Part 14

The man who had been so desperately wounded was dead. "Nothing could have saved him," Nicholson told me, as though I might think he had not done enough for him. He brightened when he saw how little the scar on my forehead showed.

"A good bit of work--that," he said, quite pleased, and wanted me to take the other four wounded back to the village.

So off we started with them. Two could walk, and we took it in turns to carry the others, for the villagers were much too excited and impatient to realize the necessity for gentleness. They wanted to run along with them as if they had been sacks of potatoes.

Fifty or sixty of the camels were already slowly tramping down the rocky slope ahead of us, and when we reached the village we found them kneeling under the shade of some trees, looking quite contented--that is, if a camel can look contented. The youngsters who had brought them down, and all the women and children in the village, were gathered round in a state of wonderment. The women covered their faces when they saw us; but the children came crowding round us, clapping their little brown hands, and followed us down to the beach, dancing and jumping with glee.

I took the wounded men on board the _Intrepid_, and then went aboard the _Bunder Abbas_, where I had a great reception. Even the dismal cook and his still more dismal "mate" showed symptoms of pleasure, and Mr. Scarlett's face--for once--was beaming. His claw-like hand shot out and gripped mine like a vice. "I've had a terrible bad time of it for the last twenty-four hours, sir. Never thought to see any of you alive again. We all wanted to come along and lend a hand, but you know that we dursn't leave the '_B.A._', sir, don't you?"

He was terrified lest I should think he had failed me. Of course he hadn't.

I sent him, and as many men as could be spared, up to Commander Duckworth, in case they should be needed. They went ashore like a lot of boys, Mr. Scarlett one of the youngest, but had had enough of the sun and hot rocks before they eventually returned. By dark every camel had, somehow or other, been brought down to the village, and by midnight all the rifles and ammunition were aboard the _Intrepid_.

As I looked shorewards to the grim dark mass of mountains towering into the starlit sky, I was most thankful that I had not to spend another night on top of them. We all had had enough excitement to last a long time.

I went across to the _Intrepid_ to gloat over the rifles piled in her battery, and had supper with the Baron. A most joyous and hilarious meal it was. Afterwards Commander Duckworth sent for me to give me orders to proceed to Muscat next morning.

This gave me the chance of putting in a good word for the villagers.

"It does seem precious hard," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "These hundred and thirty or more camels are not the slightest use to them; they dare not take them inland to sell, and those Arab chaps are certain to wipe out every man of them. But what can I do? I can't stay here for ever."

I suggested that he should let them have some of the captured rifles.

"They won't know how to use them," he said; "they'll only shoot each other."

However, he changed his mind next morning, for as I weighed anchor he signalled across: "Am sending fifty rifles and two thousand rounds of ammunition to the village ".

If the inoffensive, childlike villagers would only learn to use them properly, and would guard that gap night and day, they would be safe; but--I knew they would not. They were simply fishermen; they could not spare men from the boats; and after the first few days had passed without anything happening they would imagine themselves safe, or, still more likely, never take any precautions whatsoever, considering it wrong to interfere with "fate".

Just as the _Bunder Abbas_ was shoving off, a native boat came paddling furiously from shore. I stopped my engines, and it came alongside with a couple of sheep--a parting present from my old head-man. Sending back a message of thanks, and dragging them aboard, I went ahead again, wound my way through that extraordinary channel in the cliffs to the open sea, and by sunset found myself once more anchored in Muscat harbour.

It was too late to report myself to the political agent that night, so I went next morning. He heard my news with great satisfaction, said very nice things about my part of the "show", and expressed the opinion that the loss of the valuable caravan would be such a blow to the inland tribes that the gun-running trade would be dead on that part of the coast for many months. He agreed with me that something ought to be done for the villagers, but shook his head when I suggested that the "_B.A._" might be spared to protect them for a few weeks.

"Can't anything be done for them?" I asked anxiously.

"The most I can do," he said, "is to let the local Arab camel dealers know that they have all those camels to sell--almost for the asking. Once they have got rid of them there won't be so much temptation for the Bedouins to attack them."

He did this, and during the afternoon six or seven large trading buggalows glided out of harbour. I hoped that they were off to my village, and, one passing close to the "_B.A._", Mr. Scarlett hailed her to know where she was going.

"Yes," he nodded, after much shouting backward and forward; "they are all on their way there as quickly as they can. They aren't going to let the chance slip; they don't expect those Bedouins will leave the camels there many days."

Poor devils! Precious little profit would they make out of their assistance to us, and precious little would those traders give them.

We "coaled" and "watered" that day, having a good deal of trouble with the natives in the lighters. There was such a swell running into the harbour that we were banging against those lighters rather heavily, and the natives were often frightened to carry the coal on board. Jaffa was ashore, so Mr. Scarlett had to do all the persuading. He was in his element at "persuading". I don't believe he had any more feeling for those chaps than if they'd been dogs.

"There now, that comes of knowing the 'lingo'!" he said cheerfully, when at last the eighteen tons of coal had been stowed below, and he came up on deck to have a drink. "I told them a few things about their grandfathers and fathers, grandmothers and mothers, which fairly got them on the raw."

He was a very strange chap. He would be cheerful and talkative one moment, morbid and taciturn the next--one never knew. I often tried to chaff him out of these fits of depression, told him they were worse at full moon, and joked him about being in love. The moon may have had nothing to do with them; but I often noticed that he grew silent and morose towards sunset, and have often seen him go and hide himself in the cabin or turn his back to it.

Once I asked him why.

"I can't help it, sir; every time I see the sun setting I remember those shadows racing down from the mountains that time Jassim's wife was killed with this," and he tapped his left arm where the bracelet was.

He happened to be quite cheerful that evening, after his successful day's work with the lightermen, so when it was cool I simply forced him to come ashore.

"Come and have a walk; it will do you good," I said, and took him with me in the dinghy. Directly we landed, between the Custom House and the Sultan's palace, he started off along the shore at a great pace, pushing in and out of the Arabs busy loading and unloading dhows as if he never even saw them. As I caught up with him I saw that he was in one of his morbid fits again.

"What's wrong now?" I asked.

"This is the very spot where I stood eighteen years ago and saw the cursed snake for the second time. The Khan of Khamia came down here, and his wives were carried along that passageway--the arm with this bracelet on it showed up just there--there!" and he gripped my arm and pointed, his eyes glittering as if he could really see it again.

"Come along, man; don't be a fool!" I cried angrily; "people will think you mad," and dragged him reluctantly away through narrow, tortuous passages, jostling natives of every black or brown nationality under the sun, and pressing back occasionally against the walls of the miserable houses to let laden donkeys pass. The Eastern smell pervading everything delighted me; it was splendid; but I do not suppose he noticed it. At last we came to the main gate of the town, with its armed guard of ruffianly Arabs, and turned to the right along an open space where many horses were tethered, until we found ourselves close to a wretched mosque and a crowd of idlers lazily listening whilst a decrepit-looking old chap, standing on the steps, read from a paper he was holding. As we pressed through the people I caught the words "Khamia", when Mr. Scarlett stopped suddenly, gripped my arm fiercely, and literally pulled me away. He was shaking all over, and that muddy, frightened expression had come back.

"What the dickens is the matter now?" I asked, very irritated.

"Come back; get back to the '_B.A._,' sir; I can't breathe here."

He let go of my arm and simply ploughed his way through the crowd, and when clear of it actually began running.

I caught him up and stopped him. I was furious.

"Didn't you hear what he was reading?" he said, trembling. "It was the proclamation offering a reward for the 'Twin Death'?"

"That's nothing, man; you know they read it out every few weeks."

"I can't help it, sir; don't leave me, sir! For God's sake get me back to the '_B.A._'! That's not all. I've seen something else."

He would not tell me what, but walked as fast as he could, looking back every other second, with wild eyes, as if he was afraid of being followed. He walked so fast that I could barely keep up with him, and in one street or alleyway, which was fairly empty, he broke into a run again.

He was in a pitiable state of terror, and I was mighty glad when we did at last reach the beach, jump into a shore boat, and get aboard the _Bunder Abbas_.

It was not until he had had a glass of brandy that he began to calm down, and presently he apologized most abjectly for spoiling my walk.

I knew that I should never take him ashore again; I was very irritated. The whole business was so childish. He might take the bracelet off--I would guarantee to have it off in ten minutes--without the least risk.

I tried to argue with him; but it was not of the least use; he only became more agitated. He shut himself in our cabin, and I left him there till Percy announced dinner, with a grin of importance at having provided a special feast for us from one of the sheep those poor devils of villagers had given us.

"Kid-ney on to-ast," he said, his eyes and mouth wide open with delight.

"Come along, Mr. Scarlett!" I shouted, and tried to make him come out.

"I durs'n't yet, sir; I'll wait till it's dark."

"What on earth are you frightened of--now?"

"Of being seen, sir; I durs'n't show myself. Look at those boats there, sir," he said, pointing through the cabin door at some native boats which were passing--such boats were passing at all hours of the day. "He might be there."

"Who? Not that decrepit old chap we saw this afternoon?"

"No," he said, clutching the side of his bunk and looking half-mad; "Jassim! Jassim himself!"

"Jassim? You haven't seen him, have you?" I asked, startled.

"Yes," he groaned; "and he saw me! We came face to face in that crowd outside the mosque. I knew him directly, and he knew me--I'll swear it."

"You're mistaken, man; it couldn't have been he."

Mr. Scarlett shook his head. "No, no! I recollect his face as though it was yesterday--he has a scar on his upper lip, too. No, no! I couldn't make a mistake! He shot out an arm, felt above my elbow, then turned away without a word."

"Touched the bracelet; made sure it was still there, did he?"

Phew! I whistled, and shivered in spite of the terrible heat inside the cabin, for there was something so uncanny about the whole business. If Jassim had recognized him there might be danger--might be very great danger, unless Mr. Scarlett would let me or someone take the cursed thing off his arm. We could not hope that we had escaped by hurrying away. Two Englishmen couldn't walk through the town of Muscat without everyone knowing from where they came. There was not a mail steamer in the harbour, and even if there had been, and we might have been taken for passengers, the native boatmen who had brought us off from shore would give us away. It was very awkward.

"Kid-ney get cold, master," Percy pleaded, with a disappointed look in his face; so I went and tried to eat, sending Mr. Scarlett's share into the cabin.

I ate but little; he ate less. His nervousness and fright were infectious. I began to feel as nervous as a cat. Fearing lest Jassim--if indeed it was Jassim--should try to force his way on board, I gave very stringent orders that no native boat should be allowed to come alongside and no one allowed on board without my permission. I also stopped the leave of the native crew, lest they should be tampered with.

Webster, Moore, and Ellis, who acted as quartermasters, were provided with revolvers, and ordered to use them if anyone did attempt to come aboard during the night. I don't know what they thought had suddenly made this precaution necessary. Certainly the whole crew knew that something had happened, and every one of us was in a horrid state of nerves.

When the sun had set, Mr. Scarlett ventured out for a breath of the hot air. I had a terrible night with him. I had never seen anyone so unmanned as he was. Eventually he did go to sleep, but woke screaming in a hideous nightmare, and there was no more sleep after that--for either of us.

Next morning he would not be content until he had rigged a screen round the little upper deck where the cabin was, and there he stayed, hour after hour, peering through a slit in the canvas, with a pair of field-glasses at his side to scrutinize any approaching boat. This made me more "jumpy" than ever. But a screen would not keep Jassim away, nor did it, and during the forenoon a native boat came pulling towards us with a single Arab in the stern-sheets. Mr. Scarlett called out for me, and I found him yellow with fear, peeping through his screen.

"That's him, sir. He's coming."

"He can't do anything; I won't let him aboard!" I said. "For goodness' sake don't be such a confounded coward."

"But I am a coward! I told you I was a coward. I am, sir; I can't help it;" and he slunk into his cabin and fastened the door.

"No one allowed to come aboard," I reminded Ellis, who happened to be the quartermaster at the time. He waved off the boat, but the Arab forced the boatman to bring it closer, and as I saw him more clearly I gasped with amazement, for I had seen him before; he was the sheikh who had commanded the caravan we had captured--the red-bearded man to whose wounded son I had given water. There could be no possible mistake. His beard was not dyed now, but once having seen this man Jassim---if it was Jassim--there was no forgetting him.

To meet him under these conditions was startling, to say the least of it, and I was quite thrown off my balance. To gain time I told Jaffa to ask him what he wanted.

A long conversation followed, and then Jaffa said: "Say he want very great talk---must have very great talk."

In my own opinion it would have been better to let him come aboard, have the matter out once and for all, and hear what he proposed doing; but the door of the cabin overhead slid back and Mr. Scarlett whispered through the screen: "For God's sake, sir, send him away; don't let him come near me."

So, as my head really was rather dizzy with my discovery, I sent him away, and back he went, never moving a muscle of his face to show that he was disappointed.

I certainly was disappointed; one doesn't meet such people every day, and I should have liked to find out whether his son was alive. One thing, only, I determined on--not to let Mr. Scarlett know that it was his caravan of rifles we had captured, because I knew this would only add to his fright and his fear of impending calamity.

That afternoon a letter was brought off addressed in sprawling letters to the "Officer with black beard, His Britannic Majesty's ship, _Bunder Abbas_."

The quartermaster brought it to me and I took it up to Mr. Scarlett, who seized it with trembling fingers and tore it open. Presently he called me to come to him.

"I've translated it, sir. He wants the snake; he offers me five thousand rupees if only I will let him take it off my arm. He says he does not want to do me any harm, but that he is desperately hard up and must and will have it. It's really a threat, sir," he said, his hands trembling violently.

I guessed why he was so desperately "hard up", though I did not tell Mr. Scarlett, but spent the whole day trying to argue with the poor chap, going over the same old arguments which Baron Popple Opstein and I had used so often--with the added inducement of his now being able to make money by getting rid of the snake.

Every now and again he would almost yield. Then he would remember seeing Jassim's wife dying and that bluejacket clawing his way down to the sea, and he would rock himself from side to side, like a woman in despair, shouting at me that he would sooner be killed than die such a death.

I really thought that he was going mad--as his predecessor had done.

So when Jassim came next morning I sent him away again. Not a flicker of disappointment crossed his face, but as I watched the retreating boat and his motionless back I could not help feeling that we had done a very foolish thing indeed, and that trouble would certainly follow.

Not a soul stirred out of the _Bunder Abbas_ all day; there was a strange sensation of impending trouble, and as darkness fell and the lights of the gloomy, unruly town twinkled out, I felt an unpleasant, gruesome feeling that we had let him go, had lost touch with him, and should not now know when danger threatened or from where. Whether my mind had gradually been influenced by association with Mr. Scarlett or not, yet although I did my utmost to induce myself to believe that there was no danger, the effort was extremely unsuccessful. Jassim now had good reasons for revenge on both of us, and he badly needed money. If he had turned out to be an insignificant nonentity or a mere cadging loafer whose only trace of his former power and dignities remained in his remembrance of them I should not have feared him; but this Jassim was evidently a man of great influence still (you must remember that gun-running or slave-running were then the only aristocratic occupations the sheikhs of the various tribes indulged in), and must even now have powerful friends scattered everywhere who would be only too glad to assist him.

I do not mind saying that it caused me most unpleasant thought, and I was more than ever sorry that we had rebuffed him twice already.

Luckily the _Intrepid_ came in next morning, and I was extremely pleased to receive orders to return to Kalat al Abeid for a fortnight.

Whilst our lascars were raising steam I saw the commander going ashore to call on the political agent, and on his way back he came aboard the _Bunder Abbas_.

"The political agent's delighted with our haul," he said, as I saluted him. "He's mentioning your name in his dispatches to the Indian Government. You ought to get something out of it. You got my orders. Well, you can go there for a fortnight; you can't be spared for longer. Don't get into trouble. You can finish off those leopards. I killed a couple; there are plenty more."

I thanked him very warmly, and as he was shoving off he called out: "They're getting nervous at Jask again. Some brigands of 'sorts' from the hills have been cutting the telegraph line and threatening to burn the telegraph station."

"Is nothing going to be done?" I asked.

"No," he called back. "We've advised them to send away those two ladies--two are there, I hear--but nothing else. They're always crying 'wolf', and we can't keep a ship tied to the telegraph-posts all the time."

I had intended telling him that Jassim was in Muscat, but this news made me forget him and spoilt my pleasure at getting away from Muscat and being able to help my friends the villagers. It made me very uncomfortable to think of those two fragile ladies exposed to such dangers in those sunbaked telegraph buildings on the little promontory of Jask.

We were not ready for sea until next morning, and that night I dreamt that I had to rescue those two ladies, or, rather, choose which I should rescue, and I picked up the little yellow-haired lady with the grey eyes and tried to carry her down to the _Bunder Abbas_; but my foot wouldn't move properly, and an Arab with a flaming-red beard and a knife in his hand would have caught me had I not woke up.

However, if one always worried about dangers which might happen at some uncertain future one's time would be pretty well occupied. When once we were out at sea, and the little "_B.A._" was tumbling about with the tail end of the south-west monsoon swell sliding under her, our cares and troubles seemed quickly blown away. The whole crew had caught some of yesterday's gloom, and they too were now as cheery as schoolboys. Even Moore and Ellis--still enemies--exchanged a few friendly remarks, and the dismal cook and his "mate" chattered to each other as they carried on their everlasting scouring of pots and pans. Mr. Scarlett was a different being altogether. He was his natural colour again, and I could have sworn that he was fatter than the day before. As for Percy, his glistening brown cheeks were split with a smile which extended from ear to ear. He knew that there had been something wrong, that his hero had been in some danger, and his two solemn great eyes followed Mr. Scarlett wherever he moved. To him the gunner was the most wonderful thing his little world held, and if you had seen him squatting in a shady corner outside our cabin, whitening Mr. Scarlett's shoes or helmet, daubing here and there, then waiting for the damp places to dry in the sun, holding them up to see the effect and trying to make them look whiter than any shoes or helmet had been before, you would have felt a great liking for the little chap in his queer surroundings so far from his home and people.

All that day we steamed along that tremendous coast line of cliffs, and whenever some particularly barren rock stuck out into the sea I could not help, for the life of me, picturing the white telegraph buildings at Jask, and remembering the fluttering of a white handkerchief I had once seen waving "good-bye" from the corner near the flagstaff.

"No other tune you know?" Mr. Scarlett asked me cynically, whilst we were thoroughly enjoying the lunch Percy had furnished. "You've been whistling and humming the same old tune for the last three hours."

I'm hanged if I'd known it at the time, but it was "Two Eyes of Grey". Well, to know that those treacherous Afghans were threatening that isolated telegraph station was enough to make anyone think of the little grey-eyed lady imprisoned there.

In the afternoon we passed quite close to one of those buggalows which had gone to Kalat al Abeid to purchase the camels, and her deck was crowded with them. We met another as we threaded our way through the channel cut in the cliffs, also laden with camels. She was drifting out with the tide, and we had some difficulty in passing her.

When we anchored off the village itself, three more were half in, half out of the water, and we could see our friends the villagers trying to persuade more stubborn brutes to climb aboard along sloping gangways.