Complete works of henryk.., p.620
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz, page 620
The hour was five in the afternoon. The weather was splendid. The sun had already passed on that side of the Nile and declined over the desert, sinking into the golden and purple twilight glowing on the western side of the sky. The atmosphere was so permeated with the roseate luster that the eyes blinked from its superfluity. The fields assumed a lily tint, while the distant sand-hills, strongly relieved against the background of the twilight, had a hue of pure amethyst. The world lost the traits of reality and appeared to be one play of supernal lights.
While they rode over a verdant and cultivated region, the guide, a Bedouin, conducted the caravan with a moderate pace. But with the moment that the hard sand creaked under the feet of the camels, everything changed.
“Yalla! Yalla!” suddenly yelled wild voices.
And simultaneously could be heard the swish of whips and the camels, having changed from an ambling pace into a full gallop, began to speed like the whirlwind, throwing up with their feet the sand and gravel of the desert.
“Yalla! Yalla!”
The ambling pace of a camel jolts more, while the gallop with which this animal seldom runs, swings more; so the children enjoyed this mad ride. But it is known that even in a swing, too much rapid movement causes dizziness. Accordingly, after a certain time, when the speed did not cease, Nell began to get dizzy and her eyes grew dim.
“Stas, why are we flying so?” she exclaimed, turning to her companion.
“I think that they allowed them to get into too much of a gallop and now cannot check them,” answered Stas.
But observing that the little girl’s face was becoming pale, he shouted at the Bedouins, running ahead, to slacken their pace. His calls, however, had only this result: that again resounded the cries of “Yalla,” and the animals increased their speed.
The boy thought at first that the Bedouins did not hear him, but when on his repeated orders there was no response and when Gebhr, who was riding behind him, did not cease lashing the camel on which he sat with Nell, he thought it was not the camels that were so spirited but that the men for some reason unknown to him were in a great hurry.
It occurred to him that they might have taken the wrong road and that, desiring to make up for lost time, they now were speeding from fear that the older gentlemen might scold them because of a late arrival. But after a while he understood that such could not be the case, as Mr. Rawlinson would have been more angered for unnecessarily fatiguing Nell. Then what did it mean? And why did they not obey his commands? In the heart of the boy anger and fear for Nell began to rise.
“Stop!” he shouted with his whole strength, addressing Gebhr.
“Ouskout! (be silent)!” the Sudânese yelled in reply; and they sped on.
In Egypt night falls about six o’clock, so the twilight soon became extinct and after a certain time the great moon, ruddy from the reflection of the twilight, rolled on and illuminated the desert with a gentle light.
In the silence could be heard only the heavy breathing of the camels, the rapid hoof-beats on the sand, and at times the swish of whips. Nell was so tired that Stas had to hold her on the saddle. Every little while she asked how soon they would reach then destination, and evidently was buoyed up only by the hope of an early meeting with her father. But in vain both children gazed around. One hour passed, then another; neither tents nor camp-fires could be seen.
Then the hair rose on Stas’ head, for he realized that they were kidnapped.
VI
Messrs. Rawlinson and Tarkowski actually expected the children, not amidst the sand-hills of Wâdi Rayân, where they had no need or desire to ride, but in an entirely different direction, in the city of El-Fachn on a canal of the same name at which they were examining the work finished before the end of the year. The distance between El-Fachn and Medinet in a straight line is almost twenty-eight miles. As, however, there is no direct connection and it is necessary to ride to El-Wasta, which doubles the distance, Mr. Rawlinson, after looking over the railway guide, made the following calculations.
“Chamis left the night before last,” he said to Pan Tarkowski, “and in El-Wasta he caught the train from Cairo; he was therefore in Medinet yesterday. It would take an hour to pack up. Leaving at noon they would have to wait for the night train running along the Nile, and as I do not permit Nell to ride at night, they would leave this morning and will be here immediately after sunset.”
“Yes,” said Pan Tarkowski, “Chamis must rest a little, and though Stas is indeed impulsive, nevertheless, where Nell is concerned you may always depend upon him. Moreover, I sent him a postal card not to ride during the night.”
“A brave lad, and I trust him,” answered Mr. Rawlinson.
“To tell the truth, so do I. Stas with his various faults has an upright character and never lies, for he is brave, and only a coward lies. He also does not lack energy and if in time he acquires a calm judgment, I think he will be able to take care of himself in this world.”
“Certainly. As to judgment, were you judicious at his age?”
“I must confess that I was not,” replied Pan Tarkowski, laughing, “but I was not so self-confident as he.”
“That will pass. Meanwhile, be happy that you have such a boy.”
“And you that you have such a sweet and dear creature as Nell.”
“May God bless her!” answered Mr. Rawlinson with emotion.
The two friends warmly shook hands, after which they sat down to examine the plans and the report of expenditures connected with the work. At this occupation the time passed until evening.
About six o’clock, when night fell, they were at the station, strolling along the walk, and resumed their conversation about the children.
“Superb weather, but cool,” said Mr. Rawlinson. “I wonder if Nell took some warm clothing with her.”
“Stas will think of that, and Dinah also.”
“I regret, nevertheless, that instead of bringing them here, we did not go to Medinet.”
“You will recollect that that is just what I advised.”
“I know, and if it were not that we are to go from here farther south, I would have agreed. I calculated, however, that the trip would take too much time and on the whole it would be best to have the children here. Finally, I will confess to you that Chamis suggested the idea to me. He announced that he prodigiously yearned for them and would be happy if I sent for both. I am not surprised that he should be so attached to them.”
Further conversation was interrupted by signals announcing the approach of the train. After an interval the fiery eyes of the locomotive appeared in the darkness, and at the same time could be heard its puffs and whistle.
A row of lighted coaches drew alongside the platform, quivered, and stood still.
“I did not see them in any window,” said Mr. Rawlinson.
“Perhaps they are seated further inside and surely will come out immediately.”
The passengers began to alight, but they were mainly Arabs, as El-Fachn has nothing interesting to see except beautiful groves of palms and acacias. The children did not arrive.
“Chamis either did not make connections in El-Wasta,” declared Pan Tarkowski, with a shade of ill-humor, “or after a night of travel overslept himself, and they will not arrive until to-morrow.”
“That may be,” answered Mr. Rawlinson, with uneasiness, “but it also may be possible that one of them is sick.”
“In that case Stas would have telegraphed.”
“Who knows but that we may find a despatch in the hotel?”
“Let us go.”
But in the hotel no news awaited them. Mr. Rawlinson became more and more uneasy.
“What do you think could have happened?” said Pan Tarkowski. “If Chamis overslept himself, he would not admit it to the children and would come to them to-day and tell them that they are to leave to-morrow. To us he will excuse himself by claiming that he misunderstood our orders. In any event, I shall telegraph to Stas.”
“And I to the Mudir of Fayûm.”
After a while the despatches were sent. There was indeed no cause for uneasiness; nevertheless, in waiting for an answer the engineers passed a bad night, and early morning found them on their feet.
The answer from the Mudir came about ten o’clock and was as follows:
“Verified at station. Children left yesterday for Gharak el-Sultani.”
It can easily be understood what amazement and anger possessed the parents at this unexpected intelligence. For some time they gazed at each other, as if they did not understand the words of the despatch; after which Pan Tarkowski, who was an impulsive person, struck the table with his hand and said:
“That was Stas’ whim, but I will cure him of such whims.”
“I did not expect that of him,” answered Nell’s father.
But after a moment he asked:
“But what of Chamis?”
“He either did not find them and does not know what to do or else rode after them.”
“Yes, I think so.”
An hour later they started for Medinet. In camp they ascertained that the camels were gone, and at the station it was confirmed that Chamis left with the children for El-Gharak. The affair became darker and darker and it could be cleared up only in El-Gharak.
In fact, only at that station did the dreadful truth begin to dawn.
The station-master, the same sleepy one with dark spectacles and red fez, told them that he saw a boy about fourteen years old and an eight-year-old girl with an old negress, who rode towards the desert. He did not remember whether there were eight or nine camels altogether, but observed that one was heavily packed as if for a long journey, and the two Bedouins also had big pack-saddles. He recollected also that when he stared at the caravan one of the camel drivers, a Sudânese, said to him that those were the children of the Englishmen who before that had gone to Wâdi Rayân.
“Did those Englishmen return?” asked Pan Tarkowski.
“Yes. They returned yesterday with two slain wolves,” answered the station-master; “and I was astonished that they did not return with the children. But I did not ask the reason as that was not my affair.”
Saying this he left to attend to his duties.
During this narrative Mr. Rawlinson’s face became white as paper. Gazing at his friend with a wild look, he took off his hat, pressed his hand to his forehead, covered with perspiration, and staggered as if he were about to fall.
“Be a man, Rawlinson!” exclaimed Pan Tarkowski. “Our children are kidnapped. It is necessary to rescue them.”
“Nell! Nell!” repeated the unhappy Englishman.
“Nell and Stas! It was not Stas’ fault. Both were enticed by trickery and kidnapped. Who knows why? Perhaps for a ransom. Chamis undoubtedly is in the plot, and Idris and Gebhr also.”
Here he recalled what Fatma had said about both Sudânese belonging to the Dongolese tribe, in which the Mahdi was born, and that Chadigi, the father of Chamis, came from the same tribe. At this recollection his heart for a moment became inert in his breast for he understood that the children were abducted not for a ransom but as an exchange for Smain’s family.
“But what will the tribesmen of the ill-omened prophet do with them? They cannot hide them on the desert or anywhere on the banks of the Nile, for they all would die of hunger and thirst on the desert, and they certainly would be apprehended on the Nile. Perhaps they will try to join the Mahdi.”
And this thought filled Pan Tarkowski with dismay, but the energetic ex-soldier soon recovered and began in his mind to review all that happened and at the same time seek means of rescue.
“Fatma,” he reasoned, “had no cause to revenge herself either upon us or our children. If they have been kidnapped it was evidently for the purpose of placing them in the hands of Smain. In no case does death threaten them. And this is a fortune in misfortune; still a terrible journey awaits them which might be disastrous for them.”
And at once he shared these thoughts with his friend, after which he spoke thus:
“Idris and Gebhr, like savage and foolish men, imagine that followers of the Mahdi are not far, while Khartûm, which the Mahdi reached, is about one thousand two hundred and forty miles from here. This journey they must make along the Nile and not keep at a distance from it as otherwise the camels and people would perish from thirst. Ride at once to Cairo and demand of the Khedive that despatches be sent to all the military outposts and that a pursuit be organized right and left along the river. Offer a large reward to the sheiks near the banks for the capture of the fugitives. In the villages let all be detained who approach for water. In this manner Idris and Gebhr must fall into the hands of the authorities and we shall recover the children.”
Mr. Rawlinson had already recovered his composure.
“I shall go,” he said. “Those miscreants forgot that Wolseley’s English army, hurrying to Gordon’s relief, is already on the way and will cut them off from the Mahdi. They will not escape. They cannot escape. I shall send a despatch to our minister in a moment, and afterwards go myself. What do you intend to do?”
“I shall telegraph for a furlough, and not waiting for an answer, shall follow then trail by way of the Nile to Nubia, to attend to the pursuit.”
“Then we shall meet, as from Cairo I shall do the same.”
“Good! And now to work!”
“With God’s help!” answered Mr. Rawlinson.
VII
In the meantime the camels swept like a hurricane over the sands glistening in the moonlight. A deep night fell. The moon, at the beginning as big as a wheel and ruddy, became pale and rolled on high. The distant desert hills were enveloped with silvery vapors like muslin which, not veiling their view, transformed them as if into luminous phenomena. From time to time from beyond the rocks scattered here and there came the piteous whining of jackals.
Another hour passed. Stas held Nell in his arms and supported her, endeavoring in this way to allay the fatiguing jolts of the mad ride. The little girl began more and more frequently to ask him why they were speeding so and why they did not see the tents and their papas. Stas finally determined to tell her the truth, which sooner or later he would have to disclose.
“Nell,” he said, “pull off a glove and drop it, unobserved, on the ground.”
“Why, Stas?”
And he pressed her to himself and answered with a kind of tenderness unusual to him:
“Do what I tell you.”
Nell held Stas with one hand and feared to let him go, but she overcame the difficulty in this manner: she began to pull the glove with her teeth, each finger separately, and, finally taking it off entirely, she dropped it on the ground.
“After a time, throw the other,” again spoke Stas. “I already have dropped mine, but yours will be easier to observe for they are bright.”
And observing that the little girl gazed at him with an inquiring look, he continued:
“Don’t get frightened, Nell. It may be that we will not meet your or my father at all — and that these foul people have kidnapped us. But don’t fear — for if it is so, then pursuers will follow them. They will overtake them and surely rescue us. I told you to drop the gloves so that the pursuers may find clews. In the meanwhile we can do nothing, but later I shall contrive something — Surely, I shall contrive something; only do not fear, and trust me.”
But Nell, learning that she should not see her papa and that they are flying somewhere, far in the desert, began to tremble from fright and cry, clinging at the same time close to Stas and asking him amid her sobs why they kidnapped them and where they were taking them. He comforted her as well as he could — almost in the same words with which his father comforted Mr. Rawlinson. He said that their parents themselves would follow in pursuit and would notify all the garrisons along the Nile. In the end he assured her that whatever might happen, he would never abandon her and would always defend her.
But her grief and longing for her father were stronger even than fear; so for a long time she did not cease to weep — and thus they flew, both sad, on a bright night, over the pale sands of the desert.
Sorrow and fear not only oppressed Stas’ heart, but also shame. He was not indeed to blame for what had happened, yet he recalled the former boastfulness for which his father so often had rebuked him. Formerly he was convinced that there was no situation to which he was not equal; he considered himself a kind of unvanquished swashbuckler, and was ready to challenge the whole world. Now he understood that he was a small boy, with whom everybody could do as he pleased, and that he was speeding in spite, of his will on a camel merely because that camel was driven from behind by a half-savage Sudânese. He felt terribly humiliated and did not see any way of resisting. He had to admit to himself that he plainly feared those men and the desert, and what he and Nell might meet.
He promised sincerely not only to her but to himself that he would watch over and defend her even at the cost of his own life.
Nell, weary with weeping and the mad ride, which had lasted already six hours, finally began to doze, and at times fell asleep. Stas, knowing that whoever fell from a galloping camel might be killed on the spot, tied her to himself with a rope which he found on the saddle. But after some time it seemed to him that the speed of the camels became less rapid, though now they flew over smooth and soft sands. In the distance could be seen only the shifting hills, while on the plain began the nocturnal illusions common to the desert. The moon shone in the heaven more and more palely and in the meantime there appeared before them, creeping low, strange rosy clouds, entirely transparent, woven only from light. They formed mysteriously and moved ahead as if pushed by the light breeze. Stas saw how the burnooses of the Bedouins and the camels became roseate when they rode into that illuminated space, and afterwards the whole caravan was enveloped in a delicate, rosy luster. At times the clouds assumed an azure hue and thus it continued until the hills were reached.
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