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
Webster must be told, and Jaffa was the man to tell him, because, if he
was seen, his clothes at a distance might be mistaken for those of an
Arab.
I told him to make his way to the top of the ridge, find out what was
happening down in the valley, how far away the horses were, and how many
men had been left with them. Then he had to work his way along beneath
the sky-line to Webster, and tell him to separate his men, station them
on the top of the ridge so that they could not be seen, but, if
possible, be able to fire down both ways, and, when I opened fire, to do
so himself at every armed Arab in sight.
Jaffa understood, took my field-glasses, and wriggled away up to the
ridge, whilst Griffiths and I listened to the noise of grating stones.
Then there was silence and what seemed a very long period of waiting
whilst we anxiously watched that rear-guard descending. If we did not
open fire soon it would be too late.
At last I could stand the strain no longer. Jaffa must have had time to
reach Webster, although we had not seen him crawling over the ridge.
Already the leading men of the rear-guard were indistinct in the gloom
of the lower zigzags.
"We must chance it," I whispered to Griffiths. "You scramble up till you
get a comfortable place where you can see both ways. I’ll go halfway
towards the gap. When I open fire you commence; aim awfully carefully.
Now go!"
We both rose stiffly to our hands and knees, dodged round the rocks, and
separated. Some cartridges fell out of my bandolier. I stopped to pick
them up: one cartridge might make all the difference. I crawled to the
top of the ridge.
I gave one hurried look into the valley, but not a sign of horses or
Arabs could I see. I threw myself down and crawled to the edge of a
rock from where I could point my rifle into the darkening "coffee-cup".
As I did so I saw Webster and his two marines leave their shelter and
clamber up the crest on their side of the gap.
There was no time to wait; the excitement was too great to think what
would be the result of this new move, too great to realize anything.
Not twenty armed Arabs were in sight down in that vast hollow beneath
us, little, dirty, whitish, moving figures threading their way past the
motionless camels.
I took a very careful aim at the nearest and fired.
*CHAPTER X*
*The Fight in the "Coffee-cup"*
As I fired so did Griffiths; our two rifles went off almost together.
We fired again. Three shots also came from Webster’s side of the gap.
The effect was immediate.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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