by Frank Savile
CHAPTER XVI
AT MELILLA
About the aspect of the port of Melilla there is only one thing whollyadmirable. That is the curving bay which sweeps eastward from the towntowards the frontier blockhouse. This last is an eyesore; the untetheredcamels which pasture in herds beside it have little attractiveness; thewide plateau which stretches up to the distant hills is desolate andoften arid. But the bay is a perpetual delight. Curved like a scimitar,it shines in the sunlight as a tempered blade shines, ringed by whitetresses of foam, banked by its parapets of sand.
Two men sat in the shadow cast by a stranded boat and watched half adozen Moors and Spaniards who bent their shoulders and swelled out theirmuscles to haul at a couple of ropes. The ropes slanted down to and werelost in the rush of the breakers. Those who dragged at them panted, theperspiration raining off their faces. The men who sat and watched seemedto find a whet to the enjoyment of their siesta in reviewing so muchenergy. One of them sighed--a contented little sigh, drew a cigarettefrom the breast of his _djelab_, lit it, and began to smoke with stolidsatisfaction.
A child who was sitting between the two rose suddenly and ran down thesand. The men at the ropes had come to a halt. They stood gasping,wiping their faces. Impulsively the child laid his little hands upon therope and stood in an attitude of tension, ready to use his tinystrength when operations were resumed. The men welcomed him with aglance of good-humored toleration.
The cigarette smoker laughed.
"The restlessness of youth, Sidi. Repose? They have no knowledge of themeaning of the word, these children. Now I? The last three weeks havebrimmed with such toil that I could sit here and contentedly drowse aweek, a month, nay, a whole year, if Allah willed."
The other nodded and stretched his limbs. The movement expressed thelethargy which is earned by fatigue.
"To-night we shall eat real food," he murmured. "We shall sleep in bedsof sorts. We can even be amused, if we find the _cafes chantants_ whichattract these poor devils of Andalusian conscripts amusing. It's all amatter of contrasts--life. After the experiences we have endured amongour friends the M'Geel, this doghole appears alluring. This!"
He waved his hand with a significant gesture towards the town, in whichthe mean houses appear to hustle the citadel and the citadel the houses,without either the one or the other gaining advantage.
The smoker blew out a cloud and spat towards the flagstaff whichdominates the sea bastion.
"May Allah relegate it and its inhabitants shortly to the Abyss!" heaspired devoutly. "Is it permitted to ask how long, Sidi, you purposeusing its hospitalities?"
"It is always permitted to ask, my friend. The answer is another matter.Bluntly, till the Gibraltar boat arrives."
The other lifted his shoulders into a tiny shrug.
"For the Sidi Jan this is a place not to be recommended. There is asmell, do you notice, especially at night--murk which rises from thefort ditch. And the vermin! His little skin is pitted with them!"
Landon moved irritably. He looked at his son. The men at the ropes werehauling again by now, and the small back was bent and the little armstautened with efforts to emulate them. The first few meshes of a ladennet appeared above the surface of the breakers.
Little John gave a squeal of delight, promptly deserted the toilers, andcapered joyously down the beach. Scales began to shine silvern in thesun as the tangle of the nets rose slowly, but higher and yet higher.His voice rose in shrill outcry; he clapped his hands.
As the great bag of the net was hauled little by little up the shelvingbeach, he flung himself into the hurtle round the wriggling catch. Themackerel were there in their hundreds--in their thousands. He trippedand fell into the center of the heap of fishes, wriggling as theywriggled, and to little more purpose.
Muhammed rose, paced slowly forward, and plucked him into safety. Butthe child met his good offices with scorn.
"I wish to help; I wish to gather them up!" he cried petulantly. "I amgoing to be a fisherman. I shall take the yacht to the fishing groundsand catch millions--millions!"
"There must be a catching of a yacht first," said Muhammed, amiably."Where wilt thou obtain it, little lord?"
Little John Aylmer turned puzzled eyes up to his questioner. Then hewheeled and pointed eastward towards the anchorage below the headland.
"It is there!" he explained. "Did he," he pointed towards his father,who still lay comfortably reclined in the shadow of the boat, "not sendfor it?"
Muhammed's eyes followed the direction of the child's hand. He stared,gave a sudden startled exclamation, and stared again, incredulously. Thenext moment he was back at his employer's side, twitching excitedly atthe folds of his bournous.
"Sidi--Sidi!" he exclaimed. "While we drowse we are betrayed. Look!Look!"
Landon scrambled to his feet and saw what the timbers of the shadowingboat had hidden before. A white vessel, drifting slowly in from theheadland abreast the market quay. As he watched, a white spout of foamand the rattle of the hawse-pipes told that the anchor had been dropped.
She rounded to, the American flag waving lazily from her stern, theburgee of the New York Yacht Club from her peak. They could not read hername across two miles of water, but they did not need to. It was _TheMorning Star_.
Landon went white beneath his tan. He swore.
"We have been here three days--three days, by God! Not a soul in theplace knows me or knows that I am not what I profess to be--a Moor fromEl Dibh. And yet--this! It can't be a coincidence. They know--somehow!"
He looked at Muhammed in sudden fierce suspicion.
"That infernal Jew of yours has sold us!" he cried.
The Moor made a tolerant gesture, the sort of motion a nurse offers awilful child.
"Sidi! You do not understand. A Jew to sell me! Not this side of theMediterranean. It means death! Yakoob knows it; it is knowledge that hehas sucked in with his mother's milk, chewed with his daily bread, seenwritten in letters of blood in a score of towns between this andMequinez. No, Yakoob Ihudi is not in this business. Some other is theinstrument of--fate!"
He stooped, lifted little John carefully in his arms, and nodded towardsthe town gate.
"We must use haste, Sidi," he said calmly, avoiding the protests thechild was making with his closed fists. "Show wisdom, little lord. Whydo you not wish to return to the town, wherein are special delights forthe eye in the booths of the market-place?"
Landon hesitated. Then he joined the Moor, running. And the other wascovering the ground with huge strides which forced his companion tocontinue the run to keep pace with him. He panted out a question.
"My plan, Sidi?" returned the Moor. "It lies in the hands of Allah. Herewhen inquiry begins to be made, we are the mark of a hundred eyes. InYakoob's hovel a means of escape may be found."
The two reached the dusty road which leads from the drill ground,followed it into the shadows of the town gate, mounted the steep onwhich the citadel stands, and gained a row of squalid wooden hovelswhich fringed the rampart above the fort ditch. Into one of these theydisappeared.
A man looked up as they entered, a dark-skinned, low-browed Israelite,who greeted them with an obsequiously furtive air. He sat cross-leggedupon a turned-up chest and plied his needle upon an exceedingly raggedpair of trousers. A heap of other garments lay at his elbow. His tradewas evidently that of mending tailor.
"This deposit for contraband of which you spoke last night?" askedMuhammed, without preamble. "Where is it?"
The look of furtive expectancy in the tailor's eyes became active alarm.
"What do you fear?" he asked shrilly. "A search? There are fifteenthousand cartridges awaiting transport."
"The search will not be for those, but for these," said the Moor,pointing to Landon and his son. "And there is as great a ruin attachedto the finding of the one as the other. You must prevent that."
The Jew rose quickly and barred the door. With alert movements hegathered up the smoking ashes from the hearth and emptied them into as
hallow pan. He covered his hand with a cloth, seized the pothook whichhung from the entrance of the chimney, and moved it laboriously aside.As he did so the hearthstone moved slowly downwards as if on a hinge. Aflight of steps led into the darkness.
Muhammed indicated the opening with a shrug.
"The best we can do, Sidi," he deprecated. "Till matters adjustthemselves you must keep company with Yakoob's contraband."
Landon shrugged his shoulders.
"Air?" he questioned laconically. "It is supplied--how?"
Muhammed passed on the question. The Jew pointed to the bosom of hisbournous, which rose and fell in the draught which rose from below.
"There are innumerable crevices which open through the wall of the fortditch," he said. "For this reason the Sidi must not use a light--atnight."
Landon shrugged his shoulders pessimistically, and took his son by thehand. "Come, my boy," he said. "We are going to play that childhood'sfavorite and most successful comedy--the Robbers in the Cave. You and Iare to be the leaders of the gang."
Little John peered doubtfully into the darkness.
"And Muhammed?" he asked, looking at the Moor with expectant, trustingeyes.
There was a queer intensity in the Moor's glance as he bent over thesmall figure hesitating at the head of the steps. His smile was kindlyand reassuring.
"I am the robber who goes abroad, prowling to find wicked rich men whodeserve robbing," he said. "I return shortly, little lord. Have nofear."
Little John nodded gravely and took his father's hand. The two pacedsolemnly down into the cellar. The hearthstone was replaced, the cindersset smoking upon it again. With a sigh Yakoob took up another deplorablepair of trousers and bit off a length of thread. Muhammed passed outinto the street.
Five minutes later he stood on the quayside, watching the motor launchwhich slid out of the shadow cast on the still waters by _The MorningStar_.
Three figures sat upon the cushions at the stern, and Muhammed, as hewatched them from under the hood of his _haik_, examined one of themwith startled intensity. Miss Van Arlen he recognized. Aylmer, whoseface was partially disguised by bandages, he debated over for a moment.But this third? This gray-clad elder? This was not the owner of _TheMorning Star_. It was--whom?
Surprise as much as relief erased the wrinkles from the watcher's faceas the unknown stepped ashore, turned to assist his companion, anddisclosed the features of the Moor's former employer, Mr. Miller.
Muhammed emphasized his amazement with an oath. "One God!" he swore, andfor a moment hesitated. Then, as the gray-clad man strolled past him,talking, the Moor pushed back the _haik_ which shadowed his face and metthe other's glance squarely.
Mr. Miller made no sign.
Muhammed dropped back into the shadow of the quayside booths, andsauntered carelessly up the citadel ramp. The three preceded him. At thetop of the ramp a causeway leads to the drawbridge which spans the fortditch. Mr. Miller had apparently eyes for nothing but his faircompanion. He failed to notice, at any rate, the dilapidated state ofthe iron rails which fence the bridge. The dust cloak he was carryingcaught in a jagged piece of iron and was most unfortunately torn. Asudden appreciative gleam burned in Muhammed's eyes as he noted theincident. The _haik_ hood concealed a smile.
He could not hear, but he could see the expressive pantomime which wasaccompanying Mr. Miller's apologies. He motioned his companions forwardtowards the bridge and the dark entrance through the casemate into thecitadel. As for himself, his finger explained, he would return to thetown and get the damage repaired. After a minute's discussion, mattersfollowed the course indicated. Aylmer and Miss Van Arlen passed on--toseek the government offices, as Muhammed told himself, to interview thehead, no doubt, of the military police.
The Moor slid forward deferentially as the gray figure turned.
"I can direct the Sidi to a _sastre_ of incredible skill," he explained."The Sidi has no need to return to the town if he desires such an one.He is to be found within a hundred paces, if the Sidi so will."
Mr. Miller made an affable gesture of acquiescence.
"You are certainly quick to seize a business opportunity, my friend," hesaid amiably. "Lead on."
Two minutes later the two stood behind Yakoob's well-barred door, andthe hearthstone had been raised. Landon offered his visitor a tribute ofsurprise tinged with humor.
"I understood, my friend," he said, as he took the other's hand, "thatthe mail came in from Gibraltar to-morrow. For you, it seems, the age ofmiracles is not past?"
"I hope I am an alert servant of opportunity," said Miller. "I got yourletter yesterday morning."
"That does not entirely explain your presence in Melilla to-day."
Miller nodded.
"Your father-in-law has been anchored in Gibraltar Bay for the lastfortnight. He has had information of your movements, my friend--goodinformation, and I have not been able to determine the source of it. Imade it my business to get introduced to him at the house of mutualfriends. A humble client of mine, a ship's chandler, acquainted me withthe fact that _The Morning Star's_ anchor and steam were being raised,and with the name of her port of destination. A couple of good boatmenand a little tact did the rest. I told Mr. Van Arlen that I had anurgent business necessity to visit these possessions of the King ofSpain. Result--a warm invitation to anticipate the mail boat by a day."
"Excellent!" commended Landon. "And the business necessity? You havebrought the means of relieving it?"
Mr. Miller dilated his nostrils. Perhaps the reek of the fort ditchreached him. Very carefully and methodically he lit a cigarette.
"Yes--and no," he answered at last, and with deliberation. "I have moneywith me, my dear Lord Landon. But my employers give me no commission toapply it to--charity."
Landon's eyes grew suddenly ominous.
"The price of that book was to be five hundred pounds," he said. "I havereceived one hundred so far."
Miller made a gesture of assent.
"You obtained for me a certain book. Subsequent investigations proved itto be a mere dummy--a book made, in fact, to be stolen. You remain in mydebt to the extent of that score of five-pound notes which I gave you."
Landon laughed a dry little laugh.
"Then I concede that I shall remain in your debt--permanently. Thebungling is yours, not mine. I demand the balance of my fee. Forsuppose, my dear Miller, that I gave your game in Gibraltar away?"
"Suppose you did," said Miller, placidly. "It would be a question ofyour word against mine, would it not?"
There was nothing sneering in his tone, but its bald self-assuranceseemed to whip Landon's temper into fury. He swore wickedly.
Miller watched him as the weasel might be expected to watch the trappedrat. And the dark, unpleasant little room had, indeed, many of theattributes of a cage.
And then there was an energetic gesture from the gray-clad arm.
"You bungled the matter--not in stealing the wrong book," said Miller,"but in the manner of your escape. It was then that you lost your valueto my employers. You are liable to be arrested in any of the Britishdominions. Till that matter is settled, you are a weapon without anedge, for us. That error must be repaired."
Landon stared up at him curiously.
"How?" he asked.
Miller made a significant gesture towards the child. There was nointention of menace in it, but the child shrank back, turning, nottowards his father, but with a sudden instinctive outstretching of hishand to Muhammed. The Moor grasped the little fingers silently andsmiled--a smile which faded as he turned his keen, watchful eyes againupon the visitor.
"You must renounce your detention of your son," said Miller. "You mustbargain with his grandfather. Your price must be a certain competency,if you will, but above all the right to return unquestioned into yourproper place in society. In this way alone can you continue to be ofuse--to me."
There was a silence. Landon, still a-squat upon the floor, his elbow onhis knee, the heel of his fist supporting
his hand, stared up at hismentor with impassive eyes. In the shadow on his right Muhammed stood,still holding the child's hand, his glance hovering over Miller with aspeculation which was almost distrust. Behind him the tailor stitchedapathetically at his dilapidated wares.
Suddenly Landon turned to the Moor.
"You have heard?" he questioned sharply.
"I have heard, oh, Sidi."
"And understood?"
The man hesitated.
"There is a purpose of surrendering the Sidi Jan?" he murmured, and hisvoice conveyed not so much protest as incredulity.
Landon nodded.
"This month of toil, all our leagues of weariness and pain among the menof the M'Geel are things lost, then," went on the Moor impassively. "Anorder has come and we must leap to obey it. The Sidi Jan, too? His voiceis not to be heard in the matter." He shrugged his shouldersapathetically. "Only a child," he added, and touched the golden curlswith a caressing hand. "Only a bale of merchandise, a thing to be boughtand sold."
Miller turned and looked at him keenly. The Moor met the glance with adroop of the head which spoke eloquently of submission. But a queersmile began to harden Landon's lips. He rose slowly to his feet.
"A bale of merchandise," he repeated slowly. "And, as I am reminded, wetoiled to bring it uninjured across the wilds of the Beni M'Geel. Willthat be reckoned in the value of it?" he asked, and wheeled suddenlytowards Miller with a savage, cat-like motion. "Will they pay me for mysweat and thirst and pain?"
The gray man was silent for a moment. There was something electric inthe atmosphere, something menacing, something--and this was perhaps whathis machine-like mind shrank from most--something human and passionate.These were not among the goods which Mr. Miller sought to purchase.
"You will do your own bargaining," he said, in a level, dispassionatetone. "But the child must be delivered. The price? There you are masterof your own affairs."
For the second time Landon's eyes dwelled on Muhammed's face.
"I shall answer him--how?" he asked quietly.
"Thus!" said the Moor, and flung his arms round Miller's elbows andsmothered his lips upon his breast, while Landon, laughing a queer,excited laugh, snatched up a garment from the dismal heap on the floor,tore off a liberal patch, and deftly wound it in gag-wise between theprisoner's teeth. Shackled with ragged waist-cloths at ankle and wrist,the gray figure was lowered down the steps into the darkness. Muhammedspoke rapidly and incisively for the space of a minute to the Jew, wholistened in impassive silence. Then, with a last commanding gesture, theMoor opened the door and went out again alone into the swiftly fallingdusk.
