On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris

An instant later a shrill shriek was heard from the approaching vessel, as her steam whistle was put into operation; then there was a flash from her side, and perhaps a quarter of a minute later a shot hit the water just behind the motor-boat, and, throwing up a huge cascade, almost drenched Geoff and his comrades. When they had shaken the water out of their eyes, and looked again at the approaching vessel, they saw a string of boats which were towing after her being pulled for'ard. Then men tumbled over the low sides of the vessel into the boats, while others ran into her bows, and, seizing their rifles, opened fire upon the occupants of the tiny vessel lying down below them.

"Go ahead!" said the Commander, as bullets spluttered into the water all round the vessel. "Keith, come along aft here, so that we can talk the matter over. What do you think, lad?" he asked, as Geoff joined him. "I don't like to put my helm about, and show my stern to that Turkish fellow."

"Nor I!" Geoff agreed with him; "and besides, we shan't have accomplished that for which we came into the marshes. It's bad luck, of course, sir, running into an exploring-party of the enemy so soon after coming this way, but there are sure to be more coming behind them, and those are the fellows whose positions we have to make out. Why not try to dodge them? By running right off to our left into the marshes we should soon be hidden by the islands of mud and reeds, and then we could steal westwards till we were above those fellows!"

"Wait! What's that? Another vessel, eh?" exclaimed the Commander, pointing to a spot higher up the river than that occupied by the Turkish vessel. "Ah!"

Geoff looked, and took in the situation in an instant, for, beyond the low-built Turkish steamer which they had so unexpectedly sighted round a sharp bend of the river, he saw another steamer – a small pinnace – low, like themselves, and speedy, and making towards them now on the stream, at a pace which heaped a mass of water up in front of her. Once more his glasses went to his eyes, and for a while he remained silent. Then he slowly dropped them into their case, lit a cigarette, and turned to his Commanding Officer.

"A fast steam-launch, sir," he said; "twenty men aboard her. It looks as though we should have quite a brisk little action."

For perhaps a minute the Commander turned his gaze upon the pursuing vessel, whilst his own craft sped down the river; then he smiled grimly, and Geoff heard him chuckle.

"Right!" he said. "A pretty little action! I believe you, Keith. Starboard your helm, Cox, and edge the boat off gradually towards the marshes. We'll induce that fellow to follow us till we are well away from the other vessel, so that she cannot support the launch with her gun; then we'll see what sailors can do at carrying out an ambush. Lie down, men, it's only fools who won't take cover; keep as low as you can, and don't give 'em anything to fire at."

Bullets, meanwhile, had been sweeping above the boat, and streaming their way past the ears of its occupants. Spurts of water rose on every hand, while now and again a cascade – a mere child to that thrown up by the shell which had been fired at them at the commencement of this encounter – would splash over the sides of the motor-vessel. Obedient to the order given them, yet grudgingly, for your sailor is a gallant fellow, the crew crouched low behind the sides of the vessel, leaving the Cox fully exposed, and the Commander still standing to his full height in the open cabin, and beside him Geoff, holding his ground – not wincing, not even dodging or bobbing his head, as bullets flicked past him.

"Nervous?" asked the Commander, as he stuffed tobacco into his pipe and calmly set the weed alight. "Not you, Keith! Nor Denman either! That's good to see, though it is only what I expected. Now set her going at full speed, and we'll see what we can do to dodge those fellows."

A long island of mud, clad with reeds, stood up before the motor-vessel, and it looked for a while as though the Commander had every intention of running her upon it; but at a signal from him – a signal made with a jerk of the hand which gripped his pipe – the Cox pushed his helm over, and the motor-boat shot past the end of the island, and, turning again, sped up behind it. A further jerk, and she turned off at a tangent, and, speeding across a waste of stagnant water, thrust her nose in between two reedy islands, following a channel which hardly seemed wide enough to accommodate her. Turning and twisting, and dodging to right and left, and once grounding with a dull and gentle thud upon the tail of an island, and breaking loose again because of her momentum, the vessel shot across another waste, and, rounding the end of a second stretch of oozy mud, was rapidly brought to a halt.

"Ask your old gentleman whether the mud would bear a man," the Commander told Geoff abruptly.

"Truly, Excellency," came the immediate answer. "These banks, though they quiver as one walks upon them, are yet solid, for the roots of the reeds have bound the mud together. Excellency, if I may ask a favour, let me land here, so that I may convey a warning to you."

A moment later the man was ashore, and, at a nod from the Commander, Geoff accompanied him. Then, pushing their way through the reeds, they gained the farther side, and, cautiously making an opening through which they could watch, waited for the coming of their pursuers. It was perhaps five minutes later when the rattle of machinery came to their ears, and within a few seconds the Turkish vessel hove into sight as she thrashed her way through the waste of waters. That she had lost the direction of the motor-boat seemed certain, though the Turks aboard her must have known that they were not far behind their quarry. A loud order reached Geoff's ears, while the clank of machinery died down of a sudden; then he saw the launch drift on towards the end of the island behind which the motor-vessel was hiding. Creeping back towards the Commander, he waved to him to attract his attention, and then called softly to him.

"In five minutes they will be crossing the far end of this island, sir," he said; "it ought to give us an opportunity."

"Come aboard, and bring the old gentleman with you," the Commander cried on the instant. "Now, boys, line the gun'l there, and hold your fire till I give the order. I've a little scheme on foot, and I'll be particularly grateful to you if you don't sink her. Shoot some of the crew, and capture the rest of them if need be. Now, my man, set her going!"

The engine revolved again, and in a trice the propeller was thrashing the water; then, ever so gently and quietly, they stole up beside the island, while on the far side the Turkish launch drifted ever closer to them.

CHAPTER VII
Major Joseph Douglas

While Geoff and his friends are aboard that motor-vessel, on the point of attacking the Turks aboard the steam-launch which had so unexpectedly opposed their progress up the River Euphrates, let us for a moment turn aside to follow the fortunes of another individual who has already been introduced to our readers.

We have already recounted how Major Joseph Douglas, a "political" officer, said farewell to his friends in that frontier fortress far up amongst the hills of India, and how he disappeared, as indeed was his wont, on another of those long expeditions on which the Government of India employed him. We have said that he reached the Persian Gulf and made his way to Basra, and thence up country on a river steamer till the walls of Bagdad enclosed him. Then, having disappeared from the ken of his fellows entirely, and having contrived almost to reach the heart of Asiatic Turkey, the war – which was to drag so many nations into its toils – broke out, and saw the Kaiser's legions overwhelming Belgium, and invading France and Poland.

That Turkey should have been drawn into this conflict was perhaps as much a matter for astonishment to the Turks themselves as to other peoples, for they had, in fact, no grievance against Great Britain or her allies. Indeed, Britain has always befriended the Turk, and done what she could for him; yet late years – those years just prior to the outbreak of this vast war which now tears Europe into pieces – saw what may be termed a revolution in the country of the Sultan. The "Young Turk Party" arose, a party which grew in power – thanks, no doubt, to the scheming help of Germany – till it was able to dethrone the Sultan himself and capture the reins of Government. In the hands of German schemers – the agents of the Kaiser and his war lords – these ambitious young Turks were easily deluded, and, carried away by the successes they had already met with, listened eagerly to the words of the tempters. There was gold to be had in abundance, gold, if the Young Turk Party would but carry out the behests of the German War Lord, if they would but follow a plan which, they were told, would lead not only to their own wealth – for rewards and presents would be poured upon them – but to the greatness of Turkey. War was imminent, they no doubt were informed, and Germany had designs upon the conquest of all nations. Why should Turkey be unfriendly to the Germans? Why should the subjects of the new Sultan fight with the subjects of the Kaiser? There was no desire on the part of the War Lord of Berlin to conquer the dwellers by the Bosphorus, the Turks living in Europe or in Asia, but only the fervent wish to be friendly with them. Then here was the opportunity! Let Turkey side with Germany against France and Russia, and, if need be, against Great Britain; let her close the Dardanelles utterly, and so shut off the Russian enemy from the Mediterranean; and then let her but wait till Germany had broken the fighting forces of France and of the Tsar of Russia; then would come the turn of those Powers in the Balkans – once the subjects of Turkey. Serbia would be overridden, would be decimated, would be stamped out of existence; if need be, Bulgaria, the ancient enemy of Turkey, would be destroyed completely. And then see what would happen! The forces of Germany and of Austria would be linked up with those of the Sultan, and who could stay their progress? With millions of men under arms, with engineers to construct railways throughout Asiatic Turkey, Egypt would be wrested for the Turks from Great Britain – Egypt the heritage of Turkey; Persia could be gained; Afghanistan itself, and even India conquered. Look at the prospect! The eyes of the Young Turk Party were blinded by the brilliance of such a proposition; and for those who were more sagacious, who knew the German to be a schemer, there was gold – gold in abundance – with which to bribe them, gold with which to gild their doubt, and to make them unwilling friends of Germany.

Little wonder, perhaps, that the guileless and inexperienced, if unscrupulous, "Young Turk Party" listened to the crafty words of the Kaiser's agents, and decided to throw in their lot with them. Little wonder that, following upon the outbreak of the war, they welcomed the coming of the Goeben and the Breslau– two of Germany's most powerful vessels – and, having admitted them to the Bosphorus, closed the Dardanelles entirely. Now, see the result of such a movement! In the Black Sea itself the Turks were hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned by the vessels of the Russians – that is, prior to the coming of the Goeben and the Breslau; but now that those two vessels had reached the scene, there was not a vessel in the Tsar's navy capable of easily standing up to them. Those two, with the help of what Turkey could send from her dockyards, might very well clear the Black Sea of all Russian vessels, and make the transport of Turkish troops to Trebizond, and to the frontier lying between Turkey and Russia, along the Caucasus Mountains, a matter of ease and safety. Then the coming of those two powerful vessels would enable the Young Turk Party to reinforce their army in the Caucasus, and, perhaps, to strike a blow there which would cause heavy Russian losses. In any case, a force so disposed would necessitate the placing of Russian armies to oppose them, and Russian armies so withdrawn from the forces of the Tsar would weaken the troops needed to stem the tide of Germans and Austrians then pouring into Poland.

Looked at from every point of view, the coming of Turkey into the conflict was likely to be of enormous advantage to the Kaiser, and of signal disadvantage to Britain and her allies. That it was likely to improve the fortunes of the Turks was problematical only. Indeed, there is little doubt that if Germany had carried out to the full the first portion of her programme, and had shattered the forces of France and of Russia, Turkey would have become merely a puppet in the hands of the Hohenzollerns. Germans would – and may even yet – sweep into Asiatic Turkey, and, had they broken the power of their enemies elsewhere – as fortunately they have not done – the Turks would undoubtedly have become vassals of the Kaiser. As it is, they have thrown in their lot with the Germans, and it would appear as if they were to gain nothing but losses and privations.

But, in any case, they had become enemies of Britain and her allies, and, seeing that Major Joseph Douglas was most decidedly a Briton, they were enemies of his, and he was an alien in the midst of them. Such a well-known person as the Major – for let us say at once that if Major Joseph Douglas was known far and wide in India, a welcome guest in many an officers' mess and in a host of cantonments, he was, in a rather different way, just as well known in the heart of Mesopotamia – was now an alien, an enemy, and must needs look to his own safety.

Douglas Pasha had, in fact, a most uncanny way of eluding the Turkish governors of the various provinces he visited. He came openly to them, and often enough called upon them in the most friendly manner possible, receiving from them the warmest welcome. Yet, under the silken cloak of friendship, and beneath the welcome which every well-bred man extends to another – and your Turk is a gentleman, whatever else you may say of him – there existed always, when Douglas Pasha turned up upon the scene, a feeling of doubt, of hesitancy, almost of danger, in the minds of those Turkish governors. Crafty themselves, they knew well enough that he had come to investigate every feature of the country, to ascertain what Turkish forces were maintained, to map the roads, no doubt, to investigate the progress of such railways as Turkey possessed, and to unearth a hundred different matters. It followed, therefore, often enough, that Douglas Pasha's exit from the palace of a governor was followed, almost automatically, by the dogging of his footsteps. Spies followed him from place to place, spies who watched his every movement like a company of cats; spies whom the cheerful and cunning Douglas Pasha on every occasion managed to elude.

Thus, he was within a few days of the outbreak of war at Bagdad, where news of European matters had not yet reached the populace. Yet the governor knew that war was impending – that Turkish governor upon whom the Major had called that very afternoon, and who had bowed the gallant officer out of his palace, had smiled in such friendly fashion upon him, and who, once his back was turned, had snapped his fingers, had clapped his hands, and had set machinery in motion to have Douglas Pasha followed and watched. Yet, strange as it may seem, Geoff Keith's most excellent guardian was by no means the simpleton he seemed, and by no means ignorant of events then impending.

He strolled down the centre of the Bazaar, a likeable figure in his dust-coloured travelling-suit, a tall, active man, with the face and the bearing of a soldier. He stopped to converse with an Arab dealer in brass-ware, seated cross-legged upon his little stall, and chatted with him as if he were himself a native. Then he passed on to another stall, leaving the Arab, usually so uninterested in the affairs of this world, keenly curious as to the nationality of the stranger who had addressed him. A dozen yards higher up, there was an Armenian Jew selling jewellery, and with him, too, Douglas Pasha chatted in the most pleasant manner and in the Armenian tongue; and then he strolled on for a while, till, noticing the angular figure of a big-boned Jew seated upon another stall, with a mass of embroidery laid out before him, he turned back and strolled towards him.

"Many fine wares to sell, my friend?" he said, addressing him in the Armenian tongue. "Our brother yonder has jewellery beyond compare; but, in truth, these wares that you have to offer would delight the heart of a houri."

Bending down, he picked up one of the gaudily-embroidered pieces of cloth and admired it openly; while the Jew, after answering him in a monosyllable, and casting his eyes up at the Major's face for just one moment, bent them down again upon his goods, as if fearful that someone might filch them from him.

"Fine gold, friend, and stuff woven in the heart of Persia," the Major told him. "And what may be the price of this, my friend?"

As might be expected, the price which this hook-nosed and somewhat ancient Jew set upon the article selected was simply immense, more than treble its actual value. But, then, it is a habit of the East, where a purchase more or less is not a matter of importance, where there is time for everything, and hurry is a thing not to be dreamed of. Shopping in London or in some busy provincial city and shopping at Constantinople or in the Bazaar at Bagdad are two utterly different affairs altogether; the one all haste, intermingled with the most business-like methods, and the other all dilatoriness, with a strong flavour of friendly haggling, when hours must be passed before the price of the simplest object is settled.

"And low in price," the Jew told the Major, glancing cunningly up at him. "Low in price, Excellency, as truly as I sit before you. But wait, there are other goods for sale within this store; be seated, take a post of honour on this bench, and let the youth bring coffee to us."

His bent figure became upright for a moment, and he clapped his hands loudly. At the same instant he swung his eyes round that portion of the Bazaar visible from the stall where he was wont to sit the livelong day, and dropped them instantly. Yet that one glance seemed to have sufficed, for a smile seamed his face for just one second. Then he rapped out a sharp order to the Turkish boy who appeared at his summons, and sat on motionless, without a word, without even venturing to offer more of his wares, till the coffee had been produced and laid before himself and the Major. It was then, as the English officer tipped the tiny egg-shaped cup to his lips, that the eyes of the two met.

"Well!" demanded the Major.

"Excellency, beware! There is news from the outside world," the Jew told him, and then again swept a swift glance round the confines of the Bazaar. "Listen, Excellency!" he said, snatching another piece of embroidered ware and holding it up before the Major, while he made pretence to point to the gilded work upon it; "listen, Excellency! There is war!"

"Ah!" came from the Major.

"War between France and Russia on the one hand and the German enemy on the other."

"And Britain?" asked the Major breathlessly, though to an observer, even more than casual, he seemed to be engaged in most carefully scrutinizing the embroidery. "And Britain?" he asked again. "She – "

"There are things that seem strange to one of us people in this land of Turkey," said the Jew quietly, stretching out a hand to pick up more of his wares. "There is a place, a country, perhaps peopled by a great nation for aught I know, a country known as Belgium. Listen, Excellency! The Germans have invaded that country, have burst their way into it, have fired upon the people, and have killed many of them."

"That means war, war for Great Britain," said the Major, tossing the pieces of cloth down and shaking his head as though he could not agree to purchase them. Then he picked up another piece, and while he scrutinized it told the Jew to go on with the story.

"Proceed!" he said. "Belgium is a country of much importance. Germany had sworn, with Britain and France and other nations, to preserve that country inviolate. Then she has broken her word!"

"As Germans ever break their word," the Armenian Jew told him. "Yes, Excellency, in the years that have gone by, and increasingly so in these last few years, I have met with German after German. In public life I know them not, but in trade, I say, beware of them! They steal behind the scenes, they are mean, and thrifty, and energetic, and possessed of many virtues and many failings. I like them not, and trust them not at all! So, Excellency, they swore to defend this country! And yet tore up that treaty, and poured soldiers upon her? Truly that is an act of baseness seldom heard of."

"And means war for my country," the Major told him. "And then, my friend?" he asked swiftly.

"And then, from the same source, I gather that there is a stir in Constantinople, that there is a great movement of troops and of vessels, and that in a little while, even as we speak, perhaps, Turkey may have joined in with Germany."

If Major Joe Douglas felt inclined to give vent to a shrill whistle of astonishment, for, after all, he was astonished – though this was a happening which he had expected now for many years past – he managed to suppress the wish very promptly. He contrived to go on bargaining and haggling with the old Jew for perhaps half an hour, and then, throwing down another piece of embroidered cloth and shaking his head, he passed from the stall and again along the Bazaar.

Some twenty yards higher up, when near the Turkish portion, he cannoned into a man of moderate height, dressed like himself in European clothing, a fat, very stoutly-built man, possessed of a head so closely cropped that it was hideous, and of a face from which sprouted a greyish-brown moustache, the centre of which was stained a darker colour by much cigarette-smoking. This individual wore a broad-brimmed panama upon his head, as a general rule, but at that moment carried it in one hand, and was fanning himself with energy.

"Pardon!" said the Major. "Sorry!"

"Ach! It vas you!"

Undoubtedly German, the stout individual into whom the Major had cannoned turned at first an angry face upon him, a face which a moment later was lit up by smiles and divided almost asunder by a capacious grin, stretching a most enormous mouth from ear to ear and disclosing two rows of stained and yellow teeth within it. Of a truth, the appearance of this individual was not altogether prepossessing; and yet, putting his yellow teeth aside, forgetting for one moment his huge and unwieldy proportions, and his smooth-cropped head and other undesirable features, the frank expression of his face, the broadness of his grin, even, were at once captivating.

"My tear Major!" he exclaimed, holding one fat hand up, palm foremost, while he still continued to fan himself with his panama. "My tear Major, and who would have thought to meet you here, you of all people!"

"Why, von Hildemaller!"

"Jah! Von Hildemaller! Dis is der greadest bleasure in mein life. Mein tear Major!"

The big, fat German stood back from the tall, sprucely-dressed, and brisk-looking English soldier, and surveyed him with a smile which would have melted the heart of the most implacable of enemies. Von Hildemaller was geniality itself, brimful of smiles and of friendliness; and, having mopped his streaming face and fanned himself again with his panama, he stretched out his broad palm and gripped the one which Major Douglas presented to him.

"My tear Major!" he exclaimed again, puffing heavily, for, to be sure, what with his own stoutness of figure, and the close and confined atmosphere within the Bazaar, the German was none too comfortable. "And to think dat you vas here of all der places in der world!" He held up his two hands now, the better to express his astonishment, while his twinkling and extremely merry eyes shot a swift, if not cunning, glance at the soldier.

"And you vas here long?" he demanded, mopping his face again with energy, and using for that purpose a huge handkerchief of Turkish red silk, which would have done duty at a pinch for a table-cloth. "Nein? Nod long, you say? Perhabs four, five, six days?"

The Major extracted his cigarette case from his pocket and offered it politely to the German, as if hinting at the same moment that questions were hardly to his fancy.

"And you?" he asked when von Hildemaller had helped himself and lighted up. "But there, what is the good of asking you, my friend, von Hildemaller? You are here to-day and gone to-morrow. One finds you in Bagdad perhaps, and then, within a week, in Constantinople; in Kut, or even in Basra. And, ah! you are such a busy man, von Hildemaller. Men, such as you, who purchase in such large quantities the dates grown in this country must be up and about, to make your businesses thrive."

Was there a cunning glint in those rather deep-sunk, small, yet merry eyes of the German? Did those two uneven rows of yellow teeth come together of a sudden with a snap indicative of annoyance? No, no! such a suggestion was entirely out of the question, for see, von Hildemaller was smiling most genially at this tall Briton.

"Ah! der you vas!" he told the Major, laughing uproariously. "It vas you who always liked to make der fun! 'Here do-day and gone do-morrow.' Ha! ha! you make me laugh! And you? And you, my tear Major, id is you who go here do-day and dere do-morrow, and you do nod even buy dades or oder produce of dis country."

Behind the cloud of smoke which he shot from between his thick lips, and sent bubbling out through his discoloured and drooping moustache, there was a cunning leer on the face of the German – a leer hidden a moment later by a smile transcending in its friendliness any that had gone before it. Fanning himself with his panama, and smoking violently the cigarette with which the Major had presented him, he stood in the centre of the Bazaar, careless of the obstruction he formed and of the difficulties he made for the passers-by, while he chatted with Teutonic eagerness with Douglas Pasha. And all the while, as he smiled and smirked, and sometimes leered, behind clouds of smoke, he was summing up the appearance, the height, the broad shoulders, the shapely figure, and the active limbs of the Englishman.

"Mein Gott! But if all my brothers were like him!" he told himself. "If all the subjects of the Kaiser were as tall, and as straight, and as slim, and as active! Then the thing would be done! There would be no doubt about it; the World would be surely conquered! But, pshaw! It will be done! The war-dogs are unleashed already, and though there is not much news as yet, though it is only Belgium which is already almost conquered, to-morrow, the next day perhaps, surely within a few hours of this, there will be news of the undoing of France and the capture of Paris. Himmel! And then?"

This breezy, stout, perspiring, and extremely genial fellow quite lost himself in a brown study as he reflected on the greatness of his own country and on the news of triumph which he anticipated.

Let us explain the case in regard to the jovial von Hildemaller – a man who knew the inside of Mesopotamia almost as well as Douglas Pasha did. After all, though he might be a trader in dates, as indeed he professed, he was still before all a German. A German in heart and in thought; a German, above all, in ambition. Was it likely that he had come to Mesopotamia for the single purpose of trading in dates alone? Bearing in mind the fact that practically no German has left the Fatherland for some foreign country for the single purpose of following his own fortune alone, one may take it for certain that, like all the others, von Hildemaller also went on a mission for his Government. He was one of that enormous band which practised peaceful penetration for the Kaiser, who went armed with Government funds to some desirable spot in some still more desirable country, and who there made for himself a business which gave ample excuse for his remaining in the country. Yet all the while he was engaged, with Teutonic energy, in looking well about him, in discovering the secrets of the country, in ascertaining its defences, and in sending sheaves of notes to his Home Government. Let us say at once that this von Hildemaller was none other than the stout and genial German whom Commander Houston had come upon in Basra – the one whom he had indicated as von Schmidt – and from the gallant Commander we have already learned that, genial, and smiling, and friendly though this German trader might be, and very charming to those with whom he came in contact – whether they were Britons or not – yet behind his guise of merchant he was indeed a Government Agent – an energetic, far-seeing, and most likely an unscrupulous agent – placed in Asiatic Turkey for the one purpose of informing the Kaiser and his war lords of the doings of the Turks, of the British, and of the Russians; and kept there, ostensibly as a merchant, but really as a spy, to foster the ambitious designs of his countrymen.

Did Douglas Pasha suspect this German? Did he realize that behind those smiling eyes and those wide curving lips there was a cunning brain and a lying tongue, ready to deceive and thwart him? If he did, he gave no indication of that fact. For he chatted easily, smiling back at the German in as friendly a manner as possible, apparently watching more closely the people passing to and fro in the Bazaar than the face and the figure of the man who had accosted him. It was with a hearty handshake and a friendly nod that he parted with the German, and went striding up through the Bazaar, past the hook-nosed Jew with whom he had appeared to bargain, and so on to the rooms he was occupying.