Carry On! A Story of the Fight for Bagdad

by Herbert Strang

ACROSS THE EUPHRATES

The chase had extended over several miles, and it appeared to Burnet that he was not far from the spot where he had been captured on the previous day, when he was considering how best to cross the Euphrates. He had lost a day; it was now doubtful whether he could reach the tell by the appointed time, even with the aid of the horse. Captain Ellingford could not be expected to wait long for him at such a remote and desolate place, and since it would be a long and hazardous undertaking to cross the Turkish lines except in an aeroplane the prospect was not at all cheering.

The first necessity was to give his horse rest after the long gallop. He reined up at a shallow pool, and while the animal drank he carefully scanned the surrounding country. It was a flat and almost bare plain, a few straggling bushes here and there making a struggle for existence. The river was not in sight, and he knew that between it and him stretched miles of swamp, through which it would be difficult for one unfamiliar with the locality to find a way. It seemed that his best course would be to ride on, as soon as the horse was sufficiently rested, until he came to one of the mounds that rose slightly above the general level: this would give him a wider outlook. As he waited he reflected on the almost entire absence of signs of war. In Meshed Ali he had heard scarcely any mention of the great conflict in which more than half the world was engaged; yet on the other side of the Euphrates, comparatively few miles away, a great Turkish army under German taskmasters was holding far-flung entrenchments which not all the valour of seasoned British troops and their gallant Indian comrades had availed to pierce after months of effort. The chances that Bagdad would fall to British arms appeared small indeed.

After half an hour's rest he put his horse to a smart trot, riding southward with a slight eastward trend in order to make gradual approach to the swampy region. In some twenty minutes he espied, some distance away to the left, a mound that would give him the look-out he desired. Riding towards it, and beyond, he dismounted, retraced his steps, and leading the horse, left it at the foot of the mound, screened from the north, and cautiously made his way on foot to the summit, where he found good cover behind a pile of ruins. And then he had a shock. To the north, probably two miles away, a small party of horsemen in extended order was riding towards him. They were too far away for him to distinguish their costume, but he had no doubt that they were some of the men who had pursued him from the bivouac. He had hoped and believed that the Turks, finding that he had the heels of them, had abandoned the idea of chasing him farther; but he was now forced to conclude that a few of the better-mounted men had been sent to follow him up, trusting perhaps to accident to deliver him into their hands. The order in which they rode seemed to show that they were following his trail on the sandy soil, with precautions against its possible disappearance in stony patches.

Burnet had no fear of their catching him if it came to another race over the plain, but he had already come so far out of his true direction that the prospect of further loss of time was annoying. He threw a hasty glance eastwards. Far off he descried the irregular line of reeds that marked the course of the Euphrates. The middle distance was almost unbroken swamp, except in one quarter, the north-east, towards that bend to which he had been proceeding when he was captured. A rapid calculation determined him to make a dash in that direction. It would mean doubling on his tracks, and if the enemy caught sight of him as he rode off at an acute angle with their own course they would certainly strike off to their left and try to intercept him before he reached the river. But he could not afford further delay. He had no fodder for the horse; for himself he had only a few dates left, and no water, for his waterskin was leaky and useless; and the farther south he went, the worse would be his chances of making a safe passage of the river.

Some distance to the south-east of the mound was an extensive area of marsh grass. Remounting, and keeping the mound between himself and the pursuers, he started in this direction, gained the shelter of the grass, which rose nearly to the horse's shoulders, and rode through it as rapidly as he could on the soft ground due eastward. He guessed that the pursuers would use the mound as he had done, as a post of observation, and when he judged that they must be approaching it, he plunged into the tallest patch of grass he could find, and dismounted. Through the grass he could still see the top of the mound, but he felt confident that neither himself nor the horse would be visible to the enemy when they arrived there. His hope was that, failing to discover him, they would continue their ride southward, leaving him to make off in the opposite direction without further danger.

Time passed. There was no sign of the Turks, and Burnet was beginning to surmise that they had either given up the chase or passed the mound when he saw figures appear above the summit. Four horsemen halted there. Where were the others? Surely he had counted six before? The absence of two made him uneasy. Had he been seen in spite of all his caution?

The four men remained motionless on the mound for several minutes. Then there was a faint shout in the distance. Instantly the four Turks dashed down the side of the mound, and galloped towards the patch of grass in which Burnet was concealed. It was only too clear that the missing men, whose movements he had been unable to see, had sought and found his trail at the base of the mound: the hunt was up.

It was no time for further finessing. He vaulted into the saddle, and rode off at full speed, as nearly as he could judge towards the narrow stretch of dry land through the swamp which he had previously marked. He was no longer in danger of being cut off, for he was between his pursuers and the river. Would they be able to ride him down?

Disappointment awaited him. The irregular space of open ground that had seemed to him, on his distant view from the mound, dry and firm, turned out to have many soft patches which it was impossible to avoid. There was no time to pick his way: he could only plunge into the swampy places as they occurred, chancing his luck. He soon found, however, that his horse had extraordinary judgment, bred, no doubt, of former experience in the marshes. It seemed to distinguish by instinct the firm ground from the soft, and being given its head, sprang from one hard patch to another unerringly.