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DRIFTWOOD SPARS
THE STORIES OF A MAN, A BOY, A WOMAN, AND CERTAIN OTHER PEOPLE WHOSTRANGELY MET UPON THE SEA OF LIFE
BY
CAPTAIN PERCIVAL CHRISTOPHER WREN, I.A.R.
AUTHOR OF "DEW AND MILDEW", "FATHER GREGORY", "SNAKE AND SWORD", ETC.
"Like driftwood spars which meet and pass Upon the boundless ocean-plain, So on the sea of life, alas! Man nears man, meets, and leaves again"
--MATTHEW ARNOLD
TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED WIFE
NOTE.--This book was written in the year 1912
CONTENTS.
I. THE MAN (Mainly concerning the early life of John, RobinRoss-Ellison.)
II. THE BOY (Mainly concerning the life of Moussa Isa Somali.)
III. THE WOMAN (And Augustus Grabble; General Murger; Sergeant-MajorLawrence-Smith; Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius Gosling-Green; Mr. Horace Faggit;as well as a reformed JOHN ROBIN ROSS-ELLISON.)
IV. "MEET AND LEAVE AGAIN"
CHAPTER I.
THE MAN.
(Mainly concerning the early life of John Robin Ross-Ellison.)
Truth is stranger than fiction, and many of the coincidences of reallife are truly stranger than the most daring imaginings of thefictionist.
Now, I, Major Michael Malet-Marsac, happened at the moment to bethinking of my dear and deeply lamented friend John Ross-Ellison, and tobe pondering, for the thousandth time, his extraordinary life and moreextraordinary death. Nor had I the very faintest notion that theSubedar-Major had ever heard of such a person, much less that he wasactually his own brother, or, to be exact, his half-brother. You see Ihad known Ross-Ellison intimately as one only can know the man with whomone has worked, soldiered, suffered, and faced death. Not only had Iknown, admired and respected him--I had loved him. There is no otherword for it; I loved him as a brother loves a brother, as a son loveshis father, as the fighting-man loves the born leader of fighting-men: Iloved him as Jonathan loved David. Indeed it was actually a case of"passing the love of women" for although he killed Cleopatra Dearman,the only woman for whom I ever cared, I fear I have forgiven him andalmost forgotten her.
But to return to the Subedar-Major. "Peace, fool! Art blind as IbrahimMahmud the Weeper," growled that burly Native Officer as the zealous andover-anxious young sentry cried out and pointed to where, in themoonlight, the returning reconnoitring-patrol was to be seen as itemerged from the lye-bushes of the dry river-bed.
A recumbent comrade of the outpost sentry group sniggered.
My own sympathies were decidedly with the sentry, for I had fever, and"fever is another man". In any case, hours of peering, watching,imagining and waiting, for the attack that will surely come--and nevercomes--try even experienced nerves.
"And who was Ibrahim the Weeper, Subedar-Major Saheb?" I inquired of theredoubtable warrior as he joined me.
"He was my brother's enemy, Sahib," replied Mir Daoud Khan Mir HafizUllah Khan, principal Native Officer of the 99th Baluch Light Infantryand member of the ruling family of Mekran Kot in far Kubristan.
"And what made him so blind as to be for a proverb unto you?"
"Just some little drops of water, Sahib, nothing more," replied the bigman with a smile that lifted the curling moustache and showed thedazzling perfect teeth.
It was bitter, bitter cold--cold as it only can be in hot countries (Ihave never felt the cold in Russia as I have in India) and the khakiflannel shirt, khaki tunic, shorts and putties that had seemed so hotin the cruel heat of the day as we made our painful way across thevalley, seemed miserably inadequate at night, on the windy hill-top.Moreover I was in the cold stage of a go of fever, and to have escapedsunstroke in the natural oven of that awful valley at mid-day seemed butthe prelude to being frost-bitten on the mountain at midnight.Subedar-Major Mir Daoud Khan Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan appeared whollyunaffected by the 100 deg. variation in temperature, but then he had a fewodd stone of comfortable fat and was bred to such climatic trifles. He,moreover, knew not fever, and, unlike me, had not experienced dysentery,malaria, enteric and pneumonia fairly recently.
"And had the hand of your brother anything to do with the little dropsof water that made Ibrahim the Weeper so blind?" I asked.
"Something, Sahib," replied Mir Daoud Khan with a laugh, "but the handof Allah had more than that of my brother. It is a strange story. Truestories are sometimes far stranger than those of the bazaar tale-tellerswhose trade it is to invent or remember wondrous tales and stories,myths, and legends."
"We have a proverb to that effect, Mir Saheb. Let us sit in the shelterof this rock and you shall tell me the story. Our eyes can work whiletongue and ear play--or would you sleep?"
"_Nahin_, Sahib! Am I a Sahib that I should regard night as the timewholly sacred to sleep and day as the time when to sleep is sin? I willtell the Sahib the tale of the Blindness of Ibrahim Mahmud the Weeper,well knowing that he, a truth-speaker, will believe the truth spoken byhis servant. To no liar would it seem possible.
"Know then, Sahib, that this brother of mine was not my mother's son,though the son of my father (Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan Mir Faquir MahommedAfzul Khan), who was the youngest son of His Highness the Jam Saheb ofMekran Kot in Kubristan. And he, my father, was a great traveller, arestless wanderer, and crossed the Black Water many times. To Englistanhe went, and without crossing water he also went to the capital of theAmir of Russia to say certain things, quietly, from the King of Islam,the Amir of Afghanistan. To where the big Waler horses come from he alsowent, and to where they take the camels for use in the hot and sandynorthern parts."
"Yes, Australia" I remarked.
"Without doubt, if the Sahib be pleased to say it. And there, havingtaken many camels in a ship that he might sell them at a profit, hewedded a white woman--a woman of the race of the Highland soldiers ofEnglistan, such as are in this very Brigade."
"Married a Scotchwoman?"
"Without doubt. Of a low caste--her father being a drunkard and landless(though grandson of a Lord Sahib), living by horses and camels menially,out-casted, a jail-bird. Formerly he had carried the mail through thedesert, a fine rider and brave man, but _sharab_[1] had loosened thethigh in the saddle and palsied hand and eye. On hearing this news, theJam Saheb was exceeding wroth, for he had planned a good marriage forhis son, and he arranged that the woman should die if my father, onwhom be Peace, brought her to Mekran Kot. 'Tis but desert and mountain,Sahib, with a few big _jagirs_[2] and some villages, a good fort, acrumbling tower, and a town on the Caravan Road--but the Jam Saheb'swords are clearly heard and for many miles.
[1] Wine. [2] Estates.
"Our father, however, was not so foolish as to bring the woman to hishome, for he knew that Pathan horse-dealers, camel-men, and traderswould have taken the truth, and more than the truth, concerning thewoman's social position to the gossips of Mekran Kot. And, apart fromthe fact that her father was a drunkard, landless, a jail-bird,out-casted by his caste-fellows, no father loves to see his son marrywith a woman of another community, nor with any woman but her with whosefather he has made his arrangements.
"So my father, bringing the fair woman, his wife, by ship to Karachi,travelled by the _relwey terain_ to Kot Ghazi and left her there inIndia, where she would be safe. There he left her with her _butcha_,[3]my half-brother, and journeyed toward the setting sun to look upon theface of his father the Jam Saheb. And the Jam Saheb long turned his facefrom him and would not look upon him nor give him his blessing--and onlyrelented when my father took to himself another wife, my mother, thelady of noble birth whom the Jam Saheb had desired for him--andsojourned for a season at Mekran Kot. But after I was born of this union(I am of pure and noble descent) his heart wearied,
being with the fairwoman at Kot Ghazi, for whom he yearned, and with her son, his own son,yet so white of skin, so blue of eye, the fairest child who ever had aPathan father. Yea, my brother was even fairer than I, who, as theHuzoor knoweth, have grey eyes, and hair and beard that are not darklybrown.
[3] Baby.
"So my father began to make journeys to Kot Ghazi to visit the woman hisfirst wife, and the boy his first-born. And she, who loved him much, andwhom he loved, prevailed upon him to name my brother after _her_ fatheras well as after himself, the child's father (as is our custom) and somy brother was rightly called Mir Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan Ilderim DostMahommed Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan."
"And what part of that is the name of his mother's father?" I asked, forthe Subedar-Major's rapid utterance of the name conveyed nothing offamiliar English or Scottish names to my mind.
"Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan," replied Mir Daoud Khan; "that was herfather's name, Sahib."
"Say it again, slowly."
"Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan."
"I have it! Yes, but _what_?--John Robin Ross-Ellison? Good God! But _I_knew a John Robin Ross-Ellison when _I_ was a Captain. He was Colonel ofthe Corps of which I was Adjutant, in fact--the Gungapur VolunteerRifles.... By Jove! That explains a lot. _John Robin Ross-Ellison_!"
I was too incredulous to be astounded. It _could_ not be.
"_Han_[4] Sahib, _be shak_![5] Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan Ilderim DostMahommed Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan was his name. And his mother called himJan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan and his father, Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan, calledhim Ilderim Dost Mahommed."
[4] Yes. [5] Without doubt.
"H'm! A Scotch Pathan, brought up by an Australian girl in India, wouldbe a rare bird--and of rare possibilities naturally," I murmured, whilemy mind worked quickly backward.
"My brother was unlike us in some things, Sahib. He was fond of the_sharab_ called '_Whisky_' and of dogs; he drank smoke from the cherootafter the fashion of the Sahib-log and not from the hookah nor the_bidi_;[6] he wore boots; he struck with the clenched fist when angered;and never did he squat down upon his heels nor sit cross-legged upon theground. Yet he was true Pathan in many ways during his life, and he diedas a Pathan should, concerning his honour (and a woman). Yea--and in hislast fight, ere he was hanged, he killed more men with his long Khyberknife, single-handed against a mob, than ever did lone man before withcold steel in fair fight."
[6] Native cigarette.
Then it was so. And the Subedar-Major was John Robin Ross-Ellison'sbrother!
"He may have been foolishly kind to women, servants and dogs, and of afoolish type of honour that taketh not every possible advantage of thefoe--but he was very brave, Huzoor, a strong enemy, and when he began hemade an end, and if that same honour were affronted he killed his man.And yet he did not kill Ibrahim Mahmud the Weeper, who surely earned hisdeath twice, and who tried to kill him in a manner most terrible tothink of. No, he did not--but it shall be told.... And the white womanprevailed upon our father to make her man-child a Sahib and to let himgo to the _maktab_[7] and _madressah-tul-Islam_[8] at Kot Ghazi, tolearn the clerkly lore that gives no grip to the hand on the sword-hiltand lance-shaft nor to the thighs in the saddle, no skill to the fingerson the reins, no length of sight to the eye, no steadiness to the rifleand the lance, no understanding of the world and men and things. But ourfather corrected all this, that the learning might do him no harm, foroft-times he brought him to Mekran Kot (where my mother tried to poisonhim), and he took him across the Black Water and to Kabul and Calcuttaand showed him the world. Also he taught him all he knew of the horse,the rifle, the sword, and the lance--which was no small matter. Thus,much of the time wasted at school was harmless, and what the boy lostthrough the folly of his mother was redeemed by the wisdom of hisfather. Truly are our mothers our best friends and worst enemies. Why,when I was but a child my mother gave me money and bade me go prove--butI digress. Well, thus my brother grew up not ignorant of the things aman should know if he is to be a man and not a _babu_, but the woman,his mother, wept sore whenever he was taken from her, and gave my fathertrouble and annoyance as women ever do. And when, at last, she beggedthat the boy might enter the service of the Sirkar as a wielder of thepen in an office in Kot Ghazi, and strive to become a leading_munshi_[9] and then a Deputy-Saheb, a _babu_ in very fact, my fatherwas wroth, and said the boy would be a warrior--yea, though he had todie in his first skirmish and ere his beard were grown. Then the womanwept and wearied my father until it seemed better to him that she shoulddie and, being at peace, bring peace. No quiet would he have at MekranKot from my mother and his father, the Jam Saheb, while the woman lived,nor would she herself allow him quiet at Kot Ghazi. And was she notgrowing old and skinny moreover? And so he sent my brother to MekranKot--and the woman died, without scandal. So my brother dweltthenceforward in Mekran Kot, knowing many things, for he had passed agreat _imtahan_[10] at Bombay and won a _sertifcut_[11] thereby, whereofthe Jam Saheb was very pleased, for the son of the Vizier had also goneto a _madresseh_ and won a _sertifcut_, and it was time the pride of theVizier and his son were abated.
[7] School. [8] Mohammedan High School. [9] Clerk. [10] Examination. [11] Certificate.
"Now the son of the Vizier, Mahmud Shahbaz, was Ibrahim--and a meanmangy pariah cur this Ibrahim Mahmud was, having been educated, and hehated my brother bitterly by reason of the _sertifcut_ and on account ofa matter concerning a dancing-girl, one of those beautiful fat Mekranis,and, by reason of his hatred and envy and jealousy, my mother madecommon cause with him, she also desiring my brother's death, in that herhusband loved this child of another woman, an alien, his first love,better than he loved hers. But _I_ bore him no ill-will, Huzoor. I lovedhim and admired his deeds.
"Many attempts they made, but though my mother was clever and IbrahimMahmud and his father the Vizier were unscrupulous, my brother was inthe protection of the Prophet. Moreover he was much away from MekranKot, being, like our father, a great traveller and soon irked bywhatever place he might be in. And, one time, he returned home, havingbeen to Germany on secret service (a thing he often did before he becamea Sahib) and to France and Africa on a little matter of rifles forAfghanistan and the Border, and spoke to us of that very Somaliland towhich this very _pultan_, the 99th Baluch Light Infantry, went in 1908(was it?), and how the English were losing prestige there and would haveto send troops or receive _boondah_[12] and the blackened face from himthey called the Mad Mullah. And yet another time he returned from Indiabringing a Somali boy, a black-faced youth, but a good Mussulman, whom,some time before, he had known and saved from death in Africa, and nowhad most strangely encountered again. And this Somali lad--who was not a_hubshi_, a Woolly One, not a Sidi[13] slave--saved my brother's life inhis turn. I said he was not a slave--but in a sense he was, for he askednothing better than to sit in the shadow of my brother throughout hislife; for he loved my brother as the Huzoors' dogs love their masters,yea--he would rather have had blows from my brother than gold fromanother. He it was who saved Mir Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan from theterrible death prepared for him by Ibrahim Mahmud. It was during thisvisit to Mekran Kot that Mahmud Shahbaz, the Vizier, announcedthat he was about to send his learned son, the dog Ibrahim, toEnglistan to become English-made first-class Pleader--what theycalled--'_Barishtar-at-Lar_' is it not, Sahib?"
[12] An insulting and contemptuous gesture. [13] A class of negroes, much employed as sailors and boatmen, and called Seedeeboys.
"That's it, Mir Saheb," replied I, sitting alert with chattering teethand shivering ague-stricken body. "Barrister-at Law.... Sit as close tome as you can, for warmth.... Hark! Is that a signal?" as a long highwavering note rose from the dry river-bed before us and wailedlugubriously upon the night, rising and falling in mournful cadence.
"'Twas a genuine jackal-cry, Huzoor. One can always tell the imitationif jackals have sung one's lullaby from birth--though most Pathans candeceive white ears in the matter.... Well, this made things nopleasanter, for Ibrahim crowed li
ke the dung-hill cock he was, andboasted loudly. Also my mother urged him to do a deed ere he left MekranKot for so long a sojourn in Belait.[14] And to her incitements and hisown inclination and desires was added that which made revenge and mybrother's death the chiefest things in all the world to Ibrahim Mahmud,and it happened thus.... But do I weary the Sahib with my babble?"
[14] Europe.
"Nay--nay--far from it, Mir Saheb," replied I. "The sentry of talkchallenges the approaching skirmishers of sleep. The thong of narrativedrives off the dogs of tedium. Tell on." And in point of fact I was nowtoo credulous to be anything but astounded.... _John RobinRoss-Ellison_!
"Well, one day, my brother and I went forth to shoot sand-grouse,tuloor,[15] chikor,[16] chinkara[17] and perchance ibex, leaving behindthis black body-servant Moussa Isa, the Somali boy, because he wassick. And it was supposed that we should not return for a week at theleast. But on the third day we returned, my brother's eyes beinginflamed and sore and he fearing blindness if he remained out in thedesert glare. This is a common thing, as the Sahib knoweth, when dustand sun combine against the eyes of those who have read over-many booksand written over-much with the steel pen upon white paper, and mybrother was somewhat prone to this trouble in the desert if he exhaustedhimself with excessive _shikar_ and--other matters. And this angered himgreatly. Yet it was all ordained by Allah for the undoing of thatunclean dog Ibrahim Mahmud--for, returning and riding on his white camel(a far-famed pacer of speed and endurance) under the great gateway ofthe Jam's fort--high enough for a camel-rider to pass unstooping andlong enough for a _relwey_-tunnel--he came upon Mahmud Ibrahim and hisfriends and followers (for he had many such, who thought he mightsucceed his father as Vizier) doing a thing that enraged my brother verygreatly. Swinging at the end of a cord tied to his hands, which werebound behind his back, was the boy Moussa Isa the Somali, apparentlydead, for his eyes were closed and he gave no sign of pain as Ibrahim'sgang of pimps, panders, bullies and _budmashes_[18] kept him swinging toand fro by blows of _lathis_[19] and by kicks, while Ibrahim and hisfriends, at a short distance, strove to hit the moving body with stones.I suppose the agony of hanging forward from the arms, and the blows ofstaff and stone, had stunned the lad--who had offended Ibrahim, itappeared, by preventing him from entering my brother's house--probablyto poison his water-_lotah_[20] and _gurrah_[21]--at the door of whichhe, Moussa Isa, lay sick. My brother, Mir Jan, sprang from his camelwithout waiting for the driver to make it kneel, and going up toIbrahim, he struck him with his closed, but empty, hand. Not with theslap that stings and angers, he struck him, but with the thud that stunsand injures, upon the mouth, removing certain of his teeth,--such beinghis anger and his strength. Rising from the ground and plucking forthhis knife, Ibrahim sprang at my brother who, unarmed, straightway smotehim senseless, and that is talked of in Mekran Kot to this day.Yea--senseless. Placing the thumb upon the knuckles of the clenchedfingers, he smote at the chin of Ibrahim, and laid him, as one dead,upon the earth. Straight to the front from the shoulder and notdownwards nor swinging sideways he struck, and it was as though Ibrahimhad been shot. The Sahib being English will believe this, but manyBaluchis and Pathans do not. They cannot believe it, though to meSubedar-Major Mir Daoud Khan Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan of the 99th BaluchLight Infantry of the Army of the King Emperor of India, they pretendthat they do, when I tell of that great deed.... Then my brother loosedMoussa Isa with his own hand, saying that even as he had served IbrahimMahmud so would he serve any man who injured a hair of the head of hisbody-servant. And Moussa Isa clave to my brother yet the more, and whena great Sidi slave entered the room of my brother by night, doubtlesshired by Ibrahim Mahmud to slay him, Moussa Isa, grappling with him,tore out his throat with his teeth, though stabbed many times by theSidi, ere my brother could light torch or wick to tell friend from foe.Whether he were thief or hired murderer, none could say--least of allthe Sidi when Moussa Isa, at my brother's bidding, loosed his teeth fromthe man's throat. But all men held that it was the work of Ibrahim, for,on recovering his senses that day of the blow, he had walked up to mybrother Mir Jan and said:--
[15] Bustard. [16] A kind of partridge. [17] Gazelle. [18] Bad characters. [19] Long staves. [20] Brass cup or vase. [21] Basin or pot.
"'For that blow will I have a great revenge, O Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-IsanIlderim Dost Mahommed Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan, descendant of Mirs and of_mlecca_ dogs, this year or next year, or ten years hence, or when thouart old, or upon thy first-born. By the sacred names of God, by theBeard of the Prophet, by the hilt and blade of this my knife, and by thelife of my oldest son, I swear to have a vengeance on thee that shallturn men pale as they whisper it. _And may Allah smite me blind_ if I donot unto thee a thing of which children yet unborn shall speak withawe.'
"Thus spake Ibrahim, son of Mahmud, for though a dog, a mangy pariahcur, he was still a Pathan.
"But my brother laughed in his face and said but 'It would seem that Itoo have tortured a slave' whereat Ibrahim repeated again 'Yea--_mayAllah smite me blind!_'
"And something of this coming to the ears of our father, now heir to theJam of Mekran Kot, as his brothers were dead (in the big Border War theydied), he prayed the Jam Saheb to hasten the departure of the Vizier'scub, and also told the Vizier that he would surely cut out his tongueif aught befell Mir Jan. So the Vizier sent Ibrahim to Kot Ghazi onbusiness of investing moneys--wrung by knavery, doubtless, from litigantsuitors, candidates, criminals, and the poor of Mekran Kot. And shortlyafter, the Jam Saheb heard of a new kind of gun that fires six of thefat cartridges such as are used for the shooting of birds, withoutreloading; and he bade Mir Jan who understood all things, and the waysof the European gun-shop at Kot Ghazi, to hasten forthwith and procurehim a couple, and if none were in Kot Ghazi to send a _tar_[22] toBombay for them, or even, if necessary, to Englistan, though at a costof two rupees a word. With such a gun the Jam hoped to get better_shikar_ when sitting on his camel and circling round the foolishcrouching grouse or _tuloor_, and firing at them as they sat. He thoughthe might fire twice or thrice at them sitting, and again twice or thriceat the remnant flying, and perchance hit some on the wing, after thewonderful manner of the Sahibs. So he sent my brother, knowing him to beboth clever and honest and understanding the speech and ways of theEnglish most fully.
[22] Telegram.
"Now it is many days' journey, Sahib, across the desert and themountains, from Mekran Kot in Kubristan to Kot Ghazi in India, but atKot Ghazi is a fine bungalow, the property of the Jam Saheb, and thereall travellers from his house may sojourn and rest after their long andperilous travel.
"Taking me and Mir Abdul Haq and Mir Hussein Ali and many men andservants, among whom was the body-servant, the boy Moussa Isa Somali, heset forth, a little depressed that we heard not the cry of thepartridge in the fields of Mekran Kot as we started--not exactly a badomen, but lacking a good one. And sure enough, ere we won to Kot Ghazi,his eyes became red and inflamed, very sore and painful to use. So, heput the tail of his _puggri_[23] about his face and rode all day fromsun-rise to sun-set in darkness, his camel being driven by AbdulaliGulamali Bokhari--the same who later rose to fame and honour as anoutlaw and was hanged at Peshawar after a brave and successful career.And being arrived, in due course, at Kot Ghazi, before entering thebungalow belonging to the Jam Saheb, he knelt his camel at the door ofthe shop of a European _hakim_--in English a--er--"
[23] Turban.
"Chemist, Mir Saheb," I suggested.
"Doubtless, since your honour says it--of a _kimmish_, and entering, tothe Eurasian dog therein said in English, of which he knew everything(and taught me much, as your honour knows), 'Look you. I need lotion formy eyes, eye medicine, and a bath for them' and the man mixed variouswaters and poured them into a blue bottle with red labels, verybeautiful to see, and wrote upon it. Also he gave my brother a small cupof glass, shaped like the mouth of the _pulla_ fish or the eye-socket ofa man. And my brother, knowing what to do, used the things then andthere, to the wonder o
f Abdul Haq and Hussein Ali, pouring the liquorinto the glass cup, and holding it to his eyes, and with back-thrownhead washing the eye and soothing it.
"'Shahbas!'[24] quoth he. 'It is good,' and anon we proceeded to thegun-shop and then to the bungalow belonging to the Jam Saheb. And loand behold, here we discovered the dog Ibrahim Mahmud, and my brothertwisted the knife of memory in the wound of insult by ordering him toquit the room he occupied and seek another, since Mir Jan intended theroom for his body-servant, Moussa Isa Somali--the servant of a Mir beingmore deserving of the room than the son of a Vizier! This was unwise,but my brother's heart was too great to fear (or to fathom) the guile ofsuch a serpent as Ibrahim.
[24] Bravo! Excellent!
"And when he had bathed and prayed, eaten and drunk and rested, mybrother again anointed his eyes with the liquid--which though only likewater, was strong to soothe and heal. And our servants and peoplewatched him doing this with wonder and admiration, and the news of itspread to the servants of Ibrahim Mahmud, who told their master of thiscleverness of Mir Jan,--and Ibrahim, after a while, sent a message and apresent to my brother, humbling himself, and asking that he too mightsee this thing.
"And Mir Jan, perhaps a little proud of his English ways, sat upon his_charpai_,[25] and bathed his eyes in the little bath, until, wearyingof the trouble of pouring back the liquid into the bottle, he wouldpress the bottle itself to his eye and throw back his head. So his eyeswere quickly eased of pain, and in the evening we all went forth toenjoy.
[25] Native cot or bed.
"On his return to the room, Mir Jan flung himself, weary, upon his_charpai_ and Moussa Isa lay across the doorway.
"In the morning my brother awoke and sitting on the _charpai_, took upthe blue bottle, drew the cork, and raised the bottle towards his eyes.As he did this, Moussa Isa entered, and knowing not why he did so,sprang at his master and dashed the bottle from his hand. It fell to theground but broke not, the floor being _dhurrie_[26]-covered.
[26] Carpet.
"In greatest amazement Mir Jan glanced from Moussa Isa to the bottle,clenching his hand to strike the boy--when behold! the very floorbubbled and smoked beneath the touch of the liquid as it ran from thebottle. By the Beard of the Prophet, that stone floor bubbled and smokedlike water and the _dhurrie_ was burnt! Snatching up the bottle mybrother dropped drops from it upon the blade of his knife, upon theleather of his boots, upon paint and brass and clothing--and behold itwas liquid fire, burning and corroding all that it touched! To me hecalled, and, being shown these things, I could scarce believe--and thenI cried aloud 'Ibrahim Mahmud! Thine enemy!... Oh, my brother,--thineeyes!' and I remembered the words of Ibrahim, '_a vengeance that shallturn men pale as they whisper it--a thing of which children yet unbornshall speak with awe_' and we rushed to his room,--to find it empty. Heand his best camel and its driver were gone, but all his people andservants and _oont-wallahs_[27] were in the _serai_,[28] and said theyknew not where he was, but had received a _hookum_[29] over-night to setout that day for Mekran Kot. And, catching up a pariah puppy, Ire-entered the house and dropped one drop from the blue bottle into itseye. Sahib, even _I_ pitied the creature and slew it quickly with myknife. And it was this that Ibrahim Mahmud had intended for the blueeyes of my beautiful brother. This was the vengeance of which men shouldspeak in whispers. Those who saw and heard that puppy would speak of itin whispers indeed--or not at all. I felt sick and my fingers itched tomadness for the throat of Ibrahim Mahmud. Had I seen him then, I wouldhave put out his eyes with my thumbs. Nay--I would have used the burningliquid upon him as he had designed it should be used by my brother.
[27] Camel-men. [28] Halting-enclosure, rest-house. [29] Order.
"Hearing Mir Jan's voice, I hurried forth, and found that his whitepacing-camel was already saddled and that he sat in the front seat,prepared to drive. 'Up, Daoud Khan' he cried to me 'we goa-hunting'--and I sprang to the rear saddle even as the camel rose.'Lead on, Moussa Isa, and track as thou hast never tracked before, ifthou wouldst live,' said he to the Somali, a noted _paggi_,[30] evenamong the Baluch and Sindhi _paggis_ of the police at Peshawar and KotGhazi. 'I can track the path of yesterday's bird through the air and ofyesterday's fish through the water,' answered the black boy; 'and Iwould find this Ibrahim by smell though he had blinded _me_,' and he ledon. Down the Sudder Bazaar he went unfaltering, though hundreds of feetof camels, horses, bullocks and of men were treading its dust. As wepassed the shop of the European _hakim_, yes, the _kimmish_, my brotherleapt down and entering the shop asked questions. Returning and mountinghe said to me: ''Tis as I thought. Hither he came last night, and,saying he was science-knowing failed B.Sc., demanded certain acids,that, being mixed, will eat up even gold--which no other acid candigest, nor even assail....'"
[30] Tracker.
"_Aqua Regia_, or vitriol, I believe," I murmured, still marvelling ..._Ross-Ellison!_
"Doubtless, if your honour is pleased to say so. 'He must have pouredthese acids into the bottle while we were abroad last night,' continuedmy brother. 'Oh, the dog! The treacherous dreadful dog!... 'Twas in agood hour that I saved Moussa Isa,' and indeed I too blessed thatSomali, so mysteriously moved by Allah to dash the bottle from mybrother's hand.
"'Think you that Ibrahim Mahmud bribed Moussa and that he repented as hesaw you about to anoint your eyes with the acid?' I asked of my brother.
"'Nay--Moussa was with me until I returned,' replied he, 'and returning,I put the bottle beneath my pillow. Besides, Ibrahim had fled ere wereturned to the bungalow. Moreover, Moussa would lose his tongue ere hewould tell me a lie, his eyes ere he would see me suffer, his hand erehe would take a bribe against me. No--Allah moved his heart--rewardingme for saving his life at the risk of mine own, when he lay beneath alion,--or else it is that the black dog hath the instincts of a dog andknows when evil threatens what it loves.' And indeed it is a wonderfulthing and true; and Moussa Isa never knew how he knew, but said his armmoved of itself and that he wondered at himself as he struck the bottlefrom his master's hand. And, in time, we left the city and followed theroad and found that Ibrahim was fleeing to Mekran Kot, doubtless to befar away when the thing happened, and also to get counsel and money fromhis father and my mother, should suspicion fall on him and flight benecessary. And anon even untrained eyes could see where he had left theCaravan Road and taken the shorter route whereby camels bearing no heavyload could come by steeper passes and dangerous tracks in shorter timeto Mekran Kot, provided the rider bore water sufficient--for there wasno oasis nor well. 'Enough, Moussa Isa, thou mayest return, I can trackthe camel of Ibrahim now that he hath left the road,' quoth my brother,breaking a long silence; but Moussa Isa, panting as he ran before,replied: 'I come, Mir Saheb. I shall not fall until mine eyes havebeheld thy vengeance--in which perchance, _I_ may take a part. He calledme "_Hubshi_".'
"'He hath many hours' start, Moussa,' said my brother, 'and his camel isa good one. He will not halt and sleep for many hours even though hesuppose me dead!'
"'I can run for a day; for a day and a night I can run,' replied theSomali, 'and I can run until the hour of thy vengeance cometh. He called_me_ "Hubshi"' ... and he ran on.
"Sahib, for the whole of that day he ran beside the fast camel, mybrother drawing rein for no single minute, and when, at dawn, I awokefrom broken slumber in the saddle, Moussa Isa was running yet! And thenwe heard the cry of the partridge and knew that our luck was good.
"'He may have left the track,' quoth my brother soon after dawn, 'but Ithink he is making for Mekran Kot, to get money and documents and toescape again ere news of his deed--or the suspicion of him--reaches theJam Saheb. We may have missed him, but I could not halt and wait fordaylight. He cannot be far ahead of us now. This camel shall live onmilk and meal and wheaten bread, finest _bhoosa_[31] and chosen younggreen shoots, and buds, and leaves--and he shall have a collar of goldwith golden bells, and reins of silk, and hanging silken tassels, and heshall----" and then Moussa Isa gave a hoarse scream and pointed
to thesky-line above which rose a wisp of smoke.
[31] Bran.
"'It is he,' said my brother, and within the hour we beheld the littlebush-tent of Ibrahim Mahmud (made with cloths thrown over a bent bush)and his camel, near to which, his _oont-wallah_ Suleiman Abdulla hadkindled a fire and prepared food. (Later this liar swore that he madethe fire smoke with green twigs to guide the pursuit,--a foolish lie,for he knew not what Ibrahim had done, nor anything but that his masterhastened.)
"Moussa Isa staggered to where Ibrahim Mahmud lay asleep, looked uponhis face, and fell, seeming to be about to die.
"Making a little _chukker_[32] round, my brother drove the camel betweenSuleiman and the tent and made it kneel.
[32] Circuit, course.
"'_Salaam aleikoum_,[33] Mir Saheb,' said Suleiman, and my brotherreplied:--
[33] A Mussulman greeting.
"'Salaam. Tend thou my camel and prepare food for me, and my brother,and my servant. And if thou wouldst not hang in a pig's skin, be wiseand wary, and keep eyes, ears, and mouth closed.' And we drank water.
"Then, treading softly, we went to the tent where Ibrahim Mahmud sleptand sat us down where we could look upon his face. There he slept,Sahib, peacefully, like a little child!--having left Mir Jan to die thedeath 'whereof men should speak with awe,' as he had threatened.
"We sat beside him and watched. Saying nothing, we sat and watched. Anhour passed and an hour again. For another hour without moving orspeaking we sat and Moussa Isa joined us and watched.
"'Twas sweet, and I licked my lips and hoped he might not wake forhours, although I hungered. The actual revenge is very, very sweet,Sahib, but does it exceed the joy of watching the enemy as he lieswholly at your mercy, lies in the hollow of your hand and is your poorfoolish plaything,--knave made fool at last? Like statues we sat, movingnot our eyes from his face, and we were very happy.
"Then, suddenly, he awoke and his eyes fell on my brother--and heshrieked aloud, as the hare shrieks when hound or jackal seize her; asthe woman shrieks when the door goes down before the raiders and thethatch goes up in flame.
"Thus he shrieked.
"We moved not.
"'Why cryest thou, dear brother?' asked Mir Jan in a soft, sweet voice.
"'I--I--thought thou wast a spirit, come to--' he faltered, and mybrother answered:--
"'And why should _I_ be a spirit, my brother? Am I not young andstrong?'
"'I dreamed,' quavered Ibrahim.
"'I too have had a dream,' said my brother.
"''Twas but a dream, Mir Jan. I will arise and prepare some--' repliedIbrahim, affecting ease of manner but poorly, for he had no real nerve.
"'Thou wilt not arise yet, Ibrahim Mahmud,' murmured my brother gently.
"'Why?'
"'Because thine eyes are somewhat wearied and I purpose to wash themwith my magic water,' and as he held up the blue bottle with the redlabel Ibrahim screamed like a girl and flung himself forward at mybrother's feet, shrieking and praying for mercy:--
"'_No, No!_' he howled; 'not _that!_ Mercy, O kingly son of Kings! Iwill give thee--"
"'Nay, my brother,--what is this?' asked Mir Jan softly, with kindcaressing voice. 'What is all this? I do but propose to bathe thine eyeswith this same magic water wherewith I bathed mine own, the day beforeyesterday. Thou didst see me do it--thou didst watch me do it.'
"'Mercy--most noble Mir! Have pity, 'twas not I. Mercy!' he screamed.
"'But, Ibrahim, dear brother' expostulated Mir Jan, 'why this objectionto my magic water? It gave me great relief and my eyes were quicklyhealed. Thine own need care--for see--water gushes from them even now.'
"The dog howled--like a dog--and offered lakhs of rupees.
"'But surely, my brother, what gave me relief will give thee relief?Thou knowest how my eyes were soothed and healed, and that it is apotent charm, and surely _it is not changed_?' Mir Jan Rah-bin-Rasel-Isan was all Pathan then, Sahib, whatever he may have been at othertimes. I could not have played more skilfully with the dog myself.
"At last, turning to Moussa Isa he said:--
"'Our brother seemeth distraught, and perchance will do himself someinjury if he be not tended with care and watched over. Bind him, to makesure that he hurt not himself in this strange madness that hatho'ertaken him, making him fancy harm even in this healing balm. Bind himtightly.' And at that, the treacherous, murderous dog found his manhoodfor a moment and made to spring to his feet and fight, but as he triedto rise, Moussa Isa kicked him in the face and fell upon him.
"'Shall I serve thee as I served thy _Hubshi_ hireling, thy Sidi slave?'he grunted and showed his sharp strong teeth.
"'Perchance 'twould cure him of his madness if we bled the poor soul alittle,' cooed my brother, putting his hand to his cummerbund where washis long Afghan knife, and Ibrahim Mahmud lay still. Picking up his big,green turban from beside his rug, I bound his arms to his sides andthen, going forth, got baggage-cords from the _oont-wallah_ and likewisehis _puggri_, and Moussa Isa bound his feet and hands and knees.
"Then my brother called Suleiman Abdulla the _oont-wallah_, and badeMoussa Isa sleep--which he did with his knife in his hand, having boundhis foot to that of Ibrahim.
"'Look, thou dog,' said Mir Jan to Suleiman, 'should this rat-fleaescape, thy soul and thy body shall pay, for I will put out thine eyeswith glowing charcoal and hang thee in the skin of a pig, if I have tofollow thee to Cabul to do it--yea, to Balkh or Bokhara. See to it.' AndSuleiman put his head upon my brother's feet, poured dust upon it andsaid 'So be it, Mir Saheb. Do this and more if he escape,' and we sleptawhile.
"Anon we awoke, ate, drank and smoked, my brother smoking the cherootsof the Sahib-log and I having to be content with the _bidis_ of Suleimanas there was no hookah.
"And when we had rested we went and sat before the face of Ibrahim andgazed upon him long, without words.
"And he wept. Like a woman he wept, and said 'Slay me, Mir Saheb, andhave done. Slay me with thy knife.'
"But my brother replied softly and sweetly:--
"'What wild words are these, Ibrahim? Why should I slay thee? Somematter of a quarrel there was concerning thy torturing of myservant--but I am not of them that bear grudges and nurse hatred. In noanger slay thee with my knife? Why should I injure thee? I do mostsolemnly swear, Ibrahim, that I will do thee no wilful hurt. I will butanoint thine eyes with the contents of this bottle just as I did anointmy own. Why should I slay thee or do thee hurt?'
"And I chuckled aloud. He was all Pathan then, Sahib, and handling hisenemy right subtly.
"And Ibrahim wept yet more loudly and said again:--
"'Slay me and have done.' Then my brother gave him the name by which hewas known ever after, saying:--
"'Why should I slay thee, _Ibrahim, the Weeper_?' and he produced thebottle and held it above that villain's face.
"His screams were music to me, and in the joy of his black heart MoussaIsa burst into some strange chant in his own Somali tongue.
"'Nay, our friends must hear thy eloquence and songs, Ibrahim,' said mybrother, after he had held the bottle tilted above the face of theWeeper for some minutes. ''Twere greedy to keep this to ourselves.'
"Again and again that day my brother would say: 'Nay--I cannot waitlonger. Poor Ibrahim's weeping eyes must be relieved at once,' and hewould produce the bottle, uncork it, and hold it over Ibrahim's face ashe writhed and screamed and twisted in his bonds.
"'What ails thee, Ibrahim the Weeper?' he would coo. 'Thou knowest it isa soothing lotion. Didst thou not see me use it on mine own eyes?' Yea,he was true Pathan then, and I loved him the more.
"A hundred times that day he did thus and enjoyed the music of Ibrahim'sscreams, and by night the dog was a little mad. So, lest we defeatourselves and lose something of the sport our souls loved, we left himin peace that night, if 'peace' it is to know that the dreadful deathyou have prepared for another now overhangs you. Moussa Isa kept watchthrough the night. And in the morning came Abdul Haq and Hu
ssein Aliand the servants and _oont-wallahs_, save a few who had been sent withladen camels by the Caravan Road. And, when all had eaten and rested, mybrother held _durbar_,[34] having placed Ibrahim Mahmud in the midst,bound, and looking like one who has long lain upon a bed of sickness.
[34] Meeting.
"This _durbar_ proceeded with the greatest solemnity and no man smiledwhen my brother said: 'And now, touching the matter of my beloved andrespected Ibrahim Mahmud, son of our grandfather's Vizier,--the learnedIbrahim, who shortly goeth (perhaps) across the black water to Englistanto become a great and famous pleader,--can any suggest the cause of thestrange and distressing madness that hath come upon him so suddenly?For, behold, I have to keep him bound lest he do himself an injury, andconstantly he crieth, "Kill me, Mir Saheb, kill me with thy knife andmake an end." And when I go to bathe his poor eyes, so sore and red withweeping, behold he shrieketh like the _relwey terain_ at Peshawar andweepeth like a woman.'
"And Abdul Haq spoke and said: 'Is it so indeed, Mir Saheb?' And mybrother said: 'It is so;' and Hussein Ali said: 'Is it so indeed, MirSaheb?' And my brother said 'It is so;' and all men said the same thinggravely and my brother made the same answer.
"Sahib, I shall never forget the joy of that _durbar_ with Ibrahim theWeeper there, like a trapped rat, in the midst, looking from face toface for mercy.
"'Yea--it is so. It is indeed so,' again said my brother when all hadasked. 'You shall see--and hear. Behold I will drop but one drop of mysoothing lotion into each of his eyes!' ... and he turned to Ibrahim theWeeper, with the uncorked bottle in his hand--the bottle from which cameforth smoke, though it was cold. But Ibrahim rolled screaming, andstrove to thrust his face into the ground. 'It is strange indeed,' musedAbdul Haq, stroking his beard, while none smiled. 'Strange, in everytruth. But thou hast not dropped the drops, Mir Saheb. Perchance he willarise and thank thee and be cured of this madness when he feels thehealing anointment that so benefited thine own eyes. Oh, the clevernessof these European _hakims_,' and he raised hands and eyes in wonder ashe sighed piously.
"'Yea--perchance he will,' agreed my brother and bade Moussa Isa holdhim by the ears with his face to the sky while the _oont-wallahs_ kepthim on his back. And Ibrahim's body heaved up those four strong men asit bent like a bow and bucked like a horse, while my brother removed thecork once again.
"His shrieks delighted my soul.
"''Tis a marvellous mystery to me,' sighed my brother. 'He knows howinnocent and healing are these waters and yet he refuses them. He saw meuse them on my own eyes--and surely the medicine is unchanged?' And hebalanced the bottle sideways above the face of his enemy and allowed thedevilish acid to well up and impend upon the very edge of the neck ofthe bottle, as he murmured: 'But a single drop for each eye! More Icannot spare--to-day. Perchance a drop for each ear to-morrow, and onefor his tongue on the next day--if his madness spare him to us for solong.'
"Then, as Ibrahim, foaming, shrieked curses and cried aloud to Allahand Mohammed his Prophet, he said: 'Nay, this is ingratitude. He shallnot have them to-day at all, but shall endure without them till sunriseto-morrow. Take him yonder, and lay him on that flat rock, bareheaded inthe sun, that his tears may be dried for him.' ...
"Yea! I found no fault with my brother then, Sahib.
"He was a master in his revenge. And the _durbar_ murmured its applause,and praised and thanked my brother. Not one of them but had suffered atthe hands of Mahmud Shahbaz, his father, the Vizier, or at the insolenthands of this his own son.... Then Mir Jan called to Moussa Isa, hisbody-servant, and said unto him:--
"'Hear, Moussa Isa, and make no tiny error if thou wouldst seeto-morrow's sun and go to Paradise anon. Feed that carrion well andpretend to be filled with the pity that is the child of avarice. Askwhat he will give thee to help him to escape. Affect to haggle long, andspeak much of the difficulties and dangers of the deed. At length agreeto put him on my fast camel this night at moon-rise, if thou art left ashis guard and we are wrapt in slumber. Play thy part well, and show thyremorse at cheating thy master--even for a lakh[35] of rupees--yea, andshow fear of what will happen to thee, and pretend distrust of him. Atlength succumb again, and as the moon just shows above the mountainsuntie his bonds and do thus and thus--' and he whispered instructionswhile a light shone in the eyes of Moussa Isa, the Somali, and a smileplayed about his mouth.
[35] One hundred thousand.
"And Mir Jan told the matter that night to all and gave instructions.
"Moussa Isa meanwhile did everything as he was bid and, while we ate, hecarried his own food to the Weeper, as though secretly.
"Long and merrily we feasted, pretending to drink to excess of theforbidden _sharab_, singing and behaving like toddy-laden coolies, andin time we staggered to our carpets, put on our _poshteens_,[36] pulledrugs over our heads and slept--not.
[36] Warm sheep-skin coats.
"From under his rug my brother kept watch. Shortly after, Moussa Isaarose from beside Ibrahim the Weeper and crawled like a snake to wherethe camels knelt in a ring, and there he saddled the swift white camelof Mir Jan, and I heard its bubbling snarl as he made it rise, and ledit over near to where Ibrahim lay. There he made it kneel again, and,throwing the nose-rope over its head, he laid the loop thereof, with hisstick, on the front seat of the saddle. This done, he crept back toIbrahim Mahmud and feigned sleep awhile. Anon, none stirring, he beganto untie with his teeth and knife-point the cords that bound thecaptive, and when, at length, the man was free, Moussa chafed hisstiffened arms and legs, his hands and feet.
"When, after a time, Ibrahim tried to rise, he fell again andagain, and the moon not yet having risen above the mountains, theavaricious-seeming Moussa again massaged and chafed the limbs of thevillain Ibrahim, who earnestly prayed Moussa Isa to lay him on thesaddle as he was--and depart ere some sleeper awoke. But Moussa said'twould be vain to start until Ibrahim could sit in the saddle and holdon, and he continued to rub his arms and legs.
"But when the edge of the moon shone above the mountain, Moussa placedthe arm of Ibrahim around his neck, put his arm round Ibrahim's body,and staggered with him to where the racing-camel knelt. After a fewsteps the strength of Ibrahim seemed to return, and, by the time theyreached the camel, he could totter on his feet and stand without help.With some difficulty Moussa hoisted him into the rear saddle. Havingdone so, he thrust the stirrups upon his feet and commenced to unwindhis puggri.
"'Mount, mount!' whispered Ibrahim.
"'Nay, I must tie thee on,' replied Moussa Isa and, knotting one end ofthe _puggri_ to the back of the saddle, he passed it twice round Ibrahimand tied the other end near the first. This done, and Ibrahim being in afrantic fever of haste and fear and hope, Moussa Isa commenced tobargain, Ibrahim agreeing to every demand and promising even more.
"'Anything! anything!' he shrieked beneath his breath. 'Bargain as wego. You cannot ask too much. I and my father will strip ourselves forthee.' ... And having tortured him awhile, Moussa sprang into the saddleand brought the camel to its feet--as my brother's voice said, softlyand sweetly:--
"'Wouldst thou leave us, O Ibrahim, my friend?' and my own chimed in:--
"'Could'st thou leave us, O Ibrahim, my brother's friend?' and the voiceof Abdul Haq followed with:--
"'Shouldst thou leave us, O Ibrahim, my cousin's friend?' and HusseinAli's voice added:--
"'Do not leave us, O Ibrahim, my friend's friend.' Like the wolf-pack,every other voice in the camp in turn implored:--
"'Never leave us, O Ibrahim, our master's friend.'
"'Go! go!' shrieked Ibrahim, kicking with his heels at the camel's sidesand striking at Moussa Isa, as that obedient youth, raising his stick,caused the camel to bound forward, and drove it, swiftly trotting--towhere my brother lay, and there made it kneel again....
"Dost thou sleep, Huzoor?"
"Nay, Mir Saheb," I replied, "nor would I till your tale be done and Ihave seen the return of another reconnoitring-patrol. We might then taketurns.... Nay, I w
ill not sleep at all. 'Tis too near dawn--when thingsare wont to happen in time of war."
Little did the worthy Subedar-Major guess how, or why, his taleenthralled me.
"I have nearly done, Sahib.... On the morrow my brother said: 'To-day Iwill make an end. After the evening prayer let all assemble and beholdthe anointing of the eyes of Ibrahim the Weeper with the same balm thathe intended to be applied to mine.' And during the day men drove strongstakes deep into the ground, the distance between them being equal tothe width of Ibrahim's head, which they measured--telling him why. Alsopegs were driven into the ground convenient for the fastening of hishands and feet, and stones were collected as large as men could carry.
"And, after evening prayer and prostration we took Ibrahim, and forcinghis head between the stakes so that he could not turn it, we tied hishands and feet to the pegs and weighted his body with the stones, beingcareful to do him no injury and to cause no such pain as might detractfrom the real torture, and lessen his punishment.
"And then Mir Jan stood over him with the bottle and said, softly andsweetly:--
"'Ibrahim, my friend, thou didst vow upon me a vengeance, the telling ofwhich should turn men pale, because I struck thee for torturing myservant. And now I return good for thine evil, for I take pity on thyweeping eyes and heal them. These several days thou hast refused thisbenefaction with floods of tears, and sobs and screams. Now, behold, andsee how foolish thou hast been,' and he spilt a drop from the bottle, sothat it fell near the face of Ibrahim, but not on it.
"And I was amazed to see that the stone upon which the drop fell did notbubble and boil. This prolongation and refinement of the torture I couldappreciate and enjoy--but why did not the acid affect the stone? 'Twasas though mere cold water had fallen upon it. Nor was the bottle smokingas always hitherto.
"And even as I wondered, my brother quickly stooped and dashed some ofthe contents of the bottle in the eyes of Ibrahim the Weeper.
"With a shriek that pierced our ear-drums and must have been heard formany kos,[37] Ibrahim writhed and jerked so that the stones were thrownfrom his body and the pegs that held his feet and hands were torn fromthe ground. The stakes holding his head firmly, he flung his body overuntil his head was beneath it and then back again, and screamed like awounded horse. At last he wrenched his head free, and, holding his handsto his face--which appeared to be in no way injured--leapt up and ranround and round in circles, until he was seized, and, by my brother'sorders, his hands were torn from his face.
[37] Kos = two miles.
"And behold, his eyes and face were unmarked and uninjured, and theliquid that dripped upon his clothing made no mark and did no hurt.
"'_Blind_,' he shrieked,' I am _blind!_ O Merciful Allah, my eyes!' andhe fell, howling.
"'Now that is very strange,' said my brother, 'for I threw pure, plain,cold water in his face. See me drink of the remainder!' and he drankfrom the bottle, and so did I, in fear and wonder. Cold, pure, fairwater it was, and nothing else!
"But Ibrahim the Weeper was blind. Stone blind to his dying day andnever looked upon the sun again. Little drops of water had struck himblind. Nay, the Hand of Allah had struck him blind--him who had cried:'_May Allah strike me blind_ if I do not unto thee a thing of whichchildren yet unborn shall speak with awe". He had tried to do such athing and God had struck him blind--though my brother, who was verylearned, spoke of self-suggestion, and of imagination being sometimesstrong enough to make the imagined come to pass. (He told of a man whodied for no reason, on a certain day at a certain hour, because hisfather had done so and he believed that _he_ would also. But more likelyit was witchcraft and he was under a curse.)
"Howbeit, little drops of pure water blinded Ibrahim the Weeper. Andthere the foreign blood of my poor brother showed forth. He could notescape the taint and was weak. At the last moment he had wavered and,like a fool, had forgiven his enemy."
"Was he a Christian?" I asked (and had often wondered in the past).
"_Nahin_, Sahib! He was a Mussulman, my father having had him taughtwith special care by a holy _moulvie_,[38] by reason of the fact thathis mother had had him sprinkled with holy water by her priests and hadtaught him the tenets of the Christian faith--doubtless a high and nobleone since your honour is of it."
[38] Priest.
"He had been taught the Christian doctrines, then?"
"Without doubt, Sahib. Throughout his childhood; in the absence of hisfather. And doubtless this aided his foreign blood in making him actthus foolishly."
"Doubtless," I agreed, with a smile.
"Yea, at the last moment he had put his vengeance from him and behavedlike a weak fool, throwing away the acid, cleaning the bottle andfilling it with pure water. He had intended to give Ibrahim a fright(and also the opprobrious title of _the Weeper_), to teach him a lessonand to let him go--provided he swore on the Q'ran never to return toMekran Kot when he left for England.... Such a man was my poor brother.But the hand of Allah intervened and Ibrahim the Weeper lived and diedstone blind.... A strange man that poor brother of mine, strong savewhen his foreign blood and foreign religion arose like poison within himand made him weak.... There was the case of the English SergeantLarnce-Ishmeet whom he spared and sent into the English lines in thelittle Border War."
"Lance-Sergeant Smith? What regiment?" I asked.
"I know not, Sahib, save that it was a British Infantry Regiment. (Hewas not Lance-Sergeant Ishmeet but Sergeant Larnce-Ishmeet.) We ... Imean ... they ... slew many of a Company that was doing rear-guard andtheir officers being slain and many men also, a Sergeant took them offwith great skill. Section by section, from point to point he retiredthem, and our ... their ... triumphant joy at the capture and slaughterof the Company was changed to gnashing of teeth--for we lost many andthe Company retired safely on the main body. But we got the Sergeant,badly wounded, and my brother would not have him slain. Rather he showedhim much honour and had him borne to Mekran Kot, and when he was healedhe took him to within sight of the outermost Khyber fort and set himfree.... Yet was he not an enemy, Sahib, taken in war? Strangeweaknesses had my poor brother...."
"I knew a Sergeant-Major Lawrence-Smith," I remarked, as light dawned onme after pondering "Larnce-Ishmeet." "He shot himself at Duri some timeago."
"He was a brave man," said Mir Daoud Khan. "Peace be upon him."
"And what became of your brother?" I asked, although I knew only toowell--alas!
"He left Mekran Kot when I did, Sahib, for our father died, the old JamSaheb was poisoned, and we had to flee or die. I never saw him again forhe made much money (out of rifles), travelled widely, and became aSahib (and I followed the _pultan_[39]). But he died as a Pathanshould--for his honour. In Gungapur jail they hanged him (after thefailure of the foolish attempt by some seditious Sikhs and Punjabis andBengalis at a second Great Killing) and I do not care to speak of thatthing even to--"
[39] Infantry Regiment.
A sputter of musketry broke out in the thick vegetation of theriver-bed, crackled and spread, as Subedar-Major Mir Daoud Khan (onceagainst the civilized, brave and distinguished officer) and I sprang toour feet and hurried to our posts--I, even at that moment, thinking howsmall a World is this, and how long is the long arm of Coincidence. Herewas I, while waiting for what then seemed almost certain death, hearingfrom the lips of his own brother, the early history of the remarkable,secretive and mysterious man whom I had loved above all men, and whosedeath had been the tragedy of my life.