Easton soon found one of the few surviving officers of Edgar's troop.
"Can you tell me anything about Trumpeter Smith?" he asked. "I have reason to believe that he was a relative of a friend of mine, and that he ran away and enlisted under a false name."
"He bore an excellent character," the officer said. "He came to us from the Hussars at Cairo, and no one could behave better than he has done from the time he joined us. They would not have sent him to us if he hadn't been a thoroughly well-conducted young fellow. I was chatting with one of the officers of his regiment on the day we left Cairo; he spoke in very high terms of him, and said that he was quite a popular character in the regiment. It seems that he was a first-rate cricketer, and especially brought himself into notice by some exceedingly plucky conduct when two ladies belonging to the regiment wereattacked by a couple of tramps at Aldershot; and besides that he had greatly distinguished himself at El-Teb, where the Hussars got badly mauled. His name was amongst those sent in for the Victoria Cross, and he was specially chosen to go with us to give him another chance. I never heard a young fellow more warmly spoken of. We were awfully sorry when we heard that he was missing. There is no doubt he was with Sergeant Bowen whom your men brought in this morning. One of the two camels was the one he rode. We have been talking that over to-day, and the general opinion is that he was caught by the Arabs as he was trying to rejoin the regiment. It is a thousand pities he did not wait a little longer in that grove, but I have no doubt he was anxious to get assistance as soon as possible for the sergeant. I intend as soon as we are settled here to ask the colonel to let me go out with a party to search the plains to see if we can find his body."
"I am more inclined to think that he has been taken prisoner," Easton said; "he would hardly have gone out to meet the square, as he must have seen the plains swarming with Arabs and that he had no chance whatever of getting through. He would have known that we were making for the water, and that he would have a far better chance of reaching us by waiting until we got there. My own idea is that he did wait, and that the Arabs came upon him somewhere between that grove and our camp; if so, they did not kill him, for if they had done so we must have found his body to-day, for we searched every foot of the ground. I think that he is a prisoner in their hands."
"He had better have been killed at once," the officer said.
"I agree with you, except that it is just possible that a slave may escape. You see, on our way up to Khartoum if we defeat the Mahdi's troops—which we certainly shall do—all the country will no doubt submit, and there would be in the first place the chance of his being given up to us, and in the second of his escape."
"It is possible," the officer agreed, "but I certainly wouldnot build on that. The probability is that if he is taken prisoner he will be sent to the Mahdi, and if he isn't killed at once when he gets there, he will be when the Mahdi sees that his game is up."
Easton nodded, and then, thanking the officer for his information, took his way up to the village, where he repeated to Rupert what he had heard. His own voice faltered as he told the story, while Rupert sobbed unrestrainedly. When he had finished Rupert rose, pressed his hand silently, and then returning to his own bivouac threw himself down and thought sadly for hours over the loss of his brother.
The next day Rupert was busy from morning until night. A portion of the force was employed in strengthening the fortifications of the two posts, and a strong body was at work cutting wood for the use of the steamer in which Sir Charles Wilson was to start next morning for Khartoum. While at work they were guarded by another strong party, lest the enemy should make a sudden attack. All, however, passed off quietly, and on the following morning Sir Charles started with two steamers, taking with him twenty men of the Sussex regiment and one hundred and fifty of the black troops. On the same day three hundred troops selected from the various regiments started on camels, with four hundred baggage camels under their convoy, for Gakdul, in accordance with the orders given to General Stewart by Lord Wolseley at starting, that as soon as he had established himself upon the river he was to send back a convoy for some more stores.
The convoy was, however, but a small one, for of over two thousand camels which had left Korti, this number alone survived, and most of these were in such a state from exhaustion, starvation, and sore backs, that they were wholly unfit to travel. The force on the river was now reduced to some fifty officers and eight hundred and seventy men, including medical staff, commissariat, natives of all kinds, and the remainder of the black troops and one hundred and twenty wounded. Thedefences were greatly strengthened, officers and men both sharing in the work.
During the day the Hussars scouted round the camp, frequently exchanging shots with the enemy. At night strong lines of sentries were posted round the forts. No attack was, however, made, although the natives sometimes showed in considerable force during the day, and the beating of tom-toms went on day and night round Metemmeh. The hard work upon which the troops were engaged kept them for the most part in good health, and the wounded did extremely well, the doctors themselves being surprised at the rapidity with which wounds healed and the men recovered their strength, an effect doubtless due to the clear dry air.
The troops in the village enjoyed better health than those down by the river, as they obtained the benefit of the air from the desert, while down near the stream heavy dews fell at night and there were several slight cases of fever. All looked eagerly for the return of the steamers from Khartoum with news how things were going on there. As for their own position, no one had the slightest anxiety. No news had been received of the approach of the three thousand troops which had been reported as on their way down against them, and they felt confident in their power to repulse any attack that the enemy at Metemmeh could make against them. They were, too, in hourly expectation of the arrival across the desert of reinforcements from Korti.
Although Edgar had felt disappointed when the sounds of the firing round Metemmeh died away, and he knew by the triumphant shouts of the Arabs that the British hadretired, he had hardly expected that an attack would be made upon the town until reinforcements came up, and he consoled himself with the idea that within a few weeks at the utmost the reinforcements would arrive, and that if the Arabs remained in the town until that time he would be rescued. Two or three days later he heard a great hubbub just after nightfall in the streets outside. The Arabs who were in the court-yard snatched up their guns, and the din became louder than before.
Above the uproar Edgar could catch the words, "Death to the Kaffir!" and "Send him to the Mahdi!" and guessed that his own fate was the subject of dispute. Picking up one of the Arab swords he determined at least to sell his life as dearly as he could. For an hour his fate trembled in the balance. At times there were lulls in the tumult, while a few voices only, raised in furious argument, were heard. Then the crowd joined in again and the yells became deafening, and every moment Edgar expected to hear the clash of weapons, and to see the little party to which he belonged driven headlong into the house followed by the Mahdi's men. But he had before witnessed many Arab disputes, and knew that however furious the words and gestures might be they comparatively seldom came to blows, and though greatly relieved he was not altogether surprised when at last the uproar quieted down, and his captors returned into the court-yard and barred the door behind them.
In a short time an argument broke out, almost as furious and no less loud than that which had taken place outside. The sheik had evidently his own opinion and was determined to maintain it. Two or three of his followers sided with him, but the rest were evidently opposed to it. From the few words Edgar could catch in the din he gathered that the sheik was determined to carry him off as his own particular slave, while the bulk of his followers were in favour of handing him over to the Mahdi's officers. All Arabs are obstinate, but the sheik happened to be exceptionally obstinate and determined even foran Arab. Had the Mahdi's officers recognized his right to the captive, and offered him some small present in return for his slave, he would probably have handed him over willingly enough; but that they should threaten him, and insist on his handing over his property, was, he considered, an outrage to his dignity and independence.
Was he, an independent sheik, to be treated as if he were a nameless slave, and ordered to surrender his own to the Mahdi or anyone else? Never! He would slay the slave and stab himself to the heart rather than submit to be thus trampled on. If his followers did not like it they were free to leave him and to put on white shirts and follow the Mahdi; he could do without such men well enough. What would the Mahdi do for them? He would send them to be shot down by the Kaffirs, as they had been shot down at Abu Klea and outside the town, and someone else would possess their wives and their camels and their fields. If they liked that they could go, and he went to the gate, unbarred and threw it open, and pointed to the street. The effect was instantaneous. The Arabs had no desire whatever to become soldiers of the Mahdi, and they at once changed their tone and assured the sheik that they had no idea of opposing his wishes, and that whatever he said should be done, pointing out, however, that in the morning the Madhists would assuredly come and take the prisoner by force.
The sheik was mollified by their submission, and ordering Edgar to close and bar the gate again seated himself by the fire.
"By to-morrow," he said, "we will be far away. I am not a fool; I am not going to fight the Mahdi's army. As soon as the town is still we will make our way down to the river, take a boat, and cross. Two days' journey on foot will take us to the village where we sent our camels with the plunder and came on here to fight, believing, like fools, that the Mahdi was going to eat them up. We have seen whatcame of that, and they say that there are crowds more of them on the way. I am ready to fight; you have all seen me fight over and over again, and all men know that Sheik El Bakhat is no coward; but to fight against men who fire without stopping is more than I care for. They are Kaffirs, but they have done me no harm, and I have no vengeance to repay them. Fortunately we did not arrive till an hour after the fighting was over, or our bones might be bleaching out there in the desert with those of hundreds of others. It is the Mahdi's quarrel and not mine. Let him fight if he wants to, I have no objection. Why should I throw away my life in his service when even the slave we have captured is not to be my own."
As these sentiments commended themselves to his followers the sheik's plans were carried out.
The unfortunate trader and his wife, who had been cowering in a little chamber since the sheik and his party had unceremoniously taken possession of the rest of the house, were called in and informed that their guests were about to leave them, and were ordered to close the gate after them and on no account to open it until morning. The party then set to work to cook a large supply of cakes for the journey. A little before midnight they sallied out, and making their way noiselessly through the streets issued out near the river at a point where the walls that surrounded the other sides of the town were wanting.
There were several boats moored against the banks, and choosing one of them they allowed it to drift quietly down the river until some distance below the town, and then getting out the oars rowed to the other side of the river and landed below the large town of Shendy. They made a wide detour to get round the town, travelling at a long swinging trot that soon tried Edgar's wind and muscles to the utmost. He was not encumbered by much clothing, as before leaving he had been made to strip and to wrap himself up in a native cloth.Before he did so, however, he had been rubbed from head to foot with charcoal from the fire, for his captors saw that the whiteness of his skin, which greatly surprised them, for his face and hands were tanned to a colour as dark as that of many of the Arabs, would instantly betray him.
The perspiration was soon streaming from him at every pore, but he well knew that any display of weakness would only excite the contempt of his captors, and although he was several times well-nigh falling from fatigue he kept on until, when many miles away from Metemmeh, the natives slackened their pace and broke into a walk.
"I thought," Edgar muttered to himself, "that a good long run with the hares and hounds at Cheltenham was pretty hard work, but it was nothing to this. This climate does take it out of one and no mistake. There is one thing, I have got to get accustomed to it, and am not likely to try any other for some time."
They continued the journey until morning broke, and then turned off to the left, and after miles of walking halted among some sand-hills outside the zone of cultivated land. Edgar was ordered to go and find some fuel, for the morning was cold, and even the Arabs felt the keen air after their exertions. Edgar at once hurried away, and was fortunate enough to find some dried stalks of maize in a field not far off. Pulling it up by the roots he collected a large bundle and carried it on his shoulder to the point where he had left the Arabs. An exclamation of satisfaction greeted his arrival. The sheik produced a box of matches from a corner of his cloth, for European goods were obtainable in Metemmeh, and they had found several boxes in the house that they had occupied. A fire was soon blazing, and the Arabs squatted closely around it, while Edgar, tired out with his journey, threw himself on the ground some distance away.
The sheik was in high spirits; he was, in the first place, glad that he had had his way, and carried off his captive; and inthe second, he felt assured by the manner in which Edgar had kept up with them by the way, and by the speed with which he had collected the materials for a fire, that he would turn out a very useful slave. Before starting they had partaken of a good meal, and each of them had carried off a bag of five or six pounds in weight of dry dates from the merchant's store. A few of these were eaten, and then the whole party lay down to sleep, the sheik first rousing Edgar, and ordering him to lie down between him and another Arab, tying a cord from his wrists to theirs, so that he could not move without disturbing one or other of them.
A few hours' rest was taken, and then, with the sun blazing overhead, the journey was recommenced. They now kept among the sand-hills so as to avoid the villages near the river, in case a party should be sent out from Metemmeh in pursuit of them. Edgar had difficulty in keeping up with the rest, for the hot sand burned his naked feet, and he had to avoid the prickly grass through which his companions walked unconcernedly. They continued their journey until nightfall, and then went down to the river for a drink. Edgar had suffered greatly from thirst, which he had in vain endeavoured to assuage by chewing dry dates. His feet were causing him agony, and after satisfying his thirst he sat with them in the water until his companions again moved back into the desert.
Edgar could not obtain a wink of sleep for the pain of his feet, and in the morning he showed them to the sheik, who only laughed at their raw and swollen condition. As, however, he was desirous that his slave should continue in good condition, he told him to tear off a strip from his cotton cloth, and himself walked down to the river with Edgar. There he allowed him to again bathe his feet, and showed him some broad smooth leaves which he bade him gather; these were placed under his feet, which were then bandaged with the strip of cotton. As soon as this was done they returned to the party, and again set out.
Edgar found the application greatly relieved the pain, and as the leaves and bandages kept the feet from contact with the sand, he was able to get on fairly. He felt, too, the benefit from the drink of water he had obtained from the river, and was able to keep up with the party until, late in the afternoon, they approached the village where the natives had sent their camels.
Edgar was left in charge of two of the Arabs half a mile from the village when the others went on, the sheik saying that in the morning they were to await him half a mile on the other side of the village. There was a good deal of grumbling on the part of the men who were left with Edgar, and he saw that nothing would please them better than to cut his throat; but when they looked threatening towards him, he simply laughed, knowing that they dare not use their weapons, and that, did they venture to strike him with hand or stick, he was a match for both of them.
It was nearly two years now since he had stood up against the two tramps at Aldershot, and in that time he had grown from a lad to a powerful young fellow, with every muscle hardened by exercise. Perhaps the men concluded that the experiment was not worth trying, and presently left him to himself, and entered into an animated conversation together.
When it became dark they insisted on tying Edgar's legs, and to this he made no objection, for he understood that here they were only obeying the orders of the sheik. A few minutes later he was sound asleep, and did not wake once until he was roused by the Arabs stirring; they untied his feet, and at once started on their way. In less than half an hour they were at the spot the sheik had named; in a few minutes he came up with six of his men mounted on camels and four spare animals. The two Arabs and Edgar mounted three of these, and the journey was continued. They struck off from the river and journeyed all day among sand-hills, among which they camped for the night. They had brought water-skins with them, and Edgar received his share.
They started at daybreak again, and travelling the whole day came down at night upon a small village at a short distance from the river. Here the sheik had evidently friends, for he was warmly greeted as they entered. By the conversation at the camp on the previous evening Edgar had gathered that the rest of the party had gone off to villages to which they belonged in that neighbourhood, and that those with the sheik belonged to the village of Bisagra, near Khartoum, that word being frequently repeated. Before entering the village a short stay had been made, while some pieces of wood were burned, and Edgar was again rubbed over with charcoal.
When they arrived at the house at which the sheik intended to stop, Edgar was directed to follow him, while the rest looked after the camels. On entering the house he was told by the sheik to go into a little court-yard, where a negro presently brought him a dish of boiled meal and some water. He heard a great talk inside the house, but could understand nothing of what had been said. Half an hour later two of the Arabs came in, and lay down beside him as before, and in addition his feet were firmly tied. The next morning the party still further divided, the sheik with two men and Edgar starting alone.
He felt sure that they were now some distance above Khartoum, as the city lay less than eighty miles from Metemmeh; they had made, he calculated, fully fifteen the first night. They had walked at least five-and-twenty on the second, and had ridden thirty, he calculated, on each of the last two days. On these they had not, as he noticed by the sun, followed a straight course, going far to the east of south on the first day, and to the west of south on the second, having doubtless made a large detour to avoid the city. During the whole time they had been travelling over a trackless country, and had met no parties of natives on the way. They started again before daybreak, and now travelled along the bank of the river.
Here the country had been cultivated for some distance back, and villages were scattered here and there. Nevertheless they passed but few natives, and Edgar saw that many of the houses were roofless, and that there were signs of fire and destruction everywhere, and understood that this ruin had been wrought by the hosts of the Mahdi. About mid-day they arrived at a village on the bank. Its name, Edgar learned by the exclamations of the Arabs when they caught sight of it, was Gerada. Here a large native boat was lying moored. Bidding Edgar remain among the camels the sheik alighted, and was for half an hour engaged in bargaining with two men, who were apparently owners of the boat.
Terms were at last agreed to, the camels were led down and placed on board, and the boat pushed off. The sheik made a peremptory sign to Edgar to lie down and cover his head with his cloth, and Edgar heard him say to the boatman, "My slave is ill." The river was now at its shallowest, and the men were able to pole the boat across. Edgar was hurried ashore with the camels, while the sheik remained behind settling with the boatman. They were now, he knew, between the two Niles, which joined their waters at Khartoum. The country here had evidently been rich and prosperous before the host of the Mahdi passed like a blight over it. They halted a few miles from the river, near a ruined and deserted village. Edgar was told to watch the camels while they plucked heads of corn from the deserted fields, while the Arabs lit a fire and baked some cakes. None of these were offered to Edgar, who had to content himself with some heads of dried maize that he picked from the field.
Two days later they arrived at the bank of the White Nile. They followed it for upwards of a mile, and then the sheik, who evidently knew the way, turned off the bank into the river, the others following. The ford, for such it was, was shallow, the water scarcely coming up to the girths of the camels. Although the journey had been a short one, they halted again for the night in cultivated ground, a mile from the river, and Edgar was ordered to pick corn. The fields had already been ransacked, and it was only here and there that he found a head of maize hidden in its brown cases.
After a time the two Arabs joined in the search, and by nightfall a good-sized sackful had been collected. At daybreak the camels were taken to a well, where the apparatus for drawing the water still stood, with a trough beside it. When Edgar had filled the trough the camels were urged to drink their fill, being taken back once or twice to the trough, until they could drink no more. The water-skins were filled, the Arabs took long draughts from a bucket, and the sheik ordered Edgar to do the same. Then the bag with their maize was fastened on the back of the spare camel, which was already laden with a miscellaneous collection of goods, and the party started.
Edgar understood by the preparations that had been made that they had still a serious journey before them, and it proved to be so. For eight days they travelled across a desert, their course being to the north of west, marching from early dawn until sunset. The moment the day's journey was over he was set to work to gather tufts of coarse grass growing among the rocks, which cropped out here and there from the sand. Other vegetation there was none, save some low stunted bushes, which he also gathered whenever he came across them. With these and the grass a fire was lighted, and the sheik and two followers roasted a few heads of maize for their own eating, and with these and a handful of dry dates appeared perfectly satisfied.
After they had done Edgar was permitted to roast some maize for his own use. The camels had each a dozen heads given to them. Except at one halting-place, where there was a muddy well, they received no water; the Arabs themselves drank sparingly, and Edgar received but a mouthful or two of the precious fluid. Towards the end of the eighth day the Arabs began to hasten their camels, and soon afterwards, on mounting an eminence, Edgar saw some tents standing in a small greenvalley ahead. The Arabs fired their guns and uttered loud yells, and at once some figures appeared at the entrances of the tents and hastened towards them. In five minutes the two parties met. There were a few men among those that came out, but the majority were women and children. All uttered shouts of welcome, and a babel of questions arose.
The sheik did not alight from his camel, but with his followers continued his way until he reached the encampment. Here dismounting he entered one of the largest of the tents. The other two Arabs were surrounded by the natives, and Edgar stood by the camels doubtful as to what he was expected to do next. He was not left undisturbed long. The Arabs had evidently told the news that their black comrade was a white slave whom the sheik had captured, and all crowded round him examining him with the greatest curiosity. There was nothing to them remarkable about his colour, for he was darker than any of them; but his hair, closely cropped like that of all engaged in the expedition, evidently amused them much.
One of the women quickly fetched a large gourd full of water, and made signs to him to wash himself, which he was glad enough to do after his four days' dusty journey, but before commencing he plunged his face into the bowl and took a long drink. Shouts of surprise and amusement arose as with diligent rubbing he gradually got rid of the thickest part of the charcoal, and his skin began to show through.
"I wish to goodness," he muttered to himself, "I had got a cake or two of soap here, but I suppose it is a thing that they never heard of; even a scrubbing-brush would be a comfort. I shall be weeks before I get myself thoroughly white again; it is completely ground into my skin."
He had, however, managed to get rid of the greater part of the charcoal, and was from the waist upward a dingy white, when the sheik came out from his tent. He was followed by a good-looking Arab woman. He called Edgar to him and said, "This is your mistress." Edgar had during the journey guessedthat he was intended as a special present for the sheik's wife, and that his lot would depend in no slight degree upon her, and resolved to do his utmost to earn her good opinion. He therefore bent on one knee, and taking her hand placed it on his head. The woman laughed good-naturedly, and said something to the sheik which by its tone Edgar felt was an expression of approval.
The camels had all this time remained kneeling, and the sheik now ordered them to be unloaded. Edgar had wondered what the various bundles might contain, and looked with almost as much curiosity as the expectant Arabs at the process of opening them.
As their contents were gradually brought to light, he understood at once why the sheik and his followers had taken no part in the fight outside Metemmeh. They had evidently been far out in the desert, on the track the column had followed, on the search for loot. The collection was a singular one, and it appeared to Edgar that they must either have got hold of three or four of the camels that had strayed away from the column, or had followed the troops and rifled boxes and cases that had fallen from the backs of the animals on their way through the trees, or that had been left behind when the camels fell.
Here were articles of clothing of all sorts—shirts, socks, karkee suits, boots, ivory-backed brushes (the property, no doubt, of some officer of the Guards or Heavies), a hand-glass, a case of writing materials and paper, a small medicine-chest, some camp-kettles, two or three dozen tins of cocoa and milk and as many of arrow-root, scores of small tins of Liebig (these three lots clearly forming part of the burden of one of the hospital camels), a handsome field-glass, an officer's sword without a scabbard, a large bundle of hospital rugs, a tin-box marked "tea, 10 lbs.," a number of tin drinking-cups, plates, knives, forks, and spoons, and a strange collection of odds and ends of all sorts.
Each article that was taken out caused fresh excitement, its uses were warmly discussed, and Edgar was presently dragged forward and ordered to explain. The various articles of clothing particularly puzzled the Arabs, and Edgar had to put on a shirt and pair of trousers to show how they should be worn. The chocolate and arrow-root had apparently been brought chiefly for the sake of their tins, and one of the Arabs illustrated their use by putting one of them down on a rock, chopping it in two with his sword, cleaning out the contents, and then restoring as well as he could the two halves to the original shape. Some of the children were about to taste the arrow-root scattered about the ground, but the sheik sharply forbade them to touch it, evidently thinking that it might be poison. Edgar was consulted, and said that the contents of all the tins were good.
As they were evidently anxious to know their uses, he took one of the tin pots, filled it with water, and placed it over the fire. Then with one of the Arabs' knives he opened a tin of chocolate, cutting it carefully round the edge so that it should make a good drinking tin when empty. When the water boiled he took out some of the contents of the tin with the spoon and stirred them into the pot, and poured the contents into a dozen of the cups. The sheik still looked a little suspicious, and ordered him to drink one first, which he did with deep satisfaction. The others then followed his example, and evidently approved very highly of the compound, and another pot of water was at once placed on the fire. Edgar was then requested to show what were the virtues of the white powder, and of the little tins. He said that both these were good for people who were ill. The Arabs, however, were not satisfied without making the experiment.
The arrow-root was not approved of, and the chief would have ordered the tins to be all opened and the contents thrown away, but on Edgar continuing to insist that they were good for illness, he told his wife to put them away in the tent. TheLiebig was warmly approved of. Edgar explained that it was good for sickness, and good for a journey. The Arabs, seeing how small a quantity was required for making a tin of broth, at once recognized this, and the sheik ordered his wife to take great care of them, and said they were to be used only on a journey. The medicine-chest, with its bottles of various sizes, was also the subject of great curiosity, and one of the women, going into a tent, brought out a girl seven or eight years old, and requested Edgar to say which was the medicines that were suitable for her case.
Edgar felt the child's pulse, and found that she was in a high state of fever. Quinine was, he knew, a good thing for fever, but whether it ought to be administered to a patient in that stage he did not know. He told the sheik that he was not a Hakim, but that if he wished he would give the child the medicine that he thought was best suited to it, but he could not say for certain whether it would do it good. The sheik, who, like all the rest, was deeply interested in the contents of the chest, said he must do his best. He accordingly gave the child a dose of quinine, and told the mother to give her a cup of the arrow-root, and that in two hours she must take another dose of the quinine.
The last subject of investigation was the tea. There was a small sliding trap at the top of the tin, and when Edgar poured out half a cup of the contents, these were examined with great curiosity. The men took a few grains in their fingers, smelt them, and then tasted them. The result was unsatisfactory, and they were content to watch Edgar's proceedings before they went further. When he had the water boiling, he put the tea into a tin pot and poured the water over it, and when it had stood a few minutes served it out. The verdict was universally unfavourable, and the chief, in disgust at having brought a tin of useless stuff so far, kicked it over and over. Seeing that Edgar had drunk up his portion with satisfaction, the sheik's wife told him that if he liked the nasty stuff he mightkeep it for himself, a permission of which he very thankfully availed himself.
The uses of all the articles being explained, the sheik proceeded to a distribution. He took the lion's share for himself, gave a good portion to the two men who had followed him, and a very small one to each of the other grown-up men and women in the camp. He ordered Edgar to carry his portion into the tent, where, under the instructions of the sheik's wife, the articles were all stowed away. The tent, which was a large one, was constructed of black blanketing woven by the women from camels' hair, and was divided into two portions by a hanging of the same materials. The one next to the entrance was the general living and reception room, that behind being for the use of the sheik's wife and children.
There were two female slaves who slept in a tiny tent constructed of a blanket in the rear of that of the sheik, and two negro slaves who looked after the camels, tilled the ground, and slept where they could.
The sheik's wife was evidently pleased with Edgar, and regarded him as her special property. Darkness had fallen long before the examination of the booty had concluded, and as soon as he had carried the sheik's share into the tent, she gave him a bowl of camel's milk and some meal in a gourd, and also bestowed on him one of the black blankets, and pointed out to him a place where he was to sleep just outside the tent.
"It might be a great deal worse," Edgar said to himself as he ate his supper; "the sheik himself does not seem to be a bad fellow; and at any rate I owe him my life for his obstinacy in sticking to me, instead of handing me over to the Mahdi's people. His wife is evidently disposed to be kind, and my work will be no harder than an agricultural labourer's, at any rate as long as we stay here. This is an out-of-the-way sort of place, and if it does not lie on the route between any two places, is not likely to be much visited. It certainly looksas if the sheik regarded it as his private property, which he would not do if it were a regular caravan halting-place.
"It is likely enough that there are very few people who know of its existence. We travelled something like fifty miles a day, and must be three hundred miles to the west of the Nile. What I have got to do now is to work willingly, so as to keep in the good graces of the sheik and his wife, and to learn the language so as to speak it fluently. It is no use my thinking about escaping until I can pass as a native, unless, of course, I hear that we have gone up and taken Khartoum. I wonder how they are getting on at Metemmeh, and whether they have found the sergeant. If they have, it is likely enough when he finds that I have never reached the camp he will go to Rupert and tell him who the trumpeter of his troop was. I hope he won't; it is much better that they should wonder for some years what has become of me, and at last gradually forget me, than know that I am a slave among the Arabs. I am sure that would be a great grief to them all, and I hope they will not know anything about it until I return some day and tell them."
He was very glad of his blanket, for the nights were cold; and when he had finished his supper he wrapped himself up in it and was soon asleep. He was awoke at daylight by voices inside the tent, and a few minutes later the sheik and his wife came out, and seeing Edgar standing there the sheik ordered him to go and assist the other slaves; but Amina pouted: "I thought you had brought him home as a present to me; what use will he be to me if he is to work in the field all day with the others?"
"But the Kaffir must do some work, Amina; he cannot have his food for nothing."
"Of course he shall work when I don't want him," the woman said, "but I shall find much for him to do. He will draw the water, he will fetch the fuel, he will grind the meal when I have anything else for the women to do. When hehas done all I require of him, then he can go and work in the fields. It is no use your giving me a slave and then taking him away again."
"Well, well!" the sheik said, "do with him as you will; women are always pleased with novelties. You will soon get tired of having this Kaffir about the tent, but keep him if you will."
Amina took one of the large hospital kettles, and putting it into Edgar's hands pointed to the well which lay a hundred yards away and told him to fetch water. When he returned with it she bade him go out and gather fuel. The last order was by no means easy to execute. The Arab fuel consisted almost entirely of dried camels' dung, as the scrub very speedily becomes exhausted for a considerable distance from a camp. Edgar took a rough basket to which Amina pointed and was away for some hours, following the track by which he had arrived and making a circuit of the oasis, and returned with the basket piled up with the fuel.
Amina was evidently well satisfied with the result of his work, for fuel is one of the great difficulties of Arab life in the desert. She rewarded him with a calabash of meal.
"Has my lady anything more for me to do?" he asked when he had finished his food.
"Not now," she replied.
"Then I will go out and help the others in the field;" and he walked off to where the negroes were engaged in watering a plantation of maize. The process consisted of drawing water from the well in leathern buckets and pouring it into channels by which it was conducted to the plantation. The negroes looked at him sourly as he took hold of the rope attached to the long swinging beam that acted as a lever to bring the bucket to the surface, and one of them muttered in Arabic, "Kaffir dog!" Slaves as they were they despised this white Christian.
"Well, look here," Edgar said in English, letting go therope, "the sooner we come to an understanding the better. I am not going to stand any nonsense from you fellows; and if you don't keep a civil tongue in your heads I will give you such a licking as will teach you to do so in future."
Although they did not understand his words they guessed the import of them, and the biggest of the men, a powerful negro, repeated the word Kaffir and spat upon him. Edgar's right arm flew out from his shoulder, the blow struck the negro on the nose, and in an instant he was upon his back upon the ground. His comrade stood for a moment stupefied, and then with loud yells ran towards the tents, leaving the negro to pick himself up at his leisure. Edgar continued the work of raising and emptying the bucket until the negro returned, followed by the sheik, his wife, and all the inhabitants of the village. By this time the negro who had been knocked down had risen to his feet and was roaring like a bull at the top of his voice, while the blood was streaming from his nose.
"What is this?" the sheik shouted in great anger.
The negro volubly explained that the Kaffir slave had struck down their comrade.
"Why is this?" the sheik demanded of Edgar.
"I am my lord's slave," Edgar said; "but this fellow is a slave also. He called me a Kaffir dog and spat upon me. I knocked him down; and if any other slave does the same I will punish him also."
As the woman whose child had been ill had a short time before reported that the fever had left her, and that having drunk two basins of the arrow-root she was much better, the sheik had been greatly pleased with the idea that he had made a far more valuable capture than he had anticipated; he therefore received Edgar's explanation in his broken Arabic favourably.
"The white slave has done right," he said. "Who are you that you are to insult him? He came to work on my business,and you would have interfered with and hindered him. Hamish has been rightly punished, though truly the white man must have hit hard, for his nose is flattened to his face. Mashallah it must have been a wonderful blow. The white men are Kaffirs, but they have marvellous powers. Now go to work again and let me hear of no more quarrels."
"The white man is my slave," Amina said, stepping forward and addressing the negroes, "and if anyone insults him I will have him flogged until he cannot stand. He is a Hakim, and his medicines have saved the life of Hamid's child. He is worth a hundred of you." And bestowing a vigorous and unexpected box on the ears to the negro standing next to her she turned and walked back to her tent, accompanied by her husband, while the rest of the villagers remained for some time staring at the negro, and commenting upon the wonderful effect of the white man's blow.
No sooner was work over in the afternoon of the day after that on which Rupert had heard of his brother's loss than Skinner came across with Easton to see him.
"My dear Skinner, surely you are not fit to be walking about," he said as he saw them approaching.
"Oh! it won't do me any harm, Clinton; my arm is all in splints, and, as you see, bandaged tightly to my side. The doctor seemed to say that I had better not move, but I promised to take care of myself. I should have come, old man, if I had been ten times as bad. Easton has just been telling me of this horrible business, so of course I came over to see you. I think from what he says you take too dark a view ofit. There is no doubt in my mind that he is a prisoner, and that is bad enough; but these Arabs don't slaughter their prisoners in cold blood, they are not such fools as that, they make them useful. I own it must be disgusting to be a slave, especially to these Arabs, and of many fellows I should say they would never stand it any time. Easton wouldn't, for example. In the first place he wouldn't work, and in the next place, if they tried to make him he would be knocking his master down, and then of course he would get speared. But I have great hopes of your brother; he was always as hard as nails, and I should have no fear of his breaking down in health. Then he is a chap that can look after himself. Look how well he has been going on since he bolted from Cheltenham. Then he is a beggar to stick to a thing, and I should say the first thing he will make up his mind to do will be to escape some day, and he will be content to wait any time till the opportunity occurs. You see he has learnt a lot since he left school. He has been roughing it pretty severely. He has had over a year in this beastly hot climate, and will be able to make himself at home pretty near anywhere. I tell you, Clinton, I would lay odds on his turning up again even if he is left to himself. Besides that, if we go on to Khartoum and thrash the Mahdi, these Arabs will all be coming in and swearing that they are most grateful to us for freeing them from him, and you may be sure that any slaves they have will be given up at once. I don't say your brother is not in a hole; but I do say that he is just the fellow to get out of it."
"I have thought of everything you say, Skinner, and I do think that Edgar is as likely to make his escape some day as anyone would be under the circumstances; but I doubt whether anyone could do it."
"Why not?" Skinner asked, almost indignantly. "I don't suppose he could make his way down the Nile, although he might do that; but there are several caravan routes down tothe Red Sea, and then there is Abyssinia. The people are Christians there, and, they say, fighting against the Mahdi's Arabs now; so if he got there he would be pretty sure to be treated well. I should say that there were lots of ways that he could escape. I don't mean now; but when he has got accustomed to the country, it seems to me a fellow with pluck and energy such as he has got ought to find no great difficulty in giving the people he is with the slip, and making his way somewhere. I do think, Clinton, there is no occasion to feel hopeless about your brother. It may be a long time before you see him again, but I do honestly believe he will turn up some time or other."
"I begin to hope he will," Rupert said. "At first I did not think so for a moment; but now I have had time to look at it calmly I think that there is a chance of his getting off some day; besides, when we are once at Khartoum and have scattered the Mahdi's army, I have no doubt General Gordon will send orders through the land for all Egyptian and European slaves to be brought in. You know it is still hoped that some of Hicks' officers may be alive, and there is such a feeling for Gordon throughout the country that his orders will be sure to be obeyed."
"That is right, Clinton," Easton said; "that is the view I take of it myself, and I am very glad to see that you have come to see it in that light. And now will you tell us what there was in that letter that gave us the news of your brother's being out here. How came the sergeant to write to you? How did he know you were his brother? It seems an unaccountable business all through."
"I have not looked at the letter since," Rupert said. "It would have been very important if it had not been for Edgar's loss. As it is, it does not seem to matter one way or the other. Still, as you say, it is very singular altogether its coming into my hands;" and he took out the letter. It began: "Sir, two days ago I was with the trumpeter of my troopwhen you passed by with two other officers. One of them called you Clinton, and as I had an interest in the name it attracted my attention, and I found that it also attracted the attention of the young fellow with me. I questioned him, and he acknowledged that he had been to school with you and the two officers with you."
"Good heavens!" Skinner broke in; "to think that we three should have passed close to your brother and that none of us should have recognized him! How awfully unfortunate!"
"It is terrible to think of now," Rupert agreed, and then continued reading the letter: "I then told Smith, which is the name the trumpeter went by, that my interest in you consisted of the fact that for aught I knew I was your father. He exclaimed, that in that case it was probable that I was his father, as he had been brought up with you. He then told me how he came to enlist, namely, that my wife, whom I have not seen since she left India, and who was, I thought, dead long ago, had been to him and had told him all about the change of infants, and said that she had done it on purpose for his good, and that she knew that he was her son because you had a mole on your shoulder; and she wanted him to go on pretending to be Captain Clinton's son, and offered to swear that the other one was hers, so that he might get all the money.
"That is why I write this. My name is Humphreys. I was a sergeant in the 30th, and it was at Agra, when we were stationed there, that the change of infants took place. My wife went over to England. I took to drink and disgraced myself, and five years afterwards deserted. I stayed in England for some years and then enlisted again in the 5th Dragoon Guards, and being young-looking gave my age as eight years younger than I was. I now go by the name of Bowen, and am a sergeant and bear a good character in the regiment. The lad did not wish me to say anything about this, at any rate until the campaign was over; but as we shall be marching in a dayor two, and it may be that I shall be killed, I write a letter to you and one to Captain Clinton, so that in case I am killed the truth may be known.
"I affirm most solemnly that the statement made by my wife was a lie. Whether she did intend to change the children or not is more than I can say. Sometimes she said she did, sometimes she said she didn't; but at any rate, she herself did not know which child was which, and did not discover the little mark on the shoulder until after the babies got mixed up. Over and over again I have seen her cry and wring her hands because she could not say which was which. She acknowledged that she meant to make money out of it, and lamented that she had lost her chance because she could never herself tell which was which. Of this I am ready to take my oath in any court of justice, and if she says she knows now, she is a liar. I have read this letter over to Troop-sergeant Matthews, and have in his presence sworn on a Bible to its truth. He will place his name by the side of mine as witness to that and to my signature. I remain, your obedient servant, John Humphreys, now known as John Bowen. The letter to your father is word for word the same as this. I have written it in duplicate in case you should be killed before I am."
"Well, that is plain enough," Easton said when Rupert had finished. "It is just what you said all along. The woman did not know which was her son, and you and Edgar stand in the same relation to Captain Clinton that you always did."
"Thank God for that!" Rupert said. "We want no change, and my father has said, talking it over with me again and again, he has two sons and loves us both equally, and it would be a deep grief to him now to know for certain that one of us is not his son. I will walk across to the hospital and ask how the sergeant is going on. I am strangely placed towards him now."
"It is a curious position," Easton said; "but in any case you do but stand towards him as a son would do towards a fatherwho had given him up in infancy to be adopted by someone else."
Rupert did not reply, but, saying, "Wait here until I come back," walked over to the hospital lines. He returned in a few minutes.
"The doctor says he is sinking," he said gravely. "I shall go over there and remain until all is over."
"Will he be sensible at the last?" he asked the surgeon as he stood by the litter.
"Possibly," the surgeon said.
"I have a great interest in asking, doctor; I am most anxious to have a few words with him if possible before he dies."
"If you will call me if he opens his eyes," the surgeon said, "I will do what I can to rouse him. His pulse is getting weaker and weaker; I do not think the end is far off."
Half an hour later the dying man opened his eyes. Rupert beckoned to the surgeon, who came across at once and poured a few drops of spirits between his lips, and moistened his forehead with a sponge dipped in vinegar and water.
"Do you know me, Humphreys?" Rupert asked. "I am Rupert Clinton."
The dying man's face brightened. Then his lips moved. "Where is Smith? He left me to get help; he never returned."
"He is away now," Rupert said, anxious not to disturb the dying man. "When we got to you you were insensible, that was two days ago. Edgar is not in camp at present."
"There is a letter for you."
"Yes, it was found on you and I have read it, and I know how we stand towards each other, and that perhaps you are my father; here is the letter."
"I will swear to it; get a witness."
Rupert called the surgeon. "Doctor, the sergeant wishes you to hear him swear that this letter was written by him and that its contents are true."
"Bible," the sergeant said faintly.
A Bible was brought and the dying man's hand placed upon it. "I swear," he said in a firmer voice than that in which he had hitherto spoken, "that this letter was written by me and that every word in it is true, and that neither I nor my wife, nor anyone save God, knows whether Trumpeter Smith or Lieutenant Clinton is my son."
The effort was made and he closed his eyes. Rupert took his hand and knelt beside him. Once again the sergeant opened his eyes and spoke. "Good lads both," he said; "better as things are."
A few minutes later he ceased to breathe. The surgeon had retired after hearing the sergeant's declaration. When he saw Rupert rise to his feet he came up to him. "I have just written down the words," he said, "and have signed my name as a witness to the fact that it was a declaration sworn on the Bible by one who knew that he was dying."
"Thank you," Rupert said; "it is a strange story, I will tell you it some day."
After leaving the hospital Rupert went to Easton, in whose judgment he had a great deal of confidence, and after stating what had occurred asked him if in his opinion he could take any steps to learn more about Edgar.
"I think, Clinton, that were I in your place I should go to the commanding officer and tell him you have learnt that the trumpeter who was with the wounded sergeant of the Heavies found in the grove, and who left him to fetch aid from our camp, was your brother. You can say that on account of a misunderstanding he left home and enlisted under a false name, and beg that a search be instituted for his body, and also that the politicals who are in communication with the natives should make inquiries whether any white captive had been brought into Metemmeh. If you like I will say as much to our colonel, and I am sure that he will give orders that whenever detachments go out strict search will be made of all ground over which they pass. I am afraid that if we do learn from the natives that heis at Metemmeh our chance of getting him back before we take the place is small, for even if the people into whose hands he fell were willing to part with him for a ransom, the fanatical dervishes would not allow it; however, there would be no harm in trying. I know that to-day half a dozen natives came in with some cattle and grain, and no doubt some others will be in to-morrow."
Rupert took the advice, and at once went over to the quarters of the officer in command and made the statement that Easton had suggested. The colonel expressed great regret, and promised that every step should be taken to ascertain the fate of his brother and to endeavour to recover him if alive. Another party was sent out in the morning, and a further and most minute search made of the ground between the camp and the grove where the sergeant had been found, and the 19th Hussars were directed while scouring the plain to search every depression and to examine every clump of bushes to discover if possible the body of a missing soldier or any signs of his clothes or accoutrements. The political officer closely questioned all the natives who came in, but these came from villages higher up the river, and no news was obtained of what was going on at Metemmeh. The next day there was a great outburst of firing in Metemmeh, guns and cannon being discharged incessantly for two or three hours. At first it was thought that some dispute might have arisen between the various tribes now occupying the place, but this idea was abandoned when it was seen that the cannon on the walls were discharged not into the town but towards the open country, and it was then concluded that some great festival of the Mahdi was being celebrated. The following day was Sunday. Just as the troops were being formed up for a church parade a staff officer came up to Rupert and his fellow aides-de-camp as they were buckling on their swords.
"Is anything wrong, major?" Rupert asked, as he saw that the officer was much agitated.
"Yes, we have terrible news. A boat has just come down from Wilson with the news that he arrived too late; that Khartoum has fallen, and that Gordon is murdered."
An exclamation of horror broke from the two young officers.
"Do you think it is true, major?"
"I fear there is no doubt of it. The steamers got up to the town, and the Mahdi's flags were flying everywhere, and the vessels were peppered with shot from all the batteries. There is other bad news. Wilson's steamers both ran aground, and cannot be got off. Beresford is to go up and bring the party off, that is, if he can fight his way past the batteries. You see, that is what the firing in Metemmeh yesterday was about. No doubt a messenger had arrived from the Mahdi with the news of the fall of Khartoum. Don't say anything about it. Of course the news will not be kept from the officers, but it is to be kept from the men as far as possible."
Feeling almost stunned with the news, Rupert and his companions joined the rest of the staff and proceeded to the parade-ground. An hour after the service had concluded the terrible intelligence was known to all the officers. The feelings of grief, indignation, and rage were universal. All their efforts and suffering had been in vain, all the money spent upon the expedition entirely wasted. Gordon and his Egyptian garrison at Khartoum had perished, and it seemed not unnatural that the authorities at home should be blamed for the hesitation they had displayed in sending out the expedition to rescue the heroic defenders. Even at the last moment, they had countermanded their orders for the purchase of camels, which, had they been available, would have enabled General Stewart's desert column to march straight across, instead of being obliged to send the camels backwards and forwards; and in that case the steamers would have arrived in time to save Gordon, for it was but two days before they reached Khartoum that the town had fallen.
Never was an expedition so utterly useless, never did bravemen who had fought their way through all difficulties find their efforts so completely vain!
The news could not long be kept from the men. The words of passionate grief and indignation that burst from their officers were soon caught up and carried through the camp, and the rank and file joined with their officers in a wholesale denunciation of those who were responsible for this disaster which had suddenly overtaken the expedition. The future was warmly debated among the officers. Some maintained that the expedition having come so far, the money having been laid out, it would be allowed to finish its work, to proceed to Khartoum, to recover the city, crush the Mahdi, and restore peace and order to the Soudan. Others asserted that after this failure to carry out the main object of the expedition, the authorities at home might now hasten to withdraw an expedition which they had only with apparent reluctance sent out at all. Rupert feared that the latter alternative was the most probable, and with it his hopes of seeing his brother before long were dashed to the ground.
It was maddening to think that he was lying a helpless prisoner in the hands of the Arabs in the mud-walled town but two miles away; for it was now probable that the force would march back, and Edgar be left to his fate. Easton and Skinner in vain attempted to cheer him. They had, however, no arguments to combat his conviction that the expedition would be abandoned, and could only fall back upon their belief that sooner or later Edgar would manage to make his escape from the hands of the Arabs. To Rupert's distressed mind this was poor consolation.
Lord Charles Beresford at once started up the river in a small steamer to rescue Sir Charles Wilson's party. As it was known that there was a strong battery below the spot where the steamers had been lost, and that Beresford would have to run the gauntlet of this on his way up, much anxiety was felt as to the result, and a constant and eager watch was kept up for asight of the steamer on her return. When the time came that she was expected to make her appearance, and no signs were visible of her, the anxiety heightened; and when another day passed, and still she did not return, grave fears were entertained for her safety. At last the welcome news came that smoke could be seen ascending from the river higher up, and loud cheers burst from the men when the flag at the masthead was seen above the trees.
There was a general rush down to the shore of all who were not on duty to hear the news when she arrived; and when she drew up near the bank and the first party landed, it was found that her escape had been a narrow one indeed. In passing the battery she had had a sharp engagement with the artillery there, and a shot had passed through her boiler and disabled her, and she had been obliged to anchor. Fortunately she was a little above the battery when this took place. The guns could not well be brought to bear upon her; and although assailed by a constant fire of musketry, her own guns, her Gardner, and the rifles of the troops had kept the enemy at a distance and prevented them from shifting any of their guns so as to play upon her, until an officer of the Naval Brigade, who was acting as her engineer, had managed to repair the boiler.
While the fight was going on Sir Charles Wilson's party were upon an island, near which the second steamer had sunk, two miles higher up the river, and were hotly engaged with a force upon the bank. They were able to see that the rescuing steamer was disabled, and at night had crossed to the river bank, and marching down it to a point opposite the steamer, opened communication with her by signals, and then did what they could to divert the attention of the enemy from her by opening fire upon the battery with one of their guns, causing the enemy to turn two or three of his pieces of artillery against them. At nightfall they marched down the river to a point where the steamer had signalled she would pick them up. The steamerran past the battery in the morning and fortunately escaped without serious injury, and then picking up the whole of Sir Charles Wilson's party came down the river without further molestation.