Part 24 (1/2)

”Of course. Haven't I told you that I've thought the whole thing thoroughly over already, and I'm not inclined to stick at trifles? But I may tell you that divorce is easy in these Mohammedan countries, and I shall take care to get the girl set legally free before we get away from here. You don't catch me getting mixed with bigamy.”

”But tell me. Is a Mohammedan marriage made here binding for an Englishman?”

”It's as legally binding as if the Archbishop of Canterbury tied the knot.”

”Very well,” said Kettle. ”Now let me tell you, sir, for the last time, that I don't like what you're going to do. To my mind, it's not a nice thing marrying a woman that you evidently despise, just for her money.”

Wenlock flushed. ”Look here,” he said, ”I refuse to be lectured, especially by you. Aren't you under promise to get 50 from me the moment I'm safely married? And didn't you fairly jump at the chance of fingering it.”

Captain Kettle did not hit this man who cast such an unpleasant imputation on him; he did not even let him feel the lash of his tongue in return. He merely smiled grimly, and said: ”Get down into the boat, you and your case of rifles.”

For the moment Wenlock started and hesitated. He seemed to detect something ominous in this order. But then he took a brace on his courage, and after a couple of deck hands had lowered the rifles into the dancing boat, he clambered gingerly down after them, and sat himself beside the white-robed man in the stern sheets. Kettle followed, and the boat headed off for the opening between the reefs.

The Indian Ocean swells swung beneath them, and presently were breaking on the grim stone barriers on either hand in a roar of sound. The triangular dorsal fins of a couple of sharks convoyed them in, in case of accidents; and overhead a crowd of sea-fowl screamed and swooped and circled. But none of these things interested them. The town ahead, which jerked nearer to every tug of the oars, held the eye. In it was Teresa Anderson, heiress, a personage of whom each of them had his own private conception. In it also were fanatical Arabs, whom they hoped the fear of shadowy British gunboats would deter from open piracy.

The boat pa.s.sed between a cl.u.s.ter of ragged s.h.i.+pping which swayed at the anchorage, and Wenlock might have stared with curious eyes (had he been so minded) on real dhows which had even then got real slaves ready for market in their stuffy 'tween decks. But he was gazing with a fascinated stare at the town. Over the arch of the water-gate, for which they were heading, was what at first appeared to be a frieze of small rounded b.a.l.l.s; but a nearer view resolved these into human heads, in various stages of desiccation. Evidently justice in Dunkhot was determined that the criminal who once pa.s.sed through its hands should no more tread the paths of unrighteousness.

The boat landed against a jetty of stone, and they stepped out dryshod.

Wenlock stared at the gate with its dressing of heads as though they fascinated him.

”And Teresa will have been brought up within sight of all this,” he murmured to himself, ”and will be accustomed to it. Fancy marrying a woman who has spent twenty years of her life in the neighborhood of all this savagery.”

”Strong place in its way,” said Kettle, squinting up at the bra.s.s cannon on the walls. ”Those guns up there are well kept, you can see. Of course one of our cheapest fourpenny gunboats could knock the whole shop into bricks in half an hour at three-mile range; but it's strong enough to hold out against any n.i.g.g.e.rs along the coast here, and that's all the Queen here aims at. By the way, Emir, not Queen, is what she calls herself, so the pilot tells me. I suppose she thinks that as she's doing a man's job in a man's way, she may as well take a full man's ticket.”

They pa.s.sed in through the gate, the sentries staring at them curiously, and once inside, in the full heat and smell of the narrow street beyond, Wenlock said: ”Look here, Skipper, you're resourceful, and you know these out-of-the-way places. How had we better start to find the girl?”

Kettle glanced coolly round at the grim buildings and the savage Arabs who jostled them, and said, with fine sarcasm: ”Well, sir, as there doesn't appear to be a policeman about, I should recommend you to apply at the post office.”

”I don't want to be mocked.”

”Then, if you'll take the tip from me, you'll crowd back to my steamboat as fast as you can go. You'll find it healthier.”

”I'm going on with it,” said Wenlock doggedly. ”And I ask you to earn your 50, and give me help.”

”Then, if you distinctly ask me to help you on into trouble like that, of course, the best thing to do is to go straight on to the palace.”

”Show the way, then,” said Wenlock curtly.

Kettle gave the word to the white-robed pilot, and together they set off down the narrow winding streets, with an ever-increasing train of Arabs and negroes following in their wake. Wenlock said nothing as he walked, but it was evident from the working of his face that his mind was very full. But Kettle looked about him with open interest, and thoughts in verse about this Eastern town came to him with pleasant readiness.

The royal residence was the large building encircled with gardens which they had seen from the sea, and they entered it with little formality.

There was no trouble either about obtaining an audience. The Lady Emir had, it appeared, seen the steamer's approach with her own eyes; indeed, the whole of Dunkhot was excited by such an unusual arrival; and the Head of the State was as human in her curiosity as the meanest n.i.g.g.e.r among her subjects.

The audience hall was imposing. It was bare enough, according to the rule of those heated Eastern lands, but it had an air of comfort and coolness, and in those parts where it was not severely plain, the beauty of its architecture was delicious. Armed guards to the number of some forty men were posted round the walls, and at the further end, apparently belonging to the civil population, were some dozen other men squatting on the floor. In the centre of the room was a naked wretch in chains; but sentence was hurriedly p.r.o.nounced on him, and he was hustled away as the two Englishmen entered, and they found themselves face to face with the only woman in the room, the supreme ruler of this savage South Arabian coast town.

She was seated on a raised divan, propped by cus.h.i.+ons, and in front of her was a huge water-pipe at which she occasionally took a meditative pull. She was dressed quite in Oriental fas.h.i.+on, in trousers, zouave jacket, sash, and all the rest of it; but she was unmistakably English in features, though strongly suggestive of the Boadicea. She was a large, heavily-boned woman, enormously covered with flesh, and she dandled across her knees that very unfeminine sceptre, an English cavalryman's sword. But the eye neglected these details, and was irresistibly drawn by the strongness of her face. Even Kettle was almost awed by it.

But Captain Owen Kettle-was not a man who could be kept in awe for long.

He took off his helmet, marched briskly up toward the divan, and bowed.