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

by F. S. Brereton

Turning his face towards the glare of the distant camp-fire, Jim struck off into the darkness, and was soon close to the huts which stood on the fringe of the village. By now the moon had risen higher, and enabled him to see his way more clearly, though, being only a small crescent, it did not give sufficient light to show his figure at more than a few paces. Taking advantage of this fact, he pressed on without hesitation, and, before he had expected it, was close to the dwelling which stood in the centre. Yes, there it was without doubt, for he could see the folds of the red flag floating lazily in the still night breeze, beating ever and anon against the spear-shaft which supported it, and giving rise to a flapping sound, which, until the cause of it was clear, was decidedly disconcerting.

"At last!" murmured Jim. "Over there is the hut which shelters the Mullah, while in the other sleeps his slave, my dear father. Whatever happens, I must and will reach him and rescue him. But how?"

The question was one which could not be answered easily, and which set him puzzling his brains. Half an hour before it had seemed to him more or less a simple matter to creep close to the mud dwelling beneath which his father slept and to gain access to him by means of a doorway, or perhaps by cutting a hole through the wall. Now, however, when the reality was before him, and he was actually brought face to face with the difficulty, he could not but admit that the danger and magnitude of the task were far greater than he had ever imagined. But he was not the lad to give way, or to be easily discouraged, particularly where his father's life was concerned.

"It looks rather difficult, I must admit," said Jim to himself, going on all-fours at the same moment, and then lying flat upon his face. "It seems to me that I cannot do better than wait here, hidden in this long grass, until I am certain of the whereabouts of the sentries. During the daytime I know that four keep watch over the Mullah, while one sits before the door of the prisoner. But do they still act as sentries when night has fallen? I should think that their number is reduced, particularly now, when all seems at peace, and the British have not yet entered the country. Still, it will be well to make certain of the fact, for it would be fatal to walk into the arms of one of these Somali warriors just as I was about to communicate with the prisoner."

Many minutes passed as he reclined full-length in the grass, and it was only when his stock of patience was well-nigh exhausted that he observed a movement close to the door of the hut in which the prisoner lived.

"A sentry," he said to himself, as a figure suddenly rose from the ground and stood erect, with arms wide outstretched. "And evidently sleepy, too," he added, as the native again raised his limbs and yawned deeply, showing a profile which was clear and distinct against the watch-fire which burnt some paces beyond. "I must keep my eyes upon him, and see where he rests, for that is what the fellow will do, I should fancy. He knows, or rather thinks, that there is nothing to fear, and being tired, he will indulge in a snooze. Well, if he does so, all the better for my hopes."

A few moments later the native slouched across to the opposite dwelling, the one in which the Mullah lived, and after looking about him and conversing for a short while with a second sentry who marched at the front, sat down deliberately against the wall, and folding his arms, gave himself up unrestrainedly to sleep.

"They have most likely arranged to keep watch for one another," thought Jim. "This fellow will have a couple or more hours' rest, and then will have to relieve his comrade. If that is the arrangement, it will suit me very well, for the man who is on duty now will devote himself to the Mullah, and will pay only casual attention to the prisoner's hut. I shall wait till he has strolled round this way, and then I shall make a dash for the door, and trust to getting in before he takes it into his head to have a second look. Ah, here he comes!"

The guard came sauntering round the larger of the two huts, and allowed Jim to obtain a good view of his features, for he, too, as if he had caught the infection from his comrade, stopped in the glare of the firelight and yawned loudly, throwing his head back and stretching in a manner which showed how drowsy he was. Then he went to the mud hut, and fumbled at the door. To Jim's delight, it opened, showing that it was not secured in any way. But the sentry had another object in view than to test the fastenings, for, drawing it back as far as it would go, he stepped on one side so as not to obstruct the rays of the moon, and then peered in. Evidently he caught sight of the prisoner, for he gave vent to a guttural murmur of approval, and then closed the door to with a jar. Then he slouched away, carrying his spear over his shoulder, with his shield dangling to it by a length of twisted leather.

"Now is my chance," murmured Jim. "I'll give him a moment to get round the corner, and then I'll make a dart for the hut. Here goes!"