Gunboat and Gun-runner: A Tale of the Persian GulfJeans, T. T. (Thomas Tendron)
General
Gunboat and Gun-runner: A Tale of the Persian Gulf
Jeans, T. T. (Thomas Tendron)
Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Illegal arms transfers -- Fiction; Persian Gulf -- Fiction
Then the sheikh gave more orders. Men began calling down to those on
the paths of the zigzag, immediately underneath the helpless camel, and
I saw these hurriedly making large gaps in the line of camels. Two men
took hold of the poor brute’s halter and hauled the head round until it
was touching the hind quarters; the others, gathering at the side of the
camel farther from the precipice below, using their rifles as levers and
also pressing against his lean flanks, shoved "all together"; the men on
the head-rope tugged the head still farther round, and the helpless
brute toppled over the edge. Rolling and falling, sliding through the
gaps in the lines beneath, bounding from boulder to boulder, he at last
"fetched up", two hundred feet below, against a rock, and lay there a
shapeless mass of broken back and neck and legs.
The two vultures hopped about excitedly and flapped a little farther
down, eyeing the remains with twisted heads.
At another order from the sheikh those bundles were torn open, and I
simply "thrilled" to see at least two dozen rifles—brand-new
rifles—hauled out. Each man, taking one or two of them as he passed,
started off again along the zigzag path after the rest of the camels.
The sheikh, clambering down to the path, followed them slowly, and that
procession of camels commenced afresh through the gap, camel after
camel, until I had counted eighty-three. After the eighty-third came
many more, pace by pace, with weary feet, but these were loaded with
boxes of ammunition. No attempts had been made to conceal that fact;
the boxes were just as they had left the manufacturers, slung in great
nets across the camels’ backs.
One hundred and thirty-four passed through, counting both those with
rifles and those with ammunition; and, last of all, led by two men, a
magnificent camel, splendidly caparisoned, with a scarlet,
silver-embroidered cloth and with silver-mounted harness, stalked
angrily through, followed by two smaller ones with unwieldy burdens.
These three were doubtless the sheikh’s own camels, his riding camel and
the two which carried his tent and the cooking gear and food which he
might want on the march.
No more camels came.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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