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
How Philip would have laughed had he been beside his chum and
recollected their conversation aboard the steam-launch, for as Geoff
peered down into the cabin, his head screened to a certain extent from
the view of those below by the supports of the skylight, and by the
swinging oil-lamp which illuminated the interior, his eyes fell upon
three individuals--three Turkish officers--one of whom sat back in a
chair in the most dilettante attitude, smoking a cigarette; a young man
without doubt, handsome as the Turks go, but decidedly effeminate. Near
him was another officer, rather older, with a handsomely curled
moustache, who leaned both elbows on the cabin table and seemed to be
already nodding. And opposite the two, lounging full length on a divan,
was a stout broad-shouldered Pasha, a senior Turkish officer, whose fez
now reposed on the floor, exposing a head which shone and glistened in
the rays of the lamp-light. As to his being toothless, that was another
matter, though the memory of what had passed between himself and Philip,
once again caused Geoff to give vent to a silent chuckle.
"And so you think, my dear comrade, that this firing on the part of the
crew of the steam-launch resulted in the annihilation of a party of the
British, eh?" the elderly Turkish officer was asking, whilst he waved a
big, fat hand, upon which glistened many rings, in the direction of the
young officer at the head of the table.
"I do. To-morrow they will return with a fine tale of their doings. You
will discover, my chief, that you have been the means of stopping a
reconnoitring-force of the enemy ascending the Euphrates. It will be
good for you, good for me, good for us all."
They lapsed into silence for a while and then started on some other
topic. Indeed, though Geoff listened for the better part of quarter of
an hour, not once did they broach the subject of Turkish troops, nor
that of their position in these marsh lands about the Euphrates. It was
clear, in fact, that to stay where he was, risking discovery at any
moment, on the chance of such a question rising between the Turkish
officers below him, was madness, and that some other scheme must be
adopted to get at the information which he and Philip coveted. Lowering
his head, therefore, and making sure that the sentry had not discerned
him, Geoff crept on all fours across the deck, and, clambering over the
rail, dropped gently into the boat. And there for a while he and his
chum discussed the matter in low tones, making their plans so as to
accomplish their purpose.
It was half an hour later when Geoff led the way up over the rail again,
followed by Philip, and the two crept for'ard along the deck of the
steamer.
"There's the cabin," whispered Geoff, pointing to the skylight, "and
down below is the old boy we're bent on capturing. Just creep along and
look in, then come back at once, for we've no time to waste, and must
complete the business."
CHAPTER X
Geoff and Philip manoeuvre
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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