Chapter 57 - The Boy Slaves by Mayne Reid
A CALL FOR TWO MORE
The sufferings of the slaves for water and food again commenced, while the pace at which they were compelled to travel, to keep up with the camels, soon exhausted the little strength they had acquired from the rest by the well.
During the long afternoon following the burial of the two Arabs, each of the boy slaves at different times declared his utter inability to proceed any farther.
They were mistaken; and had yet to learn something of the power which love of life exerts over the body.
They knew that to linger behind would be death. They did not desire to die, and therefore struggled on.
Like men upon a treadmill, they were compelled to keep on moving, although neither able nor willing.
The hour of sunset found them wading through sand that had lately been stirred by a storm. It was nearly as light and loose as snow; and the toil of moving through it was so wearisome, that the mounted Arabs, having some pity on those who had walked, halted early for the night. Two men were appointed to guard the camp in the same manner as upon the night before; and with the feelings of hunger and thirst partly appeased, weary with the toils of day, our adventurers were soon in a sound slumber. Around them, and half-buried in the soft sand, lay stretched the other denizens of the douar, all slumbering likewise.
Their rest remained undisturbed until that darkest hour of the night, just before the dawning of day. They were then startled from sleep by the report of a musket,—a report that was immediately followed by another in the opposite direction. The douar was instantly in wild confusion.
The Arabs seized their weapons, and rushed forth from among the tents.
One of the party that ran in the direction in which the first shot was heard, seeing a man coming towards them, in the excitement of the moment fired his musket, and shot the individual who was advancing, who proved to be one of those entrusted with the guard of the camp.
No enemies could be discovered. They had fled, leaving the two camp-guards in the agonies of death.
Some of the Arabs would have rushed wildly hither and thither, in search of the unseen foe, but were prevented by the sheik, who, fearing that all would be lost, should the douar be deserted by the armed men, shouted the signal for all his followers to gather around him.
The two wounded men were brought into a tent, where, in a few minutes, one of them—the man who had been shot by one of his companions—breathed his last. He had also received a wound from the first shot that had been heard, his right arm having been shattered by a musket-ball.
The spine of the other guard had been broken by a bullet, so that recovery was clearly impossible.
He had evidently heard the first shot fired at his companion from the opposite side of the camp: and was turning his back upon the foe that had attacked himself.
The light of day soon shone upon the scene, and they were able to perceive how their enemies had approached so near the camp without being observed.
About a hundred paces from where the guards had been standing at the time the first two shots were fired, was a furrow or ravine running through the soft sand.
This ravine branched into two lesser ones, including within their angle the Arab camp, as also the sentinels stationed to guard it.
Up the branches the midnight murderers had silently stolen, each taking a side; and in this way had got within easy distance of the unsuspecting sentries.
In the bottom of one of the furrows, where the sand was more firmly compacted, was found the impression of human footsteps.
The tracks had been made by some person hurriedly leaving the spot.
"Dis be de track ob Golah," said the Krooman to Harry, after he had examined it. "He made um when runnin' 'way after he fire da musket."
"Very likely," said Harry; "but how do you know it is Golah's track?"
"'Cause Golah hab largess feet in all de world, and no feet but his make dat mark."
"I tell you again," said Terence, who overheard the Krooman's remark, "we shall have to go with Golah to Timbuctoo. We belong to him. These Arabs are only keeping us for a few days, but they will all be killed yet, and we shall have to follow the black sheik in the opposite direction."
Harry made no reply to this prophetic speech. Certainly, there was a prospect of its proving true.
Four Arabs out of the eleven of which their party was originally composed, were already dead, while still another was dying!
Sailor Bill pronounced Golah, with his son and brother-in-law, quite a match for the six who were left. The black sheik, he thought, was equal to any four of their present masters in strength, cunning, and determination.
"But the Arabs have us to help them," remarked Colin. "We should count for something."
"So we do,—as merchandise," replied Harry; "we have hitherto been helpless as children in protecting ourselves. What can we do? The boasted superiority of our race or country cannot be true here in the desert. We are out of our element."
"Yes, that's sartain!" exclaimed Bill; "but we're not far from it. Shiver my timbers if I don't smell salt water. Be Jabers! if we go on towards the west we shall see the say afore night."
During this dialogue the Arabs were holding a consultation as to what they should do.
To divide the camp, and send some after their enemies, was pronounced impolitic: the party sent in pursuit, and that left to guard the caravan,—either would be too weak if attacked by their truculent enemy.
In union alone was strength, and they resolved to remain together, believing that they should have a visit from Golah again, while better prepared to receive him.
The footprints leading out from the two ravines were traced for about a mile in the direction they wished to follow.
The tracks of camels and horses were there found; and they could tell by the signs that their enemies had mounted and ridden off towards the west.
They possibly might have avoided meeting Golah again by going eastward; but, from their knowledge of the desert, no water was to be found in that direction in less than five days' journey.
Moreover, they did not yet wish to avoid him. They thirsted for revenge, and were impatient to move on; for a journey of two days was still before them before they could hope to arrive at the nearest water.
When every preparation had been made to resume their route, there was one obstacle in the way of their taking an immediate departure.
Their wounded companion was not yet defunct. They saw it would be impossible for him to live much longer; for the lower part of his body,—all below the shattered portion of the spine,—appeared already without life. A few hours at most would terminate his sufferings; but for the expiration of those few hours,—or minutes, as fate should decide,—his companions seemed unwilling to wait!
They dug a hole in the sand near where the wounded man was lying. This was but the work of a few minutes. As soon as the grave was completed, the eyes of all were once more turned upon the wretched sufferer.
He was still alive, and by piteous moans expressing the agony he was enduring.
"Bismillah!" exclaimed the old sheik, "why do you not die, my friend? We are waiting for the fulfilment of your destiny."
"I am dead," ejaculated the sufferer, speaking in a faint voice, and apparently with great difficulty.
Having said this, he relapsed into silence, and remained motionless as a corpse.
The sheik then placed one hand upon his temples. "Yes!" he exclaimed, "the words of our friend are those of truth and wisdom. He is dead."
The wounded man was then rolled into the cavity which had been scooped out, and they hastily proceeded to cover him with sand.
As they did so, his hands were repeatedly uplifted, while a low moaning came from his lips; but his movements were apparently unseen, and his cries of agony unnoticed!
His companions remained both deaf and blind to any evidence that might refute his own assertion that he was dead.
The sand was at length heaped up, so as completely to cover his body, when, by an order from the old sheik, his followers turned away from the spot and the Kafila moved on.