CHAPTER XXIX
COLONEL TRENCH ASSUMES A KNOWLEDGE OF CHEMISTRY
"Three more days." Both men fell asleep with these words upon theirlips. But the next morning Trench waked up and complained of a fever;and the fever rapidly gained upon him, so that before the afternoon hadcome he was light-headed, and those services which he had performed forFeversham, Feversham had now to perform for him. The thousand nights ofthe House of Stone had done their work. But it was no mere coincidencethat Trench should suddenly be struck down by them at the very momentwhen the door of his prison was opening. The great revulsion of joywhich had come to him so unexpectedly had been too much for hisexhausted body. The actual prospect of escape had been the crowningtrial which he could not endure.
"In a few days he will be well," said Feversham. "It is nothing."
"It is _Umm Sabbah_," answered Ibrahim, shaking his head, the terribletyphus fever which had struck down so many in that infected gaol andcarried them off upon the seventh day.
Feversham refused to believe. "It is nothing," he repeated in a sort ofpassionate obstinacy; but in his mind there ran another question, "Willthe men with the camels wait?" Each day as he went to the Nile he sawAbou Fatma in the blue robe at his post; each day the man made his sign,and each day Feversham gave no answer. Meanwhile with Ibrahim's help henursed Trench. The boy came daily to the prison with food; he was sentout to buy tamarinds, dates, and roots, out of which Ibrahim brewedcooling draughts. Together they carried Trench from shade to shade asthe sun moved across the zareeba. Some further assistance was providedfor the starving family of Idris, and the forty-pound chains whichTrench wore were consequently removed. He was given vegetable marrowsoaked in salt water, his mouth was packed with butter, his bodyanointed and wrapped close in camel-cloths. The fever took its course,and on the seventh day Ibrahim said:--
"This is the last. To-night he will die."
"No," replied Feversham, "that is impossible. 'In his own parish,' hesaid, 'beneath the trees he knew.' Not here, no." And he spoke againwith a passionate obstinacy. He was no longer thinking of the man in theblue robe outside the prison walls, or of the chances of escape. Thefear that the third feather would never be brought back to Ethne, thatshe would never have the opportunity to take back the fourth of her ownfree will, no longer troubled him. Even that great hope of "theafterwards" was for the moment banished from his mind. He thought onlyof Trench and the few awkward words he had spoken in the corner of thezareeba on the first night when they lay side by side under the sky."No," he repeated, "he must not die here." And through all that day andnight he watched by Trench's side the long hard battle between life anddeath. At one moment it seemed that the three years of the House ofStone must win the victory, at another that Trench's strong constitutionand wiry frame would get the better of the three years.
For that night, at all events, they did, and the struggle was prolonged.The dangerous seventh day was passed. Even Ibrahim began to gain hope;and on the thirteenth day Trench slept and did not ramble during hissleep, and when he waked it was with a clear head. He found himselfalone, and so swathed in camel-cloths that he could not stir; but theheat of the day was past, and the shadow of the House of Stone lay blackupon the sand of the zareeba. He had not any wish to stir, and he laywondering idly how long he had been ill. While he wondered he heard theshouts of the gaolers, the cries of the prisoners outside the zareebaand in the direction of the river. The gate was opened, and theprisoners flocked in. Feversham was among them, and he walked straightto Trench's corner.
"Thank God!" he cried. "I would not have left you, but I was compelled.We have been unloading boats all day." And he dropped in fatigue byTrench's side.
"How long have I lain ill?" asked Trench.
"Thirteen days."
"It will be a month before I can travel. You must go, Feversham. Youmust leave me here, and go while you still can. Perhaps when you come toAssouan you can do something for me. I could not move at present. Youwill go to-morrow?"
"No, I should not go without you in any case," answered Feversham. "Asit is, it is too late."
"Too late?" Trench repeated. He took in the meaning of the words butslowly; he was almost reluctant to be disturbed by their mere sound; hewished just to lie idle for a long time in the cool of the sunset. Butgradually the import of what Feversham had said forced itself into hismind.
"Too late? Then the man in the blue gown has gone?"
"Yes. He spoke to me yesterday by the river. The camel men would wait nolonger. They were afraid of detection, and meant to return whether wewent with them or not."
"You should have gone with them," said Trench. For himself he did not atthat moment care whether he was to live in the prison all his life, solong as he was allowed quietly to lie where he was for a long time; andit was without any expression of despair that he added, "So our onechance is lost."
"No, deferred," replied Feversham. "The man who watched by the river inthe blue gown brought me paper, a pen, and some wood-soot mixed withwater. He was able to drop them by my side as I lay upon the ground. Ihid them beneath my jibbeh, and last night--there was a moon lastnight--I wrote to a Greek merchant who keeps a _cafe_ at Wadi Halfa. Igave him the letter this afternoon, and he has gone. He will deliver itand receive money. In six months, in a year at the latest, he will beback in Omdurman."
"Very likely," said Trench. "He will ask for another letter, so that hemay receive more money, and again he will say that in six months or ayear he will be back in Omdurman. I know these people."
"You do not know Abou Fatma. He was Gordon's servant over there beforeKhartum fell; he has been mine since. He came with me to Obak, andwaited there while I went down to Berber. He risked his life in comingto Omdurman at all. Within six months he will be back, you may be verysure."
Trench did not continue the argument. He let his eyes wander about theenclosure, and they settled at last upon a pile of newly turned earthwhich lay in one corner.
"What are they digging?" he asked.
"A well," answered Feversham.
"A well?" said Trench, fretfully, "and so close to the Nile! Why? What'sthe object?"
"I don't know," said Feversham. Indeed he did not know, but hesuspected. With a great fear at his heart he suspected the reason whythe well was being dug in the enclosure of the prison. He would not,however, reveal his suspicion until his companion was strong enough tobear the disappointment which belief in it would entail. But within afew days his suspicion was proved true. It was openly announced that ahigh wall was to be built about the House of Stone. Too many prisonershad escaped in their fetters along the Nile bank. Henceforward they wereto be kept from year's beginning to year's end within the wall. Theprisoners built it themselves of mud-bricks dried in the sun. Fevershamtook his share in the work, and Trench, as soon almost as he couldstand, was joined with him.
"Here's our last hope gone," he said; and though Feversham did notopenly agree, in spite of himself his heart began to consent.
They piled the bricks one upon the other and mortised them. Each day thewall rose a foot. With their own hands they closed themselves in. Twelvefeet high the wall stood when they had finished it--twelve feet high,and smooth and strong. There was never a projection from its surface onwhich a foot could rest; it could not be broken through in a night.Trench and Feversham contemplated it in despair. The very palm trees ofKhartum were now hidden from their eyes. A square of bright blue by day,a square of dark blue by night, jewelled with points of silver andflashing gold, limited their world. Trench covered his face with hishands.
"I daren't look at it," he said in a broken voice. "We have beenbuilding our own coffin, Feversham, that's the truth of it." And then hecast up his arms and cried aloud: "Will they never come up the Nile, thegunboats and the soldiers? Have they forgotten us in England? Good God!have they forgotten us?"
"Hush!" replied Feversham. "We shall find a way of escape, never fear.We must wait six months. Well, we have both of us waited years. Sixmonths
,--what are they?"
But, though he spoke stoutly for his comrade's sake, his own heart sankwithin him.
The details of their life during the six months are not to be dweltupon. In that pestilent enclosure only the myriad vermin lived lives ofcomfort. No news filtered in from the world outside. They fed upontheir own thoughts, so that the sight of a lizard upon the wall becamean occasion for excitement. They were stung by scorpions at night; theywere at times flogged by their gaolers by day. They lived at the mercyof the whims of Idris-es-Saier and that peculiar spirit Nebbi Khiddr,who always reported against them to the Khalifa just at the moment whenIdris was most in need of money for his starving family. Religious menwere sent by the Khalifa to convert them to the only true religion; andindeed the long theological disputations in the enclosure became eventsto which both men looked forward with eagerness. At one time they wouldbe freed from the heavier shackles and allowed to sleep in the open; atanother, without reason, those privileges would be withdrawn, and theystruggled for their lives within the House of Stone.
The six months came to an end. The seventh began; a fortnight of itpassed, and the boy who brought Feversham food could never cheer theirhearts with word that Abou Fatma had come back.
"He will never come," said Trench, in despair.
"Surely he will--if he is alive," said Feversham. "But is he alive?"
The seventh month passed, and one morning at the beginning of the eighththere came two of the Khalifa's bodyguard to the prison, who talked withIdris. Idris advanced to the two prisoners.
"Verily God is good to you, you men from the bad world," he said. "Youare to look upon the countenance of the Khalifa. How happy you shouldbe!"
Trench and Feversham rose up from the ground in no very happy frame ofmind. "What does he want with us? Is this the end?" The questionsstarted up clear in both their minds. They followed the two guards outthrough the door and up the street towards the Khalifa's house.
"Does it mean death?" said Feversham.
Trench shrugged his shoulders and laughed sourly. "It is on the cardsthat Nebbi Khiddr has suggested something of the kind," he said.
They were led into the great parade-ground before the mosque, and thenceinto the Khalifa's house, where another white man sat in attendance uponthe threshold. Within the Khalifa was seated upon an angareb, and agrey-bearded Greek stood beside him. The Khalifa remarked to them thatthey were both to be employed upon the manufacture of gunpowder, withwhich the armies of the Turks were shortly to be overwhelmed.
Feversham was on the point of disclaiming any knowledge of the process,but before he could open his lips he heard Trench declaring in fluentArabic that there was nothing connected with gunpowder which he did notknow about; and upon his words they were both told they were to beemployed at the powder factory under the supervision of the Greek.
For that Greek both prisoners will entertain a regard to their dyingday. There was in the world a true Samaritan. It was out of sheer pity,knowing the two men to be herded in the House of Stone, that hesuggested to the Khalifa their employment, and the same pity taught himto cover the deficiencies of their knowledge.
"I know nothing whatever about the making of gunpowder except thatcrystals are used," said Trench. "But we shall leave the prison eachday, and that is something, though we return each night. Who knows whena chance of escape may come?"
The powder factory lay in the northward part of the town, and on thebank of the Nile just beyond the limits of the great mud wall and at theback of the slave market. Every morning the two prisoners were let outfrom the prison door, they tramped along the river-bank on the outsideof the town wall, and came into the powder factory past the storehousesof the Khalifa's bodyguard. Every evening they went back by the sameroad to the House of Stone. No guard was sent with them, since flightseemed impossible, and each journey that they made they looked anxiouslyfor the man in the blue robe. But the months passed, and May broughtwith it the summer.
"Something has happened to Abou Fatma," said Feversham. "He has beencaught at Berber perhaps. In some way he has been delayed."
"He will not come," said Trench.
Feversham could no longer pretend to hope that he would. He did not knowof a sword-thrust received by Abou Fatma, as he fled through Berber onhis return from Omdurman. He had been recognised by one of his oldgaolers in that town, and had got cheaply off with the one thrust in histhigh. From that wound he had through the greater part of this year beenslowly recovering in the hospital at Assouan. But though Feversham heardnothing of Abou Fatma, towards the end of May he received news thatothers were working for his escape. As Trench and he passed in the duskof one evening between the storehouses and the town wall, a man in theshadow of one of the narrow alleys which opened from the storehouseswhispered to them to stop. Trench knelt down upon the ground andexamined his foot as though a stone had cut it, and as he kneeled theman walked past them and dropped a slip of paper at their feet. He was aSuakin merchant, who had a booth in the grain market of Omdurman. Trenchpicked up the paper, hid it in his hand and limped on, with Feversham athis side. There was no address or name upon the outside, and as soon asthey had left the houses behind, and had only the wall upon their rightand the Nile upon their left, Trench sat down again. There was a crowdabout the water's edge, men passed up and down between the crowd andthem. Trench took his foot into his lap and examined the sole. But atthe same time he unfolded the paper in the hollow of his hand and readthe contents aloud. He could hardly read them, his voice so trembled.Feversham could hardly hear them, the blood so sang in his ears.
"A man will bring to you a box of matches. When he comes trusthim.--Sutch." And he asked, "Who is Sutch?"
"A great friend of mine," said Feversham. "He is in Egypt, then! Does hesay where?"
"No; but since Mohammed Ali, the grain merchant, dropped the paper, wemay be sure he is at Suakin. A man with a box of matches! Think, we maymeet him to-night!"
But it was a month later when, in the evening, an Arab pushed past themon the river-bank and said: "I am the man with the matches. To-morrow bythe storehouse at this hour." And as he walked past them he dropped abox of coloured matches on the ground. Feversham stooped instantly.
"Don't touch them," said Trench, and he pressed the box into the groundwith his foot and walked on.
"Sutch!" exclaimed Feversham. "So he comes to our help! How did he knowthat I was here?"
Trench fairly shook with excitement as he walked. He did not speak ofthe great new hope which so suddenly came to them, for he dared not. Hetried even to pretend to himself that no message at all had come. He wasafraid to let his mind dwell upon the subject. Both men slept brokenlythat night, and every time they waked it was with a dim consciousnessthat something great and wonderful had happened. Feversham, as he layupon his back and gazed upwards at the stars, had a fancy that he hadfallen asleep in the garden of Broad Place, on the Surrey hills, andthat he had but to raise his head to see the dark pines upon his righthand and his left, and but to look behind to see the gables of the houseagainst the sky. He fell asleep towards dawn, and within an hour waswaked up by a violent shaking. He saw Trench bending over him with agreat fear on his face.
"Suppose they keep us in the prison to-day," he whispered in a shakingvoice, plucking at Feversham. "It has just occurred to me! Suppose theydid that!"
"Why should they?" answered Feversham; but the same fear caught hold ofhim, and they sat dreading the appearance of Idris, lest he should havesome such new order to deliver. But Idris crossed the yard and unboltedthe prison door without a look at them. Fighting, screaming, jammedtogether in the entrance, pulled back, thrust forwards, the captivesstruggled out into the air, and among them was one who ran, foaming atthe mouth, and dashed his head against the wall.
"He is mad!" said Trench, as the gaolers secured him; and since Trenchwas unmanned that morning he began to speak rapidly and almost withincoherence. "That's what I have feared, Feversham, that I should gomad. To die, even here, one could pu
t up with that without overmuchregret; but to go mad!" and he shivered. "If this man with the matchesproves false to us, Feversham, I shall be near to it--very near to it. Aman one day, a raving, foaming idiot the next--a thing to be put awayout of sight, out of hearing. God, but that's horrible!" and he droppedhis head between his hands, and dared not look up until Idris crossed tothem and bade them go about their work. What work they did in thefactory that day neither knew. They were only aware that the hourspassed with an extraordinary slowness, but the evening came at last.
"Among the storehouses," said Trench. They dived into the first alleywhich they passed, and turning a corner saw the man who had brought thematches.
"I am Abdul Kader," he began at once. "I have come to arrange for yourescape. But at present flight is impossible;" and Trench swayed upon hisfeet as he heard the word.
"Impossible?" asked Feversham.
"Yes. I brought three camels to Omdurman, of which two have died. TheEffendi at Suakin gave me money, but not enough. I could not arrangefor relays, but if you will give me a letter to the Effendi telling himto give me two hundred pounds, then I will have everything ready andcome again within three months."
Trench turned his back so that his companion might not see his face. Allhis spirit had gone from him at this last stroke of fortune. The truthwas clear to him, appallingly clear. Abdul Kader was not going to riskhis life; he would be the shuttle going backwards and forwards betweenOmdurman and Suakin as long as Feversham cared to write letters andSutch to pay money. But the shuttle would do no weaving.
"I have nothing with which to write," said Feversham, and Abdul Kaderproduced them.
"Be quick," he said. "Write quickly, lest we be discovered." AndFeversham wrote; but though he wrote as Abdul suggested, the futility ofhis writing was as clear to him as to Trench.
"There is the letter," he said, and he handed it to Abdul, and, takingTrench by the arm, walked without another word away.
They passed out of the alley and came again to the great mud wall. Itwas sunset. To their left the river gleamed with changing lights--hereit ran the colour of an olive, there rose pink, and here again abrilliant green; above their heads the stars were coming out, in theeast it was already dusk; and behind them in the town, drums werebeginning to beat with their barbaric monotone. Both men walked withtheir chins sunk upon their breasts, their eyes upon the ground. Theyhad come to the end of hope, they were possessed with a lethargy ofdespair. Feversham thought not at all of the pine trees on the Surreyhills, nor did Trench have any dread that something in his head wouldsnap and that which made him man be reft from him. They walked slowly,as though their fetters had grown ten times their weight, and without aword. So stricken, indeed, were they that an Arab turned and kept pacebeside them, and neither noticed his presence. In a few moments the Arabspoke:--
"The camels are ready in the desert, ten miles to the west."
But he spoke in so low a voice, and those to whom he spoke were soabsorbed in misery, that the words passed unheard. He repeated them, andFeversham looked up. Quite slowly their meaning broke in on Feversham'smind; quite slowly he recognised the man who uttered them.
"Abou Fatma!" he said.
"Hoosh!" returned Abou Fatma, "the camels are ready."
"Now?"
"Now."
Trench leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, and the face of asick man. It seemed that he would swoon, and Feversham took him by thearm.
"Is it true?" Trench asked faintly; and before Feversham could answerAbou Fatma went on:--
"Walk forwards very slowly. Before you reach the end of the wall it willbe dusk. Draw your cloaks over your heads, wrap these rags about yourchains, so that they do not rattle. Then turn and come back, go close tothe water beyond the storehouses. I will be there with a man to removeyour chains. But keep your faces well covered and do not stop. He willthink you slaves."
With that he passed some rags to them, holding his hands behind hisback, while they stood close to him. Then he turned and hurried back.Very slowly Feversham and Trench walked forwards in the direction of theprison; the dusk crept across the river, mounted the long slope of sand,enveloped them. They sat down and quickly wrapped the rags about theirchains and secured them there. From the west the colours of the sunsethad altogether faded, the darkness gathered quickly about them. Theyturned and walked back along the road they had come. The drums were morenumerous now, and above the wall there rose a glare of light. By thetime they had reached the water's edge opposite the storehouses it wasdark. Abou Fatma was already waiting with his blacksmith. The chainswere knocked off without a word spoken.
"Come," said Abou. "There will be no moon to-night. How long before theydiscover you are gone?"
"Who knows? Perhaps already Idris has missed us. Perhaps he will nottill morning. There are many prisoners."
They ran up the slope of sand, between the quarters of the tribes,across the narrow width of the city, through the cemetery. On the farside of the cemetery stood a disused house; a man rose up in the doorwayas they approached, and went in.
"Wait here," said Abou Fatma, and he too went into the house. In amoment both men came back, and each one led a camel and made it kneel.
"Mount," said Abou Fatma. "Bring its head round and hold it as youmount."
"I know the trick," said Trench.
Feversham climbed up behind him, the two Arabs mounted the second camel.
"Ten miles to the west," said Abou Fatma, and he struck the camel on theflanks.
Behind them the glare of the lights dwindled, the tapping of the drumsdiminished.