Gege-Merak fairly danced with rage at this defiance. He gave a command which at first his men seemed reluctant to execute, but finally two of them approached Ketti, seized him and drew him away, binding his arms to his sides. Iva was frantic at this act, and we had to warn her several times to be quiet or we should surely be discovered by those below.
It was while I was busy soothing Iva that I heard a shot and a cry of agony, and turned in time to see Van Dorn fall flat upon his face. Poor fellow, the treasure had cost him his life. However treacherous he had been in his dealings with Lovelace, with Abdul Hashim and with us, his final alliance with old Gege-Merak had brought him into contact with a nature as unscrupulous as his own, and the barbaric chief had evened up all scores by robbing the man of his ill-gotten wealth and his life at once.
But it seemed that Gege-Merak’s vengeance was not yet complete, and we could see from the tense and strained attitudes of the warriors that Van Dorn’s death was but an incident in the drama. If, indeed, the chief had cause to hate Ketti, that young man’s rash interference with his commands had given Gege-Merak the chance, perhaps long desired, to punish him. It may be he lived in fear of the handsome fellow who was destined to succeed him at his death, for Ketti’s popularity with the tribe was indisputable. Anyway, his orders, now given in a firm, loud voice, seemed instantly to seal the fate of Iva’s lover.
Bound and helpless as he was, the young man was led to the spot where Van Dorn had stood and set with his back against the wall of rock. But there was no craven spirit in the victim this time. Proudly the warrior stood facing his chief, his pose erect, his dark eyes calmly regarding his destroyer and a slight smile of scorn curling his lips.
Gege-Merak shouted his commands, but not a tribesman moved to obey. Softly Iva reached out her hand and grasped my repeating rifle, and I let her take it. She knelt before me, her brown face rigid, her eyes dark with horror, and rested the barrel on the ledge of rock before her. I saw Uncle Naboth and Ned glance at each other significantly; but they made no move to interfere.
Again and again the chief shouted his orders, waving his arms imperiously and stamping his foot in rage; but the Bega stood stolid and unyielding, and their Bisharin allies shrank back and huddled in a frightened group in the rear.
Gege-Merak himself snatched a rifle from a warrior’s hand and swinging around leveled it full at Ketti. At the same instant Iva’s rifle cracked beside me and I saw the aged chief totter, drop his weapon and sink slowly to the earth. A shout went up from the assembled group below, and with one impulse they turned their eyes toward us.
And now the girl sprang upon the dizzy ledge and stood where all might see her figure clearly outlined against the sky. High above her head she held the rifle that had slain her wicked grandsire, and as the Bega recognized her they shouted again—joyfully this time—and waved their hands to her in full approval of her act.
I own I was horrified for a moment, remembering the ties of blood between Iva and Gege-Merak; but she was a wild, half-civilized child of the desert, and to her simple mind her lover’s life must be preserved at any cost.
All was eager animation in the ravine. Ketti’s bonds were quickly removed, and the big fellow waved his thanks to the sweetheart whose courage had saved him.
“Come,” said Iva, calmly, as she stepped down to a safer position beside us. “There are only friends in Ketti’s tribe now; let us go to him.”
As hastily as might be we groped our way down the dangerous pathway to the ground below the cliffs. There we regained our camels and made for the desert, around the spur of the mountain, and so up the regular trail to the mouth of the ravine.
Ketti was eagerly awaiting us, and as she saw him Iva quickly rode forward and threw herself from her camel to crouch with bowed head before the new chief.
Coming to her side, Ketti raised her gently and, while we watched with curiosity from one side and the assembled Bega watched from the other, the young warrior gravely placed one hand beneath Iva’s chin, palm upward, and the other hand upon her head, palm down.
This, we learned afterward, was the betrothal ceremony of the Bega. When a young man chose his bride he went to her and took her chin and head between his palms, and thus made claim to her for all time. None other dared afterward make advances to the girl, under penalty of incurring her affianced youth’s anger. Indeed, I was told this was frequently the only ceremony performed at all, whether of betrothal or marriage, by many of the tribes, although there was a form of native wedding that included various and lengthy rites and involved much feasting and dancing.
The girl, it seems to me, has not a fair chance in this custom, for she is not allowed to refuse a man who so salutes her. It is true a brother or father may challenge a presumptuous warrior and fight him to the death, but the girl herself is helpless.
I am sure Ketti and Iva had an elaborate wedding ceremony thereafter; but that is not a part of my story, from which I fear I have digressed.
Feeling quite safe with the friendly Ketti, we had no hesitation in following him and his band into the ravine, where we dismounted and went at once to examine the body of Van Dorn. He was quite dead, having been shot through the heart, and Ned Britton lifted him and bore him to one of the low tents, of which Ketti willingly gave us the use. Gege-Merak’s body still lay upon its face where it had fallen, and to my surprise none of the natives touched it or even so much as glanced toward it, so far as I could see.
In the tent, Ned and one of the sailors searched Van Dorn’s clothing and removed from it the leathern belt, his rings and watch and a small note-book. Last they found, sewn into the lining of his well-worn coat, a package, rather bulky, though flat, covered with goat-skin, tied and sewn securely and carefully sealed. These things I took possession of, and Uncle Naboth and I went to see Ketti to get permission to bury the body.
We found the young chief seated on a rock beside Iva, with whom he was conversing most earnestly. He smiled at us as we came up, and said:
“We have made changes, Effendi. I am now chief.”
“So I understand, Ketti,” I answered, “and I’m glad of it. We are friends with the Bega now, are we not?”
“We are friends,” he announced, gravely. “Gege-Merak was bad, and had no love for you. He loved treasure better, and killed the Red-beard to get it all. But Ketti does not want his brothers’ wealth. It is enough that you have paid the Bega to guide and protect you.”
“Do you mean that you will return to us the treasure?” I asked, striving to conceal my astonishment.
“It is not Ketti’s. It was not Gege-Merak’s. It is yours,” he said, simply. “My tribe shall not rob, nor shall they slay their friends. While I am chief, the Bega who call me master must be honest and good, and keep the laws the great Khedive has made. Is it not so, Iva?”
“It is the only way for our tribe to prosper and grow in strength,” she answered, soberly. “Under our great and good Chief Ketti we will be rich and strong, and our father the Khedive will call us good children.”
“You shall say, when you return to Koser,” continued Ketti, regarding us earnestly, “that my tribe was true and honest, and touched not one jewel of your treasure. You will say that we guided you straight and protected you from enemies and thieves and earned your money well. Is it so, Effendi?”
“We will say that, Ketti,” I replied.
“But there are also things which you will not say, Effendi,” he continued, with a note of anxiety in his voice.
“And what are they, my friend?”
“You will not say my people killed the Red-beard; for you do not know what killed him. You will not say where he is gone, for that you do not know. Is not the land broad for men to wander in? And if any asks you about Gege-Merak you will be sorrowful and tell how he died in the desert, being old and feeble, and you will say that Ketti succeeded him as chief of the tribe. Then you will mount the great ship that awaits you and sail away.”
I began to understand. Ketti intended to make a bargain with us. He feared the consequences of the murder of Van Dorn and did not want the fact that Iva had shot her grandfather known. If we would promise to be discreet in these matters he would restore to us the treasure, which he considered another element of danger to him, not realizing that we were slyly removing it in defiance of the Khedive’s orders. Had he known that—but, fortunately, he did not know it.
“It shall be as you say, Chief Ketti,” I returned; “for we wish you and Iva only happiness, and to tell some things might cause you trouble. If your father the Khedive asks us of your service, we will say you are a good chief, and faithful.”
That pleased him greatly.
“The treasure is untouched,” said he. “Not a seal is broken. It awaits your orders, Effendi.”
Willingly he gave us permission to bury the Professor among the rocks, which we did during the afternoon. When we returned to the ravine from this labor we were surprised to notice that in our absence the natives had gathered several heaps of stones, which were piled in the form of a wide circle around Gege-Merak’s body. But the body itself had not been disturbed, and the Bega were now lounging in various parts of the ravine and conversing together in their customary indifferent manner.
Ketti came to us with the information that we should start at dawn next morning for Koser, which he hoped to reach in two days’ fast riding.
“But what will you do with Gege-Merak?” I inquired.
“His ceremony of entombment will be held this evening, Effendi. Your people will be welcome to watch the solemn rites,” he added.
We had supper and awaited with curiosity to witness the proposed ceremony; but the natives were in no hurry, and showed no activity until the stars were bright in the sky.
At a word from Ketti, every Bega and Bisharin sprang up and stood in a circle around the dead chief’s body. Beginning a low chant they now commenced to move slowly around Gege-Merak, keeping step to the chant and bending in lithe, rhythmic attitudes characteristic of the Eastern dances. And ever the chorus grew louder and faster until it became a roar and at last a wild shout. Also the excitement of the warriors increased until presently they were dancing with frenzied leaps.
Suddenly, as they circled round just beside the piles of rock, each man seized a stone from the nearest heap and hurled it at the dead body. From the next pile he grabbed another stone, until the missiles were raining upon Gege-Merak’s prostrate form from every direction. As the dance reached its climax of animation and the shower of rock continued, the old chief’s body began to disappear from sight, until he was covered up entirely and entombed in a mound of stone several feet in height.
It was a shocking sight, and seemed to us extremely brutal; but Iva, who stood by our side, calmly declared it was the custom of her people, and that a chief was highly honored who was thus buried by his people where he fell or expired. The chant, she told us, was a relation of his virtues and his mighty deeds on earth.
If a chief dies or is killed on the desert, his people cast sand upon him, in like manner, and afterward weight the mound with rocks; and, as his body is never moved from the spot where he expired, they take down his tent or house after the funeral and set up the habitation in another place, leaving his burial mound stationary.
The wild chant rang in my ears long after the grim ceremony was completed and the camp had become quiet for the night. We Americans slept uneasily through the next few hours and at dawn awoke to eat a hasty breakfast and mount our camels.
The panniers were replaced on the two extra animals by Ned and Bryonia, who now took charge of the treasure. We were pleased to observe the truth of Ketti’s statement that the wax upon the buckles of the panniers had not been tampered with and was still intact.
The Bisharin left us here and went away to their village, and without incident we traversed the trail back to Koser, which we reached, weary but exultant, at the close of the second day.
My father and a number of sailors, apprised by a swift messenger of our coming, were at the wooden dock to meet us, and we unstrapped the four treasure-laden panniers from the saddles of the camels and sent them on board by a boat commanded by Ned in person.
Captain Steel produced the hundred and eighty pounds due to Ketti for his services, according to the contract we had made with Gege-Merak, and I asked that an extra gold piece be given to each of the Bega warriors, which was willingly agreed to since we had been successful in our quest. It made the simple fellows very happy indeed.
After consulting with Uncle Naboth and gaining his consent, I opened the Professor’s leathern belt and took from it the prettiest jewel it contained, a diadem of yellow gold set with clusters of pearls and sapphires. This I presented to Iva as a wedding present from her American friends, and the beautiful girl was proud indeed of the gift, as well she might be. Once, perhaps, it had adorned the brow of some famous Egyptian queen, and though it might now appear incongruous upon the person of a poor Bega woman, we were so grateful to Iva for the service she had rendered us that we thought it none too good to express our appreciation.
We parted from Ketti and his people in the mostly friendly manner, and he returned that night to his village in the desert.
It was not so easy to get rid of the bearded Arab sheik of Koser, who was curious to know what we had brought from Luxor and what adventures we had met on the way. It was strange, he added, that the Bega had brought us safe back again; it was not like that clever, evil old Gege-Merak. Fortunately no one had told him of the old chief’s death, or he would have been still more curious.
But we refused to satisfy the fellow’s desire to gossip and kept our mouths fast shut when he was around. Also we refused his polite offers of entertainment and to his disgust hoisted sail early the next morning and head up the gulf toward Port Ibrahim.
Now that we had the treasure safe aboard, every moment we delayed was fraught with danger, and the doubtful friendship of this sheik of Koser was no longer of any value to us.
The treasure was taken from the panniers and, still snugly packed in the canvas sacks which Van Dorn had so carefully sealed, carried to my stateroom and dumped unceremoniously into a huge chest.
After a brief conference we had decided to leave it untouched until after we had passed through the Suez Canal and, free from the shores of Egypt, were safe on the broad waters of the Mediterranean. Then we would open the sacks, sort and examine the treasure, and divide it in ways still to be agreed upon. Our contract with Van Dorn, you will remember, gave us his share in case of his death.
And now, while we sailed up the long branch of the Red Sea which is called the Arabian Gulf, I examined with some curiosity the things Ned had taken from the Professor’s dead body.
His note book had been a sort of diary, but from it several leaves had been torn, as if he had recorded events which he afterward feared might compromise him, and had thus destroyed their written evidence. From what remained I gathered that the man was no “professor” at all, but a wandering adventurer attracted to Egypt by the recent valuable discoveries there. Falling in with Lovelace, he had hired his services to that savant to assist his search, and from scattered notations in the book I formed the shrewd conclusion that the fellow had never possessed the shadow of a claim to Lovelace’s discovery. Abdul Hashim had read his character fairly well, and it seemed that Van Dorn had played a desperate and murderous game to win the treasure for himself and rob, incidentally, the real discoverer and any others who might lay claim to a portion of the buried wealth.
Turning from the note book, I cut the stitches of the goatskin cover of the parcel which Van Dorn had so cleverly concealed in the lining of his coat, and proceeded to break the seals, which I observed bore the monogram “J. L.,” surmounted by a winged sphinx. This was not Van Dorn’s seal, but that of Lovelace Pasha, and I judged that after the owner had sewn and sealed the packet it had in some way come into the possession of Van Dorn, who had never yet ventured to open it.
At this time all of those most interested were gathered with me in the Captain’s room: Uncle Naboth, Ned, Archie and Joe, as well as my father. When I removed the covering a small locket dropped out, and this I opened to glance at a sweet, womanly face that met my gaze.
Over my shoulder came a sob and a cry and Joe seized the locket from my hands.
“My mother!” he said, softly, as he devoured the miniature with eager, loving eyes.
We looked at the boy in astonishment.
“Your mother, Joe?” I questioned, stupidly.
He swiftly drew from beneath his clothing the slender chain which I had often observed he wore around his neck, and showed us a similar locket attached to it. Opening this with trembling fingers, the boy laid the lockets side by side, and we saw that the portraits were nearly identical.
“Father and I each had one,” he said, in an awed whisper; “mother has often told me that.”
“Did you ever know what became of your father, Joe?” I inquired.
“No; he went away when I was a baby, and we never heard of him again. For that reason mother was sure he was dead, for she said he loved her and would not otherwise have deserted her.”
“Then,” said I, softly, “you are about to discover your father, Joe; for the man who wrote this and owned the locket could be none other.”
“Wrote what?” asked Uncle Naboth.
I had been hastily examining a flat book which accompanied the locket. It had leaves of coarse paper closely covered with writing in a fine, scholarly hand.
“Here is a manuscript which I believe I will read aloud,” said I. “It may be interesting to us, in view of our recent adventure, and I am sure it will tell Joe something about his father.”
As I spoke I turned over the pages to the end, and Uncle Naboth, peering over my shoulder, exclaimed:
“Why, it’s signed by John Lovelace. That must be the same Lovelace Pasha who discovered the treasure.”
“He was not a Pasha,” I returned, “although he was called so. He was not even entitled to the name of Lovelace, for here he tells us who he really was—John Herring.”
Joe was staring intently, first at the lockets and then at me. His face was pale and his dark eyes glowed with nervous excitement.
“Sit down, uncle,” I said, “and let me read what is here written.”
All now assumed attentive attitudes while I proceeded to read as follows:
“‘This shall be, to any who reads it after my death, my last testament and my final behest. For some weeks I, John Herring, have feared treachery and sudden death, although I cannot discover from what direction the danger threatens. So I am determined to explain herein my position in Egypt, for, being reserved by nature, I know that at present I am a mystery to all with whom I have come into contact in this ancient and romantic land.
“‘I am an American, a native of Galveston, and a graduate of Harvard. Soon after I left college my father, who was reputed a wealthy man, died without estate, and I was thrown upon my own resources. Being little fitted for a business career I gained scant success, except that I took a wife to share my poverty—a gentle natured woman who gave me devotion and love but was unable to further my fortunes because her nature was weaker than my own.
“‘I was led into an illegitimate venture by a friend named José Marrow, an enterprising Mexican who owned a sloop and proposed that I join him in smuggling laces and cigars from Mexico into the United States. We succeeded for a time and I made considerable money. But at length I was discovered, as was inevitable, and only saved myself from imprisonment by sudden escape. Marrow managed to get me aboard a vessel bound for Gibraltar and I was obliged to leave my wife and baby boy without the comfort of a farewell, although I sent them all the money I had and my friend Marrow promised to see they were provided for in case I was unable to send them more before it was gone. But I thank God I have been able to supply their wants, and each year I have sent a substantial remittance to them through Marrow, who by good fortune was never suspected of being implicated in the smuggling.’”
“But we never got a dollar!” broke in Joe, indignantly. “Old Marrow must have kept every penny of the money.”
Without replying to this I continued to read:
“‘Twelve years ago I made my way to Egypt, and having been a student of Egyptology in my college days, I became much interested in the excavations being made to secure ancient relics. Soon I was myself successfully engaged in this search, and I have had the good fortune to discover several important tombs of the Twenty-fourth Dynasty.
“‘This success finally led to my undertaking a queer and seemingly impossible search—for the treasure hidden by the High Priest Amana of Karnak at the time of Cambyses’ invasion. I conceived the idea that the treasure had been buried in the sands of the desert, instead of in the Sacred Lake, according to popular tradition. For several years I searched the desert around Karnak without result, and just as I was beginning to despair I came upon an inscription graven upon an angle of the ruined walls of the temple of Seti, which described—although not accurately—the place where the treasure had been hidden.
“‘I must explain that this treasure of Karnak is mainly a library of papyri recounting the history of the Egyptians during the period between the Sixth and Twelfth Dynasties. As no other records of this period exist our historians have been in the dark concerning this broad epoch, although we know from inscriptions found at Abydos and Edfu that the papyrus rolls hidden by the priest of Karnak gave a full account of that portion of Egyptian history which we have hitherto been unable to account for. So the discovery of this library means fame and riches to one fortunate enough to find it, and it is supposed that a store of gold and precious jewels was buried by the priests at the same time, which should further enrich the discoverer.
“‘I have an explorer’s and excavator’s license granted me by the Khedive under the name of John Lovelace, which name I assumed on coming to Egypt, although, as I have said, my real name is John Herring. It was necessary to cover my identity in this way to avoid extradition in case the American customs officers discovered my retreat. But my crime was not an important one and I believe it has long since been forgotten.
“‘The finding of the Karnak treasure is now merely a question of time, since I know by the secret inscription where to search for it. But I found that I needed help, and engaged a man named Van Dorn, who has at one time been a foreman at the workings of the Italian excavators in the Tombs of the Kings at Thebes, to assist me. He has now been with me nearly three years, receiving 400 piasters a month, which is equal to about 20 American dollars. He is a faithful worker, but has a covetous and dishonest mind, so that I suspect he will not be trustworthy in case I discover the treasure. Unfortunately I have been obliged to intrust him with knowledge nearly equal to my own, and the misgivings I have expressed at the beginning of this testament are mostly due to this man’s connection with my search. I fear the day when the treasure is at last unearthed.
“‘Besides Peter Van Dorn, who is to receive one thousand dollars, in addition to his wage, if the treasure is found, I have employed members of an Arab desert tribe led by one Abdul Hashim, which inhabits a village near Tel-Ambra. For his services the sheik Abdul Hashim is also to receive one thousand dollars when I find the treasure, but nothing if I am unsuccessful. My contract with the sheik, to be exact, is for 200 pounds Egyptian. My permit from the Khedive obliges me to sell the papyri to the Cairo Museum for a sum not less than the total of my expenses during the search for them, and should there be other treasure of gold or jewels, one-half belongs to the Khedive and the other half to me. This I write plainly to explain all just claims against the treasure, should I succeed in finding it.’”
Here the writing halted, but under date of January 11, 190—, it continued as follows:
“‘At last the search for the treasure of Karnak has been successful. Last night Van Dorn and I located a granite slab in which are set three bronze rings—evidence indisputable that here lies the wealth hidden centuries ago to escape the rapacity of Cambyses. To-night we are to take two Arabs of Abdul Hashim’s tribe to assist us in lifting the slab, which Van Dorn and I were unable to do alone. I am eager to see what lies beneath it. Van Dorn has been acting more suspiciously than ever this morning, and is in a state of wild excitement. Perhaps that is natural, and I do not see how he can rob me of either the honor of the discovery or of the treasure itself; but I shall watch him closely.
“‘Some months ago I wrote to José Marrow, my friend in Galveston, who now commands a trading ship, stating that I expected shortly to find a large treasure, and that if I succeeded I would send all of my share to him to be applied to the education and advancement in life of my son, who is now nearly fifteen years of age. Marrow has written me that my wife is ill and needs more money than I have sent; but I am now sure of being able to provide generously for my family.
“‘If anything happens to me to prevent my carrying out this plan, I implore whoever may come into possession of this writing as a matter of simple humanity and justice to fulfill my wishes and send my share of the proceeds of the treasure to Capt. José Marrow, at Galveston, Texas, U. S. A., to be applied by him for the sole welfare of my wife and son. And I ask his Gracious Highness, the Khedive, if by chance this should come to his notice, to order my estate disposed of as I have said above.
“‘I shall seal and otherwise protect this manuscript from prying eyes, and it may be that my fears are fanciful and unfounded, and that I shall myself have the delight of enriching my dear ones in person. I wish nothing for myself. The honor to my name as the discoverer of the historic papyri of Karnak will be a sufficient reward.
“‘John Lovelace.’”
“Humph!” said Uncle Naboth; “is that all?”
“That is all, sir,” I answered, closing the book. “But it explains a lot that we did not know, and transfers the ownership of the treasure from us to Joe.”
They all sat thoughtfully considering this for a time. Then Joe said:
“I may have a sort of claim to my father’s share, although that is not quite clear. But the half that was to go to the Khedive you people are now fully entitled to.”
“That’s a sure thing,” observed Archie, whose keen Yankee wit had grasped the situation quicker than mine did. “But let’s consider another thing, my friends. We agreed long ago that the hidden treasure of those old priests belonged by right to whoever was lucky enough to grab it. It isn’t the Khedive’s, and never has been. Lovelace—or Joe’s father—may have made a deal with the Khedive to insure his own safety, but Lovelace did nothing more than to locate the place where the treasure lay. He never got his fists on it. Neither did Abdul Hashim, nor Van Dorn, nor old Gege-Merak, although any one of ’em would have seized it if he could and held on to it like grim death to a grasshopper. The fact is, we got possession of the treasure ourselves, at considerable risk, and it belongs to us except for the liens Joe’s father had on it. In my opinion we needn’t consider the Khedive any more than the Shah of Persia or any other hungry shark.”
“You’re right,” said Uncle Naboth. “We’ll keep half an’ give Joe half. That’s fair, I guess.”
“But first,” said I, “let’s get safely away from Egypt,” and I left them and went on deck to find we had just sighted Suez.
We reached Port Said without interruption at five o’clock on a gloomy afternoon, and my father managed to get his papers signed so he could clear the port an hour later.
We had used our steam to make the journey through the Canal, and so we determined to steam for the next twelve hours, at least, in order to show our heel to Egypt as soon as possible.
Heading slowly down the harbor we were surprised at being hailed by a small government launch flying the Egyptian flag, which pressed close to our side, while an officer in uniform stood up and gesticulated wildly toward us.
“What’s wanted?” asked Captain Steele, leaning over the rail.
“Stop! Wait!” cried the fat officer, brokenly. “I must come on board.”
“Hike along, then,” called my father, but made no signal to stop the engines.
We were moving very slowly, for we had to steer clear of the numerous craft anchored in the harbor, so the launch grappled our side and Ned let down a ladder which the official clutched and swarmed overboard with surprising agility.
“Stop! Go back!” he shouted, as soon as he reached the deck. “This ship is the ship Seagull; it is arrest—you are all arrest!”
“What for?” demanded the Captain.
“I have instruction from his Excellency the Minister of Finance to stop you. You must not leave Egypt, he say. You have treasure on board—treasure contraband to the Egyptian Government.”
We stared at one another aghast. How in the world had this information come to the ears of the government? and what should we do—what could we do—in this emergency? Arrest and confiscation first, and a legal battle to follow! We shuddered even to contemplate such a difficulty.
“Crowd on full steam, Tomlinson,” said Captain Steele to the Chief Engineer, who stood beside him. The man saluted with a smile and retired to obey.
“As for you,” continued my father, turning to the officer, “I advise you to get back to your boat in double quick time. We’ve got our papers, in reg’lar fashion, and we’re free American citizens. You can’t arrest us a single minute—you or your whole blamed Egyptian outfit.”
“But I command! You are under my arrest! You are criminal!” screamed the fat man, stubbornly. “In the name of——”
“In the name of Sam Hill, throw the cuss overboard!” roared the Captain, losing all patience.
To my horror Ned promptly obeyed and the pompous official tumbled over the rail head first and disappeared with a splash in the water below.
Those in the launch shouted excitedly and let go our side to rescue their superior. He bobbed up a minute later and they grabbed him with a boat-hook and drew him, dripping and gasping, aboard their boat.
But it was too late for them to board us again. Our propeller was by this time whirling rapidly and churning the water into a creamy streak in our wake. Slowly we drew away from the government boat, which puffed after us at its best gait, the inmates shaking their fists at us threateningly but in vain. Presently we lost sight of them altogether in the gloom, for twilight was fast falling.
Out into the blue waters of the great Mediterranean we sped and I for one greeted the expanse gratefully. We had narrowly escaped a serious disaster, for if the Khedive had once gripped our hard-won treasure we should never have set eyes on it again. Also we might have found ourselves and our ship hopelessly compromised in the meshes of Egyptian law.
We headed for the southwest point of the island of Sicily, for we dared not undertake to pass the straits of Messina. This way would also bring us sooner to Gibraltar, and we determined to head our course between Tunis and Sicily, out of the beaten path of ships, and to keep away from any port until we were afloat on the broad Atlantic.
All night our engines throbbed powerfully and we sped swiftly on our course. By morning we began to feel we were out of danger, and at breakfast I decided that during the forenoon we would open the canvas sacks and take a good look at our treasure. But while we still sat at table the mate came down with a grave face to report that a man-o’-war had just been sighted and was bearing down on us.
We rushed eagerly on deck to inspect the boat through our glasses and made her out easily enough. She was a big armored cruiser, heavily armed, and seemed intent on heading us off.
“But we may be more scared than hurt,” remarked my father, calmly. “All nations have men-o’-war in these waters, and it ain’t a bit strange we should run across one. Like as not she won’t mind us at all.”
“But the course she’s headed won’t take her to any port in creation,” observed Ned, shaking his head dolefully. “She’s after the Seagull, sure enough.”
It really looked that way, and we stood with bated breath and watched the huge hulk come on. It would be folly to try to run away; still we did not pause an instant.
In an hour she was less than a mile to leeward, and soon we saw a puff of smoke followed by a shot that flew singing across our bow. At the same time she hoisted her flag peak and Ned took a look at it through his glass.
“Egypt,” he said, laconically, and my heart sank like a chunk of lead.
“The jig’s up, fellows,” I said, mournfully. “Joe, my lad, you’ve been rich for nearly a whole day. To-night you’ll be a pauper again.”
Joe grinned, but not with a pleasant expression, and turned away to vanish below deck. I was really sorry for the poor chap—and sorry for ourselves, too.
“Never mind,” said Archie, consolingly; “we’ve had a lot of fun, anyhow. The Khedive can’t rob us of that.”
As Captain Steele hesitated to obey the first shot a second one quickly followed, and this came so near to piercing the hull of his beloved Seagull that my father uttered a gruff explanation and ordered Ned to lay to. The engines were stopped and slowly we lost way and floated quietly upon the sea, which was smooth as a mill-pond. The sky was overcast with a mantle of solid gray and not a breath of wind was stirring.
Had we not been so preoccupied with other matters I am sure we would ere this have been speculating on the queer atmospheric conditions that prevailed, and wondering what they might portend.
The cruiser slowed up near by and lowered a gig, which was speedily manned. Then, being rowed with admirable precision, it shot across the space which separated us and came alongside. We threw out a boarding ladder and two officers climbed it and a minute later stood upon our deck, where they inquired courteously for the Captain. They were fine-looking fellows, middle-aged and with an air of breeding. Their duty, whatever it might be, would doubtless be performed in a gentlemanly manner.
My father advanced to announce that he commanded the Seagull and would be glad to know by what authority he was arrested on the high seas.
Said the elder of the two: “You resisted an officer of the Egyptian government in the harbor of Port Said, and escaped. We consider you still our prisoner, although you have fled into neutral waters.”
“My papers are regular, sir, and you have no right to arrest me or to fire upon my ship,” returned my father, boldly. “If you persist in your illegal and high-handed course, sir, you will make this an international affair,” he added.
“There is little danger of that, Captain Steele,” answered the officer, with a smile. “It may be we have exceeded our authority in arresting you here; but kindly permit me to state our case. In Egypt you dug up a treasure—an important treasure—which you are now carrying away in defiance of our laws. We should not have permitted your ship to clear our port, I admit, but unfortunately we did not receive the news of your misdemeanor in time to prevent by force your escape. However, we do not intend to be robbed. Our instructions from the Minister of War at Cairo are positive. We are told to recover the treasure or send your ship to the bottom of the sea—or to do both, at our discretion. The matter of legality we will not discuss. We have the power to take this treasure if you refuse to give it up cheerfully, and I assure you we will do so. That is all. I await your decision, Captain.”
Well, there was nothing for us to do but give up the treasure. If we tried to withhold it we would lose both the treasure and the Seagull. We held a short conference, however, Uncle Naboth, Ned and Archie being present besides my father and myself. Joe was also an interested partner, but was not on deck and we had no time to hunt him up.
We decided there was but one way out of our difficulty. The American government would scarcely support us in a claim for damages, under such peculiar circumstances; and this the clever Turks knew as well as we did.
The thing that most amazed us was the accuracy of their information, and we wondered who could have revealed to the government the fact that we had secured the treasure. Abdul Hashim was dead, but some of his tribe might have learned our secret and reported it to the authorities in order to obtain vengeance for their sheik’s death. Or the villagers of Laketa, who had seen the treasure in Gege-Merak’s possession, might have disclosed the information. We did not suspect Ketti for a moment.
Anyway, the mischief was out and it only remained for us to give up the treasure and make our way homeward somewhat the poorer for our unsuccessful enterprise.
“Pardon me, gentlemen, if I ask you to make haste,” said one of the Turkish officers, stepping to our side. “The simoon is threatening both our ships, so we are anxious to finish our errand and be gone.”
Indeed, the day had grown suddenly darker and the sea sighed audibly, although it was perfectly still. My father looked anxiously at his bare rigging and hurried away to give an order for additional security. Ned followed him, and Uncle Naboth turned to me and said, with almost a groan:
“Give ’em the treasure, Sam, an’ let’s be done with the blamed Egyptians forever.”
I bowed to the officer.
“If you will come below you shall have it,” I said; “but you’d better get a couple of your men to help carry it.”
He went to the side and shouted an order, and two of the men from the gig sprang on deck. I took them to my stateroom, threw open the lid of the great chest and said:
“There, gentlemen, is the entire treasure, including the rolls of papyrus. If you doubt that it is all here, you are welcome to search the ship.”
They lugged it all away and I sighed to think we had never obtained so much as one good view of the plunder we had been at so much pains to gain. The canvas sacks still bore the original seals which Van Dorn had placed upon them in the desert beside the pit.
When the last sack was in the boat they did delay to search the ship, to my extreme disgust. But their search was hasty and perfunctory, and after visiting the other cabins and peering into the forecastle and galley—as if we would keep treasure hidden in such places!—they finally got into the gig to return to their ship. I demanded a receipt, but they refused to give one, mumbling that the threatening simoon was likely to strike us any minute.
And then they cast off and rowed away toward their own vessel, making such speed as they could; but unfortunately they had delayed too long. The simoon struck us like a blow and the Seagull keeled over at a dangerous angle and trembled through every beam.
As I clung desperately to the rail my eyes followed the Turkish gig, and I saw its prow rise from the water as the whirling cloud of mingled wind and sand caught it, and dump its occupants—officers, men and all—into the now seething flood. Yes, the treasure went, too—the priceless historic papyri, the golden ornaments and splendid jewels of the great priests of Karnak—all, all were swallowed up by the waters and vanished forever from the sight of men!