Chapter Nineteen.
The Emir’s Son.
It was a strange experience to sit outside the tent door that night, breathing the soft moist air which seemed so different from the dry, harsh, parching wind of the desert. There was the pleasant scent of growing plants, too, rising from wherever the overflow from the fountains permeated the sand, quite unseen in the broad sunshine, but showing its effect in a blush of green which gradually grew less and less, till at a few hundred yards from the rocks and pools it died right away and all was arid barrenness once more.
Now and then a wailing howl came from a distance, to be answered here and there by the prowling animals which scented the food of the camp, and hung about waiting till the caravans had passed on to make a rush in safety for the scraps that were left, with the result that the neighbourhood of the pools and wells was found free from all refuse by the next comers.
The Hakim’s party was too weary with the nervous excitement and hard labour of the past day to talk much, finding it pleasanter to sit or recline and listen to the various sounds that reached their ears from the Baggara camp or far out in the desert, till after being absent for some little time the Sheikh came softly up to the tent and waited to be questioned. He did not have to wait long, for the professor attacked him at once.
“Well, Ibrahim,” he said, “what news?”
“Little, Excellency. The Baggara have sentries out all round the camp.”
“And ours?”
“Yes, Excellency; we are prisoners.”
“But in no danger?”
“No, Excellency. It is peace between us and the fighting men. But if they are attacked in the night or just before daybreak we are in bad company, as you would say, and we shall perish with these tribesmen if they are beaten.”
“That sounds bad,” said the professor. “But look here, who is likely to attack their camp?”
“Who can say, Excellency? Like the people of old, their hand is against every man, and every man’s hand is against them. They are wandering about harassing villages, plundering, and making slaves. Some of the village people may take heart and join together to slay them; or the Khedive’s men may hear of their being in the neighbourhood, and come from boats upon the river. There may be soldiers of your own journeying south, who, hearing from spies that a party of the Khalifa’s men have come so far north, would be sure to try and scatter them like the sand before the storm.”
“But, on the other hand,” said the doctor quietly, “none of these things may happen, and we may sleep in peace and trust that all will be well.”
“Yes, Excellency; that is what we must do always.”
“Then let us sleep while we can,” said the doctor. “I am very weary, and there is sure to be plenty more hard work to-morrow.”
The Hakim’s words were taken as law, and as there were very few preparations to make, a short time only elapsed before all were sleeping soundly, it being deemed superfluous to attempt to watch, since they were utterly helpless in the enemy’s hands.
At such a time restless wakefulness might have been expected, but sleep came, deep and refreshing, out in the desert whenever they were in the neighbourhood of water. Frank lay thinking of the day’s work with its risks and chances, and then of his brother far away to the south; but in about a quarter of an hour he was sleeping soundly as the rest, till hours had passed, when, as if conscious of something being near, he awoke suddenly, to find that all was dark and so still that, setting down his feelings to imagination, he sank back, with a sigh, and was dropping off to sleep again when from far away out in the desert there was the shrill neigh of a horse, and he started up again, to hear the challenge answered from where the Baggara horses and camels were picketed or lying about.
This was startling, suggesting as it did the approach of other horsemen, who might be inimical and about to attack. On the other hand, though, he reasoned that a single horse might have broken away from where it was tethered. He recalled, too, what the Sheikh had said about sentries being scattered about so that no danger could approach without an alarm being given, and he was settling down once more when, plainly enough and increasing in loudness, there came through the darkness of the night the dull, rustling trampling of horses coming at a sharp canter over the sand.
But for a minute or so there was no warning uttered—no cry of alarm. Then all at once there was a shout and a reply. Silence again, and Frank lay wondering whether this was a good or evil sign, since a sentry might have been cut down at once.
Then voices were plainly heard as of people talking loudly, and it seemed to be impossible that this could mean danger. So he lay still, making out by degrees that a large body of horsemen had ridden up, and from the talking that went on there seemed to be no doubt that earlier in the night this party must have gone out upon a reconnaissance while the Sheikh’s party slept, and that this was their return.
Certainly there was no danger, for by degrees the various sounds died out, and all was still.
Frank’s eyes closed once more, and his next awakening was at broad day, to find that a fire was burning and that Sam and his help from the camel-drivers were busy preparing for the morning meal, while the Sheikh and his men were as busy seeing to the camels, after being in doubt as to whether they would be there.
But there had been no interference with anything belonging to the Hakim’s party, and the old man was evidently fairly contented in mind as he made his report about what he knew of the night’s proceedings.
His first and most important announcement was that the Baggara chiefs force had been nearly doubled during the night, it seeming probable that the water-holes had been made the place of meeting for a divided force. The question that troubled the party now was whether the newcomers would prove well disposed; but they were not long left in doubt, for quite early in the morning the Baggara chief made his appearance for his wound to be dressed, and smiled with satisfaction at the change in its state.
“Tell the Hakim,” he said, “that he is great, and that he can stay here to rest his camels till to-morrow, and then he shall come with us.”
This was as he was about to leave the Hakim’s presence, with his injured arm resting comfortably in its sling, and he turned away at once.
“Nolens volens, Frank,” said the professor; “but so far nothing could be better for us. Look here, another present.”
For three men were approaching with a kid, dates, and bananas, and in addition one of them bore a handsome large rug, evidently intended for the Hakim’s use.
The men approached with the same deference that they had displayed on the previous day, and then departed; but before they were half over the space which divided the two camps, a party of five men were seen approaching, one of whom was mounted upon a cream-coloured horse, two others supporting him as he swayed to and fro, apparently quite unable to retain his seat.
It was the avant-garde of the patients the Hakim was to treat that day, and coming as it did on the Baggara chiefs announcement that they were to accompany him the next morning, quite settled what, for at all events the present, was to be their position in connection with the force.
“You are to be surgeon in chief to the tribe, Robert,” said the professor merrily, “so you had better make the best of it.”
The doctor did not pause to reply, but gravely prepared to receive the fresh patient, shaking his head solemnly at Frank the while.
“It looks bad,” he said. “The poor fellow seems to be beyond help.”
The Baggara appeared to be a finely built, manly young fellow as he was allowed to subside into his followers’ arms, and then borne to where the Hakim waited. There they laid him upon a rug which Frank dragged ready for his reception, to leave their burden lying flat upon his back, while the bearers drew back, but the horse advanced, to lower its soft muzzle and sniff at its rider’s face, before raising its head and uttering a shrill neigh.
The four men stood looking at the Hakim, as much as to say, “He is dead, but you must bring him to life.”
The doctor’s broad white brow was as a rule wonderfully free from lines, but as Frank glanced at him it was to see them gather now as straight and regular almost as if they had been ruled, from his eyebrows high up to where the hair had been shorn away.
But no time was wasted, and no search was needed. The young chief—for such he seemed to be—had received a terrible thrust from a spear just below the collar-bone, and to all appearance he had bled to death.
But as the doctor busily did what was necessary to the frightful wound, a slight quivering about the eyelids announced that life still lingered, and as the busy hands checked all further effusion and administered a restorative, the failing spirit’s flight was for the time being stayed, though whether this would be permanent was more than the Hakim dared to say.
“He must have been bleeding all the night,” the doctor said, “and jolting about on a horse. The man’s constitution is wonderful, or he would have died long before now.”
“Can you save him?” asked the professor.
“I fear not, but I’ll do all I can. Ask the men how this happened, Ibrahim.”
The information was soon obtained.
“It was in a skirmish, Hakim, a day’s journey from here. The men who joined us last night came in contact with a body of mounted men armed with spears, and from their description they seem to have been English troops. Many of the Baggara were killed, others wounded, and this man, their leader, was as you see. He will die, Excellency, will he not?”
“It all depends on the way in which he is treated,” replied the doctor. “He is in a dying state, but no dangerous part is touched. I may save his life.”
“It would be a miracle, Excellency,” said the Sheikh slowly. “Look: there is a dark cloud coming over his face.”
“No,” said the doctor gravely; “that is because the spirit in him is so low. He is falling into a sleep that is almost death, but he still lives. Tell these men that he is not to be moved, and that their chief must send a tent here to place over him. Let two of your men come now to spread a cloth above him to keep off the sun until the tent is set up.”
The message was given, and the men hurried away to rejoin their people, while in a very few minutes the Baggara chief and his companion appeared, walking hurriedly, and made their way to the side of the wounded man, to look at him anxiously and as if his condition was a great trouble to them, the elder going down on one knee to lay a hand upon the sufferer’s brow.
The next minute he was up again, and the two chiefs were chatting hurriedly together, before the elder turned to Ibrahim and spoke earnestly, his voice sounding hoarse and changed.
“O Hakim,” said the Sheikh, “he says that this is his son, whom he loves, and it will be like robbing him of his own life if the boy dies. He says that you must not let him sink. Sooner let all the wounded men who are coming to you die than this one. You must make him live, and all that the chief has is thine.”
“How can I make the man live?” said the Hakim sternly, and frowning at the chief as he spoke to the interpreter. “Has not all his life-blood been spilled upon the sand as they brought him here? Tell him at once that I am not a prophet, only a simple surgeon; that I have done all that is possible, and that the rest is with God.”
The Sheikh reverently translated the Hakim’s words to the Baggara chief, and those who heard him fully expected to hear some angry outburst; but the chief bent humbly before the Hakim and touched his hand.
In a short time, under the Baggara chief’s supervision, a tent was set up over the wounded man, and by then two large groups of patients were waiting patiently for the Hakim’s ministrations—those whom he had tended on the previous day, and about a dozen wounded men who had come in during the night.
It was a new class of practice for the London practitioner, however familiar it might have been to the surgeon of a regiment on active service; but wounds are wounds, whether received in the everyday life of a mechanic who has injured himself with his tools or been crushed by machinery, or caused by shot, sword, and spear. So the Hakim toiled away hour after hour till his last patient had left the space in front of his tent and he had leisure to re-examine the chief’s son, the father looking anxiously on in spite of an assumed sternness, and waiting till the keen-eyed surgeon rose from one knee.
“Tell him,” said the Hakim gravely, “that it will be days before the young chief can be moved.”
The words were interpreted, and the chief seemed to forget his own injury as he said in an angry tone that the little force must start at daybreak the next morning.
“Then the young man will die,” said the Hakim coldly.
Ibrahim again interpreted, and the chief suggested that a camel litter should be prepared.
But the Hakim shook his head.
“Can’t you give way?” said the professor softly. “A fairly easy couch could be made.”
“The man will certainly die if he is moved to-morrow,” replied Morris sternly, “and if I lose a patient now a great deal of my prestige goes with him.”
“Yes, I know,” said the professor; “but we are making an enemy instead of a friend; this man is not in the habit of having his will crossed.”
“We shall lose his friendship all the same,” said the doctor, “if his son dies in my hands. I can save his life if he is left to me.”
“Dare you say that for certain?”
The doctor was silent for a few minutes, during which he bent over his patient again, took his temperature, and examined the pupils of his eyes, and at last rose up and stepped from beneath the shade of the rough little tent.
“Yes,” he said; “I can say, I think for certain, that I will save his life if he is left to me.”
“What does the wise Hakim say?” asked the Baggara of Ibrahim; and the question was interpreted to the doctor.
“Tell him, No! That his son must not stir if he is to live. If he is left for say a week all may be well.”
There was no outburst of anger upon the interpretation of these words, the Baggara hearing them to the end and then walking away, frowning and stern, without once looking back.
About an hour later some half-dozen men came up leading a couple of camels laden with a larger tent and other gear. This was set up a short distance from the small one in which the young chief lay, and soon after it was done the chief rode up once more to see his son, looking anxious and careworn upon seeing the young man lying apparently unchanged.
The Baggara went away without a word to the Hakim, but signed to the Sheikh to follow him.
Meanwhile the rest of the sufferers came or were carried to take their turn before their surgeon, who was busy with his two aides, easing bandages, and where necessary redressing the wounds; while to the professor’s surprise two of them, instead of being carried or supported away by their comrades were helped into the large tent.
In all seven were placed there, and just as the long line of sufferers had been gone through, the Sheikh returned and said that the chief’s orders were that the worst sufferers were to stay at the tent so as to be under the Hakim’s eye.
The doctor’s was evidently to be no sinecure appointment, but he took it quite complacently, giving a few orders for the comfort of his staying patients, and without further incident the night fell, when a small hand-lamp was placed in the little tent, and the doctor announced that he was going to watch beside the young chief for the night.
Accordingly a rug was placed for him, as well as such requisites as might be needed for his patient, and saying good-night, and refusing all offers to share his vigil, the doctor glanced inside the larger tent to see that all was going on right there, and then stood in the open for a few minutes to breathe the cool night air and listen to the low murmur going on in the camp, before entering the smaller tent and starting slightly.
“You here, Frank?” he said quickly.
“Yes, I am going to share your watch.”
“There is no need, my dear boy,” said the doctor warmly. “Go and get a good night’s rest. You must be tired.”
“I have not done half the work you have,” was the reply, and after a little further argument the doctor gave way, and the watch was commenced, first one and then the other taking the lamp to bend over the insensible man, and make sure that he was breathing still.
It was about an hour after midnight that Frank’s turn had come, and as he had done some three times before, he took the lamp from where it stood, shaded from the sufferer’s eyes, and went behind him, to kneel down and watch for the feeble pulsation, breathing deeply himself with satisfaction as he found that the respiration still went on, when as he rose, lamp in hand he nearly let it fall on finding himself face to face with a tall figure in white robes, who looked at him sternly, took the lamp from his hand, and bent over in turn.
Frank neither spoke nor moved, but drew back a little, watching the face of the Baggara chief as the light struck full upon the swarthy, aquiline features for a few minutes, before the visitor rose and handed back the lamp, gazing full in the young man’s eyes. Then, thrusting his hand into his waist scarf, he freed the sheath of a handsome dagger from the folds, and without a word handed it to Frank, motioning him to place it in his own belt, after which he went silently out of the tent, vanishing like a shadow.
Frank stood motionless for a few minutes before setting down the lamp, and he was about to return to his place when the doctor’s voice said softly—
“Well, Frank, how is he?”
“Just the same,” replied Frank. “You heard the chief come in, of course?”
“The Baggara? No; surely he has not been again?”
“Yes; looked at his son, and went away a few minutes ago. Were you asleep?”
“No, I think not—I am sure not,” said the doctor. “I turned my face away from the light when I lay down; but I heard you rise, and saw the movement of the lamp over the tent side when you took it up, and again when you set it down. Well, I am not sorry that he has been. It shows that even such a savage chief as this—one who lives by rapine and violence—has his natural feelings hidden somewhere in his heart.”
The pair were silent for some little time, and then the doctor rose to look at his patient in turn.
“These are the anxious hours, Frank,” he said, “before daylight comes. Much depends on our getting well through the next two. If the poor fellow is alive at sunrise I shall feel quite satisfied that he will recover; but if he does it will be by a very narrow way.”
The pair sat then and listened and watched, with the patient still breathing slowly and softly, seeming very calm at last when the first faint dawn appeared; and soon after the doorway was shaded by the Sheikh.
“How is he, Excellencies?” he said in a whisper.
“He will live, Ibrahim,” replied the doctor. “Come and watch now while we go to my tent and snatch a few hours’ rest.”
“I have some coffee ready for you, Excellency,” whispered the old man. “You will take that first?”
“Yes, it will be very welcome,” said the doctor.
“I suppose you heard them go?” said the Sheikh, as they stepped out into the soft grey light. “Go? Heard whom go?” said Frank quickly.
“The Baggara,” replied the Sheikh. “About two hours ago.”
“No!” said the doctor. “Not a sound.”
“They have all gone, Excellency, excepting the wounded in the next tent and twelve mounted men who are stationed round to act, I suppose, as a guard.”
“But they will come back?”
“I cannot say, Excellency,” replied the old man; “I only know that they have gone.”
“‘And fold their tents like the Arabs,’” said Frank softly to himself, “‘and as silently steal away.’”
Chapter Twenty.
Prisoners Indeed.
Before the sun rose Frank’s rescue party fully realised their position—that they were prisoners, guarded by about twenty of the Baggara chief’s followers, and in charge of a temporary hospital, with the leader’s son as the principal patient.
“We must look our trouble, if trouble it is, straight in the face, Frank, my lad,” said the professor, “and hope all will turn out for the best.”
“Yes,” replied Frank, with a sigh; “but of course we cannot stir from here, and the time is going so fast.”
“But we reckoned upon meeting with obstacles, and this one may prove to be a help in the end.”
“I hope so,” said the young man despondently, his manner seeming to belie his words. “But what about the future—I mean when these men need no more attention?”
“My idea of the future is that the chief has gone with his men upon some raid already arranged, and that we shall have them back before long.”
“Yes,” said Frank, “he is sure to return on account of his son. Then we must wait.”
“Yes, and as patiently as we can, my lad.”
“And have as good an account to give the father as we can on his return,” said the doctor, who had been listening in silence. “It is very trying, Frank, to be checked like this, and so soon; but one thing is certain, the Baggara chief means to keep us to attend to his wounded, and this being a warlike excursion it will sooner or later come to an end, and we shall be taken pretty swiftly in the direction we want to go.”
“I’ll try to think as you do,” said Frank sadly, “and murmur as little as I can.”
“Fortunately we shall have very little time for brooding over our troubles,” said the doctor, “for I can see nothing but hard work for days to come.”
“Yes,” said the professor grimly; “you are getting far more professional duty, though, than we bargained for.”
As the day wore on there was little change visible in the young chief, who seemed to be alive, and that was all; but the Hakim was satisfied, and the other patients had certainly improved.
The Sheikh reported having talked to the head of their guard, but he was far from communicative. He would not say anything about his chief’s proceedings, nor even allow that he would return, but told the Arab sternly that no one must stir from the little camp; at the same time, though, he showed Ibrahim that he was left with a supply of provisions for many days to come, and that he was ready to furnish the Hakim’s party with meat and corn.
“Then we must wait, Ibrahim,” said Frank wearily.
“Yes, Excellency,” replied the old man, “and have patience. These people have it in their power to turn us back, or make slaves and prisoners of us; while if we resist—well, Excellency, I need not tell you what would come. They are masters, and if a servant does not do their bidding, the sand drinks up his blood, and he is no more. They look upon us now, though, as their friends, and sooner or later the Baggara chief will return, if he does not encounter some of the English troops and have his people scattered.”
“Which is hardly likely yet,” said the professor decisively.
“No, Excellency, not yet; and I feel sure that after he has swept the country round of everything worth taking he will retreat south.”
“Where?” said Frank quickly.
“There are but two places at all likely, Excellency,” replied the old man; “Omdurman and Khartoum, one of which will be the headquarters of the new Mahdi’s force, and that is where you wish to be.”
As had been said, there was too much to do for the English party to have much time for brooding. The Hakim was deeply interested in his patients, forgetting everything in the brave fight he made to save every life; and Frank strove manfully to hide the heart-sickness and despair which attacked him as he worked away over what soon settled down into field hospital work, being conscious all the while that he and his friends were carefully watched, but not in a troublesome way, for the Baggara guard had formed a little camp of their own and kept rigorously to themselves, their duty being to mount guard night and day and see that the prisoners and patients were supplied with all that was needed.
And so the time glided by, with Frank daily growing more careworn and silent. He did not even revert to the object of their journey unless it was mentioned by his companions, but worked away, helping the doctor, and having the satisfaction of seeing first one poor helpless wreck become convalescent and then another. For there was no shirking or making the worst of wounds or sickness, the men being only too ready to leave the hospital tent with its occupants, so as to join the guard in their little camp.
Consequently as the days sped quickly by the number of patients rapidly decreased, while the principal sufferer, after lying as if between life and death for a week, began to mend, his terrible wound healing rapidly, and signs of returning strength gradually appearing.
At first he lay quiet and sullen, submitting to all that was done for him, watching the Hakim with what appeared to be a suspicious dread, for his mind did not seem to grasp the possibility of this Frankish physician wishing to save his life. He scowled, too, at the professor, and at first gave the dumb, black slave Frank fierce looks whenever in his ministrations he approached and touched him. But during the course of the second week, as his strength began to return, he appeared more grateful, and once or twice smiled and nodded after being lifted or fed, or having his position changed.
One day when the Sheikh came to the tent the patient began to speak, and asked him questions about the Hakim—why he was there, and what payment he would require for all he had done; and looked surprised when told that the learned Frankish physician did everything for the sake of doing good.
It was a problem that lasted him till the next day, when he signed for something, and the professor found that they could make one another comprehend after a fashion, enough for the Englishman to grasp that the wounded man wanted Ibrahim, who was summoned.
It was for a mere trifle. He wanted to question him about Frank—how he came to be the Hakim’s slave, and why he could not speak, the old Arab making up the best explanation he could over the first, and referring to the professor for an explanation as to the latter, the young chief being evidently under the impression, and bluntly expressing the belief, that the Hakim had cut out the young slave’s tongue so that he should not reveal any of the secrets of the magic by whose means he performed his cures.
There being visible proof afforded, to Frank’s disgust, that the Hakim had not treated his slave in this barbarous way, the young chief felt certain that the silence was the result of some magic spell, and he began to display a certain amount of pity for the young man, and lay and watched him curiously.
From that day Frank found that he was an object of interest to the young chief, who noted every movement with a sort of pitying contempt, while at the same time, in spite of the result of the Hakim’s ministrations, he displayed an unconcealed dislike for him that was manifested in morose looks and more than one angry scowl.
This was talked over when the friends were alone, and the doctor smiled.
“It does not matter,” he said. “I shall not be jealous, Frank. It is all plain enough to read. The poor fellow is weak as a child mentally as well as bodily, and I expect that as soon as he gets better he will be offering you your freedom from the cruel slavery to which you have been reduced.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said the professor, laughing; “but don’t you listen to the voice of the charmer, my boy. There is an old proverb about jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire.”
“It may all work for good,” said the doctor, “and there is no harm in making a friend; but it is of no use to try and foresee what will happen. A sick man’s fancies are very evanescent. Go on as you have done all through. One thing is very evident: he is mending fast, and can be moved when his father returns.”
“If he ever does,” said the professor drily. “The lives of these fighting men are rather precarious, and if we never see him again I shall not be surprised.”
Another week glided by, and the large tent was taken down by the Baggara guard and set up again in their own camp, for the last of the Hakim’s patients had expressed a wish to join his fellows, though far from being in a condition to leave, so that the young chief was the only sufferer left, while he was now sufficiently recovered to watch what went on around. But for the most part his eyes were fixed upon the desert, his gaze bespeaking the expectation of his father’s return, though he never suggested it in his brief conversations with the Sheikh—brief from their difficulty, the old Arab confessing his inability to understand much that was said.
But if the young chief was watching in that expectation he fixed his eyes upon the distant horizon in vain. The clouds appeared every morning, to hang for hours in the east along the course of the far-off river, and then die away in the glowing sunshine, while to north and south and west there was the shimmering haze of heat playing above the sand, till Frank began to be in despair.
Chapter Twenty One.
For a Fresh Start.
One evening after the young chief had lain watching the desert in vain he signed for the Sheikh to come to him, and in a stronger voice bade him fetch the leader of the men left on guard.
The man came, and a conversation ensued, the result of which was that the Baggara went away to join his companions, with whom a long consultation was held, followed by certain unmistakable movements which brought the Sheikh to his friends.
“They are going to march,” he said. “Their tents are being struck, and everyone is preparing. I saw four men seeing to the water-skins; others are packing, and soon after midnight they will leave.”
“And what about the young chief? He is not fit to go, eh, doctor?”
“Unless he is carried,” was the reply.
The Sheikh smiled.
“They are preparing a camel for him so that he can share it with one of the wounded men—a litter such as they use for the women. They can almost lie, one on either side, Excellencies. I expect that they will say nothing, but that we shall wake in the morning and find that we are alone.”
The Sheikh had hardly spoken when the party saw the head of the Baggara guard approaching.
As the man came within reach he signed to the Sheikh to join him, and his words were very few before he turned upon his heel and strode away.
“What does this mean, Ibrahim?” said Frank. “Did he tell you that they are going?”
“Our tents are to be struck, Excellency, and everything loaded upon our camels before daylight.”
“Ah!” said Frank eagerly; “to march to the south?”
“Yes, Excellency. His orders from the chief were that if he did not return in the number of days now passed we were to be taken south.”
“Whereto?”
“Omdurman, Excellency. He has been waiting for the young chiefs speaking to say that he was strong enough to go. The time was past the day before yesterday. The young man told him an hour ago that he could bear it now.”
“Then the suspense is over!” cried Frank eagerly.
“Mind, Excellency!” said the Sheikh, laying his hand upon the young man’s arm; “the young man is trying to look round this way. He must not see your lips moving, nor hear you speak.”
It was a slip on Frank’s part, but the young chief did not seem to have noticed anything, and mentally resolving to be more careful the speaker drew back a little as if waiting for orders.
“Yes,” said the professor; “the suspense is over, and we are once more about to start. This time it will be direct to our goal.”
“But how is it the Baggara chief has not returned, Ibrahim?” said the doctor gravely.
“Who can say, Excellency?” replied the old Sheikh, with a shrug of the shoulders. “He took his young men on what you English people call a raid—to kill and plunder, and perhaps, as his son did, he has met with a stronger force. Instead of sweeping away he has perhaps been with his people swept from the face of the earth. He may have been only driven aside from his path, but there must have been some serious encounter, or he would have returned, for he showed us that he loved his son.”
“Going?” said the professor, for the Sheikh drew back.
“Yes, Excellency; I must see that our preparations are made. My young men must be ready. You will give orders for your baggage to be packed, and before the time for starting my people shall bring up the camels and load them. The tent can stand till an hour before the time, and you will all doubtless lie down and rest.”
“No,” said the professor; “it would be driving things too close. Send your young men to strike the tent, and we will have everything ready for the camels. We should none of us sleep, and if we have any time to spare it will be pleasant enough to lie down on the sand. One minute: have you any idea which way we shall go?”
“I do not quite know,” said the old Arab. “I asked the men, but they shook their heads. It will not be by the regular caravan track.”
“How do you know that?” asked the doctor.
“Because, Excellency, there is water nearly as good as this at the end of the day’s journey.”
“Well? What of that?”
“These men must know the tracks as well as I do, Excellencies—perhaps better. If they were going by the regular road they would know that we should reach the wells.”
“I see,” said the professor, nodding his head; “and they are filling water-skins?”
“Yes, Excellency, and I am told to do the same.”
“Then we are going to strike right out into the desert, of course.”
“Yes, Excellency, to take the shortest ways; and it looks like flight.”
That evening the Hakim visited his one patient, and found him making excellent progress; but the young chief made no attempt to communicate the change that was to take place, contenting himself with bowing his head slowly by way of thanks, and then closing his eyes and turning away his head. He made signs to Frank, though, soon after, to bring him water, and the latter noted at once that the young man’s eyes looked pained and anxious, and that his brow was a good deal lined. And it was plain enough to read the meaning of the anxious glances northward which he kept on giving, as if hoping against hope that the delay was not serious.
But there was not a sign upon the distant horizon, though the air was cool and clear, so that the sky-line where the sandy sea joined the air was perfectly distinct, till night closed in over a busy scene, for the men of both parties were working hard packing and preparing. The two rows of camels crouched munching away contentedly after being watered, and as their loads were finished each was placed near the camel which was to be its bearer, and glanced at by the animals as if they quite understood.
This took the attention of Sam, who seized the instant when he was making the final arrangement with Frank over the Hakim’s leather cases, once more carefully packed, to whisper a few remarks.
“They seem rum things, don’t they, sir? Just look at that one how he keeps turning and rolling his eyes at these two long portmanteaus! Don’t you tell me that they don’t understand, because I feel sure that they do. That big, strong fellow’s saying as plainly as he can, ‘For two pins I’d bolt off into the desert and strike against that load, only it would be no good; they’d fetch me back; and I don’t like leaving my mates.’”
“Well, there is a peculiarly intelligent look about the beast certainly, Sam,” said Frank, smiling.
“’Telligent, sir? I should think there is! Look how he keeps on licking his lips and leering at us now and then. Beautiful and patient, too. Why, he’s quite smiling at us, and as soon as they begin to hang his load upon his beautiful humpy back he’ll begin moaning and groaning and sighing as if there never was such an ill-used animal before. Oh, they’re queer beasts, and no mistake. I’d like to drive that fellow; that’s what I should like to do. He’d taste the whip more than once.”
“Why?” asked Frank, for Sam stopped short and looked at him as much as to say, “Ask me.”
“Because, as the people say, I’ve got my knife into him, and I want to pay him.”
“Well, go on,” said Frank. “I am waiting to hear your reasons.”
“Because he’s an ugly, supercilious, contemptuous, sneering, ill-behaved brute, sir. Last time I went near him he called me names—a dog of a white nigger, or something of that kind. I can’t say exactly what.”
“Absurd!”
“Oh, but he did, sir, in his language, which of course I could not understand; but he did something insulting which I could. For there was no doubt about that—he spat at me, sir—regularly spat at me, and then snarled as much as to say, ‘Take that! You come within reach, and I’ll bite you!’”
“They’re not pleasant creatures,” said Frank quietly, glancing round.
“No, sir, they’re not, indeed; and that isn’t the worst of it.”
“Then what is?”
“Why, this, sir: instead of going comfortably to one’s night’s rest, I’ve got to mount one of the ugly, sneering brutes, and he’ll play at see-saw with me and make me as miserable as he can, turning my poor back into a sort of hinge. Ugh! I haven’t forgotten my last dose.”
“Don’t talk to me any more,” said Frank, in a low tone of voice; “here are some of the other men coming.”
“To take down the patients’ tent, I suppose, sir.”
Frank made no reply, but Sam was right, for they quickly and quietly lowered and folded the young chiefs tent, leaving him only a rug to lie upon, after placing the tent ready to be fetched by one of their camels.
Seeing this, Frank went to where the weak, helpless man lay exposed to the cool night air and turned one side of the rich rug gently over him, receiving for thanks a gentle tap or two upon the arm.
“I was going across to do that, Frank,” said the doctor, as the young man returned to his own party. “It is not good for him to be exposed like this, but these people are so accustomed to the desert life that they bear with impunity what would kill an ordinary Englishman.”
“How much longer have we to wait, Ibrahim?” asked the professor.
“We shall begin loading in less than an hour, Excellency,” replied the Sheikh, “so as to have plenty of time.”
“Is everything packed?”
“Yes, Excellency.”
“Nothing forgotten?”
“I have been over the baggage twice, Excellency, and nothing has been left; the camels are all in beautiful condition, and there is an ample supply of water, for I have had four extra skins filled. We may want it, for the journey to-morrow will be over the hot, fine sand. I daresay, though, we shall halt for a few hours in the middle of the day.”
Soon after there was the busy sound of loading going on, the soft silence of the night being broken by the querulous moaning and complaining of the camels as burden after burden was balanced across their backs, the uncanny noise sounding weird and strange, the weirdness applying, too, to the dimly seen, long-necked creatures, which rapidly grew into shapeless monsters writhing their long necks and snaky heads as seen in the darkness, till they looked like nothing so much as the strange fancies indistinctly seen in some feverish dream.
So well had the preparations been made that an hour amply sufficed for the loading up, and at the end of that time the two troops of camels were standing, each with its own drivers, a short distance apart, and nothing remained but for those who rode to mount and the order to be given for the start.
It was just then that a tall, dark object, the one for which the doctor had been anxiously looking, loomed up from the Baggara camp and stalked silently up to where the Baggara chiefs son lay waiting upon his rug.
As it reached his side, attended by two men, the great camel was stopped, and its load was more plainly to be seen, shaping itself into a couple of rudely made, elongated panniers, out of one of which, while it was held, a man leapt lightly out, the other being occupied by one of the weakest of the wounded.
The doctor and Frank then superintended the lifting in of the chiefs son, who bore the movement without a sigh, and the great camel, after the rug had been laid across like a form of housing, was led back to its fellows, some twenty yards away.
Then from out of the darkness an order rang out, and the waiting camels were mounted, after which there was the snorting of horses, and half a dozen graceful creatures trotted by to take the lead as advance guard, the troop waiting till they were a little distance ahead. At last the shadowy looking line of camels, horses, and men were awaiting the order to start, for some reason unaccountably delayed, when suddenly the Sheikh laid his hand upon Frank’s arm.
“Hark!” he whispered excitedly. “Listen! Do you not hear?”
Frank shook his head.
“It is quite plain,” continued the Sheikh. “Horses—the trampling of many men. Keep close together, Excellencies, while I warn my people.”
“Warn them of what?” said the doctor calmly.
“Danger, Excellency. These may be friends coming, but it may mean an attack or the coming of strangers. If it is either of the latter I shall try to lead you all into safety. So at a word follow me at once straight away into the desert. We may be able to escape.”
The Sheikh’s camel glided silently away into the darkness, and the party sat straining their sense of hearing to the utmost, making out plainly enough now the dull sound of trampling hoofs, the jingling of trappings, and every now and then an angry snort or squeal as some ill-tempered beast resented the too near approach of one of its own kind.
Then all at once, as the sounds came nearer, there was heard plainly enough the muttering, whining cry of a camel, followed by more and more proofs then that the coming party was one of greater strength than it had seemed to be at first.
Just then the Sheikh came back out of the darkness, to halt his camel close up by the professor’s.
“It is not English cavalry, Excellencies,” he said, “but a native force. I think it must be the Baggara chief and his men returned.”
At that moment a peculiar cry rang out from a couple of hundred yards or so away—a weird, strange whoop that might have come from some night bird sweeping through the darkness overhead.
But it was human, and answered directly by the Baggara train close at hand, and directly after there was a loud shout, and a crowd of horsemen galloped up out of the mysterious-looking gloom, to mingle with the party about to start on their desert ride.
Chapter Twenty Two.
Nearing the Goal.
It was more from hearing than seeing that Frank Frere gathered the fact that the Baggara chief had returned, for after a short pause the camel train was once more in motion, and they were ordered to keep steadily in line in the advance to the desert in the opposite direction to that by which the newcomers had arrived.
At first the two parties formed the train alone, for the fresh arrivals had halted to water their horses and camels, quite an hour passing before the sound of approaching horsemen announced that the whole force was in motion, overtaking them at a sharp canter, but only to subside directly into the regular, slow camel pace, which was kept on hour after hour till the dawn, when, looking back, Frank made out that the train extended for nearly half a mile to the rear, being made up of a long line of camels, followed by a troop of many horsemen.
It was nearly all surmise, but judging from the number of camels, which were certainly double those that the Baggara had before during their stay by the fountains, they had been engaged in some successful foray, for as the light grew stronger the baggage animals seemed to be very heavily laden.
This idea naturally suggested that the wild horsemen had been engaged in some desperate encounter, and half laughingly the professor bantered his friends about their prospects.
“It means a revival of professional practice for you,” he said, “and that looks prosperous. You only lost your last patient a few hours ago—that is, if you have lost him—and now a score or two will come tumbling in.”
“Very well,” said the doctor coolly; “it shows that they approve of my treatment. I suppose we shall know at the first halt.”
This was many hours in coming, for a long, monotonous march was made right away to the south-west, with the pile of rocks they had left gradually sinking till quite out of sight, and then, with the sun growing hotter and hotter, there was nothing visible on any side but the long, level stretch of sand.
The halt was not made till near midday, when the heat had become unbearable, and horses and camels were growing sluggish, and showed plenty of indications of the need of whip and spur.
Then, apparently without orders, the little knot of horsemen, led by the Baggara who had had charge of the prisoners, drew up short and faced round, when taking them as the extreme limit the rest of the train formed themselves up into a well ordered group as they came on, till, with the Sheikh’s party and their guards as a kind of centre, and the camels with their loads behind, the horsemen closed them in as if for strategic reasons, and for the next half hour there was a busy scene, the camels being relieved of their loads as if the stay were to be of some hours’ length.
This was evidently intended, for fires were lit and food was prepared, many of the horsemen after picketing their horses settling down at once to coffee and pipes.
It was while Frank and his friends were partaking of an al fresco lunch, hastily prepared by Sam, that they had their first intimation of the Baggara chief being with the horsemen, for he cantered up to their temporary camp in company with his fierce-looking companion, leaped from his horse, and walked up to the Hakim at once, to give him a smile of recognition and hold out his left arm, which he tapped vigorously as if saying: “Look! Quite well again.” Then turning round to the Sheikh he signed to him to approach, and said a few words hastily, before nodding to the Hakim again, returning to his horse, mounting, and cantering away.
“Well, Ibrahim,” said the professor; “what does it mean?”
“That the chief’s arm will soon be well; that the young chief his son will soon be well; and that the great Hakim and his slaves are to have no fear, for the Baggara are their friends.”
“Yes, and mean to keep the Hakim and his slaves as prisoners as long as there are any cripples to cure,” said the professor merrily.
“I suppose that is what it means,” said the doctor quietly.
“That’s it, sure enough,” said the professor; “and we shall reach Khartoum, Frank, in half the time we should have managed it in if we had been left to ourselves.”
Frank shook his head sadly.
“What! you doubt?” cried the professor. “Here, Ibrahim, what do you say to that?”
“His Excellency is quite right,” replied the Sheikh. “We should have had to wander here and there, and have met with many hindrances by having to stay to perform cures of the sick people. Yes, it would have been a journey of many weary months.”
“It will take much time now,” said the professor, “but it looks as if we were really bound due south.”
“I suppose there is a party of wounded men on the way?” said the doctor.
“Yes, they follow the chief’s visits,” said the professor. “My word! learned one, your post is going to be no sinecure. Hah! here comes the first instalment.”
For a roughly contrived litter was seen approaching, and directly after the chief’s son was borne up to them by four of his followers and set down in front of the doctor, who attended to his patient, finding him no worse for his journey.
He was carried away again as soon as the Hakim had seen that his wound was healing well, and the arrival of the newly injured was expected; but none appeared, for the simple reason that the fresh tale of wounded was only imaginary, the Baggara chief, as was afterwards learned, having been successful in obtaining a large amount of plunder and many camels in his first raid after leaving the prisoners at the wells. These he had despatched under a small escort while he made for another village which had been marked down. Here, however, he met with a severe reverse, his men having to gallop for their lives, leaving their dead and wounded behind.
Hence it was, then, that the Hakim’s burden became light for the rest of the march, which was continued day after day, week after week, till so slow was the progress that months had passed and the despair in Frank’s soul grew deeper.
The party were well treated, and won the respect of the whole force from the many kindly acts they were able to perform. For sickness was more than once a deadly foe which had to be fought, while help was often required after occasional raids made during the journey, in which the desperate dwellers in village or camp fought hard and mostly in vain for their lives and property, as well as to save those whom they held dear from being carried off as slaves.
“It is horrible!” Frank used to say. “These tribes are like a pestilence passing through the land. The atrocities of which they are guilty are a hundred times worse than I could have believed. There can never be rest for the unfortunate inhabitants till they are swept away.”
“Never,” said the professor gravely. “The land will soon be one wide desolation, for the smiling oases where irrigation could do its part will soon be gone back to a waste of sand.”
“And by the irony of fate,” continued Frank bitterly, “here are we—so many English people, whose hearts bleed for the horrors we are forced to see—doing our best afterwards to restore to health and strength the wretches who have robbed and murdered in every peaceful village they have passed.”
He looked, and spoke, at the Hakim, as these utterances passed his lips, and his brother’s old school-fellow shook his head at him reproachfully.
“Don’t blame me, Frank, my lad,” he said. “I often think as you do, and it is only by looking upon the wounded men brought in as patients that I can get on with my task. Then the interest in my profession helps me, and I forget all about what they may have done. But I get very weary of it all sometimes.”
“Weary, yes!” cried Frank; “but you must forgive me. It was all my doing, and I must be half mad to speak to you as I did.”
“You are both forgetting why we came,” said the professor quietly; “and between ourselves, you two, isn’t it rather childish to talk as you do?”
“I don’t know,” said Frank impatiently; “all I can feel is that we seem as far from helping poor Hal as ever.”
“Oh, no, we are not,” said the professor. “We must be getting very near to the Khalifa’s strongholds now, and we are going to enter with pass-keys, my lad. Once there, it will be hard if we don’t find poor old Hal.”
“Hard indeed,” said the doctor, with energy; “but we must and will.”
“Well said!” continued the professor. “I think we have done wonders. Such good fortune can never have fallen to anyone before.”
“Good fortune!” said Frank bitterly.
“Ah, you want your pulse felt, young fellow. You’ve got a sour instead of a thankful fit upon you. Give him something to-night, doctor.”
Morris bowed his head solemnly, as if he were playing Hakim still to his friends, and Frank made an angry gesture.
“Look here,” continued the professor; “you can ask old Ibrahim again if you are in doubt. He’ll tell you that it would have been impossible to have got on at such a rate as we have come, and that the difficulties over supplies would have been insurmountable at times. While here, though we have often been scarce of water, we have never wanted once for food.”
“And how has it been obtained?” said Frank bitterly.
“I don’t know—I don’t want to know.”
“You do know!” cried Frank angrily.
“I tell you I won’t know!” said the professor, almost as shortly. “I know that we have done nothing but good all the way—that we could not have done it without food—and that it was given to us in payment for what we have done. Be sensible, my lad. We did not let loose these murderous human beasts who have made us prisoners, and whether we eat or starve ourselves it will make no difference to their actions. Go on eating, then? Why, of course we do. You talk as if it were our mission as Christians when we came upon a wounded man to put him out of his misery.”
“No, no!” cried Frank.
“But you and Bob Morris seem to think so. You can’t take one of his bottles of hydrocyanic acid and pour it into one of the desert wells, and then call the whole band up to drink, can you?”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Landon!” said Frank angrily.
“Then don’t you, my dear boy. Can’t you see that this is all outside of our plans?”
“Yes, of course,” said the doctor.
“We never meant to be taken prisoners and to be forced to be chief surgeon-physician to a band of murderous cut-throats.”
“No,” said Frank, “but we are.”
“Granted; but is it our fault?”
“No,” said the doctor firmly.
“Can we escape from them, Frank?”
There was no reply, and the professor repeated his question.
“I do not see how.”
“Neither do I, and if I did I wouldn’t try it now that we are so near the brave old lad we came to save.—Oh, here’s Ibrahim.”
“Your Excellency wanted me?” said the Sheikh.
“Yes. How far do you think we are now from Omdurman?”
“As far as I can make out, Excellency, by asking some of the camel-drivers, about four days’ journey.”
“Hah! That is getting near. But have you found out yet whether we are really going there or farther on to Khartoum?”
“No, Excellency, and I have tried hard. No one really does know except the chief. Some say we are going to Omdurman, while others say for certain that we shall make a sweep round into the desert and then aim for Khartoum. While others—”
“Opinions are various,” said the professor drily. “Tot homines—tot sententiae, which being interpreted, my dear Frank, you being a lad who always hated your Latin accidence, means, some think a tot of one thing is good; some think a tot of another is better. Well, Ibrahim, what does the other set think?”
“That the chief is going straight to Omdurman before passing on to Khartoum to dispose of his plunder.”
“Then let’s hope the last are right, and then we shall have the chance of searching two places. There, cheer up, Frank, and try and think of nothing else but our own important mission.”
“Of course,” said the doctor. “We did not come for the purpose of punishing these predatory hordes.”
“No,” said Frank sadly; “I know. But have a little compassion upon me, and forgive my irritable ways. Look at me,” he said, holding out his blackened hands, and then pointing with them to his face. “Can’t you think how great an effort it is to keep up this miserable masquerade—what agony it is to go about feeling that at any moment I may forget myself when in the presence of our masters, and speak?”
“Yes, yes, I know, Frank, my dear boy,” replied the professor; “and whenever I think of it I begin to wonder. I used to be in a constant state of fidget. ‘He’ll let the cat out of the bag as sure as eggs are eggs,’ I used to say to myself; and then I lay awake at night and tried to think out the best way of helping you till the idea came, and it has acted beautifully.”
“What idea?” said the doctor sternly. “You never mentioned any idea to me.”
“Of course not; that would have spoiled the charm. Even Frank does not know.”
“Then it’s all nonsense,” said the doctor.
“Is it? Well, we’ll see. I did help you, didn’t I, Frank?”
“You have always helped me in every way you could, and been like an elder brother towards me, and I can never be sufficiently grateful.”
“Bother! Nonsense!” said the professor curtly. “But you mean to say I did not specially help you over the dummy business?”
“Well, I really cannot recollect any special way.”
“Ingrate! And you talk about being grateful.”
“Well, out with it, Fred,” said the doctor. “What was your plan?”
“One of my own invention,” said the professor, smiling proudly. “You, Frank, haven’t I always lain down beside you every night when all was still?”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“And didn’t I always say that I had come for a quiet chat?”
“To be sure,” said Frank.
“And did I ever have it?”
“Yes, we had one every night, carried on in a whisper.”
“False!” cried the professor.
“True!” said Frank.
“False!” cried the professor.
“No, true!” said Frank.
“I say false, sir, for from the time I lay down every night till you, being tired with your hard day’s work, dropped off to sleep, I never hardly said a word.”
“Well, now you mention it,” said Frank, “I don’t think you did, for I often used to think you had gone to sleep.”
“Yes, and you used to ask me if I had. But I never had, eh?”
“Never once,” said Frank quickly; “and I often used to feel ashamed of myself for being so drowsy and going off as I did.”
“But look here,” said the doctor, “what has this got to do with your patent plan for keeping Frank from betraying himself?”
“Everything,” said the professor triumphantly. “That was my patent plan. I said to myself that sooner or later Frank would be letting—”
“Yes, yes, of course, betraying himself,” said the doctor impatiently. “But the plan, man—the plan?”
“Well, that’s it, my dear Hakim,” cried the professor, “I said to myself, that poor fellow cannot exist without talking; the words will swell up in him like so much gas. He must have a safety valve. Well, I provided it. I lay down beside him every night and let him talk till he fell asleep.”
“I never thought it meant anything more than a friendly feeling,” said Frank wonderingly. “Well, perhaps there is something in what you say.”