by G. A. Henty
“I hope that you are not going to die, sheik. You are sorely weak from loss of blood, and you are wounded in five places, but I think not at all that any of them are mortal.”
“I care not to live,” the sheik murmured. “Half my followers are dead. I mourn not for them; they, like myself, died in doing their duty and in fighting the Franks—but it is my boy, of whom I was so proud. I ought not to have taken him with me. Think you that I could wish to live, and go back to tell his mother that I took him to his death.”
“He was not killed, sheik; we assured ourselves of that before we carried you away, and I found that, with twenty other Arabs and two or three hundred of the townsmen, he was taken prisoner to the citadel.”
A look of pain passed across the sheik’s face.
“Your news is not good; it is bad,” he said, with more energy than he had hitherto shown. “It were better had he died in battle than be shot in cold blood. Think you that they will spare any whom they caught in arms against them?”
“My news is good, sheik,” Edgar said calmly; “had it been otherwise I would have left you to think that he had died on the field of battle. I have reason to believe that Sidi has been released, and that you will soon see him.”
For a moment the sheik’s eyes expressed incredulity; then the assured tone and the calm manner of Edgar convinced him that he at least believed that it was true.
“Are you sure, are you quite sure?” he asked, in tones so low that Edgar could scarce hear him.
“I am quite sure—I would not buoy you up with false hopes. Sidi is free. He is not far off now, and will speedily be here, directly he knows that you are strong enough to see him.”
For a minute the sheik’s eyes closed, his lips moved, but no sound came from them, but Edgar knew that he was murmuring thanks to Allah for his son’s preservation. Then he looked up again.
“I am strong enough,” he said; “your news has made a man of me again. Send him here.”
Edgar walked away and joined Sidi.
“Be very calm and quiet,” he said; “your father is very, very weak. Do not break down. He knows that you are close by, and is prepared to see you. Do not, I beg of you, agitate him; do not let him talk, or talk much yourself; be calm and restful with him.”
He turned away and walked to the end of the trees, where he engaged in a short conversation with the two Arabs. Then he turned again, and went near enough to catch a sight of the sheik. Sidi was kneeling by his side, holding his hand to his heart, and a smile of happiness illuminated the drawn face of the wounded man. Satisfied that all was going on well, he joined the men.
“In the basket you will find a small cooking-pot,” he said. “Pick up some of the driest sticks that you can find, so as not to make any smoke. Put some kabobs into the pot with as much water as will just cover them; then place it over the fire, and let it stew until the meat is in threads. Strain the broth off. I will give it to him, a sip at a time.”
“We need not be afraid of the smoke,” one of the men said. “We went down to the village to get bread and dates. A man saw that we were Arabs, and asked us for news of what was going on in Cairo. Some fugitives passed along yesterday evening, and said that the French were killing all the Moslems. We told him that it was not as bad as that, but that many had assuredly been slain. He called down maledictions upon the French, and seeing that he was a true man we said that we had a wounded comrade with us, and that he was lying in the grove. He told us that he was the owner of it, and that we were welcome to use it, but prayed us not to come to him again; for if the Franks came along in search of fugitives, and happened to search the grove, and found that he had been supplying a wounded man with provisions, it might cost him his life. We told him that he need not fear, for that we would not betray him, but that, at any rate, we would not come to his shop again.”
“Then make the fire immediately, Hassan; the sooner the sheik has a little nourishment, the better. If he seems strong enough to bear it, I want to carry him off to the mountains at once. It is quite possible that the French may be searching the villages round for wounded fugitives, and I would fain get him up among the hills. Sidi, too, has an ugly wound in the head, and needs a few days’ rest. I think I have everything that they can want for the next two or three days, and you have a good supply of fruit. We must find some place among the rocks sheltered from the sun. When it is dark you must go down to the fountain and fill up your water-skins there.”
An hour later Edgar carried the cup of broth to the sheik.
“Sidi, do you lift your father up a little—a very little. I want him to take some of this broth. It is all a question of keeping up your strength now, sheik, and I hope that you will try and drink a little.”
“I, too, want to get strong,” the sheik said, “I have something to live for now.”
He drank a few mouthfuls, and then motioned to his son to lower his head down again.
“’Tis strange,” he said, “that we three should be together again when it seemed that none of us would meet on earth.”
“It is very pleasant to be together again,” Edgar said heartily, “and it will be more pleasant still when we are able to get about again together.”
There had been but few words exchanged between father and son. To be restored to each other was sufficient, and the sheik had not even wondered as to how his son had so unexpectedly arrived. After drinking the broth he closed his eyes, and in a few minutes it was evident, by his quiet breathing, that he was asleep.
Edgar moved quietly away, beckoning to Sidi to follow him, and when he joined him at the edge of the grove, told him of the plan that he proposed.
“Do you think that he is strong enough?” Sidi asked.
“I do not think that it will do him harm, Sidi; indeed I think that if, before he goes to sleep, we lay him on that blanket that we brought him here in, we might carry him without waking him. Of course I should tell him this evening what we thought of doing. It may be that the French will make no search for the wounded. I saw proclamations signed by some of the principal sheiks and ulemas, calling upon the people to be tranquil, and announcing that Bonaparte had consented to forgive the past; but you know that did not prevent their trying those prisoners this morning, and, I doubt not, executing a large number of them. Therefore, although they may leave the lower class alone, they may seize any of their leaders they may find, and if they came upon your father, his wounds would show that he had been engaged in the fighting; and if they took him to the town many of those who saw him there might denounce him as the sheik who led his horsemen against one of their columns. Of course they may not search, but it is as well to be on the safe side, and it is better to run the slight risk that the journey might do him than to chance his being captured here.”
Sidi heartily agreed.
“Now, Sidi, you may as well get rid of those clothes and put on the peasant’s suit I bought you. I shall do the same; then should we be caught sight of, at a distance, we should simply be taken for two fellahs who have gone up into the mountains, either to shoot game or for some other purpose, while the white clothes would excite suspicion. I am sorry now that I did not get them for Hassan and Ali, but it is likely enough that I may be able to buy such things in the village. By the way, your father said, when we were riding from the Pyramids to the town, that there were a good many old tombs up in the hills. Of course, for to-night, it would be enough if we take him a short distance up, then to-morrow we can search, and if we can find one of those tombs, it will be a safe place for him to stop in; and being cut in the solid rock, it would be pleasantly cool. There will be no fear whatever of any French soldiers coming along and entering there, and we can live quietly until he is fit to sit a horse. When you have taken off those things that you have on, you had better tear off a number of long strips for bandages. We did what we could roughly when we first carried your father off the field; but we can bandage his wounds carefully now, and yours also must want looking to badly.”
When the sheik woke, after two hours’ sleep, he drank some broth. His voice was louder and clearer, and it was evident that even the small quantity that he had taken before, and the quiet sleep, had refreshed him greatly.
“Now, sheik,” Edgar said, “Hassan and Ali are going to bandage your wounds carefully. They say that they are both accustomed to it, and no doubt they have some experience, for wounds are common enough in your raids and forays.”
Edgar by this time had put on the dark-blue blouse, reaching down below the knee and girt by a belt at the waist, which forms the main article of dress of every Egyptian peasant. On his head was a brown cap of rough wool, of something of the same shape as a fez. These, and a pair of low Turkish shoes, completed his costume, underneath which he wore the European one, the trousers being rolled up above the knees, so as not to show. While the operation of dressing the wounds was going on, he went down into the village, and finding a shop where they sold such things, bought similar suits to his own for the two Arabs. When he returned, the sheik’s wounds had been dressed, a blanket rolled up under his head, and he was looking altogether more comfortable. Edgar now told him his plan of carrying him off.
“It will be best,” he said, “much the best. Though I have said nothing, I have wondered to-day whether the French would come along, and it has troubled me; besides, I shall gain strength faster up in the hills. Your plan is a good one. I think that I shall sleep well in the blanket. Even if I wake it will not matter; the motion will be easy, and my wounds have been well bandaged, and I have no fear of their breaking out again.”
In addition to the severe sabre cut on the face, the sheik had another on the left arm. A third had struck him slantingly on the right side, as his arm was raised to strike; a musket shot had also made a deep groove on the hip. When in the village, Edgar had purchased, among other things, several sticks of kabobs, and when it became dark the two Arabs, now in their peasant dress, went down and filled the water-skins at the village well. The sheik drank off the rest of the broth, and was then carefully lifted and laid down on the blanket, which was still attached to the spears. The other blanket was then placed under his head, and in half an hour his son, who was watching him, was glad to see that he was again asleep. Some more kabobs were put in the pot to stew, and when ready the broth was poured into a wine-bottle that Edgar had emptied. As soon as the moon was fairly up they started, as before, the two Arabs taking the pole at the sheik’s head, Edgar those at his feet, where the weight was comparatively a light one. Sidi would have divided this with him, but Edgar laughed at the idea.
“I shall be well pleased, Sidi, if you can do the walk without needing help; the weight is really nothing. If he had been a big fleshy Englishman it would be a different thing altogether, but you Arabs are simply bone and muscle, and divided between three the weight is not worth talking about.”
The blankets had been rolled up and placed across the men’s shoulders, the water-skins hung by their straps on either side, and they carried the baskets, on which were also placed the bundles of clothes, between them. No stir or movement showed that the sheik was conscious of being lifted from the ground. After twenty minutes’ walking they got beyond the area of cultivated ground, and were able to head directly for the hills, and two hours later they were well up among them, and Edgar and Sidi agreed that there was small chance indeed of any French parties, especially of cavalry, searching such broken and rugged ground. A spot was chosen where the ends of the spears could be laid on two flat stones high enough to keep the bottom of the hammock from touching the ground between them.
Sidi bent over his father, and, listening to his breathing, saw that he was sound asleep. His only share of the burden had been a small, shallow iron pot, in which a little charcoal fire glowed brightly. A small bag of this, the most common fuel in Egypt, had been bought in the village. The broth was poured into a tin, which was hung a short distance above the fire, so that it would warm slowly. Then Edgar and Sidi, who were both completely worn out, wrapped themselves, one in his burnoose and the other in a blanket, and lay down; Hassan and Ali, who had by turns slept during the day, undertaking to keep watch by the side of the sheik, and to give him the broth as soon as he woke.
Edgar dropped off to sleep instantly; when he awoke the sun had risen. He saw that Sidi was still asleep. The hammock had been lowered to the ground, and Ali was holding the cup to the sheik’s lips. Edgar saw at once that he was better, the drawn expression and the ashen shade round his lips had greatly abated, and his eyes were brighter. Living so frugal and active a life, the Arab, like the Red Indian, can bear wounds that would be fatal to a dweller in towns; and as none of the sheik’s wounds were in themselves very serious, and it was loss of blood alone that had brought him to death’s door, the night’s rest, the nourishment that he had taken, and above all, his joy at finding his son living, had already placed him on the path to recovery.
“I am glad to see you looking much better than you did yesterday,” Edgar said heartily as he came up. “I hope that you have slept well?”
“I have woke but twice, and each time took some of the broth, and straightway went off to sleep again. I did not feel my move here, and was indeed surprised on my first waking, when Ali told me that I was safe up in the hills. See, I can already lift my right hand. I shall not be your patient long.”
“There is no hurry,” Edgar replied. “After I have had some breakfast I shall start out to look for one of those tombs that you told me of. There we shall have shelter from the heat of the sun and from the night-dews. There will be no fear of the French lighting upon us; and indeed I do not think that, now they have Cairo under their feet again, they will trouble more about the matter. They have other things to think about; and although Cairo will be quiet for a long time after this, the French will know that their merciless slaughter of the Mussulmans will excite the deepest feeling of hatred against them, and that it will be even less safe than before for small parties to move about.
“Kleber will no doubt start again with his division for Damietta. Desaix is many days’ journey to the south. Probably a force will march to Suez. I heard it said by some French officers that this would probably be the next move, and Napoleon will not care to further weaken the garrison of the city by sending out search parties.”
“Is Sidi’s wound a bad one?”
“No, it is nothing like so severe as that which you received on the cheek. It was a downright blow, but his turban saved him. It is a pretty deep scalp wound extending down to the ear, and he lost a good deal of blood, but it was anxiety for you and the prospect of death for himself in the morning that caused it to seem more serious than it was. In three or four days he will be nearly himself again.”
“And you, did you escape unhurt? We deemed you certainly dead.”
“No; my horse was shot, and I at the same moment got a bullet through my arm. Beyond the loss of a little blood it was of no consequence. I ran into a house close by and sheltered there until the French column came out, and then went out in some European clothes I found there, and had no more trouble.”
AT ABOUKIR AND ACRE (Part 2)
CHAPTER VIII
AN EGYPTIAN TOMB
While the Arabs were preparing breakfast, Edgar searched for a spot where the sheik could lie in shelter during the mid-day heat; for, hot as it was on the desert sands, the heat was fully as great on the bare rocks of the hills. After some search he found a spot where two ledges of rock ran parallel to each other, with a passage of some six feet between them, on each side of which they rose perpendicularly some twelve feet in height. The fissures ran nearly north and south, and therefore, except for an hour at noon, the bottom was entirely in shade.
It was within half a mile of the spot where they encamped for the night; and returning, the sheik was carried there at once, and was laid on the blanket. The spears were found to be long enough to reach across at the top. The blanket that had formed the hammock being unrolled, it formed a sort of
awning that could, when the sun was high, be moved a little one way or the other, so as to keep him in the shade. Learning from the sheik in which direction the tombs that he had spoken of were situated, Edgar started with Hassan, and after half an hour’s walking came upon them. They were, for the most part, square-cut holes in the face of the perpendicular rock. Some of them were only flanked by pilasters cut in the stone; others had more ornate designs. All had originally been closed by great stone slabs. These had long since been moved or broken up by treasure-seekers. The plan of most of them was similar—a short passage, terminated by a chamber of from ten to twenty feet square. Vestiges of the paintings that originally covered the walls could still be seen. Choosing one of the larger tombs, Edgar aided Hassan to remove fragments of stones that projected above the dust and sand, which lay six inches deep over the floor. Well satisfied, he returned to the sheik.
“We have found a good place,” he said. “The air was quite cool in there, and the sand will make a much more comfortable bed than this bare rock.”
The sheik made no reply, but lay looking at him with an expression that puzzled him, and he was about to turn to Sidi to ask whether his father was worse, when the latter said, “While you have been away my son has been telling me all that you have done for him, and that it was you who saved his life as well as mine. I am weak now, I cannot say what is in my heart, it is too full for words.”
“Don’t say any thing about it, sheik,” Edgar said earnestly. “Did you not adopt me into your tribe? Does not Sidi call me brother? Have you not sheltered me in your tents when I had nowhere else to go? Is it not natural then that I should do all in my power to repay these benefits, and to rescue you and my brother Sidi from the hands of your enemies? I deem myself most fortunate that I have been enabled to do so, and, indeed, ran but little risk in either case. It was a small thing to search for you among the dead, and to have you carried off; while, having found the disguise of a European, there was no risk of my being recognized as having fought against the French when I went to testify in favour of Sidi. Save as to my own name I had need to go but little beyond the truth. I had won Sidi’s gratitude by aiding him against two ruffians. He had slain a man who was about to attack me, though that did not take place, as they supposed, at the time of the massacre of the European shopkeepers, but the main facts were true, and there was no fear that in the telling of them I should get myself into trouble.”
