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
The man's face lit up immediately, while he even smiled quite a pleasant
smile upon them. Sour dispositioned, ill-grained, and surly--perhaps
because of the work allotted to him--this man, at the bottom of his
heart, was really not without his virtues. Cunning like many a Turk,
avaricious, and apt to trade upon those at his mercy, he had--in spite
of the order which he had just admitted he had received--namely, that he
was to treat his prisoners with indulgence--in spite of that, he had
looked upon them as helpless, as penniless, as likely to be only a
nuisance and an encumbrance. But now Geoff's tones, the peremptory words
he had uttered, and, more than all, that suggestion of a reward quite
altered his intentions.
"A reward, Excellency! Then indeed I am fortunate," he told Geoff. "Let
your Excellency declare what is wanted, and that which I am able to
bring shall surely reach you."
"And a question," said Geoff, determined to make the most of his
opportunity. "This prison, where is it situated? How far from Bagdad?"
"A day's march--not more, not less, Excellency!"
"And there are other prisoners? Others from Britain or Russia?"
The man shook his head and raised his eyes as if Geoff were encroaching
upon a subject which was forbidden. Then, backing out of the door, he
pulled it to after him with a clang, and went off along the passage in a
different frame of mind from that in which he had entered it. As for
Phil, he gave vent once more to a shrill whistle, which ended in a blast
of air which came through his parted lips soundless.
"And that's the idea?" he asked slyly, pointing at the door, and jerking
his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the passage. "If you put
a bird in a cage, and the doors are so strong that breaking through 'em
is out of the question, that bird ain't necessarily deprived of a chance
of getting his freedom. There's the door left, an iron affair on this
occasion, and as strong as a rock from the look of it, and then there's
the jailer!"
"But there's something more than the jailer no doubt!" Geoff warned him;
"there'll be sentries perhaps, officials in charge of the prison, other
doors, with doors beyond them."
"Which don't say that even then we shouldn't be successful," said Philip
airily. "It's a chance, of course. What would they do if they caught
us?"
"Depends. Perhaps shoot us, though I hardly think it's likely--your Turk
doesn't indulge in frightfulness, like his German ally. It's worth the
chance, Philip, and we'll risk it; but, like sensible individuals, we'll
first of all find out as much as we can about local conditions. We'll
rest content here for a while and plumb this jailer fellow as far as
possible."
"And then we'll scrag him. Not that one wants to be violent with him,"
said Philip; "I'd like to treat the fellow as gently as possible. But
where a man stands between you and a chance of getting freedom, well, it
ain't your fault, is it? It's his, if he gets hammered."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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