Helen made an effort to shriek for aid, but a black cloud seemed
suddenly to envelop her in the shape of a great cloth, wrapping her
round and round. Then she felt herself lifted from her feet, and
half-stifled, half-fainting with the horror of her situation, she was
just conscious of being carried for a few minutes, and then of being
placed in a boat; while in the midst of her horror and excitement there
seemed to come up before her the faces of her three old mistresses at
the calm, quiet school, then that of Grey Stuart looking reproachfully,
and then all faded away into one complete void.
VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER ELEVEN.
A FLOATING CAPTIVITY.
What seemed to be an endless ride by water, during which the captives
felt over and over again as if they would be suffocated by the folds of
the cloths in which they were enveloped.
Several times had the two first prisoners made such desperate efforts to
free themselves that the boats in which they were rocked dangerously,
that in which Chumbley had been thrown shipping a little water more than
once; but finding by degrees that it was only a waste of strength, and
contenting themselves with the idea that though an Englishman may never
know when he is beaten, they had done everything possible to vindicate
their character, they lay quite still, dripping with perspiration and
gasping for air.
An hour must have gone by when, in each boat, as the prisoner lay
perfectly quiescent, it seemed to strike the captors almost
simultaneously that if something were not done suffocation might ensue.
Under these circumstances efforts were made to give them a little of
that bounteous provision of air that was waiting to revive their
exhausted frames.
Chumbley was lying upon his face in the bottom of the boat, the
exhaustion having produced a semi-delirious sensation, in which he
fancied that he was in evening dress, of a very thick texture, dancing
in a crowded ballroom, and so giddy that he was in a constant state of
alarm lest he should hurl his partner, the Malay princess, headlong upon
the floor.
This sensation kept coming and going with saner thoughts of having done
his best, and its being useless to struggle, in the midst of one of
which intervals he awoke to the fact that his hands were being held
tightly behind him, and back to back. Then someone, with a deftness of
habit that told of long custom, tied his thumbs together, and then his
little fingers.
Next he felt a stout cord passed round his ankles and another about his
legs just above the knees, after which the thick cloth was drawn from
his head, and he gasped and panted as he filled his lungs again and
again with the pure night air, which cleared his brain and sent the
crowded ballroom, the thick costume, and the giddiness of the waltz far
back into the unreal region from which they came.
For a moment he revelled in the sight of the brilliant star-lit heavens,
and then, almost before he knew it, a cloth was bound tightly round his
eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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