by G. A. Henty
Chapter 20: A Momentous Communication.
Gregory had, after finishing the record, sat without moving until thedinner hour. It was a relief to him to know that his father had notspent the last years of his life as he had feared, as a miserableslave--ill treated, reviled, insulted, perhaps chained and beaten bysome brutal taskmaster; but had been in a position where, save that hewas an exile, kept from his home and wife, his lot had not beenunbearable. He knew more of him than he had ever known before. It wasas a husband that his mother had always spoken of him; but here he sawthat he was daring, full of resource, quick to grasp any opportunity,hopeful and yet patient, longing eagerly to rejoin his wife, and yetcontent to wait until the chances should be all in his favour. He wasunaffectedly glad thus to know him; to be able, in future, to think ofhim as one of whom he would have been proud; who would assuredly havewon his way to distinction.
It was not so that he had before thought of him. His mother had saidthat he was of good family, and that it was on account of his marriagewith her that he had quarrelled with his relations. It had alwaysseemed strange to him that he should have been content to take, as shehad told him, an altogether subordinate position in a mercantile housein Alexandria. She had accounted for his knowledge of Arabic by thefact that he had been, for two years, exploring the temples and tombsof Egypt with a learned professor; but surely, as a man of good family,he could have found something to do in England, instead of coming outto take so humble a post in Egypt.
Gregory knew nothing of the difficulty that a young man in England has,in obtaining an appointment of any kind, or of fighting his way singlehanded. Influence went for much in Egypt, and it seemed to him that,even if his father had quarrelled with his own people, there must havebeen many ways open to him of maintaining himself honourably. Thereforehe had always thought that, although he might have been all that hismother described him--the tenderest and most loving of husbands, agentleman, and estimable in all respects--his father must have beenwanting in energy and ambition, deficient in the qualities that wouldfit him to fight his own battle, and content to gain a mere competence,instead of struggling hard to make his way up the ladder. He hadaccounted for his going up as interpreter, with Hicks Pasha, by thefact that his work with the contractor was at an end, and that he sawno other opening for himself.
He now understood how mistaken he had been, in his estimate of hisfather's character; and wondered, even more than before, why he shouldhave taken that humble post at Alexandria. His mother had certainlytold him, again and again, that he had done so simply because thedoctors had said that she could not live in England; but surely, in allthe wide empire of England, there must be innumerable posts that agentleman could obtain. Perhaps he should understand it better, someday. At present, it seemed unaccountable to him. He felt sure that, hadhe lived, his father would have made a name for himself; and that itwas in that hope, and not of the pay that he would receive as aninterpreter, that he had gone up with Hicks; and that, had he not diedat that little village by the Nile, he would assuredly have done so,for the narrative he had left behind him would in itself, if published,have shown what stuff there was in him.
It was hard that fate should have snatched him away, just when it hadseemed that his trials were over, that he was on the point of beingreunited to his wife. Still, it was a consolation to know he had diedsuddenly, as one falls in battle; not as a slave, worn out by grief andsuffering.
As he left his hut, he said to Zaki:
"I shall not want you again this evening; but mind, we must be on themove at daylight."
"You did not say whether we were to take the horses, Master; but Isuppose you will do so?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you that we are going to have camels. They are tobe put on board for us, tonight. They are fast camels and, as thedistance from the point where we shall land to the Atbara will not bemore than seventy or eighty miles, we shall be able to do it in a day."
"That will be very good, master. Camels are much better than horses,for the desert. I have got everything else ready."
After dinner was over, the party broke up quickly, as many of theofficers had preparations to make. Gregory went off to the tent of theofficer with whom he was best acquainted in the Soudanese regiment.
"I thought that I would come and have a chat with you, if you happenedto be in."
"I shall be very glad, but I bar Fashoda. One is quite sick of thename."
"No, it was not Fashoda that I was going to talk to you about. I wantto ask you something about England. I know really nothing about it, forI was born in Alexandria, shortly after my parents came out fromEngland.
"Is it easy for anyone who has been well educated, and who is agentleman, to get employment there? I mean some sort of appointment,say, in India or the West Indies."
"Easy! My dear Hilliard, the camel in the eye of a needle is a joke toit. If a fellow is eighteen, and has had a first-rate education and agood private coach, that is, a tutor, he may pass through hisexamination either for the army, or the civil service, or the Indianservice. There are about five hundred go up to each examination, andseventy or eighty at the outside get in. The other four hundred or soare chucked. Some examinations are for fellows under nineteen, othersare open for a year or two longer. Suppose, finally, you don't get in;that is to say, when you are two-and-twenty, your chance of getting anyappointment, whatever, in the public service is at an end."
"Then interest has nothing to do with it?"
"Well, yes. There are a few berths in the Foreign Office, for example,in which a man has to get a nomination before going in for the exam;but of course the age limit tells there, as well as in any other."
"And if a man fails altogether, what is there open to him?"
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, as far as I know, if he hasn't capital he can emigrate. That iswhat numbers of fellows do. If he has interest, he can get a commissionin the militia, and from that possibly into the line; or he can enlistas a private, for the same object. There is a third alternative, he canhang himself. Of course, if he happens to have a relation in the cityhe can get a clerkship; but that alternative, I should say, is worsethan the third."
"But I suppose he might be a doctor, a clergyman, or a lawyer?"
"I don't know much about those matters, but I do know that it takesabout five years' grinding, and what is called 'walking the hospitals,'that is, going round the wards with the surgeons, before one islicensed to kill. I think, but I am not sure, that three years at thebar would admit you to practice, and usually another seven or eightyears are spent, before you earn a penny. As for the Church, you haveto go through the university, or one of the places we call trainingcolleges; and when, at last, you are ordained, you may reckon, unlessyou have great family interest, on remaining a curate, with perhaps onehundred or one hundred and fifty pounds per annum, for eighteen ortwenty years."
"And no amount of energy will enable a man of, say, four-and-twenty,without a profession, to obtain a post on which he could live with somedegree of comfort?"
"I don't think energy would have anything to do with it. You cannotdrop into a merchant's office and say, 'I want a snug berth, out inChina;' or 'I should like an agency, in Mesopotamia.' If you have luck,anything is possible. If you haven't luck, you ought to fall back on mythree alternatives--emigrate, enlist, or hang yourself. Of course, youcan sponge on your friends for a year or two, if you are mean enough todo so; but there is an end to that sort of thing, in time.
"May I ask why you put the question, Hilliard? You have really asplendid opening, here. You are surely not going to be foolish enoughto chuck it, with the idea of returning to England, and taking anythingthat may turn up?"
"No, I am not so foolish as that. I have had, as you say,luck--extraordinary luck--and I have quite made up my mind to stay inthe service. No, I am really asking you because I know so little ofEngland that I wondered how men who had a fair education, but no familyinterest, did get on."
"The
y very rarely do get on," the other said. "Of course, if they areinventive geniuses they may discover something--an engine, for example,that will do twice the work with half the consumption of fuel that anyother engine will do; or, if chemically inclined, they may discoversomething that will revolutionize dyeing, for example: but not one manin a thousand is a genius; and, as a rule, the man you are speakingof--the ordinary public school and 'varsity man--if he has no interest,and is not bent upon entering the army, even as a private, emigrates ifhe hasn't sufficient income to live upon at home."
"Thank you! I had no idea it was so difficult to make a living inEngland, or to obtain employment, for a well-educated man of two orthree and twenty."
"My dear Hilliard, that is the problem that is exercising the minds ofthe whole of the middle class of England, with sons growing up. Ofcourse, men of business can take their sons into their own offices, andtrain them to their own profession; but after all, if a man has four orfive sons, he cannot take them all into his office with a view topartnership. He may take one, but the others have to make their ownway, somehow."
They chatted now upon the war, the dates upon which the variousregiments would go down, and the chance of the Khalifa collectinganother army, and trying conclusions with the invaders again. At last,Gregory got up and went back to his hut. He could now understand whyhis father, having quarrelled with his family, might have found himselfobliged to take the first post that was offered, however humble, inorder to obtain the advantage of a warm climate for his wife.
"He must have felt it awfully," he mused. "If he had been the sort ofman I had always thought him, he could have settled down to the life.But now I know him better, I can understand that it must have beenterrible for him, and he would be glad to exchange it for theinterpretership, where he would have some chance of distinguishinghimself; or, at any rate, of taking part in exciting events.
"I will open that packet, but from what my mother said, I do not thinkit will be of any interest to me, now. I fancy, by what she said, thatit contained simply my father's instructions as to what she was to do,in the event of his death during the campaign. I don't see what else itcan be."
He drew the curtains he had rigged up, at the doorway and window, tokeep out insects; lighted his lantern; and then, sitting down on theground by his bed, opened the packet his mother had given him. Theouter cover was in her handwriting.
"My dearest boy:
"I have, as I told you, kept the enclosed packet, which is not to beopened until I have certain news of your father's death. This news, Itrust, you will some day obtain. As you see, the enclosed packet isdirected to me. I do not think that you will find in it anything ofimportance, to yourself. It probably contains only directions andadvice for my guidance, in case I should determine to return toEngland. I have been the less anxious to open it, because I have beenconvinced that it is so; for of course, I know the circumstances of hisfamily, and there could be nothing new that he could write to me onthat score.
"I have told you that he quarrelled with his father, because he choseto marry me. As you have heard from me, I was the daughter of aclergyman, and at his death took a post as governess. Your father fellin love with me. He was the son of the Honorable James Hartley, who wasbrother to the Earl of Langdale. Your father had an elder brother. Mr.Hartley was a man of the type now, happily, less common than it wastwenty years ago. He had but a younger brother's portion, and a smallestate that had belonged to his mother; but he was as proud as if hehad been a peer of the realm, and owner of a county. I do not knowexactly what the law of England is--whether, at the death of hisbrother, your grandfather would have inherited the title, or not. Inever talked on this subject with your father, who very seldom alludedto matters at home. He had, also, two sisters.
"As he was clever, and had already gained some reputation by hisexplorations in Egypt; and was, moreover, an exceptionally handsomeman--at least, I thought so--your grandfather made up his mind that hewould make a very good marriage. When he learned of your father'saffection for me, he was absolutely furious, told his son that he neverwished to see him again, and spoke of me in a manner that Gregoryresented; and as a result, they quarrelled.
"Your father left the house, never to enter it again. I would havereleased him from his promise, but he would not hear of it, and we weremarried. He had written for magazines and newspapers, on Egyptiansubjects, and thought that he could make a living for us both, with hispen; but unhappily, he found that great numbers of men were trying todo the same; and that, although his papers on Egyptian discoveries hadalways been accepted, it was quite another thing when he came to writeon general subjects.
"We had a hard time of it, but we were very happy, nevertheless. Thencame the time when my health began to give way. I had a terrible cough,and the doctor said that I must have a change to a warmer climate. Wewere very poor then--so poor that we had only a few shillings left, andlived in one room. Your father saw an advertisement for a man to go outto the branch of a London firm, at Alexandria. Without saying a word tome, he went and obtained it, thanks to his knowledge of Arabic.
"He was getting on well in the firm, when the bombardment of Alexandriatook place. The offices and stores of his employers were burned; and,as it would take many months before they could be rebuilt, theemployees were ordered home; but any who chose to stay were permittedto do so, and received three months' pay. Your father saw that therewould be many chances, when the country settled down, and so took apost under a contractor of meat for the army.
"We moved to Cairo. Shortly after our arrival there he was, as hethought, fortunate in obtaining the appointment of an interpreter withHicks Pasha. I did not try to dissuade him. Everyone supposed that theEgyptian troops would easily defeat the Dervishes. There was somedanger, of course; but it seemed to me, as it did to him, that thisopening would lead to better things; and that, when the rebellion wasput down, he would be able to obtain some good civil appointment, inthe Soudan. It was not the thought of his pay, as interpreter, thatweighed in the slightest with either of us. I was anxious, above allthings, that he should be restored to a position where he couldassociate with gentlemen, as one of themselves, and could again takehis real name."
Gregory started, as he read this. He had never had an idea that thename he bore was not rightly his own, and even the statement of hisgrandfather's name had not struck him as affecting himself.
"Your father had an honourable pride in his name, which was an old one;and when he took the post at Alexandria, which was little above that ofan ordinary office messenger, he did not care that he should berecognized, or that one of his name should be known to be occupyingsuch a station. He did not change his name, he simply dropped thesurname. His full name was Gregory Hilliard Hartley. He had alwaysintended, when he had made a position for himself, to recur to it; and,of course, it will be open to you to do so, also. But I know that itwould have been his wish that you, like him, should not do so, unlessyou had made such a position for yourself that you would be a credit toit.
"On starting, your father left me to decide whether I should go home. Iimagine that the packet merely contains his views on that subject. Heknew what mine were. I would rather have begged my bread, than havegone back to ask for alms of the man who treated his son so cruelly. Itis probable that, by this time, the old man is dead; but I shouldobject as much to have to appeal to my husband's brother, a character Idisliked. Although he knew that his father's means were small, he wasextravagant to the last degree, and the old man was weak enough to keephimself in perpetual difficulties, to satisfy his son. Your fatherlooked for no pecuniary assistance from his brother; but the lattermight, at least, have come to see him; or written kindly to him, whenhe was in London. As your father was writing in his own name formagazines, his address could be easily found out, by anyone who wantedto know it. He never sent one single word to him, and I should objectquite as much to appeal to him, as to the old man.
"As to the sisters, who were younger than my husband, they were
nicegirls; but even if your grandfather is dead, and has, as no doubt wouldbe the case, left what he had between them, it certainly would notamount to much. Your father has told me that the old man had mortgagedthe estate, up to the hilt, to pay his brother's debts; and that whenit came to be sold, as it probably would be at his death, there wouldbe very little left for the girls. Therefore, certainly I could not goand ask them to support us.
"My hope is, my dear boy, that you may be able to make your way, here,in the same manner as your father was doing, when he fell; and that,someday, you may attain to an honourable position, in which you will beable, if you visit England, to call upon your aunts, not as one who hasanything to ask of them, but as a relative of whom they need not feelin any way ashamed.
"I feel that my end is very near, Gregory. I hope to say all that Ihave to say to you, before it comes, but I may not have an opportunity;and in that case, some time may elapse before you read this, and itwill come to you as a voice from the grave. I am not, in any way,wishing to bind you to any course of action, but only to explain fullyyour position to you, and to tell you my thoughts.
"God bless you, my dear boy, prosper and keep you! I know enough of youto be sure that, whatever your course may be, you will bear yourself asa true gentleman, worthy of your father and of the name you bear.
"Your loving Mother."
Gregory sat for some time before opening the other enclosure. Itcontained an open envelope, on which was written "To my Wife;" andthree others, also unfastened, addressed respectively, "The Hon. JamesHartley, King's Lawn, Tavistock, Devon"; the second, "G. HilliardHartley, Esquire, The Albany, Piccadilly, London;" the third, "MissHartley," the address being the same as that of her father. He firstopened the one to his mother.
"My dearest Wife,
"I hope that you will never read these lines, but that I shall returnto you safe and sound--I am writing this, in case it should beotherwise--and that you will never have occasion to read theseinstructions, or rather I should say this advice, for it is no morethan that. We did talk the matter over, but you were so wholly aversefrom any idea of ever appealing to my father, or family, however sorethe straits to which you might be reduced, that I could not urge thematter upon you; and yet, although I sympathize most thoroughly withyour feelings, I think that in case of dire necessity you should do so,and at least afford my father the opportunity of making up for histreatment of myself. The small sum that I left in your hands must soonbe exhausted. If I am killed, you will, perhaps, obtain a smallpension; but this, assuredly, would not be sufficient to maintain youand the boy in comfort. I know that you said, at the time, thatpossibly you could add to it by teaching. Should this be so, you may beable to remain in Egypt; and when the boy grows up, he will obtainemployment of some sort, here.
"But should you be unsuccessful in this direction, I do not see whatyou could do. Were you to go to England, with the child, what chancewould you have of obtaining employment there, without friends orreferences? I am frightened at the prospect. I know that, were youalone, you would do anything rather than apply to my people; but youhave the child to think of, and, painful as it would be to you, it yetseems to me the best thing that could be done. At any rate, I encloseyou three letters to my brother, father, and sisters. I have no legalclaim on any of them, but I certainly have a moral claim on my brother.It is he who has impoverished the estate, so that, even had I notquarrelled with my father, there could never, after provision had beenmade for my sisters, have been anything to come to me.
"I do not ask you to humiliate yourself, by delivering these letterspersonally. I would advise you to post them from Cairo, enclosing ineach a note saying how I fell, and that you are fulfilling myinstructions, by sending the letter I wrote before leaving you. It maybe that you will receive no reply. In that case, whatever happens toyou and the child, you will have nothing to reproach yourself for.Possibly my father may have succeeded to the title and, if for no otherreason, he may then be willing to grant you an allowance, on conditionthat you do not return to England; as he would know that it would benothing short of a scandal, that the wife of one of his sons was tryingto earn her bread in this country.
"Above all, dear, I ask you not to destroy these letters. You may, atfirst, scorn the idea of appealing for help; but the time might come,as it came to us in London, when you feel that fate is too strong foryou, and that you can struggle no longer. Then you might regret, forthe sake of the child, that you had not sent these letters.
"It is a terrible responsibility that I am leaving you. I well knowthat you will do all, dear, that it is possible for you to do, to avoidthe necessity for sending these letters. That I quite approve, if youcan struggle on. God strengthen you to do it! It is only if you failthat I say, send them. My father may, by this time, regret that hedrove me from home. He may be really anxious to find me, and at leastit is right that he should have the opportunity of making what amendshe can. From my sisters, I know that you can have little but sympathy;but that, I feel sure, they will give you, and even sympathy is a greatdeal, to one who has no friends. I feel it sorely that I should havenaught to leave you but my name, and this counsel. Earnestly I hope andpray that it may never be needed.
"Yours till death,
"Gregory Hilliard Hartley."
Gregory then opened the letter to his grandfather.
"Dear Father,
"You will not receive this letter till after my death. I leave itbehind me, while I go up with General Hicks to the Soudan. It will notbe sent to you, unless I die there. I hope that, long ere this, you mayhave felt, as I have done, that we were both somewhat in the wrong, inthe quarrel that separated us. You, I think, were hard. I, no doubt,was hasty. You, I think, assumed more than was your right, in demandingthat I should break a promise that I had given, to a lady against whomnothing could be said, save that she was undowered. Had I, likeGeoffrey, been drawing large sums of money from you, you wouldnecessarily have felt yourself in a position to have a very strongvoice in so important a matter. But the very moderate allowance Ireceived, while at the University, was never increased. I do not thinkit is too much to say that, for every penny I have got from you,Geoffrey has received a guinea.
"However, that is past and gone. I have been fighting my own battle,and was on my way to obtaining a good position. Until I did so, Idropped our surname. I did not wish that it should be known that one ofour family was working, in an almost menial position, in Egypt. I havenow obtained the post of interpreter, on the staff of General Hicks;and, if he is successful in crushing the rebellion, I shall be certainof good, permanent employment, when I can resume my name. The fact thatyou receive this letter will be a proof that I have fallen in battle,or by disease.
"I now, as a dying prayer, beg you to receive my wife and boy; or, ifthat cannot be, to grant her some small annuity, to assist her in herstruggle with the world. Except for her sake, I do not regret mymarriage. She has borne the hardships, through which we have passed,nobly and without a murmur. She has been the best of wives to me, andhas proved herself a noble woman, in every respect.
"I leave the matter in your hands, Father, feeling assured that, fromyour sense of justice alone, if not for the affection you once bore me,you will befriend my wife. As I know that the Earl was in feeblehealth, when I left England; you may, by this time, have come into thetitle, in which case you will be able, without in any wayinconveniencing yourself, to settle an annuity upon my wife, sufficientto keep her in comfort. I can promise, in her name, that in that caseyou will never be troubled in any way by her; and she will probablytake up her residence, permanently, in Egypt, as she is not strong, andthe warm climate is essential to her."
The letter to his brother was shorter.
"My dear Geoffrey,
"I am going up, with General Hicks, to the Soudan. If you receive thisletter, it will be because I have died there. I leave behind me my wife,and a boy. I know that, at present, you are scarcely likely to be ableto do much for them, pecuniarily; but as you will s
omeday--possibly nota very distant one--inherit the title and estate, you will then be ableto do so, without hurting yourself.
"We have never seen much of each other. You left school before I beganit, and you left Oxford two years before I went up to Cambridge. Youhave never been at home much, since; and I was two years in Egypt, andhave now been about the same time, here. I charge my wife to send youthis, and I trust that, for my sake, you will help her. She does notthink of returning to England. Life is not expensive, in this country.Even an allowance of a hundred a year would enable her to remain here.If you can afford double that, do so for my sake; but, at any rate, Ifeel that I can rely upon you to do at least that much, when you comeinto the title. Had I lived, I should never have troubled anyone athome; but as I shall be no longer able to earn a living for her and theboy, I trust that you will not think it out of the way for me to askfor what would have been a very small younger brother's allowance, hadI remained at home."
The letter to his sisters was in a different strain.
"My dear Flossie and Janet,
"I am quite sure that you, like myself, felt deeply grieved over ourseparation; and I can guess that you will have done what you could,with our father, to bring about a reconciliation. When you receivethis, dears, I shall have gone. I am about to start on an expeditionthat is certain to be dangerous, and which may be fatal; and I haveleft this with my wife, to send you if she has sure news of my death. Ihave had hard times. I see my way now, and I hope that I shall, erelong, receive a good official appointment, out here. Still, it is aswell to prepare for the worst; and if you receive this letter, theworst has come. As I have only just begun to rise again in the world, Ihave been able to make no provision for my wife. I know that you likedher, and that you would by no means have disapproved of the step Itook. If our father has not come into the title, when you receive this,your pocket money will be only sufficient for your own wants; thereforeI am not asking for help in that way, but only that you will write toher an affectionate letter. She is without friends, and will fight herbattle as best she can. She is a woman in a thousand, and worthy of theaffection and esteem of any man on earth.
"There is a boy, too--another Gregory Hilliard Hartley. She will bealone in the world with him, and a letter from you would be veryprecious to her. Probably, by the same post as you receive this, ourfather will also get one requesting more substantial assistance, butwith that you have nothing to do. I am only asking that you will lether know there are, at least, two people in the world who take aninterest in her, and my boy.
"Your affectionate Brother."
There was yet another envelope, with no address upon it. It containedtwo documents. One was a copy of the certificate of marriage, betweenGregory Hilliard Hartley and Anne Forsyth, at Saint Paul's Church,Plymouth; with the names of two witnesses, and the signature of theofficiating minister. The other was a copy of the register of thebirth, at Alexandria, of Gregory Hilliard, son of Gregory HilliardHartley and Anne, his wife. A third was a copy of the register ofbaptism of Gregory Hilliard Hartley, the son of Gregory Hilliard andAnne Hartley, at the Protestant Church, Alexandria.
"I will write, someday, to my aunts," Gregory said, as he replaced theletters in the envelopes. "The others will never go. Still, I may aswell keep them.
"So I am either grandson or nephew of an earl. I can't say that I amdazzled by the honour. I should like to know my aunts, but as for theother two, I would not go across the street to make theiracquaintance."
He carefully stowed the letters away in his portmanteau, and then laydown for a few hours' sleep.
"The day is breaking, master," Zaki said, laying his hand uponGregory's shoulder.
"All right, Zaki! While you get the water boiling, I shall run down tothe river and have a bathe, and shall be ready for my cocoa, in twentyminutes."
"Are we going to put on those Dervish dresses at once, master? Theycame yesterday evening."
"No; I sha'n't change till we get to the place where we land."
As soon as he had breakfasted, he told Zaki to carry his portmanteau,bed, and other belongings to the house that served as a store forGeneral Hunter's staff. He waited until his return, and then told himto take the two rifles, the packets of ammunition, the spears, and theDervish dresses down to the steamer. Then he joined the General, whowas just starting, with his staff, to superintend the embarkation.
Three steamers were going up, and each towed a barge, in which thegreater part of the troops was to be stowed, and in the stern of one ofthese knelt two camels.
"There are your nags, Mr. Hilliard," the General said. "There is anattendant with each. They will manage them better than strangers, andwithout them we might have a job in getting the animals ashore. Ofcourse, I shall take the drivers on with us. The sheik told me thecamels are two of the fastest he has ever had. He has sent saddles withthem, and water skins. The latter you will probably not want, if allgoes well. Still, it is better to take them."
"I shall assuredly do so, sir. They may be useful to us, on the ride,and though I suppose the camels would do well enough without them, itis always well to be provided, when one goes on an expedition, for anyemergency that may occur."
An hour later, the steamer started. The river was still full, and thecurrent rapid, and they did not move more than five miles an houragainst it. At the villages they passed, the people flocked down to thebanks, with cries of welcome and the waving of flags. They felt, now,that their deliverance was accomplished, and that they were free fromthe tyranny that had, for so many years, oppressed them.
The banks were for the most part low; and, save at these villages, thejourney was a monotonous one. The steamers kept on their way tillnightfall, and then anchored.
They started again, at daybreak. At breakfast, General Hunter said:
"I think that in another two hours we shall be pretty well due west ofEl Fasher, so you had better, presently, get into your Dervish dress.You have got some iodine from the doctor, have you not?"
"Yes."
"You had better stain yourself all over, and take a good supply, incase you have to do it again."
Gregory went below, and had his head shaved by one of the Soudanese;then re-stained himself, from head to foot, and put on the Dervishattire--loose trousers and a long smock, with six large square patches,arranged in two lines, in front. A white turban and a pair of shoescompleted the costume. The officers laughed, as he came on deck again.
"You look an out-and-out Dervish, Hilliard," one of them said. "It islucky that there are none of the Lancers scouting about. They wouldhardly give you time to explain, especially with that rifle and spear."
Presently they came to a spot where the water was deep up to the bank,which was some six feet above its level. The barge with the camels wasbrought up alongside. It had no bulwark, and as the deck was level withthe land, the camels were, with a good deal of pressing on the part oftheir drivers, and pushing by as many Soudanese as could come nearenough to them, got ashore.
None of the Soudanese recognized Gregory, and looked greatly surprisedat the sudden appearance of two Dervishes among them. As soon as thecamels were landed, Gregory and Zaki mounted them.
"You had better keep, if anything, to the south of east," GeneralHunter's last instructions had been. "Unless Parsons has been greatlydelayed, they should be two or three days' march farther up the river,and every mile you strike the stream, behind him, is so much timelost."
He waved his hand to them and wished them farewell, as they started,and his staff shouted their wishes for a safe journey. The blacksoldiers, seeing that, whoever these Dervishes might be, they were wellknown to the General and his officers, raised a cheer; to which Zaki,who had hitherto kept in the background, waved his rifle in reply. Ashis face was familiar to numbers of the Soudanese, they now recognizedhim, and cheered more heartily than before, laughing like schoolboys atthe transformation.