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

by F. S. Brereton

It was Geoff's turn to giggle. For the life of him he could not help smiling and chuckling, and indeed found it hard to prevent himself from laughing outright. The gusto with which Philip outlined his plan, his tremendous eagerness and enthusiasm, and the glee in his tone—whispered though it was—were simply infectious. It was only by clapping a hand over his mouth, and gripping Philip's wrist so firmly that that young fellow expostulated by shaking the grip off violently, that Geoff could master his feelings.

"Tremendous!" he told his chum. "And if it doesn't succeed, well it—er—ought to."

"Then, right oh! I'll leave my tunic and revolver here, and go in my shirt and breeches. Boots ain't wanted for swimming either, so I'll take these off. Listen to the old beggar whistling!"

As the young British officer rapidly divested himself of his coat, and of his boots and puttees, he could hear the Turkish Commander still sauntering to and fro on the deck above, every now and again whistling gently and cheerfully. That he was still smoking also there was no doubt, for occasionally the whiff of his cigar was swept down towards the dinghy.

"And a ripping good cigar, believe me," whispered Philip, "and an awful shame to deprive him of its enjoyment, and to waste it before it's quite finished. But war, don't you know, Geoff, is no respecter of things and circumstances and people. The old bounder above will suffer for the cause—our cause, I mean—for we jolly well mean to have him."

What a thing it was to have as a companion in such a critical adventure a young fellow gifted with such splendid spirits, with so light a heart that all thought of danger slipped from his shoulders. Not that Geoff himself was the one to consider risks in the midst of such an undertaking, or even before setting out for the venture; though, to be sure, like every other young officer, he had his serious times, and, as they had paddled their way towards the steamer, had wondered what would happen, whether they would meet with success or dismal failure, and whether capture or death would be the result of their visit. But long ago he had thrown off all doubts, and was ready and eager to face anything—a readiness made all the more pronounced by the encouragement he received from Philip.

"You are simply splendid, Phil, old boy," he told him enthusiastically, and still in the lowest of low whispers. "Of course I'll back you up through thick and thin. I'll wait till I hear the old boy plump overboard, and have the dinghy already cast loose, and ready to push off into the river. Hauling him aboard will be no easy matter, but it's got to be done, and without capsizing the dinghy. Then you'll have to join us, though the combined weight of the three will almost sink this cockle-shell. Still, it's the smallest of our adventures, and once we are all aboard we'll have got through with the greater part of the business. Ready?" he asked.

"Aye! Ready!" said Philip in the most careless manner possible.

Stretching his hand overhead, he caught the rope to which the dinghy was made fast and put his full weight on it. Then he lifted himself out of the dinghy, and very slowly and gingerly lowered himself into the water, making not so much as a splash in doing so. A vigorous stroke with his legs took him as far as the rudder of the steamer, and for a moment his fingers played about it; then, gripping the bilge keel which ran round the side of the steamer, and against which the water lapped continually, he pulled himself forward up-stream, finding but little difficulty in carrying out his purpose. It took him perhaps five minutes to reach the bows of the vessel—five solid minutes, during which he had to stop on two occasions, the first to allow the Commander of the vessel to tramp to the opposite side, and the second for the same reason when he came opposite the beat of the sentry. Then his fingers lit upon the stem-post, and, pulling himself up out of the water, he reached for the rail, only to find that it was a foot or more above him, and quite out of his reach, in spite of all his efforts. But Phil was not the sort of British officer to give way easily, or to allow himself to be lightly beaten. Indeed, there are few of them of whom this cannot be said; for a more resourceful, more gallant, and a more dashing set of young men no country has ever possessed, and no finer set of young fellows have ever obeyed the national call to duty.

"Beastly high up—rather a bother!" was all he told himself while he clung to the stem-post and considered. Then, placing his stockinged feet against the post, and heading up-stream, he shot himself forward through the water with a violent kick, and, groping about, soon gripped the cable to which the steamer was moored.