A rope was speedily hitched to the raft, and the men began to pull lustily for the bank.
"Captain Becker," exclaimed Lieutenant von Leyden, suddenly smacking his knee, "you are two hundred thalers out of pocket. There lie the lost men now. That is Sir Arthur Ashby with the sandy beard, and the others are no doubt his companions."
"Tausend donner! that is true!" cried the doctor. "You are right, Carl. It is miraculous!"
Captain Becker smiled grimly, but said nothing.
A severe pull of ten minutes brought the raft to the little wharf, and in the strong arms of the German soldiers the rescued men were borne tenderly into the garrison-house and placed on cots that had been made up in readiness for them.
Never did Dr. Goldbeck have a more arduous task, but with medicine chest at his side, and two able assistants to carry out his instructions, he toiled unceasingly for hours.
Then success crowned his efforts, and the patients came slowly back to consciousness. For nearly a week they hovered between life and death, but finally all were pronounced out of danger except Bildad, who was struggling in a high fever.
At first they knew nothing, could remember nothing, but gradually memory returned, and they realized the full measure of their wonderful escape.
Guy was the first to rally, and Sir Arthur was the last, but ten days after their rescue all were able to sit up, and after that they gained strength rapidly.
The marvelous tale of their adventures was discussed over and over with their new friends—for most of the Englishmen could speak German—and from Captain Becker they learned the latest news from Zaila, which was to the effect that the place had been retaken by the English after a brief but desperate struggle. This information had been brought to the station by a German gunboat six weeks before.