"And now, supposing we lay to a little and think about some breakfast? Not a bad idea that, eh?" exclaimed a cheery individual, upon whose brawny figure Geoff's eyes had many a time been fixed during the half-hour or more which had elapsed since the motor-boat had stolen so silently and secretly from the main channel of the Shatt-el-Arab into the wastes bordering the River Euphrates, and who seemed to be in command of the expedition.
He was a moderately tall, broad-shouldered, heavily-built, red-faced, and exceedingly—not to say delightfully—healthy-looking specimen of sailor humanity. His thin khaki-twill garments hung loosely about him—for if young subalterns, like Philip and Geoff, must needs have their clothes for active service cut almost as smartly as for residence in London, there were others, older than they—wiser, let us dare to venture—who, with much experience behind them, preferred comfort to elegance, and ease to any degree of smartness. Underneath the helmet which clothed the head of this naval officer was a broad and very rubicund face—as we have already mentioned—a strong, open, and peculiarly prepossessing figure-head, which was seamed and lined, partly by the action of the sun, but more by the almost constant smiles of the owner.
"Just shut down that throttle, Marsden," he called cheerily to the man operating the engine; and then to one of the sailors right for'ard: "You can let go that anchor, Clark. Now, boys, we'll pipe down to a meal and a smoke of tobacco, for there's no violent hurry. Glad to meet you two young officers. I'm Commander Houston, lately of H.M.S. ——, the ship the Admiralty authorities in Whitehall insisted on keeping in the Persian Gulf—a nasty sort of a place that Persian Gulf, I can tell you. Aboard-ship life in those parts is worse than any 'hole in Calcutta', and when the hot weather comes, phew! it's a wonder that a white man survives, and to me it's a miracle that I remain so robust and stout, when you'd expect me to get as thin as a lath, and waste away rapidly."
Waste away indeed! No one who cared to look at the jovial Commander Houston would ever imagine that to be possible, to have been probable even at any stage in his career. For the man was heavily built, as we have said, his bones well covered with muscle, and the latter clad with an amount of fat which made his figure rather rounder than was desirable. Geoff smiled back at him, while Philip unbent and let himself go in a moment. They couldn't help themselves, for the Commander made them feel at ease almost immediately. His smiling crew, the oil-stained individual who worked his engine, the Cox who sat right aft with the tiller, every one of them smiled, as if happy to be in his company.
"Looks jolly promising," Philip told his chumsotto voce, "It never occurred to me before that in joining this expedition we might have found ourselves under a high and mighty sort of fellow, who would order us about like dirt, just because we're junior subalterns. Ahem! Breakfast? Rather!"
"And to think that we had a meal just before we left our side of the river," said Geoff; "but I'm hungry enough, and ready for anything."
By now the Cox had gone for'ard, where the tall, raw-boned, grey-bearded native—whom Geoff had interviewed on the previous day, and who was said to have an intimate knowledge of the marshes—had now joined them. The Commander himself came aft from the central cabin, in which he had been stationed, and sat himself down near the two young infantry officers, and, opening a locker, pulled out a basket of provisions.
"The man who wants to get on in the world, and carry out a job successfully, must look after his health whatever happens," he smiled at them. "So, having started this expedition successfully, and slipped into the marshes with, I feel sure, no one being the wiser, we can look after the inner man before proceeding farther. Which one of you young officers happens to be known as Geoffrey Keith?"
"Guilty, sir!" Geoff told him, with a laugh. "I am the individual."
"Oh!"
At once our hero felt himself being surveyed with that same sort of polite, yet searching scrutiny which the General and his Staff Officers had directed upon him. Perhaps it is a habit of the Services; more likely it is a habit engendered in men placed in a position of command, who wish, in the space of a few seconds—seeing that often enough there is no longer for the purpose—to sum up those who are to serve with them, those upon whom they may have to call for action, and to assure themselves at the very commencement that they are to be fully relied upon.
"Oh!" he said at last, as he dived into his basket and produced a Thermos bottle, some cups, and a paper parcel. "Young enough, at any rate, Keith, but they tell me not too young to stand fire. Ah! Ah! Tales do spread, don't they? Never saw such people as the army for gossiping! I give you my word that, long before this expedition was mooted, I knew all about a fellow with a thundering fine Arab who had gone out and captured an Arab chief. That's you, eh, Keith?"
It was hopeless for Geoff to attempt to hide his modesty, for the very flush which rose to his cheeks seemed to raise the mirth of this naval officer. He glanced sideways at Geoff as he chuckled loudly, and then handed him a ponderous sandwich and a cup of steaming coffee.
"And the other young officer?" he asked between his own mouthfuls.
"Philip Denman, at your service," laughed the owner of that name, entering into the fun of the moment. "You don't happen to have heard any sort of report about that officer, do you, sir? That is to say, anything against his character, I hope."
"Well, not at present," the Commander laughed back at him, enjoying the joke immensely. "Nothing at present. But you never know! For before we are out of this business there may be lots of opportunities for reports, good and bad and indifferent. But just listen to this: I feel like a schoolboy, for I'm off on a jaunt, after being tied up aboard ship for two months and more. This expedition ought to be like a holiday; and, of course, if we happen to run into the Turks and have a little affair of our own, why, who knows? a poor chap who has been condemned for more than a year past to steam up and down the Persian Gulf may be promoted to something better. Now, Keith, another sandwich. No? Well, well, save it up till later. A pipe then? Oh, you don't smoke pipes! Then turn on your own particular brand of cigarettes while I light my pipe. And now let's have a sort of council of war. I ought to explain that I know precious little about this business. I have been told that these marshes extend for perhaps fifty miles, and even more, due west from the Shatt-el-Arab, and running a little north as they go westward; in fact, following and embracing the course of the River Euphrates. Turks are said to be hiding somewhere about in the marshes, and our job is to find 'em and rout 'em out if we can, and, if not, to bring back information."
He looked at Geoff inquisitively, and the latter nodded with energy.
"Quite so, sir!" he said. "We have brought a native along with us who knows the marshes."
"And a precious-looking old scoundrel he is too," laughed the Commander, turning his eyes towards the bows of the boat, where the native sat on his haunches amongst the sailors, consuming their rations with such energy that there was little doubt that they met entirely with his approval. "A precious-looking old scoundrel too," the Commander repeated; "but no doubt under that dusky skin of his there lies hidden something admirable. It seems to me, Keith, that the first thing for us to do, now that we have looked to the inner man, and have commenced to soothe our nerves with tobacco, is to cross-examine that old scarecrow, and find out something of what he knows about the marshes. I understand that that is your particular job, seeing that you are something of a linguist."
Geoff flushed. It made him quite nervous when people referred to his linguistic accomplishments, and more particularly so when the one who spoke was a merry naval officer who smiled quizzically at him as he asked his question. But a moment later Commander Houston was as serious as he could be, and, stretching out a friendly hand, gripped Geoff's shoulder.
"Only my fun!" he said. "Look here, Keith, there's nothing for you to be ashamed of in the fact that you can talk these Eastern languages. My word! I wish I could! For it would be worth quite a handsome little addition to my daily pay—and that to a Commander in the Royal Navy is something always worth considering. Besides, think of the added interest it gives you in a campaign such as this is! How free it makes you! And what possibility it presents of splendid adventure! Now I wouldn't mind guessing that if you were surrounded by the enemy, and were, as it were, blockaded in one of their towns, you would be quite capable of turning out as a Turk, provided you could get the disguise, and of giving them the slip. How's that, eh?"
Geoff admitted the possibility with a cheery laugh, for no one could be serious when Commander Houston was addressing him.
"I've done it already, sir," he told him, with a grin. "You see, Major Douglas—who's an Indian 'political', and who happens to be my guardian—brought me to Mesopotamia some while ago, and we went right into the heart of the country. The Major knows all sorts of Arabs and other people, and it's part of his job—or was, at any rate, in peace times—to find out everything that was going on; what the Turks were doing, what the Arabs thought of them, and how the various nationalities lived."
"Half a minute!" smiled the Commander. "What about the Germans?"
"Germans! Of course," admitted Geoff, "they were to be met with in all sorts of odd corners, and conducting every sort of extraordinary business. My suspicion is that their businesses, on many occasions, were absolutely fictitious; in fact, they had no real business in many cases, and were simply agents of the German Government sent into the country to worm out the secrets of the Turks, and more particularly to find out precisely what opportunities there were for trade, and what portion of it the British had secured."
"Hear! Hear!" echoed the Commander. "You can quite understand that being ordered to the Persian Gulf, and having to steam up and down that extremely uninteresting, not to say unhealthy part, left a man plenty of time for ruminating, for discussing matters in general, and for learning in particular something of what was happening in this portion of Turkey and in Persia. A fellow couldn't steam up to Basra—as we did now and again in one of our pinnaces—without knocking up against Germans—fat Germans, thin Germans, ugly Germans (lots of ugly ones, my boy)—Germans who were conducting some sort of trade, and who appeared at first sight to be the most harmless and almost the most helpless people under the sun. But that's your wily German all over!
"I remember one particular individual—a big, fat, jovial fellow—Von something or other, I've forgotten his name, except that it was a regular 'jaw-cracker'. Von Schmidt let's call him for the moment. A nicer chap to meet you couldn't wish for, that is, just at the beginning. I remember that he was trying to get together a business in dates. His sole object in life seemed to be that of bribing Arabs to bring in camel-loads of dates, and to deposit them in an old hut which he had hired just on the outskirts of Basra; and now and again he sent off a barge full of these same dates, consigning them to some place in Europe. But it was not his real business, my boy! And I found that out quite by accident. For, happening to get stranded one evening when darkness had fallen, and in the midst of a violent rain-storm, I claimed shelter from him—for there was a light in the window of his house. It was blowing big guns just then, and I suppose he didn't hear the rap I gave on the door. As a matter of fact, he was in his bedroom, which was at the back of the building. It wasn't the sort of time when one waits for a summons, for the rain was pouring down in torrents, as I told you, so I just pushed the door open and went into the main room of the building, and, shutting the door, shouted for him. Even then he didn't hear, so that I had time to take a good look round, and couldn't help seeing that the table in the centre of the room was piled with papers, and that maps—maps of Mesopotamia, maps of the Persian Gulf—diagrams showing the 'pipe-line', which brings our oil from Persia, and lists of Arab tribes, against which was placed a note in German, which showed that they were to be considered friendly, were spread out over the remaining portion of the table. You see," he added, with a chuckle, "I know a little German. Not much, you know, but just sufficient to read it. I can't tell you now all about those papers, and of course it isn't quite the thing for a man to enter the house of an acquaintance and read his private correspondence. It isn't 'cricket', of course, you know, and no Britisher does it; but accidents will happen, and that night it so fell out that my eyes were unwittingly opened: the fat, pleasant, jovial Von what's-his-name was undoubtedly a German Government agent."
Geoff nodded briskly, for he and Major Douglas had had many an experience with German agents in Mesopotamia.
"I don't profess to know all about it, sir," he told the Commander, "but the Major was very chary of the Germans he met, and often told me that Germany undoubtedly had her eyes on Asiatic Turkey, and was preparing the ground for some future occasion. But you were saying that I could dress up as a Turk and move about amongst them. I've done it, sir! You must understand that the Germans in Mesopotamia were very jealous of the Major, they not only suspected him to be a British agent, but knew what his mission was in the country, and for that reason set a watch on him. They bribed men to follow us, and put the Turks on our tracks, so that had we not been very quick and very wide awake we should have learned nothing—that is to say, the Major would have learned nothing—for the British Government. We had to give the Germans and the Turks the slip, and we did it, time and again, by adopting a disguise and moving off amongst the people. But about this native, sir; you suggested that he should be cross-examined."
"That's it!" cried the Commander, filling his pipe again. "Call the old boy up! 'Pon my word, now that one looks at him, he's quite a handsome scoundrel!"
By then the men for'ard, and the native whom they had been entertaining, had finished their meal, and, like their officer, were enjoying a quiet smoke before pushing onward. Sailor-like, too, they were endeavouring to their utmost to make themselves pleasant to their passenger. It was quite amusing to watch a big, burly sailor discoursing eloquently to the native and listening intently; Geoff and Philip and their Commanding Officer overheard some of this conversation.
"Look 'ere, old soul," they heard the A.B. exclaim in the most friendly fashion, while he tapped the native on his bare chest, "what's the use of this 'ere place at all? This 'ere Mesopotamia? What's the good of a country that's all sand and grit, with no good and decent water about it? Now, I could tell you of a country that's worth seeing! Know England, my lad?"
You would have thought the native was perfectly acquainted with every portion of Great Britain, for he positively shook with merriment, and grinned a ghastly grin at the sailor. Then, as if to make the point quite certain, he gave vent to a volume of guttural sounds, snapping his fingers, grinning and grimacing, till the sailor brought him to a sudden stop by tapping his chest again with one of his ponderous fingers.
"Just so, mate," he said as he puffed a cloud of smoke above the native's head. "Just so, old soul. But 'arf-a-mo'!"
The burly sailor extracted from his mouth a short black "clay" with a hand which was so big and horny that it instantly attracted attention, and having puffed another huge cloud of smoke just past the ear of the giggling native, he tapped him on the chest again, with a peremptory and extremely firm finger, while he wagged his head sideways.
"'Arf—a—mo', my beauty!" he said, while his comrades grinned their appreciation of him. "What's this 'ere you're a-sayin'? Sounds to me like so much gibberish, as if you was just a-cussin', and a-cussin' 'ard too. What's it all about, old soul? Why not speak good, decent, honest English?"
No doubt the native had as little idea of what the sailor was saying to him as that latter had of the dusky native's own remarks, yet the smiling faces round him, the friendly attitude of all, and that particularly friendly tap he was still receiving on his chest seemed to fill him with the utmost merriment. He positively bubbled over and gurgled with amusement, and grimaced till the honest sailor turned a face of good-humoured disgust towards his comrades.
"Lor'," he exclaimed, "if one had to live alongside a chap like this all one's born days! But he can't help it! He means well, you can see that, can't you? 'Ere, Jim, flick out that packet of fakes you had this mornin' and let the chap try a whiff. Perhaps he ain't used to cigarettes, but we'll soon larn 'im!"
And "larn" him they did! For in a very little while the native was purring away in the most contented manner possible, grimacing and gesticulating towards the group of sailors who clustered about him in the bows of the tiny motor-driven vessel.
Meanwhile the Commander, and Geoff, and Philip were interested, if not highly amused, spectators; and it was only when the native had his cigarette fairly well going that the Commander coughed loudly so as to attract the attention of his men, and called to them.
"Now, my lads!" he said cheerily, for that was his habit with the men, and they loved him for it. "Now, my lads, pass along that old scarecrow!"
You should have seen the grin on the faces of his men as they heard him, and hastened to obey his orders; and it seemed natural enough that their spokesman of a few moments earlier should be the one to pass the request on to the native.
"'Ere, old soul!" he said to him, pleasantly enough, and yet with a ring of authority which the native noticed instantly, and with perhaps a rather firmer tap of the finger upon his naked chest. "'Ere, old soul, you're under orders! And just you pass yoursel aft, and no 'ankin' mind you, with the Commander! You'll just answer all his questions straight out, and tell him the truth, and nothing but the truth, s'welp me!"
If it had been left to the native to gather the meaning of these words he might have been still in the for'ard part of that motor-vessel, for, as the reader will have gathered already, not one single letter of the British alphabet, and not one single word of good, honest English did he understand. But sundry significant nods of the head, and winks, and pointings in the direction of the Commander told him what was wanted, and presently he came climbing over, passing round the edge of the cabin, his long, lanky legs bare, his feet unshod, the scantiest of native wrappings around him. Yet for all his semi-nakedness the man was one to look at twice; one rather to admire than to despise; a child, and a handsome child withal, of this curious desert country. Like the Arab chief whom Geoff had captured, he was a fine specimen of humanity, fully grown, big and expansive, yet with refined features, and possessed of small hands and feet which gave him rather an air of breeding. A closely-cropped beard, getting a little grey at the point of the chin, set off a face which was honest, firm and intelligent. Yet he was only a humble fisherman, this man, and although possessed of fine physique, and of handsome appearance, yet had reserved the utmost respect for his superiors. He bowed low as he reached the aft part of the tiny vessel, and, at a word from Geoff, crouched native-fashion at the feet of the three officers.
"Not such a scarecrow as I thought, after all," said the Commander. "Keith, tell him he can go on smoking, and let us cross-examine him. Ask him where he thinks the Turks are hiding?"
"Who knows, Excellency?" came the answer in a voice which was even and musical; "who can speak of anything for certain in these parts, where the waste of waters changes its outline every day and constantly. But there is a rumour that there are many of these proud and stiff-necked Turks hidden somewhere away in these marshes, and, if that be so—as indeed it may be, for though rumour was ever a lying jade, yet often enough there is some truth in her—then the Turks will not be in these parts, but farther up the river, where the waste of waters breaks away from patches of rising ground, and where camps may be located."
"Ask him how many days' journey from here?" asked the Commander, when Geoff had interpreted what the native had said. "We've enough fuel on board to take us, say, 200 miles, and if the marsh throughout is as it is here, with beds of reeds and mud sticking up in many places, and no doubt shoals where you least expect them, then progress will not be rapid, and we may be able to cover only ten miles a day. How many days, travelling at that rate, does he think it will require to bring us into the neighbourhood of the Turkish camp?"
The native wagged his head sagely when Geoff had asked him the question, and sat for a while staring out across the water at the nearest bank of reeds, now lit up and glistening in the glancing rays of the rising sun.
"Excellency," he said at last, "that is a question to ask a wizard; it is of a truth a riddle, a riddle which none but this waste of waters can answer at the moment. But it may be that the journey will not be such a long one, for though these marshes change so constantly there is yet a line, down which the River Euphrates pours its waters, which may be followed at speed without fear of drowning, and without meeting with these islands of mud and reeds which fill the marshes in other directions. If the Excellency desires, I will direct the boat to that line and convoy it westward. But there will come a time when we must depart from the course, for to adhere to it would mean the danger of running into the centre of the enemy, and so of becoming prisoners."
For a little while the Commander and his two young officers discussed the situation, and then the former signalled to the man in charge of the engine to start it up.
"We'll get ahead at once," he said; "but let us try to be cautious. We have plenty of time before us, for the boat is well victualled, and there is ample water all round us; of course it is not fit to drink, and no one but a fool, or one utterly unused to these tropical climates, would dare to drink it. A mouthful, even, would mean a fever, perhaps a good deal worse. But some of those reeds cut from the islands and laid on the deck would make excellent fuel, and we have a stove right for'ard, and a boiler in which we can easily purify the water. You young fellows will already have learned the importance of a pure drinking-supply to troops on an expedition; the same applies to sailors, of course. Give either of them absolutely pure water whenever you possibly can, and prevent 'em both from drinking from the first pool they come across; supply them with good rations in addition, and don't march them about in a grilling sun unless it cannot be avoided, and you will keep your men in good health and strength, and fit to meet the enemy. It's the secret of campaigning—the great secret I ought to add—for, after all, when you send troops into the field, or into a place like Mesopotamia, you send 'em for one purpose only, and that to meet the enemy. The men who fall sick weaken your forces, and encumber your hospitals and your transport; and sick men are men who go under, often enough, because of lack of pure water. Now, Keith, tell the old boy to give us the line for the river. Denman, I am going to post you right aft, to keep a watch in that direction. Keith, you'd best go forward with the native right into the bows, so as to be able to interpret anything he tells you. Now, lads, pick up your rifles, and let one of you come right aft with this officer, two others will station themselves for'ard, and two more will be on either side of me in the cabin. We have got to remember that we may very well find ourselves not the only inhabitants of this waste of waters. We have taken the precaution to make a very early start, and got in amongst these reeds during the darkness, so that I think I am right in feeling that no one is aware of this expedition. But there may be natives about. Ask your fellow, Keith."
For answer the native shook his head vigorously.
"Excellency," he told Geoff, as they stood up in the bows of the vessel, "it may be, for all I know, but it is hardly probable; for in these wastes there is nothing to be gathered—no fish and no game—and why should a poor man come in this direction? Yet, listen a moment. There may be scouts of the enemy. No doubt the Turks are provided withbellums—the native boat we use in these parts—and it may well be that they have sent off scouts to pass down the waters and spy upon your brothers."
"Then we have got to keep our eyes open," the Commander sang out to his men, when Geoff had interpreted. "If you see a boat, pass the word along at once, but don't fire, for we shall be wise to make a capture, and so learn something of the enemy."
By now the propeller of the little boat was thrashing the shallow waters of the marshes, with a vigour which made itself felt throughout the timbers of the tiny vessel. She throbbed from end to end, and vibrated under the feet of those who manned her. Steered by the Cox, and directed by Geoff—who took his line from the native—the vessel shot off at an angle, and, pushing her way rapidly through a maze of reed-clad islands, and hummocks of oozy mud, which cropped up in many parts, she finally reached a spot where the waste of waters stretched uninterruptedly to the west and north of them. Here, too, there was a distinct change in the appearance of the water, for, while amongst the reedy islands of mud the marshes consisted of stagnant and dark-coloured water, there was a stream where they now were—a stream flowing gently past them—of lightish-yellow colour, in which particles of sand and debris swirled as one peered over the side of the motor vessel. The way of the boat, too, was retarded just a little as she headed up against the stream, a proof—if further proof was necessary—that they had now gained the channel of the Euphrates River. For three hours they motored their way steadily up this stream, seeing nothing to attract their attention, and finding on either hand the same water waste, with its margin of muddy islands, extending into the far distance. A haze hung over these islands, as the heat of the sun drew the water upwards, while a faint, sickly odour was wafted from them.
"Fever!" said the Commander, as he smoked another pipe. "A night spent in amongst those islands of mud would be bad for a white man, let us hope that we shall find some pleasanter place as the darkness draws in upon us."
That night, as a matter of fact, they tied up beside a sandy shelf which bordered the stream they had been following, and which ran upwards towards the desert. It was a species of sandy hillock, perhaps a mile across, which, being elevated, divided the waters. But who could say? Perhaps some years ago it had formed actually the bed of the Euphrates River, which had then flowed over and through it. But in the course of time the debris and sand borne along in the water had silted up, and formed a bank at this precise position; and succeeding layers of sand deposited by the water had finally raised the bank, till, gathering firmness and dimensions as the days passed, it finally defied and defeated the river which had been the source of its existence. Then the channel of the Euphrates had been changed, and what had once been its bed, swept by the ever-descending flood of water coming from the centre of Mesopotamia, from Asiatic Turkey, had become now a glistening heap of firm, dry sand, which gave the expedition a splendid bivouac.
"An excellent place!" the Commander told Geoff, as the anchor was dropped, and the boat was paddled in close to the bank. "We'll make our boat fast by driving pegs into the sand itself, and then we'll get ashore. A couple of men in the boat will be all that will be required, and the rest can accompany us."
In half an hour they had their fire going, and that evening Philip and Geoff enjoyed the experience of an open-air camp under the starlight. Yet it was not always to be so pleasant, as they were to find, for, on the morrow, having set off soon after the first streak of dawn, and having pushed their way rapidly up the winding and almost invisible channel of the river, they suddenly came upon a sight which caused them to halt instantly.
"Stop that engine!" ordered the Commander suddenly, "'Bout ship! If that's not a Turkish flat-bottomed vessel I'm a Dutchman."
A long, low-built steamer had suddenly hove into sight far up the winding river, and, looking at her swiftly, Geoff realized in a moment that her decks were crowded with men dressed in khaki-coloured clothing. Swinging his glasses to his eyes, he fixed them on the vessel, and then called back at the Commander.
"Turks, without a doubt, sir," he said, "I can recognize them easily. There's a man standing on a low bridge just above their heads who is wearing a fez, while opposite him there is an officer whom I should take to be German. There are fifty or more on the boat, and it is likely enough that they are an exploring-party."
An instant later a shrill shriek was heard from the approaching vessel, as her steam whistle was put into operation; then there was a flash from her side, and perhaps a quarter of a minute later a shot hit the water just behind the motor-boat, and, throwing up a huge cascade, almost drenched Geoff and his comrades. When they had shaken the water out of their eyes, and looked again at the approaching vessel, they saw a string of boats which were towing after her being pulled for'ard. Then men tumbled over the low sides of the vessel into the boats, while others ran into her bows, and, seizing their rifles, opened fire upon the occupants of the tiny vessel lying down below them.
"Go ahead!" said the Commander, as bullets spluttered into the water all round the vessel. "Keith, come along aft here, so that we can talk the matter over. What do you think, lad?" he asked, as Geoff joined him. "I don't like to put my helm about, and show my stern to that Turkish fellow."
"Nor I!" Geoff agreed with him; "and besides, we shan't have accomplished that for which we came into the marshes. It's bad luck, of course, sir, running into an exploring-party of the enemy so soon after coming this way, but there are sure to be more coming behind them, and those are the fellows whose positions we have to make out. Why not try to dodge them? By running right off to our left into the marshes we should soon be hidden by the islands of mud and reeds, and then we could steal westwards till we were above those fellows!"
"Wait! What's that? Another vessel, eh?" exclaimed the Commander, pointing to a spot higher up the river than that occupied by the Turkish vessel. "Ah!"
Geoff looked, and took in the situation in an instant, for, beyond the low-built Turkish steamer which they had so unexpectedly sighted round a sharp bend of the river, he saw another steamer—a small pinnace—low, like themselves, and speedy, and making towards them now on the stream, at a pace which heaped a mass of water up in front of her. Once more his glasses went to his eyes, and for a while he remained silent. Then he slowly dropped them into their case, lit a cigarette, and turned to his Commanding Officer.
"A fast steam-launch, sir," he said; "twenty men aboard her. It looks as though we should have quite a brisk little action."
For perhaps a minute the Commander turned his gaze upon the pursuing vessel, whilst his own craft sped down the river; then he smiled grimly, and Geoff heard him chuckle.
"Right!" he said. "A pretty little action! I believe you, Keith. Starboard your helm, Cox, and edge the boat off gradually towards the marshes. We'll induce that fellow to follow us till we are well away from the other vessel, so that she cannot support the launch with her gun; then we'll see what sailors can do at carrying out an ambush. Lie down, men, it's only fools who won't take cover; keep as low as you can, and don't give 'em anything to fire at."
Bullets, meanwhile, had been sweeping above the boat, and streaming their way past the ears of its occupants. Spurts of water rose on every hand, while now and again a cascade—a mere child to that thrown up by the shell which had been fired at them at the commencement of this encounter—would splash over the sides of the motor-vessel. Obedient to the order given them, yet grudgingly, for your sailor is a gallant fellow, the crew crouched low behind the sides of the vessel, leaving the Cox fully exposed, and the Commander still standing to his full height in the open cabin, and beside him Geoff, holding his ground—not wincing, not even dodging or bobbing his head, as bullets flicked past him.
"Nervous?" asked the Commander, as he stuffed tobacco into his pipe and calmly set the weed alight. "Not you, Keith! Nor Denman either! That's good to see, though it is only what I expected. Now set her going at full speed, and we'll see what we can do to dodge those fellows."
A long island of mud, clad with reeds, stood up before the motor-vessel, and it looked for a while as though the Commander had every intention of running her upon it; but at a signal from him—a signal made with a jerk of the hand which gripped his pipe—the Cox pushed his helm over, and the motor-boat shot past the end of the island, and, turning again, sped up behind it. A further jerk, and she turned off at a tangent, and, speeding across a waste of stagnant water, thrust her nose in between two reedy islands, following a channel which hardly seemed wide enough to accommodate her. Turning and twisting, and dodging to right and left, and once grounding with a dull and gentle thud upon the tail of an island, and breaking loose again because of her momentum, the vessel shot across another waste, and, rounding the end of a second stretch of oozy mud, was rapidly brought to a halt.
"Ask your old gentleman whether the mud would bear a man," the Commander told Geoff abruptly.
"Truly, Excellency," came the immediate answer. "These banks, though they quiver as one walks upon them, are yet solid, for the roots of the reeds have bound the mud together. Excellency, if I may ask a favour, let me land here, so that I may convey a warning to you."
A moment later the man was ashore, and, at a nod from the Commander, Geoff accompanied him. Then, pushing their way through the reeds, they gained the farther side, and, cautiously making an opening through which they could watch, waited for the coming of their pursuers. It was perhaps five minutes later when the rattle of machinery came to their ears, and within a few seconds the Turkish vessel hove into sight as she thrashed her way through the waste of waters. That she had lost the direction of the motor-boat seemed certain, though the Turks aboard her must have known that they were not far behind their quarry. A loud order reached Geoff's ears, while the clank of machinery died down of a sudden; then he saw the launch drift on towards the end of the island behind which the motor-vessel was hiding. Creeping back towards the Commander, he waved to him to attract his attention, and then called softly to him.
"In five minutes they will be crossing the far end of this island, sir," he said; "it ought to give us an opportunity."
"Come aboard, and bring the old gentleman with you," the Commander cried on the instant. "Now, boys, line the gun'l there, and hold your fire till I give the order. I've a little scheme on foot, and I'll be particularly grateful to you if you don't sink her. Shoot some of the crew, and capture the rest of them if need be. Now, my man, set her going!"
The engine revolved again, and in a trice the propeller was thrashing the water; then, ever so gently and quietly, they stole up beside the island, while on the far side the Turkish launch drifted ever closer to them.
While Geoff and his friends are aboard that motor-vessel, on the point of attacking the Turks aboard the steam-launch which had so unexpectedly opposed their progress up the River Euphrates, let us for a moment turn aside to follow the fortunes of another individual who has already been introduced to our readers.
We have already recounted how Major Joseph Douglas, a "political" officer, said farewell to his friends in that frontier fortress far up amongst the hills of India, and how he disappeared, as indeed was his wont, on another of those long expeditions on which the Government of India employed him. We have said that he reached the Persian Gulf and made his way to Basra, and thence up country on a river steamer till the walls of Bagdad enclosed him. Then, having disappeared from the ken of his fellows entirely, and having contrived almost to reach the heart of Asiatic Turkey, the war—which was to drag so many nations into its toils—broke out, and saw the Kaiser's legions overwhelming Belgium, and invading France and Poland.
That Turkey should have been drawn into this conflict was perhaps as much a matter for astonishment to the Turks themselves as to other peoples, for they had, in fact, no grievance against Great Britain or her allies. Indeed, Britain has always befriended the Turk, and done what she could for him; yet late years—those years just prior to the outbreak of this vast war which now tears Europe into pieces—saw what may be termed a revolution in the country of the Sultan. The "Young Turk Party" arose, a party which grew in power—thanks, no doubt, to the scheming help of Germany—till it was able to dethrone the Sultan himself and capture the reins of Government. In the hands of German schemers—the agents of the Kaiser and his war lords—these ambitious young Turks were easily deluded, and, carried away by the successes they had already met with, listened eagerly to the words of the tempters. There was gold to be had in abundance, gold, if the Young Turk Party would but carry out the behests of the German War Lord, if they would but follow a plan which, they were told, would lead not only to their own wealth—for rewards and presents would be poured upon them—but to the greatness of Turkey. War was imminent, they no doubt were informed, and Germany had designs upon the conquest of all nations. Why should Turkey be unfriendly to the Germans? Why should the subjects of the new Sultan fight with the subjects of the Kaiser? There was no desire on the part of the War Lord of Berlin to conquer the dwellers by the Bosphorus, the Turks living in Europe or in Asia, but only the fervent wish to be friendly with them. Then here was the opportunity! Let Turkey side with Germany against France and Russia, and, if need be, against Great Britain; let her close the Dardanelles utterly, and so shut off the Russian enemy from the Mediterranean; and then let her but wait till Germany had broken the fighting forces of France and of the Tsar of Russia; then would come the turn of those Powers in the Balkans—once the subjects of Turkey. Serbia would be overridden, would be decimated, would be stamped out of existence; if need be, Bulgaria, the ancient enemy of Turkey, would be destroyed completely. And then see what would happen! The forces of Germany and of Austria would be linked up with those of the Sultan, and who could stay their progress? With millions of men under arms, with engineers to construct railways throughout Asiatic Turkey, Egypt would be wrested for the Turks from Great Britain—Egypt the heritage of Turkey; Persia could be gained; Afghanistan itself, and even India conquered. Look at the prospect! The eyes of the Young Turk Party were blinded by the brilliance of such a proposition; and for those who were more sagacious, who knew the German to be a schemer, there was gold—gold in abundance—with which to bribe them, gold with which to gild their doubt, and to make them unwilling friends of Germany.
Little wonder, perhaps, that the guileless and inexperienced, if unscrupulous, "Young Turk Party" listened to the crafty words of the Kaiser's agents, and decided to throw in their lot with them. Little wonder that, following upon the outbreak of the war, they welcomed the coming of theGoebenand theBreslau—two of Germany's most powerful vessels—and, having admitted them to the Bosphorus, closed the Dardanelles entirely. Now, see the result of such a movement! In the Black Sea itself the Turks were hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned by the vessels of the Russians—that is, prior to the coming of theGoebenand theBreslau; but now that those two vessels had reached the scene, there was not a vessel in the Tsar's navy capable of easily standing up to them. Those two, with the help of what Turkey could send from her dockyards, might very well clear the Black Sea of all Russian vessels, and make the transport of Turkish troops to Trebizond, and to the frontier lying between Turkey and Russia, along the Caucasus Mountains, a matter of ease and safety. Then the coming of those two powerful vessels would enable the Young Turk Party to reinforce their army in the Caucasus, and, perhaps, to strike a blow there which would cause heavy Russian losses. In any case, a force so disposed would necessitate the placing of Russian armies to oppose them, and Russian armies so withdrawn from the forces of the Tsar would weaken the troops needed to stem the tide of Germans and Austrians then pouring into Poland.
Looked at from every point of view, the coming of Turkey into the conflict was likely to be of enormous advantage to the Kaiser, and of signal disadvantage to Britain and her allies. That it was likely to improve the fortunes of the Turks was problematical only. Indeed, there is little doubt that if Germany had carried out to the full the first portion of her programme, and had shattered the forces of France and of Russia, Turkey would have become merely a puppet in the hands of the Hohenzollerns. Germans would—and may even yet—sweep into Asiatic Turkey, and, had they broken the power of their enemies elsewhere—as fortunately they have not done—the Turks would undoubtedly have become vassals of the Kaiser. As it is, they have thrown in their lot with the Germans, and it would appear as if they were to gain nothing but losses and privations.
But, in any case, they had become enemies of Britain and her allies, and, seeing that Major Joseph Douglas was most decidedly a Briton, they were enemies of his, and he was an alien in the midst of them. Such a well-known person as the Major—for let us say at once that if Major Joseph Douglas was known far and wide in India, a welcome guest in many an officers' mess and in a host of cantonments, he was, in a rather different way, just as well known in the heart of Mesopotamia—was now an alien, an enemy, and must needs look to his own safety.
Douglas Pasha had, in fact, a most uncanny way of eluding the Turkish governors of the various provinces he visited. He came openly to them, and often enough called upon them in the most friendly manner possible, receiving from them the warmest welcome. Yet, under the silken cloak of friendship, and beneath the welcome which every well-bred man extends to another—and your Turk is a gentleman, whatever else you may say of him—there existed always, when Douglas Pasha turned up upon the scene, a feeling of doubt, of hesitancy, almost of danger, in the minds of those Turkish governors. Crafty themselves, they knew well enough that he had come to investigate every feature of the country, to ascertain what Turkish forces were maintained, to map the roads, no doubt, to investigate the progress of such railways as Turkey possessed, and to unearth a hundred different matters. It followed, therefore, often enough, that Douglas Pasha's exit from the palace of a governor was followed, almost automatically, by the dogging of his footsteps. Spies followed him from place to place, spies who watched his every movement like a company of cats; spies whom the cheerful and cunning Douglas Pasha on every occasion managed to elude.
Thus, he was within a few days of the outbreak of war at Bagdad, where news of European matters had not yet reached the populace. Yet the governor knew that war was impending—that Turkish governor upon whom the Major had called that very afternoon, and who had bowed the gallant officer out of his palace, had smiled in such friendly fashion upon him, and who, once his back was turned, had snapped his fingers, had clapped his hands, and had set machinery in motion to have Douglas Pasha followed and watched. Yet, strange as it may seem, Geoff Keith's most excellent guardian was by no means the simpleton he seemed, and by no means ignorant of events then impending.
He strolled down the centre of the Bazaar, a likeable figure in his dust-coloured travelling-suit, a tall, active man, with the face and the bearing of a soldier. He stopped to converse with an Arab dealer in brass-ware, seated cross-legged upon his little stall, and chatted with him as if he were himself a native. Then he passed on to another stall, leaving the Arab, usually so uninterested in the affairs of this world, keenly curious as to the nationality of the stranger who had addressed him. A dozen yards higher up, there was an Armenian Jew selling jewellery, and with him, too, Douglas Pasha chatted in the most pleasant manner and in the Armenian tongue; and then he strolled on for a while, till, noticing the angular figure of a big-boned Jew seated upon another stall, with a mass of embroidery laid out before him, he turned back and strolled towards him.
"Many fine wares to sell, my friend?" he said, addressing him in the Armenian tongue. "Our brother yonder has jewellery beyond compare; but, in truth, these wares that you have to offer would delight the heart of a houri."
Bending down, he picked up one of the gaudily-embroidered pieces of cloth and admired it openly; while the Jew, after answering him in a monosyllable, and casting his eyes up at the Major's face for just one moment, bent them down again upon his goods, as if fearful that someone might filch them from him.
"Fine gold, friend, and stuff woven in the heart of Persia," the Major told him. "And what may be the price of this, my friend?"
As might be expected, the price which this hook-nosed and somewhat ancient Jew set upon the article selected was simply immense, more than treble its actual value. But, then, it is a habit of the East, where a purchase more or less is not a matter of importance, where there is time for everything, and hurry is a thing not to be dreamed of. Shopping in London or in some busy provincial city and shopping at Constantinople or in the Bazaar at Bagdad are two utterly different affairs altogether; the one all haste, intermingled with the most business-like methods, and the other all dilatoriness, with a strong flavour of friendly haggling, when hours must be passed before the price of the simplest object is settled.
"And low in price," the Jew told the Major, glancing cunningly up at him. "Low in price, Excellency, as truly as I sit before you. But wait, there are other goods for sale within this store; be seated, take a post of honour on this bench, and let the youth bring coffee to us."
His bent figure became upright for a moment, and he clapped his hands loudly. At the same instant he swung his eyes round that portion of the Bazaar visible from the stall where he was wont to sit the livelong day, and dropped them instantly. Yet that one glance seemed to have sufficed, for a smile seamed his face for just one second. Then he rapped out a sharp order to the Turkish boy who appeared at his summons, and sat on motionless, without a word, without even venturing to offer more of his wares, till the coffee had been produced and laid before himself and the Major. It was then, as the English officer tipped the tiny egg-shaped cup to his lips, that the eyes of the two met.
"Well!" demanded the Major.
"Excellency, beware! There is news from the outside world," the Jew told him, and then again swept a swift glance round the confines of the Bazaar. "Listen, Excellency!" he said, snatching another piece of embroidered ware and holding it up before the Major, while he made pretence to point to the gilded work upon it; "listen, Excellency! There is war!"
"Ah!" came from the Major.
"War between France and Russia on the one hand and the German enemy on the other."
"And Britain?" asked the Major breathlessly, though to an observer, even more than casual, he seemed to be engaged in most carefully scrutinizing the embroidery. "And Britain?" he asked again. "She——"
"There are things that seem strange to one of us people in this land of Turkey," said the Jew quietly, stretching out a hand to pick up more of his wares. "There is a place, a country, perhaps peopled by a great nation for aught I know, a country known as Belgium. Listen, Excellency! The Germans have invaded that country, have burst their way into it, have fired upon the people, and have killed many of them."
"That means war, war for Great Britain," said the Major, tossing the pieces of cloth down and shaking his head as though he could not agree to purchase them. Then he picked up another piece, and while he scrutinized it told the Jew to go on with the story.
"Proceed!" he said. "Belgium is a country of much importance. Germany had sworn, with Britain and France and other nations, to preserve that country inviolate. Then she has broken her word!"
"As Germans ever break their word," the Armenian Jew told him. "Yes, Excellency, in the years that have gone by, and increasingly so in these last few years, I have met with German after German. In public life I know them not, but in trade, I say, beware of them! They steal behind the scenes, they are mean, and thrifty, and energetic, and possessed of many virtues and many failings. I like them not, and trust them not at all! So, Excellency, they swore to defend this country! And yet tore up that treaty, and poured soldiers upon her? Truly that is an act of baseness seldom heard of."
"And means war for my country," the Major told him. "And then, my friend?" he asked swiftly.
"And then, from the same source, I gather that there is a stir in Constantinople, that there is a great movement of troops and of vessels, and that in a little while, even as we speak, perhaps, Turkey may have joined in with Germany."
If Major Joe Douglas felt inclined to give vent to a shrill whistle of astonishment, for, after all, he was astonished—though this was a happening which he had expected now for many years past—he managed to suppress the wish very promptly. He contrived to go on bargaining and haggling with the old Jew for perhaps half an hour, and then, throwing down another piece of embroidered cloth and shaking his head, he passed from the stall and again along the Bazaar.
Some twenty yards higher up, when near the Turkish portion, he cannoned into a man of moderate height, dressed like himself in European clothing, a fat, very stoutly-built man, possessed of a head so closely cropped that it was hideous, and of a face from which sprouted a greyish-brown moustache, the centre of which was stained a darker colour by much cigarette-smoking. This individual wore a broad-brimmed panama upon his head, as a general rule, but at that moment carried it in one hand, and was fanning himself with energy.
"Pardon!" said the Major. "Sorry!"
"Ach! It vas you!"
Undoubtedly German, the stout individual into whom the Major had cannoned turned at first an angry face upon him, a face which a moment later was lit up by smiles and divided almost asunder by a capacious grin, stretching a most enormous mouth from ear to ear and disclosing two rows of stained and yellow teeth within it. Of a truth, the appearance of this individual was not altogether prepossessing; and yet, putting his yellow teeth aside, forgetting for one moment his huge and unwieldy proportions, and his smooth-cropped head and other undesirable features, the frank expression of his face, the broadness of his grin, even, were at once captivating.
"My tear Major!" he exclaimed, holding one fat hand up, palm foremost, while he still continued to fan himself with his panama. "My tear Major, and who would have thought to meet you here, you of all people!"
"Why, von Hildemaller!"
"Jah! Von Hildemaller! Dis is der greadest bleasure in mein life. Mein tear Major!"
The big, fat German stood back from the tall, sprucely-dressed, and brisk-looking English soldier, and surveyed him with a smile which would have melted the heart of the most implacable of enemies. Von Hildemaller was geniality itself, brimful of smiles and of friendliness; and, having mopped his streaming face and fanned himself again with his panama, he stretched out his broad palm and gripped the one which Major Douglas presented to him.
"My tear Major!" he exclaimed again, puffing heavily, for, to be sure, what with his own stoutness of figure, and the close and confined atmosphere within the Bazaar, the German was none too comfortable. "And to think dat you vas here of all der places in der world!" He held up his two hands now, the better to express his astonishment, while his twinkling and extremely merry eyes shot a swift, if not cunning, glance at the soldier.
"And you vas here long?" he demanded, mopping his face again with energy, and using for that purpose a huge handkerchief of Turkish red silk, which would have done duty at a pinch for a table-cloth. "Nein? Nod long, you say? Perhabs four, five, six days?"
The Major extracted his cigarette case from his pocket and offered it politely to the German, as if hinting at the same moment that questions were hardly to his fancy.
"And you?" he asked when von Hildemaller had helped himself and lighted up. "But there, what is the good of asking you, my friend, von Hildemaller? You are here to-day and gone to-morrow. One finds you in Bagdad perhaps, and then, within a week, in Constantinople; in Kut, or even in Basra. And, ah! you are such a busy man, von Hildemaller. Men, such as you, who purchase in such large quantities the dates grown in this country must be up and about, to make your businesses thrive."
Was there a cunning glint in those rather deep-sunk, small, yet merry eyes of the German? Did those two uneven rows of yellow teeth come together of a sudden with a snap indicative of annoyance? No, no! such a suggestion was entirely out of the question, for see, von Hildemaller was smiling most genially at this tall Briton.
"Ah! der you vas!" he told the Major, laughing uproariously. "It vas you who always liked to make der fun! 'Here do-day and gone do-morrow.' Ha! ha! you make me laugh! And you? And you, my tear Major, id is you who go here do-day and dere do-morrow, and you do nod even buy dades or oder produce of dis country."
Behind the cloud of smoke which he shot from between his thick lips, and sent bubbling out through his discoloured and drooping moustache, there was a cunning leer on the face of the German—a leer hidden a moment later by a smile transcending in its friendliness any that had gone before it. Fanning himself with his panama, and smoking violently the cigarette with which the Major had presented him, he stood in the centre of the Bazaar, careless of the obstruction he formed and of the difficulties he made for the passers-by, while he chatted with Teutonic eagerness with Douglas Pasha. And all the while, as he smiled and smirked, and sometimes leered, behind clouds of smoke, he was summing up the appearance, the height, the broad shoulders, the shapely figure, and the active limbs of the Englishman.
"Mein Gott! But if all my brothers were like him!" he told himself. "If all the subjects of the Kaiser were as tall, and as straight, and as slim, and as active! Then the thing would be done! There would be no doubt about it; the World would be surely conquered! But, pshaw! It will be done! The war-dogs are unleashed already, and though there is not much news as yet, though it is only Belgium which is already almost conquered, to-morrow, the next day perhaps, surely within a few hours of this, there will be news of the undoing of France and the capture of Paris. Himmel! And then?"
This breezy, stout, perspiring, and extremely genial fellow quite lost himself in a brown study as he reflected on the greatness of his own country and on the news of triumph which he anticipated.
Let us explain the case in regard to the jovial von Hildemaller—a man who knew the inside of Mesopotamia almost as well as Douglas Pasha did. After all, though he might be a trader in dates, as indeed he professed, he was still before all a German. A German in heart and in thought; a German, above all, in ambition. Was it likely that he had come to Mesopotamia for the single purpose of trading in dates alone? Bearing in mind the fact that practically no German has left the Fatherland for some foreign country for the single purpose of following his own fortune alone, one may take it for certain that, like all the others, von Hildemaller also went on a mission for his Government. He was one of that enormous band which practised peaceful penetration for the Kaiser, who went armed with Government funds to some desirable spot in some still more desirable country, and who there made for himself a business which gave ample excuse for his remaining in the country. Yet all the while he was engaged, with Teutonic energy, in looking well about him, in discovering the secrets of the country, in ascertaining its defences, and in sending sheaves of notes to his Home Government. Let us say at once that this von Hildemaller was none other than the stout and genial German whom Commander Houston had come upon in Basra—the one whom he had indicated as von Schmidt—and from the gallant Commander we have already learned that, genial, and smiling, and friendly though this German trader might be, and very charming to those with whom he came in contact—whether they were Britons or not—yet behind his guise of merchant he was indeed a Government Agent—an energetic, far-seeing, and most likely an unscrupulous agent—placed in Asiatic Turkey for the one purpose of informing the Kaiser and his war lords of the doings of the Turks, of the British, and of the Russians; and kept there, ostensibly as a merchant, but really as a spy, to foster the ambitious designs of his countrymen.
Did Douglas Pasha suspect this German? Did he realize that behind those smiling eyes and those wide curving lips there was a cunning brain and a lying tongue, ready to deceive and thwart him? If he did, he gave no indication of that fact. For he chatted easily, smiling back at the German in as friendly a manner as possible, apparently watching more closely the people passing to and fro in the Bazaar than the face and the figure of the man who had accosted him. It was with a hearty handshake and a friendly nod that he parted with the German, and went striding up through the Bazaar, past the hook-nosed Jew with whom he had appeared to bargain, and so on to the rooms he was occupying.
As for von Hildemaller, he tossed away the stump of the cigarette he had been smoking, and watched the departing figure of the British officer through half-closed lids, while he still panted and mopped his forehead. Then, thrusting his panama upon his shaven head, he looked craftily about him for a moment, and, having assured himself that no one in particular was watching him, lifted his right hand to his shoulder and made a sudden signal. A moment later a tall, sleek Turk slid up from an adjacent stall, and halted beside him:
"My master?" he asked, in the Turkish tongue.
"You saw him," demanded the German curtly, with that brutal abruptness common to the German. "That man—that Douglas Pasha—you saw the man?"
"I did. I watched and waited yonder. And then?" asked the Turk.
"Go and kill him, that's all! Go and slay the man!" von Hildemaller told him, turning upon his emissary just as friendly a smile as ever he had turned upon Joe Douglas. "There is no need to discuss the matter further, for you know the man and you have the method. Go then! When it is done come back to me and you shall be rewarded."
Who would have thought the worthy von Hildemaller capable of such words, or of giving such a dastardly order? Indeed, at the very moment when he was condemning the gallant Major to death by the hand of this Turkish assassin, the stout German looked so utterly genial, so entirely friendly and harmless, that none could possibly have suspected the real gist of his orders. Yet, as we have inferred already, behind those smiling, merry eyes, which looked so frankly and so honestly at people, there was a clever scheming brain, and behind those lips which were never stern, and seemed ever to be parted amiably, was a tongue given to much lying. Let us add, too, the fact that that brain was capable of inventing acts which would have shamed an Englishman, and of producing orders even more dastardly than that which had already been given. Indeed, there was no limit to the crimes which von Hildemaller could perpetrate, more particularly if they were for the ultimate benefit of his own country. With the smooth, smiling, genial face almost of a child, he was at heart a wretch, a cruel, scheming, cunning creature, an unscrupulous agent, capable of planning any atrocity. When that was said, we have von Hildemaller's full character, and we have merely to add that, like many of his kidney, when the planning was done, when the schemes for assassination and murder were arranged, the power for evil of this German suddenly subsided. He could scheme, but he lacked the courage to carry out his enterprise. His was the crafty brain which arranged the deed but contrived to get another to carry it out for him. Thanks to a Government which supplied him with ample funds, he could command in this country a host of ruffians. Pooh! The assassination of a British officer was quite a small matter, to be arranged on the spur of the moment, and to cost not so much as a second thought, and no great sum of gold when all was considered.
Von Hildemaller snapped his fingers and mopped his face again as the Turk sped away from him; then, lighting a German cigar, and puffing at it till he got it going to his satisfaction, he strolled—waddled rather—through the Bazaar, and on to his own quarters.
"Quite a nice sort of fellow, that Douglas Pasha!" he was telling himself as he went. "For a Briton, quite a respectable individual! Conceited? Yes! But then, that's a fault of the nation; but honest, clear-headed, I think, friendly and—yes—certainly—simple!"
"Simple!" did he say? If the worthy German, waddling through the Bazaar, could have seen Major Douglas at that moment, he might have had cause to reflect a little, and to change his opinion. For, though the gallant Major may have made pretence at simplicity when meeting the German, though he may have given the impression of being shallow, of being thoughtless, and of possessing not so much as an atom of cunning, yet Douglas Pasha had not travelled through Mesopotamia, had not met hosts of Germans, had not studied the history of Germany and her people, without learning many lessons. It was a habit of this gallant officer to study unconsciously the character of every individual with whom he came in contact, and thus it happened that the worthy von Hildemaller had, as it were, come under the microscopic examination of this British officer.
"Very charming, ahem! I am sure. A most excellent fellow to meet in a café, say on the Grand Boulevard in Paris, or in the Unter den Linden in Berlin. A generous host, a loud-speaking, merry fellow, but insincere, unscrupulous—like his people—out for something big, something to benefit his own country; to be carefully watched, and distrusted, and yet to be met in the most friendly manner possible."
That was the Major's summing-up of the excellent and cunning von Hildemaller; and now, as he took the nearest cut back to his own apartments in the city of Bagdad, apartments which he had occupied on more than one occasion, there was something in his face which, if the German could have seen it, would have warned him that Douglas Pasha was hardly so simple as he anticipated.
"Unfortunate meeting that German," Joe Douglas was telling himself as he hurried along. "Of course he knows just as well as I do that war has been declared between Great Britain and Germany, and that Turkey is likely to come into the conflict. That being the case, he and I are hardly likely to remain on speaking terms after this; indeed, he'll look upon me as a dangerous enemy, just as I look upon him. Shouldn't wonder if his hirelings are already watching me, and—yes—there are tales of the worthy Herr von Hildemaller which aren't too pleasant."
Rapping sharply on the door of his lodgings, he was admitted by an Armenian servant, and at once strode into his sitting-room. Throwing himself into a cane-seated chair and lighting a cigarette, he then rapped sharply on the table.
"Pack up," he ordered; "we leave in five minutes. Wait! What's that?"
Someone was rapping on the floor below them, someone who called in low tones for admission. Instantly Joe Douglas sprang to his feet, and, pulling the chair away, and the table, dragged a piece of Turkish carpet on one side, disclosing a narrow trap-door.
"Enter!" he called, and helped the person below who had demanded admission to raise the opening.
And slowly, as he did so, there emerged from a dark hole below, by means of a roughly-made ladder, the big, bony, angular form of that same hook-nosed Jew with whom he had haggled in the Bazaar not half an hour before.
"H-h-'sh! Listen, Excellency!" The man stood half in and half out of the opening, one warning talon held upward, his beady eyes fixed on Douglas Pasha, his lips trembling. "That man! That German hound! That scoundrel!"
The gallant Major was the very last individual to show alarm. In fact, fuss and worry were things he hated intensely, and his nonchalance on all occasions was something which long ago had attracted the admiration of his comrades. He still smoked on, and, throwing himself into his chair, and flinging his legs on the table, he smiled at the Jew and bade him proceed with the story.
"Yes, the German, von Hildemaller!" he said. "A most excellent gentleman! And you said beware, my friend, did you not? But surely——"
He gave vent to a laugh, an ironical laugh, which grated on the ears of those listening, and which warned them that, though the German may have considered this British officer to be childishly simple, he was yet well aware of the danger which surrounded him.
"Listen, Excellency!" said the Jew, emerging now completely from the chamber beneath the room in which Joe Douglas was seated. "I watched the scene from my stall. Long ago I warned Your Excellency that this German had no love for you, that his hirelings were watching you and dogging your steps, and that some day he would do you a mischief. Now the day has arrived! Even as you hurried away from that accidental meeting with him, I saw him call to one whom I know to be nothing but an assassin—a wretch—whose knife is at the bidding of anyone who can pay him money—one who should long ago have been hanged in the market-place. Leaving my stall, I followed this rascal, and saw him call to others. Even now they are arming, and, as dusk falls—which will be within an hour perhaps—they will break a way into this dwelling and carry out the purpose of this German."
Joe Douglas whistled, a merry whistle, and smiled in the most friendly fashion at the Jew. He even got up from his chair, still smoking, and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.
"My friend," he said, "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this warning; not this time alone, but on many occasions, have you proved a real friend to me, and may it be many a day before I forget your loyalty. But, as it happened, I guessed the intentions of our worthy friend von Hildemaller. Already I have given orders to pack up all my belongings, and soon, in a little while indeed, we shall be out of this place, leaving it to the hired assassins of the German."
There was bustle in that little house in the ten minutes which followed, all hands being engaged in packing the Major's belongings. Then, having completed the work to his satisfaction, the Jew and the Armenian servant of Douglas Pasha dragged his trunks through the opening down into the cellar beneath. Long before that, Joe Douglas had transformed himself into an absolute replica of the Jew who had come to warn him, and, indeed, looked the part to perfection. Then, casting a hurried glance round, and throwing the light from an electric torch into every corner—for already the dusk was falling, and the house opposite darkened that in which he had been living—he slid through the opening in the floor, and gently lowered the trap-door after him, having just before that dragged the table across it. Then the three made their way to the far edge of the cellar, and, ascending some steps, entered a narrow alley. There, at the bidding of the Major, his two companions went off to their left, while Joe Douglas made ready to venture into the open.
"You will go to the old quarters," he told them in a whisper, "while I see what is happening in the street yonder. To-night, as the moon rises, you will have a conveyance ready for me, and to-morrow we shall be well out in the desert."
But a minute before, Douglas Pasha, in spite of the rags with which he was now covered, was without doubt the tall British officer who had made his way into the heart of the city of Bagdad; but now, as the need to act up to his disguise arrived, he became transformed in a manner which was really remarkable. Leaning on a long, stout stick, his head and shoulders bent, and his legs tottering, he stumbled from the alley into the open street, and shuffled and clattered his way along past the door of his own dwelling. It was there that he almost collided, in the dusk, with three Turkish rascals, one of whom was preparing to break the door in with a crowbar. Yet the Jew took no notice of them, but stumbled past, muttering into the cloak which covered his head, talking to himself, and pulling his rags round him. A little farther on, less than a hundred yards, perhaps, he caught sight of a rotund and perspiring figure in a sunken doorway—a figure which was faintly illuminated by an oil lamp hanging in a passage opposite. It was the figure of von Hildemaller, who had crept to this spot to watch the doings of his hired assassins. Again it was characteristic of the Major that he halted in front of the man, careless of the consequences.
"Money! Money to buy food and lodging," he whined, holding out a shuddering, shaking hand, while his whole frame swayed and tottered. "Money, Excellency, to keep body and soul within me!"
"Money! Bah!" The German struck at him with the light cane he was carrying, and threw a glance of hatred and contempt after the tottering figure of the Jew as he retreated.
Then with wide-open ears he listened as the door of the house along the street was burst open, and waited breathlessly for news from his assassin. It was with a storm of rage and disappointment that he learned that the place was empty, that Douglas Pasha was gone, and that the scheme for ending his energies in Mesopotamia had been defeated.
Yet the cunning of this German was not always to meet with such ill success, for though Douglas Pasha contrived to escape from Bagdad that night, and made his way into the desert, there came a day when von Hildemaller traced him. Also there came a day when Douglas Pasha—a prisoner then, and none too well treated—contrived to get a message out of the Turkish fortress in which he was incarcerated. Even as Geoff Keith, and Philip, and Commander Houston braced themselves for a stiff engagement with the Turks aboard the steam-launch which had been pursuing them, that message was speeding down the Tigris towards the British forces. It was a request for help, but with no definite statement of the position where Douglas Pasha was imprisoned. And there were miles of desert country to traverse, and hundreds of enemies to pass, ere the messenger could bear his missive to our Head-quarters. It was a toss-up, indeed, as to whether the news of the Major's plight would ever reach his own people; just as it was a toss-up whether Geoff and his comrades would ever contrive to beat off the Turks who were about to assail them.