Part 14 (1/2)
”You should look after your own manners, then.”
”Gentlemen, gentlemen, here are the ladies!” cried Stephens, and the angry, overstrained men relapsed into a gloomy silence, pacing up and down, and jerking viciously at their moustaches. It is a very catching thing, ill-temper, for even Stephens began to be angry at their anger, and to scowl at them as they pa.s.sed him. Here they were at a crisis in their fate, with the shadow of death above them, and yet their minds were all absorbed in some personal grievance so slight that they could hardly put it into words. Misfortune brings the human spirit to a rare height, but the pendulum still swings.
But soon their attention was drawn away to more important matters. A council of war was being held beside the wells, and the two Emirs, stern and composed, were listening to a voluble report from the leader of the patrol. The prisoners noticed that, though the fierce, old man stood like a graven image, the younger Emir pa.s.sed his hand over his beard once or twice with a nervous gesture, the thin, brown fingers twitching among the long, black hair.
”I believe the Gippies are after us,” said Belmont. ”Not very far off either, to judge by the fuss they are making.”
”It looks like it. Something has scared them.”
”Now he's giving orders. What can it be? Here, Mansoor, what is the matter?”
The dragoman came running up with the light of hope s.h.i.+ning upon his brown face.
”I think they have seen something to frighten them. I believe that the soldiers are behind us. They have given the order to fill the waterskins, and be ready for a start when the darkness comes. But I am ordered to gather you together, for the Moolah is coming to convert you all. I have already told him that you are all very much inclined to think the same with him.”
How far Mansoor may have gone with his a.s.surances may never be known, but the Mussulman preacher came walking towards them at this moment with a paternal and contented smile upon his face, as one who has a pleasant and easy task before him. He was a one-eyed man, with a fringe of grizzled beard and a face which was fat, but which looked as if it had once been fatter, for it was marked with many folds and creases. He had a green turban upon his head, which marked him as a Mecca pilgrim. In one hand he carried a small brown carpet, and in the other a parchment copy of the Koran. Laying his carpet upon the ground, he motioned Mansoor to his side, and then gave a circular sweep of his arm to signify that the prisoners should gather round him, and a downward wave which meant that they should be seated. So they grouped themselves round him, sitting on the short green sward under the palm-tree, these seven forlorn representatives of an alien creed, and in the midst of them sat the fat little preacher, his one eye dancing from face to face as he expounded the principles of his newer, cruder, and more earnest faith.
They listened attentively and nodded their heads as Mansoor translated the exhortation, and with each sign of their acquiescence the Moolah became more amiable in his manner and more affectionate in his speech.
”For why should you die, my sweet lambs, when all that is asked of you is that you should set aside that which will carry you to everlasting Gehenna, and accept the law of Allah as written by His prophet, which will a.s.suredly bring you unimaginable joys, as is promised in the Book of the Camel? For what says the chosen one?”--and he broke away into one of those dogmatic texts which pa.s.s in every creed as an argument.
”Besides, is it not clear that G.o.d is with us, since from the beginning, when we had but sticks against the rifles of the Turks, victory has always been with us? Have we not taken El Obeid, and taken Khartoum, and destroyed Hicks and slain Gordon, and prevailed against every one who has come against us? How, then, can it be said that the blessing of Allah does not rest upon us?”
The Colonel had been looking about him during the long exhortation of the Moolah, and he had observed that the Dervishes were cleaning their guns, counting their cartridges, and making all the preparations of men who expected that they might soon be called upon to fight. The two Emirs were conferring together with grave faces, and the leader of the patrol pointed, as he spoke to them, in the direction of Egypt. It was evident that there was at least a chance of a rescue if they could only keep things going for a few more hours. The camels were not recovered yet from their long march, and the pursuers, if they were indeed close behind, were almost certain to overtake them.
”For G.o.d's sake, Fardet, try and keep him in play,” said he. ”I believe we have a chance if we can only keep the ball rolling for another hour or so.”
But a Frenchman's wounded dignity is not so easily appeased. Monsieur Fardet sat moodily with his back against the palm-tree, and his black brows drawn down. He said nothing, but he still pulled at his thick, strong moustache.
”Come on, Fardet! We depend upon you,” said Belmont.
”Let Colonel Cochrane do it,” the Frenchman answered, snappishly. ”He takes too much upon himself, this Colonel Cochrane.”
”There! there!” said Belmont, soothingly, as if he were speaking to a fractious child. ”I am quite sure that the Colonel will express his regret at what has happened, and will acknowledge that he was in the wrong----”
”I'll do nothing of the sort,” snapped the Colonel.
”Besides, that is merely a personal quarrel,” Belmont continued, hastily. ”It is for the good of the whole party that we wish you to speak with the Moolah, because we all feel that you are the best man for the job.”
But the Frenchman only shrugged his shoulders and relapsed into a deeper gloom.
The Moolah looked from one to the other, and the kindly expression began to fade away from his large, baggy face. His mouth drew down at the corners, and became hard and severe.
”Have these infidels been playing with us, then?” said he to the dragoman. ”Why is it that they talk among themselves and have nothing to say to me?”
”He is getting impatient about it,” said Cochrane. ”Perhaps I had better do what I can, Belmont, since this d.a.m.ned fellow has left us in the lurch.”
But the ready wit of a woman saved the situation.
”I am sure, Monsieur Fardet,” said Mrs. Belmont, ”that you, who are a Frenchman, and therefore a man of gallantry and honour, would not permit your own wounded feelings to interfere with the fulfilment of your promise and your duty towards three helpless ladies.”
Fardet was on his feet in an instant, with his hand over his heart.