CHAPTER II

Under Fire

AN hour later Lieutenant Chigi Riefi, having completed his watch on deck, returned to his cabin. Both lads sprang to their feet in anticipation as the door opened, and the astonishment of the English youths and the young Italian officer was mutual.

The lieutenant began to pour out a series of rapid questions. Hugh, on his part, with his limited knowledge of Italian, was unable to follow his questioner, whose perplexity increased when he found that he had two foreigners in possession of his cabin.

But by degrees he calmed down, and, when in broken words Hugh explained why they were waiting there, the lieutenant told the lads that a serious mistake had occurred--far more awkward than it appeared to be at first sight.

"There is no Signor Reeves on board this ship," said Riefi. "It is against strict orders for any civilians, especially foreigners, to be on board. You must be brought before the captain at once. But do not be alarmed on that score; we can see that a real mistake has been made. Unfortunately, you must come with us to Tripoli. No doubt the Commander-in-Chief will have you sent back by the first available ship."

"But our friends--they will be in a terrible fright!"

The Italian shrugged his shoulders.

"_Corpo di Baccho!_" he exclaimed; "there will be many terrible frights before this affair is over. But stay here; I must inform the captain."

"We're in a hole," remarked Hugh dolefully, when the two chums found themselves once more alone.

"Never mind, Rags! We're here, and all the moaning in the world won't alter the case. Perhaps they will send a wireless message."

"I won't mind so much if they do. In fact, I would rather enjoy the fun. What will the other fellows say when they hear we've been to a real war--none of your public-school field days? Besides, Mr. Reeves will be there to give an eye to us."

"I'm afraid Mr. Reeves will have other things to attend to," replied Gerald. "But here they come, so stand by for a good wigging."

The lieutenant returned, accompanied by the captain of the ship and an army officer; but, greatly to the lads' relief, the Italian officials treated them with every consideration. To their disappointment, however, the boys were informed that the _Victor Stroggia_ was not fitted with "wireless"; but directly she came within signalling distance of any of her consorts thus provided, the news of their presence would be sent for transmission to Naples.

"You may go on deck if you wish," continued the captain, speaking slowly and distinctly, so that Hugh could follow him. "We will provide you with meals, and Lieutenant Riefi is willing for you to sleep on the floor of his cabin. But don't, for your own sakes, get into mischief."

Hugh thanked the captain on behalf of Gerald and himself, and when the officers had withdrawn, the lads lost no time in availing themselves of the permission to go on deck.

It was now nearly sunset. Away on the port quarter could be discerned the rugged outlines of the mountainous Italian peninsula. Astern, the island of Capri was a good ten miles off, while a thin column of smoke, standing out clearly against the bright sky, marked the position of the smouldering volcano of Vesuvius. Quite three miles ahead, four transports were ploughing steadily along, their funnels belching out clouds of flame-tinged vapour; while two more ships followed the _Victor Stroggia_ at about the same distance astern.

Up to the present, being in safe waters, there had been no fear of interruption from the Turkish torpedo vessels which, according to Italian reports, had left the Golden Horn. Nevertheless, had a daring Turkish commander made a raid upon the struggling and unescorted transports, the result would have been disastrous to the Italian arms.

At night, however, precautions were taken against attack. The transports steamed with screened lights, silence was strictly enjoined, and the troops were forbidden to smoke. But nothing untoward happened, and when the two lads arose from their comfortable bed on the floor, and looked through the now open scuttle, they saw that they were still within sight of land--the island of Sicily.

Here was the transports' rendezvous, and under a powerful escort of battleships the fleet headed for the African shore; and just after sunrise on the following morning the lads had their first glimpse of the glaring white houses and minarets of Tripoli.

Suddenly a burst of cheering came from one of the transports. The shout was taken up by the other vessels, till the air re-echoed to the tumultuous roar. Tripoli had been bombarded. The powerful ordnance of the modern battleships of the Italians had been let loose against the crumbling brickwork and mud walls of the antiquated defences. A glorious victory! Adowa was avenged!

Already the town of Tripoli was in the hands of the victorious sailors and marines. The Italian tricolour floated over the forts, while several of the timorous inhabitants did not hesitate to display the red, white, and green flag from the flat roofs of their closely-barricaded dwellings.

"Mr. Reeves will be too late after all," remarked Gerald.

"It seems like it. However, I think the troops are beginning to disembark. I wish they would let us go ashore."

But no: to the lads' entreaties the Italian captain gave a polite yet firm refusal. No foreigners, other than accredited war correspondents, were allowed to land, pending definite orders from General Caneva, the Commander-in-Chief.

Four days passed. The transport, denuded of troops, still lay in the roadstead. Occasionally a few shots were fired by the Arabs and Turks, who had retreated to an oasis on the fringe of the desert, to which the Italian troops would reply by frantic volleys. But most of the time was spent by the invaders in throwing up earthworks and erecting wire entanglements; for, in spite of their numbers, the Italians did not treat their fierce and swift-moving foes with a contempt that other civilized nations have had to pay dearly for under similar circumstances.

Meanwhile, the lads had contrived to send a message to Hugh's parents at Naples, and, having fulfilled their obligations as best they could, they settled themselves wholeheartedly to making the best of their novel experience.

On the morning of the fifth day they were called from the cabin, where they had been temporarily installed, and to their delight found that Mr. Reeves was awaiting them on the deck.

"You're a fine pair of rascals," he exclaimed; "causing your people no end of anxiety!" The war correspondent had heard the particulars of their adventure almost as soon as the _Victor Strozzi_ reached Tripoli. The news of how two English lads had evaded the Commander-in-Chief's express orders had spread through the fleet, the transports, and the army; and Arthur Reeves heard of it from a fellow correspondent directly he set foot ashore.

"The dad knows all about it by now," replied Hugh; "so he won't mind."

"He'll be glad to see you back," said Mr. Reeves grimly. "You are to return by the _Aleppo_. She sails for Brindisi the day after to-morrow."

"Hard lines!" ejaculated Hugh. "But since we've one clear day, couldn't you take us ashore? There's not much doing at present--I mean, you're not very busy, are you?"

"Not more than usual," replied Mr. Reeves meaningly. "However, if you promise not to get into mischief, I'll see what can be done."

In less than half an hour the war correspondent returned with the welcome news that the lads could go ashore as soon as they were able, with the proviso that they were to be under Mr. Reeves's direct supervision, and were not to approach within one kilometre of the firing line.

"That's fair and reasonable, you must understand," concluded their newly-appointed guardian. "The Italian officials are trusting you, and if anything goes wrong I must be responsible; so remember! Boys will be boys, I know; but don't betray the confidence that is placed in you."

Hugh and Gerald gave the required promise. A boat was lying at the gangway of the _Victor Stroggia_, and into this the three Englishmen stepped. As the boat shot under the stern of the ship, Mr. Reeves pointed to a small craft of about twenty tons, painted black, with felucca rig.

"That's the _Victor Strozzi_," he announced. "Not much resemblance between the two vessels, eh?"

"She's rather small to make such a long voyage."

"But perfectly seaworthy. She was as lively as a top. My bones haven't ceased to ache yet."

On landing, they were stopped by a sentry, who demanded the Englishman's permit. This was immediately produced. The man looked at it as if he understood, and returned the document.

"When I landed just after sunrise this morning I found that I had left my permit on board," said Mr. Reeves. "As I did not want to return for it, I gave the sentry the first piece of paper I came across in my pocket. That passed me all right; but what do you think it was?"

"An hotel bill?"

"Good shot, but not quite right. A receipted account for a hundred cigars!"

"There's not much damage done!" remarked Gerald.

"Disappointed, eh? It's a good job there isn't, or the natives wouldn't take things so calmly. Look at that benevolent old chap!" Mr. Reeves pointed to a tall Arab with an almost Hebraic cast of features, who, swathed in white from head to foot, was calmly sitting on an empty ammunition case and eating dates.

"He would be a nasty customer if rubbed up the wrong way; but the Italians have had the good sense and taste to respect the Moslem religion. Now observe that fellow, as docile as a cat in spite of his looks."

The second native was of a totally different type from the first. He was tall, lithe, and long-limbed, with negro features and a dark skin that contrasted vividly with the almost olive complexion of the other.

"He's an Arab from the desert, closely related to the Baggaras, who played the dickens with our troops when they broke the square at Tamai and El Teb. It's a marvel to me how the Arabs knuckle under so calmly. Frankly, I don't like the look of things, but it's not my place to offer advice."

Along the almost deserted streets stepped the war correspondent and his youthful companions. Every now and again a stretcher party would be met, one with their burden lying motionless and still, another with a soldier groaning and cursing in his agony: while from the distant desert came the rattle of musketry, punctuated by the deeper reports of the light field guns.

"Here we stop," exclaimed Mr. Reeves, as they gained a slight rise in the mimosa-studded sand. "You can see the firing line fairly distinctly, and we are less than a quarter of a mile from the supports. Take my glasses, Hugh, and you will bring the men within a few yards of you."

Hugh Frazer looked long and earnestly. He saw war almost face to face--merely a fringe of men firing from behind trenches, with smokeless powder, at an unseen foe.

"Is that all?" he asked disappointedly.

"Quite enough for you to see, Hugh," replied Mr. Reeves. "The other side of the picture is fortunately not visible."

"How about it, Rags?" exclaimed Gerald. "When are you going to give me a chance with those glasses?"

"Here you are, then." Hugh handed his chum the binoculars, and the next moment cried excitedly: "Look, Mr. Reeves, they've caught an Arab!"

Trudging across the sand came three Italian infantrymen. At a distance they looked very similar to English "Tommies" in their greenish-grey uniforms and tropical helmets; but on coming closer their rope-soled shoes, and gaiters, and rifles with long sword bayonets made the resemblance less apparent. Between two of the men walked a white-robed Arab, his hands tied behind his back, and his head held defiantly erect. The third soldier marched three paces in the rear.

This group formed but part of a long, straggling procession that seemed to increase in numbers rather than diminish, for men were falling fast, in spite of their shelter trenches.

"What are they going to do with that prisoner?" asked Gerald.

"Take him into the town and lock him up, I suppose," replied Mr. Reeves.

"There's another, and---- Oh!" Hugh's words broke into an exclamation of surprise, and he pointed excitedly in the direction of a thick clump of palms less than a quarter of a mile to the right.

"A flank attack," replied Mr. Reeves calmly, although he realized that they were in a very awkward predicament; for out of the oasis poured a swarm of Arabs, mounted and on foot, racing at headlong speed upon the Italian rearguard. "Come along; we must place a safe distance between us and those fellows," he continued. "Make for that hollow. Don't show yourselves more than you can help."

"Is there any danger?" asked Gerald. The usual smile had left his face.

"Mistakes might happen. Those Arabs won't stop to question us, I fancy. Now, lie down."

A rapid glance in the direction of the town showed the war correspondent that all retreat was cut off. Even from the houses on the outskirts a ragged musketry fire was opened upon the totally unprepared Italians.

Like a whirlwind the Arabs fell upon the stretcher bearers. Two-handed swords and keen, broad-bladed spears completed the work that bullets had begun. Here and there the entrapped Italians, standing in little knots shoulder to shoulder over their helpless charges, fired rapidly upon their treacherous attackers; but, overborne by weight of numbers, they were literally cut to pieces. Then, having cut the way for a flank attack, the Arabs resumed their rifle fire upon the firing line of the Italians.

Slowly and surely the fierce sons of the Prophet were drawing nearer to the shallow defile in which Mr. Reeves and his youthful charges were lying.

The war correspondent was calm, but deathly pale. His thoughts were not for himself, but for the two lads whose idle curiosity had led them into the present danger. He could see by the massacre of the ambulance men that no mercy was to be expected of the lawless children of the desert. Barely twenty yards from where they lay grew a clump of prickly mimosa. The scrub might conceal two persons.

"Be quick, lads!" said the correspondent sternly. "Crawl to that bush and hide."

"And you?" asked Gerald.

"Never mind me; do as you're told. I can look after myself. Obey instantly!" There was such a menacing ring in Arthur Reeves's voice that the lads could not but do as they were ordered. Unseen they gained the scanty place of concealment, and, torn by the sharp spikes, contrived to crawl into shelter.

"It's a bare chance for the boys," muttered the Englishman, as he drew his Mauser pistol from its holster. "I'll shout to those fellows, but I'm afraid it won't be much use.... I hope my notebook will be found and sent home when this business is over."

Then, remembering that his chance would be slightly improved if he appeared to be weaponless, he thrust the pistol into the pocket of his coat, set his jaw tightly, and waited.

Already the Arabs were within a hundred yards. Their impetuous rush had been checked by the fire of the rear rank of the Italians and by the shrapnel fire from the guns of the fleet; nevertheless they came on dauntlessly, in the firm belief that Paradise would be their reward could they but slay an infidel ere they kissed the burning sand.

Suddenly Reeves saw a faint gleam of hope. Coming towards the wadi were an officer and three soldiers. By their red tarbooshes the correspondent knew them to be Turks. Evidently they had been prisoners, but had taken advantage of the confusion to slip away from their captors, and were making their way towards the oasis where the remnants of the Turkish garrison had taken refuge.

Springing from the shelter of the hollow, Reeves ran straight for the advancing Turks. A spluttering volley was aimed at him, till, realizing, in spite of their fanatical hatred of the Kafir, that there was a possibility of harming their fellow Moslems, the Arabs ceased to fire.

As for the Turks, being unarmed and seeing a Giaour rushing at them, they hesitated; but when they found that he was alone, and apparently unarmed, they faced the fugitive.

"Effendi, Effendi, I am English!" exclaimed Reeves breathlessly.

"An Englishman is a true friend of the Ottoman," replied the Turkish officer. "By the beard of the Prophet, I will befriend thee."

But the Turk had no easy task. Placing the correspondent between his men, he advanced, and shouted to the maddened Arabs to stay their hands. For a moment it seemed as if the fanatics were beyond control. Some swept past the officer and dashed at the hated infidel. Spearheads gleamed in the Sunlight; rifle barrels were pointed full at the Englishman's head, although the Turkish soldiers loyally obeyed their superior's orders, and attempted to interpose their bodies between the menacing weapons and their intended victim. Yet the Arabs hesitated. They failed to understand the meaning of the Turkish officer's solicitude. He spoke again, with vehemence and authority. The tension was relaxed.

The Arabs rushed off to find fresh victims, and for the time being Arthur Reeves was safe.

"Effendi, if you would break bread again you must come with us," said the officer. "This day the sons of the Prophet have tasted the fruits of victory. The soldiers of Italy have bit the dust. Ere night not one will be left upon the shores of Tripoli. But fear not. I swear by the Koran that your life will be safe."

The correspondent knit his brows in perplexity.

"Do not hesitate," continued the Turk earnestly. "Over yonder you will be safe, for in the oasis you will find Skilanda Bey, whose love for England passes understanding. To-morrow, or perchance the next day, you will be free to cross the sea, if so be one vessel of the Giaours be left in the roadstead."

"But I am not alone," replied Mr. Reeves. "I have two young comrades----"

"Italians?"

"No, English."

"Then let them also come and fear not. Quickly, lest harm befall them!" for a shell from one of the battleships had exploded barely a hundred yards from the spot where the Turks were standing.

"Hugh, come along," shouted Mr. Reeves. "Come along, both of you."

Without hesitation, though terribly frightened, the lads obeyed. From their place of concealment they had seen everything that had occurred, and even now were in doubt as to the intentions of their companion's supposed captors.

"We're in a mess, lads," remarked Mr. Reeves calmly, as the two boys, with their faces, hands, and clothing torn by the sharp spikes of the mimosa, came up to where he was standing. "We are practically prisoners of war. Goodness only knows what's happened to the Italian troops. They are still firing, I hear, but the sound seems to be dying away."

"Where are we being taken to?"

"To the oasis. The remnants of the Turkish garrison are there. I don't think we are in danger, although the situation is extremely awkward."

Escorted by the Ottoman soldiers, Mr. Reeves and his companions trudged across the hot sand, the lads shudderingly averting their faces as they passed the numerous motionless bodies of the slaughtered Italian soldiers. They were beginning to learn something of the dark side of war.

And now from the direction of the town the sound of firing began to increase. The Italian infantry were moving to the support of their comrades on the fringe of the desert; sullenly the Arabs gave way before them, and began to stream back upon the oasis.

Unfortunately for the three English prisoners there was no sign of Skilanda Bey and the remainder of the Turkish regiments. They had taken up a position fully two miles away, and were pushing home a counter-attack upon an Italian redoubt. This the Turkish officer learnt from a wounded compatriot.

"My place is with my regiment, Effendi," said he to the correspondent; "so I must leave you. But these three soldiers will stand by you. There is nothing to fear."

The next instant the kindly Ottoman was gone, and Arthur Reeves, not without misgivings, found himself and his charges in the midst of a horde of Arabs, with only the possibility of three Turkish privates saving them from indignity, perhaps death. Nevertheless, with the object of his life's work before him, the correspondent kept his glasses bearing upon the distant battlefield, keenly intent upon striking and unique copy for the _London Intelligence_.

Suddenly a shell, fired at a high angle from one of the battleships, burst fairly in the midst of a group of retreating Arabs, barely two hundred yards from the edge of a cluster of palm trees. The men broke into a run, leaving what looked like a smudge of dirty white garments on the dazzling sand.

Then another missile, hissing overhead, plunged into the oasis. This was quickly followed by a third. The Arabs lying under cover began to give way.

"That's good!" muttered the correspondent. "If this goes on we can make a dash for it. These fellows will pass well on our left."

Unfortunately another shell, falling on the flank of the now demoralized fugitives, caused them to swerve to the right, and, bursting through the scrub, they gained the oasis close to where Reeves and his companions were standing.

No sooner did they catch a glimpse of the hated Kafirs than, forgetting their panic, they surrounded the three Turkish soldiers and their charges. Once more spears and rifles were raised menacingly, while the Turks yelled their hardest in an endeavour to fulfil their superior's orders.

Thrusting his compatriots aside, a tall, brown-featured Arab, with a long black beard, grabbed one of the Turks by the shoulder.

"In the name of Allah the all-powerful, who are these infidels?" he shouted.

"They are Inglees, under the protection of Bimbashi Ali," replied the man. "These Inglees are indeed the friends of the Ottoman."

"Nevertheless they may not be the friends of the true sons of the Prophet," replied the Arab, his dark eyes flashing. "Yet, since they be of a different tribe from yonder Kafirs, I will give them life. Seize and bear them hence."

In a moment Arthur Reeves was secured, his arms being bound behind his back with a leather thong. He offered no resistance--since resistance would have made matters worse; but in spite of this passiveness his clothes were torn from his back by his captors in their efforts to possess themselves of his watch, pistol, ammunition, and other effects. Hugh and Gerald fared much the same, the latter's watch being the cause of a tough struggle between a Baggara and a Tunisian Arab. Eventually the Baggara got possession of a badly-damaged timepiece, and the other man secured three pieces of a broken chain.

"Make the best of it, lads," exclaimed the correspondent, as cheerfully as he could. "They are not going to kill us."

"Silence, Kafir!" ordered the sheikh, dealing the Englishman a heavy blow across the mouth. "Walk, and that quickly, lest you feel the point of a knife betwixt your ribs."

Additionally secured by a camel rope, the three Englishmen began their march into a long and terrible captivity.