Captured at Tripoli: A Tale of AdventureWesterman, Percy F. (Percy Francis)
History
Captured at Tripoli: A Tale of Adventure
Westerman, Percy F. (Percy Francis)
Tripoli (Libya) -- History -- 20th century -- Juvenile fiction; Turco-Italian war, 1911-1912 -- Juvenile fiction
FOR several days the captives' lot, though hard, was not oppressive.
Save for the fetters on their wrists, they were not subjected to
bonds, nor were their movements restricted, within certain limits.
Their work consisted in having to tend and water the camels, horses,
and cattle, and to cultivate a strip of land on the banks of the
river. Although, generally speaking, the Arabs are a nomadic race,
and do not take kindly to husbandry, this fertile strip of ground
offered too good an opportunity of cultivating maize to be ignored;
and the work was delegated to the slaves, most of whom were of negro
descent, while some were Arabs who, through offences committed
against the tribal laws and customs, were reduced to compulsory
servitude.
The Englishmen's clothing, long since in rags, was now barely enough
to cover them; but, hardened to the sun's rays, the discomfort was
less than they had anticipated. Reeves's chief source of anxiety on
this account was concerning his automatic pistol and ammunition,
till, fearing that the ragged state of his clothing would reveal the
precious treasure, he stealthily wrapped the weapon and cartridges in
a fragment of sheepskin, and hid them under a rock at some distance
from the camp.
The man's indomitable spirit seemed to buoy up the flagging energies
of his two young companions; but although many plans were brought
forward when the question of escaping was discussed, it was deemed
prudent to wait events. The correspondent kept a marvellous control
over himself, never once by word or gesture allowing the Arabs to
suspect that he was fairly conversant with their tongue. Yet he
failed to overhear any reliable information relating to the land that
lay to the south of the Plateau of Ahaggar: to the Arabs it was
almost a forbidden subject.
"It seems to me," he once remarked, "that our only chance of escape
lies in making a dash to the south. This river must lead somewhere,
unless it is lost in the sand. The fact that the country in that
direction seems to be in disfavour with the Arabs is in our favour.
Returning by the way we came is a physical impossibility. To the
dangers of crossing the desert is added the likelihood of falling
into the hands of another tribe, in which case our position would be
far worse than it is at present."
"But where do you think the river leads to?" asked Hugh.
"I can only conjecture. Since we are on the highest ground of the
great Sahara, it may be that the river flows into Nigerian territory.
If we make the attempt, it will be no light task."
"Anything will be better than dragging out a miserable existence
here," replied Gerald.
"As I have said before, we must not spoil everything by being
premature," rejoined Mr. Reeves. "Still, we must not be content with
discussing the matter; we must act."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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