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

by F. S. Brereton

"Sorry! Frightfully!" Philip grinned, as he deliberately slit one of the cushion-covers—a cushion, by the way, not of ordinary dimensions, but some seven feet in length and as many broad; a regular mattress, indeed, upon which, no doubt, the bulky Governor was wont to recline during his moments of leisure. It may have been the act of a vandal to destroy such a handsome covering, and at any other time, no doubt, Philip would have hesitated, for he was not such a scamp that he would deliberately destroy goods of such value and elegance.

"But it's our liberty or the Governor's goods," he grinned a little sheepishly at Geoff, as he dug the blade of his knife in again and sent the stuff ripping.

Nor was his comrade behindhand in the work, and already had stripped another of the enormous cushions. Perhaps it took them ten minutes, perhaps even longer, to construct from the strips of strong material a twisted rope made up of a number of lengths firmly knotted together, knots which they tested by a form of tug-of-war, dragging at opposite ends of their rope to be sure that it would provide a safe means of descent to the bottom of their prison. Then, lashing one end fast to the stone window-post, and coiling the other end in preparation, they went once more to the Governor's room, and staggered back again carrying a number of those huge cushions.

"And now for coffee and something to eat!" said Geoff. "What we can't finish now of the fruit and cakes we'll carry with us. Better still, as we're not particularly hungry at the moment, supposing we drink the coffee, which will take only a few moments, and finish the other when we have secured our liberty."

They had poured out two steaming cups of coffee, and were sniffing the contents with delight, when a sudden shout, a clamour in some portion of the prison, caused them to arrest the progress of the cups to their lips and listen. There were more shouts, a howl from some distant quarter, and then a loud hammering. As if determined not to be upset by any sort of commotion, and not to be robbed of a golden opportunity—for such coffee as this now underneath their noses had not been tasted by our two heroes during the long weeks of their captivity—Geoff resolutely raised his cup to his lips and drained the contents, smacking his lips afterwards in a manner not perhaps too polite, but very indicative of his feelings. Philip followed suit, and, gripping the kettle, replenished both cups, as if determined that he too would not be hurried. Then, setting the empty cups down beside the stove, they left the room, and, darting along the passage, peered out of the windows which gave access to the courtyard.

There were men down below—Turkish soldiers—some fully dressed and some in their shirt-sleeves. They were running hither and thither as though confused, and as though ignorant of the cause of the alarm which had just been given. Then, as Geoff and Philip looked, a door to their right at the foot of the courtyard was suddenly torn open, and a figure rolled rather than ran out, a man who tripped on the lowest step and fell face downward, only to bound to his feet again and rush off till he was in amongst the soldiers. Undoubtedly there was something behind him which was accelerating his progress, and which had made his entrance into the courtyard anything but dignified, abrupt, in fact, startlingly sudden and unexpected. It was something which appeared within a moment, someone who dashed after the unfortunate jailer, a fat man, wearing a fez at the back of his head—undoubtedly the Turkish governor—followed by another of similar proportions, broad and stout and beefy, with closely cropped head, a man who shouted and hurled threats through the doorway.

"Von Hildemaller!" gasped Geoff. "Someone's discovered him, someone's set him free! Perhaps it was the jailer."

"Or perhaps the Governor," Philip added. "He must have known that von Hildemaller was coming to see us; he must have given him permission. That's it, and when he came down the steps to the hall he was on the way to see what had happened. Lor'! what a shock he must have had when he discovered our German friend tied up like a bundle, and the two prisoners usually in that cell disappeared, gone entirely."

For a few moments the two watched the Governor and the German as they raged amongst the soldiers in the courtyard. Catching the unfortunate jailer, they beat him with their fists unmercifully, and no doubt, had one of them possessed a weapon, or had they thought to borrow a rifle from one of the soldiers, they would have shot him. Instead, they vented their fury on the man by beating him, and when he fell to the ground, so as to escape their blows, they kicked him in the most furious manner. As one can imagine, too, their anger, the shouts to which they gave vent, the sudden apparition of the jailer and his two tormentors, did not tend to lessen the agitation and perplexity of the Turkish soldiers. Even now, nothing had been said by which they could gather precisely what had happened, for there had been no mention of the two British prisoners, of their escape, and of the curious position in which von Hildemaller had been discovered. Breathless, and not a little fearful, they watched the scene going on in their midst, waiting for some word which would clear up the situation; and suddenly it came, when von Hildemaller and the Governor were breathless after their exertions, were satisfied with the blows and kicks they had rained on the jailer. It was the Governor, in fact, who suddenly recollected that his first business should have been to seek for the prisoners, for the jailer was always there, and could be punished on some future occasion. He suddenly swung round upon the startled soldiers and bawled orders at them.

"The prisoners," he bellowed, "the two British prisoners; they have escaped, I tell you! You numskulls, why have you not guessed it? Ah, but perhaps you are in collusion with this wretched jailer! Search the prison! Search every part of it! Be off with you! Give me a rifle, so that I may go to my quarters and there watch for these young ruffians. Come, von Hildemaller," he said, gripping the sleeve of the perspiring German, "to my quarters. From there every part of this courtyard and of the ground outside is visible. If we clamber to the roof there is none who may leave the place without our seeing him. Snatch a rifle from one of these fools and come with me. Then, should the prisoners elect to leave whilst we are watching, you will be able to put in a shot which will punish them for what has happened."