The first thought of M. de Morin, as soon as he saw that only about a
dozen yards separated him from his friends, was to speak to them.
"You are indeed good to come to my rescue," said he, "for one moment
later and they would have shot me. But when the report that you had
seized upon their chief reached the ears of my gaolers, they
postponed my execution so that I might play the part of hostage."
The Nomads, when first they heard their prisoner speaking, were
silent, expecting to be able to understand what he said. When,
however, they found that they could not even catch the sense of his
words, one of them hit him a violent blow with the butt-end of his
musket as a hint to be silent.
M. Périères at once told one of his men to hit the chief precisely as
M. de Morin had been hit. The Bedouins, though horrified at this
indignity, understood the lesson and took the hint.
"You are evidently at home with the _lex talionis_," exclaimed M. de
Morin, imperturbable as ever, and apparently regardless of the blow
he had just received, "accept my congratulations. The thanks I owe
you we will postpone, as at this particular moment I am not exactly
in a position to express myself as I should wish. Suffice it to say
that ever since I have seen your dear, old, familiar figures over
there I have been half wild to get to you."
He was interrupted once more. An Arab had conceived the idea of
making a sort of gag with a piece of old cloth, and of inserting it
in the prisoner's mouth.
"A gag for the chief!" cried M. Périères, turning towards his men.
His order was on the point of being obeyed, but the Bedouins
reflected that it would be an advantage to them to hear what their
leader might have to say, and so they abandoned the gag just as they
had retired from the butt-end business.
The two prisoners could thus, on both sides, keep open their
communications with their fellow-countrymen, only the game was not
quite even. Thanks to the interpreters, the Europeans were kept fully
informed of all that passed between the Bedouin chief and his men;
but the latter had not the faintest idea of the conversation between
the Frenchman and his friends.
"I congratulate you once more," exclaimed M. de Morin; "these rascals
are checkmated for the nonce. Ah! if I had only been able to do ditto
last night! Do you know how I fell into their clutches? They are
accustomed to the gloom of the desert, and can see in the dark, the
blackguards, whereas I had to grope my way. Moreover, they converted
their camels into ramparts. They are double-barrelled animals are
those camels, with feet wherewith to move, and a back and belly to
serve as a fortification. It was in vain that I fired my revolver,
seeing that I only hit the outer wall. When I had expended all but
one round of my ammunition, they threw themselves upon me and made me
a prisoner. And, _ápropos_ of that, have you any idea what has become
of Joseph?"
"We have rescued him," said M. Périères. "He is here with us. Show
yourself, Joseph."
The head of Mohammed Abd-el-Q-azal appeared timidly a few inches in
front of the rest of the line.
"Holloa! there you are, my friend!" said M. de Morin. "I am right
glad to see you again, though you have been a source of average
misfortune to me and are an arrant coward into the bargain. But,
since you are there, it is only right that you should wait on me once
more. Ask M. Périères for a cigar and bring it to me."
When he heard this order Joseph trembled in every limb. However, if
he were somewhat wanting in combatant qualifications, it is only just
to say that as a servant he was beyond reproach. He had, also, such a
lively sense of his duties that, to carry them out, he was capable,
once in a way, of heroism. Consequently, in spite of his shaking
limbs and trembling body, he was seen to cross the open space which
separated him from M. de Morin, hand him a cigar, take a match from
the box supplied by M. Périères, light it, and present it with all
respect to his master.
The Bedouins, like all semi-savage races, are regular children. The
veriest trifle serves to amuse them, and they have a variableness of
mood which is truly surprising. Enraged as they had been but a moment
ago, they became quite good-tempered when they saw Joseph. To menace
succeeded gaiety, and hearty laughter to dire threats.
Mohammed, it must be confessed, was at this moment a sight to see.
His staring eyes were almost starting out of his head from fear; the
very hairs of his whiskers appeared to stand on end; his nose,
empurpled by the sun, produced a most picturesque effect, full of
vivid contrast, in the centre of a face blanched with fright; the fat
shoulders of the lazy Parisian stuck out of his tattered shirt, and
his inordinately prominent stomach protruded over the waistband of
his trousers, whose fastenings, alas! had for the most part
disappeared during the night. To complete the picture, in his anxiety
to protect his bald head from all danger of sunstroke, he had knotted
his handkerchief at the four corners, and had made a sort of Chinese
skull-cap out of it.
"See," cried M. de Morin to his companions, "how all this amuses the
Bedouins. If we could only take advantage of it!"
"I was thinking of that," replied M. Périères. "What do you propose?"
"How did you manage to get hold of the chief?" asked the young
painter.
"By rushing on him unexpectedly," said M. Delange.
"Very well, then! Put the same plan in operation with me. I shall
give you less trouble than the chief, seeing that instead of
resisting, as he was bound to do, I shall help you. Make your
arrangements without delay, my dear Périères. I am going, as my share
of the job, to cater for the amusement of these fools, and as soon as
their mirth is at its height you must act."
Joseph, after having given M. de Morin time to light his cigar,
thought only of getting back to his companions; but he had scarcely
recrossed the open space at a run than he heard himself summoned once
more by his master.
"Joseph," said the painter, "tell these gentlemen that I am thirsty,
and ask them to oblige you with a little water."
M. Delange at once handed a leather bottle to the servant, who,
faithful to his principles, but in a greater fright than ever, once
more essayed to cross the open space. Alas! this double journey, this
gymnastic encore, was too much for the few and weakened fastenings of
Joseph's inexpressibles. The wretched man perceived that his last and
only garment, for his shirt did not count, was on the point of
deserting him. He made a supreme effort, and whilst with one hand he
grasped the leathern water bottle, with the other he did his best to
hold up the necessary article of his attire.
This truly picturesque attitude, his desperate struggles and his
terrified air were too much for the Bedouins, who broke out into
shouts of laughter until the tears ran down their faces, and they
laid their guns on the pommels of their saddles, so that they might
hold their shaking sides.
The moment was admirably chosen for the execution of M. de Morin's
design. At a pre-concerted signal, whilst two of the strongest men
held the chief in an iron grasp and prevented his making the
slightest movement, the other horsemen, with remarkable precision,
sprang across the space which intervened between them and M. de
Morin, hurled back his guard, formed a circle round him, drew him
backwards, and resumed their former position.
The Nomads laughed no longer, but they seemed utterly stupified.
Their prisoner had, as it were, been conjured away—they could not
understand it one bit, and, though they brandished their spears and
poured out threats by the bushel, they half believed that the
Europeans were either sorcerers or beings of another world.
"Now there is not a moment to lose," said the young painter, when he
found himself in the midst of his own people. "There is too much
anxiety in Djiddah about our fate to warrant our staying here for
ever."
"We ask nothing better than to get away, my dear fellow," said M.
Delange, "but if we turn our backs on these savages, or cease to have
them under our rifles, they will fire upon us."
"You forget our safeguard, their chief," replied M. de Morin. "Where
is Ali, the interpreter?"
"Here I am," said Ali, stepping to the front.
"Come along, then. I want to hold a parley with the chief, and you
must repeat to him exactly what I say."
Whilst the Nomads were consulting amongst themselves, and,
apparently, meditating an attack, M. de Morin thus addressed their
leader—
"You have behaved scandalously to me! When I was dragged into your
camp, I threw myself on your protection and I offered to pay you a
large ransom if you would let me rejoin my friends. Not content with
rejecting my offer, you allowed me to be insulted and ill-treated.
You deserve a severe punishment, but I pardon you—on one condition—
that we are allowed to depart, and that you go with us. At the gates
of Djiddah, oblivious of your wrong-doing, I will restore to you your
liberty—I swear it—if we have no farther cause of complaint against
you or your men. Ten of them may follow us, and they will serve as an
escort to bring you back. But if they utter a sound on the journey,
if they indulge in a single threat, both they and you will perish.
However you may decide, in five minutes we set out."
The Bedouin, after a moment's consideration and a careful scrutiny of
the arms of the Europeans, spoke to his men, and an animated
conversation took place between them. The interpreters alleged that
the views of the chief were pacific, but that several amongst the
younger members of the clan hesitated to fall in with them. At length
these latter appeared to yield, and the captive chief, turning to M.
de Morin, said—
"Let us start. I trust to your word, and you may trust to mine."
"Agreed," replied the young Frenchman. "But as I am on foot, as well
as my servant, a circumstance which will retard our journey and
yours, bring out two of your horses. We will return them to you, rest
assured. We, at all events, are not thieves."
The chief gave the necessary orders, but they were only half obeyed.
The horse borrowed by M. de Morin on the previous evening from Abou-Zamil
was brought out for him, but a camel was offered to Joseph. At
the sight of this beast, the unfortunate servant nearly fainted.
"No, no," cried he, "I had rather follow you on foot. No camel for
me, no camel for me."
"If you follow us afoot," observed his master, "we shall not reach
Djiddah in three days. It is out of the question."
Fortunately, the interpreter Omar, accustomed from his childhood to a
camel, gave up his horse to Joseph and took the despised steed.
The little band of Europeans, composed of ten persons, including the
chief, who was carefully guarded by two horsemen in the centre of the
troop, took the road to Djiddah.
Ten Bedouins, as had been agreed upon, followed them at a short
distance.