On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris

"Not nerves, I hope!" came the cheerful answer. "But it's rather uncanny work, ain't it? I could have sworn just now that a fellow stood on the edge of an island into which we were running, and I snapped my fingers; but the way of the boat carried us right on to the very point where he was standing, and right over it. He had gone though."

"Like a nasty nightmare!" said Phil. "Let's go ahead; it's cold and chilly here, and takes the courage out of a fellow."

It was perhaps an hour later, when they had slowly crept forward towards the Turkish position, and when they had caught sight of a glow in the distance – the glow of camp-fires – over the position occupied by the enemy, that the bellum suddenly came to an abrupt halt, grinding noisily upon the edge of the desert.

"Hard ground," said Geoff. "Looks as though we'd come to the edge of the marsh land, and – and – I've thought it for some while, the sky over there shows the reflection from camp-fires. We're near them, Phil."

"Then let's get nearer. But how are we to find this bellum again, supposing we leave it?"

That set them cogitating for a few moments while they stepped ashore, followed by Esbul, and, lifting the bellum clear of the water, carried her into a bank of reeds which could be heard rustling beside them.

"How to find her, that's it!" said Geoff, while the respectful Esbul listened.

"My master," he said of a sudden, for thanks to Major Douglas's tuition the man could speak English tolerably well. "My master, perhaps were we to return from the Turkish camp before the dawn breaks these reeds would aid us. There may be other banks; but, on the other hand, there may be no more, and thus we should be aided."

"In any case we've got to chance it," said Geoff lightly. "Now, come along, and let's make direct for the glow of those camp-fires."

Stealing away from the place where they had hidden their boat, the three crept cautiously but swiftly towards the enemy's position, and, ascending slowly as they went, soon gained a ridge, from which they were able to look right down into the camp where the Turkish soldiers were concentrated. Lying flat on their faces, they were busily engaged in taking full stock of what they saw, when a sudden exclamation came from Esbul.

"Excellency, something behind us!" he whispered.

"Stop! There's someone coming up from the Turkish camp," muttered Philip, making a dive for his revolver.

Glancing swiftly in both directions, Geoff was on the point of leading his comrades to one side, so as to escape the danger of discovery which seemed to threaten them, when shouts resounded all about them, and in a trice figures dashed up from every direction, surrounding the three, and throwing themselves upon Geoff and his friends with a swiftness that was dramatic.

CHAPTER XIV

Captured by the Enemy

It was with a shout of astonishment that Geoff realized that he and Philip and Esbul were discovered. Giving a loud shout of warning, he flung himself against a figure bounding towards him, and, having no time to seize his revolver, struck out wildly in the darkness, and the blow he gave, delivered with all the force of which he was capable, meeting with no greater resistance than the air, for it shot past the ear of the individual at whom it was aimed, caused him to lose his balance and to topple over.

"Ha! Infidel dog!"

The man was down upon him in a moment, and, seizing Geoff's throat, pinned him to the ground, while, within an instant almost, our hero felt the prick of the sharp-pointed dagger with which the man threatened to transfix him. The sudden pain it caused sent a sickly chill all over his body, and then stimulated him to action.

"Get off!" he roared, and, jerking himself over, swiftly had the man beneath him. Then, holding the arm which wielded the weapon, he dealt the man a furious blow between the eyes, and, shaking himself free, leapt to the assistance of Philip.

"Coming!" he shouted, hearing his chum gasp and seeing his figure indistinctly in the darkness. And then he went down again, for one of the band of Turks who had crept so silently towards the three figures watching their camp, leapt upon his shoulders and bore him, nose down, to the sand.

"Infidel dog!" he heard again hissed into his ear. "Move, and I strike life out of you. Move, utter a word, and I slit your throat from ear to ear."

It was not very pleasant; indeed, a sharp stab of pain in the region of his shoulder-blade sent another chill down Geoff's spine, and, together with the increased weight which now held him so firmly to the sand, helped to discourage further efforts. He was cornered, he knew; common sense told him that there were many of the enemy about, that quite half a dozen of them were already seated upon his body, his legs, and his arms, that further resistance was useless, was madness in fact, and could end in only one way – in sudden death for himself and Philip and Esbul.

"Right!" he gasped, spluttering and blowing the sand out of his mouth. "We surrender!"

"Ah! the dog speaks Turkish, eh! Pull him to his feet; let us see him."

It was another voice that spoke, the voice of a Turkish officer, and at once those six lusty individuals who had thrown themselves on Geoff, and who had almost squeezed the life out of him, jerked him to his feet and held him in an erect position. Had they not done so, indeed, he would have stumbled and fallen, for, though the contest had been but a short one, the struggle, whilst it lasted, had been terrific: the efforts he had made to throw off those men, his kicks and plunges, and the blows he had endeavoured to aim had taken it out of Geoff in the most startling manner. He was gasping for breath now, sweat was pouring from his face, whilst his knees shook and refused to support him.

"So, infidel dog, you are one of the British who have dared to invade our country!"

A dusky figure seemed to rise up in front of Geoff, and, approaching quite close to him, thrust a heavily-moustached face close to his and peered at him in the darkness. So close indeed was the man that his breath blew on Geoff's face, and, acting as a tonic as it were, almost stimulated him to further action. But again discretion, common sense, told him that to renew the struggle would be futile. "Better wait till another time," he told himself, gasping in the face of the Turkish officer – spluttering, indeed, for still sand remained in his mouth, whilst his nostrils were tickled with the same material. "Better wait for a while and try our chances in a different manner. There's Philip!"

Men were approaching from a point but a few feet away, their figures standing out against the reflection of the camp-fires dotting the Turkish position, and in amongst them was Geoff's chum, held firmly by the arms, his head pushed forward by a brawny individual who gripped the nape of his neck, and his legs already encumbered by a rope which had been passed loosely round them.

"So, a British officer. Ah!"

"A British officer. Yes!" Geoff admitted between his gasps.

"And one who speaks Turkish, eh?" the man who accosted him demanded.

"That is so."

"Then how?" asked the Turkish officer. "Where did you learn to speak our tongue? You are British, you say, and few there are of that nation who speak our language. Then how? Where? When did you learn it?"

"One moment; let me sit down for a while," said Geoff, panting so heavily that he could hardly make the request. "In a little while I will answer any reasonable question that you may put before me, and in the meantime you need have little fear; for see, there are perhaps twenty or thirty men here to support you."

A grim, harsh chuckle came from the Turkish officer, and yet a laugh which was not altogether disagreeable. If he had been a German officer, no doubt he would have stormed and raved, and might even have suggested shooting his prisoners on the spot, so as to get rid of them; but, being a Turk – and Turkish soldiers, whether they be officers or fighting-men, have ever proved themselves to be possessed of gentlemanly feelings – and being moreover satisfied that the three prisoners he had captured were completely in his hands, this Turk was by no means ill-pleased, was, in fact, in quite a genial humour, and, if the truth be told, rather curious as to the prisoner who spoke his language.

"Sit down," he said. "Now give me your word that you will not attempt to escape, and I'll tell my men to stand away and to give you breathing-space."

Seating himself upon the sand, in fact helped in the movement by the man who had been holding him, Geoff remained for a while panting heavily, while his guard, at a sharp order from the Turkish officer, stepped aside and remained at some distance. Then Philip and Esbul were brought along by the men who had captured them, and were allowed to seat themselves beside him.

"Now," said the Turkish officer, after a while, when he was satisfied that his prisoners were rested, "your promise. Say that you will make no attempt at escape, and you shall march back to camp at my side as friends, as you will, not as prisoners; only, when you arrive there, it will be my duty to hand you over to the guard, and you must take the consequences of your visit here this evening."

"We promise!" Geoff told him promptly.

"Then that is sufficient. Listen, my friend! Though I command a detachment of Turkish troops down in this part of the world – this terrible quarter, where there is nothing but sand and marsh and water – yet I am from Constantinople, and, unlike many other Turks, I have travelled somewhat. Thus it happens to have been my fortune to have met many peoples, and amongst them men of your country. Always I have heard that an Englishman's word is his bond. My friend, you have given your word, and that is quite sufficient."

He showed his friendly spirit within a moment, for, diving a hand into a pocket of his tunic, the officer produced a cigarette-case, and handed it in turn to each of his prisoners; and then, as they sat on there, on the sandy ridge above the twinkling camp-fires dotting the hollow below them, this Turk became quite communicative, as friendly as one could wish, chatted with Geoff as if he were an old friend, one with whom he was well acquainted.

"Come!" he said encouragingly. "Be not so close, be as frank and as friendly as I am, for let me tell you that I am more than interested in you, for, as I said before, how many of your nation are there who can speak our language? And you, you speak it as a native almost – fluently, glibly, with the tone and accent of an educated gentleman. That you are an officer I know, indeed I knew it from the moment of your capture. Now tell me how it came about that you learnt our tongue."

There was no doubt about his earnestness, nor about the fact that his curiosity was purely friendly; quite frankly, therefore, withholding nothing, Geoff told him how he had once, not so very long ago, visited Mesopotamia, and how his travels had taken him as far as Constantinople.

"I have a guardian," he told the Turkish officer, "a British officer, one who for many years has taken the place of my dead father. He it was who brought me to this country, who led me by the Tigris to Bagdad, and with whom I sat in many an Arab camp making friends with the natives."

"Wait! A British officer who led you to Bagdad! Who lived as a friend with Arabs! But surely," said the Turk, "there is but one British officer who could have done that, one with whom I am well acquainted. Had it been a German now, there would be a host of them, though it is little friends they are of the Arabs inhabiting these deserts; but this man, listen my friend, I will give you his name – Douglas Pasha, eh?"

"The same," Geoff admitted.

There was a long pause after that while the Turk slowly puffed at his cigarette, the glowing end showing his features for a few brief seconds, and then dying down between the puffs till it was only possible to make out the dull outline of his figure. No doubt he was thinking hard, thinking furiously, for a Turk, while he puffed clouds of smoke into the dusk around him.

"So," he said at last, giving vent to a low-pitched whistle, "you are Douglas Pasha's ward – and Douglas Pasha is an old friend of mine, one to whom I am much beholden. Well, it is the fortune of war, my friend. The fortune, or shall we say for a moment, while there are none to overhear us, yes, the misfortune? For see the dilemma in which I am placed. As a loyal Turk I have taken steps to make you a captive, you, who were discovered in the act of watching our camp and making a reconnaissance. As a loyal Turk I have made captive the ward of one whom I admit my friend, one whom I would go far to help, and whose esteem is of value to me. Yet, see the dilemma in which I am placed. This I have done as a loyal man, and one who does his utmost for his country; though all the while I know that it is not my country for which I fight, but that Young Turk Party which, alas! controls its destiny. Listen! There are none to hear us, and therefore I can speak the words. Had the Sultan been able to control the affairs of our nation, there would have been no war with Russia, no war with our ancient friends the British, no alliance with these hated Germans. There! I have said enough. Let us walk as friends as far as our Head-quarters, and after that, well after that you pass out of my hands, though Tewfic Pasha will think of you kindly, and maybe might help you on some occasion."

Truly the adventure which had befallen Geoff and Philip and Esbul was turning out to be as strange as it had been sudden and unexpected; for here, captives in the hands of the enemy, they were yet friends already with at least one of them, while Geoff had discovered in this Turkish officer one who in other times would have gone out of his way to be helpful, considerate, and friendly. But Turkey was at war with Britain, and whatever Tewfic Pasha's private feelings may have been towards our country he had a duty to perform, like every other loyal man; and Geoff, realizing that fact, honoured him the more when at length he gave a sharp order and called his men about them.

"You'll fall in round the prisoners, allowing them to march freely," he said. "When we reach the centre of the camp two of you will attach yourselves to each of these three men, and will escort them to Head-quarters. But listen, ye dogs! No violence, no brutal treatment, for these young men have behaved most gallantly, have fought for their freedom, and now, having lost to us, who are the more numerous, are content with their lot, are cheerful, and are facing the future with courage."

"After all, things might have been worse," chirped Philip, as the trio marched along in the centre of their escort, the officer now at the head of his men. "Quarter of an hour ago I thought my last moment had come, particularly when one of these fellows round us indicated to me in the most unpleasant manner that he was armed with a knife, and was longing to push it through me. Ugh!"

He gave vent to an exaggerated grunt of horror, which set Geoff giggling, for it reminded him of his own feelings, of that cold shiver which had gone down his spine, of the extraordinary indescribable shudder which had shaken him from head to foot, and which, courageous though he hoped he had been, had set his limbs trembling.

"Jolly nasty!" he said, sympathizing with his chum immediately. "I had the same sort of experience, and it isn't nice, particularly on a dark night, and when it comes so unexpectedly. But we've been wonderfully lucky when you come to think of it – though it's awfully unfortunate that we should have been captured – for this officer in charge of the party actually knows Major Douglas, and if it weren't war-time I believe he would himself see us to a place of safety."

"And might even now look the other way if there was a chance of our escaping," suggested Phil.

"No, decidedly no!" Geoff answered. "He's loyal to the core, this Turkish officer, unlike so many of them."

"Then what's to be done?" asked Phil. "You don't mean to tell me that you are going to allow yourself to be taken as a prisoner, say, into the interior of the country, and give up all hope of joining the other fellows?"

Geoff laughed, a gruff, determined sort of laugh, which sounded rather impressive in the darkness. There was a note of satire in it too, a note seldom indulged in by our hero.

"Sorry that's the impression you've got of me after all these months," he told Philip curtly. "Sorry you think I'm so soft, so lacking in spirit, as to give up just because I am captured. What about that trip we proposed which was to carry us to Bagdad, and was to allow us to make a search for Major Douglas?"

A sudden exclamation escaped from Philip's lips, and, diving at Geoff's arm, he gripped the wrist with a suddenness which was almost disconcerting:

"And – and, why not?" he said in a hoarse whisper, "why not? Aren't we now away from the expedition, aren't we more in the heart of Mesopotamia than ever we were before? Just think for a moment, and suppose you had gone off on that expedition that you've been planning, that you've been dreaming about every day and night since that letter came from your guardian. Supposing you'd slipped away from the British camp and had got behind the enemy's lines: where's the difference?"

Geoff brought his eloquence and enthusiasm to a somewhat sudden end by giving him a disagreeable reminder.

"Difference! Difference!" he remarked caustically. "Only this, that whereas, in that case, we should be behind their lines, but free; in this, we are in the midst of their lines, not free, but captives."

But you could not damp Phil's ardour or his spirits however much cold water you threw upon them. He gurgled for a while, gasped rather loudly, and took to whistling. Then, when they had covered perhaps a hundred yards, he again opened the subject; indeed, he proceeded with the discussion as though it had never been broken off, as if there had been no such thing as an interruption.

"Well," he said testily. "Well, who wants to be told that sort of thing? Don't I know just as well as you do that the case ain't quite the same, that we are prisoners and in the enemy's lines, instead of being free and behind them? But it's near enough, surely. A chap has only got to escape from these fellows who have bagged us, and – and – and there you are!"

"And – and – there you are!" laughed Geoff, catching his enthusiasm instantly; indeed, our hero had already been thinking furiously as to how he and his friends were to circumvent this difficult position in which they found themselves, and to shake off the hold which the Turks had cast upon them. And why, as Philip said, if only they could make their escape, seeing that they would then presumably be behind the lines of the enemy, why should they not turn their faces towards Bagdad, and go on with the rescue of Douglas Pasha.

"Jingo! We'll do it," he told his friend.

"You – you – you consent? You think it's possible?" asked Phil, his voice eager, his face lit up – though, to be sure, it could not be seen because of the darkness.

"Hush! We're in the centre of the camp, and the guard is closing in on us," Geoff warned him. "But, just a last word in case we are separated, I am going to do my best to escape, and if I succeed, and can get you and Esbul free also, I am off for Bagdad."

"Done, with you! Shake hands on it!" cried Phil, gripping his chum's palm and shaking it warmly. "Ripping! The thought of such an expedition makes up for this ghastly business; perhaps to-night we'll do it, perhaps to-morrow, and – and – well, you can rely on me standing by you, old fellow. If they separate us, and the chance comes to me to slip my cable, you know, don't you, Geoff, that I'll stand by until I get you and Esbul out, so as to complete the party?"

There was no time for Geoff to make a reply, no time to thank his chum for an expression of loyalty which was just like him, for the guard had already closed in, men were gripping their arms on either side, while, despite the caution of Tewfic Pasha, one at least of the men showed little love for the captives.

"Dog," he whispered in Geoff's ear, "you infidel who speak our language, be silent, or I will screw the head from your body."

"Unpleasant fellow," muttered Geoff, yet smiling serenely, for he knew well enough that a call to Tewfic Pasha would relieve him of this threatening fellow's attentions. "Ah! That appears to be the Turkish Head-quarters."

It was lighter now that they had arrived at what appeared to be the centre of the Turkish concentration; for numerous camp-fires were dotted about the place, lighting up the surroundings with their reflection, and indeed making the outer darkness even denser, even more impenetrable. There loomed up now in front of them a row of tents, one larger than the others, over which a flag could be heard fluttering in the breeze, though its folds could not be seen so easily. There were lamps burning in the tent, and towards it the guard escorted their prisoners.

"Halt!" commanded Tewfic Pasha, and then entered the tent.

"Master," whispered Esbul at that moment, taking advantage of the fact that the guard had released their grip of their prisoners, and were now standing at attention dressed in two lines, one in front and one behind their captives. "Master, let me say a word in your ear while there is time. Listen! I am an Armenian."

It was a fact of which Geoff was thoroughly well aware, and yet a fact the seriousness of which had not struck him till that moment.

"An Armenian! An Armenian, yes!" he said, speaking his thoughts in a whisper; "and the Turks have no love for that nation."

"Love, Excellency!" exclaimed Esbul, with a bitterness which was strange to him. "Love, my master! Of a truth, where the Armenian race is concerned, the Turk has nothing but bitterness and hatred to show. You have heard maybe of their doings in past years?"

"I have," Geoff said consolingly.

"How these Turkish fiends massacred our people, how they hate us perhaps because we are Christians, and how they have done their utmost to exterminate us, to grind us under their heel, to rid this land of Turkey of us."

"I have heard the tale," Geoff told him sadly enough, for for many years the massacre of unfortunate and helpless Armenians in Turkey had been carried out by the Sultan's people, and had more than once roused the bitter anger of peoples in Europe. Yet who could control the Turk in the centre of his own country? What nation could prevent the Sultan from wreaking his fiendish hate upon these people? And now that this gigantic war had broken out, and Turkey had declared herself in favour of the Germans, who could prevent the agents of the Kaiser, those sinister individuals, from persuading the Young Turk Party once more to commence their hideous work in the neighbourhood of Erzerum and the Caucasus Mountains? Already, urged on by those satellites of the Kaiser – those ruthless individuals, possessed of as little mercy as their fellows in Europe – massacres of the Armenians had once again begun, and ere they were finished were to account for almost a million of these miserable, unfortunate individuals. No wonder Esbul was trembling – Esbul, the Armenian, the faithful servant who had followed Douglas Pasha into the heart of Mesopotamia, and who had borne that message to our hero.

"Master," he said again, making violent efforts to control his words, "for you, who are a prisoner, and for your comrade, things may be well enough, for at heart the Turk is kindly disposed, and thinks well of the British, but for me, an Armenian, what is there to hope for?"

"What indeed?" Geoff sighed, when he grasped the full import of what Esbul had been saying. For he knew well enough the hardships of the Armenian race, and was well acquainted with the fact that the Turks hated, despised, and tortured them. Were, then, these captors of theirs likely to treat Esbul leniently once they discovered that one of the trio they had laid their hands on was an Armenian? Would they treat him as an honoured captive? – as Geoff hoped would be the case with Philip and himself. Or would they drag him aside, stand him out in the open, and shoot him like a dog? – the treatment they were meting out to his brothers.

"Listen!" he told him. "Listen, Esbul; you must go, you must go now; you must slip away; you must never let them see you! Wait! I will fall to the ground and feign illness, which will create a disturbance. Go then, take advantage of the opportunity; and, later, when you are free, and perhaps have reached Bagdad, look out for me and my comrade, and search for the whereabouts of Douglas Pasha."

He pressed the hand of the faithful fellow, and then, coughing violently, suddenly fell to the ground and writhed there, rolling from side to side, groaning and creating as much noise and fuss as was possible. At once Philip leapt to his side, kneeling on the ground and bending over him.

"What's the matter?" he asked distractedly, for he was thoroughly startled by this strange occurrence.

"Shut up!" Geoff told him. "I'm shamming. I'll tell you why later."

"What ails the dog? Come, what has happened to him?"

Turks in the rear rank, drawn up behind the captives and nearest to them, had darted forward almost at once as Geoff fell to the ground, and now one of them bent over him and gripped him by the shoulder, while he bawled into his ear. A second later a figure darted from the tent – the figure of Tewfic Pasha – and, pushing men of the front rank aside unceremoniously, came upon the scene.

"Hold your tongue!" he commanded the man shouting at Geoff. "What has happened? Ah! This officer is ill. Carry him into the tent, two of you idle fellows."

Picking their burden up, the men bore him into the tent, illuminated by swinging oil-lamps, while Philip followed unbidden.

"And the third?" asked Tewfic Pasha, casting his eyes upon Geoff and Philip, and seeing them clearly for the first time since he and his men had laid hold of them. "The third, that other fellow; where is he?"

Yes, where? There was a hue and cry outside: men were rushing to and fro, shouting and bellowing at one another, while a couple of the guard were speeding across the camp calling a warning to the sentries. For Esbul had disappeared. He had been at Geoff's side just a second before he tumbled, and those men in the rear rank of the Turkish guard could have sworn that he had knelt beside his comrade and had bent over him; and yet – and yet the darkness had swallowed him up; he had gone, slipped away like a will-o'-the-wisp, and no one had caught sight of him. Meanwhile Geoff had made a reasonably rapid recovery, and stood now beside Philip, swaying just a little – for he had to act the part – his face flushed just a trifle after his exertions, his breath coming in panting grunts.

"I'm sorry," he told Tewfic Pasha; "but the thing is over now; merely a spasm, a sudden dizziness, perhaps produced by those lusty fellows of yours who sat so heavily on me."

"And the promise you made has been kept," Tewfic smiled back at him, indeed his eyes twinkled – twinkled knowingly. "You gave me your word that you and your comrades would march towards this spot without attempting an escape, and when my guards laid their hands on you, within sight of this tent, and mar