The ferry-boat, "Rappahannock," had an experience in the winter of 1873
that will never be forgotten by any of her passengers.
During one of her regular trips between New York and Brooklyn this boat
suddenly quitted her respectable, though somewhat monotonous, career,
and became a common tramp, without port or destination.
The day awoke in fog such as the oldest inhabitant had never seen. The
East River was blocked with ice and soon became a shrieking bedlam of
groping and bewildering craft, whose pilots could scarcely see their
hands before their faces.
At half past nine the "Rappahannock" left Brooklyn, well laden with
passengers, and started on her customary trip almost directly across
the river—a very short and unusually easy voyage. Before even reaching
the middle of the stream, however, the ice and fog had thrown her
completely out of her course. Back and forth, up and down stream, the
pilot vainly groped, amid the shrieking whistles, ringing of fog bells,
and loud crash of ice boulders, until, in the confused clangor, he had
entirely lost his bearings.
When, after long and perilous battling with ice jams and many
hair-breadth escapes from collisions, he suddenly sighted the landing
place on the New York side, he found it occupied by a sister boat,
which had been driven there to avoid destruction. He backed out, only
to be lost again, and for three hours this boat, now become a mere
tramp, wandered aimlessly up and down the East River with its load of
excited passengers, whose emotions ranged anywhere between the rage
and impatience of the belated Wall Street speculator, to whom the
delay might mean a loss of fifty thousand dollars, to the hysteria of
a nervous little woman who had left her baby alone at home, and who
begged the other helpless passengers for the love of heaven to help her
set her feet once more on land.
Between these two extremes of impatience and excitement was a small
proportion of passengers who remained calm, even endeavoring to while
away the time by exchanging pleasantries and making wagers as to the
time of their deliverance. Among these was a group of men in the cabin
who, after having read and re-read the morning papers, were casting
about for some other method of killing time. One suggested a game of
cards.
"Cards!" laughed one of his companions in misery. "Who'd carry cards on
a ferry-boat? Who, outside of a lunatic asylum, would start on a ten
minutes' voyage provided with games to pass away the time?"
"Here is a euchre deck which is at your service."
The speaker, evidently a globe-trotter, drew from under the bench
a traveling-bag, so much worn and embellished by tags, labels, and
hieroglyphics that it resembled some old veteran just returned from the
wars and still covered with surgeons' plasters. From this he produced a
pack of cards and tendered it to the man who had suggested a game.
"Certainly, if you will join us; but what shall we do for a table?"
"Here is a camp-stool," said the man of the world. And in a moment four
men were sitting around it, cutting for deal, which chanced to fall to
the stranger.
The cards were distributed rapidly, and the dealer was about to turn
the trump when a loud shriek pierced the air and a woman opposite
suddenly sank fainting to the floor.
The tension among the passengers had become so great that a panic
seemed imminent.
"Don't be alarmed, gentlemen; it is nothing serious," said the dealer
calmly. "The lady simply caught sight of her own frightened face in the
mirror, and the shock caused her to faint. It reminds me of a thrilling
experience an American traveler had while bumping through Syria. But,
pardon me, the game!"
Once more he made a movement to turn the trump, when one of the party
exclaimed:—
"There can't be a better time or place than this for telling a
thrilling experience."
"Yes," said another; "do give us some other kind of bumping than we are
having here. Let's have the story before we begin the game."
The stranger leaned back, passed his cigar case, and, having lighted a
weed himself, began:—
"It is an unwritten law among the wild Bedouins east of the Red Sea
that if an infidel traveler is attended on his journey by one of the
faithful he is safe from the attacks of Mohammedan robbers. As long
as the 'Frank,' as all foreigners are called, is under the protection
of the Star and Crescent, the rascal's hand is stayed, and as they
meet, the villain, who would otherwise show no quarter, salutes with
the grave suavity of a courtier. But let that same traveler become
separated from the Arab guard that he has bribed to give him safe
conduct through his own bandit-infested country, and he becomes
legitimate prey. He will be plundered and perhaps killed, or, worse,
if the robber thinks that cruelty will extort any secrets of hidden
spoil, tortured or held for ransom, with each day's delay losing a few
fingers, which are forwarded to the captive's friends to signify that
the rascals mean business.
"The party in which this American was traveling had been entering Syria
from the south, and were progressed some twelve days from the sacred
base of old Sinai. At a place called Bir-es-Sheba, on the regular
caravan route to and from Mecca from the north, they heard of some
interesting archeological treasures just unearthed some two days'
journey to the east, and, having made the detour, the party snugly
encamped by the side of a beautiful stream under the shadow of the
Tubal chain of mountains.
"The treasures were vastly exaggerated, as is the custom with
everything oriental, and they soon determined to turn back to the
caravan route and 'bump' on up into Syria—'bumping' being the familiar
term for camel riding, and a very expressive word at that. But on
the afternoon of the first resting-day some one suggested a jaunt to
a famous old well, where it was said were some very ancient tumuli.
But, knowing the Bedouins to be conscientious liars, and sick of this
unrewarded chase for phantom treasures, the American begged to be left
behind in charge of two tents, which were pitched side by side on the
bank of the stream.
"This was at last agreed upon, the whole party except himself going
off on their three days' trip, leaving their comrade stretched at full
length on a rug, his _narghili_, or water pipe, lighted for company.
"This oriental atmosphere, gentlemen, is a powerful drug. Do what you
will to fight against it, its subtle charm holds you captive. The man
succumbed to its influences and went fast asleep.
"Out of this sweet, trance-like repose he suddenly bounded into the
horrible consciousness of a torturing pain in one of his hands, as
though some wild beast was crunching the bones. But, as he writhed
to his knees to grapple with the foe, he saw instead three swarthy,
evil-faced Bedouins bending over him with ghoulish glee. One had just
cut off, with a hideous dirk-knife, the first three fingers of his
left hand. In an instant it flashed upon him that these were to be
sent to his friends with a demand for ransom. He was correct in this
supposition, for no sooner had the bleeding hand been rudely bandaged
than two of his captors set out upon this mission, leaving him in care
of the third, who was heavily armed.
"No one knew better than the prisoner how impossible such a ransom
would be. His fellow-travelers had brought as little money into Syria
as would meet their actual necessities while there. He therefore began
to cast desperately about in his mind for a loophole of escape before
the fellows should return with these unsatisfactory tidings, which
would result, no doubt, in further mutilations.
"As his gaze swept the tent for something suggesting a plan for
deliverance, he saw it had been gutted of everything except two
articles,—his light silk coat, which hung upon the partition between
the two tents, and the tourist's shaving mirror which it concealed.
The coat had been overlooked because it was as grimy as the tent wall
itself.
"In moments like this one grasps at straws. As it is said a drowning
person reviews his past experiences perfectly in a brief moment, so to
this man, facing desperate odds, came a desperate suggestion.
"He called loudly on a supposed protector in the adjoining tent to come
to the 'window,' and prove to his captor that he was under protection
of a Moslem. As he spoke he slowly drew the coat from before the mirror
in front of which the sheik was standing.
"No words can express the unutterable consternation pictured upon
that blazing face, livid with fright and wonder, as for the first
time it saw its own awful reflection, not knowing it was its own. One
instant he stood stock-still, fascinated, horrified, overwhelmed; then
collapsed, just as that lady did but a moment ago, and the American
quickly possessed himself of his captor's arms and was master of the
situation.
"And now, gentlemen," concluded the story teller, "we will have our
game."
As he spoke he again reached forward to turn the trump. There was a
quickly drawn breath of horror from those who observed him, for the
first three fingers of his left hand were missing.
Before he could turn the card, a savage lurch of the boat, accompanied
by the creaking of timbers, announced the arrival of the Rappahannock
at her New York slip—and the trump was never turned.
[Illustration]
The Secret of the White Castle.