On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the TigrisBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
General
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 two were still discussing the matter earnestly, almost eagerly, when
steps were heard again in the corridor outside, and the door was pushed
open by the jailer, now smiling widely, and bearing a Turkish tray upon
which were set coffee and food in abundance.
A week passed, during which Geoff and his chum did their best to while
away the weary hours, and to ascertain something of the outside of their
cell and the conditions existing in other parts of the prison. By dint
of carefully probing the jailer, by flattering him and raising his hopes
of a reward, they ascertained that the Governor was lying ill, and that
his subordinate was often enough away from the building. There were
troops there, they gathered, but how many, and where quartered, no
amount of questioning would extract from the jailer; nor was it wise to
ask him about the plan of the building, the position of the cell, the
corridor outside, and the road which led to the gates giving access.
As to the cell itself, the first complete day had imprinted every
feature of it upon their minds, till they knew every crevice, every flaw
in the stone, every little hole and excrescence. They knew the exact
height of those two windows which admitted air and light to their
prison, and, by standing upon one another's shoulders, had contrived to
look outside--only to find that both windows looked out upon a
courtyard, surrounded by a wall the top of which would undoubtedly be
well beyond their reach. As to the windows themselves, they were barred
so heavily that to attempt to get through them was out of the question,
and even were they provided with a saw or a chisel the job would still
be beyond them.
"So it's got to be the jailer," grinned Philip, when the week had
passed, "and, 'pon my word, I'm awfully sorry about it. Of course we
must do the square thing by him; we've promised him a reward, and he
must have it. Let's form our plans for gagging and tying him up safely."
There was more discussion after that, eager enough to be sure, while
plans were made and unmade, every eventuality likely to occur foreseen
and overcome as far as possible.
"Naturally enough, we shall not make the attempt until nightfall," said
Geoff, "and, seeing that this fellow gives us a last call just about
dusk, that will be the most convenient hour to nab him. Let's go over
the scene for a moment. If we happen to be fairly close to the door when
he enters, he won't be suspicious, for he's found us in every sort of
position during the last week. A chap would get soft and out of
condition if he stayed in one place in a cell like this, and it's only
by walking up and down and running round that we have been able to get
exercise. Exercise, by Jove! Why didn't we think of that before? We
might have sent a message to the Governor of the prison asking him to
allow us out of our cell for certain hours of the day, and that would
have given us an idea of our surroundings."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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