The Dash for Khartoum: A Tale of the Nile Expedition by G. A. Henty (books on motivation .TXT) 📗
- Author: G. A. Henty
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This time the journey was performed on foot. The camels of the three corps and of the vast baggage train with which they had started were bleaching on the desert, and scarce enough animals remained for the service of carrying down the sick and wounded. Rupert Clinton was among them. His strength had failed rapidly, and a sort of low fever had seized him, and he had for some days before the convoy started been lying prostrate in the hospital lines. Skinner was, at his own request, carried by the same camel that conveyed Rupert, the beds being swung one on each side of it. He had protested that he was perfectly capable of marching, but the doctors would not hear of it; and when he found that he could accompany Rupert he was glad that they decided against him, as he was able to look after his friend and to keep up his spirits to a certain extent by his talk.
Several of the wounded died on their way down, among them Sir Herbert Stewart, who had survived his wound a much longer time than the surgeons had at first believed possible. One piece of news that they had learned the day before they left the neighbourhood of Metemmeh had some slight effect in cheering Rupert, a native of that town having reported that a white prisoner had been brought in on the day after the battle near the town; he had been captured by some men of the Jahrin tribe and not by the regular troops of the Mahdi; three or four days later there had been a quarrel, the Mahdi's people wanting to take the prisoner and send him up to Khartoum; his captors had objected, claiming him as their private property; but as they were only a small party he would doubtless have been taken from them by force had they not, during the night, stolen out of the town with him, taken a boat, crossed the river, and made off.
Thus there was evidence that Edgar was still alive, and Skinner endeavoured to impress upon Rupert that in every respect the intelligence was favourable.
"You see, Clinton, if your brother had been sent up to the Mahdi, the villain would have endeavoured to force him to change his religion. Edgar would never have done that, and in that case it is pretty certain that they would have chopped his head off. As it is, the chief of these Arabs who took him evidently means to keep him as a slave for himself. Of course it is not pleasant to be a slave, but it is better than having the choice between worshipping a greasy Arab or having your head chopped off, and it will give him time to learn the language, to make his plans of escape, and to carry them out."
Rupert was too weak and ill to fully enter into the question, but he did see that Edgar's position was certainly better under an Arab master than it would have been had he been sent up to Khartoum, and the knowledge that he was alive and was in[Pg 266] no immediate danger of his life did much to revive him, and enable him to bear the weary journey down to Korti better than he would otherwise have done. Once there the comparatively cool air of the hospital tents, the quiet, and the supply of every luxury soon had their effect, and in the course of three weeks he was up and about, though it would be some time before he would be fit for active duty. It was still altogether uncertain what decision would be finally arrived at at home respecting the expedition, but for the present the troops were stationed at various points on the river as far down as Dongola, and it was hoped that later on the advance against Khartoum would be recommenced.
Rupert, as soon as he was able to get about, had a long conversation with Major Kitchener, the political officer who was in charge of all communications with the natives. He related to him the circumstances of his brother's capture, and how he was a prisoner of some men belonging to the Jahrin tribe. Major Kitchener promised that his spies should make every inquiry, and held out hopes that by the offer of a large reward his captors might be induced to bring him down to the camp.
The time passed very slowly, the heat increased in intensity and became intolerable from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon. Between those hours there was nothing to do but to lie still in the mud huts that had now been erected, for it would have been well-nigh impossible to exist in the little tents that the troops had brought with them.
In the early morning and in the evening every one bathed in the Nile. Then the officers, each of whom had picked up some sort of pony from the natives, went for a ride, chased the wild dogs, or wandered gun on shoulder in search of such game as was to be found. After sunset was the only really pleasant time of day, and when the moon was up both officers and men enjoyed themselves; but on dark nights neither walking nor riding could be indulged in, so broken was the ground, and[Pg 267] there was nothing to do but to talk, sing, and vary the tedium by a game of cards.
The Guards' Camel Regiment were posted close to Dongola. Rupert, who since the death of General Stewart had no longer any staff duties, was attached to the transport corps and spent a considerable portion of his time going up or down the river in boats. He did not, therefore, see much of his friends, although he never passed Dongola without managing to make it a halting-place so as to have a few hours' talk with them.
"You have thoroughly picked up again, Clinton," Skinner said as he arrived upon one of these visits. "No one would know you to be the same fellow who was brought down to Korti with me on that wretched camel's back. I think you are very lucky to have got put on to that transport work."
"So do I, Skinner; it gives me little time to sit and think, and though it is terrifically hot in the middle of the day I can always manage to get up some sort of shelter with straw or matting of some kind, and at any rate it is cooler there than on shore."
"I wish they would give me a turn at it," Skinner said. "I cannot offer to take an oar, for although my arm is going on very well the doctor says it may be months before I can venture to use it in anything like hard work. We get up jolly horse races here once a week in the evening. The natives enter their animals. Of course we have no chance with them on our little tats, but we sometimes manage to requisition two or three horses from the Hussars. I dare not ride myself, for though the horses and ponies are both very sure-footed these natives ride in the wildest way and one might get cannoned over. Still it is an amusement to look on and make small bets and watch the natives; crowds of them come out to see it, and they get tremendously excited over it. I wish we could get up a good football match, the Guards against Dongola; it would be awful fun. As far as running goes we should not be in it, and if one of them got the ball he would carry it right through us up to[Pg 268] the goal, for they are as active and slippery as eels. Of course when it came to a good close fight we should have it our own way."
"Have you managed to get up football on board ship, Skinner?" Easton, who was stretched at full length on the ground, asked lazily.
"Not yet," Skinner laughed. "If we played at all we should have to use a cannon-ball, so that it should not be kicked over the sides; but then, unless we got iron shoes made for the purpose, we should all be laid up. But I have got a football in my cabin, and once or twice we have had games at Suakim, and very good fun it was too."
"No news, I suppose, Clinton?" Easton asked, sitting up.
Rupert shook his head. "Not a word. We hear very little of what is going on above us, and the natives who do come in lie so, there's no believing a word they say. I have been thinking that if one could trust them I would pay one of the sheiks to dress me up and stain my skin and take me with him on a wandering expedition to Khartoum and over the country on both sides of the river."
"It would be madness," Easton said. "Of course if you could talk their language perfectly it might be possible to manage it, for I suppose that with dye and false hair one might be got up to pass as far as appearances go, but not being able to speak the language would be fatal."
"Of course I should have to go as a dumb man. I was asking the surgeon the other day if there would be any great difficulty in cutting a fellow's tongue out."
"In doing what?" Easton and Skinner asked in astonishment.
"Cutting my tongue out," Rupert said seriously. "You see, if my tongue was cut out anyone could see at once that I was dumb. Of course it wouldn't be pleasant, but I believe it would be possible to get to talk after some time. If there were no other objections I should not hesitate for a moment; but unfortunately I should have to pass for deaf as well as dumb,[Pg 269] for of course I should not understand anything that was said to me. I have been thinking it over in every light, and really the only great objection I see to the plan is that though one might depend upon the chief's being faithful if he were well paid, it would be very doubtful as to his followers."
"And are you really serious in saying that you would have your tongue cut out, Clinton?"
"Of course I am serious," Rupert said, almost angrily. "What is one's tongue in comparison to one's brother? What do you think, Easton? Do you think the idea is at all feasible? I may say that for the last two months I have been working almost night and day at the language. I engaged a fellow the day I came out of hospital. He was working for one of those Greek shopkeepers. He is a native of Dongola, but has been down in Egypt and picked up a certain amount of French. He goes about with me in the boat, and we talk all day and as long as I can keep him awake at night. Of course I don't think for a moment that I could learn enough to pass as a native for at least a couple of years; but it would be of no use my going up with a party of Arabs if I could not make out what they say and learn what news they pick up, and make arrangements to get Edgar away if we find him."
"It would be a fearfully risky business, Clinton," Easton said gravely. "The betting would be tremendously against you, but I don't say that it is absolutely impossible that you should be successful. I don't think it would be necessary to carry out the idea of having your tongue cut out. As you say, a tongue is nothing in comparison to a brother, and if I thought that the loss of your tongue would ensure your success I should say nothing against it, it would be a matter for you and you only to decide; but I should think it might be managed in some other way. The fellow you would be with would naturally avoid all large encampments, and would send you off to
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