ON PATROL
It was with very mixed feelings that Helmar rode over to the patrol.
Of late he had come to regard all Egyptians with suspicion, and, in
fact, the entire native population. As regards the so-called "loyal"
blackies, he looked upon them as mercenaries, giving their loyalty
for gain to the stronger side; being more enlightened than others,
they realized that Arabi's rebellion could not possibly survive any
serious opposition, and that in the end England was bound to crush
it--hence their loyalty! Of course, it was well known that their
ranks were crowded with spies--this was only natural--and he felt
certain, though unable to prove it, that the man who had just spoken
to him was one of these.
As he rode up and joined the little party of horsemen, he was in two
minds about speaking to Captain Forsyth of the man's suspicious
behaviour; but, in the rush of moving off, he had no opportunity,
and with the bustle and interest of his new work, the incident
entirely slipped from his mind. It was not till later on that every
word of that conversation was brought vividly back to him.
"All right, Captain Forsyth," said the Adjutant, after inspecting
the patrol; "you can move off. Good-bye, and good luck to you!"
The order to march was given, and the little party of twelve people
slowly filed from the lines.
The beautiful cool of the evening after the sweltering heat of the
day was refreshing to all, man and beast alike; the men laughed and
chatted, the horses snorted, threw their heads up and proudly showed
their mettle as the slow "walk march" was quickly changed into a
canter.
The camp was gradually left behind in the distance, and long ere
night set in, Alexandria, with its domes and spires, was lost in the
haze of the evening, and the bare, level, open country surrounded
them on all sides.
Their road lay in the direction of Kafr Dowar, distant about twenty
miles to the south-east. For some time after leaving the city the
railway was followed, until they arrived at the neck of land that
separates the lakes Mariut and Abukir, then, leaving the road
entirely, Captain Forsyth edged away from the railway and skirted
along the south-west bank of Lake Abukir.
Not very far out of the city, the officer dropped back to the rear
where George was riding.
"I'm going to divide the party, Helmar," he said, "and I want you to
ride with me. We will travel on the west side of the railway, and
shall probably meet stray Arabs in that direction, from whom we can
obtain information. It will be imperative to keep a sharp look-out."
"Yes," replied Helmar, "so far we do not know if Arabi has left Kafr
Dowar or not. Anyway, if he has, I expect he still has a large force
there."
A flanking party was then sent out to the east. The main body,
consisting of six men, were to continue the road direct for Kafr
Dowar, while Captain Forsyth himself, a trooper named Brian, and
George took the western flank.
Helmar and his companions soon reached and crossed the railway, and,
pressing on, the main body was quickly lost to view, and the work of
scouring the country began in earnest.
Helmar was very quick to learn his duties. A sort of instinct kept
all his nerves and senses strained, detecting anything that might
furnish information, and, although night had closed in, he found he
was able to distinguish many things that he would not have thought
possible in such darkness.
Their course lay across country, and the officer kept on the right
track by the aid of the brilliant light of the stars. He pointed out
the manner in which it was done to Helmar, who marvelled at the
simplicity of it all, and wondered how it was he had never thought
to try it before.
For some miles the journey was quite uneventful, and Captain Forsyth
began to think that the Arabs had really retired beyond Kafr Dowar,
even perhaps to Damanhour.
"There doesn't seem to be a sign of the enemy anywhere," said he.
"We must be within six miles of their reputed camp now, and we
haven't even seen a light. It seems very strange."
"Personally," replied George, "I think it's suspicious. These
Gypsies are very foxy; there are some about, or I'm much mistaken.
You don't catch a man like Arabi retiring all his troops without
leaving a strong rear-guard somewhere behind. What about that rise
over there?" he went on, pointing to the dim outline of a hill in
the distance. "I thought I saw the flash of a light there just now,
but it might have been only fancy."
Captain Forsyth pulled his horse up for a moment and looked keenly
in the direction indicated; but, as nothing appeared, the journey
was resumed. A little further on, he suddenly exclaimed under his
breath and whispered, "Wait a minute!" while he sprang from his
horse.
George felt a breath of excitement as he watched the officer's
movements. The trooper Brian had come up alongside him.
"Faith, seems to me there's some one on the move ahead of us. Can't
you hear the sound of horses' hoofs, sir?"
Helmar listened. At first he could hear nothing but the sighing of
the evening breeze as it rustled over the open plains; but gradually
he became aware of other sounds blending with it. He listened
intently, and the sounds became more distinct, but still so dim that
they seemed very far off.
"Yes, I think you are right, Brian, but they are a long way off.
They seem to me more to the left and in the direction of the
patrol."
"That's so," replied the Irishman, "and, sure, it's to be hoped the
sergeant is aware of 'em."
Just then the officer re-mounted his horse.
"Well, sir, do you think it's anything coming our way?"
"No," he replied, "not our way, but it's a party of horsemen, and
they seem to be going straight for our main patrol. Brian, you and
Helmar remain here; don't advance. I am going to join the sergeant's
party. If you hear the sound of fire-arms from that direction, you
two will join us at once; and if not, in twenty minutes from now
strike a light and I shall rejoin you. Don't make any mistake.
Helmar, I shall leave you in charge."
While the officer was speaking, George gave all his attention to the
sounds approaching, and his restless eyes scanned the darkness all
round. What he had thought to be coming from the east now sounded to
be from the west.
"Very good, sir," he replied, as Forsyth finished speaking. "But it
strikes me you are either wrong about the direction of the sounds,
or there are others coming towards us from the west."
The officer listened, but he remained convinced that what he had
heard came from the direction he had said.
"No, I am right," he said, at last. "There is no sound to the west.
Don't forget your instructions," and he turned his horse and
disappeared in the darkness, the clatter of his horse's feet soon
becoming deadened by the heavy sand.
"You're right, Mr. Helmar, and he's wrong, though it wasn't for me
to say so," said Brian, in tones of firm conviction. "As the officer
disappeared, did you notice how quickly the sound of his horse's
hoofs died away?"
"Yes," replied Helmar. "But what has that to do with it?"
"Simple enough," replied the other; "he's forgotten about the wind.
There isn't too much, it's true, but what there is is coming from
the west, and consequently the sound travels with it. Now, you
listen. You can't hear a sound of him now."
It was as the Irishman said. Strain as they would, there was not a
sound to be heard from his retreating horse.
"You're right," said George, at last, "and the other sound is still
to be heard, which means----"
"Which means that some one is approaching us from the west, and the
sound is travelling with the wind. Before he gets back we'll have
trouble on our hands, or I'm--I'm--a Dutchman," he finished up in
his broad Irish brogue.
Although Helmar was determined and courageous, he was a novice at
the art of war, and was ready to adopt any plan that appealed to his
common-sense when danger threatened, so he consulted his companion.
"Assuming that we are right, what plan do you suggest?" he asked,
eyeing the Irishman keenly.
"Well, it's hard to say what's best. Sure, I'm right on for a fight,
but we must first locate how many are coming, and p'raps after all
they may be friendlies, though I wouldn't give much for the chance."
"Neither would I," replied George, laughing. "Well, I'll tell you
what I propose; we'll just lay low and be guided by circumstances,
and, in the meantime, look to our arms."
The two men's revolvers were loaded, and the magazine of their
rifles full; after they had examined them carefully they sat in
solemn silence, with every nerve strained to its highest tension for
the slightest suspicious sound.
Every moment increased their certainty of the approach of horsemen,
although at a slow pace, for the sounds were infinitely more
distinct.
"They're coming, right enough," said Brian abruptly in a whisper. "I
caught the sound of voices just now, and by jabers it seems to me
they're Gypies."
This was a surmise of the Irishman's imagination, for as yet Helmar
had heard no voice; but still the sounds came nearer.
"Another two minutes and it'll be time to give the signal to Captain
Forsyth," said Helmar, feeling over the face of his watch.
"Eh? And bring a hornet's nest about us!" exclaimed the Irishman in
disgust. "But there, it's military orders, and I suppose they must
be obeyed, whatever the consequences."
"It seems to me all wrong anyhow," replied Helmar; "I don't think he
ought to have given such an order. A scout has no business to give
signals like that, or even to carry matches, but I suppose it's got
to be done. Get your pistol out and be ready while I strike a
light."
A grunt from the Irishman signified assent, and, a moment after,
Helmar struck a match. Simultaneously as the match flared up, there
was a howl from the west, and the two watchers heard the galloping
of horses from that direction, while from the eastward they heard a
loud "whoop" from Captain Forsyth, who almost instantly dashed up.
"Quick, for your lives, men," he cried, "we are surrounded. There's
a party of the enemy in hot pursuit of me. We must turn back and try
to outflank them and join the rest of the patrol. Come on!"
Leading the way, he turned his horse and the three men galloped off.
"It's no go, cap'n," cried Brian, whose horse had leapt into the
lead and was trying to bolt. "There's a party coming straight for
us. Let's make a stand and give 'em a taste of our lead."
"On, man, on for your life! They're coming in all directions," he
shouted back. "That match did it."
They turned their horses in another direction, but as they did so a
rattle of musketry met them, and a hail of bullets flew over and
around them.
"Pull up," said Forsyth, in quiet tones, "the game's up, we must
make a fight for it."
Another volley whistled about them, and Brian's horse was hit and
fell to the ground.
"Are you hurt?" cried Helmar, dismounting to his assistance.
"Not a bit," replied the fallen man cheerily, springing to his feet.
The officer jumped off his horse, and the three men stood ready to
sell their lives as dearly as possible. They were none too soon,
for, in the darkness, the enemy, riding at full gallop, were almost
on top of them before they could pull up. The moment they were near
enough to see, they poured another murderous volley into the devoted
little party, and the Irishman fell with a bullet through his chest.
In reply, the Captain and our hero blazed away with their rifles
into the cluster of horsemen.
Suddenly a voice rang out above the noise of the cracking rifles,
and the Arabs ceased fire; then clear and strong came in
unmistakable European tones--
"Surrender, you English, or you die!"
In an instant Helmar recognized the voice--it was Arden's. Rage
filled him as he thought that once more he was in the power of this
man, and he made up his mind to fire his last cartridge before he
gave in. He raised his rifle to his shoulder, but Forsyth stayed
him.
"It's no use. He has got us foul. Alive we may escape, but with
fifty to one against us, it is suicide." Then raising his voice to a
shout, he cried, "We surrender!"
The words were hardly out of his mouth when, with a terrific shout,
a volley was poured into the unprepared Arabs, and a frightful
_melee_ ensued as the rest of the patrol, headed by the sergeant,
charged to the rescue.
In the confusion Forsyth and Helmar sprang on to their horses--Brian
was beyond their help--and galloped towards their friends. The
darkness was so intense that the two men immediately got separated.
Helmar unconsciously altered his direction and immediately fell in
with a party of horsemen galloping off. Thinking it to be the
patrol, he joined them, and raced away. His horse was very fresh and
quickly forged ahead into the midst of his companions, when, to his
dismay, he discovered his mistake--he was in the midst of the flying
enemy.
With an exclamation of horror he endeavoured to pull up, but this
attracted attention, and the men beside him, turning, saw his white
face and shouted to their leader. George raised his revolver, but
ere he could pull the trigger it was knocked from his hand and he
was defenceless.
The Arabs now closed all around him--there was no possibility of
escape. One man had seized his horse's bridle, and he was forced to
gallop on whether he liked it or not. He threw back his head and
shouted, thinking his friends might still be within hearing, but a
blow on the mouth with the butt end of a pistol silenced him, and
bursting with rage and mortification he had to gallop on.
His feelings were terrible; to be captured in this childish manner
was too disgusting for words--and by Arden too! He railed bitterly
at losing the Captain in the darkness.
"If I had only had sense enough to stick close to him," he thought
to himself, "I should have been all right, instead of again being in
the power of this treacherous Mark. There'll be precious little
mercy for me this time, and when we get to his camp, I expect he'll
have me hanged."
Then the thought struck him that as yet Mark, if he was with the
party, had not seen him, and he felt inclined, notwithstanding the
exigencies of his position, to laugh at the surprise it would cause
that worthy when he became aware of who his prisoner chanced to be.
They were ascending a hill, and on the top of it George could see a
number of lights twinkling and bobbing about through the fringe of
bush that covered it. His captors gave him but little time to
speculate as to the place they were nearing, for not for one instant
did they slacken their speed as they ascended the steep slopes.
Helmar knew by the pace of the journey that he could not be far from
Kafr Dowar, but he had never heard that it was on a hill, and
besides, the railway passed through it. This latter thought
convinced him that this place must be only some patrolling station
of the rebels, and he felt sorry for himself that such was the case;
he would probably be in the power of Arden or some subordinate,
either of whom might, as likely as not, order him to be beheaded for
the amusement of the crowd.
These thoughts were not very comforting, and he was glad to put them
from him for others of a less morbid character, as he entered the
low scrubby bush in which the camp was pitched.
No word had passed between him and his captors from the moment they
had become aware of his presence amongst them. This ominous silence
had struck him at first as curious, but realizing a few of the
peculiarities of the "Gypies," he took this for one of them and
refrained from breaking it.
He was still in doubt as to whether Arden was with them, or whether
this was another party altogether, but, whichever way it was, he
meant to keep to himself the fact that he could understand Arabic,
and trusted that his knowledge of their language might help him to
escape, or at least save his skin.
On the whole, after the first shock of his capture was over, he
began to think that his fate might have been very much worse; he
might have been with poor Brian lying dead on the sandy plain, a
prey for the vultures who would swarm in dozens over his carcase at
daylight; or he might only have been wounded, when to be left out in
the scorching rays of the sun would have been ten times worse.
With reflections such as these he endeavoured to comfort himself,
and, as he entered the rebels' encampment, he felt he was ready to
face anything that was likely to happen.
Passing by a row of mud huts, the party drew up outside one bigger
than the rest.
Helmar was jealously guarded by two of the soldiers armed with
rifles and pistols, while a confabulation was being held by the
rest. They were talking some yards away, and so many tongues were
going at once that it was impossible for him to make out what was
said.
At last, however, they evidently came to a decision, and at a word
he was led off, with his horse, to a hut where his guards told him
in Arabic to dismount.
George was prepared for something like this, and remained where he
was, pretending that he did not understand. Immediately the men,
taking the bait, conveyed their meaning by signs, and he instantly
dismounted. He was then led into the hut, and the moment after the
soldiers left him, closing and barring the door behind them.