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

CHAPTER XX
Success at Last

Dusk was falling over the city of Bagdad, that ancient city situated astride the River Tigris, which, if it could tell tales at all, could tell of ancient peoples, of past history of surpassing interest, of deeds and doings which would enthral all people. How many thousands of times must dusk have settled upon this ancient spot, and clad the gilded roofs of minarets and towers just as it was doing on this evening. How often, too, must figures precisely similar to those which now wended their way through its narrow and tortuous streets have passed over, perhaps, even the very same cobbles, hundreds of years before; maybe there was no difference even in their dress, in the raiment of those people of former days and in that donned now by the inhabitants of the city. Certainly no three less conspicuous people ever passed down the main street which runs towards the Western Gate than those three who emerged from the narrow courtyard into which Geoff and his comrades had dashed. One was mounted on the driving-seat of that same rickety chaise which had conveyed the cunning von Hildemaller to the city; while two others, ill-kempt yet well-set-up fellows, were astride stout Turkish ponies.

"Who goes?" the sentry at the gates challenged.

"A party, towards the west, in the service of one who is a friend of the Governor.

"One who is a friend of the Governor. Ho, ho!" the sergeant of the guard answered flippantly, as if he doubted the words. "Halt, there! Declare yourselves! Who is the high and mighty individual who is a friend of the one who commands our services?"

He stepped rapidly forward, while one of his men, at a signal from him, leapt into the centre of the road where it passed through the gates and barred the way with his bayonet.

"How now! By Allah; this is a strange saying that you have given us, 'a friend of the Governor?' One who walks in high places and yet employs such scarecrows? Who are you?"

The sergeant halted beside the driver of the carriage, and at the same time seized the reins of one of the ponies; then the driver of the rickety chaise bent over towards him, looked suspiciously at the sentry, and, bending lower, whispered in the sergeant's ear.

"Fool!" he said; "do you wish to harm even your own Governor? Must you then make a scene at the very gates of the city and so disclose his purposes? Listen a moment. Doubtless you have been on guard at this gate on many an occasion, and doubtless, too, you know of men of whom it may be said with justice that they walk in high places – even in the palace of the Governor. Then, if that is so, you will know of von Hildemaller."

Instantly the Turkish sergeant looked up at the driver with a startled, if not frightened, expression on his face.

"That man!" he exclaimed, "but surely – "

"S – s – h, no 'buts'," the driver of the chaise murmured in warning tones. "Pass us out without further ado, for it would be ill for you if I were to report to my master that I was delayed here at the gate, and that the Governor's purpose was defeated."

"Stand aside there! Pass without. Go on your way, friends, and may Allah bless you!"

In a moment the sergeant's purpose had been entirely altered, the mention of the Turkish governor, and of von Hildemaller's name, having acted like magic, and at once the driver, who had cautioned the man in stage whispers, so mysteriously in fact, sat upright, gripped his reins again, and whipped up his sorry pony; while those two who straddled their ponies beside him dug their heels into their mounts, the three clattering over the cobbles between the gates, and passing out into the gathering darkness. A quarter of an hour later they pulled up about half a mile beyond the gates and waited for their passenger.

"Phew!" exclaimed one of the trio, sliding from the rather uncomfortable saddle of the animal he was riding; "that was a near one as we were coming through the gates. Of course I couldn't understand a word of what was being said, but that sergeant fellow looked nasty. And, Geoff, what a scrimmage!"

"Scrimmage? Oh!"

"Yes, of course. In that yard and in that stable. Glad you downed that fellow who, Esbul tells us, was the leading ruffian hired by von Hildemaller."

Geoff dropped from his pony at that precise moment, slung the reins over his arm, and entered into conversation with his companions. He felt very gay-hearted and unusually cheerful, and, moreover, he had enjoyed every bit of that scrimmage to which Philip had referred, and even the scene at the gate, which at one moment had looked so threatening.

Let us explain that the coming of dusk had provided another adventure for our hero and his friends, an adventure filled with strenuous movement – an encounter, in fact, where the numbers were equally divided, and where victory, therefore, was all the more pleasing. Dashing in through that aperture which led from the yard into which they had traced those three in the pay of von Hildemaller, Geoff had found himself in a big tumble-down stable, in one corner of which a chaise stood, while three animals were haltered near it. The three men, who, unsuspicious of the fact that they were followed, had entered the place but a few minutes before, were at that very moment about to throw off the halters from these animals and prepare them for a journey. Then, hearing footsteps at the door, and seeing figures enter it, they turned, and, realizing at once that the intruders were likely to prove unfriendly, they dashed towards them, one of the men drawing a knife, while the taller ruffian – he who was von Hildemaller's right-hand man – snatched a revolver from his belt. It was at that precise moment that Geoff dealt the blow which had delighted Philip. Lunging forward, he struck the man with his clenched fist, knocking him backwards till the fellow's head came violently against a beam which supported the roof timbers. Nor was Philip behindhand in helping his comrades and in joining in the attack. He had no time in which to select his man or to make special preparations; but, leaning forward, he threw himself upon one of them, gripped him in his arms, and wrestled with him. As for Esbul, he was just in time to ward off a stroke launched at his heart by the man who had drawn the knife; quick as thought, he gripped the wrist and arrested the blow, and, with equal swiftness, clasped his other hand over the fist which gripped the weapon, and suddenly jerked the man's arm backward. Bump! The elbow struck the wall behind with a nasty jar, and forced the fellow's grip to loosen. What followed was done in a flash, was done with such swiftness that Geoff failed to observe what had happened, for Esbul had the knife in his own hand in a moment and had plunged it to the hilt in the body of the ruffian.

"Now, let's tie this other fellow up," Geoff had said, seeing that Philip had firm hold of the man he had tackled; "slip one of the ropes off this halter, and let's secure him to one of the mangers."

Wiping the blade of the knife he had secured upon the clothing of his victim, Esbul calmly stepped across the stable to where the animals were standing, and returned within two minutes with a length of rope which was amply sufficient for their purpose. Indeed, within five minutes, the third of the German's hirelings was bound hand and foot and tied securely to one of the mangers. Then Geoff bent over the man he had struck, and who, meanwhile, had made no movement.

"Dead, Master," Esbul told him, kneeling upon the floor. "The blow you struck was a strong one, and his head, coming with such violence against the wooden beam, was cracked. No longer will he do the bidding of von Hildemaller."

The end of those three whom the two subalterns and the Armenian had tracked so silently and so skilfully had indeed been as tragic as it was sudden, and the first part of the scheme to outwit the German had ended most successfully. No time was lost after that, and the animals were hurriedly harnessed and saddled and taken out into the yard.

"You'll drive the chaise," Geoff told Esbul, a note of authority in his voice; "and you'll just keep your mouth shut, Philip."

"Right oh!" came from that hopeful.

"Then march! We can leave this fellow who's tied up to the manger without much fear of his creating an alarm. Even if he shouts, I doubt if anyone will hear him; but no doubt he will have his own reasons for keeping quiet, and for trusting for release to some chance comer."

Then they had moved away from the yard, had passed down one of those narrow winding streets which intersect the city, and had finally gained the main street which led to the western gate.

"And now, all we want is our dear friend von Hildemaller," declared Philip. "He was to come at dusk, Esbul – that's what you said; you're sure?"

"Certain, Master. If you have any doubts, but think for a moment. The tale I told was that three hirelings were to await the German outside the western gate of the city, one driving a rickety chaise and two mounted. Then consider for an instant: we who went out to track these men, who watched outside von Hildemaller's quarters, saw three men emerge, followed three men, tracked them to the west of this city, tracked them, indeed, into a stable where a chaise was waiting and three horses. Is not that, then, proof sufficient of the truth of the tale I have told? Does it not lead one to feel sure that the rest of the plan will follow?"

"S – s – h, shut up! Get into your place, Esbul. Climb on to your pony, Philip; and don't forget – not a word. I can hear someone coming."

They had drawn up the chaise just beside the road, and were standing on the soft ground which bordered it. The road itself was so covered in dust that there, too, steps were hardly audible; yet the heavy tread of a man approaching now reached their ears, and a little later the deep breathing of one using much exertion. Then, when a few minutes had passed, a ponderous figure came into view through the gathering darkness – a figure which grunted and panted, which could have belonged to no other than the German.

"Ach, it is there!" they heard him say in his own language. "It is well, for I am tired, and this dust and the heat exhaust me."

Coming up to the chaise, he looked swiftly at the figures of the three men near it and clambered ponderously into it.

"You came direct here without attracting attention, eh?" he asked peremptorily of one of the figures mounted on a pony – of Philip, in fact, for the subaltern happened to be nearest. "Come, answer! You attracted no attention!"

He was speaking in Turkish now – execrable Turkish, with a strong flavour of German accent about it, and yet a language unknown to Philip. What was he to do? Attempt an answer or remain silent? Either might easily warn the German that all was not as it should be, and then a way out of the difficulty occurred to him. Philip opened his mouth as if to answer von Hildemaller, and immediately bent double over the neck of the animal he was riding and commenced to cough violently, as if he had caught his breath, or as if the cloud of dust which the German's heavy feet had stirred had almost choked him.

"Bah! Then you answer the question."

The words were shot at the other horseman, and received an instant answer.

"Master, all is well. We passed through the gate without creating suspicion. There is none who knows of our coming."

"Then drive on," commanded the German to the man seated on the box of the vehicle; "drive on at once."

"But where, where, Master?"

"Where? Ah, I had forgotten that you were ignorant of the place to which I am going. Straight on till I give you an order to turn; the place is some ten miles distant."

Never in all the course of their lives would Geoffrey, Keith, and Philip forget that journey – that journey, that slow, tedious journey over the rough road leading from the western gate of Bagdad, a journey occupying perhaps two hours and a half, a period which appeared to their eager, anxious minds like an eternity. They were tingling with excitement, with expectation, and with impatience. In spite of the many adventures through which they had passed, of the many tight places in which they had found themselves, this undoubtedly was the most trying of all their experiences; for at any moment the German might discover the ruse, might find out that the three who surrounded him were not his hirelings, and might defeat the efforts made to outwit him. Even his heavy breathing, his lolling head, and the fact that he was dozing, hardly helped to minimize the tension of the situation.

"Ah, a building ahead of us, I think!" Geoff whispered to himself, when, having traversed the main road for some eight miles, and turned to the left at von Hildemaller's bidding, they had made their way over a side-track which was indescribably rough and trying; "a building ahead of us. Looks like a big fortress; perhaps it's a prison."

He gave vent to a loud cough, so as to awaken the German, and then once more fixed his eyes on the dull shape he had seen in the distance. As for von Hildemaller, he awoke with a start, and, standing up with difficulty, and setting the rickety chaise swinging, he too peered ahead, and then, making out that distant shape, uttered a hoarse chuckle.

"The place! We are there, or almost so. Good!" Geoff heard him mutter. "Pull up at the main gate," von Hildemaller commanded Esbul. "Now, that will do! You will wait here till I come out again, and you will know what to do, for we have already discussed the matter. Wait, though, I will repeat my instructions: there will be a man with me, a man who will be tied hand and foot, a mere log, of no danger to any one of us. I shall join him in the chaise, and you will drive off immediately. A mile down the road which we have just covered you will halt, for that will be sufficiently far, and voices, even screams, will not be heard over such a distance. You will halt, and then – and then – "

Esbul swung his head round and bent towards the German.

"And then, Master," he whispered, "the matter will be ended as you have already ordered."

"Good! You understand, then? There's no fear of an error being made, no fear of your becoming chicken-hearted, for we shall be alone – four of us – with this one man, and he tied hand and foot, remember, tied hand and foot," the German repeated, giving vent to a ghastly chuckle. "No fear of a blow, no fear of his struggling even, no chance of his breaking loose. If he screams – Ah, well, you have heard screams before, and they will not unman you. You are ready?"

"Ready, Master," Esbul told him in that soft voice of his. "Ready, and willing."

Again the chaise rolled and rocked as the German stepped to the side of it and gained the ground. Waddling towards the prison, he ascended the stone steps which led to the doorway, and banged heavily upon the wall. Perhaps five minutes later, steps were heard within, the door was opened, and, having parleyed for a while, von Hildemaller entered, and the door closed instantly.

"Now, round with the chaise, and make ready. Good heavens!" exclaimed Geoff, only at this moment beginning to grasp the sinister designs of the German. "Did ever one listen to such a scoundrel? A bound man is to be brought out to us, we are to halt a mile down the road, a mile down it, Philip, at such a distance that screams may not be heard by the people in this prison, the bound man will be so securely fastened that he cannot even struggle for his life, and there, in cold blood, he is to be finished. You realize the plan? Its cold-blooded cruelty? You realize the frightful act that this von Hildemaller contemplates?"

For a few moments there was silence between them, and then a gasp almost of pain from Philip, a gasp of amazement, of horror, and of anger. Usually light-hearted, flippant in fact, his voice now, when he spoke, was grave, was trembling with passion.

"A fellow wouldn't kill a mad dog under such conditions," he said bitterly, "and yet this von Hildemaller chuckles. What'll you do?"

"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.