Captured at Tripoli: A Tale of Adventure

by Percy F. Westerman

  Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen

  cover art]

  Captured at Tripoli

  BY PERCY F. WESTERMAN

  _Crown 8vo, cloth extra. Illustrated_

  Captured at Tripoli: A Tale of Adventure. _2s. 6d._

  "We cannot imagine a better gift-book than this to put into the handsof the youthful book-lover, either as a prize or present." --Schoolmaster.

  The Quest of the "Golden Hope": A Seventeenth-century Story ofAdventure. _2s. 6d._

  "The boy who is not satisfied with this crowded story must bepeculiarly hard to please."--Liverpool Courier.

  A Lad of Grit: A Story of Restoration Times. _2s. 6d._

  "The tale is well written, and has a good deal of variety in thescenes and persons."--Globe.

  LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, LTD., 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C.

  "'WHY, IT'S THE RIVER!' EXCLAIMED GERALD"Frontispiece]

  Captured at Tripoli

  A Tale of Adventure

  BY

  PERCY F. WESTERMAN

  Author of "The Quest of the Golden Hope""A Lad of Grit" &c.

  _ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES M. SHELDON_

  BLACKIE AND SON LIMITEDLONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY

  Contents

  CHAP. I. OFF TO THE SEAT OF WAR II. UNDER FIRE III. PRISONERS IV. THE SHEIKH'S SALT V. THE SANDSTORM VI. THE ESCAPE VII. THE FIGHT IN THE DESERT VIII. A DISCOVERY IX. THE MIRAGE X. CHALLENGED XI. THE MEDIAEVAL CITY XII. SIR JEHAN DE VALX XIII. THE MOSLEM HOST XIV. THE DASH FOR THE GUN XV. THE STRUGGLE AT THE BREACH XVI. SIR JEHAN'S SUCCESSOR XVII. THE FLIGHT FROM CROIXILIA XVIII. REEVES'S RUSE XIX. THE PERILS OF THE RIVER XX. RUNNING THE LAST GAUNTLET

  Illustrations

  "'WHY, IT'S THE RIVER!' EXCLAIMED GERALD" Frontispiece

  THE APPROACH OF THE MONOPLANE

  THE CITY OF CHARLETON

  THE SECOND GUN TEST

  A GOOD SHOT

  CAPTURED AT TRIPOLI

  CHAPTER I

  Off to the Seat of War

  "WELL, we've seen something of the fun," exclaimed Hugh Frazer, asthe last of the 89th Regiment of Infantry filed through thejealously-guarded gateway of the Naval Yard at Naples. "Come on,let's get back to the front, and we may see the transports leave thebay."

  Hugh Frazer and his stanch companion, Gerald Kit-by, were stayingwith the former's parents at the Hotel des Etrangers. Both lads hadbeen spending their summer holidays in Italy, and were leaving forEngland at the end of the week. They ought to have been already atschool, but a slight attack of malaria, which with the utmostimpartiality had affected both boys, had prevented them fromreturning to Rossall at the commencement of the term.

  Hugh, more generally known to his companion as "Rags", a nicknamebestowed upon him by reason of his hot-headed impulsiveness, wasfifteen years of age, tall, well-proportioned, and dark-featured.Gerald, on the other hand, was three inches shorter, slightlyinclined to stoutness, and of a fresh, ruddy complexion. His facealmost invariably wore a smile, with the result that hisschoolfellows promptly dubbed him "Sunny Jim", a nickname thateventually was fined down to "Jim". He was six months younger thanHugh, and so even-tempered that he seemed eminently suited to hiscompanion's impulsive and masterful nature.

  Threading their way through the dense crowd of enthusiasticNeapolitans who still pressed round the now fast-closed gates, thetwo lads set off at a quick pace, in spite of the sweltering heat ofthat October afternoon.

  "Look out, Rags!" shouted Gerald, pulling his chum backwards just intime to escape being run down by a motor car that, packed withofficers of the Bersaglieri, was pelting down the Strada Marina at abreak-neck pace. The lads drew back, and found themselves under thenoses of a couple of mules, which a fluent-voiced Neapolitan cabbywas urging in the opposite direction. Lustily tugging at the ropesthat did duty for reins, the man succeeded in pulling up, to theaccompaniment of a volley of abuse directed towards the cause of theobstruction. The sudden halt caused the sole occupant of theramshackle cab to thrust his head through the open window in order toascertain the reason for the delay, and to Hugh Frazer's surprise herecognized an old friend of his family, Arthur Reeves.

  "Whoever would have thought of meeting you in Naples, Hugh?"exclaimed Mr. Reeves genially. "Jump in--your friend too, ofcourse--and tell me as much as you can in less than a minute. Mytime's precious just now."

  The two lads were not slow in availing themselves of the invitation,and the lumbering vehicle resumed its way.

  When Arthur Reeves was in England, he lived in a bungalow not farfrom the Frazers' home at Shoreham, where he was a frequent andwelcome guest. He was six feet in height, of fairly light build,long-limbed and thin-featured. He was partially blind in his left eyeand nearly deaf in his left ear, but in spite of these defects hesucceeded in passing the doctor in an examination for the AccountantBranch of the Navy. How he did it could never be satisfactorilyexplained, though he strongly asserted that it was sheer bluff. Buthe was "ploughed" in the educational examination, and took tojournalism. By another supreme piece of bluff he succeeded in gettinga post as war correspondent in one of our petty border wars. This washis bent. He did so well getting his "copy" through a good two hoursbefore his rivals that his success was assured. In the Boer War hemade the circulation of his paper increase by leaps and bounds,succeeding by more bluff in gaining exclusive information and addingto his fame. He came home with a splendid reputation, a touch ofenteric, and a Mauser bullet wound in his left leg; but in spite ofthe fact that the left part of his anatomy was seriously crippled,his energy, resource, and marvellous descriptive powers made him ingreat request as a special correspondent. In this capacity he hadbeen dispatched to the ends of the earth, often at a few hours'notice, always adding to his laurels; and, being a born linguist, hehad a thorough knowledge of French, German, and Italian, and morethan a smattering of Turkish, Arabic, Hindustani, and Swahili. Tendays previously he had been enjoying a brief but well-earned rest atShoreham, after an exciting time in a revolution in Central America;then, like a bolt from the blue, came the news of Italy's high-handeddeclaration of war against Turkey.

  Reeves was ready within an hour of receiving a telegram from hischief. Wearing a worn yet serviceable suit of khaki, and light,strong boots and puttees, and carrying a small portmanteau containinghis trusty Mauser pistol, fifty rounds of ammunition, writingmaterials, and a change of linen--the old war correspondent knew theimportance of carrying but little impedimenta--he caused no smallsensation amongst the scribes of Fleet Street. His visit to theeditorial offices was also of brief duration, and, having secured hisletters of introduction, and drafts upon the Bank of Italy, he caughtthe boat train from Victoria by just thirty seconds.

  Two days later he was in Rome, presenting his credentials to theMinister of War. That high official was most urbane, and gave thecorrespondent permission to embark on any of the transports, "ifconvenient to the exigencies of military service". At Taranto novessels were available; at Bari it was found that the last transporthad left for the concentration base; at Brindisi the transportofficers, charmingly polite, regretted that every vessel had alreadyits full complement as allowed by State regulations. Arthur Reevesfound that for once he had been fooled. He rushed to the telegraphoffice and wired to the Minister of War. After a tedious delay ofthree hours came the reply: "Regret; can offer no furthersuggestions". The correspondent was angry: he did not wantsuggestions--he wanted a passage to Tripoli. The rebuff only urgedhim to greater efforts, and without further dallying he took train toNaples.

  Here again he met with the same polite apologies and regr
ets, while,to put the finishing touch, he was shown a recent order from theMinister of Marine forbidding transport officers to grant passages tocivilians.

  Arthur Reeves tried "bluffing". He produced the order from theMinister of War, and, arguing that a war correspondent was not acivilian in the accepted sense of the word, demanded that he shouldbe given a passage. For once bluff failed. With deprecatory shrugsand reiterated professions of deepest regret, the naval officersuperintending the transport arrangements replied that he was actingunder the direct orders of his chief. Why not telegraph to theMinister of Marine?

  But the Englishman would waste no more time. He determined to chartera steamer, regardless of cost, and proceed to the seat of war.Enquiries at the various shipping offices, however, elicited the samereply--all steam vessels were ordered to be held at the sole disposalof the Italian Government. At last one agent suggested a sailingcraft. With the prevalent strong north-west wind the passage would besoon made. He had a swift felucca, the _Victor Strozzi_, which wouldbe at the signor's disposal.

  "Have her ready by five o'clock, then."

  "Impossible, signor!"

  The Englishman was obdurate.

  "Five o'clock, or not at all."

  The "patron" protested, but finally gave way, Mr. Reeves agreeing tothe proposal that the _Victor Strozzi_ should provision at Capri,where supplies had not yet reached war prices. The correspondent wason his way down to the bay when his conveyance nearly bowled over hisyoung acquaintance Hugh Frazer and his companion.

  Arthur Reeves was a man of few words. What he did say was brief andto the point. But he was a rare listener. The biggest bore increation he would endure uncomplainingly, for in the torrent of vapidsmall talk he would never fail to pick up some information to add tohis vast store of knowledge of men and matters.

  "Sorry I didn't know before that you were staying in Naples. I shouldhave liked to have had a yarn with your pater, Rags," he remarked."Look here; it's not too late. Cut off back to the hotel and ask him,to come on board. Bring your chum with you. I'll take you across toCapri--you will enjoy it--and there are plenty of boatmen to run youback."

  "I will," replied Hugh, as the cab came to a halt at the quay. "Butwhere shall we see you?"

  "I will be on board the _Victor Strozzi_. Get a man to row you off.Don't forget--five sharp, if you're coming."

  "No one would think that you lads were recovering from a bout ofmalaria," exclaimed Mr. Frazer, as Hugh and Gerald, hot andbreathless with running, burst into the loggia of the Hotel desEtrangers. "What are you so excited about?"

  "Whom do you think we met, Dad? Mr. Reeves! He's off to the front."

  "What front?"

  "Why, Tripoli, of course. He sent us to ask if we--that is you,Gerald, and I--could go with him a part of the way."

  "Bless my soul--go part of the way to Tripoli! Of course it'simpossible. I should like to have seen him, though. Ask him up todine with us this evening."

  "He's leaving at five," glancing at the clock, the hands of whichpointed to a quarter to three. "Besides, he's only going as far asCapri to-day."

  "Oh, that's different!" replied Mr. Frazer. "That's only that littleisland out in the bay. Yes, you can go."

  "But won't you go too, Pater?"

  "I'm afraid I cannot. Signor Calasso has an appointment with me atsix. By the by, what vessel is Reeves going in? Perfectly safe, Ihope?"

  "He didn't say," replied Hugh. "I remember that he mentionedher name. It was the----"

  "_Victor_ something," added Gerald.

  "Not the _Victor Stroggia_, by any chance? She's quite a largesteamer."

  "That's the name," replied Hugh confidently.

  "I always heard that Reeves would never let money stand in his way,"remarked Mr. Frazer. "There's one thing--he has a sound Concernbehind him. Well, if you're going, you had better be off. You havemoney with you?"

  "About ten lire."

  "Then take other twenty. You may not require that amount, but it isbest to be on the safe side."

  Bidding Mr. Frazer goodbye, the lads scampered off. At the quay theyhad no difficulty in finding a boat, for their appearance was hailedby a chorus of shouts from a score of watermen.

  "To the _Victor Stroggia_, as fast as you can," said Hugh, addressingan old man who seemed less importunate than the rest of his fellows.

  "_Si, signor._"

  The lads stepped into the high-prowed craft, and the boatman, turninghis back on his youthful fares, stood up as he urged the boat towardsthe centre of the bay. There were nearly twenty large ships at anchorwith steam up, while a fleet of smaller craft, mostly sailingvessels, lay closer inshore.

  Amongst the latter was the _Victor Strozzi_, the felucca ArthurReeves had chartered; but unwittingly Hugh and his chum were beingtaken off to the _Victor Stroggia_, a subsidized merchantman about toleave for the African coast.

  Paying and dismissing their boatman, the lads threaded their way upthe steep accommodation ladder, which was crowded with the relativesof the army officers, who, having bade their relations a longfarewell, were slowly and reluctantly descending to the boats waitingat the foot of the ladder.

  In the confusion, Hugh and his chum passed the quartermaster at thegangway unnoticed, and found themselves standing on the packed troopdeck. The warning bell had already sounded, and the visitors werenearly all gone, but the grey-clad infantrymen, eager to take a lastglimpse of their beloved Italy, were too engrossed to notice the twobewildered lads.

  "Can you tell me where I can find Signor Reeves?" asked Hugh, in hisbest but execrable Italian, addressing a corporal.

  The soldier, being a stranger to the ship, passed the question to aseaman.

  "Signor Riefi? Ohe!" Beckoning to the lads to follow, the man turnedand dived down a hatchway. Through the semi-gloom of a badly lightedalleyway Hugh and Gerald kept at the heels of their guide, till hestopped and knocked at the door of a cabin on the half-deck aft.

  Receiving no reply, the man knocked again and opened the door.

  "The signor is out; but if the signori will be pleased to wait, Iwill find him," said the sailor, and the next instant Hugh and Geraldwere alone.

  They waited and waited, but still no Mr. Reeves appeared. Presentlycame the dull thud of the propeller revolving.

  Gerald glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to five.

  "We're off, and we shall be at Capri before we've seen anything," heexclaimed. "I thought Mr. Reeves was going to start at five? Weshould have been nicely sold if we had turned up sharp at the statedtime."

  As it happened, at that particular moment Arthur Reeves was standingon the deck of the felucca _Victor Strozzi_, with his glasses bearingon the shore, in the expectation of seeing his guests, while Hugh andGerald, in Lieutenant Riefi's cabin on board the transport _VictorStroggia_, were being borne rapidly southwards to the seat of war.