"PHILIP HURLED HIMSELF AND HIS CAPTIVE OVER THE RAIL OF THE VESSEL"
"Let go; it's me! Get hold of the old beggar!"
Philip was quite indignant, and, to tell the truth, the grip which Geoff had inadvertently fastened upon his chum's head of hair had been excessively painful; but in a moment he had transferred it to the shoulder of the Turk, and had drawn him close to the side of the dinghy. The stout and somewhat elderly commander was puffing like a grampus, and spurting water out of his mouth, while he wriggled and struggled to free himself from the one who had thrown his arms round him. Thoroughly scared by the unexpected assault which had been made upon him, and deprived utterly of speech by his sudden immersion in the river, he yet managed to get rid of the water which filled his mouth, and to give vent to a shout, a subdued shout, it is true, but one which easily reached the ears of the sentry aboard the steamer. Indeed, that individual had already halted on his beat, and was staring over the side into the Euphrates. He had felt the sudden tremor which had gone down the decks of the steamer as the cable parted, and there was now a curious movement, a strange bobbing of the ship, which was so different from her placid stillness of a moment or so earlier that he became suspicious, almost alarmed, and it required only the call of his Commander to cause him to shout at the top of his voice, to run to the companion-way which led to the quarters of the crew, and to beat upon it with the butt of his rifle. In fact, long before Geoff and Philip had accomplished their purpose and completed the capture of the Commander, men were pouring up on to the deck of the steamer, shouts were startling the air, while two or three of the men fired their rifles and thus increased the confusion.
Geoff leaned over the side of the dinghy, threatening to capsize it, and, placing his lips to the ear of the thoroughly startled Turk, spoke to him sternly.
"You are a captive—a prisoner," he told him. "Shout again, make the smallest show of resistance, and we shall push you under the water; but if you are quiet, and come aboard this boat readily, your life will be saved on certain conditions. You agree?"
The big bald head of the Turk nodded energetically, while the moonbeams were reflected from the wet and polished spot which a few moments before had been covered by his fez.
"You agree?" asked Geoff again. "We will save you on condition that you tell us all you know of your people. You refuse, eh?"
The hand which a moment before had gripped the shoulder of the Turk, in lieu of the missing hair, closed even more firmly, while the relentless Geoff pressed the unfortunate Turk lower in the water, till it looked as though he would send him right under.
"Stop!" gasped the Commander. "Save me! I agree!"
"Then come aboard! Give him a hoist, Phil, and gently with it!"
It was no easy matter to get that big Turk into the tiny little dinghy; and yet, with his willing assistance now—for to tell the truth the unfortunate Commander was innocent of the art of swimming, and had a horror of the water—Geoff and his chum contrived to roll him over the side, and deposit him on the bottom. Then Philip went right aft, and, with Geoff's help, came aboard in that direction, the three of them causing the dinghy to sink so low in the water that now and again the stream lapping against the sides splashed over.
"Sit dead in the centre and don't move for your life," Geoff told the Turk. "Now, Philip, paddle."
Dipping their paddles into the water they struck off to the left, and didn't slacken their exertions till they had emerged from the river and were in the streamless waste of waters from which they had stolen that evening. Now and again they had cast their eyes over their shoulders to see what was happening on the steamer, and, thanks to the lights aboard her which now flared up from many of the cabins, and thanks also to the shouts of her crew, to the hoarse and furious commands of the officers left aboard her, they had no difficulty in learning what happened.
"She's gone right down stream and round the bend," chuckled Philip.
"So we needn't bother any further about her—at least not for the present," said Geoff. "Let's sing out for our fellows."
Guiding the boat in beside an island, he stood up, and, placing his hands to his mouth, halloed. Then he waited a moment and repeated the shout.
"Listen! That's an answer, and from a point not so very far away," said Philip. "Shout again! Yes, within easy distance, I should say, for after getting this old gentleman aboard we struck up-stream so as to make allowance for the drift after I had cut the cable. Christopher, Geoff, what a jolly good business!"
For a hail persuaded them that they were indeed quite near to the steam-launch; and within the five minutes which followed, by dint of repeating their calls and listening to the answers, they were able to find their way back to the narrow channel in which their comrades lay waiting.
"Pull that dinghy aboard at once," commanded Geoff; "and one of you can take charge of this prisoner. I don't think you'll find he'll be a nuisance, for I've told him to expect a shot if he tries any nonsense. Now then, get up steam as fast as you can, for, at the first streak of dawn, I mean to get away and make a rush for the river."
Long before the sun was up, and whilst a thick mist still hung over the marshes, the launch was poled out of the channel in which she had been hidden, and was gently forced towards the Euphrates. Once arrived in the centre of the stream she was allowed to drift, power now and again being applied to her propeller so as to keep her under control and allow the steersmen to direct her. Half an hour later she slowly drifted by the hull of the steamer aboard which Geoff and Phil had made such an adventurous visit on the previous evening, now stranded high and dry on a sand-bank. Unobserved, the launch swept onward, and very soon, when the first rays of the sun had sucked up the mist, and made the course of the stream easily visible, the engine was set to work, and they shot down-stream at a rate which rapidly brought them to the Shatt-el-Arab.
By then the Turk had recovered his composure, and, thanks to the blanket with which he was provided, had been able to get rid of his wet clothing. Indeed, he became quite communicative, and long before the launch had reached the opposite side of the Shatt-el-Arab he had told Geoff all he knew of the disposition of the Turkish forces.
Thus the two young officers who had been sent into the marshes to gather news of the enemy returned, having brilliantly achieved their object.
"The information will be of the greatest service," they were told. "We are making dispositions to meet this Turkish force of whom you have gained tidings, and then the expedition will fight its way up the Shatt-el-Arab and into the heart of Mesopotamia."
Fighting, indeed, was before the British Expedition, for though their goal was the city of Bagdad—a jewel in the eyes of the Turks and the Arabs of this region—there were leagues of sands and marshes between them and it, and thousands of the enemy.