A DESPERATE PLUNGE.
Whilst I was living in Baghdad, I used to amuse myself by a daily visit
to the bazaar, overhauling the _antikas_ and other wares of the Jew
dealers, and to save myself the unpleasantness of being mobbed by a
crowd of Arab boys, on these occasions I dressed in simple Persian
garments. The shop people, of course, knew who I was, but I mingled with
the crowd without attracting attention. On the particular day of which I
am writing, I noticed, as I walked about the bazaar, that I was being
followed from place to place by a ruffianly-looking Arab, who, whenever
I stopped to look at a stall, always seemed to be at my elbow. I began
to be a little nervous about him, thinking that possibly he might be a
fanatic, who, having returned from a pilgrimage to the Holy Shrines, and
having discovered that I was an unbeliever, thought to ensure his entry
into Paradise by putting a knife into me. At last I stopped, turned on
him suddenly, and asked him what he wanted. He was so taken aback, that
without offering a reply, he bolted into the crowd, and disappeared.
A little later I left the bazaar, and strolled along the narrow lanes
towards Edwards's house. As I was nearing home, I heard footsteps
behind, and glancing over my shoulder, saw that my supposed Arab fanatic
was running after me. Thinking that I should have to fight, and seeing
nobody else about, I stepped back against the wall, and prepared to
make the best use of my heavy stick.
"Master," said the man, as he drew near, "it is you who were with Sheik
Faris in the desert; is it not so?"
"Yes," I replied, "I am that man. Why do you follow me about?"
"I was told," said he, "that you would be in the bazaar, but I could not
be certain that I had found you. I did not recognise you with the hair
absent from your face, and in those clothes."
"But why are you so anxious to find me?" I asked.
"I have come," said the Arab, "from Sheik Faris, who bade me seek you
out with all haste, and tell you, in secret, certain words."
"What were they?" I inquired, excitedly.
"I know not their meaning," he replied, "but the words Sheik Faris spoke
to me were these: 'Go tell the Hakim's friend that _snakes which do
poison mankind cower before the eye of the magician; that winged snakes
drop their wings at the sound of his coming; and that the shoe of a
desert-born mare must needs have a desert home_.' Thus spoke Sheik
Faris-ibn-Feyzul; I have said it."
I knew what it all meant. This was the message which I had eagerly
awaited for many weeks. Faris, brave Faris, had secured the Golden
Girdle for me, but he evidently intended that I should go and get it. I
wondered why he had not sent it. It would, I thought, have simplified
matters considerably.
"Sheik Faris," I asked, "sent, by you, nothing for me?"
"No," answered the man.
"Did he not give you any other message?" I inquired.
"I was to tell the Beg," said he, "that when the moon rises to-night,
three Aeniza, with a spare horse, will be on the western bank of the
river, opposite the great ruins of Ctesiphon, and will there await you
until daybreak to-morrow. The howl of the hyaena repeated three times
will cause them to make known their presence."
"It is well," said I, and giving the Arab a keran to spend in the
bazaar, I dismissed him.
Hurrying home as fast as I was able, with steps as light as air, I
bounded up the stairs to break the news to Edwards. He was out, and on
the table I found a note addressed to me. I tore it open, and read the
hasty pencil scrawl, which ran as follows:--
DEAR WALTER,--
Just had a message from the C.-G., saying he is very ill at Mosul.
Has sent the launch down for me. Do not expect me back for at least
a week. If I am detained longer, I will drop you a line. Mind you
do not start for home before I come back. So long,
Yours
G. E.
* * * * *
Calling a servant, I asked when his master had left, and was told that
the launch had gone up the river about an hour before. Utterly knocked
out of time by this unexpected turn of events, I sank into a chair, and
endeavoured to think out the situation. Something had to be done, and
done quickly. Nothing should prevent my reaching the rendezvous opposite
Ctesiphon that night. On that point I was determined. I would get the
Golden Girdle without saying anything to anyone, and with luck I might
be able to lay it in front of Edwards on his return from up-river. What
a grand surprise it would be for him, and how I should crow over him!
After all, it was rather a good thing, I thought, that both Edwards and
the Consul-General were away from Baghdad; otherwise they might have
interfered with my movements. I was, at anyrate, free to do as I
pleased. But how I was to cover the fifty miles to the spot where I was
to meet the Aeniza I could not decide. It was already two o'clock; I had
about four hours of daylight I could order my horse and say I was going
for an afternoon ride, then make straight for Ctesiphon. It was a long
journey to accomplish on one horse in four hours, and I had never
followed the road before. If I did not succeed in reaching the ruins
before dark, I doubted if I should ever reach them, and even if I
succeeded, I still had to cross to the opposite bank of the river. I
should have to swim it--there was no other means of crossing. I did not
like the idea. Then I thought I would cross the river by the Baghdad
bridge, and try to find my way to the appointed place by following the
right bank of the river. That, however, I abandoned as hopeless, for I
was acquainted with no road on that side of the river. My next idea was
to hire a _kufa_, and paddle away down stream. It would not be a very
great undertaking, as I could certainly cover six or eight miles an hour
by simply drifting, which would bring me to my destination well before
break of day. There was only one thing against this plan: I was not at
all sure that, being at such a little height above the water-level, I
should be able to identify landmarks. There would be a good moon, I
knew, and I had been to Ctesiphon by water once or twice from Baghdad.
It was a risky undertaking, but I did not see what else I could do. All
at once a sudden inspiration came to me. I leapt from my chair, rushed
across the room, and hunted among my papers for the river steamer
time-table. At last I found it, and, as I had hoped, discovered that
this was the day that one of the steamers left Baghdad for Bussorah.
Nervously I ran my finger along the line to learn the hour of departure,
and when my eyes fell on the announcement "4 P.M.," I could have shouted
for joy.
I had a couple of hours to make arrangements, though there were few to
make. Still, certain matters had to be worked out. In the first place, I
had qualms of conscience about going off without telling anyone, and I
began to think that I had better take Dimitri, the dragoman, into my
confidence. But I was afraid to trust him, as I thought that perhaps he
would consider it his duty to frustrate my plan. Then I could not make
up my mind whether to disguise myself as a native, and take a deck
passage; or whether to go on board with a bag, and book first-class to
Bussorah. My difficulty was that the captain of the steamer was a
well-known member of the small English community in Baghdad, and a
personal friend of mine. In either case, whether I shipped as a native
or as myself, I should have to slip overboard when approaching
Ctesiphon, and swim ashore, and in either case I should have to deceive
my friend the captain. I hated the idea; but I came to the conclusion
that, as a desperate man, I must bury my conscience for the time being.
To fail now would probably be to throw away the opportunity of a
lifetime. I would tell as few lies as possible, and trust that some day
I might be able to make reparation for my evil doings.
My plan matured, I immediately set to work to collect a few odds and
ends to fill my bag, fastened it up, called my boy, and sent him down to
the steamer with it, at the same time giving him a note for the purser,
in which I asked for a cabin to Bussorah. Having taken the first step, I
felt easier in my mind, and telling Edwards's servants that I was going
for a trip down the river, and should be away for a few days, I strolled
leisurely down to the wharf, and went on board the steamer. From that
moment I forgot my conscience altogether. I told the captain that, as
Edwards had been called away to Mosul, and as I did not care about my
own society, I had decided to spend the time in running down to
Bussorah. He expressed himself as delighted to have my company, and I
settled myself in my cabin, as if I really intended to remain on board
for three or four days. We were a little late in getting off, but I knew
that an hour or two would not affect my plans, as, even steaming in the
dark, we ought to be off Ctesiphon within six hours or so of our
departure from the city.
There being no other first-class passengers, I dined alone with the
captain, and, aware that it might be my last respectable meal for some
days, I made the most of it, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Afterwards,
we sat long on the upper deck, outside the captain's cabin, discussing
many things, and watching the reflections of the bright moon in the
river. I began to grow anxious about the time, and a little nervous
about the part I was shortly to play. I was a strong swimmer, but even
with that knowledge I did not relish the prospect of plunging overboard
and making for the shore. I confess that it required every scrap of
courage that I possessed, and for a moment my courage almost failed me.
"You are very silent," said the captain, after a long pause in the
conversation, "are you getting sleepy?"
"I suppose I must be," I replied. "I expect it is about time to turn in.
Whereabouts are we?"
"Getting near Ctesiphon," he answered. "We ought to pass it in about
half an hour. I must get on to the bridge, as we are coming to rather a
tricky bit of channel."
"Then I shall retire to my cabin," said I. We wished each other
"Good-night," and I went down the companion to the lower deck. I had
previously inspected the situation of everything most carefully. The
first-class accommodation was in the stern of the steamer; the saloon in
the centre, cabins on either side of the saloon, with a narrow gangway
between the cabin doors and the taffrail. My cabin was on the starboard
side, and I had only to walk out of the door, take one step, vault the
taffrail, and so into the river. In the daylight it seemed quite simple,
but now, as the time for action was at hand, I had many misgivings. The
steamer had twin screws, and I was afraid that, if I dropped over the
side, I should be caught by the screw before I managed to get clear
away. I hastened to the stern of the vessel, and examined the water
carefully. The screws churned it horribly. Still, I thought that my
best chance would be here, as by stepping out on to the anchor, which
lay on the extremity of deck, and then diving well away, I might succeed
in finding my way into slack water. There was no one about; the captain
and the steersman were both on the bridge, and would, of course, be
intent on looking ahead. The time was slipping by, and I ran up the
companion to get a better view of the country from the upper deck. I
thought I recognised the beginning of the bend in the river close to
Ctesiphon. I had forgotten about this bend, but now I knew that it would
be all in my favour. Certain now of our whereabouts, I dropped down to
the lower deck, and made for the anchor. We were well in the bend and
only a few yards from the right bank of the river; moreover, the
starboard screw was barely revolving. Now or never, I thought, and
clenching my teeth, I stretched out my hands, and made a frantic dive in
the direction of the land. So close was the steamer to the bank at the
moment I left it, that in half a dozen strokes I found my feet touching
bottom, and I was soon lying among the bushes, and watching the steamer
continuing its way round the bend.
I took some minutes to pull myself together; in fact, I sat there
looking after the disappearing vessel, until I could see nothing but the
smoke rising up from the funnel. Then my nerves began to trouble me. My
teeth chattered, and I shivered and shook as if I had a violent attack
of ague. I could not make up my mind to move, and I wondered whether I
had not made an arrant fool of myself. I had met a perfect stranger in
the bazaar, and had come here by his instructions. It was true, that if
the man were an impostor, desiring to lure me to this spot with the
object of robbing and possibly murdering me, he had worked up his plan
with great skill; and I did not think that anyone could have invented
the message from Faris. Yet, I did not feel altogether happy about it.
Then I thought of what an amount of bother I should give to the captain
of the steamer. My absence probably would not be discovered until
breakfast time next morning, when, of course, it would be thought that I
had fallen overboard accidentally, or had committed suicide. However, I
argued with myself that, having taken the fatal plunge, it was useless
sitting shivering by the side of the river in a state of inaction; so I
got up and struggled through the scrub towards higher ground, eventually
reaching a low mound. Here I crouched down, and putting both hands to my
mouth, as I had once seen Sheik Faris do, I gave forth a long piercing
hyaena call. The whole thing seemed so uncanny, that I shuddered at my
own voice. I repeated the howl again, and after a slight interval yet
again.
I listened intently, and thought that I heard an answering call in the
far distance. Presently there came the unmistakable cry a little nearer,
and, before many seconds had passed, dismal howls appeared to echo all
around me. In my excitement I stood up and shouted, and almost at the
same time I noticed that there were men and horses quite close to me.
"Where are you?" called out one of the men in Arabic.
"Here, on the hillock in front of you," I replied.
I waited a little, while one of the men picked his way towards me; and,
as he drew near, I called to him, asking if he had come from Sheik
Faris. The only reply that I received was a joyous laugh, and the next
moment Sedjur stood by my side. That meeting, so unexpected, was well
worth all the trouble that it had cost. Life was full of roses once
again, and we stood there talking for, I should think, a good half hour.
He could not understand how I had come, as he had expected that I would
have ridden from Baghdad, and when I told him what I had done, his
admiration knew no bounds.
"It is good that you arrived so early," said he, at last, "for we can
now get well on our journey before daylight comes. I have brought some
of our desert clothes for you to wear, as you have done before; and my
father has sent you one of Kushki's own sons for you to ride."
I thanked him for forgetting nothing; flung my bundle of saturated
clothes across my saddle, mounted my horse, and, a true Bedouin in
appearance, followed close behind the three long, waving spears. The
smell of the desert, after my sojourn in the town, was good indeed; and,
though I had had no sleep, and ought to have been dead tired, I felt
fresh, and fit for any exertion. I had, of course, asked Sedjur for news
of the Golden Girdle, but all that he would say was that his father did
not wish the matter discussed until he had seen me; and Sedjur begged
that I would not speak about it until we reached the camp. Thus, to my
disappointment, I was left, throughout our long ride, in ignorance of
the state of affairs.
As far as I could judge by the stars, from our starting-point we rode
north-west, scarcely ever deviating from our course during that night;
and, crossing the pilgrim route from Baghdad to Kerbela some time before
there was any sign of dawn, struck the Euphrates, as Sedjur told me,
thirty miles or more above the latter town. After fording the river, we
kept along the right bank for the remainder of the day, at nightfall
halting at a small village, whose inhabitants were old friends of our
party, and who did their best to make us comfortable. My prompt answer
to his father's summons had evidently made a great impression on Sedjur,
who confessed to me, when we talked that night, that he never expected
me to come; that, in fact, he had tried to dissuade Faris from sending
him on what he considered would be a fruitless mission.
"How much farther have we to go?" I asked.
"When two more suns have set," said Sedjur, "we should be near the
encampment. We shall get on to the Damascus road early to-morrow, and
then there will be little difficulty."
"That is good news," said I, "for, as you are aware, I cannot ride long
distances for many days together."
"If I were to tell you," laughed Sedjur, "that we were to ride day and
night all the way to Damascus, you would not complain. You forget that
you have lived in our tents, and that my father and I know you perhaps
better than you know yourself."
It was pleasant to think that my friends had such a high opinion of me,
though I hoped that they would not try me too severely. I did not mind a
long day in the saddle, if it were all straightforward going, but our
ride of this day and of the two following days was a perpetual anxiety.
There were only four of us, and we had to be continuously on the
look-out for prowling bands of hostile tribes. Fighting was out of the
question; all that we could do was to avoid everyone whom we saw, and to
trust to the speed of our horses, if pursued. But we were particularly
fortunate, for only once were we really troubled, and then, though
followed for some distance, we showed our pursuers that their horses
were no match for ours. Still, always having to be on the _qui vive_,
like driving a shying horse, is most tiring work; and I was glad enough
when, soon after daylight on the fourth day, Sedjur suddenly shouted to
me, "Behold our tents!"