The clock of the mosque had struck half-past one. There was dead silence everywhere, save for the lazy lapping of the waves upon the sides of the steamer, and an occasional distant shout among the shipping inside the breakwater. Moon and stars had become obscured, but ever and anon the revolving light shed its white beams over many miles of shining water, appearing and disappearing with monotonous regularity. From the glass-covered roof of the saloon came a mellow glow of electricity that showed the bearded, rugged face of the solitary British sailor who paced the deck. On the extreme left of the White City, half concealed by the huge breakwater, loomed the great dark walls of Fort Bab Azzoun, wherein Zoraida was incarcerated, and from the shadows of which I expected every moment to see a boat emerge. But though time dragged on, and the escaping steam, increasing in volume, showed that we should soon weigh anchor, I could distinguish nothing. Minutes dragged like days. What if, after all, my efforts failed?
Sailors tramped the deck, orders were shouted from the bridge, ropes were coiled, and a steam-winch whirred with metallic ring. At last the ship’s bell tolled. It was two o’clock!
Still I strained my eyes towards the land, but could detect no moving object. Had the Governor-General deceived me? As each precious moment went by, I began to think he had. From above an order was given, four seamen rushed past me, and in a few moments the anchor was being slowly hauled up. Three long dismal shrieks from the steam siren echoed over the water and among the hills, and just as they died away I heard a distant shout. Dashing headlong to the opposite side of the ship, and peering away into the darkness, my heart gave a bound, for approaching gradually nearer was a boat containing three occupants.
It was hailed by the officer on the bridge, the electric signal rang into the engine-room, and the propeller, that had already begun to revolve, was immediately silent. Quickly the oars dipped, and the two rowers strained every muscle, until at last they drew alongside. A rope was thrown, made fast, and without delay a female figure, enveloped in a long dark travelling-cloak, the hood of which, drawn over her head, concealed her features, was hauled unceremoniously on board.
“Where am I?” I heard her cry in Arabic, alarmed at finding herself standing on deck between two rough sailors, whose language was strange to her.
Advancing quickly, I placed my hand upon her arm, replying in her own tongue—
“Have no fear. I have at last secured thy release. Thou art free! See! already we are on our way to England!”
“Ah!—Ce-cil!” she cried gladly, flinging her arms around my neck, and shedding tears of joy. “I—I thought thou wert lost to me for ever!”
“I made a promise which I have fulfilled,” I said, leading her back to the taffrail, where, alone and unobserved, I kissed her fondly, she returning my caresses with a passion that showed how well she loved me. The dress she wore, though fitting her badly, was of a thick, coarse material, well adapted for travelling, but the cloak covered it, and beyond her speech there was nothing about her to show she was a child of the Desert. Her skin was almost as fair as an Englishwoman’s, and her bright, luminous eyes had not become dimmed by the weeks of imprisonment, harsh treatment, and mental agony.
As the captain signalled “full steam ahead,” and the boat that had brought my idol from the shore was cast off with a shout of farewell, I told her briefly that I was taking her away to my own people, where we should be married and live always in ease and comfort. Locked in each other’s arms, I related how I, at the last moment, had learned the key to the Great Secret from Mohammed ben Ishak, and how subsequently I had discovered the wonderful Treasure of Askiá.