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UNDER
THE REBEL'S
REIGN
A STORY OF EGYPTIAN
REVOLT
BY
CHARLES NEUFELD
ILLUS'D BY CHAS SHELDON
Under the Rebel's Reign
Copyright 1900 Charles Neufeld
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[Illustration: "His eyes rested on the motionless figure of an
Arab standing in the centre of the room."
Frontispiece. p. 292]
----------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: UNDER THE REBEL'S REIGN
A STORY OF
EGYPTIAN REVOLT
By CHARLES NEUFELD
AUTHOR OF 'A PRISONER OF THE KHALEEFA'
_ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES SHELDON_
London: WELLS GARDNER, DARTON & CO.]
----------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. A QUARREL AND A FIGHT 1
II. DOWN THE DANUBE 12
III. A SURPRISE AND A REVELATION 24
IV. THE PARTING OF FRIENDS 35
V. HELMAR TO THE RESCUE 45
VI. A TIGHT CORNER 59
VII. A GOOD SAMARITAN 68
VIII. AN ENCOUNTER ON THE NILE 83
IX. THE REIGN OF TERROR IN ALEXANDRIA 94
X. THE MEETING OF FRIENDS 106
XI. A MYSTERIOUS MESSENGER 117
XII. THE NEW OCCUPATION 131
XIII. HELMAR PROVES HIS METAL 144
XIV. THE REGIMENTAL COOK 154
XV. ON PATROL 164
XVI. WE MEET AGAIN 178
XVII. HAKESH THE PRIEST 193
XVIII. BEHIND PRISON BARS 205
XIX. THE ESCAPE 215
XX. ARABI PASHA 225
XXI. TO CAIRO AGAIN 237
XXII. HORROR 249
XXIII. IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 261
XXIV. A FRIEND INDEED 272
XXV. NAOUM PLANS 284
XXVI. A DASH FOR LIBERTY 297
XXVII. ACROSS THE DESERT 308
XXVIII. MEETING OF FRIENDS AND CAPTURE OF ARDEN 322
XXIX. TO DEATH OR GLORY 334
XXX. CAIRO SAVED AND HELMAR'S REWARD 346
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"His eyes rested on the motionless figure of an
Arab standing in the centre of the room" Frontispiece
The Duel 1
A visit to the Pyramids 11
Camping on the banks of the Danube 12
Type of Egyptian 23
The accident on the Danube 24
"As the leader made an attempt to get over the
bough, Helmar swung his heavy club at him" 27
Helmar in Alexandria 35
Type of gipsy 44
The man-hunt in the slums of Cairo 45
A pair of pistols 58
The capture of the spy 59
"Just as a hideous black wretch rushed at him,
he fired point-blank" 66
A Good Samaritan 68
On the look-out 83
"Presently the firing re-commenced, and Naoum
gave orders to attack" 90
Helmar seeking shelter for the night 94
View of the city 105
In the Consul's office 106
An Egyptian water-carrier 116
A hot pursuit 117
"Trapped, by Heavens!" shouted Helmar 124
A patriarch 130
Watching the looters 131
Sword and Fez 143
The task accomplished 144
"At last the gun reached the top" 151
Helmar and the cook 154
Death of Brian 164
A mounted patrol 177
Face to face 178
"And how do you propose to drag me from here if
I do not choose to go?" 181
A Dahabieh 192
Helmar felled the Egyptian to the ground 193
Hustled into prison 205
"Pull and shake as he would, the iron seemed to
remain firm in its socket" 211
A race for life 215
Helmar before Arabi 225
Arden's agent at work 237
Breakfast brought into prison 249
In the place of torture 261
"He was already beyond crying out. All sense of
feeling had left him!" 270
Under friendly care 272
Arden's disguise discovered 284
The guide leads the way 297
The flight over the plain 308
The fight in the desert 319
The meeting of Osterberg and Helmar 322
To save Cairo! 334
"They rode straight for the citadel" 344
The Sphinx 345
Approaching the city 346
Helmar's gratification 362
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[Illustration: UNDER THE REBEL'S REIGN]
CHAPTER I
A QUARREL AND A FIGHT
The Debating Society of the Koenigsberg University was sitting. The
subject for the occasion was of a trivial nature, but lent itself to
keen and heated argument. The whole afternoon had been occupied with
the speeches of the minor lights of the society, and now only the
two opposing leaders remained to make their closing speeches before
the division took place.
Young Osterberg, the leader of the "Ayes," rose to his feet. His
remarks were sound and clear, and his arguments, to many,
conclusive. After he had occupied the attention of the assembly for
nearly twenty minutes, he sat down amidst the plaudits of his own
side, to await the speech from the leader of the Opposition.
At that moment a voice, distinctly audible above the buzz of
conversation that followed, spoke in a loud, unpleasant tone,
evidently intended for the whole room to hear.
"'Tis a pity certain positions are not filled by fellows capable of
thinking and arguing logically. Such rot I have never before
listened to. Come, Maurice, let us go to the club rooms, we shall
find better entertainment there." And the two men rose from their
seats and moved towards the door.
Before they reached it the voice of the President stopped them, and
in sharp, incisive tones called them to order.
"Such words," he said, "are against the rules of the society and
must be withdrawn, or the laws which govern the Association will be
enforced and the speaker's name struck off the list of membership."
John Landauer, the man who had uttered the offensive words, turned
on hearing the President's mandate. With flashing eyes he glanced in
the direction of Osterberg.
"My words may have been untimely as uttered in this room, and for
that I apologize; but my opinion of the last speaker, friend
Osterberg, remains the same, and what I am not allowed to express
here I shall take the earliest opportunity of doing elsewhere."
He turned, and, followed by the youth he had addressed as Maurice,
left the room.
An ominous murmur went round the room as the door closed behind
them, and an air of suppressed resentment pervaded the place. One
and all felt that an insult had been offered to Osterberg, an insult
which they knew, since he was a theological student, he would be
unable to respond to in the customary manner. However, the
expression of the young student's face, usually so kindly, indicated
that the altercation had not yet ended.
As soon as the debate was over, a general adjournment to the club
followed. Osterberg was one of the first to reach it.
He found Landauer playing billiards with his companion Maurice.
Stepping up to him, he eyed him sternly from head to foot.
"Thank you, Landauer, for your opinion of my ability," he said,
evidently with difficulty repressing a desire to indulge in personal
violence, "it was a plucky remark of yours. Had I been studying for
other than the ministry, you would not have dared to give it
utterance. Bah! I appreciate a man, but you are a coward!"
Landauer turned fiercely on the speaker.
"Coward? It is not I who am the coward! I do not take shelter under
the cloak of the ministry, which forbids duels. You are the coward,"
he went on, stepping towards him and snatching his cap from his
head, "and I challenge you to prove my words false!"
As he spoke he flung the cap on the ground at Osterberg's feet, and
defiantly awaited the outcome of his action. The challenge was a
customary one amongst the students. The snatching Osterberg's cap
from his head was the greatest insult Landauer could have offered
him, and the bystanders wondered how it would be received.
For a moment the young theological student stood as if in doubt. His
lips twitched with indignation. There was no cowardice in his
nature, but he knew the rigorous laws which governed his studies. On
the one hand, if he refused to accept the challenge, the stigma of
cowardice would stick to him all his life, and on the other, he
would have to give up his profession if he should have a scar
inflicted under such circumstances. Human nature conquered, and he
was about to return insult for insult, when a firm, strong hand was
laid on his shoulder.
"One moment," said a voice, in passionless even tones, "I have
something to say to our friend here."
The speaker calmly strode up to the bullying Landauer, and, with his
open hand, struck him across the face.
"You wish to quarrel? Very well, now is your opportunity. You have
insulted not only our friend Osterberg, but the Debating Society of
which I am a member. These things cannot go unnoticed. Apparently
you selected Osterberg as a butt for your insults, knowing that,
from the nature of his studies, he could not retaliate in the usual
manner; but such cowardly bullying shall not be passed over, you
shall account to me for your caddish behaviour."
The challenge was so startlingly sudden, that Landauer had no answer
ready to give, but with rage and mortification expressed in every
feature he fumbled in his pocket for a card. At last he drew one
out, and with all the bombast he could summon on the spur of the
moment, he scribbled the name of a friend upon it, and threw it on
the table.
"You shall hear from me to-morrow," he cried, between his teeth.
His opponent smiled as he picked the card up; then, with the same
deliberation, he replaced it with one of his own.
"Good," he said. "This is my affair now, and----"
"I'll give you a lesson, Mr Helmar, that you won't have time to
forget." And Landauer, flinging his billiard cue on the table,
strode from the room.
"Well done, Helmar!" "Good luck to you!" and such-like exclamations
of approval filled the room as the door closed behind Landauer. Some
of the students, however, blamed Helmar for what they termed his
foolhardiness in interfering. But the majority applauded his
action, and wished him every success.
Landauer was well known to be an expert swordsman, and had been
victorious in several duels. Helmar, on the other hand, was entirely
unknown in the use of the weapon, and was naturally pitied by his
comrades. But the students admired bravery, especially when in a
good cause. In this case they unanimously condemned Landauer's
conduct in selecting Osterberg for the object of his assault.
"The fellow's a bully, whatever else he is, and no doubt thought his
insult would go unchallenged. But there, the thing's done now, and I
do not regret my action in the least. He must get satisfaction from
me, if he wants it."
George Helmar was a quiet youth, of studious habits. A young man of
seventeen, he had the reputation of being a hard worker, and had
none of the quarrelsome spirit such as his adversary possessed. The
thin, determined face, with its square jaw and keen grey eyes, the
great loose shoulders and powerfully developed limbs might have told
more careful observers than his fellow-students that underneath that
calm exterior a latent power existed, which Landauer had best not
underrate.
He had been brought up in the country, where his father practised
medicine. There all his leisure had been spent in manly sports,
riding, running, shooting, fencing; all these things he had gone in
for as a boy, with the result that the town-bred Landauer, though an
expert swordsman, was not, as regards physical training, to be
compared with him.
Helmar hoped at some future date to succeed his father in his
practice, and to that end had worked hard, using, as a matter of
fact, the University recreation rooms and grounds very little. It
was, therefore, not strange that his companions should doubt his
ability to meet his adversary with any chance of success.
It is often small things that alter the course of a man's life, and
so it was with Helmar. What he thought to be but a mere incident in
his career turned out to be the cross-roads of his existence.
During the time which elapsed before the duel, he pursued his
studies in the same indomitable fashion, considering but little of
his chances, assuring himself only of the justness of his cause.
His friend Osterberg, however, was greatly concerned, and passed
many sleepless nights weighing the possibilities of what might
happen. Although he was to become a clergyman, and duelling was
forbidden him, he nevertheless had plenty of fight in him, and many
times wished that he could relieve his friend of the self-imposed
risk he was taking on his behalf.
Landauer, on the other hand, had too much of the vanity of the bully
to cause him any uneasiness. He was confident of his own superiority
over Helmar, and discussed his inevitable success wherever
opportunity arose.
The day at last arrived, and early in the morning the combatants met
at the appointed place. Doctor Hertz was in attendance, and as the
two young men stripped and stood grasping the hilts of their swords,
he eyed them critically.
Landauer he passed over with a glance, his neat, lithe figure was
quite familiar to him, he knew his powers to a fraction, and was
perfectly aware that he would give a good account of himself.
With George Helmar it was different. He had never seen him
before--it was his first appearance in the duelling world. The
doctor's critical glance quickly turned into one of admiration. The
tall, loose figure, though perhaps not beautiful in an artistic
sense, pleased him greatly. Helmar's back and chest were ribbed with
beautifully developed muscles, while his long, sinewy arms hung
loosely at his sides, their very pose indicating to his practised
eye their perfect suppleness.
The old doctor liked what he saw in the new candidate, and a grim
smile played over his face as the word of command was given.
The spot was a solitary one. The common that had been selected was
well away from the University, and admirably adapted to an encounter
such as this. The trees in the background sheltered the combatants
from observation in one direction, but for the rest the common lay
open and uninviting, and the chill morning air blowing across it
made the onlookers think longingly of their beds.
Notwithstanding this, every eye was riveted on the duellists. No
thought of the fact that probably one of the men would be carried
lifeless from the spot detracted from their interest in the
encounter. They loved a fight, it was their nature; and, rain or
snow, wind or hail, they would watch it to the bitter end.
At first the two young men fought cautiously, their heavy sabres
flashing and glinting in the morning light as they thrust and
parried with lightning rapidity. Later on Landauer seemed inclined
to attack, and his blows on Helmar's weapon rang out in quick
succession. Acting purely on the defensive, the latter parried the
onslaught with an ease that puzzled and angered his opponent, until
incautiously he fell into the trap by redoubling his attack. Helmar
had reckoned on this. He hoped soon to tire the bully out, and a
faint smile passed over his face, as with a head parry he stayed a
terrific blow from his fiery antagonist.
Whether it was the smile, or a sense of caution previously unheeded,
is doubtful; but Landauer evidently saw his mistake and endeavoured
to remedy it by defensive tactics. It was too late. He had already
begun to tire, while Helmar was still fresh. Seeing his opportunity,
the latter pressed his advantage with the utmost cleverness. Without
giving his opponent time to recover, he came at him with a rapidity
that fairly astonished everybody, never wasting any power on a
stroke which he knew would be parried. Sparks flew from their
swords, as with the agility of a swordsman only in the highest stage
of training he fought, bearing his opponent back with his lightning
thrusts.
It was a fine sight. The whole thing seemed little more than play to
him, while his antagonist was already breathing hard and showing
signs of fatigue.
In the third round Helmar received a slight wound in the face, and
the sight of the blood made the onlookers think that he was tiring
too. But they didn't know their man. He had a big reserve of power
which, as yet, he had not exerted; but he knew the game was in his
own hands, and was prolonging the bully's punishment.
Suddenly Landauer made a ferocious attack, and in doing so for a
moment drove the other back. His advantage was but momentary, for in
an unguarded moment he had left himself badly open. With no real
intention of doing him very serious harm, Helmar lunged out, and his
sabre passed down Landauer's right cheek to his left shoulder, and
he fell back on the grass with a terribly ugly wound.
The duel was over, and the bully punished. The spectators rushed to
express their admiration to the victor and congratulate him on his
success, but he would have none of it, and hurriedly went to the
assistance of his late foe.
The doctor examined the wound and looked very grave. In response to
his inquiries, he told Helmar that he could not yet express an
opinion, but the case was serious, and the wounded man must be at
once taken to the hospital.
Helmar turned to his friend Osterberg.
"Come," said he, "this place is hateful to me. If I have killed him
I shall never forgive myself." He put on his coat and went back to
his house.