He continued to protect Nell, and this gave her such an unlimited confidence in him that when Dr. Clary asked her whether she was not afraid of the storms on the Red Sea, the girl rested her beautiful soft eyes on him and replied, “Stasch will know what to do!” Captain Glen said that no one could have given a truer and more beautiful proof of what Stasch was to the little one or given him higher praise.
Although the first telegram sent to Mr. Tarkowski at Port Said was very carefully worded, it produced such a great effect on Nell’s father that he nearly died of joy, and Mr. Tarkowski, although an unusually demonstrative man, knelt down to pray and besought God that this news might not be another false clue or the result of a diseased imagination brought about by their own longing and their grief. For had they not both done everything trying to ascertain if their children were still alive? Mr. Rawlison had led caravans to the Sudan, and Mr. Tarkowski, dressed as an Arab, had gone as far as Khartum, thereby greatly endangering his life. Nothing had been of any avail. Those who might have given them some news had died from smallpox or from hunger or had been killed in the bloody fights that were continually being waged, and there seemed no more trace of the children than if they had fallen into the water and disappeared. At last both fathers gave up all hope and only lived on remembrances, firmly convinced that there was nothing in life for them, and that death alone would reunite them to their loved ones, who were everything to them. When this great joy suddenly came to them it was almost more than they could bear; nevertheless, it was accompanied by uncertainty and surprise. Neither of them could comprehend how and in what manner the news of the children had come from this part of Africa; that is to say, from Mombasa. Mr. Tarkowski imagined that an Arab caravan, advancing from the eastern coast after having been in the interior hunting for ivory, had reached the Nile and had either bought their freedom or had stolen them. The words of the telegram, “thanks to the boy,” they accounted for in the following manner: They conjectured that Stasch must have written to the captain and the doctor and told them where he and Nell were to be found. But there were many things which it was impossible to explain. On the other hand, Mr. Tarkowski clearly saw that this was not only good news, but very good news, for otherwise the captain and the doctor would not have dared to arouse their hopes, and besides, they would not have told them to come to Mombasa.
The preparations for the journey were soon made, and on the second day after receiving the telegrams both engineers, with Nell’s governess, boarded a large steamer of the Peninsula and Orient Company, which was on its way to India, and stopped en route at Aden, Mombasa, and Zanzibar. In Aden a second telegram awaited them, which read: “The children are safe in our care. The boy a hero!” After he had read it Mr. Rawlison, nearly beside himself, continually repeated as he grasped Mr. Tarkowski’s hand:
“You see—he saved her—I owe her life to him——” and Mr. Tarkowski repressed his feelings, so as not to appear weak, compressed his lips, and answered: “Yes, the boy has been brave,” and entering his cabin, he wept for joy.
At last the moment came when the children threw themselves into the arms of their fathers. Mr. Rawlison took his regained treasure in his arms, and Mr. Tarkowski held his heroic boy pressed to his heart in a long embrace. Their calamities had passed by as hurricanes and storms pass over the desert. Life was once more filled with sunlight and happiness, their longing and separation even increasing their present rejoicing. But the children were greatly surprised that their fathers’ hair had become quite white during the separation.
They returned to Suez on a French boat of the Messageries Maritimes, which was crowded with passengers from the islands of Réunion, Mauritius, and from Madagascar, and Zanzibar. When the news that there were children on board who had been taken captive by the Dervishes and escaped had become known, Stasch was made the center of general curiosity and admiration. But the happy quartet preferred to shut themselves up in the large cabin, which the captain had given up to them, and pass the cool hours relating their adventures. Nell also took part, chattering like a little bird, and to the great amusement of everybody she commenced every sentence with “and.” Resting on her father’s knees and raising her lovely eyes to him, she talked somewhat like this: “And, papa, dear! And they carried us off and led us on camels—and Gebhr beat me—and Stasch protected me—and we arrived in Khartum—and there people died of hunger—and Stasch worked, so as to get dates for me—and we were with the Mahdi—and Stasch would not change his religion—and the Mahdi sent us to Fashoda—and then Stasch killed a lion and all—and we lived in a large tree called “Cracow”—and King was with us—and I had the fever—and Stasch cured me—and he killed a wobo—and conquered the Samburus—and—papa, dear—he was always very good to me——”
She also spoke of Kali, Mea, King, Saba, Linde and his mountain, and of the kite sent up just previous to meeting the captain and the doctor. Mr. Rawlison could with difficulty suppress his tears during this chatter, pressed his child more closely to his heart; and Mr. Tarkowski was so overcome with pride that he could not control himself, for even from this childish talk it could readily be seen that had it not been for the ability and energy of the boy the little one would have been hopelessly lost, not only once, but many times.