On the Road to Bagdad: A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris

  Produced by sp1nd, Mary Meehan and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive)

  On the Road to Bagdad

  A Story of Townshend's Gallant Advance on the Tigris

  BY CAPTAIN F. S. BRERETON

  Author of "With Joffre at Verdun" "Under French's Command" "With Our Russian Allies" &c. &c.

  _Illustrated by Wal Paget_

  BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY 1917

  "THE CHIEF RETURNED THE OFFICER'S FRANK GAZE WITH AGLANCE WHICH TOLD OF COURAGE AND PRIDE"]

  Contents

  CHAP. PAGE

  I. A FRONTIER STATION 9

  II. GEOFFREY KEITH AND ANOTHER 23

  III. THE PERSIAN GULF 39

  IV. THE FIRST ENCOUNTER 58

  V. NEWS OF THE ENEMY 76

  VI. AN EXPLORING-PARTY 94

  VII. MAJOR JOSEPH DOUGLAS 117

  VIII. THE MOTOR-BOAT IN ACTION 140

  IX. A CUTTING-OUT EXPEDITION 159

  X. GEOFF AND PHILIP MANOEUVRE 175

  XI. A SOLDIERS' BATTLE 197

  XII. ESBUL, THE ARMENIAN 214

  XIII. AN AMPHIBIOUS EXPEDITION 232

  XIV. CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY 251

  XV. VON HILDEMALLER'S INTERVENTION 270

  XVI. BREAKING OUT 290

  XVII. THE ROAD TO BAGDAD 309

  XVIII. NEWS OF DOUGLAS PASHA 327

  XIX. TRACKING THE GERMAN 348

  XX. SUCCESS AT LAST 365

  Illustrations

  Page

  "THE CHIEF RETURNED THE OFFICER'S FRANK GAZE WITH A GLANCE WHICH TOLD OF COURAGE AND PRIDE" (_Frontispiece_) 81

  "WHAT WAS LEFT OF THOSE ARAB HORSEMEN SCATTERED AND FLED" 74

  "GEOFF LEVELLED HIS OWN PIECE ON HIM" 144

  "PHILIP HURLED HIMSELF AND HIS CAPTIVE OVER THE RAIL OF THE VESSEL" 192

  "GEOFF TURNED, AND, DRAWING HIS REVOLVER, EMPTIED IT AT THE TWO MEN STILL PURSUING" 224

  "THE ARAB SET OFF ALONG A PATH WITHIN SOME TWENTY YARDS OF OUR HEROES" 337

  ON THE ROAD TO BAGDAD

  CHAPTER I

  A Frontier Station

  A gun, a small brass piece, an interesting relic of other days, boomedforth the hour of noon from the lowest embrasure of a hill fortoverlooking the cantonment of the ---- Sikhs, and warned all and sundrythat it was time for tiffin. The cloud of grey smoke which blew upwardfrom the muzzle, and which was wafted ever so gently by the breezefloating toward the hill-top from the depths of the giant valley below,spread out into a thin white sheet, and, ascending slowly, first wrappedthe time-scarred walls of the old fort in its embrace, and then, gettingwhiter as it ascended, reached the battlements above, and, percolatingthrough the many gun embrasures, floated over the roof of the fortress,till the misty haze hung about the portals of the veranda of theOfficers' Mess bungalow.

  There were a dozen or more figures, dressed in khaki or in pure white,and stretched in every sort of attitude, and in every variety of chair,beneath that veranda. There were young subalterns, joined but a month ortwo since, and other subalterns whose hair at the temples was alreadyshowing some suspicion of grey while still they failed to get promotion.There was a rather stout old field officer who had seen more years ofservice in India than many of the subalterns could boast of in theirlives. A rubicund, jolly officer he was, upon whom the detestableclimate of the many stations in which he had been forced to serve hadmade not the slightest effect whatever. There was another officer, too,short, slim, and active as a cat, whose hair and moustache were as whiteas the snows capping the distant mountains. A glance told oneintuitively that here, too, was an old soldier, an old Indian soldier,that is, who had spent the better part of a long life out in the"shiney".

  "Hallo! What's the time? Anywhere near time for tiffin?" asked one ofthe "subs", whose cap had fallen over his face, and who now awakenedfrom the reverie into which he had fallen, and suddenly started upward.

  "What! So fast asleep that you didn't hear the gun?" cried a brotherofficer, smacking him heartily on the back. "Man alive! The fort's stillshaking."

  "And yet," smiled the rubicund Major who had seen so many years' servicein India, "and yet, my boys, I'll vouch for the fact that I've slept thehot hours of the morning away on the roof of this fortress a hundredtimes and more and failed to be awakened by the gun. What is more, thatreport at twelve o'clock has become a sort of habit with me, so thatI've lain here smoking and perspiring in the heat, and though the gun'sgone off as usual, and, indeed, as it's never failed to do this lasttwenty years or more, I've been startled when the mess waiter has comeout to announce tiffin. Ha! Listen! That should be proof enough that thegun has gone; the burra Mem-sahib's butler is ringing for the Colonel.Between you and me, my boys, the Colonel isn't half as punctual a man inhis own house as he is in the orderly-room, and, what's more, he expectsa great deal more of that commodity from us poor fellows than heexhibits himself. But, tut-tut! That's heresy. That's preachingrevolution. Don't any of you fellows mention it."

  He stretched his arms, and waddled, rather than strode, from theveranda, across the roof of the fortress, and through those wisps ofsmoke which still curled upward, till he was leaning upon the low wallwhich protected the edge of the fortress; and there for a while hestood, looking out upon a scene which enchanted him more on everyoccasion when he went to view it. It was habit, indeed, with the oldMajor to take stock of that view every day before tiffin, just as a _bonviveur_ takes his _aperitif_ before luncheon.

  "Braces a fellow up, don't you know," the jovial Major was wont to tellhis brother officers. "It's glorious; it's elevating; it's positivelyexhilarating; and gives a fellow a right down sharp hunger! That's whatyou boys want to cultivate out in this country. Look at me! Never sickor sorry, and have always taken my meals like a good 'un. That's becauseI've a cheerful heart, a sound digestion and constitution, and take adelight in my surroundings and in all that's doing. No grousing for me,my boys. Take everything as it comes and don't bother."

  Everyone knew the Major, and not one of the Subs but listened to what hesaid with respect and amusement.

  "Decent old fellow," he was always voted.

  "And teaches a fine lesson, too," the Colonel had told his officers onmore than one occasion. "Grousing's the curse of the British army insome stations. I don't say that British officers are in the habit ofgrumbling always; far from it. But when there's nothing doing, and afellow is tied by the leg in some frontier station, and must stay thereand groan under a roasting sun, why! if he doesn't keep himself fit andin first-class condition he gets out of sorts, and then there'sgrumbling
."

  Let us look over the wall of the fortress, where a number of officershad by now joined the stout Major, and take stock of that view which hehad proclaimed to be "exhilarating". True enough, it was one of thosemarvellous views only to be obtained on the frontier of India. The fortstood perched on a projecting eminence, around which nature, guided bythe active hands of many a succeeding garrison of soldiers, had grafteda most enchanting garden. A stream trickled from above and behind thefort, and descending the gentle slopes of the mountain, and broadeningas it came, splashed through the very heart of the cantonment gardens,and sent off a broad canal of shimmering water down beside the mainstreet. From that point it splashed over the edge of the precipice justbeneath the fortress, and, tinkling musically as it went, splashed itsway to the bottom. You could hear it from the roof of the fort. Oftenenough the sun's rays, glancing through the mists and spray thrown up bythe fall, formed a most gorgeous rainbow; while in the height of summer,when the sun, then almost overhead, poured down such furious heat thatthe roof of the fortress glowed and almost simmered, then that samemisty spray would be wafted up by a cooling draught from the valleybelow, and would fall upon the blistering skins of the officers whogasped beneath the veranda.

  Yes, even in those hill forts it can be hot enough, and where the ----Sikhs were quartered there were seasons when, not long after the sun hadrisen, no sane white man dared to venture abroad.

  And what a valley it was below! Rugged and winding, narrowing here andthere, till from the height above it looked as though a wagon could notbe driven along it, and then widening most unexpectedly and suddenlytill there came a huge saucer, as it were, in which a whole city couldhave been safely deposited. Trees clad the side of the mountain as itdescended into the valley, trees which, scattered at first, grew laterin thick clumps till they became almost a forest, and which, severed bythe river which wound its way through the valley, had taken root againon its farther bank, and went straggling up the opposite heights tillalmost the snow-line was reached. Those heights perhaps provided thesummit of grandeur to this magnificent scene. Wooded below, as we haveseen, they became rugged and broken and rocky as they ascended, tillthere was presented a row of broken irregular pinnacles, which cut alongthe sky-line right opposite the fortress, and which presented day inand day out, even on those days when the sun's rays bore down sorelentlessly upon the roof of the fortress, a continuous line of snow,hollowed here and there into deep crevasses and gullies, presenting mostgorgeous blue shades in the depths of a hundred dimples, and showingelsewhere a smooth, unbroken surface of light, which altered only whennorth-eastern gales were blowing.

  "A sight for the gods! yes," the jovial Major told his comrades,snuffing at the breeze as if he were a dog, "and who could bedown-hearted, or dull, or miserable, or even discontented, with such aview to look upon?"

  "More particularly when one knows so well that tiffin's ready, and thatthe words of wisdom of our dear old friend the Major always precede theannouncement of that meal."

  It was the white-haired senior officer who had spoken banteringly, andwho stood at that moment beside the Major, one hand affectionately onhis shoulder, the other on the parapet of the fortress.

  "There, Charlie! Didn't I say so! Listen! There's the gong going."

  The silvery notes of a gong reached their ears at that very moment, and,turning, all saw a most magnificent personage--to wit, the messbutler--standing at the door of the mess bungalow, sounding the call forluncheon. Then all turned and trooped across the roof of the fortress,across the veranda, and disappeared within the door of the bungalow.

  It was perhaps three minutes later when a tall and immaculately dressedofficer sauntered on to the roof of the fortress, and having taken stockof the view--as if he too must needs partake of some fillip beforeventuring upon luncheon--then strode off into the mess bungalow. Therehe found his brother officers already seated, and, striding down behindthem, sat himself down at his accustomed place.

  "Hallo! Back again, Joe?" ventured the jovial Major, who occupied theneighbouring chair. "Hardly expected you."

  Major Joe Douglas dropped his eyeglass as he helped himself to curry,and turned smilingly upon his brother officer.

  "Oh! Really!" he said, in those very quiet tones for which he was noted.

  "Never saw such a chap," laughed the jovial Major, as he attacked thefood which lay before him. "You come and go like a wizard. In fact,you're here one day, and gone to-morrow, and goodness only knows whereyou spirit yourself to. My dear old boy, you can't deny the accusation.Mind you, I'm not trying to be inquisitive, very far from it, for I knowthat inquisitiveness in the case of 'politicals', such as you are, is adeadly sin; but let's call it simple curiosity, harmless curiosity--thecuriosity one's allowed to display with regard to one's brotherofficers. You see, you come and go."

  "Yes. Quite so," smiled Major Douglas.

  "And sometimes you're here, kicking your heels about, and dawdling for amonth and more at a time. Then you disappear, where to, goodness aloneknows. If you were going on leave to England the whole station would beaware of it. But you don't. You haven't been home for ten years atleast. Then where do you get to?"

  Till that moment a babel of sounds had been proceeding from the membersof the mess, for a dozen subalterns can create quite a considerableamount of noise between them. Yet, as they ate their meal and banteredwith one another, not one had failed to notice the arrival of MajorJoseph Douglas. They liked the man. Not that they saw very much of him,nor could he be accused of ever being garrulous. He was just a smart,tall, immaculately dressed officer, who had a great reputation forsmartness and soldierly qualities. At first sight his eyeglass ratherawed young subalterns, till they grew to know that the Major was likeCharlie, his fat brother officer, a most excellent and unaffectedfellow. Beyond their liking for him there was, however, a depth ofcuriosity to which their senior officer had only just given expression.Such a cross-questioning of Major Douglas not one of the subalternswould ever have ventured upon. For somehow it had come to be generallyknown in the mess that the Major's movements were essentially secret. Hewas a political officer, they all knew, though what "political" meant inhis case few of them had but the faintest idea. Yet one and all werevery naturally consumed with a desire to know something of this quiet,reserved, yet exceedingly pleasant brother officer. Thus it happenedthat even in the midst of their banter they heard the old field officercross-examine the Major, and promptly became silent.

  "Well, now," they heard him say, "I've cornered you, Joe; you're here,next door to me, and can't get away; and remember it's just friendlycuriosity. Do, for goodness' sake, tell us something about yourself:where you've been of late, what you've done, and what's the meaning ofit."

  All eyes were turned promptly upon Major Joseph Douglas. He groped forhis fallen eyeglass, and fixed it very deliberately in his eye, then hesignalled to one of the mess waiters and just as deliberately helpedhimself to another share of curried chicken.

  "I--Oh--Why, Charlie!" he began. "Have you--er--that is, did you trythis curried chicken? I declare it to be the best that I've tasted for ayear or so. What's happened? Have you fellows been indulging in a newcook since I last went away, or----Do try some, Charlie, there's a goodfellow."

  Those who did not know the officers of the ---- Sikhs, and didn't knoweither Major Charles Evans or Major Joseph Douglas, might have expectedat this moment quite an explosion on the part of Major Evans. The jovialfellow had had the audacity to show curiosity. Taking advantage of hisage and of his seniority, he had ventured at the mess table tocross-examine a "political", and now, just as he was listening withbated breath for the answer, he received--merely a "put-off", and heardhis brother officer asking him, in that suave, quiet voice he knew sowell, whether he would not indulge in a helping of curried chicken. Yetthose unacquainted with the officers of the ---- Sikhs would have foundthemselves signally in error when expecting an explosion. Those twobright eyes, of which Major Evans boasted, twinkled as he listened tohi
s brother officer. Then the corners of his mouth dimpled, and a momentlater he was roaring with laughter.

  "Beaten, hopelessly beaten!" he cried jovially; "and I might haveexpected it. For an oyster, my dear boy, you really are exceptional. Nowany other fellow, any other "political", that is to say, would haveindulged in some sort of hint to relieve our curiosity, would havepitched some sort of yarn, even though it were not an exactly true one.But you--well, you're hopeless, incorrigible, and most utterlydisappointing. Boy! Bring me some iced water, I must cool myself downafter such a rebuff, and I'll----Hallo! Hallo! Here's a message."

  A native soldier stood saluting at the door of the ante-room, andpresented an official envelope to the mess butler.

  "The Major Sahib," he said.

  "The Major Douglas Sahib," the mess butler corrected him severely. "TheMajor Douglas Sahib. Quick! Important!"

  He placed the envelope on a silver salver, and, holding it there withthe tip of his thumb, came swiftly and silently round to the seatoccupied by that officer.

  "From the Colonel, Sahib," he said as he leant over Joe Douglas'sshoulder.

  Very slowly and deliberately, as if unconscious of the fact that everyeye in the mess was surreptitiously fixed upon him, Joe Douglas toreopen the envelope and read the contents of the missive.

  "Proceed at once to Bombay. There call for orders at Governor's office.Mesopotamia--urgent," he read, and those who watched him saw not so muchas a flicker of an eyelash or the smallest change of expression. Hefolded the letter up again and very deliberately placed it back in theenvelope and very leisurely deposited it in a pocket. Then he finishedhis curried chicken, called for a cup of coffee, and sat smoking acigarette and chatting with his brother officers.

  "Well?" asked Major Evans, as Joe Douglas rose to leave. "I'm serious,my boy, this time. Everyone knows that things are moving over in Europeand elsewhere, and everyone can guess that you are off again on someexpedition. Here's good luck! If I can do anything for you in yourabsence don't fail to write, for you know that Charlie Evans will standby you."

  Joe Douglas nodded to the dozen subalterns seated about the table, andpuffed a cloud of tobacco smoke above their heads.

  "Come out for a moment, Charlie," he said. "Good-bye, you fellows, I'mjust off on a little trip. Keep things going till I come back again tothe mess."

  He was on his feet by now, and strode clanking out on to the roof of thefortress, followed by Major Evans. Then the two men walked to theparapet of the fortress and stood side by side looking out over thatgorgeous scene, neither of them venturing to speak for a few minutes. Atlength Joe Douglas turned to his companion.

  "Listen to this, Charlie," he said. "I'm off on something bigger thanI've had to tackle before, though I'm to cover much of the ground thatI'm used to. It's Mesopotamia again."

  "Ah! Mesopotamia--a nasty place, up North of the PersianGulf--heat--mosquitoes--Arabs," muttered Major Evans.

  "Not to mention Turks and Germans and ruffians," said his brotherofficer quietly; "but I'm used to them all, Charlie, and am not thinkingof myself. I'm thinking of Geoff. You know I've been his guardian eversince my old friend, his father, was lost in that Frontier expedition.He's joining the Mahrattas almost at once, and I badly wanted to keep aneye on him. You'll do that for me, eh?"

  "Willingly."

  "And will take charge of his father's papers?"

  "Everything."

  "Then good-bye."

  The two men gripped hands most cordially and firmly, and then MajorJoseph Douglas turned on his heel and strode from the roof of thefortress, just as quietly and unostentatiously as he had strolled intothe mess bungalow. This going away at a moment's notice was nothing newto him. An hour was sufficient in which to see that his servant hadpacked all his belongings. Half an hour later, in fact, saw him ridingdown the rough track which led from the mountain, and three days laterhe was in Bombay itself. The journey before him was something a littleout of the ordinary. There was war in the air. There was already talk ofa giant European conflagration, and of an outbreak of hostilitiesbetween Germany and Austria on the one hand, and France and Russia onthe other. We all know now that that war quickly drew into its toilsother combatants. That Great Britain came into the struggle to upholdher honour, and with the object of retrieving the downfall of Belgiumand of wrecking the power of the German Kaiser. Yet this tale has littleto do with the main theatre of that gigantic conflict. It deals with apart of the world hardly known in Europe, a part consisting of widewastes of sand and gravel, and peopled by Arab and Turk and Armenian andJew, not to mention Persians and peoples of other Asiatic races.

  What Major Joseph Douglas did not know of Mesopotamia and of the valleysof the Euphrates and of the Tigris may be said to have been hardly worthknowing. As a "political" he had made perhaps a dozen trips to thisout-of-the-way part of the world, and being by nature attracted by thedesert, and being vastly interested in the peoples living therein, thosetrips had become a source of huge enjoyment to him, so that return tohis regiment in India had, after a while, become a sort of penance. Hisheart leapt at the thought of a further trip, yet, when he had read thepapers, and when he had had an interview with the Governor at Bombay,even he--even light-hearted, cheerful, confident Joe Douglas--could notfail to see that danger, perhaps death, lay before him in those deserts.Yet he took ship for the Persian Gulf without hesitation, and, havinglanded at the township of Basra, disappeared entirely.

  The desert had swallowed him up, and thereafter, within a short while ofhis coming to this outlandish post, that Armageddon, that giganticconflict, which now tears Europe to shreds, and which has already seenso many of her people slaughtered, began along the frontiers of Franceand Belgium and of Russia, and, proceeding in violence as the monthswent by, slowly immersed the Balkans in its turmoil. Turkey, too, wasdragged into its trail, so that the venturesome Joe Douglas, the"political", sent on a secret mission from India, found himself in theheart of a country in the occupation of Britain's enemies. Indeed, whenthis gallant officer reached the neighbourhood of historic Bagdad, thoseelements of the city other than Turkish were in a turmoil. Soldiers wereelbowing their way through the bazaars, and the Turks alone, thosepeople the placidity of whom nothing can destroy, seemed to be the onlyinhabitants of the city who had not escaped from Bedlam. It was inBagdad, then, that Major Douglas found himself surrounded by enemies,and in danger of instant capture.