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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
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PROBABLY they chose me to seek that little cash account of the Mahdi's hidden somewhere in the desert beyond Khartoum because they knew I had done detective work in queer places and was fond of digging. Anyhow, they told me to find a hoard, if I could, for the government, which represented years of plundering of wretched natives; it would never do to let it be taken away, or used against us, or them.
So behold me turned loose in Upper Egypt with orders to discover some hundreds of bags containing gold coin and jewellery, and never a clue of any kind to go upon. All we guessed was that the treasure lay near Khartoum, since that was where the Mahdi had his headquarters while he was in power, and it was likely to be tucked away at a place, presumably near the Nile, whence it could be easily removed without attracting public attention. I worked on the problem for a week without result, finding myself one evening towards the end of that time at a low-class café in the native town all agog for any information on the great subject.
Strange tales are heard in such places, strange tradition and gossip with the full fervour of The Arabian Nights about it, but no one spoke about the treasure, much thought on just then, until presently my ears caught the sound of an Egyptian questioning a native boatman on the very subject so keenly interesting me.
The questioner was apparently of some education, but not a nice-looking individual. He was crafty and lean, with restless shifting eyes and a sullen cast of countenance. He wore a tunic, loose trousers stuffed into the tops of leather boots, and the usual dingy scarlet fez on his head; a shady sort of customer, but that was of little account, I told myself as I listened with eager attention to his conversation with the man sitting by him.
It appeared he wanted to find a place on the river bank which he described with frequent reference to some lines written in Arabic on a piece of parchment in his hand. The parchment was folded into the shape to go into a soldier's pouch, and there were deep red blood-stains on it. The gentleman in the fez had stolen it from a dead Dervish, I concluded, and the scrap of dried sheep-skin began to interest me intensely.
The boatman was stupid. Mustapha, as I heard him called, did not get much out of him, and presently, finishing his cup of coffee, he paid his score and went into the night, I at his heels.
It was brilliant moonlight outside, clear silver in the shine and inky black in the shadows of the wayside palms. The man walked slowly along towards the river, thinking deeply, till we reached the bank near some fishermen's huts, and there Mustapha came to a stand.
I touched him on the shoulder, and when he had got over his surprise told him I had overheard his talk with the boatman; "apparently we were looking for the same thing, why not combine our efforts and share the liberal commission the Government had offered for the recovery of the hoard?"
Mustapha meditated on this for some time and, as he obviously did not know what else to do, he presently said he would accept my proposal. He then told me he had "found" a letter written by the Mahdi and ordering the bearer to fetch a bag of gold from the hiding place on the river; to leave all else there untouched, and to cover the entrance carefully when he came away.
The exact spot was described on the parchment, and Mustapha gave me a not very clear description of it—"Did I know of any such place within ten miles of Khartoum?"
I thought awhile, then answered I could not recall such a spot; "why not take a boat and go and look for it; the night was young, the moon high, and at least it would be better than doing nothing?"
The Egyptian assented. There were several native boats moored in the shadow of the huts. We knocked up the sleepy owner of one and, for a silver coin or two, secured its use for as long as we liked. Mustapha also borrowed a couple of spades, to which I added an earthen pot of drinking water and a bag of dates, all the food a man needs for a while in the desert.
Before we started I told him again the terms of the attempt; mutual help, an honest conveyance of the treasure, if, by an extraordinary chance, we found it, to the Government, and an equal sharing of the commission. He swore by the Koran he would keep faith, and having shaken hands on the bargain, we went on board and started for our strange adventure.
The sud, or floating weed, which chokes the Nile in certain seasons, lay heavy on the stream for a while, but in between its dense masses there were lanes of silvery brightness where the night-shine touched the current, and after a mile or two it cleared off altogether, leaving the Father of Waters a brilliant roadway, walled on either side by the shadows of overhanging hills. Stars gleamed overhead as we pulled along under the western bank, and now and then a twinkle of light showed in a desert village, but no sound save the splash of a crocodile or cry of a fox on the sands broke the stillness. About five miles up we landed on an open beach backed by low, clay banks. And then an extraordinary thing happened.
WE had come ashore, absolutely by chance, to rest after a long pull, and sat down on the bank, our legs a-dangle over the edge. So far we had seen nothing bearing any resemblance to the place sought for. It seemed a terribly hopeless task, and we took a pull at the water bottle and flicked the date stones of the fruit we were eating over our shoulders in gloomy silence.
"Give me that bit of parchment," I said to my companion presently, "and let me see what I make of it."
He handed me the scrap of blood-stained writing, and I saw at once he had translated the Arabic very indifferently. "An open, sandy beach; a low bank; two solitary palm trees behind; and across the river a hill with a notch in the top"—
"Why man!" I exclaimed, "this very spot where we sit falls in with the description. Here's the beach, yonder the twin palm trees, like tooth-brushes stuck up in the desert, and the other way that hill has a distinct cleft in its top—see! a star is just sinking into the notch."
Mustapha laughed scornfully and shook his head. I studied the scroll again for a minute, then, pondering deeply, stared at the sand under my feet. And there, only a few inches from my boot, lay loosely on the ground a link or two of iron chain. Chain is rare in these regions, the natives cannot afford it, and a little curious, but still not attaching much importance to the matter, I got down and, getting hold of those links which the desert wind had obviously uncovered an hour or two before, gave them a pull. They lifted out another yard or two of chain leading to a place where the bank was sheer, and when I pulled harder, pulled with all my strength in fact, there was a splintering of dry boards, a cracking of mud plaster, and as I tumbled backwards into the dust with the links in my hand a narrow black hatchway opened in the bank, a square of intense blackness in the shadows, like a frame without a picture to it.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes, scarcely knowing what had happened, but Mustapha saw and guessed, and with a yell that sounded unearthly in the silence of the African night, sprang down to investigate. Needless to say, I was after him quickly, and with the help of a small electric torch we were soon into the black hollow. The entrance had been boarded over with planks set on end and a plaster of Nile mud put upon them, the latter so rough it was exactly like the surrounding bank.
Two steps hewn in the soil led down to a little crypt about ten feet square where, to our astonished eyes, was disclosed a vast medley of old rifles and spears propped against the walls, piles of baskets and praying carpets on the floor, boxes containing powder and ammunition elsewhere, and in every direction a perfect Aladdin's cave of miscellaneous properties. But what fascinated us most was a stack of small bags in the darkest and safest corner.
Out came Mustapha's knife and with tumbling hand, cutting the string about one of them, he opened the neck. Gold, shining, yellow gold! It was filled to the brim with coins of every shape and description. The Egyptian's eyes were perfectly wolfish, and his knees knocked together with excitement as he slit string after string and glared at the plunder below. There could be no doubt about it. By an incredible bit of luck we had found what we were looking for, a treasure, which, without that luck, we might have sought a year in vain.
For several minutes neither spoke. We stood gasping with astonishment in the stale heat of the little crypt, spell-bound by the wealth we had hit on. Then by an effort, we roused ourselves, and I proposed we should block the entrance and hurry back to report, and ask for official aid and approval in getting it away. But that did not at all suit the Egyptian, for a reason I knew too well before morning came!
He turned on me with the snarl of a wolf over its prey as I made the suggestion. No thing would do for him but to get the money into the boat at once. "I could help him in that," he observed with a glance from his eyes I did not at the moment understand, and after much haggling he had his way. After all it did not greatly matter. Early to-morrow the hoard would be safe with the authorities, and I should have redeemed the trust placed in me, so we set to work.
And heavens how we worked! The moon dropped; the stars blazed overhead as though the very sky was spangled with golden sequins, the stifling wind blew in from the unseen desert beyond, the swarming crocodiles snapped their jaws in dangerous proximity to our ankles as we waded out and deposited bag after bag of gold in heaps on the bottom boards of the boat, and the perspiration ran down us in streaks as we toiled through the long hours of that night.
At last it was done. We had cleared out every bag of money, the other things must take care of themselves for the moment. As we pushed off a little way from shore and sank panting and exhausted on enough wealth to run the Egyptian Government for a year, the dawn came suddenly. It comes quickly on an English summer morn, but here it was like the drawing of a curtain. The east paled and flushed; the Abyssinian hills started up in an ebony wall against the rosy light, streamers of red shot to the zenith, the stars withering before them; the Father of Waters turned from indigo to lavender, and as the sun came up behind the veiled splendour, gold and red fire played on every crag and pinnacle about us.
Not a sound broke the stillness save the splash of crocodiles seeking for food. The things of the night had gone home, the things of the day were not yet awake. We were in mid stream, and I arose and went into the bows to haul in a mooring rope which was trailing loose in the stream. I coiled it neatly on board, then stood up, good will to all men in my heart and the peace of the lovely morning in my soul, and turning round looked right down the barrel of a heavy military revolver which Mustapha was pointing at me not six feet away.
"Nazarene," he said slowly, his wicked eyes agleam behind the barrel; "your usefulness is over; your time is short; pray if you have an inclination to, you have much need."
"Good heavens, man," I exclaimed, "what is the matter? We have got the treasure; you will get your share of the commission—"
"And do you think I will part with all this for a beggarly commission, part with all this which, on the other side of the river where there is no English authority, will make me a prince, for a miserable dole—you are a fool, Englishman, to have dreamed it. Pray, pray!"
Shame and anger made my face redder than the sunlight which was dancing over the ripples of the stream, as I answered.
"I have toiled to get this stuff on board; I will keep my bargain with you. Do you mean to say that is not enough, that you will shoot me here in cold blood, out of sheer greed and villainy?"
"I do. I let you work while you were useful; now I have no more use for you. See yonder camel, Nazarene; it has come down to drink; it will be but a minute or two; when it lifts its head again from the water, you die. Pray, pray!"
It was true. A little way up the river a solitary camel had come to quench its thirst, and, with legs wide apart, had plunged its nose into the stream. All around was so still you could hear the suck of the water being drawn into its great throat. I knew it would not be long at that draught; I had not the smallest doubt when it was done the villain standing amongst the piled gold opposite would keep his word and shoot without remorse and afterwards toss my body to the ugly beasts swimming round us.
Very slowly I faced him again, and said.
"You mean to say you will break the oath you swore last night, and kill me, who have done you no harm, here, as we stand, without argument or respite?"
"I do!" he answered, his face drawn with the emotions behind it. and his eyes never glancing from the revolver levelled at my head.
"Then, you ugly hound, may whatever deities you believe in have mercy on your soul."
All the time we had been speaking my right hand had been creeping down, hair's breadth by hair's breadth, inch by inch to my own revolver in my belt. As I reached its handle, unnoticed by the Egyptian, there came a low sigh of contentment from up the river, a splash of heavy feet—the camel had finished his drink and was going home. Mustapha and I both saw it; our eyes met once more; his finger tightened slowly on the trigger, and as it did so out of my belt leapt my own weapon, it gleamed a second in the morning light, the red flash jumped from the muzzle before it was at arm's length, the puff of grey smoke drifted over the water!
Like an image cut in wood the Egyptian remained standing a space by the bulwark. Then his face contorted, a slight shiver ran through his frame, the dying muscles of his hand contracted on the trigger, his bullet screamed past my ear, and he began to lean backwards.
Still like a graven image he leant backwards, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The yellow money bags he had coveted slipped from under his yielding feet, the revolver dropped from his fingers, his knees gave way, and headlong he plunged with a heavy splash into the river. Twice he came up, and the second time there was a still heavier splash as a dozen great crocodiles laid hold of him. There was a tornado of notched tails, a boiling froth of blood and foam, and then, as the current of its own accord drifted me round the bend back towards civilization, the ruddy circles died slowly out on the broad bosom of the stream, and the splendid peace of the morning again stole, gracious and unbroken, over the scene.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.