CHAPTER XXXII
THE BATTLE OF THE HARAM
The raiding-party, beside its two leaders, consisted of Lombardo,Rennes, Emilio, Wallace, and three others, including Lebon. Thelieutenant's orderly, now having recovered strength, had pleaded sohard for an opportunity to avenge himself on the hated Moslems thatLeclair had taken him.
As for Lombardo, he had downright insisted on going. His life, heknew, was already forfeited to the expedition--by reason of his havinglet the stowaway escape--and, this being so, he had begged and beengranted the favor of risking it in this perilous undertaking.
Such was the party now swiftly dropping toward the Haram where neveryet in the history of the world two English-speaking men had at onetime gathered; where never yet the speech of the heretic had beenheard; where so many intruders had been beheaded or crucified forhaving dared profane the ground sacred to Allah and his Prophet.
To the major, peering over the side of the nacelle, it seemed asif the Haram--central spot of pilgrimage and fanatic devotion forone-seventh of the human race--were leaping up to meet him. Withdizzying rapidity the broad square, the grim black Ka'aba, theprostrate white throngs all sprang up at the basket. Fascinated, themajor watched; his eyes, above all, sought the mysterious Ka'aba.Excitement thrilled his romantic soul at thought that he was one ofthe very first white men in the world ever to behold that strange,ancient building.
Clearly he could see the stone slabs cemented with gypsum, the fewstricken pigeons lying there, the cords holding the huge _kiswah_,or brocaded cloth, covering "Mecca's bride," (the Ka'aba). The GoldenWaterspout was plainly visible, gleaming in the sun--a massive troughof pure metal, its value quite incalculable.
Now the Ka'aba was close; now the nacelle slowed, beside it, in theshadow of its grim blackness. The major got an impression of exceedingrichness from the shrouding veil, which he saw to be a huge silkenfabric, each side like a vast theater curtain of black, with atwo-foot band a little more than half-way up, the whole covered withverses from the Koran worked in gold.
The nacelle sank gently on to a heap of motionless pilgrims, canted tothe left, and came to rest. Not a groan, curse, or even a sigh escapedthe desecrated Moslems forever defiled by the touch of the infidels'accursed machine.
The effect was horribly uncanny--of all those brown men, open-eyed andconscious, but perfectly unable to move so much as an eyebrow. Such ashad fallen with their eyes in the direction of the nacelle, couldsee what was going on; the others could only judge of this incredibledesecration by what they could hear. The sound of foreign voices,speaking an unbelievers' tongue in the very shadow of the Ka'aba, musthave been supremely horrible to every Mohammedan there.
"Out, men, and at it!" the major commanded, as he scrambled from thenacelle, slid and stumbled over the Moslems, and reached hands for thetools passed out to him. Leclair followed. Men and tools were swiftlyunloaded, leaving only Wallace and Emilio at their guns, as agreed.
"Faith, but this is some proposition!" grunted the major, as the sevenmen trampled over the prostrate bodies, without any delay whatever topeer at the Haram or the Ka'aba.
"The stone's there, men, at the south-east corner! Get busy!"
No exhortation was necessary. Every man, nerved to the utmost energyby the extreme urgency of the situation, leaped to work. And a strangescene began, the strangest in all the history of that unknown city ofmysteries. The little troop of white men in uniform stumbled over thebodies and faces of their enemies along the Ka'aba, past the littledoor about seven feet from the ground, and so, skirting the slantingwhite base, two feet high, came to the Hajar el Aswad, or Black Stone,itself.
Above, in the burning Arabian sky, the air-liner hovered like agigantic bird of prey, her gallery-rails lined with motionlesswatchers. The Master observed every move through powerful glasses.Over his ears a telephone headpiece, which he had slipped on, kept himin close touch with the men in the nacelle, via the steel cable. Thiscable formed a strand between East and West; if any evil chanceshould break it, life would end there and then for nine members of theLegion, brave men all.
That their time was short, indeed, was proved by the vague, hollowroar already drifting in from the outskirts of the city, and fromthe plain whence, crowding, struggling into the city's narrow ways, araging mass of pilgrims was already on the move. A tidal-wave, a seaof hate, the hundred thousand or more _Hujjaj_ as yet untouched by thestrong magic of the Feringi, were fighting their way toward the Haram.
The time of respite was measured but by minutes. Each minute, everysecond, bore supreme value.
"There she is, men!" the major shouted, pointing. And on the instant,driving furiously with pick-axe, he struck the first blow.
Plainly, about three feet below the bottom of the silken veil and fourfeet above the pavement, there indeed they saw the inestimably sacredstone, which every Moslem believes once formed a part of Paradise andwas given by Allah to the first man. To the Legionaries' excited eyesit seemed to be an irregular oval, perhaps seven inches in diameter,with an undulating surface composed of about a dozen smaller stonesjoined by cement and worn blackly smooth by millions of touches andkisses.
It was surrounded by a border of cement that looked like pitch andgravel; and the major noted, even as he drove his pick into thiscement, that both the stone and the border were enclosed by a massivecircle of gold with the lower part studded full of silver nails.
Only these hasty observations, and no more, the Legionaries made asthey fell with furious energy to the task of dislodging the venerablerelic. To all but this labor they were oblivious--to the heat andstifle of that sun-baked square, the mute staring of the paralyzed_Hujjaj_, the wafting languor of incenses from the colonnades, thequiet murmur of waters from the holy well, Zem Zem.
The scene, which ordinarily would have entranced them and filled themwith awe, now had become as nothing. Every energy, every sense hadcentered itself only on this one vital work of extracting the BlackStone from the Ka'aba wall and of making a swift getaway with itbefore the rising murmur of rage, from without the area of paralysis,should sweep in on them with annihilating passion.
"Here, Emilio--drive your pick here!" commanded the major, his redface now dark crimson with heat and excitement as well as with theintense force wherewith he was wielding his implement. Cement flewin showers at every stroke, out over the sweating Legionaries and theprostrate Moslems near the stone. The white men slid and stumbledon limp bodies, trampled them unheedingly, and of the outstretchedpilgrims made as it were a kind of vantage-post for the attack on theinmost citadel of Islam.
"Work quick, Major!" came the Master's voice, seemingly at Bohannan'selbow. "There's a fearful drove of the rascals coming. You'd betterget that stone out and away in double-quick time!"
The major replied nothing, but his pick-axe flailed into the cementwith desperate energy. Emilio and others seconded him, while Rennesand Wallace dug, kneeling, with their crowbars. The blows echoed withstaccato rapidity through the sacred Haram, which now had begun tofill with the confused roar of the on-coming mobs from the Ma'abidahsuburb and the Plain of Mina, from Jebel Hindi and the Sulaymainyahquarter.
"You have about five minutes more," the Master spoke again. "Ifnecessary, we will open on them with machine-guns, from the ship, butI'd like to avoid bloodshed if possible. Do the best you can!"
Bohannan had no breath for answering. Every ounce of energy of allseven men was being flung into that mad labor. Sweat streamed intotheir eyes, half blinding them; they dashed it off, and struck againand again. The cement crumbled and gave; the heavy gold band commencedto bend; Rennes got his crowbar into an advantageous leverage and gavea mighty heave.
The stone seemed to cry aloud, with a dry, harsh screaming soundof outraged agony, as it yielded. It was only the sundering ofthe mortar, of course; but a chill ran up the major's spine, andgoose-flesh prickled all over him. Furiously the Legionaries workedthe stone back and forth; a shower of mortar fell on the workers' feetand on the upturned, stari
ng faces of the paralyzed Moslems trampledby the horrible contamination of heretical boots--perhaps even pigskinboots!--and then, all at once, the Hajar el Aswad slid from the placewhere it had lain uncounted centuries.
Cursing with frantic excitement, the Legionaries tugged it from thewall, together with its golden band. Above them the _kiswah_ belliedoutward, swaying in the breeze. No Moslem has ever admitted that theKa'aba veil is ever moved by any other thing than the wings of angels.Those of the Faithful who now beheld that movement, felt the avengingmessengers of Allah were near, indeed; and a thousand unspoken prayersflamed aloft:
"Angels of death, Azrael and his host, smite these outcasts ofFeringistan!"
The prayers seemed more likely of fulfilment from the hands of theoncoming hordes already streaming into the converging streets to theHaram. As the stone came clear, into the hands of the invaders, adank, chill blast of air blew from the aperture against the whitemen's faces. It seemed to issue as from a cavern; and with it came alow, groaning sound, as of a soul in torment.
A shadow fell across the Haram; the light of the sun was dulled. Thesudden crack of a rifle-shot snapped from the arcade, and a puff ofrock-dust flew from the corner of the Ka'aba, not two feet from themajor's head.
"Come on, men!" cried the major. "Away!"
Some latent mysticism had been stirred in him; some vague, half-sensedsuperstition. Nothing more natural than that a cold draught shouldhave soughed from the pent interior of the temple, or that theair-liner, slowly turning as she hung above the Haram, should with hervast planes have for a moment thrown her shadow over the square. Butthe Celt's imaginative nature quivered as he gripped the stone.
"You, quick, on the other end!" he cried to Emilio. "You, Lombardo,steady her! So! Now--to the nacelle!"
The rifles were opening a lively fire, already, as the men staggeredover the prostrate Moslems, reached the nacelle and with a grunt anda heave tumbled the Hajar el Aswad into it. They scrambled after,falling into the shelter of the basket.
Into the arcade, at the north-east corner and half-way along thewestern side, two furious swarms of white-robed _Hujjaj_ were alreadydebouching, yelling like fiends, firing as they came. The uproarswelled rapidly, in a swift-rising tide. The Haram grew all aconfusion of wild-waving arms, streaming robes, running men whostumbled over the paralyzed forms of their coreligionists. Knives,spears, scimitars, rifles glinted in the sun.
The whine and patter of bullets filled the air, punctured the_kiswah_, slogged against the Ka'aba. Lebon and Rennes, turning loosethe machine-guns, mowed into the white of the pack; but still theycame crowding on and on, frenzied, impervious to fear.
Up rose the nacelle, as the major wildly shouted into the phone. Itsoared some forty feet in air, up past the black silken curtain, thenunaccountably stopped, level with the Ka'aba roof.
"Up! Up!" yelled Bohannan, frantically. The spud of bullets againstthe steel basket tingled the bodies of the men crouching against themetal-work.
All at once Dr. Lombardo stood up, pick-axe in hand, fully exposed torifle-fire.
"Down, you blazing idiot!" commanded the major, dragging at him withhands that shook. The doctor thrust him away, and turned toward theKa'aba, the roof of which was not three feet distant.
"The golden spout--see?" he cried, pointing. "_Dio mio_, what atreasure!" On to the edge of the nacelle he clambered.
"Don't be a damn fool, Doctor!" the major shouted; but alreadyLombardo had leaped. Pick in hand, he jumped, landing on the flat roofof the temple.
Ferocious howls and execrations swelled into a screaming chorusof hate, of rage. Unmindful, the Italian was already franticallyattacking the Myzab. Blow after blow he rained upon it with the sharp,cutting edge of the pick, that at every stroke sank deep into themassive gold, shearing it in deep gashes.
A perfect hail of rifle-fire riddled the air all about him, but stillhe labored with sweat streaming down his face all blackened with dirtand cement. From _Nissr_, far above, cries and shouts rang down athim, mingled with the sharp spitting of the machine-guns from thelower gallery. The guns in the nacelle, too, were chattering; theHaram filled itself with a wild turmoil; the scene beggared anyattempt at description, there under the blistering ardor of theArabian sun.
All at once Dr. Lombardo inserted the blade of the pick under thegolden spout, pried hard, bent it upward. He stamped it down againwith his boot-heel, dropped the pick and grappled it with bothstraining hands. By main force he wrenched it up almost at rightangles. He gave another pull, snapped it short off, dragged it to theparapet of the Ka'aba, and with a frantic effort swung it, hurled itinto the nacelle.
Down sank the basket, a little, under this new weight.
The doctor leaped, jumped short, caught the edge of the basket andwas just pulling himself up when a slug caught him at the base of thebrain.
His hold relaxed; but the major had him by the wrists. Into thenacelle he dragged the dying man.
"For the love o' God, _haul up!_" he shouted.
The basket leaped aloft, as the winch--that had been jammed by atrivial accident to the control--took hold of the steel cable. Upit soared, still pursued by dwindling screams of rage, by now futilerifle-fire. Before it had reached the trap in the lower gallery,the main propellers had begun to whicker into swift revolution, allgleaming in the afternoon sun. The gigantic shadow of the Eagle of theSky began to slide athwart the hill-side streets to south-eastward ofthe Haram; and so, away.
Up came the nacelle through the trap. The davit swung it to one side;the trap was slammed down and bolted. Out of the nacelle tumbled themajor, pale as he had formerly been red, his face all drawn with griefand pain.
"The damned Moslem swine!" he panted. "Faith, but they--they've killedhim!" He flung a passionate hand at the basket, in which, prone acrossthe golden spout, the still body of Lombardo was lying. "They'vekilled as brave a man--"
"We all saw what he did, Major," the chief said quietly. "Dr. Lombardoowed us all a debt, and he has paid it. This is Kismet! Controlyourself, Major. The price of such brave adventure--is often death."
They lifted out the limp form, and carried it away to the cabin Dr.Lombardo had occupied, there to wait some opportune time for burialin the desert. Mecca, in the meanwhile, was already fading away tonorth-westward. The heat-shimmer of that baked land of bare-ribbedrock and naked, igneous hills had already begun to blur its outlines.The white minarets round the Haram still with delicate tracery as ofcarved ivory stood up against the sky; but of the out-raged people,the colonnades, the despoiled and violated Ka'aba, nothing could anymore be seen.
Southward by eastward sped _Nissr_; and with her now was departing thesoul of Islam. In her keeping lay three things more sacred than allelse to Mohammedan hearts--Kaukab el Durri, the Great Pearl Star; Hajar el As wad, the Black Stone; and Myzab, the Golden Waterspout.
Awed, silenced, the Legionaries stood there in the lower gallery,peering into the blood-stained nacelle. Hard-bitten men, all, and usedto the ways and usages of war; yet factors were present in this latestexploit that sobered and steadied them as never before.
The Master, still unmoved, merely smiled a peculiar smile as hecommanded:
"Major, have the stone and the golden spout carried to my cabin. And,if you please, no remarks!"
Bohannan picked a few men to fulfil the order. Then he asked andreceived permission to retire to the smoke-room, for a pipe and aquiet half-hour, after having washed the dust and grime of battlefrom his hands and face. The major's Celtic nerves needed tobacco andreflection as they had rarely needed them.
The Master, climbing up the ladder to the main gallery, left Leclairand a few off-duty men in the lower one. Two or three approached theFrench ace, to hold speech with him about the exploit at the Ka'aba,but he withdrew from them to the extreme rear end of the gallery andremained for a long time in silent contemplation of the fading city,the Plain of Mina, and Mount Arafat, beyond.
As the vague purple haze of late afternoon deepened to veils tha
tbegan to hide even the outlines of the mountain, he leaned both elbowson the rail and in his own language whispered:
"_Nom de Dieu!_ The Pearl Star--the Golden Waterspout--the sacredBlack Stone!" His face was white with pride and a fire of eagernessthat burned within. "Why, now we're masters of all Islam--masters ofthe treasure-houses of the Orient!
"_Mais--nom de Dieu!_"
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