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Young Jack Harkaway Fighting the Pirates of the Red Sea.
By BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG,
Author of “Young Jack Harkaway in Arabia,” “Young Jack Harkaway in the Wilds of Siberia,” “Young Jack Harkaway in Armenia,” “Young Jack Harkaway Fighting the Slave Traders of the Soudan,” “Young Jack Harkaway in Cuba,” etc., etc.
CHAPTER I.
YOUNG JACK HARKAWAY’S FRIENDS BECOME ANXIOUS ABOUT HIM—A MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE—HARRY GIRDWOOD MEETS HUNSTON.
Harry Girdwood, Young Jack Harkaway’s old and particular chum, Mrs. Harkaway and Mole, the great professor, and Monday, the ex-prince of Limbi, were in the City of Mecca.
Young Jack had been missing for some days.
They were greatly concerned about him.
All their inquiries had failed to elicit any information respecting him.
When last seen Jack had been on his way to the holy kaiaba in Mecca, which contains the coffin and the remains of the prophet Mahomet.
Harry had been there.
He had interviews with the chief priests.
They were named Feroze and Mordecai, but both denied having seen or heard of Harkaway.
Neither did they know the name of Hunston.
They were non-communicative.
What could have become of him? The more they thought of it the more perplexed they grew.
Harry Girdwood went to the consuls, and to the Sultan. In no direction could they learn anything.
Clara, Young Jack’s wife, became quite sick, and fretted extremely.
Professor Mole and Monday made various suggestions about Young Jack’s absence.
But they did nothing to find him.
“If the truth is known,” remarked Mole, in the smoking room one evening after dinner, to Monday, Clara and Harry being up-stairs, “Young Jack has been cornered by Hunston.”
“That’s not at all unlikely, sah!” answered Monday. “It is the fate of all of us to get de push sometimes.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“Sit still and look on. Massa Jack know his business. He come out all right.”
“That’s what you say.”
“I’se sure.”
A messenger boy attached to the caravanserai came in, and holding up a letter, spoke.
“Harkaway’s friend, Girdwood!” he exclaimed.
“That is me,” replied Harry, who had come down to smoke a cigar.
“The letter is addressed that way.”
“I’ll take it.”
He did so, and opening it, read:
“Dear Old Harry:—I am in a most confounded fix.
“In the kaiaba I met Hunston and Mordecai. They are both my enemies.
“No time to write much, but they tortured and imprisoned me. A slave got me out of the temple, and took me to the ship, Catamaran, Captain Koosh. They are all pirates.
“My life is in danger every day. I am a prisoner on the pirate ship.
“You will wonder how I send this letter.
“I had concealed my diamond ring. An Arab who waited on me was going to Mecca. I bribed him with the ring to see that you had my letter. Take a ship and come after me. The pirates will kill me soon if I don’t pay the sum they demand for ransom, and you know my obstinate disposition.
“Come to me. You, Mole, Monday and my dear wife, Clara. We are not far up the coast.
“Look out for the Catamaran, Captain Koosh, Pirate ship.”
Harry read the letter aloud.
Mole and Monday were deeply impressed.
The mystery was solved now.
“Well,” exclaimed Harry Girdwood, “we shall have to do as we are told. Jack is the leader, and we will have to follow him.”
“The first thing to do is to charter a ship,” remarked Mole.
“That’s easy done, sah,” replied Monday. “The man we go fishing with has one to hire.”
“What is it called?” asked Harry.
“The Flying Fish.”
“Good name. Push it along.”
“We will.”
“I say!” cried Harry, “will you two go and engage the ship—take her for a month. I am not particular to terms.”
“We will do it at once,” replied Mole. “I shan’t pay what they ask, but make the best bargain I can.”
“That is it!”
Monday and Mole went away to see after the ship, and Harry talked to Clara.
She was greatly concerned about her husband’s capture by the pirates of the Red Sea.
They sent for the Arab who had brought the letter.
He was a man of thirty years of age, named Kardofan.
No one could deny his intelligence.
Harry questioned him.
The pirate ship, of which Jack spoke, was the Catamaran, full rigged and well manned.
She was not always engaged in piratical business.
Her mission at present was to go up the Red Sea a few miles to a place of small importance called the Pilgrim’s Rest, and convey them to the coast near Mecca.
Although it was an insignificant town, it contained three large hotels.
Pilgrims came there waiting for a conveyance to Mecca, where they were to visit the shrine of Mahomet.
Transferring was a good business at times for Koosh and his blood-thirsty associates.
“Do you think we can catch up with the Catamaran?” asked Harry.
“Yes, sahib, no doubt about it,” replied Kardofan. “We do that easy.”
“Well, I will engage you in my service. You shall be my companion,” said Harry, “and I will be your philosopher and friend.”
“Me be the guide, massa. Show you de boat for suah.”
“Go into the saloon. There are two dollars for you. Eat and drink—enjoy yourself. I know what you niggers are, but don’t get drunk!”
“Drinkee for dry, massa,” replied Kardofan. “Me nebber drinkee for drunkee.”
“I will believe you this time, but I haven’t much confidence in you.”
“Treat me all I’m worth.”
Kardofan went away highly pleased with the present which had been given to him.
It was more than he expected.
A little money goes a long way in the East, where the natives live principally on rice.
“You intend to find my husband?” exclaimed Clara; “I shall be deeply indebted to you, Harry, if you will exert yourself and do your best.”
“Do you think I would ever desert Jack?” cried Harry. “I love him too much. We have always been dear chums, and always shall be.”
“You will save him?”
“Or perish in the attempt.”
This was enough for Clara; it strengthened and encouraged her.
She knew that she could depend on Harry Girdwood to the last moment.
“We shall have a vessel of our own,” continued Harry, “in a very short time. That will enable us to rescue Jack from the pirates of the Red Sea.”
“I hope we shall be fortunate enough to do so.”
“Rest assured of that.”
“I will, for I know I can trust in you,” replied Clara. “Jack never had a truer friend than you.”
“I have always devoted myself to him, and if I have been of use to him on certain occasions and risked anything, I am sure he would have done the same thing for me a thousand times over.”
“He has told me so again and again. You are true friends, I know.”
“Call us Damon and Pythias, Pylades and Orestes. Jack and I will never desert one another.”
The affection existing between these two was very pathetic.
Lunch was placed on the table.
Scarcely had Clara and Harry sat down, than Mole and Monday returned.
“Got such a golly ship, sah,” exclaimed Monday, excitedly.
“The Flying Fish?” asked Girdwood.
“Yes, Massa Harry, that am him.”
“Is she ready for sea?”
“She fit ter romp or jump right on.”
“That is good enough! Find Kardofan. He is our guide to Pilgrim’s Rest.”
Mole took off his straw hat and fanned himself.
“This is a welcome change,” said he. “I love the sea, and the excitement of following the pirates to rescue Jack will be a pleasant diversion.”
“Nothing to compare with it,” replied Harry.
In a few moments Kardofan came in smiling with pleasure and satisfaction.
He rubbed his stomach complacently.
“Very good feed they give here,” he remarked. “Me a judge of lobscouth and sea pie.”
“We will give you something better than that on board the Flying Fish.”
“You got that ship, sah?”
“Yes, it is mine for a time!”
“The very best schooner on the Red Sea. She beat the Catamaran in sailing.”
“I am glad to hear that,” replied Harry.
Their preparations did not take long.
They reached the coast before sundown and embarked on board the newly hired vessel.
She had a full crew on board, and was fully equipped with stores.
These were calculated to last for several weeks.
Kardofan acted as pilot.
The saloon was commodious and well ventilated with punkahs to cool the air.
This was really a valuable consideration in such a sultry climate.
There the thermometer has no respect for foreigners, and the mercury especially laughs at Europeans.
When the sun went down and the moon rose amid the twinkling stars, a cool breeze sprang up.
It was indeed welcome, for the hot air, sand-laden like a sirocco, was difficult to breathe.
Supper had been served by obsequious natives. Clara was reclining in a hammock, fanned by wind from the port-holes.
Harry was smoking and thinking. Mole and Monday were seated at a table on which was a flask of wine, but alas! no ice!
This was a luxury not to be obtained in those latitudes.
“Here we are, sah! Pass de claret!” said Monday.
“Still on deck, boy. Bring out the poker dice, and I will see if I can make a full house,” replied Mole.
The box was produced.
At that moment Kardofan entered.
There was a look of alarm on his countenance.
He approached Harry.