"You've said enough!" exclaimed the other with sudden hoarseness. His great chest laboured and his arms stiffened into hammers of bone and sinew, threatening immediate savagery. "Maybe too much! There's no man living as I'll let preach at me! I..." The other plucked his beard, his brows contracted to an evil frown. "Ay, that's true; you're no wencher. By God! if I thought she'd play me false, I'd no, the lass is true!" A hand fell away from the weapon in his belt as his faith reasserted itself. "I'd stake my soul on it! She's had chances-ay, plenty, if she thought to act dirty. A sight more'n that misbegotten piece as we took out o' the Dutchman, an' she showed her mind afore the week were out. I bear the marks of her knife yet! No; Jo'anna's happy she knows what's best What could she for her.. do ? " Sleive was frank. "I don't know. You'll not believe or see it, but it's all wrong! Think of it! A woman lovely in face and figure as she is, with a brain as keen, a mind as fine a woman with the will of a man to be content to live the life as she does, to face a future such as hers....' He broke off, and stared above him at the towering canvas. "I wish I knew what it all meant," he muttered. "You're mightily free with your praises for one as has no thoughts o' her!" Sleive's reply was an impatient gesture. "You are a fool, Peter Schenke! A bigger one than I supposed. If you are not careful, you'll lose your hold upon the crew. There are some who are not fools, and more that hate you! Sleive's eyes glinted. "I speak as a friend," he cut in sharply. "To hell with your prate of friendship! I'll have none o' it. An' you foul my course again, you dirty rat, I'll strip the hide off o' you with the lash, an' throw what's left to feed the fish!" For a long instant the two men glared into each other's eyes. Occasional bickerings had arisen between them during the period of their association, but this was the first time that either had ever allowed anything to endanger seriously a curious friendship. It was Sleive who averted a fight that before its end must have involved every one upon the black ship in a holocaust of slaughter. "I should have known," he said quietly. "Go your ways, Peter Schenke, and I'll go mine. I meant well enough, but I've had my say, and there's an end to it. I'll never interfere again." By slow degrees the captain's body relaxed its tension, and presently he shook his head as if in doubt. "Maybe he's in the right of it!" thrust out a huge hand, and an expression of disgust grew upon his features as he watched it tremble in spite of his efforts at control. 'Tis that new wine!" he he said under his breath. "I'd best take in a reef or two, by gum!" He threw an uncertain glance over his shoulder at the tall figure sauntering towards the stern, then set his foot upon the ladder. Like his mate, he was apparently blind to the doings of their crew upon the foredeck, where, defrauded of their chance of ill-treating one weaker than themselves, the men had seized upon the captured fish, and, tearing them apart, were pelting one another with the fragments. Its harmlessness denied by yells and a vile quality of laughter, it was an ugly game that only came to an end for the lack of ammunition; and one that was the cause of much loud cursing when the players found they had to clean the decks they fouled, under the eyes of a quartermaster still smarting from his captain's repri mand. (To be continued.) THROUGH THE LINES TO ABD-EL-KRIM'S STRONGHOLD IN THE RIFF. A JOURNEY RECENTLY UNDERTAKEN IN A LITTLE-KNOWN COUNTRY. BY GERALD SPENCER PRYSE. THE abandoned Spanish camp of Wad Lau is held by an askar of the Riffii army. It lies about three-quarters of a mile inland, on a low hill protected by machine-gun positions and wire entanglements. At our approach the garrison parades to present arms: a fervid piece of ceremonial, hardly calculated to melt the heart of a general officer accustomed to such compliments, though the unconcealed delight of the Nâyeb over a performance which has evidently been extensively rehearsed, and the cordiality of his subsequent invitation to breakfast, entirely disarm criticism. We, who are neither of us martinets, find the unwonted spectacle of arms being presented in any fashion by Riffi troops sufficiently gratifying. The broad smiles of the men are returned with interest, and the proffered hospitality of their commanding officer accepted without demur. Two hours later one is ready to undertake a tour of the hutted lines, where the rank and file live in cheerful defiance of bombs from the air. Leaving the commandant's quarters, the three of us saunter down IL rows of army huts, the Nâyeb in the middle; while on every side, at our approach, bearded askar come to the salute in what is intended to be the stiff European way. The majority appear to be cleaning their rifles, almost invariably of the Spanish Mauser type. At such odd moments as might be devoted by the private soldiers of another army to letterwriting, or the game of Crown and Anchor, these Riffi meritoriously occupy themselves with care of arms. Not only are rifles and bits of equipment as immaculate as they can be made; I suspect also that their owners would come through a kit inspection with credit. But at this point comparison must cease, for when it is a question of the interior economy of their lines, these bold warriors are totally deficient. Such zeal as is occasionally displayed by a British commanding officer for turning out his men at uncomfortable times to sweep a parade-ground clear of litter, or pick up trifles like waste-paper among the huts, can find no echo in the Nâyeb's breast. Disorder is supreme, even dead mules re The troops display immense interest in the shell-proof dugouts they have taken over with the camp. Assisted by a few volunteers from the French Colonial Army, possessing experience in European methods of warfare, they have learned to construct for themselves very creditable underground shelters, and even to equip them with wet blankets for use during bombardment with asphyxiating gas. maining where they died-a of gun-fire is fairly continuous curious circumstance among a to the west. Everywhere race so conscious of the deli- strings of women and children cate pleasure to be derived are to be seen returning with from the sense of smell. their possessions to villages from which they had been driven, generally to find homesteads burnt out by the retreating enemy, and lands empty and arid. These people are full of bitterness, and it is our occasional misfortune, during this short ride, to be taken for hostages or prisoners of war. At one stage in particular the air resounds with the imprecations of a fury to whom all Nazerani are alike abominable, while most cautiously young women and girls pull handkerchiefs up over the lower part of their faces, as protection against the evil eye. They stand by the wayside savage and staring, their garments bundled tight about them, legs and shoulders bare. Each woman supports either a basket or sackful of household possessions on the rolled girdle resting above her hips; frequently, also, she carries a baby on her back. In silent amazement they stand, while the fury outpours her torrent of abuse. Presently, mules having been brought round, it is time to say good-bye. So there is more saluting and clicking of rifles; while at the instant of departure a bugler, who has put in an appearance to the unmitigated delight of everybody present, proceeds to blow a reveille, or a general alarm, or something between. In any case, the compliment is a pretty one, as our ideas of international courtesies go, and provides a fitting conclusion to a memorable visit. The last notes are still re-echoing from high mountains as the cavalcade descends by zigzag paths into the valley of Wad Lau. For a mile or more the track meanders between what may once have been patches of barley and orange-groves, but are now no more than bare earth and broken wood. Only a few days have passed since the evacuation, and the rumble Many of these women are beautiful, and there is quaint grace in their carriage as they proceed with short quick steps, pliant only from the waist downwards, while the body is stiffly bent to counterbalance the invariable burden. Family parties that have found shelter in less accessible villages during the occupation are making haste to get their houses in order, and the earth tilled and planted, before the rains are upon them. They will make daily journey to and fro over the mountains until the homestead is rebuilt, and all the possessions reassembled. Occasionally an old man may be encountered, but it is evident that the greater part of the male population from this district is in the fighting line. Fresh hospitality is forthcoming at a Spanish-built villa higher up the valley, now occupied as a headquarters and liaison with the Beni Said. In the entrance-hall a telephone operator is passing information and orders to advance positions beyond the range of mountains, where the harkas look down on Zargeia and Tetuan. Round the tea-tray in a corner of the long bullet-scarred salon on the first floor a turbaned staff is considering progress reports. We are heartily welcome, and the situation is made clear with the assistance of a map spread on the carpet-that is, so far as situations are ever clear in this astonishing country. To the conventional way of thinking it would surely be desirable, after a general advance, to surround and mop up such isolated strong points as remain in enemy hands. Not so does the case strike our hosts. These places will need frequent rationing, and in return for the privilege of passing in supplies, revenue may be extracted from the enemy, who will also pay a substantial sum VOL. CCXVIII.-NO. MCCCXXI. in the end for the privilege of evacuating his stronghold with what are regarded as military honours. Surely such an arrangement is advantageous in every way, since money is the sinews of war? Our hosts are smiling discreetly as they contemplate the ragged line on the map, with its salients and deep reentrants. They are toying with the paper edge with their toes, and sucking at little tumblers of tea. Orderlies come and go with a minimum of formality, though each newcomer scrupulously slips off his sbabeet in the entrance, where a variety of footgear is extended in a picturesque line. A travel-stained runner appears with a letter, tossing it into the lap of a very senior officer, as though he were dealing with a supernumerary lancecorporal. The sentry doing duty at the door lays down his rifle to accept the pipe of kieff from this same officer, and returns it to its owner after three or four whiffs. The two askar who have been attached to us as personal bodyguard since our departure from Beni Boufra are more at ease now that they find themselves among fellow-soldiers. At sea the two of them had been sadly put to it to maintain a suitable aloofness, neither being good sailors. The navy does not rank as senior service here, and it has needed sustained effort on their part to keep the over-familiar crew of the flooka in their proper place. Scorn, 2 B2 |