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

"Do!" There was an ominous ring about the answer. "Do!" repeated Geoff sternly; "can you ask that question, Philip? Now, listen: you'll cut this prisoner loose, you'll leave von Hildemaller to me. That's understood?"

"Distinctly."

"Then, silence; at any moment the door may open."

Yet minutes dragged along, slow, tense minutes, during which they waited for the reappearance of the German; waited, indeed, until they began to fear lest he would never return, lest he had avoided them; to fear that he had guessed what was happening, had suspected the three men who had accompanied him upon this journey, and was sheltering himself within the prison. So long did he remain, in fact, that Philip at length felt positive that the cunning Teuton had indeed outwitted them; while Geoff, a prey to all sorts of fears, was positively trembling with excitement. And then, of a sudden, when they had almost given up hope, when it seemed that all their plans had failed, and that their efforts had resulted in nothing, steps were heard within the prison – heavy steps – approaching the door, and at length the latter opened. A minute later more steps reached their ears, the heavy blowing of an individual, his panting in fact, followed by the appearance of von Hildemaller, his ponderous figure almost hidden in the darkness, yet sufficiently illuminated by the rays from some very distant lamp to leave no doubt of his coming.

Doubt indeed! No illumination was needed where this German was concerned, for even if his figure were invisible the man's heavy breathing, his ponderous footsteps were sufficient indication of his presence.

"Good – good – good!" Geoff heard him saying, chuckling in fact. "He is tied hand and foot, this fellow. What a thing it is to be a friend of the Governor of Bagdad. A friend indeed! He, he! One who can take him by the elbow, as it were, can whisper things into his ear, and can force him to do one's bidding. Bring the man along and throw him into the chaise.

"But – but – wait, go gently, for the vehicle is old and rickety enough. In with him."

Men were struggling down the steps of the prison, four men at least, who carried a bundle between them, which they bore towards the carriage. Lifting their burden with some difficulty, they pushed it on to the seat, thrust it well to one side, and then retreated hastily, as if they were ashamed of what they had been doing. A second later, indeed, the door of the prison was banged to, those distant rays of light were cut off, and the German and his three hirelings and the bundle in the carriage were left alone in the darkness, at liberty at last to depart on their journey.

"Good! Better than ever! Things could not have gone more smoothly," Geoff heard von Hildemaller chuckling again, as he waddled towards the chaise, and, mounting into it, depressed its springs considerably. He sat himself down with a bump beside the bundle resting there, and gave a peremptory order to the driver: "Move on," he panted; "drive fast, but pull up as we arranged when you have covered the distance. Bah! How that note from the Governor cowed the Turk in command of the prison. When this fellow beside me realized what was before him, I saw him squirm; he would have thrown himself upon me had he been able, and had his guards not surrounded him; but he's here – here – beside me, and as helpless as a log, as near his end as ever a man was."

The wretch gave vent to a hideous, wheezy chuckle, a chuckle which made Geoff's blood boil and his ears tingle as he listened; for by then he was riding quite close to the chaise, within two feet of that silent bundle, within easy hearing of the German, so near in fact was he that a moment later he heard, rather than saw, the bundle moving, wriggling upon the seat on which it had been deposited, and heard an instant growl escape the German.

"Ach! So you are alife, are you?" von Hildemaller hissed into the ear of his wretched prisoner. "So, Douglas Pasha, I haff you at last, securely, away from interference of the Turks, my prisoner, to do with as I will. Now, listen awhile, for I haff a few sweet words to say to you; and you, Douglas Pasha, haff little time on this earth in which to hear them."

The bundle stirred again, and, bending low, Geoff heard inarticulate sounds coming from it, sounds which suggested that the prisoner was securely gagged, and, indeed, was almost fighting for his breath. As he bent, too, he was so near to von Hildemaller that he could almost have touched the ruffian, and found it a hard task indeed to keep his hands off him; for by now every drop of blood in Geoff's manly body was boiling with rage, and he was trembling with eagerness for the moment to arrive when he might release his guardian. And then von Hildemaller's voice was heard again, subdued and venomous, his words coming in an angry hiss through those extensive lips of his, which had deceived so many people.

"Listen, Douglas Pasha," he began again; "you wonder why I, a German, should hate you so, should track you down, should haff you here beside me and be carrying you away from your prison for one purpose only, that purpose to rid the world of you! Well, I will explain. For you, personally, I haff no great objection, except that you are an Englishman. But you are an obstacle; for years you haff been an obstacle in my path – in the path of Germany. But for you the aims of my Emperor would haff been prosecuted with far greater success amongst these people, and Germany would haff obtained a greater hold over the Turks and their country. It was you who put a stop to that, who set our efforts at naught, who balked every move I made, and defeated us on every side. In those days before the war I did my best to get rid of you, and when the war came I again did my best to rid the country of a man who was in every sense an enemy to Germany. Yet again you outwitted me, till a day arrived when I was able to arrange for your capture. Even then you were too strong for me, you and your friends; they protected you, saved you, and kept you in security until this very moment. And meanwhile, having been beaten by you and your friends in every effort, I was beaten also by that ward of yours – one Geoffrey Keith – who came to this country."

The bundle moved again, the rickety, rattling chaise creaked and swayed as the prisoner struggled. A stifled growl came from the bundle, and then there was silence.

"Yes, Geoffrey Keith and another came to this country – your ward and a friend of his came – and were captured and thrown into prison. Now listen still further, Douglas Pasha. For the moment you were secure, and I, who had a grudge against you and aimed at your death, could find no other means of injuring you than through these two young fellows. I made plans to get them safely into my hands, when, seeing that they are enemies of Germany, I should have made an end of them; but they defeated me just as you had done, defeated me entirely. That left you alone to deal with, till the time arrives when those two are again captured. It is but a matter of two or three days since they broke loose from their prison, and surely within a little while the Turks will haff them, and I too shall be able to reward them for the trick they haff played upon me. Fear not, Douglas Pasha! For your ward shall come to the same end as you in a little time. Before the week is passed, perhaps, he may be riding in this chaise, tied into a helpless bundle just as you are, jogging on to his death. You understand? To his death, just as you are jogging now. You understand, Douglas Pasha?"

The voice was raised by then to a shrill shriek, while the German was trembling with passion – trembling with triumph and with anticipation of the moment so closely approaching. Little wonder that Geoff, riding so close, could hardly remain on his pony, that the perspiration was dropping from his forehead, and that his breath was coming in little gasps. Those minutes which passed, as they sauntered along the dusty road, were a purgatory, were almost insupportable, and were indescribably long. But at length, having by then driven perhaps a mile from the prison, Esbul suddenly pulled up his horse, and the whole party came to a halt at the side of the road, just as the German had commanded.

"And now," called von Hildemaller, struggling from the chaise to the road, "lift the ruffian out, pull the gag out of his mouth, and slit his throat."

Geoff slid from his pony almost before the chaise had come to a rest, and, dropping his reins, stepped swiftly up beside the German. Esbul clambered from the driving-seat of the carriage and leaned over the bundle which von Hildemaller had secured from the prison, while Philip, himself a prey to tremendous excitement, dismounted, and ran forward.

"Cut the Major loose," Geoff shouted; "you can leave this murdering rascal to me entirely."

There were sounds of scuffling in the darkness, clouds of choking dust arose and smothered every member of the party, while a scream escaped from the throat of one of them – a scream of terror. Then silence followed, and within a few seconds a sound of a man struggling, heavy breathing, and then a dull thud.

Geoff scrambled into the chaise and sat beside the bundle – now released – and, stretching out one of those strong hands of his, gripped the hand of Douglas Pasha. Esbul clambered into the driving-seat again, while Philip mounted his pony, and, taking the reins of the other, moved to the back of the carriage.

"Go on!" commanded Geoff huskily; "drive on to the main road, and then towards Bagdad."

A moment later he had turned towards the prisoner whom they had rescued, still gripping his hand, and hurriedly explained matters to him. The meeting in the carriage was indeed a most dramatic affair, so unexpected, indeed, that Douglas Pasha was at first almost speechless, and then almost hysterical after the trying experience he had passed through. As for Esbul, Geoff, and Philip, they were so elated, so excited, and so delighted at what had happened that they babbled like children, and could scarcely speak coherently. Indeed it was the Major who regained his self-possession first, and began to cross-examine his rescuers; and at last he asked a final question:

"This German – this von Hildemaller," he asked; "what happened to him?"

"Yes, what happened to him?" Philip chimed in eagerly, as he clattered along beside the carriage.

"Don't ask," replied Geoff, with a curtness which was unusual in him. "He's dead. I killed him."

And dead von Hildemaller was. Huddled in a heap in the dust, in the midst of the road behind, at the very spot where he had intended to murder Douglas Pasha. Retribution had indeed found this odious, scheming, cunning agent of the Kaiser, at the very moment when he imagined that triumph was coming, and who can doubt that that retribution was earned? For never before was there such a villain.

We have little else to relate with regard to the fortunes of Geoff and his friends and of Douglas Pasha. Reaching Bagdad at earliest dawn, and contriving to smuggle themselves into the city, they found safe quarters with Benshi. Later, they made their way from the city to a neighbouring tribe of Arabs whom the Major knew, and who at once befriended him. Then by easy stages they crossed the desert towards Kut-el-Amara, hoping there to join the British expedition.

As for the latter force, the remains of that gallant division under General Townshend, which had so boldly essayed to capture Bagdad, and which, having dealt most severely with a Turkish force vastly outnumbering it at Ctesiphon, was forced to retreat, it had conducted that retirement along the River Tigris in the most masterly manner possible, and, having gained a sharp bend in the river at the town of Kut, where the Tigris surrounds the town on three sides, it had there been forced to halt, and put itself on the defensive. Some sixty thousand Turks surrounded the place, and huge efforts were made to beat down the resistance of this gallant division; yet it held off all attacks, and forced the Turks finally to sit down and besiege it. It became a question now as to whether the relieving force, which had now advanced towards Kut, and which was already indeed within gun-sound of General Townshend's forces, could break through and bring relief before the supplies of the beleaguered army had dwindled. As a matter of fact, persistent rains, the most wretched weather, and the extension of those marshes created a position which helped the Turks, and frustrated every effort of the relieving force. It drew nearer, but could not come up to Kut. It struggled on against overwhelming difficulties, while the starving band of heroes at Kut still held off the enemy; and then, when more rain came, when the marshes swept farther afield and relief seemed farther off than ever, and food was gone entirely, surrender became inevitable, and General Townshend and his noble band fell prisoners to the Turkish enemy.

Yet, one may ask, was the loss of the remains of this gallant division all loss to the British and their Allies? and may reply with confidence that it was not so. For that hazardous approach to Bagdad had held a numerous force of Turkish soldiers, while the resistance of our men at Kut had kept the enemy troops from operating in other parts of Asiatic Turkey. Indeed the absence of those sixty thousand Turks round about Kut aided not a little in the operations of the Grand Duke Nicholas, who, having established himself firmly at Erzerum, now launched his armies into Northern Turkey, and, sweeping on, captured Trebizond and many another base of value to our enemies. Those parties of Russian horsemen who had been operating on the Persian frontier marched south and east almost without interruption, threatening Bagdad and the retreat of those sixty thousand Turks mustered in the neighbourhood of Kut-el-Amara. Indeed the noble resistance of General Townshend's forces may be said to have helped the Russians wonderfully, and, seeing that Russia is our ally, that resistance helped Britain also.

Geoff and Philip and Douglas Pasha joined hands at length with that relief force which had unfortunately failed to relieve General Townshend and his band of heroes, and, as we write, our two heroes are in harness once more and are preparing to fight beside their new comrades right on towards the heart of Mesopotamia.