at intervals, but on no account to utter a
syllable.
In due course the chief and his retinue arrived, and were met with great
politeness and many salaams by Shah Sowar; but that worthy managed to
whisper in the chief's ear the sad intelligence that this was one of his
master's bad days, and that the Evil Spirit was upon him. "Nevertheless
be pleased to enter," he added aloud; "His Highness will be glad to see
you."
The exceedingly restricted area of the tent prevented a large assembly,
but the chief, his brother, and Shah Sowar managed to squeeze in and
squat down. After exchanging salutations the chief gravely stroked his
beard, and gave vent to a few polite expressions of welcome. To these
Sheikh Abdul Qadir vouchsafed no reply beyond a grunt. The chief glanced
at Shah Sowar, and that excellent comedian, assuming the ashamed look of
one disgraced by his master's rudeness, at once made a long-winded and
complimentary reply in the most fluent and high-flown Persian. Then,
before the effect should be lost, he ordered in tea, and commenced an
animated conversation with the two strangers, all parties absolutely
ignoring, out of politeness, Sheikh Abdul Qadir and his Evil Spirit.
Thus anxiously skating over the thin ice, Shah Sowar at last, with a
feeling of infinite relief, bowed out the visitors, charmed with his
excellent manners and quite unsuspecting that they had sat for
half-an-hour within two feet of a British officer. When the time for the
return visit came, Shah Sowar went alone to make the readily accepted
excuse that his master was not in a fit state that day to fulfil social
obligations.
Thus the ready wit and resource of Shah Sowar piloted the party through
many dangerous waters, till one day they chanced across a nomad tribe
under a venerable white-bearded chief, who could count a thousand spears
at his beck and call. The usual visits of ceremony had been paid and
tided over somehow, and the travellers were resting during the heat of
the afternoon, when a confidential servant of the White Beard came to
Shah Sowar and said that his master had sent for him. A peremptory call
like this boded no good, but by way of getting a further puff to show
which way the wind blew, Shah Sowar assumed a haughty air. "Peace be
unto you," he said; "there is no hurry. I will come when I am
sufficiently rested, and have received permission from my own master."
"Be advised by me, who wish you no harm, to come at once, as the matter
is of importance," replied the messenger. "Oh, very well," grumbled Shah
Sowar, feeling that trouble was in the air; "I will come."
When he arrived at the camp of the White Beard he was immediately
ushered into his tent, and there found the old warrior seated
cross-legged on a rich carpet, and gravely stroking his beard. "Look
here, Shah Sowar," said he with soldierly directness, "it is no good
lying to me. That is a sahib you have with you. I have been to Bushire,
and I know an Englishman when I see him."
Shah Sowar was prepared for this, but, by way of gaining time, he
answered: "Your Excellency's cleverness is extraordinary; to lie to your
Highness would be the work only of a fool. Perchance my master may be a
sahib, but there are many nations of sahibs, and why should this one be
English?" "Peace, prattler!" sternly replied the old autocrat; "there is
only one nation of real sahibs, and they are English."
Shah Sowar, driven into a corner, stroked his beard for some time under
the rebuke, and then said: "I perceive there is no good trying to
deceive so great a diviner as you. I will speak the truth. My master is
an English officer travelling on business. What then?"
"What then?" slowly replied the White Beard. "Why, I have sworn on the
Koran, and before all my tribe, to kill every Englishman I come across.
I fear no nation on earth but the English, and lest they swallow me up,
I have sworn to swallow them, one by one, whenever I meet them."
"If your Honour has thus sworn there is nothing else to be said,"
answered Shah Sowar. "But I have one petition to make, and that is to
give us till the morning before we die."
"Your petition is granted; but why say 'we'? I shall not kill you, for
you are a Mahomedan, and a Persian, and shall join my horsemen," said
the White Beard.
"When the Sahib dies, I die also," was the brave reply. And with that
Shah Sowar hurried back to tell the bad news to his master. Arrived at
their little camp, his worst forebodings were confirmed, for a strong
detachment of the White Beard's men guarded it on every side.
All that afternoon the prisoners racked their brains to find a way of
escape, and hope seemed to die with the setting sun. Then Shah Sowar
arose and said, "I will have one more try to see what can be done"; and
gaining permission, he went over again to the chief's camp, and asked
for another audience. The old man was at his prayers, and Shah Sowar
devoutly and humbly joined in. When they had finished he asked for a
private audience, as he had something of importance to say.
"Well, what is it?" said the White Beard when they were alone.
"It is this," gravely replied the Guides' trooper, "and be pleased to
listen attentively. When you bade me speak the truth this afternoon, I
spoke fearlessly and at once. I acknowledged that my Sahib is an English
officer. Hear now also the truth, and on the Koran I am prepared to
swear it. This English officer whom you propose to kill is the bearer of
an important letter to the Shah of Persia, and I swear to you by Allah
and all his prophets that, should harm befall him, for every hair of his
head the Shah will kill one of your horsemen. Make calculation, oh
venerable one; has not the Sahib more than a thousand hairs on his head?
I have spoken. Now do your worst, but blame not me afterwards."
"This is very unfortunate," said the much perturbed chieftain. "Have I
not sworn before all my people? How then can I now spare this
Englishman? My kismet is indeed bad; I can see no road of escape."
"That I can show you," said Shah Sowar, "and for that am I come again."
"Say on, I am listening."
"You have sworn before your people that you will kill the Englishman at
dawn; but there is no reason why the Englishman should not escape during
the night. To save your face I will heavily bribe one of the sentries,
and we will escape on foot leaving everything behind. Thus you will get
all our horses, and mules, and tents, and all that we have. And in the
morning you can say 'It was the will of God,' and march away in the
opposite direction."
"You have spoken well," said the chief after deep thought. "I will do as
you wish; it is the will of God." Then he added aloud, and with anger so
that all might hear: "I have spoken; at dawn the accursed Englishman
shall die, and I will shoot him with mine own hand. Praise be to Allah,
and Mahomed the prophet of Allah."
So Shah Sowar went back to his Sahib and explained the plan of escape.
And as soon as all was still the three slipped noiselessly out of the
camp, past the bribed sentry, and, setting their faces to the south,
toiled on, hiding at intervals, till they had placed well-nigh forty
miles between themselves and the camp of the White Bearded Chief.
Then his heart broke through the stiff reserve of the Englishman, and he
embraced his gallant comrade, and said: "You and I are no longer master
and servant, sahib and trooper; you have saved my life and henceforth we
are brothers. What can I do for you to show my gratitude?"
"Nothing, Sahib, except to tell my Colonel that I have done good service
and upheld the name of the Guides." And the only other thing that Shah
Sowar would accept was a watch to replace that which he had lost in the
flight; and on it is inscribed, _To my faithful friend Shah Sowar in
memory of_--(and here follows the date of their flight).
* * * * *
Amongst the explorers who have gone forth from the Guides, taking their
lives in their hands and barely escaping, was one Abdul Mujid. This fine
specimen of the trained adventurer was working through a hitherto
unmapped and little known country, when one evening he came to a small
village, and made his way as usual to the travellers' serai. There
also, as is not unusual, he found assembled, besides wayfarers like
himself, the headman of the village and two or three other residents,
smoking and chatting. They made room for Abdul Mujid, and with the
outwardly polite insistence of the Oriental asked his business, whence
he came, and whither he was going.
While our good friend the Guide was spinning such romances as seemed
good unto him, to account for his presence in this secluded valley, a
small boy came and squatted down at his feet, to lose not a word of the
story. And sitting there, like a boy, or a magpie, he picked up one of
the shoes which Abdul Mujid had slipped off as he took his seat and
began to examine it curiously. This perfectly childish act by chance
caught the wandering glance of the headman, and as he looked at the
shoes, and then up at the fine strapping fellow who owned them, a sudden
thought occurred to him. "Those are very like soldiers' shoes," he said
in a hard, suspicious voice; "I have seen them wearing the like in
Peshawur."
Abdul Mujid was considerably taken aback, for it had never occurred to
him that in these wild parts he might chance across anyone who had
travelled far enough to know the difference between a soldier's and any
other shoe. However, his ready wit came to his service, and with scarce
a pause he replied quietly: "Yes, I bought them in one of the border
villages from a sepoy on leave," and then turned the conversation on to
less dangerous ground. But he saw he was suspected, and any moment
might find him seized and searched. It was too late to move on to
another village; indeed to attempt to do so would only serve to confirm
suspicion, and the moment he had passed the sacred portals of
hospitality he would have been instantly followed and cut down.
Shoes in themselves are not enough to hang a man, but a prismatic
compass assuredly is. In a Pathan country murder, rapine, and
cattle-lifting are comparatively venial offences, little more indeed
than instances of lightheartedness; but to draw a map of the country is
worse than the seven deadly sins rolled into one, and short will be the
shrift of him who is caught in the act. It therefore seemed to Abdul
Mujid only a wise precaution to get rid of his prismatic compass as
speedily as possible.
With this end in view he walked over to the well, as if to get a drink
of water, and, as skilfully as he could, dropped the compass down the
well. But fate was against him that day; sharp ears heard the hollow
splash, and sharp voices immediately demanded what he had thrown down
the well.
"Only a stone off the coping," replied Abdul Mujid.
"You lie!" yelled the headman. "You are a spy of the accursed British
Government, and out of your own mouth will I condemn you. Here, Yusuf,
get a stout rope and let the boy down the well; there isn't more than
half a yard of water in it, and we will soon see whether the stranger
lies or not."
Here was a nice predicament! But Abdul Mujid faced the peril like a man,
and held to the faint hope that no one would recognise the instrument
even if they found it. It was a false hope. In a few minutes up came the
boy, gleefully flourishing the damning evidence, and there was not one
who doubted what it was. Probably in the circumstances, whatever the
article it would have had the same effect, for the case was already
prejudiced.
"Now then, thou son of a burnt father, what sayest thou?" screamed the
headman. "Thou art a spy as I said, and shalt surely die. _Hein!_ what
sayest thou?"
"You speak truth, father," replied the sepoy. "I am making a map for the
British Government; but this is only a little portion of it, and if you
object I will leave out this part altogether, and then there can be no
cause of offence."
"Go to," sneered the headman, "I shall take a much more effective way of
closing the matter by killing you at once. Here, Yusuf, bring my gun,
and you, young men, see that this misbegotten Kafir does not escape."
So Yusuf went off for the gun, and Abdul Mujid turned his face towards
Mecca, and said the evening prayer. Then hope came to him from above and
he said to the headman: "Be not hasty; I am a follower of the Prophet as
also are ye. Give me till the morning that I may make my peace with
Allah."
"It is well said," interposed a bystander; "he is alone and has no
chance of escape. Let us therefore not kill him like a dog or an
infidel; but let him make his peace with Allah, and then in the morning
he shall die."
And so it was settled, and Abdul Mujid was bound hand and foot, and laid
upon a _charpoy_[23]; and beside him, with a drawn sword at his side, lay
down the man who was to guard him, the two on the same bed.
[23] _Charpoy_, the common bed of the country.
All night long Abdul Mujid lay racking his brains for a means of escape,
and found none; and then just before dawn came Allah to his help.
Nudging his bedfellow hard, the sepoy said: "Awake, sluggard, I wish to
go and pray."
"Well, go and pray," grumbled the guard.
"Go and pray!" replied Abdul Mujid; "how can I go and pray with my arms
and feet tied? Can I make the salutations and genuflections ordered in
the Koran while thus strapped up?"
"No, I suppose you can't," answered the guard. "But you also don't
suppose I am going to leave my warm quilt on this bitterly cold morning
to guard you while you pray?"
"That is not the least necessary," said Abdul Mujid; "if you will free
one hand I will spread my own carpet by the bed, and you can thus guard
me without getting up, for my legs are tied, and therefore I cannot
escape. Assuredly Allah hath spread the cloak of stupidity and sloth
over this fellow," he said to himself, as his janitor rolled over, and
lazily muttering "Oh very well, anything for a little peace," to the
sepoy's intense delight fumblingly untied one of his hands.
What followed was like a streak of lightning from heaven. In one flash
Abdul Mujid had seized the naked sword, and the slothful sentry, before
he could draw another breath, lay dead to all below; in another flash he
had severed his bonds, and was making the best of his way across the
fields. Nor did he halt, night or day, till weary and exhausted he fell
down and slept by the first milestone that proclaimed that he was again
in British territory.
Nearly a year afterwards a motley band of ruffians might have been seen
walking up the main road at Mardan towards the Court-House. It was a
deputation from a far-away country come to discuss matters with the
political officer. At their head on a sorry steed rode the chief person:
at the roadside by the post-office, idly watching the party file past,
was a man of the Guides; and when the eyes of those two, the Guide and
the man on the pony, met, they both remembered the village well, and one
recollected how nearly it was his last night on earth.
"May you never grow weary," said the Guide in the polite formula of the
road.
"May your riches ever increase," came the stock reply.
"And how about that man on the charpoy?" bawled Abdul Mujid.
"Oh, he's all right, having by the mercy of God a thick skull," came the
reply.
"Shahbash! come and feast with me when your business is finished.
I will make preparations at the cook-shop at the head of the bazaar."
And so ended in peace and jollification an adventure which at one time
looked much more like cold-blooded murder and a string of vendettas.