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Somehow, they all contrived to take a little food, three watching fromthe wall-towers while the others ate; and Saidee prepared strong,delicious coffee, such as had never been tasted in the bordj of Toudja.
When they had dined after a fashion, each making a five-minute meal,there was still time to arrange the defence, for the attacking party--ifsuch it were--could not reach the bordj in less than an hour, marchingas fast as horses and camels could travel among the dunes.
The landlord was drunk. There was no disguising that, but though he waspast planning, he was not past fighting. He had a French army rifle andbayonet. Each of the five men had a revolver, and there was another inthe bordj, belonging to the absent brother. This Saidee asked for, andit was given her. There were plenty of cartridges for each weapon,enough at all events to last out a hot fight of several hours. Afterthat--but it was best not to send thoughts too far ahead.
The Frenchman had served long ago in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, and hadrisen, he said, to the rank of sergeant; but the fumes of absintheclouded his brain, and he could only swagger and boast of old exploitsas a soldier, crying from time to time "Vive l'entente cordiale," andassuring the Englishmen that they could trust him to the death. It wasStephen who, by virtue of his amateur soldiering experience, had to takethe lead. He posted the Highlanders in opposite watch-towers, placingNevill in one which commanded the two rear walls of the bordj. The nextstep was the building of bonfires, one at each corner of the roof, sothat when the time for fighting came, the defenders might confound theenemy by lighting the surrounding desert, making a surprise impossible.Old barrels were broken up, therefore, and saturated with oil. Thespiked double gates of iron, though apparently strong, Stephen judgedincapable of holding out long against battering rams, but he knew heavybaulks of wood to be rare in the desert, far from the palms of theoases. What he feared most was gunpowder; and though he was ignorant ofthe marabout's secret ambitions and warlike preparations, he thought itnot improbable that a store of gunpowder might be kept in the Zaouia.True, the French Government forbade Arabs to have more than a smallsupply in their possession; but the marabout was greatly trusted, andwas perhaps allowed to deal out a certain amount of the coveted treasurefor "powder play" on religious fete days. To prevent the bordj fallinginto the hands of the Arabs if the gate were blown down, Stephen and hissmall force built up at the further corner of the yard, in front of thedining-room door, a barrier of mangers, barrels, wooden troughs, ironbedsteads and mattresses from the guest-rooms. Also they reinforced thegates against pressure from the outside, using the shafts of an old cartto make struts, which they secured against the side walls or frame ofthe gateway. These formed buttresses of considerable strength; and thelandlord, instead of grumbling at the damage which might be done to hisbordj, and the danger which threatened himself, was maudlin with delightat the prospect of killing a few detested Arabs.
"I don't know what your quarrel's about, unless it's the ladies," hesaid, breathing vengeance and absinthe, "but whatever it is, I'll makeit mine, whether you compensate me or not. Depend upon me, _moncapitaine_. Depend on an old soldier."
But Stephen dared not depend upon him to man one of the watch-towers.Eye and hand were too unsteady to do good service in picking offescaladers. The ex-soldier was brave enough for any feat, however, andwas delighted when the Englishman suggested, rather than gave orders,that his should be the duty of lighting the bonfires. That done, he wasto take his stand in the courtyard, and shoot any man who escaped therifles in the wall-towers.
It was agreed among all five men that the gate was to be held as long aspossible; that if it fell, a second stand should be made behind thecrescent-shaped barricade outside the dining-room door; that, shouldthis defence fall also, all must retreat into the dining-room, where thetwo sisters must remain throughout the attack; and this would be thelast stand.
Everything being settled, and the watch-towers well supplied with foodfor the rifles, Stephen went to call Saidee and Victoria, who were intheir almost dismantled room. The bedstead, washstand, chairs and tablehad ceased to be furniture, and had become part of the barricade.
"Let me carry your things into the dining-room now," he said. "And yourbed covering. We can make up a sort of couch there, for you may as wellbe comfortable if you can. And you know, it's on the cards that all ourfuss is in vain. Nothing whatever may happen."
They obeyed, without objection; but Saidee's look as she laid a pair ofArab blankets over Stephen's arm, told how little rest she expected. Shegathered up a few things of her own, however, to take from the bedroomto the dining-room, and as she walked ahead, Stephen asked Victoria if,in the handbag she had brought from the Zaouia there was a mirror.
"Yes," she answered. "There's quite a good-sized one, which I used tohave on my dressing-table in the theatre. How far away that time seemsnow!"
"Will you lend the mirror to me--or do you value it too much to riskhaving it smashed?"
"Of course I'll lend it. But----" she looked up at him anxiously, inthe blue star-dusk. "What are you going to do?"
"Nothing particular, unless we've reason to believe that an attack willbe made; that is, if a lot of Arabs come near the bordj. In that case, Iwant to try and get up into the tower, and do some signalling--for fearthe shot we heard hit your sister's messenger. I used to be rather anailer at that sort of thing, when I played at soldiering a few yearsago."
"But no one could climb the tower now!" the girl exclaimed.
"I don't know. I almost flatter myself that I could. I've done the DentBlanche twice, and a Welsh mountain or two. To be sure, I must be my ownguide now, but I think I can bring it off all right. I've been searchingabout for a mirror and reflector, in case I try the experiment; for theheliographing apparatus was spoilt in the general wreckage of things bythe storm. I've got a reflector off a lamp in the kitchen, but couldn'tfind a looking-glass anywhere, and I saw there was only a broken bit inyour room. My one hope was in you."
As he said this, he felt that the words meant a great deal more than hewished her to understand.
"I hate being afraid of things," said Victoria. "But I am afraid to haveyou go up in the tower. It's only a shell, that looks as if it mightblow down in another storm. It could fall with you, even if you got upsafely to the signalling place. And besides, if Cassim's men were near,they might see you and shoot. Oh, I don't think I could bear to have yougo!"
"You care--a little--what becomes of me?" Stephen had stammered beforehe had time to forbid himself the question.
"I care a great deal--what becomes of you."
"Thank you for telling me that," he said, warmly. "I--" but he knew hemust not go on. "I shan't be in danger," he finished. "I'll be up andback before any one gets near enough to see what I'm at, and pot at me."
As he spoke, the sound of a strange, wild singing came to them, with thedesert wind that blew from the south.
"That's a Touareg song," exclaimed Saidee, turning. "It isn't Arab. I'veheard Touaregs sing it, coming to the Zaouia."
"Madame is right," said the landlord. "I, too, have heard Touaregs singit, in their own country, and also when they have passed here, in smallbands. Perhaps we have deceived ourselves. Perhaps we are not to enjoythe pleasure of a fight. I feared it was too good to be true."
"I can see a caravan," cried Nevill, from his cell in a wall-tower."There seem to be a lot of men."
"Would they come like that, if they wanted to fight?" asked the girl."Wouldn't they spread out, and hope to surprise us?"
"They'll either try to rush the gate, or else they'll pretend to be apeaceful caravan," said Stephen.
"I see! Get the landlord to let their leaders in, and then.... That'swhy they sing the Touareg song, perhaps, to put us off our guard."
"Into the dining-room, both of you, and have courage! Whatever happens,don't come out. Will you give me the mirror?"
"Must you go?"
"Yes. Be quick, please."
On the threshold of the dining-room
Victoria opened her bag, and gavehim a mirror framed in silver. It had been a present from anenthusiastic millionairess in New York, who admired her dancing. Thatseemed very odd now. The girl's hand trembled as for an instant ittouched Stephen's. He pressed her fingers, and was gone.
"Babe, I think this will be the last night of my life," said Saidee,standing behind the girl, in the doorway, and pressing against her."Cassim will kill me, when he kills the men, because I know his secretand because he hates me. If I could only have had a little happiness! Idon't want to die. I'm afraid. And it's horrible to be killed."
"I love being alive, but I want to know what happens next," saidVictoria. "Sometimes I want it so much, that I almost long to die. Andprobably one feels brave when the minute comes. One always does, whenthe great things arrive. Besides, we're sure it must be glorious as soonas we're out of our bodies. Don't you know, when you're going to jumpinto a cold bath, you shiver and hesitate a little, though you knowperfectly well it will be splendid in an instant. Thinking of death'srather like that."
"You haven't got to think of it for yourself to-night. Maieddinewill----"
"No," the girl broke in. "I won't go with Maieddine."
"If they take this place--as they must, if they've brought many men,you'll have to go, unless----"
"Yes; 'unless.' That's what I mean. But don't ask me any more. I--Ican't think of ourselves now."
"You're thinking of some one you love better than you do me."
"Oh, no, not better. Only----" Victoria's voice broke. The two clung toeach other. Saidee could feel how the girl's heart was beating, and howthe sobs rose in her throat, and were choked back.
Victoria watched the tower, that looked like a jagged black tear in thestar-strewn blue fabric of the sky. And she listened. It seemed as ifher very soul were listening.
The wild Touareg chant was louder now, but she hardly heard it, becauseher ears strained for some sound which the singing might cover: thesound of rubble crumbling under a foot that climbed and sought aholding-place.
From far away came the barking of Kabyle dogs, in distant camps ofnomads. In stalls of the bordj, where the animals rested, a horsestamped now and then, or a camel grunted. Each slightest noise madeVictoria start and tremble. She could be brave for herself, but it washarder to be brave for one she loved, in great danger.
"They'll be here in ten minutes," shouted Nevill. "Legs, where are you?"
There was no answer; but Victoria thought she heard the patter offalling sand. At least, the ruin stood firm so far. By this time Stephenmight have nearly reached the top. He had told her not to leave thedining-room, and she had not meant to disobey; but she had made nopromise, and she could bear her suspense no longer. Where she stood, shecould not see into the shell of the broken tower. She must see!
Running out, she darted across the courtyard, pausing near theFrenchman, Pierre Rostafel, who wandered unsteadily up and down thequadrangle, his torch of alfa grass ready in his hand. He did not knowthat one of the Englishmen was trying to climb the tower, and would notfor an instant have believed that any human being could reach the upperchamber, if suddenly a light had not flashed out, at the top, seventyfeet above his head.
Dazed already with absinthe, fantastic ideas beat stupidly upon hisbrain, like bats that blunder against a lamp and extinguish it withfoolish, flapping wings. He thought that somehow the enemy must havestolen a march upon the defenders: that the hated Arabs had got into thetower, from a ladder raised outside the wall, and that soon they wouldbe pouring down in a swarm. Before he knew what he was doing, he hadstumbled up the stairs on to the flat wall by the gate. Scrambling alongwith his torch, he got on to the bordj roof, and lit bonfire afterbonfire, though Victoria called on him to stop, crying that it was toosoon--that the men outside would shoot and kill him who would save themall.
The sweet silence of the starry evening was crashed upon with lights andjarring sounds.
Stephen, who had climbed the tower with a lantern and a kitchenlamp-reflector slung in a table-cover, on his back, had just got hismakeshift apparatus in order, and standing on a narrow shelf of floorwhich overhung a well-like abyss, had begun his signalling to thenorthward.
Too late he realized that, for all the need of haste, he ought to havewaited long enough to warn the drunken Frenchman what he meant to do. Ifhe had, this contretemps would not have happened. His telegraphicflashes, long and short, must have told the enemy what was going on inthe tower, but they could not have seen him standing there, exposed likea target to their fire, if Rostafel had not lit the bonfires.
Suddenly a chorus of yells broke out, strange yells that sprang fromsavage hearts; and one sidewise glance down showed Stephen the desertilluminated with red fire. He went on with his work, not stopping tocount the men on horses and camels who rode fast towards the bordj,though not yet at the foot of that swelling sand hill on which it stood.But a picture--of uplifted dark faces and pointing rifles--was stampedupon his brain in that one swift look, clear as an impression of a sealin hot wax. He had even time to see that those faces were half envelopedin masks such as he had noticed in photographs of Touaregs, yet he wassure that the twenty or thirty men were not Touaregs. When close to thebordj all flung themselves from their animals, which were led away,while the riders took cover by throwing themselves flat on the sand.Then they began shooting, but he looked no more. He was determined tokeep on signalling till he got an answer or was shot dead.
There were others, however, who looked and saw the faces, and the riflesaimed at the broken tower. The bonfires which showed the figure in theruined heliographing-room, to the enemy, also showed the enemy to thewatchers in the wall-towers, on opposite sides of the gates.
The Highlanders open fire. Their skill as marksmen, gained in the glensand mountains of Sutherlandshire, was equally effective on differentgame, in the desert of the Sahara. One shot brought a white mehari toits knees. Another caused a masked man in a striped gandourah to wringhis hand and squeal.
The whole order of things was changed by the sudden flashes from theheight of the dark ruin, and the lighting of the bonfires on the bordjroof.
Two of the masked men riding on a little in advance of the other twentyhad planned, as Stephen guessed, to demand admittance to the bordj,declaring themselves leaders of a Touareg caravan on its way toTouggourt. If they could have induced an unsuspecting landlord to openthe gates, so much the better for them. If not, a parley would havegiven the band time to act upon instructions already understood. ButCassim ben Halim, an old soldier, and Maieddine, whose soul was in thisventure, were not the men to meet an emergency unprepared. They hadcalculated on a check, and were ready for surprises.
It was Maieddine's camel that went down, shot in the neck. He had beenkeeping El Biod in reserve, when the splendid stallion might be neededfor two to ride away in haste--his master and a woman. As the meharifell, Maieddine escaped from the saddle and alighted on his feet, hisblue Touareg veil disarranged by the shock. His face uncovered, hebounded up the slope with the bullets of Angus and Hamish patteringaround him in the sand.
"She's bewitched, whateffer!" the twins mumbled, each in hiswatch-tower, as the tall figure sailed on like a war-cloud, untouched.And they wished for silver bullets, to break the charm woven round the"fanatic" by a wicked spirit.
Over Maieddine's head his leader was shooting at Stephen in the tower,while Hamish returned his fire, leaving the running man to Angus. Butsuddenly Angus wheeled after a shot, to yell through the tower door intothe courtyard. "Oot o' the way, wimmen! He's putten gunpowder to thegate if I canna stop him." Then, he wheeled into place, and wasentranced to see that the next bullet found its billet under the Arab'sturban. In the orange light of the bonfires, Angus could see a spout ofcrimson gush down the bronze forehead and over the glittering eyes. Butthe wounded Arab did not fall back an inch or drop a burden which hecarried carefully. Now he was sheltering behind the high, juttinggate-post. In another minute it would be too late to save the gate.
; But Angus did not think of Victoria. Nor did Victoria stop to think ofherself. Something seemed to say in her heart, "Maieddine won't let themblow up the gate, if it means your death, and so, maybe, you can savethem all."
This was not a thought, since she had no time for thought. It was but amurmur in her brain, as she ran up the steep stairway close to the gate,and climbed on to the wall.
Maieddine, streaming with blood, was sheltering in the narrow angle ofthe gate-post where the firing from the towers struck the wall insteadof his body. He had suspended a cylinder of gunpowder against the gate,and, his hands full of powder to sprinkle a trail, he was ready to makea dash for life when a voice cried his name.
Victoria stood on the high white wall of the bordj, just above the gate,on the side where he had hung the gunpowder. A few seconds more--hissoul sickened at the thought. He forgot his own danger, in thinking ofhers, and how he might have destroyed her, blotting out the light of hisown life.
"Maieddine!" she called, before she knew who had been ready to lay thefuse, and that, instead of crying to a man in the distance, she spoke toone at her feet. He stared up at her through a haze of blood. In the redlight of the fire, she was more beautiful even than when she had dancedin his father's tent, and he had told himself that if need be he wouldthrow away the world for her. She recognized him as she looked down, andstarted back with an impulse to escape, he seemed so near and soformidable. But she feared that, if the gate were blown up, the ruinedtower might be shaken down by the explosion. She must stay, and savethe gate, until Stephen had reached the ground.
"Thou!" exclaimed Maieddine. "Come to me, heart of my life, thou who artmine forever, and thy friends shall be spared, I promise thee."
"I am not thine, nor ever can be," Victoria answered him. "Go thou, orthou wilt be shot with many bullets. They fire at thee and I cannot stopthem. I do not wish to see thee die."
"Thou knowest that while thou art on the wall I cannot do what I came todo," Maieddine said. "If they kill me here, my death will be on thyhead, for I will not go without thee. Yet if thou hidest from me, I willblow up the gate."
Victoria did not answer, but looked at the ruined tower. One of itswalls and part of another stood firm, and she could not see Stephen inthe heliographing-chamber at the top. But through a crack between theadobe bricks she caught a gleam of light, which moved. It was Stephen'slantern, she knew. He was still there. Farther down, the crack widened.On his way back, he would see her, if she were still on the wall abovethe gate. She wished that he need not learn she was there, lest he losehis nerve in making that terrible descent. But every one else knew thatshe was trying to save the gate, and that while she remained, the fusewould not be lighted. Saidee, who had come out from the dining-room intothe courtyard, could see her on the wall, and Rostafel was babbling thatshe was "une petite lionne, une merveille de courage et de finesse." TheHighlanders knew, too, and were doing their best to rid her ofMaieddine, but, perhaps because of the superstition which made themdoubt the power of their bullets against a charmed life, they could notkill him, though his cloak was pierced, and his face burned by a bulletwhich had grazed his cheek. Suddenly, however, to the girl's surpriseand joy, Maieddine turned and ran like a deer toward the firing line ofthe Arabs. Then, as the bullets of Hamish and Angus spattered roundhim, he wheeled again abruptly and came back towards the bordj as ifborne on by a whirlwind. With a run, he threw himself towards the gate,and leaping up caught at the spikes for handhold. He grasped themfirmly, though his fingers bled, got a knee on the wall, and freeing ahand snatched at Victoria's dress.