CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
LED INTO CAPTIVITY.
We turn once more to the Nubian desert, where, it will be remembered, weleft several of our friends, cut off from McNeill's zereba at a criticalmoment when they were all but overwhelmed by a host of foes.
The grand-looking Arab who had so opportunely appeared on the scene andarrested the spears which were about to finish the career of Jack Molloywas no other than the man who had been saved by Miles from the bullet ofhis comrade Rattling Bill. A kind act had in this case received itsappropriate reward, for a brief though slight glance, and a graciousinclination of the Arab's head, convinced our hero that the whole partyowed their lives to this man's gratitude.
They were not however exempt from indignity, for at the moment when JackMolloy fell they were overwhelmed by numbers, their arms were wrenchedfrom their grasp, and their hands were bound behind their backs. Thusthey were led, the reverse of gently, into the thick bush by a strongparty of natives, while the others, headed by the black-bearded chief,continued their attack on the zereba.
It soon became evident that the men who had charge of the prisoners didnot share, or sympathise with, the feelings of the chief who had sparedtheir lives, for they not only forced them to hurry forward as fast asthey could go, but gave them occasional pricks with their spear-pointswhen any of them chanced to trip or stumble. One of the warriors inparticular--a fiery man--sometimes struck them with the shaft of hisspear and otherwise maltreated them. It may be easily understood thatmen with unbroken spirits and high courage did not submit to thistreatment with a good grace!
Miles was the first to be tested in this way. On reaching a piece ofbroken ground his foot caught in something and he stumbled forward. Hishands being bound behind him he could not protect his head, and theresult was that he plunged into a prickly shrub, out of which he arosewith flushed and bleeding countenance. This was bad enough, but whenthe fiery Arab brought a lance down heavily on his shoulders his tempergave way, and he rushed at the man in a towering rage, striving at thesame time, with intense violence, to burst his bonds. Of course hefailed, and was rewarded by a blow on the head, which for a moment ortwo stunned him.
Seeing this, Armstrong's power of restraint gave way, and he sprang tothe rescue of his friend, but only to meet the same fate at the hands ofthe fiery Arab.
Stunned and bleeding, though not subdued, they were compelled to move onagain at the head of the party--spurred on now and then by a touch fromthe point of the fiery man's lance. Indeed it seemed as if this man'spassionate nature would induce him ere long to risk his chief's wrath bydisobeying orders and stabbing the prisoners!
Stevenson, the marine, was the next to suffer, for his foot slipped on astone, and he fell with such violence as to be unable to rise for a fewminutes. Impatient of the delay, the fiery man struck him so savagelywith the spear-shaft that even his own comrades remonstrated.
"If I could only burst this cord!" growled Simkin between his teeth,"I'd--"
He stopped, for he felt that it was unmanly, as well as idle, to boastin the circumstances.
"We must have patience, comrade," said Stevenson, as he rose pale andbloodstained from the ground. "Our Great Captain sometimes gives us theorder to submit and suffer and--"
A prick in the fleshy part of his thigh caused him to stop abruptly.
At this point the endurance of Jack Molloy failed him, and he also "wentin" for violent action! But Jack was a genius as well as a sailor, andprofited by the failures of his comrades. Instead of making futileefforts to break his bonds like them, he lowered his hairy head, and,with a howl and a tremendous rush, like a fish-torpedo, launchedhimself, or, as it were, took "a header," into the fiery man!
"No fellow," as Jack himself afterwards remarked, "could receive fifteenstone ten into his bread-basket and go on smiling!" On the contrary, hewent down like a nine-pin, and remained where he fell, for hiscomrades--who evidently did not love him--merely laughed and went ontheir way, leaving him to revive at his leisure.
The prisoners advanced somewhat more cheerfully after this event, for,besides being freed from pricks of the spear-point, there was thatfeeling of elation which usually arises in every well-balanced mind fromthe sight of demerit meeting with its appropriate reward.
The region over which they were thus led, or driven, was rather morevaried than the level country behind them, and towards evening itchanged still further, becoming more decidedly hill-country. At nightthe party found themselves in the neighbourhood of one of theall-important wells of the land, beside which they encamped under asmall tree.
Here the prisoners were allowed to sit down on the ground, with one manto guard them, while the others kindled a fire and otherwise arrangedthe encampment.
Supper--consisting of a small quantity of boiled corn and dried flesh--was given to the prisoners, whose hands were set free, though theirelbows were loosely lashed together, and their feet tied to preventtheir escape. No such idea, however, entered into the heads of any ofthem, for they were by that time in the heart of an unknown range ofhills, in a country which swarmed with foes, besides which, they wouldnot have known in what direction to fly had they been free to do so;they possessed neither arms, ammunition, nor provisions, and were at thetime greatly exhausted by their forced march.
Perhaps Jack Molloy was the only man of the unfortunate party who atthat moment retained either the wish or the power to make a dash forfreedom. But then Jack was an eccentric and exceptional man in everyrespect. Nothing could quell his spirit, and it was all but impossibleto subdue his body. He was what we may term a composite character. Hisframe was a mixture of gutta-percha, leather, and brass. His brain wasa compound of vivid fancy and slow perception. His heart was a union ofhighly inflammable oil and deeply impressible butter, with somethingremarkably tough in the centre of it. Had he been a Red Indian he wouldhave been a chief. If born a nigger he would have been a king. In thetenth century he might have been a Sea-king or something similar. Bornas he was in the nineteenth century, he was only a Jack-tar and a hero!
It is safe to conclude that if Molloy had been set free that eveningwith a cutlass in his hand he would--after supper of course--haveattacked single-handed the united band of forty Arabs, killed at leastten of them, and left the remaining thirty to mourn over their mangledbodies and the loss of numerous thumbs and noses, to say nothing ofother wounds and bruises.
Luckily for his comrades he was _not_ free that night.
"Boys," said he, after finishing his scanty meal, and resting on anelbow as he looked contemplatively up at the stars which were beginningto twinkle in the darkening sky, "it do seem to me, now that I've hadtime to think over it quietly, that our only chance o' gittin' out o'this here scrape is to keep quiet, an' pretend that we're uncommon fondof our _dear_ Arab friends, till we throws 'em off their guard, an'then, some fine night, give 'em the slip an' make sail across the desertfor Suakim."
"No doubt you're right," answered Miles, with a sigh, for, being tiredand sleepy just then, he was not nearly as sanguine as the seaman, "butI have not much hope of gaining their confidence--especially after youracting the thunderbolt so effectively on one of them."
"Why, man alive! they won't mind that. It was all in the way of fairfight," said Molloy; "an' the rascal was no favourite, I could seethat."
"It's a wonder to me you could see anything at all after such a ram!"remarked Moses Pyne, with a yawn, as he lay back and rested his head ona tuft of grass. "The shock seemed to me fit to sink an iron-clad."
"But why _pretend_ to be fond of the Arabs?" asked Stevenson. "Don'tyou think it would be sufficient that we should obey orders quietlywithout any humbug or pretence at all about it, till a chance to escapeshall come in our way?"
"Don't you think, Stevenson," said Miles, "that there's a certain amountof humbug and pretence even in quiet obedience to orders, when suchobedience is not the result of submission, but of a desire to throwpeople off their guard?"
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bsp; "But my obedience _is_ the result of submission," returned the marinestoutly. "I do really submit--first, because it is God's will, for Icannot help it; second, because it is the only course that will enableme to escape bad treatment; third, because I wish to gain the good-willof the men who have me in their power whether I escape or not; and,fourth--"
"Hallo! old man, how many heads are you goin' to give us in that theresermon?" asked Moses.
"This is the last head, Moses, and you needn't be anxious, for I ain'tgoing to enlarge on any of 'em. My fourth reason is, that by doing ascommon-sense bids me, our foes will be brought thereby to that state ofmind which will be favourable to everything--our escape included--and Ican't help that, you know. It ain't my fault if they become trustful,is it?"
"No, nor it ain't no part o' your dooty to spoil their trustfulness byfailin' to take advantage of it," said Molloy, with a grin; "but it doseem to me, Stevenson, as if there wor a strong smack o' the Jesuit, inwhat you say."
"I hope not," replied the marine. "Anyhow, no one would expect me,surely, to go an' say straight out to these fellows, `I'm goin' to obeyorders an' be as meek as a lamb, in order to throw you off your guardan' bolt when I get the chance!'"
"Cer'nly not. 'Cause why? Firstly, you couldn't say it at all tillyou'd learned Arabic," returned Molloy; "secondly--if I may be allowedfor to follow suit an' sermonise--'cause you shouldn't say it if youcould; an', thirdly, 'cause you'd be a most awful Jack-ass to say it ifyou did. Now, it's my advice, boys, that we go to sleep, for we won'thave an easy day of it to-morrow, if I may judge from to-day."
Having delivered this piece of advice with much decision, the seamanextended himself at full length on the ground, and went to sleep with apleased smile on his face, as if the desert sand had been his familiarcouch from infancy.
Some of the other members of the unfortunate party were not, however,quite so ready for sleep. Miles and his friend Armstrong sat longtalking over their fate--which they mutually agreed was a very sad one;but at last, overcome by exhaustion, if not anxiety, they sank intomuch-needed repose, and the only sound that broke the stillness of thenight was the tread of the Arab sentinel as he paced slowly to and fro.
The country, as they advanced, became more and more rugged, until theyfound themselves at last in the midst of a hill region, in the valleysof which there grew a considerable amount of herbage and underwood. Thejourney here became very severe to the captives, for, although they didnot suffer from thirst so much as on the plains, the difficulty ofascending steep and rugged paths with their hands bound was very great.It is true the position of the hands was changed, for after the secondday they had been bound in front of them, but this did not render theirtoil easy, though it was thereby made a little less laborious.
By this time the captives had learned from experience that if theywished to avoid the spear-points they must walk in advance of theircaptors at a very smart pace. Fortunately, being all strong and healthymen, they were well able to do so.
Rattling Bill, perhaps, suffered most, although, after Molloy, he wasphysically one of the strongest of the party.
Observing that he lagged behind a little on one occasion while they weretraversing a somewhat level valley, Stevenson offered him his arm.
"Don't be ashamed to take it, old boy," said the marine kindly, as hiscomrade hesitated. "You know, a fellow sometimes feels out o' sorts,and not up to much, however stout he may be when well, so just you layhold, for somehow I happen to feel as strong as an elephant to-day."
"But I _ain't_ ill," returned Simkin, still declining, "and I don't seewhy I shouldn't be as able as you are to carry my own weight."
"Of course you are better able to do it than I am, in a general way,"returned his friend, "but I said that sometimes, you know, a fellowgives in, he don't well know why or how, an' then, of course, hiscomrades that are still strong are bound to help him. Here, hook on andpocket your pride. You'll have to do the same thing for me to-morrow,may-hap, when _I_ give in. And if it does come to that I'll lean heavy,I promise you."
"You're a good fellow, Stevenson, even though you _are_ a Blue Light,"said Simkin, taking the proffered arm.
"Perhaps it's _because_ I am a Blue Light," returned the marine, with alaugh. "At all events, it is certain that whatever good there may beabout me at all is the result of that Light which is as free to you asto me."
For some minutes the couple walked along in silence. At last RattlingBill spoke.
"I wonder," he said, "why it is that a young and healthy fellow like meshould break down sooner than you, Stevenson, for I'm both bigger andstronger--and yet, look at us new. Ain't it strange! I wonder why itis."
"It is strange, indeed," returned the marine quietly. "P'r'aps theclimate suits me better than you."
"I know what you're thinkin'," said Simkin, almost testily. "Why don'tyou say that _drink_ is the cause of it--straight out, like a man?"
"Because I knew you were saying that to yourself, lad, so there was noneed for me to say it," returned his friend, with a side-glance and atwinkle of the eyes.
"Well, whoever says it, it's a fact," continued Simkin, almost sternly,"an' I make no bones of admitting it. I have bin soakin' away, rightand left, since I came to this country, in spite o' warnin's from youand other men like you, and now I feel as if all my boasted strength wasgoin' out at my heels."
Stevenson was silent.
"Why don't you say `I told you so?'" asked Simkin, sharply.
"Because I _never_ say that! It only riles people; besides," continuedthe marine, earnestly, "I was asking God at the moment to enable me toanswer you wisely. You see, I think it only fair to reveal some of myprivate thoughts to _you_, since you are making a father-confessor of_me_. But as you admit that drink has done you damage, my dear fellow,there is no need for me to say anything more on that subject. What youwant now is encouragement as to the future and advice as to the present.Shall I give you both just now, or shall I wait?"
"`Commence firing!'" replied Simkin, with a half-jesting smile.
"Well, then, as to encouragement," said Stevenson. "A point of vitalimportance with men who have gone in for drink as much as you have, istotal-abstinence; and I regard it as an evidence of God's love to youthat He has brought you here--"
"God's love that brought me _here_!" exclaimed the soldier in surprise."Well, that _is_ a view o' the case that don't seem quite plain."
"Plain enough if you open your eyes wide enough. See here: If you wasin camp now, with your present notions, and was to determine to give updrink, you'd have to face and fight two most tremendous devils. Onedevil is called Craving, the other is called Temptation, and all theArabs in the Soudan rolled into one are not so terrible or so strong asthese two when a man is left to fight them by himself. Now, is it not asign of our Father's love that he has, by bringing you here, removed thedevil Temptation entirely out of your way, for you can't get strongdrink here for love or money. So, you see, you have only got Craving tofight, and that's encouraging, ain't it?"
"D'ye know, I believe you are not far wrong," said Simkin, gravely; "andit _is_ encouraging to know that Temptation's out o' the way, for I feelthat the other devil has got me by the throat even now, and that it'shim as has weakened me so much."
"That's it, friend. You've got the truth by the tail now, so hold on;but, at the same time, don't be too hard on Craving. It's not _his_fault that he's here. You have poured liquor down your throat to himdaily, and cultivated his acquaintance, and helped him to increase hisstrength regularly, for many months--it may be for years. I don't wantto be hard on you, lad, but it's of no use shiftin' the burden on to thewrong shoulders. It is not Craving but _you_ who are the sinner. Now,as to advice: do you really want it?"
"Well," replied Simkin, with a "humph!" "it will be time enough for youto shut up when I sound the `cease firing!'"
"My advice, then, is that you go down on your knees, plead _guilty_straight off, and ask for grace to help you in you
r time of need."
"What! go down on my knees here before all them Arabs? If I did, they'dnot only laugh at me, but they'd soon rouse me up with their spears."
"I'm not so sure about that, Simkin. Arabs are accustomed to go ontheir own knees a good deal in public. It is chiefly Christians who,strange to say, are ashamed to be caught in that position at odd times.But I speak not of ceremonies, but of realities. A man may go on hisknees, without bending a joint, any time and everywhere. Now, listen:there is this difference between the courts of men and the court ofheaven, that in the former, when a man pleads guilty, his sentence isonly modified and softened, but in the latter, the man who pleads guiltyreceives a free pardon and ultimate deliverance from _all_ sin for thesake of Jesus Christ. Will you accept this deliverance, my friend?"
What the soldier replied in his heart we cannot tell, for his voice wassilent. Before the conversation could be resumed a halt was called, topartake of the midday meal and rest.
That evening the party came upon a strange and animated scene. It wasone of the mountain camps of Osman Digna, where men were assembling fromall quarters, to swell the hordes with which their chief hoped to drivethe hated Europeans into the Red Sea. Camels and other beasts of burdenwere bringing in supplies for the vast army, and to this spot had beenbrought the poor fellows who had been wounded in recent battles.
Here the captives were thrust into a small dark hut and left to theirmeditations, while a couple of Arab sentries guarded the door.
Blue Lights: Hot Work in the Soudan Page 22
