THE ROAD TO ROBAT
Mushki-chah--The native contractor--An evening rencontre--Idu
of the Chagai Levies--The native idea of an airship--Idu the
invaluable--Robat.
On the third day we made good progress, fate being kind in helping us
to avoid the sandy pitfalls which had hitherto been our undoing, and,
by nightfall, we found ourselves approaching the post of Mushki-chah.
Here we found the road blocked with a number of camel caravans
carrying Government food supplies for our scattered posts along the
frontier. These posts were already in difficulties owing to the
Raiders' interference with their commissariat.
As can be imagined there was a great deal of noise, the native
drivers gesticulating and talking in a way which proved that
something was afoot. I got out of the car and asked who was in charge
of the caravan. A huge native contractor was pointed out to me, and,
summoning him to my side I asked him what all the hubbub was about.
He was in a state of great agitation and told me that he had received
information from several reliable sources that the whole of the
countryside ahead of them was in the hands of the Raiders, and that,
therefore, it was useless to go a step further.
I expostulated with the man, pointing out that, by the terms of his
contract, he must go on, and that if he did not the soldiers for whom
he was bringing supplies would die of starvation.
But he was dogged. He knew too well the methods of the Raiders with
the men they captured.
"It's no use, Sahib," he said, respectfully but firmly. "My men will
not go on as they are unarmed, and a single armed Raider is enough to
hold up the whole caravan."
I knew the man was right, but persisted in my efforts to persuade him
to chance it, pointing out that he might be lucky enough to elude the
Raiders and to win through.
"If the Government will give me a military escort I will go, but not
without," was his final word.
I had no authority to compel him to go on, so gave up the struggle.
But I realised more than ever how imperative it was to endeavour
to reach Robat without a moment's unnecessary delay, and start
conclusions with the Raiders, whose menace was growing more dangerous
every day.
We were, therefore, on the road very early next morning, for I hoped
to make Saindak that night. I had intended to go by Borgar, but now
that I knew--for I had verified the contractor's statements, and
believed them to be correct--that that place was in the hands of
the Raiders, I elected to go by an alternative route, known as the
_Webb-Ware_ route, which is practically out of use nowadays, hoping,
thereby, to avoid the enemy.
It was still dark when we set off on the most strenuous part of our
journey; climbing, making détours, digging the car out again and
again till we were all three worn out in body and temper. We hardly
halted that day, for the necessity for speed was as fully realised by
Allan as by myself.
When night fell we had not yet sighted Saindak, but I knew we could
not be very far off, and cursed the coming of the night which made
it impossible to see where we were. I knew we had got off the camel
track somehow, for the ground was even more bumpy than it had been,
and was frequently intersected by nullahs or rocky ravines, which
made the going positively dangerous. If the car were knocked right
out of action our difficulties would reach the last stage of disaster.
At last, in despair, Allan stopped, saying it was useless going on
any further. We might overturn the car at any moment and smash it as
well as ourselves. He submitted that the only sane thing would be to
camp just where we were and wait for daylight, when we might regain
the camel track.
I knew he was right, but said I would make one final effort on foot
to find the track, and directed him to give me the hurricane lamp we
carried on the car.
Stumbling and slipping over the broken ground in the pitch darkness,
the lamp barely lighting up my immediate path, I had wandered some
distance from the car when I heard voices. Instantly I thought of the
Raiders who were over-running the district. It would be too galling,
too humiliating to be captured by them before the campaign, on which
I was building such high hopes, had even begun.
Noiselessly I put out the lamp and listened in the dense darkness.
There was absolute silence for some minutes, and I stood stock still.
Then voices sounded again, and I conjectured that there were not more
than two, or at the most three, speakers.
I thought rapidly, and finally decided that there would not be many
men in front of me. Had there been anything approaching an encampment
of the Raiders in the neighbourhood, there would have been lights,
camp fires and considerable noise. The voices I had heard probably
belonged to men who had seen the lights of the car, and had come to
find out what it was.
I turned swiftly and made my way back to the car, where I had
foolishly left my revolver. Recovering my weapon I warned Allan in a
whisper of the voices I had heard, and told him to be ready to stand
by. Then I made my way back in the darkness, and when I had regained
the spot, called out loudly, in Hindustani, "Who's there?"
Instantly a voice answered, "I am Idu of the Chagai Levies, friendly
to the British Government."
I then called out who I was, and, immediately, three fully armed men
came forward in the darkness.
I asked them what they were doing there, and the voice that had
answered me before replied that they were all three members of the
Chagai Levies, and that they, and about fifty others, had come out to
fight me.
"To fight me?" I exclaimed. "Whatever for?"
"Well, Sahib," returned the man who had said his name was Idu, "we
thought you were a German airship." And he went on to explain that
for a long time he and his companions had been watching powerful
lights floating about in the sky, and as they knew that Germans were
the only people in the world who had _hawaiijihaz_ or airships, they
were convinced the lights they had seen belonged to one of these. And
when it had alighted on the hill in front of them, the majority of
his companions had been so terrified that they had run away, and only
himself and his two comrades had had the bravery to stay where they
were and face the unknown danger.
Then it dawned on me what he was driving at. The flashing electric
lights of the car, lighting up the distant, rising slopes of the
desert, had appeared to these men to come from the sky, and my
harmless motor-car the dreaded German airship. Cars, of course, along
this route were as great a novelty as airships, and doubtless not one
of the men in front of me had ever seen one before.
I reassured them as completely as I could, adding that I was
delighted to meet such redoubtable warriors, and hoped that now they
would come with me and help me, as my business was to fight Germans,
airships and all. This was strictly true, for, but for German
influence, there would have been no need to wage war on the Raiders
who had only been induced to become our enemies by lying German
propaganda.
Idu said they would be only too glad to go with the Sahib and to help
him fight the enemies of the British Raj. He also told me that he had
already saved my life once that evening.
"How was that?" I asked, my spirits rising as I gazed through the
darkness at my first three recruits.
"Well, Sahib," returned Idu, "when the airship, which you say is
no airship, stopped, in a little while we saw the figure of a man,
carrying a lantern moving towards us, and Halil here," laying his
hand on the shoulder of one of his pals, "lifted his rifle and was
about to shoot. But I said, 'Nay. See, it is but one man. Let us wait
and see who he is.' And then the lantern went out and there was no
longer a target."
"You did well, Idu," I said solemnly. "You have most certainly saved
my life, and as you seem to be as intelligent as you are brave, I
shall appoint you to my personal staff. I am the officer who has
been sent out to take command of the forces along the Sarhad, and in
Seistan. But at the present moment my chief concern is to find the
right road to Saindak. Can you show it to me?"
Idu laughed. "I could lead you there blindfold, Sahib."
I felt the difficulties of the road were now over, and, piloted by
these three stalwarts, the car--a source of the utmost excitement
and wonderment to them--Allan, Allah-dad and my weary self were, ere
long, safe in the rest-house of the small mud fort at Saindak.
The following morning, after a good night's rest, I had a long talk
with Idu, and the very favourable impression I had formed of the man
the night before was greatly increased. I found him by daylight to be
a highly intelligent-looking, splendidly proportioned fellow of about
five feet eight, with a big black beard. I had glimpses, even then,
of the keen sense of humour which was to do so much to lighten the
difficulties of the ensuing campaign. Never once in all the months to
come did I find his wit and humour fail.
As after-events proved he was absolutely invaluable. In fact, I often
called him, and told him that I called him, my "head." Not only did
he know every yard of the country, but he knew by name practically
every one of the Raiders, knew their peculiarities and their weak
points as well as their strength. Idu was a man in a million, and I
should like to think that, some day, this public appreciation of him,
and of what he did to help in this campaign, may reach him.
After breakfast and my talk with Idu, we set out on the last march of
the first phase of my journey, and reached Robat by two o'clock in
the afternoon.