“_This is not the bishop’s square._”—ARABIC PROVERB.
Abdul removed the locust from his bowl, laid it on one side with three of
its brethren for future consumption, and looked at Ralph Trenchard, who
sat, eating his evening meal, some yards away. Then he wet his finger and
held it up, frowned, looked across the red sand ridges and over to the
scene of the disastrous battle, and shook his head.
“Bad!” he said, removing yet another locust from his shoulder. “Bad
locust, bad wind from the east, bad omen of death.” He spread his fingers
against the power of dead bones and, a victim of superstition, twisted
himself round from north to south as he sat. “All bad for the beginning
of a second journey into this bad desert.”
He placed an iron plate, spread with camel fat, to heat upon the top of
the up-to-date brazier, which was the joy of his life, spread a thin
layer of dough made of _durra_ upon it, and whilst waiting for it to
brown, prepared the five large, dark locusts for frying, praying inwardly
that his master would reject the succulent savoury.
“Five!” he commented, as he salted the insects and rolled them up in the
thin, buttered cake. “Praise be to Allah that we have one good omen.
_Aï!_ Six, nay, seven.” He plucked two more from his skirts, and, fearful
of finding the eighth, which would bring the ill-luck of an even number,
ran swiftly across to his master with his offering.
For two reasons Ralph Trenchard turned the savoury over with his fork. He
had just finished an excellently cooked meal of a highly spiced variety
of the ubiquitous _samh_ broth, and as highly spiced and as excellently
cooked partridge, and a handful of dates; also had he become extremely
suspicious of any fresh addition to the larder and of any new culinary
effort on the part of his servant.
He refused the crisp, well-browned roll at first, then, thinking it only
kind to reward the man for his devotion, bit off an end and finished the
lot.
“Topping, Abdul! I’ll have one every day. What’s it made of?”
Abdul hid his hands in his sleeves as he lied with the ease which comes
from long practice.
“Little bits of meat and fat and vegetables fried in butter, Excellency.
The servant is rewarded by the light of pleasure in his master’s eye.”
Ralph Trenchard rose and shook himself.
“We’d better be starting, Abdul,” he said, flicking a locust from his
sleeve. “The journey of a day and the journey of a night, that means the
journey of two nights as we cannot travel in the sun, and then—and then
I shall know, I shall be certain. And look here, my friend, don’t you go
cooking any of these disgusting beasts and serving them up as fried dates
or something.”
He plucked one of the disgusting beasts from his shirt sleeve and flung
it away, then looked at his servant, who stood motionless, a cloud of
despondency dimming the habitually merry countenance.
“Well? And what’s the matter now? Have the camels stampeded or the
water-skins burst?”
Abdul suddenly knelt and touched the ground with his forehead.
“Give ear unto thy servant, O master! Hasten not the journey, linger yet
one more night and yet one more day. The omens are not propitious for
the starting. We are surrounded by death, by the bones of our brethren.
The east blows the wind from her mouth and from the north comes a puff
of breath, so that the wind will blow slantwise towards the west and the
south.”
“Well? Why not? As long as it doesn’t blow straight from the south like a
furnace, I should say that we ought to be jolly well pleased.”
Abdul gathered three locusts from the ground, stored them surreptitiously
in his voluminous sleeve, and rose to his feet, then walked close up to
Ralph Trenchard, salaamed, and clasped his hands in fervent beseeching.
“These few disgusting beasts, O Excellency, are the forerunners, maybe,
of a great storm of many disgusting beasts, which in time of stress or
famine are thankfully eaten by the Arab and the camel. If the wind were
otherwise set, Excellency, if it were but the locust wind from the east
unto the west, then would I cry haste, haste, so that we should pass on
and leave the storm behind. But, Excellency, the puff of breath from the
north will cause the disgusting beasts to follow us even southwards, so
that we are like to drown in a sea of crawling, disgusting beasts, or to
flee before them into the heart of the bad desert, there to be fallen
upon by the evil spirits which dwell therein. Excellency, the omens are
bad. The locust is bad, the wind is bad, likewise the bones, and”—he
paused to allow the dread of the last and worst omen to sink thoroughly
into the white man’s mind—“and the servant’s camel has pulled the amulet
of good luck from about the neck of the master’s camel and”—followed
another pause for the same good purpose—“has eaten it!”
Ralph Trenchard laughed heartily, being one of the thrice blessed few who
are absolutely free from the faintest trace of superstition, the greatest
curse of modern days.
“Look here, Abdul.” He put his hand on the faithful man’s shoulder and
turned him in the direction of the south. “Not so very far ahead, in an
almost straight line from here, is the range of mountains in which the
woman Zarah dwells....” Abdul spat with vindictive vigour in a southward
direction. “That woman has knowledge of her Excellency, who is to be
my wife....” Abdul, remembering the holy man’s statement about her
Excellency’s health, spread his fingers westward in the direction of the
bones glistening on the battlefield. “And if you think locusts or bones
or amulet-eating camels can prevent me from starting when I said we would
start, and that is in an hour’s time, then are you thrice mistaken....”
Abdul pushed one of the disgusting beasts, afflicted with an inclination
to stray, back into his sleeve. “And I should advise you, my son, to
heave those thoughts out of your mind or you’ll have us wading up to our
necks in locusts, or the bones getting up and following us, or the camels
bursting from an overdose of good luck. Besides, remember your prophecy
about the holy man, who, you said, was a bad holy man. He hasn’t brought
us bad luck so far. You were mistaken, and you were, and you _are_,
afraid and....”
There was a limit to Abdul’s capacity for holding his tongue. He made
finger gestures towards the four quarters of the globe, then shook his
fist in the direction where lay the Bedouin camp which they had left
behind many days ago.
“Mistaken! O master! Mistaken! Why did the holy man run, run like the
ostrich, so that the marks of his holy feet showed hardly upon the soft
sand? Why did I, thy servant, find the footmarks of a camel far out in
the desert just where the feet of the holy man made no more marks upon
the sand?”
“I expect someone was waiting to give him a lift, Abdul.”
“Then why not lift him to the gate of the Bedouin camp, O my master?”
Ralph Trenchard took his servant by the shoulder and turned him in the
direction where lay the camels.
“I expect he didn’t want the others to know that he was living in the lap
of luxury, my son. Go and eat, because I am coming to overhaul everything
and see that all is shipshape before we start on the last bit of the
journey, at the end of which this uncertainty will be lifted from me.”
In spite of its pleasantry, Abdul recognized the one tone in his master’s
voice which always caused him to obey with alacrity.
He salaamed and departed to do his master’s bidding, gathering a good
sleeveful of locusts as he went, and sat, making finger gestures towards
the east and returning thanks to Allah for the tasty addition to the
meal, while the disgusting beasts browned nicely upon the iron plate
spread with camel fat.
But a few hours later he turned in his saddle, then raised his hands to
the heavens, which showed black as with thunder towards the east.
“May Allah burn them with the fire of His wrath! May His right hand crush
the life from them! May He speak words of anger so that they are swept
from the white man’s path.”
From his seat upon the first of seven camels he looked at Ralph
Trenchard, who rode at his side, and back along the six beasts which,
fastened muzzle to scrimpy tail by rope, had leisurely followed each
other up and down the great ridges, whilst the menacing cloud spread
rapidly across the sky.
Ralph Trenchard turned and looked back.
“I am sorry I have been the cause of your getting into this frightful
danger, Abdul,” he said quietly. “Still, I have been in tighter corners
than this and won out, so we won’t despair. You see, the swarm may pass
well over our heads as there is nothing green for it to settle on within
miles. Besides, if we had stayed where we were it would have been the
same thing. We haven’t got so very far from the camp. Still, I’m sorry,
and I....”
The rest of the sentence was jerked from him as his camel stumbled to its
knees, half rose, fell, and with an infuriated scream got to its feet
with the curious back jump exclusive to a fallen camel. They proceeded
in silence for almost a quarter of a mile, when there came a shout from
Abdul which was lost in a chorus of shrieks and groans and lamentations
from the string, as the middle camel crashed, pulling its brother behind
to its knees by the rope attached to its halter, and its sister in front
to a sitting position by the rope attached to her skimpy tail, until at
last the seven beasts sprawled upon the ground.
Ralph Trenchard followed Abdul’s pointing finger. Lost in his thoughts
and without looking at the ground over which he travelled, he had passed
up and down the ridges which were soon to end in a great flat space. He
looked down now, and shuddered at the sight. A thin layer of brown and
crawling locusts lay upon the sands as far as eye could see—a terrible,
living sheet of slipperiness upon which no biped or quadruped could
hope to remain upright for long. He did not hesitate. He shook out the
feet-long leather thong of the camel-whip and flicked the sides of the
nearest fallen camel, against which was already forming a drift of
locusts. And as the camel tried to rise he flicked the others, whilst
Abdul alternately shouted encouragement and prayed to Allah. And when at
last the beasts had been forced to their feet, to stand indifferent and
contemptuous, he took his camel slowly across to where Abdul sat upon
the leader and looked him in the face, whilst locusts, hurled by the
ever-increasing wind, rattled like hailstones upon his topee, and caught
and clung and crawled over his shirt and breeches and over his servant’s
robes.
“You must decide, Abdul,” he said quietly. “You belong to the desert.
You have seen a locust storm many times. Do we go forward or back, or
do we stay here and wait, praying that it will pass before we die of
suffocation?”
Abdul did not hesitate. Already the insects had covered the camels’ feet
and were clinging in bunches to their sides; already the camels were
moaning like children in pain, a sure sign that fear utterly possessed
them and that panic pressed them close.
“We will move forward. And will his Excellency fasten his shirt lest the
disgusting beasts crawl about his person. We are in the hands of Allah,
O my master, and we must follow the path marked out for us, even if it
be spread with a carpet of locusts. The heart of the storm has not yet
reached us. Kismet! it is the will of Allah. Forward, my master, for that
way the future always lies.”
Inch by inch, with the leather-thonged whip curling backwards and
forwards over the string, and Abdul alternately shouting encouragement,
praying to Allah, and calling upon the aid of the great Prophet, the
camels climbed the next ridge, which rose high above its fellows owing
to a mass of volcanic rock beneath it, whilst the locust cloud spread
across the heavens. With its forefeet just over the edge on the downward
steep descent, Ralph Trenchard’s camel slipped, threw him clear over its
head down to the bottom of the dip, then followed in a series of terrible
somersaults, to collapse at the bottom with a broken neck.
“Don’t get down, Abdul! For God’s sake, don’t get down!” shouted Ralph
Trenchard as he scrambled to his feet just as the seven in a string,
well back on their haunches, slid down safely to the bottom, the ridge
meanwhile growing higher and higher as the locusts piled upon it. “I’ll
cut you loose and take the second camel; it’s got two water-skins.
You’ve got to take one—we’ll fix it on somehow.” He hacked at the rope
which fastened Abdul’s camel to the second, then cut through the rope
connecting the second and third; unfastened the water-skins, pulled the
pack off the second camel, wrenched the saddle from the dead beast, and
handed it up to Abdul, who threw it across the other camel’s back.
“Jam the brute against the side, Abdul, I’m going underneath. Tight,
that’s it, don’t let it move. That’s it. Fling the off-strap further
over. My God! That’s it! I’ve done it. Keep him jammed, I’m getting the
water-skins on. Oh! my God! one’s burst; one of those fiends has driven
its teeth into it. Fasten this one to your saddle—d’you hear what I say?
fasten it—I’ve got my water-bottle and—you’ll get the whip across your
back if you don’t—I’m going to tighten the strap—jam him still, I’m
coming out—you can give me a leg up—I—my....” Abdul bent and hauled him
up as he crept from under the camel’s belly and almost threw him into the
saddle.
“Come! Master, come! hasten! The camels fight, they are mad with fear;
they kill all they see when mad. Nay, master, be not so mad thyself.
What matter if they be bound together? They are but camels, and thou, O
master, art a son of God! Turn thy camel, Excellency.”
But the camels would not turn. True, they backed in their fear of the
other five, which, fastened together, shrieked and fought, tore and
snarled, as they vainly tried to climb out of the dip in which the stream
of locusts was rising inch by inch; but get them round they could not,
however hard they pulled at their cast-iron mouths and struck them on the
off shoulder.
Then Abdul yelled and tore off his outer cloak, sitting breathless, in
voluminous drawers and vest, ready for the onslaught. The five camels,
hopelessly fastened together, had straightened themselves out. The first,
clean mad with fear, had seen two of its own kind standing quietly a
little way ahead. For a second it stood quite still, excepting for its
head, which swung from side to side, with great eyes rolling and long
tongue hanging from the foam-flecked mouth, then it shrieked, shrieked
as only a camel can, and charged, dragging the others, which rocked from
side to side. They slipped and fell, and scrambled to their feet under
the spur of the terrible teeth which met in the hindquarters and the
agony of the ropes which lashed muzzle and tail together.
The foremost saw the open space on the waiting camel’s off-side and made
for it, blindly, drew level with Abdul and swung its head viciously
sideways, to find itself enveloped in the man’s coat. Followed a
frightful scene, in which it stood quite still, lost in the darkness
which had suddenly overtaken it, whilst the other four rushed backwards
and forwards and swung themselves round until they jammed in a fighting
circle.
“Quick, master! Now! Follow! Allah protect thee in this corner of
_Jahamman_! Fear at last moves my Satan-possessed beast; may Allah cause
it to burn in the nethermost pit!” The faithful man leant over and
gripped the halter and wrenched Ralph Trenchard’s camel round as his own
turned. “We will go apace! We will....”
His words were lost in the screaming of the five camels, as the foremost,
freed of the cloak, suddenly charged up the side of the ridge. Up, up,
almost to the top, pulling its companions after it, up to the edge
where the locusts lay thick, then down, over and over, with its fellow
prisoners fighting, struggling, screaming, back to the bottom of the dip,
where ’tis wise to leave them to the mercy of Allah.
The two men urged their camels swiftly from the terrible sight, whilst
with a soft _phit-phit-phit_ the locusts fell upon each other with the
sound of raindrops upon glass. The sky was black with them; they swept
above their heads with the whistling sound of a tropical hail storm.
“We will stay here, master, if it be the will of Allah! We will throw
the disgusting beasts out as they fill in the space about us. Thou art
white and I am black, yet are we brothers in distress and in the sight of
Allah.”
Ralph Trenchard held out his hand, which Abdul just touched as he
salaamed.
But it was not the will of Allah that they should remain to die,
perhaps of suffocation, in the dip filled with locusts; it was His will,
perchance, that they should make a last fight for life, which is good
when filled with love, love of the woman, love of the master, love of the
brother and friend.
Abdul turned for one moment to secure the water-skins more firmly upon
his saddle, when his camel stampeded, rushing blindly ahead for no good
reason, as is the custom of the brutes. Followed by Ralph Trenchard’s, it
turned sharply and scrambled to the top of the ridge, where the men bent
double to save their faces from the driving locust rain.
“Master!”
Ralph Trenchard heard his servant’s voice as his camel turned and fled
along the top of the ridge until it was swallowed up in the locust storm.
“Abdul!” he called, covering his face with his arm. “God keep....” He
beat the insects off his shoulders, beat them off as they piled thickly
behind him on the saddle, paused for a moment in the ghastly work as a
faint “Allah!” came to him from somewhere out of the dark, then beat
at the horrible things which crawled all over him with a sickening
scratching of their scaly bodies. The camel, crazed with the things which
covered it as with a coat of mail, slid, shrieking, down the side of the
ridge and scrambled up the farther side, and down and up the next, and
yet the next. Ralph Trenchard, with his feet crossed round the pommel
of his saddle, bent his head to his knees and rode for mile after mile,
clutching the tufts of coarse hair upon the camel’s shoulder, whilst the
locusts piled up on his back and neck.
Why should he try to stop the camel? Why should he get down? Why should
he not go on and on for ever riding, riding through an endless desert
of swarming, crawling, creeping locusts, which stretched across the
heavens and the earth from north to south, from east to wrest? Was it
not the will of Allah? Was not ...? Up he went and down, hanging on to
the coarse hair just above the camel’s shoulders, up and down, and then
on and on, evenly, smoothly, whilst the locusts whistled like a tropical
hailstorm and the sky lighted way down in the east as the great curtain
of insects swept towards and away to the west.
And he went on and on, shuddering under the feeling of the locusts
crawling over him when they had long since taken flight, leaving him and
his camel free; on and on through the journey of the scorching day which
followed the journey of the night, and still onward in the way which
was to lead him to certain knowledge of the girl he loved; on and on,
with his head bent to his knees and his hands clutching the coarse hair,
mercifully unconscious at last.
On and on, until a range of mountains showed faintly in the far distance
and the sun went down behind it, just as, many miles away, two Arabs,
journeying towards the Oasis of Hareek, drew Abdul out from under his
dead camel and, finding that he breathed, straightened the broken leg
between improvised splints, and placed him gently upon the third camel,
which carried all their worldly belongings.