On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the TigrisBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
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On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Juvenile fiction
"You are simply splendid, Phil, old boy," he told him enthusiastically,
and still in the lowest of low whispers. "Of course I'll back you up
through thick and thin. I'll wait till I hear the old boy plump
overboard, and have the dinghy already cast loose, and ready to push off
into the river. Hauling him aboard will be no easy matter, but it's got
to be done, and without capsizing the dinghy. Then you'll have to join
us, though the combined weight of the three will almost sink this
cockle-shell. Still, it's the smallest of our adventures, and once we
are all aboard we'll have got through with the greater part of the
business. Ready?" he asked.
"Aye! Ready!" said Philip in the most careless manner possible.
Stretching his hand overhead, he caught the rope to which the dinghy was
made fast and put his full weight on it. Then he lifted himself out of
the dinghy, and very slowly and gingerly lowered himself into the water,
making not so much as a splash in doing so. A vigorous stroke with his
legs took him as far as the rudder of the steamer, and for a moment his
fingers played about it; then, gripping the bilge keel which ran round
the side of the steamer, and against which the water lapped continually,
he pulled himself forward up-stream, finding but little difficulty in
carrying out his purpose. It took him perhaps five minutes to reach the
bows of the vessel--five solid minutes, during which he had to stop on
two occasions, the first to allow the Commander of the vessel to tramp
to the opposite side, and the second for the same reason when he came
opposite the beat of the sentry. Then his fingers lit upon the
stem-post, and, pulling himself up out of the water, he reached for the
rail, only to find that it was a foot or more above him, and quite out
of his reach, in spite of all his efforts. But Phil was not the sort of
British officer to give way easily, or to allow himself to be lightly
beaten. Indeed, there are few of them of whom this cannot be said; for a
more resourceful, more gallant, and a more dashing set of young men no
country has ever possessed, and no finer set of young fellows have ever
obeyed the national call to duty.
"Beastly high up--rather a bother!" was all he told himself while he
clung to the stem-post and considered. Then, placing his stockinged feet
against the post, and heading up-stream, he shot himself forward through
the water with a violent kick, and, groping about, soon gripped the
cable to which the steamer was moored.
"Cable all right! Good, sound, honest rope," he chuckled. "And there's
that sentry to be considered. It seems to me that I might easily cut
through the rope just here on the water-level and leave it hanging by a
thread; then, by the time it has parted, the stream will have washed me
down to the after end of the steamer, and I shall be ready for the last
act in this drama. That's it! That's the ticket! And here goes for the
cable!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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