CHAPTER XXXIX.
CONCLUSION.
On a warm, sultry evening in the latter part of May the Arabs andSomalis who hovered about the outskirts of Zaila, keeping well out ofreach of the newly-erected fortifications which bristled with guns andBritish soldiery, heard the sweet strains of "Rule Britannia" and "GodSave the Queen" floating over the desert.
It was the regimental band of the Ninth Lancers playing in the square ofthe town on the occasion of the installation of the new governor ofZaila--Colonel Conyers Gordon.
It was Colonel Gordon who had conducted the assault on the town someweeks previous, and in recognition of his valor--for the enemy had madea desperate stand--he was now the newly commissioned governor.
The official documents had arrived that day, and the town was _en fete_,if we may use the expression; for, in addition to the native populationand the soldiery, a number of visitors had come across from Aden to dohonor to the brave commandant.
As the band ceased playing, Colonel Gordon appeared on the steps of theresidency and briefly addressed the expectant people in a fewwell-chosen words.
"The tragedy of a few months ago," he concluded, "is still fresh in ourminds. I had the honor to know Sir Arthur Ashby, an honor which many ofyou likewise enjoyed, and the sad fate of that brave man and hiscompanions comes vividly to our minds tonight. I trust that I shall beenabled to discharge the duties of my office with the same unswervingfidelity."
Colonel Gordon sat down, and the band played "Rule Britannia."
At that moment the Rhine Castle was dropping anchor in the harbor.
As the band ceased Colonel Gordon rose again, and the people instantlybecame quiet. By his side was a short, thickset man with dark, sallowfeatures.
"I beg to call your attention," began the colonel, "to one who hasplayed an important part in our recent struggle--Mr. Manuel Torres, aPortuguese, of whom I can say nothing better than that he deserves to bean Englishman. At the risk of his own life he tried to save Sir ArthurAshby, and after suffering much at the hands of the enemy, he finallyescaped in time to do us valuable service in retaking the town. As arecognition of his aid, I propose to appoint him Assistant PoliticalResident."
Mr. Torres bowed profoundly, and as the people evinced a decided desireto hear from him, he cleared his throat and began to speak in sleek,oily tones.
He related, with many gestures, a thrilling tale of his captivity amongthe Arabs, the desperate attempts he had made to save Sir Arthur and theEnglishmen from slavery, and how finally he had effected his ownmarvelous escape.
At this point a sudden commotion on the outskirts of the crowdtemporarily interrupted the speaker.
"It grieves me deeply," he went on, "to reflect on the sad destiny of mydear friend, Sir Arthur Ashby, and of those brave men, for whom I hadthe highest honor and regard. I risked my life to save them. Iinterceded with the Arab leader, Makar Makalo, but in vain. He wasobdurate. To bring them back from slavery I would willingly lay down mylife this minute. I would gladly----"
What else Mr. Manuel Torres was willing to do no one ever knew or willknow. He ceased speaking abruptly, and his sallow face assumed a ghastlylook.
Through the opening ranks of the people advanced a group of pale andhaggard men, led by a ghastly figure with sandy side whiskers in a fadeduniform that hung about his shrunken limbs.
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed this odd-looking stranger. "It's thatrascally Portuguese, Manuel Torres!"
A great silence fell on the people. For one second the Portuguesetrembled like a leaf, then he turned and bolted through the residencydoor, shoving Colonel Gordon roughly aside in his mad haste.
"Stop him! Stop him!" roared the stranger. "A thousand pounds to the manwho takes him alive. He's the ringleader of the insurrection!"
Colonel Gordon hurried down the steps in bewildered amazement.
"What does this mean?" he demanded. "Who are you?"
"Who am I?" shouted he of the sandy whiskers. "Why, blast yourimpudence, I'm Sir Arthur Ashby, the governor of Zaila. Who the deuceare you?"
The scene that followed baffles all description. The air rang withfrenzied shouts and cheers, soldiers, natives, and visitors surged madlyround the little band, and the musicians, quick to grasp the situation,struck up the inspiring strains of "Lo, the Conquering Hero Comes!"
Sir Arthur shook himself loose from the embrace of his enthusiasticfriends.
"The Portuguese!" he roared. "The rascal will escape. Pursue him!Capture him!"
Now the people comprehended for the first time. A furious rush was madefor the residency, the door was jammed in an instant with a strugglingcrowd of troops and civilians, and then they swept on through the broadhallway in pursuit of the wretched fugitive.
In five minutes the town was in an indescribable uproar. The vessels inthe harbor fired showers of rockets, and the alarm guns boomed hoarselyfrom the fortifications.
Manuel Torres, however, overthrown at the very moment of his greatesttriumph, made good his escape. He bolted through the back door of theresidency, evaded the sentries at the town wall, and fled to the desert.
That same night, after a sumptuous repast, Guy Chutney, at Sir Arthur'srequest, modestly related the story of their adventures to the mostinterested audience that ever graced the walls of the residency. Abreathless silence greeted the speaker as he showed the damnable proofsof Manuel Torres' guilt and treachery, and described with thrillingeffect the awful journey through the bowels of the earth. When heconcluded the tale that made him a hero in spite of himself, a burst ofapplause fairly made the residency tremble.
Then Sir Arthur rose to his feet.
"Gentlemen," he said, in a voice which quivered with emotion, "I deemthis to be a fitting time to express my--to express _our_--admiration ofmy young countryman. All my comrades, I am glad to say, displayed aheroism, during our days of trial and suffering, which has never beensurpassed by any men in any clime. But, if one man is worthy of specialmention for cool bravery, for dogged perseverance, for unflinching,unwavering fortitude and unselfishness, that man is Guy Chutney.Gentlemen," he continued, raising his glass, "I ask you to drink with meto the health of the bravest man I ever met--Guy Chutney."
Again a frantic outburst of applause shook the building, and the toastwas drunk with indescribable enthusiasm. But Guy strove to make himselfheard above the uproar.
"It is unfair," he said earnestly, when quiet had been partiallyrestored, "of Sir Arthur to credit me with what I am aware is far morethan my just due. Truthfully, it should be said that no one of ussurpassed his fellows in displaying the qualities Sir Arthur has justenumerated. Such an experience is enough for a lifetime, but if I amever again called upon to face such perils as we encountered while underAfrica, may God grant that I have for comrades such true-hearted, loyalfriends as these."
Carrington, Forbes, and Canaris each spoke briefly in turn; and Bildad,under the undue excitement of some wine he had managed to secure,attempted to perform a Galla war-dance on the table, and was promptlyrelegated to the guard-house to sober up.
At midnight a steamer left Zaila for Aden with the glad news, andtwenty-four hours later the streets of London were blocked with crowdsof people reading the amazing telegram that the newspapers had posted ontheir bulletin boards.
Colonel Conyers Gordon, of course, was not governor of Zaila at all, andthough it must have been a sore disappointment to the brave old soldier,he readily and gladly installed Sir Arthur in the residency and assumedhis former command of the troops.
Sir Arthur, however, had very different views. "Do you mean to say,Gordon," he demanded, "that the government actually gave me up for lost,and had no intention of sending an expedition after me at all?"
Colonel Gordon hesitatingly admitted that such was the case.
"Then," cried Sir Arthur, "I wash my hands of such a government. I willgo home to England, and may the infernal Arabs hang, draw, and quarterme if I ever set foot on African soil again."
"I trust, Sir Arthu
r," argued Colonel Gordon, "you will not act hastilyin this matter. You will admit that the government was somewhatjustified in believing your case a hopeless one. The fate of you andyour brave companions was thought by everybody to have been nothingshort of death. I am sure, had the authorities had the slightest ideathat you were living, an expedition would have been sent out. No stonewould have been left unturned to rescue you."
"Well," said Sir Arthur, somewhat mollified, "I cannot deny that thingspointed to our demise. We expected to see you again as little as youexpected to see us, probably."
"I am glad," said Colonel Gordon, "that you have decided to take a morereasonable view of the matter. Will you not reconsider yourdetermination of resigning your post? Let no consideration for me stopyou, I beg of you. I should, of course, be glad to accept the position,but yours is undoubtedly the prior right, and your previous experiencehas amply proven your ability."
"Colonel," Sir Arthur replied solemnly, "I'm going back to England. I'msick of Africa. I've had a little more than a genteel sufficiency duringthe past few months, and I'm pining for a sight of dear old England. I'mgoing home."
Sir Arthur kept his word. On the same day he mailed his resignation, andhanded the reins of office to Colonel Gordon.
After careful consideration, Colonel Carrington decided to accept thepost of Assistant Political Resident that Gordon offered him, subject,of course, to the wishes of the Foreign Office.
Chutney had at first intended going on to India, but letters from homeinforming him of the serious illness of his brother decided his returnto England, and he sailed from Aden a week later, in company with SirArthur and Melton Forbes, who had been recalled by his paper as soon asthey learned of his wonderful journey.
Canaris accompanied them as far as Port Said, where he changed to avessel bound for Rhodes. He was eager to see Greece after his longcaptivity among the Somalis, and at last accounts he was the proprietorof a celebrated cafe at Athens, having inherited a tidy sum of moneyfrom a deceased relative.
Bildad expressed a desire to go back to the Galla country, and ColonelGordon finally succeeded in obtaining safe passage for him with acaravan bound for the interior.
Manuel Torres met the fate his treachery duly merited. Two days afterhis escape from Zaila he fell into the hands of a party of prowlingArabs, and was conveyed by them to Makar Makalo, who determined that heshould receive fitting punishment for his renegade conduct. Accordinglyhe sent him under strong escort to Harar, and Rao Khan very obliginglycarried out his friend Makar's wishes by cooking the wretched Portuguesein a caldron of boiling oil.
A remarkable thing occurred in the fourth month of Governor Gordon'srulership at Zaila.
A bronzed Englishman arrived one day with a caravan from the interior.
He was speedily recognized as Captain Waller, and he told a strangestory of his adventures.
Mombagolo, the Burman, who, in company with the captain and the Hindoos,had been taken into slavery by a tribe of Gallas who dwelt far to thewest, had been chosen chief of this tribe on the death of its king,probably on account of his stature and strength.
His first royal act was to effect the deliverance of Captain Waller bysending him to the coast. The Hindoos had chosen to remain where theywere. Captain Waller eventually returned to England, and Forbes wasdeeply grieved to learn that he would never see Momba again, though itwas some consolation to know that, instead of a slave, he was an Africanmonarch.
Guy reached England barely in time to see his brother before he died. AsSir Lucius Chutney was unmarried, Guy succeeded to the titles andestates.
As a landed proprietor, his duties very plainly lay at home, so heresigned his commission and settled down on the Hampshire estate.
He spends much of his time in London. He and Sir Arthur Ashby aremembers of the same club, and the two baronets invariably dinetogether.
"Chutney," Sir Arthur said one day, as he lit his cigar after dinner,"have you ever felt any desire to leave England and resume anadventurous life?"
Chutney puffed a moment in silence.
"Sometimes," he said finally. "Sometimes I feel as though I should enjoylaying aside home comforts, and, gun in hand, enter the tracklessforests once more. Somehow civilization palls on a man after years ofcampaigning. Don't you find it so, Ashby?"
"That," replied Sir Arthur, "is just what I was getting at. Generally Ifeel a placid contentment with things in general, but once in a while asort of fever stirs my blood, and I long to get out and rough itsomewhere. I tell you, a wild life has a certain charm about it thatdies out reluctantly when the fever once gets into a man's blood. Someday I really believe I'll return to Africa, or some other wild land, forbig game. I should enjoy it."
Chutney grasped his hand.
"When you do, old fellow, I'm with you," he said. But so far they havenot decided on any definite arrangements. They talk it over frequently,but continue to dine at the club.
Sometimes Forbes drops in, and then from soup to the wine theconversation is sure to cling with unwavering fidelity to that topic ofdeepest interest--the strange and thrilling things that befell them whenthey were under Africa.
THE END.
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