Chapter Twenty Six.
A Fight among Friends.
As is generally the case when one’s heart feels most sick, a good rest brings light and hope back from behind the clouds, and Frank Frere awoke the next morning feeling ready for any amount more effort, as he carefully applied more of the water to his skin, after dissolving a few crystals, with the result that when the solution was dry he was ready to compare with the blackest slave in the city, while after breakfast he was in the best of spirits as he helped the Hakim over his patients—poor creatures half blind from the horrible ophthalmia produced by the desert dust and sand; wounded men, sufferers from the terrible fevers of the country; and as he saw them go away relieved a pleasant sensation of what French people call bien être stole over him.
Then the Emir’s son came in his litter and was attended to, the Hakim saying, when his task was done and Ibrahim had been summoned, that the patient need come no more, at which he frowned and looked displeased, and the next day he came again, contenting himself with seeing Frank only, and on leaving presenting him with a new white robe.
The following morning he was back again to see Frank, and when he left, the professor laughingly made the remark that the Emir’s son was evidently a young man of very low tastes, he being a prince among his people and taking to the society of a slave.
Another excursion was made through the city, with the guard following patiently, and evidently feeling something like contempt for these strange people who preferred wearying themselves in wandering through the filthy lanes of the city to sitting comfortably in the Emir’s grounds, smoking a long pipe in the shade of the trees. But they were silent and watchful all the same saving the travellers more than once from insult and attack.
Then days followed days with always the same result: weary hopelessness; and a long conversation ensued, the result of which was that as the number of important cases had diminished and the complaints of the poor patients were for the most part of a kind that their own Hakims could very well attend, a petition should be taken to the Emir, asking him to send the Hakim on to Khartoum with his people to do good there.
This was announced to Ibrahim, who shook his head.
“Why do you do that?” said Frank quickly.
“For reasons, Excellency. I have been much about the city lately.”
“I know,” said Frank, “and supposed that you were still searching now.”
“I was, Excellency.”
“So have we been, as you know, but without result. You have found out nothing?”
“Not yet, Excellency, but I am still hopeful.”
“We are still hopeful,” said Frank, “but we feel that it is time to journey on to Khartoum and search there. We can come back here if we fail.”
“But the Emir will not let you go, Excellency.”
“How do you know that?”
“I feel sure, Excellency, and then there is the young Emir; he spoke to me yesterday about having you in his household.”
“Having me?” said Frank, aghast.
“Yes, Excellency; he has taken a fancy to you. Did he not make you another present yesterday?”
“Yes,” said Frank; “a handsome sword and knife. Of course, I did not want them, but you know his disposition.”
“Yes,” said the professor; “he would have looked black as thunder and flown in a passion if you had refused them.”
“He did because I hesitated. But we must try if the Emir will consent.”
“We might propose going for a time,” said the doctor, “and promise to come back, as there is so little to do here for the people.”
The Sheikh shook his head.
“I daresay you are right, Ibrahim,” said Frank; “but we are doing no good at all here, and you must try.”
“I am your Excellencies’ servant,” said the old man quietly, “and I will do my best; but I would rather we stayed here for a while longer.”
“Hah!” exclaimed Frank excitedly; “then you have some clue!”
“No, no; not yet, Ben Eddin,” said the old man, who looked startled by the speaker’s manner; “but I have hopes. I have been trying so hard, making friends with several of the better people, and as your English Excellencies would say, feeling my way. When we find your Excellency’s brother it will be through my meeting some one who knows what slaves have been kept. But it is very hard. I dare not say much, for fear of making the people doubt that I am a friend.”
“Yes, that is true, Ibrahim,” said the doctor gravely; “and I like your caution. But make one appeal to the Emir to let us go to Khartoum for a few weeks. Ask him to send us with an escort—say with our present guard.”
The old Sheikh shook his head.
“The great Hakim does not understand,” he said. “The Khalifa has many followers, Emirs and chiefs of tribes who are banded with him to conquer and hold the Soudan. But they are all chiefs in their own right who have brought their followers, and the jealousy and hate among them is great. The Emir, our friend, is one of the greatest, but he has enemies here.”
“Ah, you know that?” said Frank eagerly.
“Yes, Excellency, chiefs who hate him, but his son more, for he is rude and scornful to them.”
“I can understand that,” said the professor. “Go on.”
“These other chiefs hate our Emir for his power and strength, and would be glad to drive him back into his own country, and he knows it. But at Khartoum I hear that he has greater enemies. The Khalifa and one of his generals both dislike him and fear that he is trying to become a greater ruler than they; and knowing this he would not send you with a part of his own guard, neither would the Khalifa let him do this; but I will see him to-morrow, Excellencies, and tell him your wishes. If he gives you his leave to go he will send messengers to the Khalifa, asking him to receive the great Hakim and send guards to fetch you. But I fear. He will think that you will never return. Shall I go to him now?”
“No,” said the doctor; “wait till the morning, and do your best, for I feel that we may do more good at Khartoum. We will return if we find no better fortune than here.”
“It is good, great Hakim,” said the old man; “thy servant is always ready to obey.”
That day passed quietly on, with the friends eagerly discussing their plans of action regarding the proposed change, Frank being the most hopeful and displaying intense eagerness.
“Ibrahim is a fatalist,” he said. “He has taken it into his head that we shall find Harry here, but I feel convinced now that he is a prisoner in Khartoum or the neighbourhood, and I do not think, after all we have done, that the Emir will refuse us.”
“I don’t know,” said the professor dubiously.
“Oh, don’t, don’t you take old Ibrahim’s views, Landon,” cried Frank. “I doubt whether there is so much jealousy amongst men who are bound together for one special object. There is a little, no doubt. Look here, let’s ask the Emir and his son—or his son alone—to take us there himself. They may be glad to go, as they seem so proud of Morris and all his cures. For my part, I think he will.”
“And I believe Ibrahim,” said the doctor gravely. “If it is as he thinks, our Emir would not trust himself in Khartoum without all his following, and—”
“What’s the matter?” cried the professor sharply, for just then their head guard rushed to the door, sword in hand, followed by three of his men armed with spears, while for the moment it struck Frank that the present he had received was about to prove useful, and he took a step towards his room where it was hanging in its sheath against the wall.
The officer said something excitedly as he waved his sword, and the man’s manner suggested that he had come with his followers to massacre the party.
But at that moment Ibrahim entered, looking wild and strange, and a few words passed between him and the guard, while from outside the walls there was shouting, the trampling of horses, and hurried rush of feet.
“For heaven’s sake speak, Ibrahim!” cried the professor in Arabic. “What does this man mean?”
“He has come to see that you are all safe, Excellency,” said the old man. “The Emir sends orders that you are to bar yourselves in the room farthest from the wall, for the palace is about to be attacked. You are not to venture outside in the garden, for fear the enemy may be within throwing distance with their spears.”
The Emir’s officer only stayed till he was satisfied that his prisoners fully understood the message, and then hurried out, followed by his men, for the noise and excitement outside were increasing fast. Trumpets were being blown, drums beaten, and there were all the sounds of a gathering force.
“What does all this mean?” asked the doctor.
“I hardly know, O Hakim,” replied the Sheikh, who was gradually recovering his breath, “It is some jealous quarrel between the Emirs, and they will mount and ride out to the nearest part of the desert to gallop wildly here and there, firing guns, throwing spears, and shouting defiance at one another, till their horses and camels are tired out. Then they will ride back, blowing trumpets and beating drums again, with each chief riding by his standard, looking proud, and behaving as if he had gained a great victory.”
“Then it will be a kind of sham fight?” said Frank.
“No, Ben Eddin; it will be quite real, but they will not do each other much mischief, because there is nothing to gain. There is no spoil, and besides, they are all bound to obey the new Mahdi, who has bidden them to be at peace till the Egyptian forces are driven into the Nile.”
“We are too late,” said the Hakim grimly.
“What! Do you think our Emir will be conquered?” said the professor eagerly.
“No, but there will be work for us to-night or to-morrow morning with the wounded. Then how can we ask the Emir to let us go?”
“The great Hakim is right,” said the Sheikh. “Hark!”
He held up his hand, and plainly enough the reports of guns and the shouting of combatants reached their ears, the fighting having already commenced, and evidently within the city, though as they waited the sounds grew more distant. But the dull trampling of unshod horses told of the passing of mounted men, and Ibrahim went out to join the guard at the gate, for he was in an intense state of excitement for fear there should be any demand made upon his camels, which were peaceably munching in the enclosure at the end of the house.
Then came a couple of hours excited waiting for that which did not happen. For at every rush of horsemen along the road outside, the prisoners felt that the expected attack had come, and again and again the Sheikh came in to reassure them by announcing that it was only a party of the Emir’s own men, for the chief had driven his enemies out of the city to the plain where the engagement was going on, but had left a strong troop of mounted men to ride to and fro to guard his house in support of the little party who had charge of the guests.
“The men think it will not be much, Excellencies, for another Emir is fighting for their chief, and they are too strong. It is like a rising against those chosen by the Khalifa, but I cannot tell much as yet.”
But distant as the scene of the conflict was, the firing reached their ears till it was turning dusk, when it suddenly ceased, as if either one side was conquered or a mutually agreed cessation of hostilities had taken place.
The first definite news of the state of affairs reached the Emir’s palace just when a considerable lapse of time had occurred without news, the last being of a kind to create anxiety, the Sheikh coming in from the gate to announce that a messenger had arrived at a gallop to summon the troop of horse, who had gone off leaving their guard looking careworn and anxious, while he forbore to speak.
And now the messenger who had suddenly galloped up to the entry, dashed in at once, flung his bridle to the Sheikh as he leapt down, and strode in to where the friends were anxiously waiting. All started and glanced at the open window, where a glimpse could be obtained of Ibrahim, to whom and his camels every thought was turned, as, without intercommunication, the same thought prevailed—flight, and would there be time to obtain their camels and make for the open desert before the victorious enemy arrived?
For the messenger, who came looking wild and excited, his flowing white garment covered with blood and dust, was the Hakim’s last patient—the Emir’s son.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
Another Patient.
The young Baggara chief was evidently in a wild state of excitement, and turned at once to the professor, saying something in his own tongue, which the Englishman struggled hard but failed, in spite of his slight knowledge of the Baggara dialect, fully to grasp.
“I can’t make him out,” said the professor excitedly. “It is something about a terrible battle and defeat.”
“He means us to escape for our lives,” said the doctor excitedly. “Yes, look,” he continued, for the young chief pointed to the window, nodded to the speaker, and hurried away.
“Quick!” said the professor; “stop for nothing. We must get to the camels, and take our chances.”
As he spoke the young chief dashed in again, followed by the Sheikh, the panting horse having been handed over to one of the guard; and this time the young man crossed to Frank, laid his left hand upon the young man’s shoulder, smiling proudly, and waving his right hand in the air as if cutting with his sword.
“The Emir’s son bears the news, Excellencies, that there has been a great battle, and that his father and his friends have routed the rebellious ones, who have taken to flight, leaving many killed and wounded, and among these there is the Emir’s greatest friend. He has been shot by a gun and is dying, but the Emir bids you be ready to bring him back to life, for he is like a brother and saved him from his treacherous foes.”
“That’s a modest demand for one evening, Robert, my son,” said the professor, with a quaintly humorous look. “How do you feel?”
“As if I had been raising the expectations of these people till the time had come for their hopes to be dashed.”
While he was speaking the triumphant blowing of trumpets and discordant beating of drums, heard faintly upon the evening air, announced the return of the victorious forces from what had doubtless been nothing much more serious than a slight skirmish. But it was serious enough for the friends.
“What is to be done?” said the professor. “We shall have to go to the dying man’s place.”
The Sheikh heard what was said, and turned to question the young chief at once.
“No, Excellencies,” he said; “the Emir is having his brother chief borne to his own house. He will be brought to the palace here, and will not be long.”
“Very well,” said the Hakim gravely; “I will do my best. The instruments, Ben Eddin,” he continued, “and what is necessary.”
Sam was already at the door, and Frank joined him, to prepare all that would be required, while the young chief looked on, eager and smiling, but standing aloof from the Hakim as if in perfect confidence as to the result, but feeling a superstitious dread of his power.
There was an interval of waiting then, with the sound of the instruments preceding the triumphant warriors coming nearer and nearer, till all at once the young chief nodded smilingly to Frank, said a few words to the Sheikh, and hurried out.
“What does that mean?” said the professor.
“He has gone to see how the chief is and will come to see you as soon as they have brought him in. He says—”
The Sheikh stopped short, and looked from one to the other as if perplexed.
“What does he say?” asked the doctor sternly.
“He said, O Hakim,” replied the Sheikh humbly, “that he hoped his father’s friend and brother was dead.”
“He said that! Why? Is this an enemy?”
“No, Excellency; it is because others of the chief men and their doctors do not believe in you, and he wants to show them how great you are.”
The professor uttered a groan and glanced in a horrified way at his old friend, who sat now on a rug, looking perfectly calm in what seemed to be an emergency.
“There is nothing to mind,” he said. “The young man is superstitious and ignorant, but his father is wise and our friend. Let us hope that the chief is not dead; but gun-shot wounds are more to be dreaded than a gash from a knife or spear. Be perfectly calm, both of you; there is nothing to mind.”
“Of course not,” said the professor, recovering himself now. “I was startled for the moment by that false alarm. No, there is nothing to mind, even if the other chiefs are sceptical. You have knowledge enough to win their respect.”
Further conversation was put an end to by the coming of the Emir himself, with his son, who entered, hot and covered with dust, to say a few words to the Sheikh, who bowed humbly to hear them.
“The Emir bids me ask you to come and save his friend, O Hakim, but he fears that it is too late.”
The doctor rose at once, signed to his followers, and then motioned to the Emir to lead on.
He drew back, however, and said a few words to his son, who led off at once, while the father walked quite humbly behind the great man to whom he owed his life.
Frank glanced wonderingly round as the little procession passed out into a kind of hall whose floor was covered with Eastern rugs, and in which were grouped about some fifty armed men, who showed plenty of grim signs of having been in a serious fray. Then onward through a couple of rooms handsomely draped with curtains which gave them the appearance of tents, and into a much larger apartment, upon a broad divan in which, dimly shown by a couple of brass lamps, lay the insensible figure of a stalwart Baggara, the blackest they had yet seen, his glistening skin showing strangely in contrast with the white folds turned back from his broad chest, and hideously stained with blood.
As the party entered several women held their head-cloths to their faces and stole silently out, leaving none there but three grim-looking Mullahs, who had evidently been playing the parts of surgeons to the injured Emir, and who scowled angrily at the little party that now entered the room. Standing silently afterwards with their hands upon their breasts they gazed through their half-closed eyes as if contemptuously waiting to hear what this infidel Hakim would say.
It was a crucial position for the doctor, but he played his part with the greatest dignity, while the Emir stood near as if in perfect confidence as to his friend’s powers, and the son glanced at Frank with a malicious look in his dark eyes, which he turned directly half-mockingly at the Mullahs.
The Hakim bowed haughtily to his Soudanese confrères, and then turned to the Sheikh.
“Stand on my left hand, a little back,” he said, “ready to interpret.”
The Sheikh bowed reverently and took his place, while to Frank the scene in the gloomy, tent-like room resembled some great picture of Eastern life that he had once seen.
Then throwing back the long white sleeves of his robe the Hakim bent down over the patient, and with rapid touches of his white hands as if he were performing some incantation—so it struck the lookers-on, though it was only the tactus eruditus of the skilled surgeon—he soon satisfied himself that his patient lived, and of the injury which had laid the strong man low.
Frank was ready with all he required, water, sponge, towels, lint, and probe, while the professor carried bottle, graduated glass, and a pocket filter slung at his side, furnished with a syphon-like tap.
The silence was strangely oppressive during those few minutes, and as he examined his patient the Hakim gave aloud the results of his examination, as if speaking expressly for the professor’s ear alone.
“Not dead,” he said, “and he has not lost much blood. A very serious wound, and the bullet without doubt there. Quite beyond my reach. No: it has not passed through. I dare probe no more to-night. I must wait for the daylight, and give him some hours to recover a little from the shock.”
Meanwhile the Emir was anxiously watching the Hakim’s actions, and when at last he saw him plug the wound with medicated lint, and then take the bandage offered by Frank, he drew a sigh of relief, grasping the fact that the Hakim would not bind up the injury of one who had passed away.
The Hakim then raised his head a little and turned to the Sheikh.
“Tell the Emir,” he said, “that his friend has received a very dangerous wound, but that I hope he will live.”
These words were translated to the chief, but in his interpretation the old Arab omitted the hopeful clause, and said definitely that the wounded man would recover.
In an instant one of the Mullahs said scornfully—
“The infidel Frank lies unto you, Emir. Thy friend is wounded unto death. See, even now he dies.”
“The great Hakim never lies,” said the Sheikh proudly. “The Emir will wait and see that the Hakim’s words are true.”
“Yes,” said the Emir sternly. “We will wait.”
Frank was standing back with his head humbly now in the shadow, holding some of the Hakim’s paraphernalia, but with watchful eyes fixed upon the three Mullahs, and as the Emir spoke he noticed a quick, meaning glance pass from one to the other which struck him as full of malice and cunning. A thought instantly shot through him which chilled him for a moment. That look meant evil, he was sure. Something malevolent against the Frankish doctor who dared to intrude upon the ignorance and superstition of a trio of Mahometan priests. What would they do?
Frank’s thoughts came like flashes of mental light, and in an instant he felt that they dared not interfere with the Hakim who was so strongly in favour with the great Emir, but in an underhanded way they might bring all he had done to naught and contrive that the wounded, helpless man’s last chance of life should fail.
The idea was horrible, but he knew for certain that in their vile bigotry the followers of Mahomet would stop at nothing in their efforts to destroy the so-called infidel, and with his pulses beginning to beat fast in his excitement he planned how he could counteract any of the machinations these people might set going.
For the more he thought the more convinced he felt that he was not misjudging these people. His memory brought up things that the old Sheikh had said about the jealousy the great Hakim had excited, and naturally enough; but what was to be done?
The first thing, he felt, must be to warn the doctor. But how? He could not speak till they were alone. Even if he attempted to whisper to the professor, who was close at hand, it would be observed, for he would betray himself as an impostor, and in betraying himself he would raise suspicion against his companions.
Those were painful moments, and he shivered and longed for the scene to come to an end, for his utter helplessness seemed to overwhelm him, and he felt ready to ask why he had placed himself in so terrible a position.
Then he uttered a faint sigh of relief, for the professor reverently approached his friend and whispered a question, to which the Hakim, who stood over his patient, watch in one hand, the fingers of the other holding the insensible man’s wrist, carefully counting the pulsations, replied by a grave bend of the head.
The professor drew back and whispered to his fellow-assistant to prepare to go, while for his own part he took the bottle, water, and glasses to the Hakim, and once more stood waiting, while Frank carefully folded up lint and bandage, and replaced the instruments in their cases.
But the Hakim did not stir, and in the midst of the impressive silence he stood there bare-headed with the light of the lamps above falling upon the deep lines in his broad, white forehead and knit brows, carefully marking the pulsations, the three Mullahs still standing with folded arms, as motionless as statues, and their eyes nearly closed; but there was a keen flash now and then through the lids as they kept an eager watch upon everything that was going on.
At last the Hakim softly lowered the wounded chiefs hand and replaced his watch, turning slightly to the professor, who took a step towards him and held out bottle and glass, when a few drops from the former were carefully measured out, a little water from the filter added, and then the clear limpid medicament was slowly and carefully trickled between the sufferer’s lips till all had passed.
At that moment there was a faint rustling behind a great curtain which draped an opening in the darkest part of the sombre room, and directly after a small, dark hand appeared and was waved to and fro.
Frank, in his watchfulness, saw everything. It was evidently the hand of one of the women who had glided out when his party entered—in all probability that of the favourite wife.
The young Emir saw it too, for he turned a questioning face to his father, who bowed his head, and the young man stepped silently across to the curtain, drew it a little aside, and stood whispering answers to the eager questions which were asked.
“The women!” thought Frank, who was ready to snatch at any straw. If he could only speak to Morris he would order that they should stay and keep watch by the sufferer’s side all night, and so baffle any nefarious attempt that might be made.
Then with a hopeful feeling arising in his breast Frank went slowly on with his task, which he could have finished at any moment, and waited for his opportunity, while, as if satisfied with the report, the inquirer drew back, a weary sigh sounding plainly out of the darkness, the curtain fell back into its former folds, and the young Emir returned to his father’s side.
By this time the administering of the sedative was ended, the professor had withdrawn with the bottle and glass, and the Hakim once more took hold of the sufferer’s swarthy wrist, to remain counting the pulsations for many minutes, before laying the hand gently down and rising to stand, with folded arms, gazing at the stern, dark, immovable face.
“Waiting. How long will he wait?” thought Frank, and his mental question was being asked by the three Mullahs who still stood like so many statues.
Quite a quarter of an hour passed, and then the Hakim slowly turned his head and looked at the Sheikh, who bent his head to attention, and a thrill ran through Frank as he heard that all his anxieties were certainly for the moment at an end, for the doctor said quietly, “Tell his Highness the Emir that his friend is in too dangerous a state to be left.”
The Sheikh interpreted the words, and received in reply the Emir’s words that the women of his household and the wounded man’s own wife would watch by his side all night.
“That is good, Ibrahim,” replied the Hakim, “but their time is not yet. Tell the Emir that I and my people will keep watch till it is safe to leave him.”
The Emir drew a deep breath indicative of his satisfaction as he heard the Hakim’s words, and then crossing to him he reverently took his hand, bent over it, and drew back, said a word or two to his son, who went to the three Mullahs and repeated his father’s message, with the result that they whispered together for a few moments and then raised their heads haughtily and stalked slowly out of the tent-like room.
The Emir then nodded shortly to his son, who, as he followed the Mullah’s example, turned out of his way to go close to Frank and pat his shoulder warmly, as if to commend him for all that had been done.
The next minute the Emir whispered again to Ibrahim, speaking earnestly, and bending reverently once more to the Hakim, he crossed to the curtain and passed behind it, the low sobbing of a woman being heard directly after. Then all was silent as the grave.
“Yes, Ibrahim, what is it?” said the doctor, for the Sheikh was waiting to speak.
“The Emir bids me say, O Hakim, that you will please consider his house your own, and order his servants to bring everything you desire. That he will have refreshing foods and drinks placed in the room through which we came, and divans and rugs are there for those who would rest. That three women of the household will be waiting all night with his friend’s wife in the room beyond the curtains there. That if you find the danger increases and his friend the Emir is about to die, you will send me to the women with the sad tidings, that he and they may come to the wounded man’s side. That he thanks, and prays for your success in bringing his friend back to life. That is all.”
“Then he does not expect me to perform miracles—to do impossibilities, Ibrahim?” said the doctor quietly.
“No, Excellency,” replied the Sheikh. “The Emir is a half-savage chief, but if he had been born in Cairo and lived amongst the English and the French he would have been great. He is wise. He says little, but he laughs in his heart at the fables of the Mullahs.”
“Then he is too sensible to take me for a prophet.”
“Oh, yes, Excellency; he thinks as I do, that you are a great physician, learned in all the wisdom of the Franks. He is a wise man, but his son is what you English call a fool. But will the Emir’s friend live? His Excellency can trust me.”
“It is very doubtful, Ibrahim,” said the doctor gravely. “There is a bullet lodged in a very dangerous part, and I fear that everything depends upon its being extracted before bad symptoms arise.”
“But the learned Hakim can do all those wonders I have seen, and cuts and sews, and the people grow well and strong.”
“Yes, Ibrahim, sometimes,” said the doctor, with a sad smile; “but not when the bullet, sword, or spear has done too much. The Emir’s friend is very bad, and if we had left to-night and these native doctors had stayed, he would never have seen the light of another day; for his life hangs upon a thread that I am going to watch and strengthen lest it should break.”
“Your Excellency is wiser in my eyes everyday I live,” said the old man softly. “Yes, he is right; if you had left here to-night the chief would have died.”
“What do you mean, Ibrahim?” whispered the professor.
“Your Excellency knows,” replied the old man quietly. “For one thing, they would not have the wisdom to do what is right. For another thing, Excellency, they are jealous with the jealousy of ignorant, superstitious believers in false doctrines.”
The professor looked at the Sheikh searchingly.
“I thought I knew you thoroughly, Ibrahim,” he said at last; “but I find you are a wiser man than I thought.”
“No, Excellency,” said the old man sadly; “I have only tried to be wise; and in a long life mixing a great deal with the people from the West I have learned far more than my people could ever know; but what is it?” he said, holding out his hollowed hand as if it contained something. “So little; and there is so much to know.”
“Yes,” said the doctor slowly, “so much to know, Ibrahim, and life seems so short. I would give even some of that for the greater power of healing that would enable me to say, This man will live.”
Chapter Twenty Eight.
A Scientific Marvel.
The day broke at last, after a long and watchful night of silence, during which the Hakim had never left his patient’s side, but he had insisted upon his companions taking watch and watch.
The patient had not stirred, but lain as motionless as if already dead, apparently free from all suffering, and displaying symptoms which made the lines grow deeper in the doctor’s brow.
Twice over during the night a slight rustling of a curtain had startled the watchers, and thoughts of treachery had arisen; but in each case the rustling was succeeded by a weary sigh, and there was silence once more.
The daylight which turned the lamp-rays pale was stealing in at the narrow window, when there was a louder rustle of the curtain, and the Emir entered, to find the Hakim bending over his friend, with Frank kneeling a short distance away.
The chief glanced round for the interpreter, and then went to the door leading into the next room, to draw back directly, for the Sheikh and Landon were lying upon divans, asleep.
The Emir nodded, and went straight to the Hakim, pointing down at the patient, questioning him with his eyes.
“Yes,” said the doctor, bowing his head; “he lives still, but I am afraid.”
The Emir seemed to grasp his meaning, and to enforce it Morris took the chiefs hand and separating his fingers, placed two upon the wounded man’s pulse.
There was a faint beating going on, and without another sign the Emir crossed to the curtain and passed out.
The sun rose soon after, and filled the gloomy room with cheery light; but the hard, drawn countenance of the wounded man suggested that dissolution could not be far distant; and when a few minutes later the professor and the Sheikh came in, refreshed by a couple of hours’ rest, the doctor, spoke in a low voice—
“Help me,” he said; “I must make another examination at all risks;” and busy minutes followed, during which the probe was used, and used in vain.
“He will sink in a few hours in spite of all I can do,” said the doctor. “If I could trace that bullet there might be a chance, and I will try; but everything is against him here.”
“What do you mean to do?” asked the professor.
The Hakim was silent, standing leaning over his patient, deep in thought, while his friends waited patiently for him to speak.
It was no longer the calm, easy-going companion now, but the earnest student of the human frame, straining every mental fibre to the encounter in this emergency.
A minute later he had turned to Frank, and spoke to him earnestly, with the result that the young man shook his head.
“Yes, I know,” said the doctor; “you are unprepared; the difficulties seem out here insuperable; but a man’s life is at stake, so is our reputation amongst these people, for one failure will balance a hundred cures, just as at home one evil deed stands out strongly against so many good which pass unnoticed. It is barely possible, but we must try.”
Frank stood for a few moments thinking, and then turned his eyes upon those of his friend.
“Think, my dear boy,” said the latter; “it may be a step nearer to finding Hal.”
Frank still remained silent. He needed no such stimulus as that, though; he was only shrinking for fear that he would fail in his part of the experiment that was to be tried.
At last his face lit-up, and signing to the professor and the Sheikh to follow him he hurried back to their part of the palace, where a leathern case that had travelled so far on the big camel, and remained unopened, was rapidly unstrapped, and one by one the carefully packed portions of some new scientific apparatus were undone and arranged upon one of the rugs placed for the purpose.
Frank worked hard, and the professor aided him with all the energy he could throw into the task, first one and then the other uttering a word or two of satisfaction to find that everything was intact.
“Is this the apparatus with which you experimented at your place?” said the professor.
They were alone, and Frank answered in a low tone full of excitement—
“Yes,” he said; “again and again with perfect success.”
“But you are nervous about it now?”
“Yes, there seems to be so much at stake. Suppose we fail?”
“The best thing Lytton ever wrote, Frank, lad,” said the professor: “‘In the bright Lexicon of youth, there is no such word as fail.’”
“Then you would try?” whispered Frank.
“Try? Yes, and succeed, my lad. Why should you not?”
“I don’t know,” sighed the young man, “unless I dread that anything should go wrong, for Morris’s sake.”
“And he would be sorry for yours. There, work. Everything seems right: battery, wires, vacuum tubes—all looking new and perfect.”
“Yes,” said Frank, whose voice trembled a little; “but if we could put the experiment off for a while, so as to test it first.”
“It might be wiser, but while we are trying the apparatus that man’s life may ebb away.”
“Then you would not wait?”
“No. Test it upon the patient. It may save him.”
Taking heart as he fully grasped the need for immediate action, Frank toiled away till he was able to say that he was ready, the Sheikh looking on in silent wonder and admiration the while.
Before the manipulator of the wondrous adaptation was ready he said a word or two to the Sheikh, who hurried out and returned with a couple of his young men, and then in solemn silence and with great care the apparatus was carried as if in procession to the great tent-like sick-chamber, where at the first glance Frank’s eyes rested upon the three Mullahs, who had returned during his absence, and once more stood together silent and scornful, gazing down at the Emir’s friend, the pulsations of whose arteries the Hakim was still feeling, while the Emir and his son stood hard by watching and waiting for the end.
No word was spoken. The Hakim turned and ran his eyes over the apparatus that was brought in and rapidly placed in position, wires connected to the battery, and after rapid preparation everything was at last announced by the professor as being ready, while Frank’s black face glistened with perspiration as he looked firmly now at his brother’s old friend, who questioned him with a look, and received a quick nod in reply.
All this while the three Mullahs looked on as such men would—old practitioners in fraud and deceit, dealing with the ignorant superstitions of their tribes—their swarthy faces darkening in contempt, treating it all as a piece of jugglery on the part of a Frankish pretender to infinite power.
But on the other hand the faces of the Emir and his son were full of wonder as well as faith, knowing so well as they did the great wisdom and skill of the man who had saved their lives.
“Now,” said the Hakim slowly and gravely, “help me, Frederick, my son. I have probed again for the bullet, and know where it must lie. You and Ibrahim must carefully turn him half upon his face.”
This was quickly done, and a thrill ran quivering through the Emir as he saw the Hakim take out a keen knife from the case that hung from his girdle, and with a quick movement divide the white garment the patient wore from neck to waist, laying bare the muscular back and side, and as quickly laying the soft white cotton fabric apart. “Now,” said the Hakim, “tell the Emir that the thick curtains must be lowered over that window and all the light shut out. That done, whatever takes place no one must move or speak.”
The words were firmly and solemnly uttered, and the place lending itself well to the purpose, the heavy rug-like curtains were allowed to fall over the window, the Emir and his son both helping, and then stopping in amaze by the drapery as for a few moments the chamber was in total darkness.
Then a strange, hissing noise arose, and heavy, startled breathing was heard, while the faces of all present were illumined by the dazzling flashes of light which began to play in a cylinder of glass.
Nothing could have been more startling to one strange to the wonders of science, for the scene was horrible and weird, suggestive to the Baggara—chiefs and Mullahs—of magic in its most awful guise. For as they stood spellbound there by the strange light which played about as if some hissing, fiery dragon were flickering its lambent tongue in and out of its glistening jaws, not only were the faces and busy hands of the Hakim and his assistants seen moving rapidly, but directly after there, in a faint glare, was the bare torso of the dying Emir.
Then, heard above the hissing of the electricity the Hakim’s voice was heard, and all eyes were turned to him as the flashes of light brightened his stern, firm face.
“Ibrahim,” he said, “bid the Emir come here to my side.”
The order was interpreted, and firmly and without a moment’s hesitation, the swarthy chief walked close up to the divan, noting as he did so that the flashes of light in the cylinder glanced from the keen knife which the Hakim held.
“Now,” said the latter calmly, “tell him that as a last effort I am about to try and find where the bullet which is slaying his friend is lying.”
The Sheikh’s voice trembled a little as he spoke, but he interpreted the words clearly, and the Emir said softly—
“The Hakim is wise and great.”
“Now!” said the doctor sharply, and wonder of wonders! the upper portion of the wounded man’s flank was seen to become transparent, the muscular portions to dissolve in a soft, dull light, leaving the bones weirdly plain as if he had long passed away, and the awe-stricken beholders were gazing upon the skeleton remains; while most horrible of all, amidst the low murmur of dread which arose from the Mullahs and Ibrahim, a skeleton hand suddenly darted out, holding a knife and pointed to a small, round, black spot close to the dark backbone.
“Enough!” said the Hakim loudly. “Quick, the light!”
No legendary Eastern magic ever expressed one-half the marvels of that scene. One moment the electricity was hissing and the bright flashes playing about, giving ghastly effects to the faces of all, as, wild with horror, they gazed at the dull, black skeleton and the horrible pointing hand; the next the hissing had ceased, the vision had died out, and then there was a rustling noise as the curtain was torn away and the Hakim was seen in the bright sunlight, bending over the prostrate man.
A quick movement or two followed, the knife was thrown down and instruments used, and the Hakim said shortly—
“Water—sponge.”
The professor had only to take a step, and then with a rapidity that was almost marvellous the marks of blood had been removed, a little lint and a bandage applied, and the Hakim was pointing to a large bullet, that which had nearly passed through the wounded man without touching a vital place.
“It is great,” said the Emir simply, as he took up the globe of lead, and then turned to the Sheikh.
“Ask the great Hakim if now my friend will live. No, ask not,” he said. “I know.”
Then a peculiar smile of contempt played about his stern face as he stood watching the three Mullahs, who, with bended heads, were slowly passing to the door and leaving the room without a word.
The Hakim did not even turn his head to look after them, but glanced at Frank and the professor, who were rapidly disconnecting wires and placing the apparatus ready for sending back to their quarters. Then feeling what the Emir must have said, he looked him full in the eyes and said in plain English—
“I think your friend will recover now, Emir. Go and tell those who love him what I say.”
Then turning to the Sheikh the old man gravely interpreted the words, and the Emir caught at and kissed the Hakim’s hand, before hurrying out, followed by his son.
“Bravo, Ben Eddin!” said the professor excitedly. “Here, Ibrahim, fetch in your men to carry these things back to our rooms.”
“Yes, Excellency,” said the old man quietly; “but truly the Hakim is great. Tell me, is this magic—I have long thought all that we have been taught was childish tales, but after what I have seen—”
“Believe as you did before, Ibrahim,” said the doctor gravely, as he laid his hand upon the old man’s shoulder; “there is no magic, but the wonders of Nature are greater far. This is only another of the discoveries of science. You have heard at Cairo the voices come along the wire?”
“Yes, Excellency, and the machine that speaks.”
“Yes, and this is another of the marvels we have learned.”
“But they will believe it is magic,” said the old man.
“Well, let them,” said the Hakim calmly. “Now, quick, and get all this away. My patient must have perfect quiet if he is to live.”
“Thank you, Frank, boy,” said the doctor, as soon as the Sheikh had left the room. “You managed everything to perfection. I little thought I should have to operate out here with the Röntgen rays.”
Chapter Twenty Nine.
Frank’s Friend.
“The young Emir wants you to go out with him, Excellency,” said Ibrahim the same day, towards evening.
Frank stared, and not feeling safe, remained silent, but the professor spoke for him.
“Wants him to go out? What for?”
“It is out of friendly feeling, Excellency,” replied the Sheikh. “They are much of an age, and the young Emir says that Ben Eddin is wonderful.”
“But it is so strange,” said the professor; “the one is a chief, and the other a slave.”
“Yes, Excellency, but Ben Eddin is not a white, and he can be friends with him.”
“I suppose it means friendliness, Frank, and if you refuse it will give offence. Ah, here’s the Hakim. How is your patient?”
“Calming down into a natural sleep, and certainly better.”
The professor told him of the young Emir’s message, and the Hakim looked grave.
“We cannot refuse,” he said, “and it may mean a fresh opportunity for getting new. You must go, Frank.”
After the first surprise the latter felt all eagerness, for the reason expressed by his friend, and going out into the garden he found the young Emir impatiently waiting for him, and ready to greet him with a warmth which showed that the object was friendly in the extreme, but he stopped short, frowning and pointing to the young man’s side.
For a few minutes Frank looked at him in a puzzled way, for his words were perfectly unintelligible, till signs were made, the young Emir touching his belt, sword, and dagger, and then pointing to the house.
After the gift that had been made a short time before there could be no mistaking the meaning, and Frank went back to his room, took down the sword, dagger, and belt from the wall, and walked back fastening them on.
The young Emir’s face lit-up with a boyish look of pleasure, and he stood looking at the young Englishman for a few moments before making a sign to him and hurrying off into the building, to return with a fine white cotton robe, which he threw over Frank’s shoulders, and then stepped back to look at him with satisfaction, before catching him by the arm and leading him to the gate, where Frank fully expected to see camels waiting for them.
To his surprise two of the Baggara were standing there with the guards holding a couple of fiery Arabian horses, and the young Emir signed to Frank to mount, setting the example by springing up with all the activity of one used from childhood to the saddle.
“Takes it for granted that I can ride,” said Frank to himself, and he stepped up to the beautiful animal, glanced at bit and reins, and then examined the stirrups, which were after the fashion of those used by Arab horsemen, far too short for an Englishman’s style of riding.
He made signs to the man who held the horse, pointing to the stirrup leathers, but in vain, till he began to alter them himself, when the second man grasped what was wanted, and smiling rather contemptuously, made the alteration.
Frank was modest enough in his self-estimation, and as he saw the restless movements of the beautiful little highly bred creature his first thought was, “I hope I shall not be thrown.” For his experience of riding was connected with ordinary, tamely disposed English hacks and cobs, and his opportunities had been infrequent. Still he had been taught, and as soon as the stirrups were properly adjusted he took the reins, checked with a touch on the off side the horse’s disposition to edge away, and mounted, the beautiful animal making a quick bound as soon as its new rider was in the saddle.
But Frank was not unseated, and to his great delight he found his steed’s motions easy in the extreme, as it ambled along by its companion’s side, while to the young man’s profound satisfaction his new friend led him in quite a fresh direction to any in which he had previously been.
They were in a far more important part of the city, passing better houses, some with fair gardens; palm and mimosa trees overtopped walls. Here and there the houses had rough balconies, and he caught a glimpse of the Mahdi’s tomb, a white-topped domed building looking like a gigantic egg set on end, with four small ones to form corners, some attempt at ornamentation, and for apex what appeared to be a great gilded spear thrust through a couple of brass balls.
To his great surprise they passed a busy marketplace and rough-looking shops, the dwellings of traders and makers of horse trappings and camel saddles; others displayed cotton fabrics, some even with ornamentations of silk; then makers of brass work, swords, and spears with the round shields carried by so many of the fighting men; and as they rode on through crowds of busy people he found that his companion was evidently noting his surprise and ready to smile with satisfaction at the interest he displayed.
In his other excursions he and his companions had been the observed of all, and at every turn those they passed had turned to gaze, generally with scowls, at them and their protecting guard, and he had often felt that it was to the latter that they owed their safety. But now it was different: his black face and the company he was in made him seem one of the people, so that his appearance caused no surprise, and he was able to ride on perfectly unnoticed by the common folk and the many armed, overbearing, mounted and pacing warriors they passed.
It was a novel and a wonderfully interesting scene as he hastily noticed how plain it was that he was riding through a conquered city in which the tribes from far south were displaying at every turn their contempt for and insolence to the humbled people they had mastered, and over whom they ruled by the sword and spear. He noted, too, the difference in type of feature, darkness of skin, and dress, between the various tribes, all of whom, however, were at one in their bullying aspect and overbearing way towards the humbled natives among whom they had taken up their residence; and hence it was that for the time being Frank had it forced upon him by the servile actions and harried ways of the men who stepped aside to let him and his companion pass, that he was looked upon as a member of one of the conquering race—one of the feared, instead of the contemned.
Frank’s spirits rose as they rode on past rough bazaar and well built house, and the disappointment he had felt at the sudden check to their plans of obtaining permission to proceed to Khartoum died quite away. For he learned in this change of position that the city had not half been searched, and as his eyes wandered here and there it was with the feeling that at any minute he might come upon the face he so eagerly sought, while in spite of a feeling of shrinking repugnance to his companion he began to realise how valuable a kind of friendship between them might prove, especially if their intercourse meant a freedom in traversing the city unencumbered by their guards.
It became more and more evident as they rode on, and his manifest pleasure and excited interest in all he saw about the place was noted, that the young Emir was perfectly satisfied, and grasping how he examined the better homes, paused from time to time for him to notice the houses and gardens they passed, and the servants and slaves of their occupants.
“It is just out of friendliness,” thought Frank, “a return for my nursing when he was in a dying state. Everyone has some form of gratitude in him. Would it be possible to find poor Hal, and then appeal to the Emir and his son to let us buy the prisoner and take him away?”
Frank’s heart sank again directly, for he felt that it was improbable in the extreme. They were nothing better than prisoners themselves, and the most to be expected would be that his brother’s slavery might be ameliorated by a change of masters.
“Better that than how he is,” thought the young man at last, “for the Emir undoubtedly respects us, and that last experiment must have raised us all wonderfully in his eyes.”
He was thinking of this as he passed one of the best houses he had seen—a place where, in a rough courtyard, armed men were grouped with their camels and horses. There was a great covered well in the centre, with dejected-looking men busy drawing water, and through the open windows of the low terraced house he had glimpses of the turbaned, white-robed occupants.
The place interested Frank for reasons he could not have explained, and he would gladly have sat watching what was going on; but it was evidently the dwelling of some powerful dervish Emir, and his companion rode up to one of the armed men seated upon a slightly built, swift-looking camel. Their colloquy was very brief, and the young Emir turned to him, said something, and pressing his horse’s sides galloped onwards towards a wide opening, the steed Frank rode keeping close to its fellow’s side.
A minute later the young Baggara drew bridle again in the middle of the opening, about which were several low buildings, and the place being without interest, save that there were several groups of fighting men about, and some slight scaffold-like suggestions of building being commenced, Frank’s thoughts went back to the house they had passed, as he felt again that it must be the palace of some powerful chief among the conquerors, while the open space where they stood was the Soudanese idea of a yard for his followers.
Then a sudden thought occurred to him, that it was the home of the Emir’s wounded friend, and at once it had a fresh interest; but he had no time for further thought, for the young Baggara gave his hand a wave round, laughing the while in a peculiar way, and then pointed forward, urging his horse into a gallop, for there was an open, unencumbered road before them.
Frank’s beautiful steed needed no urging, but sprang forward on the instant, and their gallop was not checked till they were right out of the city and upon the open plain beyond, where their horses stretched out together like a leash of greyhounds, the young chief whooping and shouting with delight as he found that his companion rode easily and well, while he evidently enjoyed the invigorating rush through the air.
At the end of three or four miles the horses were turned, and they ambled back then towards the widespreading, drab-looking city, the white dome of the tomb Frank had before noted standing up glistening and clear in the bright sunshine.
And now Frank fully grasped how much more important a place Omdurman was than he had before imagined, and a feeling of satisfaction came over him at the thought that his ride out had not been for naught, and that it would have been unwise to have left the place even if they could have obtained permission.
“If I could only understand what he says,” thought Frank, for his companion was bright and excited now by the ride. His ordinary sombre, half-sulky manner had passed off, and he chattered away volubly as they rode on, perfectly contented that his companion was silent, as he seemed to be explaining something and pointing away to their left over the plain.
Frank was puzzled, but it did not seem to matter to the young Emir, who went on, evidently giving a vivid description of something, till Frank grasped all he meant like a flash, and rising in his stirrups he gazed hard in the pointed-out direction, to find endorsement of the idea that had flashed upon his brain. For there, plainly enough seen through the clear air, and not half a mile away, were dots of white and grey and cream colour, with overhead scores and scores of birds sailing slowly here and there, and occasionally dipping down and disturbing others, which rose on sluggish wing.
It was evidently the scene of the previous night’s engagement, and with a look of fascinated horror in his eyes Frank gazed hard at his companion, who nodded eagerly, threw up his right hand to shake the flowing white robe clear, leaned a little on one side, and flashed out his keen sword. Then drawing back his lips from his white teeth he uttered a fierce yell of “Allah!—Allah hu!” and increased their pace to a gallop, cutting and thrusting savagely the while at an imaginary enemy for a few minutes, before checking his horse again and bursting into a savage laugh of delight, as he let the reins fall upon his beautiful animal’s neck, and taking up the skirt of his white robe made believe to wipe the blood from his glistening sword before returning it to its sheath.
“And I’m to look at you in a friendly way and applaud you as a brave warrior, when I feel all the time that you are only a cruel butcher of your fellow-creatures,” thought Frank. “But I must not show it, for through you I may find poor old Hal, for he must be here after all, and I shall find him yet: I know I shall. Why, who can say but what I may have ridden past the very house to-day where he is kept as a slave?”
He meant something far different by the bright look of satisfaction which sparkled from his eyes, but the young Emir in his egotism took it to himself, and smiled and nodded as they rode gently on, Frank finding that they were retracing their steps towards the opening through which they had reached the plain, and a very short time after they were approaching the open, barrack-yard-like place, which now to his surprise was crowded with armed men, among whom were groups who could be nothing else but captives, for to his horror he saw that they were bound.