P. C. Wren - The Collected Works of P. C. Wren - Complete Beau Geste Series, Novels & Short Stories

" The Sons of the Prophet are hardy and bold, And quite unaccustomed to fear; But of all--the most reckless of life and of limb, Was Abdul the Bul-bul Emir! . . . When they wanted a man to encourage the van, Or to shout 'Attaboy!' in the rear, Or to storm a redoubt, They always sent out For Abdul the Bul-bul Emir! For Abdul the Bul-bul Emir! "

The Arabs stared, almost open-mouthed, and I explained that after-dinner singing was a custom with the Roumis and that the song, out of compliment to our hosts, described the greatness, wisdom, virtue, and courage of another famous Emir.

When we were at last permitted to cease from eating, and white-clad servants removed the remains of the diffa , the Emir bade me request Mary Vanbrugh to talk of her country and her home, that I might translate her words to him.

He then asked many questions through me.

Thereafter he directed that Maudie should talk.

But having almost realized the ambition of her life, Maudie was shy and could only stammer incoherently while gazing bright-eyed, flushed, with parted lips and quickened breathing, at the huge, handsome, and gorgeously arrayed Emir.

The Vizier, the Sheikh el Habibka, scarcely uttered a word the whole evening, but he hardly took his eyes from Miss Vanbrugh's face.

In the bad moments to which I have alluded, I felt that if the worst came to the worst, Maudie would be imprisoned in the Emir's hareem , and Mary in that of this Sheikh el Habibka--unless the Emir took them both. . . .

The sooner I could dangle before their eyes the million francs and the enormous advantages of an entente and an alliance with France, the better it would be; and the less they saw of the girls the better it would be also. . . .

"Well, Major, it's time you went to bed," said Mary. "Remember you're a sick man!"

"We can't move till the Emir gives the hint," I replied.

"Well, I wish he'd do it, the great old coot. Tell him what I'm saying, Major--that he fancies he's some punkins, but he's not the perfect little gentleman he thinks he is, or he'd see I'm tired to death," and she yawned heavily. . . .

Luckily the Emir shortly afterwards suggested that we might be weary, and though I told him that no one could be weary in his presence, he hinted that he was so in mine.

The leave-taking made it clear that Maudie's hand delighted the Emir, while that of Mary was precious in the sight of the Sheikh el Habibka. There was a look of determination in that man's eye. . . .

As we entered the Guest-tent I said to Miss Vanbrugh, "Scream if there's any trouble in the night."

"Scream? I shall shoot . Let the 'trouble' do the screaming. Good night, Major," was this independent and courageous young lady's reply.

§ 4

The next day I had an interview with the Emir, in the presence, as always, of the Vizier, and, after infinite meanderings around all subjects but the real one, we came to it at last.

I made it clear that what I offered him was the friendship of a most powerful protector, great wealth, and all the advantages that would ensue if a caravan-road were made and guarded from the Great Oasis to Zaguig, and trade-relations opened up between his people and the North.

I glanced at the possibility of our supplying him with arms, including machine-guns and, possibly, light artillery--later on.

I grew eloquent in showing him how the friendship of France could raise him to a safe independence, and how, in the rôle of protégé of France, he could benefit his people and give them the blessings of civilization.

The Emir repeated my phrase, but with a peculiar intonation.

"The blessings of civilization!" he mused. "Drink. . . . Disease. . . . Unrest. . . . Machine-guns. . . . Has the civilization of the Roumis always proved such a blessing to the darker races who have come in contact with it?"

The two stroked their beards, and eyed me long and thoughtfully. I assured the Emir that it would be in his power to pick and choose. Isolated as his people were, there need be no "contact." All France wanted was his friendship.

Provided he were loyal and kept the terms of the treaty exactly, he could use the subsidy as he pleased, and could discriminate between the curses and the real blessings of western civilization.

Surely he could see to it that only good ensued? Nothing was farther from the thoughts of the French Government than interference--much less conquest, or even "peaceful penetration." All we asked was that the Confederation which he ruled should be a source of strength and not of weakness to us--that the Great Oasis should be an outpost of France in the hands of the Emir el Hamel el Kebir. . . . And I hinted at his own danger from others who would not come to him thus, with offers of gold and protection, but with armies. . . .

"We will talk of these matters again," said the Emir at length. " Khallas! It is finished. . . ."

That evening, a riding-party was arranged, and, mounted on beautiful horses, the Sheikh el Habibka and Miss Vanbrugh rode together; the Emir, on a white camel, rode with Maudie--who, very wisely, would not get on a horse; and I rode with a party of fine courteous Arabs who were minor sheikhs, officers of the soldiery, councillors, friends and hangers-on of the Emir and the Vizier.

We rode through the oasis out into the desert.

I did not enjoy my ride, for, before very long, I lost sight of the two girls, and could only hope for the best while fearing the worst. . . . Women are so attracted by externals and so easily deceived by a courteous and gallant manner.

One comfort was that neither girl could speak a word of Arabic, so there was nothing to fear from plausible tongues.

Any love-making would have to be done in dumb-show, and I was beginning to feel that there was no likelihood of force majeure --both men giving me the impression of innate gentlemanliness and decency.

Still--Arabs are Arabs and this was the Sahara--and, as I noted that the Emir returned with Miss Vanbrugh and the Vizier with Maud, I wanted nothing so much as to get safely away with my women-folk and a signed treaty of alliance.

* * *

But this was just what I could not do.

Time after time, I sought audience with the Emir, only to find that he was engaged or sleeping or busy or absent from the Oasis.

Time after time, when his guest at meat, riding, or faddhling with him on the rug-strewn carpet before the pavilions, I tried to get him to discuss the object of my visit--but in vain.

Always it was, "We will talk of it to-morrow, Inshallah ."

His eternal " Bokra! Bokra! " was as bad as the mañana of the Spaniards. And "to-morrow" never came. . . .

The return of Marbruk ben Hassan and his camel-squadron brought me news that depressed me to the depths and darkened my life for days. I was given understanding of the expression "a broken heart." . . .

Evidently my heroes had fought to their last cartridge and had then been overwhelmed. Beneath a great cairn of stones, Marbruk and his men had buried the tortured, defiled, mangled remains of Dufour, Achmet and Djikki.

It was plain to me that Suleiman had deserted, for the parts of only three corpses were found, and the track of a single camel fleeing south-eastward from the spot.

That he had not fought to the last, and then escaped or been captured alive by the Touareg, was shown by the fact that, where he had lain, there were but few empty cartridge-cases, compared with the number lying where my men had died; and by the fact of the track of the fleeing camel.

I retired to my tent, saying I wished to see no one for a day, and that I wanted no food.