In the grip of the Mullah: A tale of adventure in Somaliland

by F. S. Brereton

"Just the thing," he murmured, holding on firmly, so as not to be swept away, for the stream at this point came down with great force and rapidity. "I'll pull her on to this until she's fast, and then swim ashore."

Easy though the task seemed, it taxed his strength to the utmost, for, caught by the mass of water which swirled about her, the native craft proved a fractious thing to deal with. She wabbled from side to side, and then, just as her nose was in the right position, her stern floated out, and, being broadside on, she was borne down on to the white line of surf, where she remained for a moment jammed against the boulders. But Jim was not the lad to be easily beaten, and, realizing the difficulty before him, he waited for one moment to obtain a firm foothold in the shallow water, and then bending beneath the craft, lifted it clear from the river. Then he gently lowered it into the position which he had selected, and, having satisfied himself that it was securely fastened there, he turned and began to swim with long steady strokes towards the bank.

"And now for the second part of the undertaking," he said breathlessly, drawing himself gently from the river, and lying down upon the mud to rest. "I'll keep straight up the street, in the shadow of the huts, and when I get within sight of the one which shelters father, I shall wait a few minutes to see whether the sentry is wakeful or not. If all is quiet, I shall go to the back and endeavour to cut my way through the wall."

Accordingly, as soon as he had recovered his breath and regained his strength, for the exertion of placing the boats in position had been by no means light, he rose to his feet again, and slowly made his way up the village street. Arrived within some ten yards of the building which stood opposite to the Mullah's house, he crouched in the shadow of a wall, and remained there, peering into the darkness. At first there was not a soul to be seen in that direction, though when he looked a little farther to the right the reflection of the watch-fire, which seemed to burn continuously, caught his eye, and against it, dimly silhouetted, and looking ghostly and unreal, was the figure of the warrior who kept watch over his leader. He was a tall, athletic-looking man, and seemed at the moment to be lost in reverie, for he grasped the shaft of his long spear near its cruel metal point with both hands, and held his head bent forward. So still did he stand, and so easy and graceful was the poise of his muscular limbs, that Jim might well have been gazing at a finely carved statue of a Hercules. For five minutes his eye rested upon the man as if fascinated, and then of a sudden, as the breeze stirred the folds of the flag which flew from the roof above, causing it to flutter gently, the man awoke from his dream with a start, and began to pace restlessly up and down.

"Number one," said Jim quietly to himself; "he evidently fears no surprise, and should give no trouble at all. And now for the other fellow."

Some minutes passed before he was successful in discerning the outline of the Somali posted in front of the prisoner's door, but by turning his eyes away from the reflection of the fire, he was at length able to make out a huddled figure crouching upon the ground, and apparently slumbering deeply.

"Nothing could be better for me," murmured Jim, in tones of satisfaction. "If he will remain like that, and the other fellow continue to pace up and down, I ought to get into the hut without much trouble."

Pausing for a second or two to assure himself that his revolver was in position, he left the shadow of the wall, and slowly, and with the greatest caution, crept across the open space which intervened between himself and his goal. At last he touched the wall of the hut, and at once prepared to carry out his design. And now for the first time he realized the loss of his hunting-knife, which he had dropped when clambering to the top of the store-house. Without it, and in the absence of something with which to chip a hole in the wall, he was helpless, and at the thought a feeling of despair came over him.

"What an idiot I am!" he murmured, while tears of vexation filled his eyes. "I ought to have thought of this before, as any baby would have done. But it never occurred to me, and this is the result of my carelessness. But father shall not suffer; for if I cannot make my way to him through here, I will do so through the door, and chance discovery."

With this object in view he slowly crawled round the hut towards the place where the only entry was situated, and soon the sleeping sentry came into view as he crouched some three or four paces in front of the hut.