Brewster looked the swarthy gentleman over with unconcealed disgust in his eyes. The mere thought of this ugly brute so much as touching the hand of little Peggy Gray filled him with horror, and yet there was something laughable in the situation. He could not hide the smile that came with the mind picture of Peggy listening to the avowal of the sheik. The Arab misinterpreted this exhibition of mirth. To him the grin indicated friendship and encouragement. He wanted to give Brewster a ring as a pledge of affection, but the American declined the offering, and also refused to carry a bag of jewels to Peggy.
“I’ll let the old boy come aboard just to see Peggy look a hole through him,” he resolved. “No matter how obnoxious it may be, it isn’t every girl who can say an oriental potentate has asked her to marry him. If this camel-herder gets disagreeable we may tumble him into the sea for a change.”
With the best grace possible he invited the sheik to come aboard and consult Miss Gray in person. Mohammed was a good bit puzzled over the intimation that it would be necessary for him to plead for anything he had expressed a desire to possess. Brewster confided the news to “Rip” Van Winkle and “Subway” Smith, who had gone ashore with him, and the trio agreed that it would be good sport to let the royal proposal come as a surprise to Peggy. Van Winkle returned to the yacht at once, but his companions stayed ashore to do some shopping. When they approached the “Flitter” later on they observed an unusual commotion on deck.
Mohammed had not tarried long after their departure. He gathered his train together, selected a few costly presents that had been returned from the harem and advanced on the boat without delay. The captain of the “Flitter” stared long and hard at the gaily bedecked launches and then called to his first officer. Together they watched the ceremonious approach. A couple of brown-faced heralds came aboard first and announced the approach of the mighty chief. Captain Perry went forward to greet the sheik as he came over the side of the ship, but he was brushed aside by the advance guards. Half a hundred swarthy fellows crowded aboard and then came the sheik, the personification of pomp and pride.
“Where is she?” he asked in his native tongue. The passengers were by this time aware of the visitation, and began to straggle on deck, filled with curiosity. “What the devil do you mean by coming aboard in this manner?” demanded the now irate Captain Perry, shoving a couple of retainers out of his path and facing the beaming suitor. An interpreter took a hand at this juncture and the doughty captain finally was made to understand the object of the visit. He laughed in the sheik’s face and told the mate to call up a few jackies to drive the “dagoes” off. “Rip” Van Winkle interfered and peace was restored. The cruise had changed “Rip” into a happier and far more radiant creature, so it was only natural that he should have shared the secret with Mary Valentine. He had told the story of the sheik’s demand to her as soon as he came aboard, and she had divulged it to Peggy the instant “Rip” was out of sight.
Brewster found the sheik sitting in state on the upper deck impatiently awaiting the appearance of his charmer. He did not know her name, but he had tranquilly commanded “Rip” to produce all of the women on board so that he might select Peggy from among them. Van Winkle and Bragdon, who now was in the secret, were preparing to march the ladies past the ruler when Monty came up.
“Has he seen Peggy?” he asked of Van Winkle.
“Not yet. She is dressing for the occasion.”
“Well, wait and see what happens to him when she gets over the first shock,” laughed Monty.
Just then the sheik discovered Peggy, who, pretty as a picture, drew near the strange group. To her amazement two slaves rushed forward and obstructed her passage long enough to beat their heads on the deck a few times, after which they arose and tendered two magnificent necklaces. She was prepared for the proposal, but this action disconcerted her; she gasped and looked about in perplexity. Her friends were smiling broadly and the sheik had placed his hands over his palpitating heart.
“Lothario has a pain,” whispered “Rip” Van Winkle sympathetically, and Brewster laughed. Peggy did not hesitate an instant after hearing the laugh. She walked straight toward the sheik. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were flashing dangerously. The persistent brown slaves followed with the jewels, but she ignored them completely. Brave as she intended to be, she could not repress the shudder of repulsion that went over her as she looked full upon this eager Arab.
Graceful and slender she stood before the burly Mohammed, but his ardor was not cooled by the presence of so many witnesses. With a thud he dropped to his knees, wabbling for a moment in the successful effort to maintain a poetic equilibrium. Then he began pouring forth volumes of shattered French, English and Arabic sentiment, accompanied by facial contortions so intense that they were little less than gruesome.
“Oh, joy of the sun supreme, jewel of the only eye, hearken to the entreaty of Mohammed.” It was more as if he were commanding his troops in battle than pleading for the tender compassion of a lady love. “I am come for you, queen of the sea and earth and sky. My boats are here, my camels there, and Mohammed promises you a palace in the sun-lit hills if you will but let him bask forever in the glory of your smile.” All this was uttered in a mixture of tongues so atrocious that “Subway” Smith afterward described it as a salad. The retinue bowed impressively and two or three graceless Americans applauded as vigorously as if they were approving the actions of a well-drilled comic opera chorus. Sailors were hanging in the rigging, on the davits and over the deck house roof.
“Smile for the gentleman, Peggy,” commanded Brewster delightedly. “He wants to take a short bask.”
“You are very rude, Mr. Brewster,” said Peggy, turning upon him coldly. Then to the waiting, expectant sheik: “What is the meaning of this eloquence?”
Mohammed looked bewildered for a moment and then turned to the interpreter, who cleared up the mystery surrounding her English. For the next three or four minutes the air was filled with the “Jewels of Africa,” “Star,” “Sunlight,” “Queen,” “Heavenly Joy,” “Pearl of the Desert,” and other things in bad English, worse French, and perfect Arabic. He was making promises that could not be redeemed if he lived a thousand years. In conclusion the gallant sheik drew a long breath, screwed his face into a simpering grin and played his trump card in unmistakable English. It sounded pathetically like “You’re a peach.”
An indecorous roar went up from the white spectators and a jacky in the rigging, suddenly thinking of home, piped up with a bar or two from “The Star Spangled Banner.”
Having accomplished what he considered to be his part of the ceremony the sheik arose and started toward his launch, coolly motioning for her to follow. So far as he was concerned the matter was closed. But Peggy, her heart thumping like a trip-hammer, her eyes full of excitement, implored him to stop for a moment.
“I appreciate this great honor, but I have a request to make,” she said clearly. Mohammed paused irresolutely and in some irritation.
“Here’s where the heathen gets it among the beads,” whispered Monty to Mrs. Dan, and he called out: “Captain Perry, detail half a dozen men to pick up the beads that are about to slip from his majesty’s neck.”
CHAPTER XXIV
THE SHEIK’S STRATEGY
Peggy gave the sheik an entrancing smile, followed by a brief glance at the beaming Miss Valentine, who nodded her head approvingly.
“Won’t you give me time to go below and pack my belongings that they may be sent ashore?” she asked naively.
“Thunder!” gasped Monty. “That’s no way to turn him down.”
“What do you mean, Monty Brewster?” she cried, turning upon him with flashing eyes.
“Why, you’re encouraging the old guy,” he protested, disappointment in every inflection.
“And what if I am? Isn’t it my affair? I think I am right in suspecting that he has asked me to be his wife. Isn’t it my privilege to accept him if I wish?”
Brewster’s face was
a study. He could not believe that she was in earnest, but there was a ghastly feeling that the joke was being turned on him. The rest of the company stared hard at the flushed Peggy and breathlessly waited developments.
“It won’t do to trifle with this chap, Peggy,” said Monty, coming quite close to her. “Don’t lead him on. He might get nasty if he thinks you’re making sport of him.”
“You are quite absurd, Monty,” she cried, petulantly. “I am not making sport of him.”
“Well, then, why don’t you tell him to go about his business?”
“I don’t see any beads lying around loose,” said “Rip” tormentingly. The sheik impatiently said something to the interpreter and that worthy repeated it for Peggy’s benefit.
“The Son of the Prophet desires that you be as quick as possible, Queen of the World. He tires of waiting and commands you to come with him at once.”
Peggy winced and her eyes shot a brief look of scorn at the scowling sheik. In an instant, however, she was smiling agreeably and was turning toward the steps.
“Holy mackerel! Where are you going, Peggy?” cried Lotless, the first to turn fearful.
“To throw some things into my trunk,” she responded airily. “Will you come with me, Mary?”
“Peggy!” cried Brewster angrily. “This has gone far enough.”
“You should have spoken sooner, Monty,” she said quietly.
“What are you going to do, Margaret?” cried Mrs. Dan, her eyes wide with amazement.
“I am going to marry the Son of the Prophet,” she replied so decidedly that every one gasped. A moment later she was surrounded by a group of excited women, and Captain Perry was calling the “jackies” forward in a voice of thunder.
Brewster pushed his way to her side, his face as white as death.
“This isn’t a joke, Peggy,” he cried. “Go below and I’ll get rid of the sheik.”
Just then the burly Algerian asserted himself. He did not like the way in which his adored one was being handled by the “white dogs,” and with two spearmen he rushed up to Brewster, jabbering angrily.
“Stand back, you idiot, or I’ll punch your head off,” said Brewster, with sudden emphasis.
It was not until this moment that Peggy realized that there might be a serious side to the little farce she and Mary had decided to play for the punishment of Brewster. Terror suddenly took the place of mirth, and she clung frantically to Monty’s arm. “I was joking, Monty, only joking,” she cried. “Oh, what have I done?”
“It’s my fault,” he exclaimed, “but I’ll take care of you, never fear.”
“Stand aside!” roared the sheik threateningly.
The situation was ominous. Frightened as they were the women could not flee, but stood as if petrified. Sailors eagerly swarmed to the deck.
“Get off this boat,” said Monty, ominously calm, to the interpreter, “or we’ll pitch you and your whole mob into the sea.”
“Keep cool! Keep cool!” cried “Subway” Smith quickly. He stepped between Brewster and the angry suitor, and that action alone prevented serious trouble. While he parleyed with the sheik Mrs. DeMille hurried Peggy to a safe place below deck, and they were followed by a flock of shivering women. Poor Peggy was almost in tears and the piteous glances she threw at Brewster when he stepped between her and the impetuous sheik, who had started to follow, struck deep into his heart and made him ready to fight to the death for her.
It took nearly an hour to convince the Algerian that Peggy had misunderstood him and that American women were not to be wooed after the African fashion. He finally departed with his entire train, thoroughly dissatisfied and in high dudgeon. At first he threatened to take her by force; then he agreed to give her another day in which to make up her mind to go with him peaceably, and again he concluded that a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush.
Brewster stood gloomily on the outside of the excited group glowering upon the ugly suitor. Cooler heads had relegated him to this place of security during the diplomatic contest. The sheik’s threats of vengeance were direful. He swore by somebody’s beard that he would bring ten thousand men to establish his claim by force. His intense desire to fight for her then and there was quelled by Captain Perry’s detachment of six lusty sailors, whose big bare fists were shaken vigorously under a few startled noses. It took all the fight out of the sheik and his train. Three retainers fell into the sea while trying to retreat as far as possible from danger.
Mohammed departed with the irate declaration that he would come another day and that the whole world would tremble at his approach. Disgusted with himself and afraid to meet the eyes of the other men, Brewster went below in search of Peggy. He took time to comfort the anxious women who crowded about him and then asked for Miss Gray. She was in her stateroom and would not come forth. When he knocked at the door a dismal, troubled voice from within told him to go away.
“Come out, Peggy; it’s all over,” he called.
“Please go away, Monty,” she said.
“What are you doing in there?” There was a long pause, and then came the pitiful little wail: “I am unpacking, please, sir.”
That night Brewster entertained on board the yacht, several resident French and English acquaintances being the guests of honor. The story of the day was told by Mrs. Dan DeMille, commissioned especially for the duty. She painted the scene so vividly that the guests laughed with joy over the discomfiture of the sheik. Peggy and Brewster found themselves looking sheepishly at one another now and then in the course of the recital. She purposely had avoided him during the evening, but she had gamely endured the raillery that came from the rest of the party. If she was a bit pale, it was not surprising. Now that it was over the whole affair appalled her more than she could have suspected. When several of the guests of the evening soberly announced that Mohammed was a dangerous man and even an object of worry to the government she felt a strange catch in her throat and her now mirthless eyes turned instinctively to Brewster, who, it seemed, was the sheik’s special object of aversion.
The next day she and Monty talked it over. The penitence of both was beautiful to behold. Each denied the other the privilege of assuming all the blame and both were so happy that Mohammed was little more than a preposition in their conversation so far as prominence was concerned. But all day long the harbor was full of fisher boats, and at nightfall they still were lolling about, sinister, restless, mysterious like purposeless buzzards. And the dark men on board were taking up no fish, neither were they minding the nets that lay dry and folded in the bottom of their boats.
Far into the night there was revelry on board the “Flitter,” more guests having come out from the city. The dark hours before the dawn of day had arrived before they put off for shore, but the fisher boats still were bobbing about in the black waters of the harbor. The lights gradually disappeared from the port-holes of the yacht, and the tired watch was about to be relieved. Monty Brewster and Peggy remained on deck after the guests had gone over the side of the vessel. They were leaning over the rail aft listening to the jovial voices of the visitors as they grew fainter and fainter in the distance. The lights of the town were few, but they could plainly be seen from the offing.
“Are you tired, Peggy?” asked Brewster, with a touch of tenderness. Somehow of late he had often felt a strange desire to take her in his arms, and now it was strong upon him. She was very near, and there was a drooping weariness in her attitude which seemed to demand protection.
“I have a queer feeling that something awful is going to happen tonight, Monty,” she answered, trouble in her soft voice.
“You’re nervous, that’s all,” he said, “and you should get to sleep. Good-night.” Their hands touched in the darkness, and the thrill that went over him told a truth of which he had been only vaguely conscious. The power of it made him exultant. Yet when he thought of her and her too quiet affection for him it left him despondent.
Something bumped against the side of the sh
ip and a grating sound followed. Then came other gentle thuds combined with the soft swish of water disturbed. Peggy and Brewster were on the point of going below when their attention was caught by these strange sounds.
“What is it?” she asked as they paused irresolutely. He strode to the rail, the girl following close behind him. Three sharp little whistles came from above and behind them, but before they had time even to speculate as to their meaning the result was in evidence.
Over the sides of the ship came shadowy forms as if by magic; at their backs panther-like bodies dropped to the deck with stealthy thuds, as if coming from the inky sky above. There was an instant of dreadful calm and then the crisis. A dozen sinewy forms hurled themselves upon Brewster, who, taken completely by surprise, was thrown to the deck in an instant, his attempt to cry out for help being checked by heavy hands. Peggy’s scream was cut off quickly, and paralyzed by terror, she felt herself engulfed in strong arms and smothered into silence. It all happened so quickly that there was no chance to give the alarm, no opportunity to resist.
Brewster felt himself lifted bodily, and then there was the sensation of falling. He struck something forcibly with all his weight and fell back with a crash to the deck. Afterward he found that the effort to throw him overboard had failed only because his assailants in their haste had hurled him against an unseen stanchion. Peggy was borne forward and lowered swiftly into arms that deposited her roughly upon something hard. There was a jerky, rocking motion, the sudden splash of oars, and then she knew no more.
The invaders had planned with a craftiness and patience that deserved success. For hours they had waited, silently, watchfully, and with deadly assurance. How they crept up to the “Flitter” in such numbers and how the more daring came aboard long before the blow was struck, no one ever explained. So quickly and so accurately was the abduction performed that the boats were well clear of the yacht before alarm was given by one of the watch who had been overlooked in the careful assault.
The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories Page 14