CHAPTER XXX
THE LAST OF THE SOUTHERN CROSS
The wind blew keen and cold from the north. The camels, freshened by it,trotted out at their fastest pace.
"Quicker," said Trench, between his teeth. "Already Idris may havemissed us."
"Even if he has," replied Feversham, "it will take time to get mentogether for a pursuit, and those men must fetch their camels, andalready it is dark."
But although he spoke hopefully, he turned his head again and againtowards the glare of light above Omdurman. He could no longer hear thetapping of the drums, that was some consolation. But he was in a countryof silence, where men could journey swiftly and yet make no noise. Therewould be no sound of galloping horses to warn him that pursuit was athis heels. Even at that moment the Ansar soldiers might be riding withinthirty paces of them, and Feversham strained his eyes backwards into thedarkness and expected the glimmer of a white turban. Trench, however,never turned his head. He rode with his teeth set, looking forwards. Yetfear was no less strong in him than in Feversham. Indeed, it wasstronger, for he did not look back towards Omdurman because he did notdare; and though his eyes were fixed directly in front of him, thethings which he really saw were the long narrow streets of the townbehind him, the dotted fires at the corners of the streets, and menrunning hither and thither among the houses, making their quick searchfor the two prisoners escaped from the House of Stone.
Once his attention was diverted by a word from Feversham, and heanswered without turning his head:--
"What is it?"
"I no longer see the fires of Omdurman."
"The golden blot, eh, very low down?" Trench answered in an abstractedvoice. Feversham did not ask him to explain what his allusion meant, norcould Trench have disclosed why he had spoken it; the words had comeback to him suddenly with a feeling that it was somehow appropriate thatthe vision which was the last thing to meet Feversham's eyes as he setout upon his mission he should see again now that that mission wasaccomplished. They spoke no more until two figures rose out of thedarkness in front of them, at the very feet of their camels, and AbouFatma cried in a low voice:--
"Instanna!"
They halted their camels and made them kneel.
"The new camels are here?" asked Abou Fatma, and two of the mendisappeared for a few minutes and brought four camels up. Meanwhile thesaddles were unfastened and removed from the camels Trench and hiscompanion had ridden out of Omdurman.
"They are good camels?" asked Feversham, as he helped to fix the saddlesupon the fresh ones.
"Of the Anafi breed," answered Abou Fatma. "Quick! Quick!" and helooked anxiously to the east and listened.
"The arms?" said Trench. "You have them? Where are they?" and he benthis body and searched the ground for them.
"In a moment," said Abou Fatma, but it seemed that Trench could hardlywait for that moment to arrive. He showed even more anxiety to handlethe weapons than he had shown fear that he would be overtaken.
"There is ammunition?" he asked feverishly.
"Yes, yes," replied Abou Fatma, "ammunition and rifles and revolvers."He led the way to a spot about twenty yards from the camels, where somelong desert grass rustled about their legs. He stooped and dug into thesoft sand with his hands.
"Here," he said.
Trench flung himself upon the ground beside him and scooped with bothhands, making all the while an inhuman whimpering sound with his mouth,like the noise a foxhound makes at a cover. There was something ratherhorrible to Feversham in his attitude as he scraped at the ground on hisknees, at the action of his hands, quick like the movements of a dog'spaws, and in the whine of his voice. He was sunk for the time into ananimal. In a moment or two Trench's fingers touched the lock and triggerof a rifle, and he became man again. He stood up quietly with the riflein his hands. The other arms were unearthed, the ammunition shared.
"Now," said Trench, and he laughed with a great thrill of joy in thelaugh. "Now I don't mind. Let them follow from Omdurman! One thing iscertain now: I shall never go back there; no, not even if they overtakeus," and he fondled the rifle which he held and spoke to it as though itlived.
Two of the Arabs mounted the old camels and rode slowly away toOmdurman. Abou Fatma and the other remained with the fugitives. Theymounted and trotted northeastwards. No more than a quarter of an hourhad elapsed since they had first halted at Abou Fatma's word.
All that night they rode through halfa grass and mimosa trees and wentbut slowly, but they came about sunrise on to flat bare ground brokenwith small hillocks.
"Are the Effendi tired?" asked Abou Fatma. "Will they stop and eat?There is food upon the saddle of each camel."
"No; we can eat as we go."
Dates and bread and a draught of water from a zamsheyeh made up theirmeal, and they ate it as they sat their camels. These, indeed, now thatthey were free of the long desert grass, trotted at their quickest pace.And at sunset that evening they stopped and rested for an hour. Allthrough that night they rode and the next day, straining their ownendurance and that of the beasts they were mounted on, now ascending onto high and rocky ground, now traversing a valley, and now trotting fastacross plains of honey-coloured sand. Yet to each man the pace seemedalways as slow as a funeral. A mountain would lift itself above the rimof the horizon at sunrise, and for the whole livelong day it stoodbefore their eyes, and was never a foot higher or an inch nearer. Attimes, some men tilling a scanty patch of sorghum would send thefugitives' hearts leaping in their throats, and they must make a widedetour; or again a caravan would be sighted in the far distance by thekeen eyes of Abou Fatma, and they made their camels kneel and laycrouched behind a rock, with their loaded rifles in their hands. Tenmiles from Abu Klea a relay of fresh camels awaited them, and upon thesethey travelled, keeping a day's march westward of the Nile. Thence theypassed through the desert country of the Ababdeh, and came in sight of abroad grey tract stretching across their path.
"The road from Berber to Merowi," said Abou Fatma. "North of it we turneast to the river. We cross that road to-night; and if God wills,to-morrow evening we shall have crossed the Nile."
"If God wills," said Trench. "If only He wills," and he glanced abouthim in a fear which only increased the nearer they drew towards safety.They were in a country traversed by the caravans; it was no longer safeto travel by day. They dismounted, and all that day they lay hiddenbehind a belt of shrubs upon some high ground and watched the road andthe people like specks moving along it. They came down and crossed it inthe darkness, and for the rest of that night travelled hard towards theriver. As the day broke Abou Fatma again bade them halt. They were in adesolate open country, whereon the smallest protection was magnified bythe surrounding flatness. Feversham and Trench gazed eagerly to theirright. Somewhere in that direction and within the range of theireyesight flowed the Nile, but they could not see it.
"We must build a circle of stones," said Abou Fatma, "and you must lieclose to the ground within it. I will go forward to the river, and seethat the boat is ready and that our friends are prepared for us. I shallcome back after dark."
They gathered the stones quickly and made a low wall about a foot high;within this wall Feversham and Trench laid themselves down upon theground with a water-skin and their rifles at their sides.
"You have dates, too," said Abou Fatma.
"Yes."
"Then do not stir from the hiding-place till I come back. I will takeyour camels, and bring you back fresh ones in the evening." And incompany with his fellow-Arab he rode off towards the river.
Trench and Feversham dug out the sand within the stones and lay down,watching the horizon between the interstices. For both of them thisperhaps was the longest day of their lives. They were so near to safetyand yet not safe. To Trench's thinking it was longer than a night in theHouse of Stone, and to Feversham longer than even one of those days sixyears back when he had sat in his rooms above St. James's Park andwaited for the night to fall before he dared venture out into thestreets.
They were so near to Berber, and the pursuit must needs beclose behind. Feversham lay wondering how he had ever found the courageto venture himself in Berber. They had no shade to protect them; all daythe sun burnt pitilessly upon their backs, and within the narrow circleof stones they had no room wherein to move. They spoke hardly at all.The sunset, however, came at the last, the friendly darkness gatheredabout them, and a cool wind rustled through the darkness across thedesert.
"Listen!" said Trench; and both men as they strained their ears heardthe soft padding of camels very near at hand. A moment later a lowwhistle brought them out of their shelter.
"We are here," said Feversham, quietly.
"God be thanked!" said Abou Fatma. "I have good news for you, and badnews too. The boat is ready, our friends are waiting for us, camels areprepared for you on the caravan track by the river-bank to Abu Hamed.But your escape is known, and the roads and the ferries are closelywatched. Before sunrise we must have struck inland from the eastern bankof the Nile."
They crossed the river cautiously about one o'clock of the morning, andsank the boat upon the far side of the stream. The camels were waitingfor them, and they travelled inland and more slowly than suited theanxiety of the fugitives. For the ground was thickly covered withboulders, and the camels could seldom proceed at any pace faster than awalk. And all through the next day they lay hidden again within a ringof stones while the camels were removed to some high ground where theycould graze. During the next night, however, they made good progress,and, coming to the groves of Abu Hamed in two days, rested for twelvehours there and mounted upon a fresh relay. From Abu Hamed their roadlay across the great Nubian Desert.
Nowadays the traveller may journey through the two hundred and fortymiles of that waterless plain of coal-black rocks and yellow sand, andsleep in his berth upon the way. The morning will show to him, perhaps,a tent, a great pile of coal, a water tank, and a number painted on awhite signboard, and the stoppage of the train will inform him that hehas come to a station. Let him put his head from the window, he will seethe long line of telegraph poles reaching from the sky's rim behind himto the sky's rim in front, and huddling together, as it seems, with lessand less space between them the farther they are away. Twelve hours willenclose the beginning and the end of his journey, unless the enginebreak down or the rail be blocked. But in the days when Feversham andTrench escaped from Omdurman progression was not so easy a matter. Theykept eastward of the present railway and along the line of wells amongthe hills. And on the second night of this stage of their journey Trenchshook Feversham by the shoulders and waked him up.
"Look," he said, and he pointed to the south. "To-night there's noSouthern Cross." His voice broke with emotion. "For six years, for everynight of six years, until this night, I have seen the Southern Cross.How often have I lain awake watching it, wondering whether the nightwould ever come when I should not see those four slanting stars! I tellyou, Feversham, this is the first moment when I have really dared tothink that we should escape."
Both men sat up and watched the southern sky with prayers ofthankfulness in their hearts; and when they fell asleep it was only towake up again and again with a fear that they would after all still seethat constellation blazing low down towards the earth, and to fallasleep again confident of the issue of their desert ride. At the end ofseven days they came to Shof-el-Ain, a tiny well set in a barren valleybetween featureless ridges, and by the side of that well they camped.They were in the country of the Amrab Arabs, and had come to an end oftheir peril.
"We are safe," cried Abou Fatma. "God is good. Northwards to Assouan,westwards to Wadi Halfa, we are safe!" And spreading a cloth upon theground in front of the kneeling camels, he heaped dhurra before them. Heeven went so far in his gratitude as to pat one of the animals upon theneck, and it immediately turned upon him and snarled.
Trench reached out his hand to Feversham.
"Thank you," he said simply.
"No need of thanks," answered Feversham, and he did not take the hand."I served myself from first to last."
"You have learned the churlishness of a camel," cried Trench. "A camelwill carry you where you want to go, will carry you till it drops dead,and yet if you show your gratitude it resents and bites. Hang it all,Feversham, there's my hand."
Feversham untied a knot in the breast of his jibbeh and took out threewhite feathers, two small, the feathers of a heron, the other large, anostrich feather broken from a fan.
"Will you take yours back?"
"Yes."
"You know what to do with it."
"Yes. There shall be no delay."
Feversham wrapped the remaining feathers carefully away in a corner ofhis ragged jibbeh and tied them safe.
"We shake hands, then," said he; and as their hands met he added,"To-morrow morning we part company."
"Part company, you and I--after the year in Omdurman, the weeks offlight?" exclaimed Trench. "Why? There's no more to be done. Castleton'sdead. You keep the feather which he sent, but he is dead. You can donothing with it. You must come home."
"Yes," answered Feversham, "but after you, certainly not with you. Yougo on to Assouan and Cairo. At each place you will find friends towelcome you. I shall not go with you."
Trench was silent for a while. He understood Feversham's reluctance, hesaw that it would be easier for Feversham if he were to tell his storyfirst to Ethne Eustace, and without Feversham's presence.
"I ought to tell you no one knows why you resigned your commission, orof the feathers we sent. We never spoke of it. We agreed never to speak,for the honour of the regiment. I can't tell you how glad I am that weall agreed and kept to the agreement," he said.
"Perhaps you will see Durrance," said Feversham; "if you do, give him amessage from me. Tell him that the next time he asks me to come and seehim, whether it is in England or Wadi Halfa, I will accept theinvitation."
"Which way will you go?"
"To Wadi Halfa," said Feversham, pointing westwards over his shoulder."I shall take Abou Fatma with me and travel slowly and quietly down theNile. The other Arab will guide you into Assouan."
They slept that night in security beside the well, and the next morningthey parted company. Trench was the first to ride off, and as his camelrose to its feet, ready for the start, he bent down towards Feversham,who passed him the nose rein.
"Ramelton, that was the name? I shall not forget."
"Yes, Ramelton," said Feversham; "there's a ferry across Lough Swilly toRathmullen. You must drive the twelve miles to Ramelton. But you may notfind her there."
"If not there, I shall find her somewhere else. Make no mistake,Feversham, I shall find her."
And Trench rode forward, alone with his Arab guide. More than once heturned his head and saw Feversham still standing by the well; more thanonce he was strongly drawn to stop and ride back to that solitaryfigure, but he contented himself with waving his hand, and even thatsalute was not returned.
Feversham, indeed, had neither thought nor eyes for the companion of hisflight. His six years of hard probation had come this morning to an end,and yet he was more sensible of a certain loss and vacancy than of anyjoy. For six years, through many trials, through many falterings, hismission had strengthened and sustained him. It seemed to him now thatthere was nothing more wherewith to occupy his life. Ethne? No doubt shewas long since married ... and there came upon him all at once a greatbitterness of despair for that futile, unnecessary mistake made by himsix years ago. He saw again the room in London overlooking the quiettrees and lawns of St. James's Park, he heard the knock upon the door,he took the telegram from his servant's hand.
He roused himself finally with the recollection that, after all, thework was not quite done. There was his father, who just at this momentwas very likely reading his _Times_ after breakfast upon the terrace ofBroad Place among the pine trees upon the Surrey hills. He must visithis father, he must take that fourth feather back to Ramelton. There wasa telegram, too, which must be sent to Lieutenan
t Sutch at Suakin.
He mounted his camel and rode slowly with Abou Fatma westwards towardsWadi Halfa. But the sense of loss did not pass from him that day, norhis anger at the act of folly which had brought about his downfall. Thewooded slopes of Ramelton were very visible to him across the shimmer ofthe desert air. In the greatness of his depression Harry Feversham uponthis day for the first time doubted his faith in the "afterwards."
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