Yet the cunning of this German was not always to meet with such ill success, for though Douglas Pasha contrived to escape from Bagdad that night, and made his way into the desert, there came a day when von Hildemaller traced him. Also there came a day when Douglas Pasha--a prisoner then, and none too well treated--contrived to get a message out of the Turkish fortress in which he was incarcerated. Even as Geoff Keith, and Philip, and Commander Houston braced themselves for a stiff engagement with the Turks aboard the steam-launch which had been pursuing them, that message was speeding down the Tigris towards the British forces. It was a request for help, but with no definite statement of the position where Douglas Pasha was imprisoned. And there were miles of desert country to traverse, and hundreds of enemies to pass, ere the messenger could bear his missive to our Head-quarters. It was a toss-up, indeed, as to whether the news of the Major's plight would ever reach his own people; just as it was a toss-up whether Geoff and his comrades would ever contrive to beat off the Turks who were about to assail them. CHAPTER VIII The Motor-boat in Action There was a deathly silence about the reed-clad island which separated the motor-boat, with its British crew, which was stealing along one side of it, and the wide-stretching marshes on the farther side, where the Turkish launch forged her way slowly, steering for the far end of the island. There was just the gentle purr of the petrol motor aboard the British boat as it slowly turned over--that and the occasional click of a rifle-lock, as one of the men saw to his weapon. From the far side, however, there came voices on occasion, smothered every now and again by the burr and hiss of steam as it escaped from the safety-valve above the boiler. Geoff looked over the side and peered into the water; then he took a boathook and thrust it downward till it struck the bottom of the swamp close beside them. An instant later he had plucked the Commander by the sleeve, and was whispering to him. "Look, sir," he said; "not much more than two-feet-six of water; you can see the mark on this boathook; and it's hard ground down below--listen!" He sent the boathook down through the water again till the end struck heavily on the bottom, and sent forth a dull, ringing sound. As for the Commander, he drew the inevitable pipe from between his lips and looked inquisitively at Geoff and then at the boathook. "Yes?" he asked. "What then?" "Might be useful," Geoff ventured. "A couple of men dropped overboard could take cover at the edge of the island in amongst the reeds, and might help us immensely." Commander Houston smiled an indulgent smile at him, and gripped him by the shoulder.