As darkness fell that night, the launch was tearing along through the stagnant water, flinging a bow wave on to the islands which cropped up, now to the right and now to the left of her. Sometimes her steersman was forced to make her swerve somewhat violently, to avoid an obstruction consisting of ooze and mud and covered with thick-growing reeds, but for the most part her course was directly forward, and parallel to the river. At length, as darkness fell, the engines were stopped, and the boat was brought to a halt between two islands. There the anchor was dropped, and the little force made ready to spend the night and to prepare for an eventful to-morrow.
CHAPTER IX
A Cutting-out Expedition
"What's that? Listen! I heard something!"
Geoff cocked his head up over the side of the cabin in which he and Philip had been partaking of their evening meal, and turned his face towards the River Euphrates, across the waste of ooze and mud and water which separated their captured launch from it—a waste hidden by the darkness, and yet illuminated ever so faintly by a crescent of the moon, which was already floating above them, while stars peppered the sky in every direction, and helped to make things visible. Across the waste of water, dulled by the whisper of the evening breeze as it rustled through the reeds and osiers, a sound had come to Geoff's ears, a sound which caused him to enjoin silence upon all aboard the steam-launch. Then, as he listened, there came to his ears, at first faintly only, but growing steadily yet gradually louder, the plug, plug of the paddles of a river steamer.
"The Turk who had the cheek to fire that shot at us!" exclaimed Philip. "Listen to him! He's going up the river, and I dare say he's wondering what's happened to his launch, and whether he'll find that rather nice and comfortable little vessel waiting for him up-stream. Eh, Geoff?"
"Listen! The paddles are going slower, and it sounds to me as if the steamer was going to pull up for the night. You must remember that the Euphrates isn't the sort of river that one cares to steam up at any kind of pace during the hours of darkness, for by all accounts it's stuffed full of sand-banks and muddy islands, which are always changing, 'specially after rains and storms. There's a voice," Geoff went on; "that's someone giving an order! And now the paddles have ceased altogether."
"Plunk! There goes her anchor. She's come to a roost without a doubt!" ejaculated Philip. "That's rummy, ain't it? Our Turkish friends will be settling down for their evening meal—or whatever sort of thing they have—within sound of us, and, I'll lay my hat, without suspecting that their precious steam-launch is within easy reach of them."
Geoff stretched out a hand in the semi-darkness and gripped his chum by the shoulder.