But a few recalcitrant baits still lived the old wild life, every now and again leaving their remote ishans in the marshes on expeditions of theft and robbery-partly, I think, for the mere excitement of the thing, partly because they still doubted our power to punish the offenders, or feared perhaps that our invitation to settle nearer the river was a trap to bring them within reach of Government. On the latest of these occasions, one of the raiding party had been wounded and captured, and sent to me as the nearest Political Officer, to be dealt with as I saw fit. He was a small boy of perhaps twelve, though like most Arabs he had no notion how old he was, and suggested thirty as a suitable age when I questioned him. Evidently he had been allowed to accompany his elders, as a sort of initiation into the tribal art of raiding, and it seemed absurd for me to sentence such a mere child to imprisonment, especially as his wounded thigh would mean, in any case, a long spell of hospital-to a marsh Arab as bad as, if not worse than, prison. Still, I was unwilling to hand him back unconditionally to his tribe, and make no use of the chance which had delivered him into my hands. Eventually I decided to sell the boy to his family for a price-the price to be a solemn oath, "by the Flag of Abbas," on the part of the headmen, that the tribe would steal no more from Government. Mes sengers went out into the marsh with the terms, and the headmen agreed; but only after some hesitation, for I was asking them to take the most binding of all oaths. 66 Abbas, the loved friend of Ali, he whose "voice of brass turned the armies of the Prophet from flight in the Pass of Honein, is known among the tribes as Abu Ras al Harr," the father of the hot head, and he is famed for the swiftness of his vengeance, living or dead. Thus an oath sworn by Abbas is one which the marsh Arab fears to break, lest some dire calamity should fall speedily on himself or on his family. I was particularly busy just at this time, and did not want to spend a whole day over a mashhuf journey some eighteen or nineteen miles into the marshes. The headmen, on their side, would not come in to the river-bank, fearing a trap. We reached a compromise by arranging to meet at Zichah, some five miles into the marsh, and they promised that if I gave them "hadha wa bukht," my word of honour, that he should be in no danger, one of their headmen would come to the river to guide me to the rendezvous. Accordingly, on a bitterly cold January morning, I went down by river as far as Kafairah, where I found waiting in the reeds a mashhuf manned by three strapping marshmen. As they came alongside, a huddled old figure in the middle straightened itself and rose to I agreed heartily to this proposition. "Many a time have I told them," he went on, ' of the greatness and power of the British Government, and foretold the punishment which would surely come, but they would not listen to my words." greet me; the Bait Naggar ment for bringing you out into had kept their word and sent the marshes on so inclement a in a headman to act as guide. day." He seemed a colourless, rather stupid old fellow, and disinclined for conversation, for which I was not sorry; for as the two mashhufs went on side by side, all our remarks had to be shouted in the teeth of a tearing north-east wind. Mesopotamian hot weathers seem to leave one's blood rather thin, and I shivered in my British Warm before the cutting wind. The marshmen, clad only in their thin bishts, seemed to heed the cold as little as they had heeded the scorching sun of a few months back. One of them, Hassan by name, was a particularly hardy vigorous specimen of Arab humanity, with a frank expression and engaging smile which were all the more striking by contrast with the dour old head man. In the narrow channels of the marshes, all the efforts of the mashhufchis had not been able to prevent our being continually blown into the reeds. Now we came out into a wide stretch of water, whipped by the wind into waves which smacked up against the side of the mashhuf, and every now and again sprayed us with a douche of icy water. The headman's boat came up alongside mine, and Hassan seized the opportunity to strike up a conversation. "Hakim," he said, "these tribes deserve a severe punish I expressed sympathy with this Cassandra-like figure, and he was encouraged to continue in the same strain. "These madmen, who persist in stealing and robbing, when they might settle down to a peaceful life under the protection of the great Hakuma, resemble their own buffaloes among which they live-they are without understanding." At this point the marshmen's mashhuf went ahead, to guide us into a channel almost hidden in the reeds, and I held no more converse with the godly Hassan. Another half-hour's poling brought us to Zichah, where the Bait Naggar were assembled in readiness. I exchanged greetings with the headmen, who led me to the largest hut on the ishan, in which presumably the ceremony of the oath was to take place. Coffee was brought, and one by one the other members of the bait drifted in, gave the usual salutations, and sat down. When all were assembled, Khasib, the chief headman, addressed the meeting as he squatted beside me. He was a shifty-eyed fellow, but quick of brain and fluent of speech; in a rapid guttural flow of words he explained to the gathering the purpose of my coming: they were to swear by the Flag of Abbas that they would steal no more, and in return the boy Musa would be handed back to the tribe. This he repeated impressively several times, so that the dullest marshman should not fail to understand. Then he got up, cleared a space in the middle of the hut, and shouted for a gasba." From the long reed that was hastily brought in, he broke off a piece a few feet long, and laying it on the ground said solemnly 66 This is the Sword of Abbas, of Abu Ras al Harr." He then looked round the assembly, and seeing a tribesman wearing a loose garment of white stuff," Obaid bin Machaifad," he said, "bring me your disdasha." The man obeyed, and laid the garment down beside the reed. "This," announced Khasib, "is the Flag of Allah, of Mohammad his Prophet, and of Ali, and its avenger is Abbas. This flag is on me, on my eyes, and on my life, on my brothers and on my kindred. Nothing is concealed or hidden, and its avenger is Abbas." With these words he tied a corner of the disdasha round the reed. In turn the other three headmen came, and tied a knot, each solemnly reciting the formula, "I tie this flag on me, on my brothers and on my uncles." The ceremony should now have been complete, for the headmen were swearing on behalf of the whole bait. But they did not feel at all comfortable. If the delights of thieving proved too much for the bolder spirits of the tribe, Abbas would avenge himself, not only on the guilty persons, but on the men who had taken the oath. Their position would be safer, they thought, if all the known thieves were made to tie the flag on their own behalf. Names were shouted accordingly, and one by one the villains of the piece came forward, glancing rather uncomfortably in my direction. Outside I heard a stir, and raised voices. One of the thieves refused to come into the hut. A chorus of shouts and yells showed that the crowd was anxious he should change his mind, but he was adamant. As I could not distinguish a word amid all this hubbub, I asked an old Arab sitting next to me why the man would not swear. "He has an only son," he said. "He fears the vengeance of Abbas." I called in the unwilling one, and told him that he had nothing to fear from Abbas, if he did but refrain from stealing. This prospect appeared to find very little favour in his eyes, but at length he gave way. The shouting continued, for there still remained one or two notorious thieves, without whose personal oath the tribe I should hesitate to tell it, did not feel safe. Finally a for it savours somewhat of little group came in to swear the motor - bus accident artogether; foremost amongst ranged by a worried author in them was Hassan, my pious his last chapter for the dismashhufchi of the morning. posal of a few surplus charAfter giving the customary acters. But as it is perfectly 66 chiswa "1 to the owner of true, I relate it here. the hut in which the Flag of Abbas had been tied, I left for my long cold journey back to the river, hoping that one more bait had been enticed out of its evil ways. But my hope was a vain one. Whether in a spirit of bravado, or whether, more likely, they had persuaded themselves that an oath forced on them by a About a fortnight after my visit to the marshes, the Bait Naggar, whose "atwa "2 with the Bait Yassin had just expired, decided to attack their ancient enemies, and pay off a few old scores. But the Bait Yassin had been forewarned, and, taking a lesson from our troops, had dug in, with the result that the attacking party received the shock of their lives. They lost over a dozen killed, and among them, all four of the headmen who had tied the Flag. Abbas, Father of the Hot Head, had taken his revenge. 2 Truce. WHEN Honiton, in the hotel in Cairo, made his appeal to his captor for secrecy, he had no more in his mind than that he should be spared the ignominy of exposure before friends whom his happy temperament had made for him. He had met Jocelyn Upton, had liked her immensely, but had been quite resigned to her loss when he heard that she was returning to England. Had he guessed how completely she would occupy his mind and heart after a week at sea spent almost entirely in her society, he would have been even more anxious to avoid sailing by the Bedouin. Her obvious liking for him, her openly expressed pleasure at the discovery of his presence aboard, her artless acceptance of her own judgment of his character as conclusive - all coming at a time when he had much cause for despondence bore him inevitably towards the rapids over which he was fated to pass. He never had a chance. Nature stepped in and took all control out of his hands. Thrown into her company as he was continually, he would have been more than human had he not loved her. Jocelyn, on her part, was an even more easy prey. She was essentially a modern girl, accustomed to the study and analysis of her own feelings and emotions, and she, more quickly than Honiton, realised the direction in which she was drifting. She did not struggle, for she had no reason to anticipate anything but happiness from the love that was springing up so rapidly in her heart. She had formed her own opinion of Honiton when first she met him, and had no misgivings, although his past remained absolutely unknown to her. She possessed that supreme confidence in her own judgment which is one of the main attributes and pitfalls of youth. Honiton struggled feebly when at last he realised the girl's growing influence over him, but it was already too late. He quickly gave up the unequal struggle, content to let things drift, to turn his back on the future and drink in what happiness he could in the little time that was his. In his blind selfishness he refused to contemplate the effect of his action on Jocelyn's future, or, to do him more justice, so Copyrighted in the United States of America. |