CHAPTER XX
THE WAITING MENACE
"Ah, sure now, but that's fine!" exclaimed the major with delight, hiseyes beginning to sparkle in anticipation. "The best of news! A littleaction, eh? I ask nothing better. All I ask is that we live to reachthe committee--live to be properly killed! It's this dying-alive thatkills _me_! Faith, it tears the nerves clean out of my body!"
"That is a true Arab idea, Major," smiled Leclair. "To this extent youare brother to the Bedouin. They call a man _fatis_, as a reproach,who dies any other way than fighting. May you never--may none ofus--ever suffer the disgrace of being _fatis_!"
"There's not much danger of that!" put in the Master. "That's a bigwar-party, and we're drifting ashore almost exactly where they'rewaiting. From the appearance of the group, they look like Beni Harbpeople--'Sons of Fighting' you know--though I didn't expect we'd sightany of that breed so far to westward."
"Beni Harb, eh?" echoed the Frenchman, his face going grim. "Ah,_mes amis_, it is with pleasure I see that race, again!" He sightedcarefully through his glass, as _Nissr_ sagged on and on, ever closerto the waves, ever nearer the hard, sun-roasted shores of Africa."Yes, those are Beni Harb men. _Dieu_! May it be Sheik Abd el Rahman'stribe! May I have strength to repay the debt I owe them!"
"What debt, Lieutenant?" asked the chief.
Leclair shrugged his shoulders.
"A personal matter, my Captain! A personal debt I owe them--withinterest!"
"You will have nearly a score and a half of good fighting men to helpyou settle your account," smiled the Master. Then, to Bohannan: "Itlooks now, Major, as if you'd have a chance to try your sovereignremedy."
"Faith! Machine-guns, eh?"
"Yes, provided we get near enough to use them."
"No vibrations this time, eh?" demanded the Celt, a bit ofgood-humored malice in his voice. "Vibrations are all very well intheir way, sir, but when it comes to a man-to-man fight--"
"It's not that, Major," the chief interrupted. "We haven't theavailable power, now, for high-tension current. So we must fall backon lesser means.
"You, sir, and Lieutenant Leclair, get the six gun-crews together attheir stations. When we drift in range, give the Beni Harb a few traysof blanks. That may scatter them without any further trouble. We wantpeace, but if it's got to be war, very well. If they show real fight,rake them hard!"
"They will show fight, surely enough, mon capitaine," put in Leclair,as he and the major made their way to the oddly tiptilted door leadingback into the main corridor. "I know these folk. No blank cartridgeswill scatter that breed. Even the Turks are afraid of them. They havea proverb: 'Feed the Beni Harb, and they will fire at Allah!' Thatsays it all.
"Mohammed laid a special curse on them. I imagine your orderly, Rrisa,will have something to say when he learns that we have Beni Harb asopponents. Now, sir, we shall make all haste to get the machine-gunsinto action!"
Major Bohannan laughed with more enjoyment than he had shown since_Nissr_ had left America. They both saluted and withdrew. When thedoor was closed again, a little silence fell in the pilot-house, thefloor of which had now assumed an angle of nearly thirty degrees.The droning of the helicopters, the drift of the sickly white smokethat--rising from _Nissr's_ stern--wafted down-wind with her, thedrunken angle of her position all gave evidence of the seriousposition in which the Flying Legion now found itself. Suddenly theMaster spoke. His dismissal of Bohannan and Leclair had given him theopportunity he wanted.
"Captain Alden," said he, bruskly, with the unwillingness ofa determined man forced to reverse a fixed decision. "I havereconsidered my dictum regarding you."
"Indeed, sir?" asked the woman, from where she stood leaning againstthe sill of the slanted window. "You mean, sir, I am to stay with theLegion, till the end?"
"Yes. Your service in having shot down the stowaway renders itimperative that I show you some human recognition. You gainedadmission to this force by deception, and you broke parole and escapedfrom the stateroom where I had imprisoned you. But, as you haveexplained to me, you heard the explosion, you heard the outcry ofpursuit, and you acted for my welfare.
"I can weigh relative values. I grant your request. The score is wipedclean. You shall remain, on one condition."
"And what is that, sir?" asked "Captain Alden," with a voice ofinfinite relief.
"That you still maintain the masculine disguise. The presence of awoman, as such, in this Legion, would be a disturbing factor. Youaccept my terms?"
"Certainly! May I ask one other favor?"
"What favor?"
"Spare Kloof and Lombardo!"
"Impossible!"
"I know their guilt, sir. Through their carelessness in not havingdiscovered the stowaway and in having let him escape, the Legion camenear sudden death. I know _Nissr_ is a wreck, because of them. Still,we need men, and those two are good fighters. Above all, we needLombardo, the doctor I ask you to spare them at least their lives!"
"That is the woman's heart in you speaking, now," the chief answered,coldly. His eyes were far ahead, where the war-party was beginningto debouch on the white sands along the shore--full three hundredfighting-men, or more, well armed, as the tiny sparkles of sunlightflicking from weapons proved. As _Nissr_ drew in to land, the BeniHarb grew visible to the naked eye, like a swarm of ants on the desertrim.
"The woman's heart," repeated the Master. "That is your only fault andweakness, that you are a woman and that you forgive."
"You grant my request?"
"No, Captain. Nor can I even discuss it. Those two men have cutthemselves off from the Legion and signed their own death warrant.The sentence I have decided on, must stand. Do not speak of this to meagain, madam! Now, kindly withdraw."
"Yes, sir!" And Alden, saluting, approached the door.
"One moment! Send Leclair back to me. Inform Ferrara that he is tocommand the second gun-crew."
"Yes, sir!" And the woman was gone.
Leclair appeared, some moments later. He suspected nothing of thesubterfuge whereby the Master had obtained a few minutes' conversationalone with "Captain Alden."
"You sent for me, sir?" asked the Frenchman.
"I did. I have some questions to ask you. Others can handle the guns,but you have special knowledge of great importance to me. And first,as an expert ace, what are our chances of making that shore, sir, nowprobably five miles off? In a crisis, I always want to ask an expert'sopinion."
Leclair peered from under knit brows at the altimeter needle and theinclinometer. He leaned from the pilot-house window and looked down atthe waves, now hardly a hundred feet below, their foaming hiss quiteaudible. From those waves, red light reflected as the sun sank,illuminated the Frenchman's lean, brown features and flung up waveringpatches of illumination against the pilot-house ceiling of burnishedmetal, through the tilted windows that sheerly overhung the water.
"_Eh bien_--" murmured Leclair, noncommittally.
"Well, can we make it, sir?"
The ace inspected the vacuum-gauges, the helicopter tachometers, andshrugged his shoulders.
"'_Fais tout, toi-meme, et Dieu t'aidera_,'" he quoted the cynical oldFrench proverb. "If nothing gives way, there is a chance."
"If we settle into the sea, do you think that with our damaged floatswe can drive ashore without breaking up?"
"I do not, my Captain. There is a heavy sea running, and the surf isbad on the beach. This Rio de Oro coast is cruel. Have you our exactposition?"
"Almost exactly on the Tropic of Cancer, half-way between Cape Bojadorto north of us, and Cape Blanco, to south."
"Yes, I understand. That brings us to the Tarmanant region of theSahara. Fate could not have chosen worse for us. But, _c'est laguerre_. All I regret, however, is that in a crippled condition wehave to face a war-party of the Beni Harb. Were we intact, and a matchfor them, how gladly would I welcome battle with that scum of Islam!Ah, the _canaille_!"