That was the worst of it. I knew enough about the temper of those gun-running fellows—hadn't I seen what had happened at Bungi and Sudab?—and the Arabs are no whit less ferocious and revengeful than the Afghans. It seemed such hard luck to get those villagers to help us and then leave them to certain vengeance. These especial people were so simple, and had been so useful, that it would be a shame to leave them unprotected. But what could we do? Neither the Bunder Abbas nor the Intrepid could stay there for ever.
Lower down still, quite close to the bottom of the zigzag, I met the commander, very pleased with himself and with me too.
"You should get promotion out of this," he said, as I saluted; "it's the finest haul that's been made for years—three thousand rifles at least, and more ammunition than we've destroyed in the last twelve months."
He made me tell him the whole yarn over again, and then ordered me to take my men back to the Bunder Abbas. I did not want to go, but had to.
At the bottom of the "coffee-cup" I saw the mangled remains of many of the camels which had fallen down the precipice. Rifles from their burst bundles were scattered round them, and some of the Intrepids were still moving about among the boulders, searching for dead or wounded Arabs. Then at the very entrance to the gorge, round the corner where the Arabs had taken up their first position, I found Nicholson busy with the wounded, and showing some natives how to make litters.
The man who had been so desperately wounded was dead. "Nothing could have saved him," Nicholson told me, as though I might think he had not done enough for him. He brightened when he saw how little the scar on my forehead showed.
"A good bit of work—that," he said, quite pleased, and wanted me to take the other four wounded back to the village.
So off we started with them. Two could walk, and we took it in turns to carry the others, for the villagers were much too excited and impatient to realize the necessity for gentleness. They wanted to run along with them as if they had been sacks of potatoes.
Fifty or sixty of the camels were already slowly tramping down the rocky slope ahead of us, and when we reached the village we found them kneeling under the shade of some trees, looking quite contented—that is, if a camel can look contented. The youngsters who had brought them down, and all the women and children in the village, were gathered round in a state of wonderment. The women covered their faces when they saw us; but the children came crowding round us, clapping their little brown hands, and followed us down to the beach, dancing and jumping with glee.
I took the wounded men on board the Intrepid, and then went aboard the Bunder Abbas, where I had a great reception. Even the dismal cook and his still more dismal "mate" showed symptoms of pleasure, and Mr. Scarlett's face—for once—was beaming. His claw-like hand shot out and gripped mine like a vice. "I've had a terrible bad time of it for the last twenty-four hours, sir. Never thought to see any of you alive again. We all wanted to come along and lend a hand, but you know that we dursn't leave the 'B.A.', sir, don't you?"