CHAPTER I.

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THE TREASURE OF THE TIGRIS

A TALE OF MESOPOTAMIA

BY LIEUT.-COLONEL A. F. MOCKLER-FERRYMAN

AUTHOR OF "LIFE STORY OF A TIGER"

"HEMMED IN" ETC.

WITH EIGHT FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS

IN COLOUR BY ALLAN STEWART

A. & C. BLACK LTD.

4, 5 & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.1

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

_First published in 1908_

[Illustration: "I BALANCED IT EXACTLY, AND SLOWLY AND STEADILY DREW IT

UP"]

CONTENTS

I. INSTRUCTIONS

II. ACROSS MESOPOTAMIA

III. INTO THE DESERT

IV. GUESTS OF THE AENIZA

V. RAIDERS

VI. THE SHEIK'S STORY

VII. THE FIRE OF THE GODS

VIII. RASPUL, THE SEER

IX. IN THE TEMPLE OF SOPHANA

X. A DASH FOR FREEDOM

XI. ONLY HALF A CAPTURE

XII. RIVAL DOCTORS

XIII. WAR'S ALARM

XIV. THE BURST OF THE STORM

XV. FATE

XVI. RESCUE

XVII. THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT

XVIII. TRUE FRIENDSHIP

XIX. IN CLOVER

XX. RE-UNION

XXI. A DESPERATE PLUNGE

XXII. BROTHERS AND CONSPIRATORS

XXIII. DAUD'S ADVENTURES

XXIV. THE DEVIL'S WELL

XXV. FOR DEAR LIFE

XXVI. A HAVEN OF REST

XXVII. VISITORS

XXVIII. MYSTERIES, SOLVED AND UNSOLVED

XXIX. A PROPHECY FULFILLED

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR

BY ALLAN STEWART

"I BALANCED IT EXACTLY, AND SLOWLY AND STEADILY DREW IT UP!"

"THAT THIS WAS THE SHEIK HIMSELF WE INSTANTLY REALISED"

"HE PROSTRATED HIMSELF BEFORE THE GODDESS, AND BESOUGHT HER TO GIVE HEAT

TO THE FIRE"

"'BY THE WILL OF ALLAH,' HE SAID, 'THE CHILD IS SICK'"

"WHEN NEXT I AWOKE, EDWARDS WAS SITTING BY MY SIDE"

"DAYLIGHT SHOWED US, IN THE FAR DISTANCE, THE MOUND OF THE BIRS NIMROUD"

"WE COULD SEE BELOW US ... THE FIGURE OF A MAN LYING ACROSS THE GUNWALE"

"THE TWO OF THEM AS PROUD AS PEACOCKS"

THE TREASURE OF THE TIGRIS

CHAPTER I.

INSTRUCTIONS.

First of all, I must explain how it happened that I, Walter Henderson,

whom, I have every reason to believe, my masters regarded as a very

ordinary kind of boy, should have blossomed within a couple of years of

leaving school into a person of some importance. I say this with all

modesty, though my enemies will doubtless cast it in my teeth that no

modest man would write a book about himself.

On events which prevented my getting a commission in the Army, after

nearly having completed my course at Sandhurst, I do not propose to

dwell. At the time I considered the whole affair to be an error of

judgment, though my father ascribed it to lack of brains and too much

cricket. Be all that as it may, the fact remains that before I was

twenty, all my military ambition had been nipped in the bud, and I was

incarcerated in the back premises of that imposing but dreary-looking

old building, the British Museum. My uncle, Professor Ambrose Wentworth,

had taken compassion on me, and had appointed me his private secretary,

at a nominal salary. It was not at all the sort of life that I had

mapped out for myself, as I had fully made up my mind to be a soldier,

as most of my ancestors had been; and, as a matter of fact, had it not

been for my mother's entreaties, I should have enlisted directly I left

Sandhurst.

My uncle's particular line was Babylonian history, and probably no

living man knew more about history tablets, cylinder seals, and such

like things, than did he. As was, perhaps, only natural in a man whose

whole existence was wrapped up in deciphering cuneiform inscriptions and

hieroglyphics, he wrote an almost illegible hand, and it was my duty to

make fair copies of all his letters and documents--a task which I found

not only most uncongenial but also decidedly difficult. However, I did

my best, and my uncle was always kind and considerate; but I could see

that he was disappointed that he had been unable, at the end of a year,

to make me enthusiastic in the matter of his hobby. At last came the day

when I really thought that I could stand the life no longer. It was

towards the end of November; we had had a fortnight of dreary fogs and

drizzling rain, during which time I had worked by artificial light

continuously, and as I took my seat at my desk I made up my mind that

this day should be my last at the British Museum. Whether my uncle

observed my dejection, or whether his archaeological researches had

produced in him the faculty of seeing through a brick wall, I cannot

say, but when he entered the room in which I was at work, he came up to

me and laid his hand gently on my shoulder.

"Walter, my boy," he said, "you don't like this sedentary life, I can

see."

"It is the weather, uncle," said I. "I think it has got on my nerves."

"Well," said my uncle, "I have been meaning to speak to you for some

time. You have stuck to your uninteresting work for months without a

murmur, and you have proved to me that you have plenty of grit. I can

now offer you a change. Mr Jenkins and I have been talking matters

over, and we want someone to go to Babylon for us. We have come to the

end of our arm-chair researches, and we can do nothing more without a

man on the spot. If you like to undertake to study hard for six months,

we will send you out on a voyage of discovery for us. You will have to

make up your mind to real hard work, but I promise you that you will

have a thoroughly interesting trip, and will see a good deal of the

world. I will tell you plainly what you will have to do. In the first

place, you must be able to read cuneiform inscriptions and translate

them readily; secondly, you will have to learn a certain amount of

Arabic, so as to be able to converse with the natives; and lastly, you

will be required to go on an expedition to Babylon by yourself, and

follow up the work that Layard and others commenced. You can think it

over for twenty-four hours, and let me know whether you will undertake

it, or whether we shall have to look out for someone else."

I need, perhaps, hardly say that, as I was only too keen to travel, I

accepted the offer, and I began my six months' course of instruction

forthwith. It was hard work, as my uncle had foretold, and nearly nine

months passed before I was considered fit to start on my voyage of

discovery. But, at the end of that time, my study had resulted in making

quite an enthusiast of me, and I was most eager to get away to the land

which had already given to the world so many historical treasures.

Then arrived the eventful evening when I was to receive my final

instructions, and I was closeted with my uncle and Mr Jenkins for

several hours, listening to the great scheme that I was intended to

attempt to carry through. Up till then I had had no inkling that my trip

was to be anything more than an ordinary digging undertaking, in the

hope of finding something new; but when I entered my uncle's sanctum, I

soon saw that he and his assistant had something important to discuss

with me.

"Well, Walter," my uncle began, "the time has come at last; you are off

to-morrow, and now we are going to tell you the great secret that is

known only to Mr Jenkins and myself. If either of us were young enough

to undertake the work, you may be sure that we should not have let you

do it. But it wants a young and an energetic man to carry it through,

and that is why we have gone to the trouble of training you. What we are

going to disclose to you is absolutely in confidence; you must reveal it

to no one; for, as you will see, on the keeping of the secret depends

the whole success of your expedition."

My uncle now unlocked a safe, from which he took a tin despatch-box.

Then, unfastening a bundle of papers, he began:--

"THE GIRDLE OF SOPHANA, THE GREAT QUEEN. That is what we want you to

find. It exists, or it did a few years ago, beyond a doubt. If you can

discover it and bring it to England, you will be a made man. If you

fail, we shall not blame you. But I will tell you what we know about it.

Mr Jenkins and I have devoted years to the matter, and, from what we

have been able to gather from scraps of information, collected from

history tablets and other sources, we know that Queen Sophana was

possessed of a girdle of solid gold. Exactly what it was like we do not

know, though several life-like snakes are said to have been embossed

upon it, and it was supposed to have been possessed of certain magic

properties. We have not much to go upon, but we will not keep anything

from you, and you shall hear how we have put two and two together. In

the first place, the ancient representations, on cylinder seals and such

like things, of the queen, always show the girdle or belt round her

waist; secondly, the old writers, in describing the queen, frequently

refer to the magic belt; thirdly, on a fragment of a history tablet we

have found clear evidence that, on the death of the queen, her favourite

handmaiden dressed her mistress in pure white clothes and carefully

fastened on the girdle before the corpse was laid in the coffin of baked

clay.

"Then there are several other tablets on which mention is made of the

girdle; and we have copies of all these things ready for you to take

with you. But we should never have thought of trying to unearth this

treasure, had it not been for information of a much more recent date

that has come to us. Barely sixty years ago, some members of an Arab

tribe ransacking the ruins of Babylon, found, bricked up in a solid wall

many feet underground, a substantial tomb; inside the tomb were several

coffins, and within one of these, encircling a shrivelled corpse, lay a

belt of golden snakes--massive and of great weight. Now comes the

difficulty; for, according to the story which the Arabs relate, the

finders of the treasure, from the moment that they took possession of

it, suffered every species of calamity. But of all this you must read in

the manuscripts which we are handing over to you; it is too long a story

to go into now, and I need only tell you the end. The golden girdle was

eventually buried in the place where it had been found, by the sole

survivor of a family of the Shammar tribe, in whose possession it had

been for some years; and, in order that no one should notice that the

ground had recently been turned over, the man obliterated all trace of

his work by setting fire to the scrub jungle far and wide. Lastly, we

have the climax; the Arab committed suicide on the bank of the

Euphrates, by falling on the point of his broken spear.

"What you have to do is to endeavour to find out the spot where the man

buried the girdle; dig it up, and bring it home. Mr Jenkins and I have

written down our views as to how we think this can best be done; but you

must consider what we have written as mere suggestions, and you must be

guided by circumstances. We do not pretend to be anything more than

students and theorists; and, unhappily, such men as Layard and

Rawlinson, who could have helped us, have long since passed away. In

reading through your papers, you will, of course, come across a deal of

Eastern superstition; but I think that you are matter-of-fact enough to

pay no attention to the supposed magical properties of the girdle, or

any nonsense of that kind."

The remainder of the conversation it is unnecessary to give. I received

lengthy instructions as to the voyage, as to secrecy, and as to more

commonplace matters of business--how I was to draw money for my

expenses, and so forth. No detail had been forgotten by my uncle and his

assistant, who, I discovered, were staking their reputations on the

success of my quest.

I was handed a despatch-box containing, as I was told, all papers

bearing on the object of my journey; and then, like many another, I,

Walter Henderson, buoyed up with hope and puffed up with pride, left the

Museum under the impression that I was fairly on the road to fame.

The Treasure of the Tigris: A Tale of Mesopotamia · 第 1 / 29 章