Prisoners
SURROUNDED by a horde of fierce Arabs, who, with drums beating and
weapons waving, seemed more like a victorious host than a retreating
army, Arthur Reeves and his young companions were forced through the
brambles and scrub that grew thickly within the oasis. In the open
the sun beat fiercely upon their bare backs and heads, for in the
one-sided struggle all three had lost their linen-swathed hats.
Every now and again a bursting shell, falling wide of the Arabs,
would urge them to increase their pace, for the sons of the desert
had a deep respect for shrapnel; but at length, drawing beyond range,
the fierce warriors lost their sense of fear, and began to beat their
drums with renewed vigour, while taunts and threats--fortunately
unintelligible to the lads--were hurled at the captives.
At length the party reached a fairly extensive clearing in the oasis,
where quite a hundred black tents were erected, and camels sheep, and
goats were browsing on the short grass. Veiled women and
scantily-clad children, raising a shout of welcome, ran to meet the
returning warriors, carrying with them pitchers of water and kayoubs
of dried dates and flour for their friends and relations.
Quickly the news spread. The Arabs will never acknowledge defeat to
their friends: the unbelievers had been routed and slain, or driven
into the sea. Not a Kafir remained betwixt the oasis and the great
salt waters, save these three who had been brought in as a proof of
the victory of the true followers of the Prophet. But the party could
not conceal the fact that their losses had been heavy, and so to the
shouts of joy were added the loud wailing and lamentation of the
wives and kinsfolk of those who had fallen.
Yet, in spite of the great victory that the Arabs had claimed, the
Sheikh Wadherim frequently directed his eyes towards the north, and
kept his ears on the alert for the sound of approaching musketry. His
camels, cattle, and sheep were gathered together; his goods and
chattels were packed in bundles; his tents were ready to be struck at
an instant's notice should occasion arise. At sunrise to-morrow, in
any case, the long march across the desert to Wadi Tlat would begin,
for the fierce Arab chieftain had fought--that being the main reason
why he had obeyed the loose Turkish authority, and had led his tribe
across the six hundred miles of desert. Now, having tasted of the
joys of battle, and paid dearly for it, there was nothing to prevent
him from returning to his desert haunts, where there was no fear of
aggression from the hated unbelievers.
Still bound, Reeves and the two lads were placed in the centre of the
encampment, with nothing to shelter them from the pitiless sun.
Behind them, with a business-like, broad-bladed spear held across his
shoulders, stood a tall, sinewy Arab.
"What will they do with us, Mr. Reeves?" asked Hugh, speaking with an
effort, and then only after he had rolled his swollen tongue over his
parched lips.
"Can't say. Hold us to ransom, most likely."
"It is hot, this sun," said Gerald.
"Tear my shirt sleeve off; it's nearly in rags already."
"Why?" asked young Kirby wonderingly.
"Never mind why. For one reason, I can't tear it myself."
Raising his bound wrists with an effort, while the correspondent
rolled over in the lad's direction, Gerald gripped the fragment of
thin flannel, and in another moment Reeves was without a sleeve, in
addition to a backless shirt.
"Give me the piece. That's it. Now, lean my way," and the
correspondent neatly placed the broad strip of flannel upon the lad's
head. "Save you from sunstroke, perhaps. Now, Hugh, you take a strip
from Gerald's shirt. It's in about the same first-class condition as
mine."
But before Hugh could perform his part of the task, the Arab touched
him on the shoulder with the haft of his spear, then spoke a few
words to one of the crowd who were enjoying the spectacle of the
captured Kafirs. The youth addressed evidently stood in awe of the
custodian of the prisoners, for his broad smile vanished, and turning
he ran swiftly towards the outskirts of the encampment.
In a few moments he returned with two broad leaves in his hand, which
he offered to the man who had ordered him to bring them. Speaking
rapidly, the latter commanded the youth to place them on the heads of
the two uncovered captives.
Arthur Reeves caught the meaning of the Arab's words, but kept the
news to himself. It was not pity that had prompted the man to act
thus. A slave whose head has been turned by the sun would be worse
than useless, for the Arabs, believing that a madman is under the
special protection of Allah, make sure that he is well cared for,
even though worthless from a commercial point of view.
So they were to be sold as slaves? If the worst came to the worst,
Reeves thought, there was a means of escape, and he brought his knees
together smartly. Yes, thank heavens! their savage captors had not
entirely stripped off the clothing of their prisoners; and bound in
the folds of his puttees was a small yet serviceable automatic
pistol, no thicker than a tobacco pouch, while behind his left knee
was a packet of fifty '22 cartridges, small, yet powerful enough to
drive completely through a man.
Suddenly a sharp but distant buzz smote upon his ear. Several of the
Arabs also heard the noise, and hundreds of dark-brown faces were
turned skywards.
[Illustration: THE APPROACH OF THE MONOPLANE]
With a painful effort the correspondent turned his head and looked.
At a good five hundred feet above the palm-tops a mono-plane was
passing swiftly in an easterly direction. Reeves could distinctly see
two men, one sitting behind the other. As for the Arabs, they were
too astonished even to utter a sound. The spectacle of a giant bird
with motionless wings bodily carrying off two men was too marvellous
for words.
Presently the monoplane tilted slightly, and changed its course in
the direction of the encampment. The lads gave a stifled exclamation
of joy, but the correspondent knew that a fresh danger was in store
for them.
"Lie down flat!" he exclaimed, throwing himself upon the ground.
Seeing the gigantic monster swooping towards them, the Arabs--men,
women, and children--took to flight. Even the spearman who was in
charge of the captives took to his heels and ran for the scanty
shelter of the palm trees.
"Stand by to run for it!" exclaimed Mr. Reeves. "But don't move till
I give the word."
The correspondent still kept his eyes fixed upon the rapidly
approaching monoplane. One of the men in it did exactly what Reeves
expected he would do--he leaned sideways and dropped a small bomb.
Five seconds later the missile struck the ground, and burst with a
deafening report, throwing showers of sand in all directions. Two of
the rearmost Arabs fell, and several of the sheep and cattle were
literally blown to atoms; but, although small pieces of iron and
plenty of sand swept over the prostrate captives, Reeves and the two
lads escaped unscathed.
"Now, run for it!" shouted the correspondent, for the monoplane was
skimming over the palm trees, its crew evidently thinking that one
bomb was enough.
Hampered though they were by their arms being tied by the camel rope,
the fugitives made good progress. Could they but gain the shelter of
that part of the oasis lying to the north of the camp, chances would
be in their favour, since the Arabs had taken refuge on the
southernmost side. But just as they were on the verge of the thick
scrub Hugh stumbled and, unable to break his fall, crashed heavily
upon the ground. This brought the others up, and as Mr. Reeves
stooped to help the lad, as well as the hampered condition of his
arms would allow, a loud shout told them that their flight had been
discovered.
Escape was now out of the question. Surrounded by twenty Arabs, whose
rage had been increased by the slaughter of much of their stock, and
who imagined that that was part of an attempt by the Italians to free
the three Kafirs, they were dragged back to the encampment, where
they were beaten and kicked till the two lads, who barely knew what
bodily pain was, were almost dead. As for Mr. Reeves, he took his
punishment gamely, knowing that any resistance or sign of fear would
make their captors take a keener zest in their work.
The attack upon the encampment made things worse for the three
prisoners, for the Arabs, finding that they were still within range
of their foes, immediately struck their tents, and before sunset the
diminished followers of the Sheikh Wadherim were on their way
southward to the distant oasis of Wadi Tlat.
It was with some semblance of military order that the caravan set
out. Twenty or thirty white-robed Arabs, armed with modern rifles,
led the way, perched in high-peaked and backed saddles upon the backs
of ambling and rolling camels. Next followed the cattle and sheep,
under the care of a body of men who--though Arabs by birth,
religion, manners, and customs--were undoubtedly of negro descent.
After them came the women and children, some seated on mules and
horses, some afoot, with a sprinkling of men armed with long
matchlocks as a bodyguard. Next more camels--not the swift hieries
of the warriors, but those commonly used as beasts of burden--each
with a large net-like sack slung on either side. Behind these came
the three prisoners, on foot, while a guard of about fifty half-naked
spearmen and flintlock-men brought up the rear.
Hugh and Gerald were already almost worn out by fatigue, pain, and
despair. They realized that every step was taking them farther and
farther from the sea, but whither they had no idea. Possibly it was
better for them to remain in ignorance. At least, so thought the
correspondent, who did his utmost to cheer his young companions,
although he himself was filled with vague fears. "Poor, pampered
youngsters!" he thought. "It's hard lines. But, if ever they get out
of this mess, it will be the making of them."
After the going down of the sun the burning heat lasted for about an
hour, while the sand was radiating; but soon the intense warmth gave
place to a chilling coldness, till the three captives, but partly
clad, shivered in the darkness. Yet at a steady pace of about three
miles an hour the caravan continued on its way, steering its course
by the stars. A distance equal to twenty-four English miles had to be
covered before the next of the long chain of oases could be reached,
and it was Sheikh Wadherim's intention to accomplish this part of the
journey ere dawn.
Reeves pondered deeply as he trudged painfully on his way. His
greatest anxiety was concerning his two young friends. What would
happen if they were to be separated? Had he been alone he would not
have hesitated to make a dash for freedom at the first opportunity.
The farther the Arabs were away from the sea, the more lax would
become their vigilance. A swift hierie, his automatic pistol, and
half an hour's start, and he would back himself against the whole
tribe. But with the lads this was not to be thought of. He was in
honour bound to keep by them as long as was humanly possible.
In any case, the correspondent made up his mind that he would give no
sign that he had a smattering of Arabic. A few unguarded words from
his savage captors would doubtless prove of immense benefit to him in
the future.
At about two in the morning a halt was called and a meal served out.
The captives were given a small quantity of water in a gourd, a
handful of maize, and a few dates--exactly the same as their
captors, save that their portion was considerably smaller. In a
quarter of an hour the sheikh gave the order to resume the march, and
after the enforced rest the agonies of their worn bodies made the
Englishmen wish that the halt had never been made.
"I say, Rags, isn't this fearful?" said Gerald in a low voice. "Only
fancy, last night we were sleeping in comfort on the floor of
Lieutenant Riefi's cabin. Now we----"
And, unable to complete his sentence, the lad manfully tried to
swallow a lump that would rise in his throat.
"I can't go on much farther, Rags," he continued, after a lengthy
pause. "My ankle's giving out."
"Lean on me if you can," replied Hugh; "I'm fairly fit." But even as
he spoke his knees momentarily gave way under him.
"What's that? Can't keep up?" asked Mr. Reeves. "Here, let me give
you a hand," and, adding to his difficulties by having to twist his
bound hands, the elder of the two gripped Hugh by the arm.
"What will happen if we can't keep up?" asked Hugh. "Will they kill
us?"
"I think not," replied the correspondent. "But don't talk about
giving up. These fellows will rest all day."
Just then Hugh stumbled again, this time on his knees. His companions
halted.
Out of the darkness sprang a gigantic Arab, and, using the octagonal
butt of his musket with no sparing hand, he prodded the unfortunate
lad with it till Mr. Reeves interposed his own body. Then the man
slung his piece across his back, and, grasping Hugh in his sinewy,
powerful grip, set him on his feet. But the lad, in spite of his
efforts to walk, fell once more.
Meanwhile the rest of the caravan, avoiding the halting group, was
passing by. Calling to one of his fellows, the Arab drew his knife--a
keen, two-edged weapon, with a short wooden handle. Even in the
starlight Reeves recognized the kind of knife; it was similar to
those the Arabs used to hamstring the chargers of the 21st Lancers at
Omdurman.
The blade glittered, flashed in the dull light, and sank--not in the
lad's back, but through the thong that bound his arms; then, lifting
Hugh like a sack, the man threw him into the high-pommelled saddle of
a horse that another Arab had brought up.
Hugh's two comrades were still attached to him by the camel rope, one
on either side; but this proved to be a blessing in disguise, as the
two footsore captives were able to aid themselves by the tension of
the cord.
Just before dawn the few trees that comprised the oasis of El Khor
loomed up against the paling stars. Suddenly the men at the head of
the column checked the camels, and brought their rifles to the ready.
Reeves could hear the metallic click of the bolts.
Then the tense silence was broken by a voice exclaiming in Arabic:
"Peace be between us!" to which Sheikh Wadherim replied: "There is
peace between us." Instantly the Arabs discharged their rifles in the
air, and urged their camels forward to mingle with the tribes already
in possession of the oasis.
Utterly worn out, Hugh was lifted from his horse, and the three
comrades in distress threw themselves upon the hard ground. In spite
of the cramped position of their arms--for Hugh was again
secured--they slept the sleep of utter exhaustion.
The correspondent was the first to awake. It was broad daylight, but
the sun was not yet high enough to cause discomfort.
Standing in front of the three English captives were the Sheikh
Wadherim and another Arab, evidently a person of importance.
"These, then, my brother, are the tokens of our victory over the
unbelieving dogs?" asked the stranger.
"Aye, thanks be to Allah and Mohammed his prophet. We drove them even
into the sea. Few escaped to tell the tale, and they were taken up by
the houses that float upon the deep."
"'Tis a pity, brother, that more were not brought hither," remarked
the stranger meditatively. "One, in truth, seems well able to do a
day's work at the salt pans. As for the others, they are beardless
boys. Are most of the men of the Kafir host thus?"
"Nevertheless, they are worth a good price, Abdullah. In a few moons
they will be as strong and as willing to toil as the white unbeliever
who was brought from the south. Take them at the price I ask----"
"Nay, Wadherim, I will have the man, and not the hairless youths. As
you say, they will fetch a good price at Tlat----"
"But----" The sheikhs moved on, still talking volubly. Reeves grasped
enough to know the meaning of their conversation, even though he had
the presence of mind to affect utter ignorance. He was to be
separated from his two young companions.