VAGABOND VOYAGE

Wairarapa Times-Age, 3 June 1938, Page 10

VAGABOND VOYAGE

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

COPYRIGHT

BY

ALROY WEST

(Author of “Stratosphere Express”)

CHAPTER IX. Until sundown Peter Drew followed the Arabs. The route which they took led slightly inland along a valley which was comparatively rocky, although in many places it had been invaded by the said. They were travelling southwards, so that every step he took increased the distance between him and the Russian steamer Apart from the danger of being detected by the Arabs there was the risk of encountering Wicks and a search party. If Wicks blundered into the Arabs it would mean a massacre and would probably result in the Arabs keeping a closer watch. On the other hand, if it became possible to warn the captain, it was practically certain that he would refuse to help the girl who was being taken into captivity. Peter was determined to rescue her if it was at all possible.

Grimly determined, he plodded along in the wake of the small party, keeping as near to the boulders as possible in case one of the Arabs should climb a mound in order to look for possible pursuit. They were always two or three bends ahead of him, and it was not until they came to a halt at sundown that he was able to draw close to them. From a place of concealment he watched them light a fire and erect three tents. One of them, exceedingly small, he felt certain was for the girl. He was correct in his assumption, for just as it was getting dark he saw two of the Arabs hustle her towards it.' The light from the fire was sufficiently good for him to see them fling her inside and pull down the flap. One of the Arabs, rifle in hand, began to pace backwards and forwards. The wretched blacks were on the far side of the fire, huddled together in order to keep warm. Already the sand near to Peter was losing its warmth. One by one the Arabs settled down to sleep, leaving the guard to his lonely watch.

Peter made himself as comfortable as possible and took a much needed rest. He had something to eat, and took another sip or so of water. Then, considerably refreshel, he took stock of the situation.

If the girl was to be rescued it was obvious that the rescue would have to take place before dawn ; After that there would be no chance whatever. In order to rescue her he would have to overpower the guard. He decided that the best plan was to wait until the present one awakened one of his companions. A man awakened from a short sleep was often still drowsy and might be tempted to rest for a little longer. As a preliminary Peter started to crawl nearer to the encampment. He had no weapon apart from his knife, but he had this ready so as to make good use of it should the occasion demand prompt action. Hours seemed to pass before the sentry threw some more wood on the fire, aroused one of his companions and settled down to sleep. The man who relieved him was obviously tired. He stayed by the fire for a time and then walked slowly towards the small tent and listened carefully. Evidently satisfied that the girl was asleep he went back to the fire. Thoroughly warmed, he moved away and squatted down by a boulder, against which he leaned. Peter gave a grim smile. Things were going well. He crept forward, an inch at a time. His main worry was that the beating of his heart would be heard by the Arab. As the minutes went past he edged nearer and nearer to the boulder.

At last, holding his breath, he came to it and raised himself. The Arab was asleep, with his rifle placed on the ground beside him. For a moment Drew hesitated. Then he dropped on the man, getting a hand over his mouth in order to prevent an outcry. The Arab, roused violently from sleep, was confused and not quite as quick as he might have been. Peter wrenched a knife from him, having dropped his own as useless. A quick stab and the struggle was over. The Arab crumpled up. Peter made sure that the man was dead, and then removed his hand from the mouth. He dragged the body aside, stripped it of its burnouse, and donned it himself. He also removed a belt of cartridges and took up the rifle. After waiting for a few seconds in order to make sure that the alarm had not been given, he moved towards the fire.

After waiting for a few seconds in order to make sure that the alarm had not been given, he moved towards the fire. When thinking out his plans he had contemplated freeing the blacks, but on reflection he dismissed this scheme. He would not be able to make them understand him, and the noise they would make would only arouse the other Arabs.

For a moment he wailed by the fire and then moved across to the small tent. He went round to the side which was in the shadow, and then hesitated for a second. He didn’t know how on earth to release the girl without scaring her. He decided that the best thing to do was to speak first. He placed his head near to the canvas and spoke softly. “Don’t be frightened,” he said. “It’s a friend.’ It occurred to him that this was foolish. Very probably the girl was not English. Anyway, if not, there was just a chance that she might know a few words of English, or realize that it was not an Arab speaking. To his delight a soft voice replied in the same tongue. "You'll have to cut your way in. I'm fastened up.” Instantly he cut a gash in the side of the tent and entered it. It was dark inside, but he could just make out the blacker shadow of her figure.

“My hands and legs are tied,” she whispered. He moved across to her and freed her. “Have you had any food?” he asked. “No. They wouldn’t even give me water.” He passed her the flask. “Better have it before we get clear.” he said. She took a quick drink and returned it to him. “There isn’t time for food,” she said calmly. “I’ll have it later.” “Very well. Come along.” He helped her to get up. She spent a few seconds rubbing her legs. “I’m ready,” she announced. They slipped through the gap in the tent and stood upon the sand together. “We’ll head for the dunes,” Peter said in little more than a whisper. She nodded'her head and they moved across. Peter kept the rifle ready for instant use. He noticed that one of the Arabs moved uneasily and promptly covered him. The girl touched his arm. “Don’t shoot if you can help it,” she warned. “There are others.” He lowered the weapon and they hurried on to the rocky valley. “Where are the others you mentioned?” Peter wanted to know. “Further north. They looted the “Tovarish Rykoff,” which ran aground. They were camping near to her. This party started earlier, because they were anxious to get me away from the coast as quickly as possible.” Peter’s heart sank. “That’s the steamer that’s aground, isn’t it?” he asked. “Yes! I’m her captain—Alla Barlova. We had trouble in the recent gale. The steering went, and there was a mishap in the engine room. “We’ll have to make for the ‘Lucky Lady’ then,” Peter said thoughtfully. They hurried on into the night. It was overcast, and he frequently had to strike a match in order to consult his compass. “I’m afraid our troubles are by no means over,” he said gloomily as they had a short rest after walking for about two hours.

“They’re not. The Arabs will be after us soon. We should have obtained another gun. One between the two of us is not good enough. Are you a good shot?” “I’ve never had much practice,” Peter confessed. . “Then you’d better let me do the shooting—if there is any,” Alla said calmly. “I was taught how to shoot.” “It seems strange to think that you were the captain of a ship,” said Peter irrelevantly. “Why shouldn’t I be? I wanted to go to sea. My father was a seaman. He was English. Only my mother was Russian. My father spent nearly all his life in Russia and changed his name. It used to be Barlow. I went to the Vladivostock Technical School. It’s a naval school, you know. I graduated there and then served at mate on a small tramp steamer. After that I had a ship of my own, and then I was moved to the “Tovarish Rykoff.” She was larger, but not so seaworthy. I should like to make trouble about her condition when I get back.” Peter gave a wry smile. “Not much chance of getting back,” he said gloomily. “But are we not going to this ship you mentioned the ‘Lucky Lady’? Surely that was what you said?” “I did. She’s called the ‘Valdivia’ now. She’s a trawler with slightly better cabin accommodation than most. And she’s bound for either Central or South America.” Alla showed her teeth in a flashing smile. “That would be an interesting adventure,” she remarked. “I’d like to see America.” “Not much hope of getting there,” Peter said. “Come on —it’s time we moved again. I’ll tell you more as we go along.” “Very good. That will make the journey easier. You must help me up —l’m terribly stiff.” He laughed as he gave her a hand. “I though that girls who captained ships were very self-sufficient,” he told her. She shook her head. “I'm not a captain now —I’m a slave. The Arab purchased me. I don’t think he was going to keep me. I had an idea that he wished to sell me to somebody else. I’m so grateful for what you did that I’m not able to thank you yet. One of these days I will.” Peter felt uncomfortable.

“There's no need to thank me,” he said. “I saw that the Arabs had a European girl as a prisoner—and I was determined to do something about it. What else could I do but follow and have a shot at releasing you?” She placed a hand on his arm. “You’re very chivalrous and oldfashioned, aren’t you?” she asked. “All the same, I wish there were more like you. No, I don't. There couldn’t be anybody else quite like you. But I should like you better if you threw away that wretched blanket stuff. I don’t like being reminded of Arabs. They killed every member of my crew. I intended to save the last shot for myself, but I miscounted, and there was just a click and nothing else. Peter removed the burnouse and flung it down. “I should have taken it off before,” he said, “only I forgot all about it.” “You were going to tell me of your adventure in the ‘Lucky Lady,” and what your captain intends to do,” she reminded him. Peter told her what had taken place. When he had finished she laughed softly. “Why do you laugh?” he asked. "It is going to be interesting. Your Captain Wicks and Engineer Gallop will have a falling-out. And the crew will be divided. So it should be easy

for us to take control. Anyway, I shall help you—so that is settled, eh? You have saved me, and now it is my turn to help you save yourself. That seems very satisfactory.” Petci- forgot about the “Lucky Lady." “You’ve a most delightful accent,” he said. “I wish it would soon be daylight." “Why?” “So that I can have a look at you.”

She laughed softly. “Perhaps you have made a great mistake in rescuing me —eh? I may be very ugly and be a nuisance by falling in love with you when you do not want an ugly wife. Have you some matches?” “Yes.” “Don’t they strike?” Peter gave a gay laugh. “All right,” he said. “You hold my gun for me.” “No. You must put it down. I should not look at my best holding a gun.” He struck the match and held it so that he could see her face. The light flickered and went out, but not before he had had a glimpse of dark hair, a rather wide forehead and two dark eyes under slightly arched brows. He put the matches away. Alla gave her soft laugh. “You cannot stand another glimpse?” she inquired. “I’m afraid not,” said Peter unsteadily. For a second he looked at her and then caught her in his arms. He pressed her close to him and kissed her firmly on her lips. He released her quickly. “You can fall in love with me if you want to,” he said in a voice which was not quite level. Then, stooping to pick up the rifle, he trudged onwards. She walked at his side and as he glanced at her he saw that her lips were slightly parted in a half smile.

Towards morning Alla flung herself down in the sand. “It’s no good!” she cried. “I can’t go any further. I’m absolutely done in.” Peter felt exhausted also and he. was glad to settle down near to her.” “It’s beastly cold for sitting about,” he complained. “It is I’m sorry I asked you to throw that blanket thing away. We might have used it to cover ourselves over. Still, it wasn’t very nice, and it was filthy dirty. I think it belonged to the Arab who walked beside me. He jerked every bone in my body every time I slipped.” “I’m gfad I stuck a knife into him,” Peter declared, slightly puzzled to discover that he had practically 'forgotten the incident. “So am I,” Alla said vindictively. Abruptly she changed the subject. “How many miles do you think we are from the ship?” Peter frowned. He was feeling decidedly uneasy. According to his reckoning, they should have come to the inlet by this time. They were near the sea, but when he had last climbed to the top of one of dunes, there had been no sign of the trawler’s lights “We should come to it any time,” he said thoughtfully. “I can’t be certain because my calculations were of a very rough and ready nature. It’s not easy when one is dodging about in a wilderness of sand dunes.” “I understand that,” the girl agreed. “Do you think they’ve started to pursue us yet?” “I haven’t heard any strange sounds. Have you noticed how deathly still everything is on the fringe of the desert? I suppose it’s worse still further inland.” “I’ve noticed it. That’s why I think it’s so wonderful to be able to hear the surf.” For a time they rested, and then the girl stood up. “Do you mind moving off again?” she asked. “I feel too cold to stay here any longer.” “We might as well keep moving. I expect it will be dawn soon.” They made their way onwards. The dunes became less frequent, and they were soon wading through loose sand. The only thing to encourage them was the sound of the waves on their right. “If we are surrounded we can take to the water and drown,” said the girl in a moment of gloom. “Yes, I think it would be a far nicer end than to be captured.” “You musn’t let yourself be captured,” the girl said with a shudder. “They captured one of my crew. It was ghastly! I’m trying to forget about it.” “The best way to forget is to keep looking for the lights of the trawler,” Peter advised. “I’m certain we must be getting near to her.” “I’m afraid we’ve made very slow progress,” Alla pointed out. As dawn was breaking they were startled by the sound of firing ahead of them. They exchanged glances. “What can that be?” the girl demanded. Peter shook his head. $ “I don’t know. Obviously there are Arabs about. But there must be somebody else also. They’re either having a scrap with Wicks, or with some of the Spanish Legion.” “The former I should think. The Spanish don’t seem to be policing this part at all nowadays.” (To Be Continued)