mostyn was the first to board the succouring craft. somewhat dubious as to the nature of his reception, he swarmed up the low side and gained the deck.
his arrival elicited no demonstrations, either of friendliness or hostility, from the white-robed arabs. they simply looked at him without visible signs of curiosity; without even the formal salaam.
there were five of the dhow's crew. four, who had been attending to the lowering of the sails, were standing amidships; the fifth, a mild-looking, bearded man of more than average height, was at the long, curved tiller. save for his swarthy skin he might have passed for a european, for his features were regular, his nose aquiline, and his lips red and without the fullness of the typical african. he wore the white "jebbah" and burnous, the only dash of colour being his red morocco slippers. in his white sash could be seen the leather-covered hilt of a long knife.
"english," explained peter. "wrecked—want passage."
the arab shook his head gravely, and motioned to mostyn to get the rest of the boat's party on board.
"mahmed!" sang out his master.
"sahib?"
"you speak swahili. tell this man who we are and what we want."
mahmed came over the side and approached the arab captain. apparently the former's attempt to speak swahili was far from fluent, but the desired result was obtained.
"he for dar-es-salaam, sahib," explained mahmed "he promise passage one hundred rupees a head."
"he'll get it," replied peter. "we'll give him one thousand rupees if he puts into pangawani."
the arab rejected the amendment. he was willing enough to give them a passage, but he was not going to put into an intermediate port even for the inducement of an addition three hundred rupees.
preston was the next to board the dhow. he managed it practically unaided, for his lower limbs were regaining strength, and he was able to use his left arm. the arabs showed considerable interest at his bandaged head, the captain going to the length of inquiring of mahmed how the injuries were caused.
mrs. shallop and olive followed.
the two lascars completed the transhipment. they brought with them the scanty personal belongings of the party, together with the water-beaker and the rest of the provisions.
"tell him we are ready to cast off," said peter.
mahmed translated. the arab skipper went to the side and cast envious looks at the boat, for from the deck of the dhow the damaged planking was not visible. with an instinct not confined to dhow-owners he was loth to abandon a craft that providence had figuratively thrust into his hands; but upon consideration he was compelled to admit that the gift was too unwieldy. nevertheless, since he was unable to make use of the boat, he was determined not to give others a chance of so doing.
at his order a couple of arabs, armed with knives and small-headed axes, jumped into the boat. after removing the compass, oars, masts, and remaining sails, and all other loose gear, they cut the gunwale through to the water-line, regaining their own craft as the water poured through the jagged rent. the painter was cut as close to the boat as it was possible for a man to reach from the dhow, and the west barbican's boat, her mission accomplished nobly in spite of difficulties, drifted slowly astern in a water-logged condition. then, the lateen sails rehoisted, the dhow resumed her course, hauling close to the wind on the starboard tack, her head pointing practically nor'-west-by-north. for the best part of an hour the survivors of the west barbican remained on deck, no attempt being made on the part of the arabs to offer them accommodation and shelter below. the captain had handed over the helm to one of the crew, and with the other three men was squatting on the deck. there was apparently no social distinction between the arab skipper and his crew. they were eating pilau from a common dish, and talking loudly, as if oblivious of the presence of the "kafirs" and the three moslem members of the rescued party.
at length peter thought it was time to assert himself on behalf of his companions. it was scant comfort to have to grill upon the deck of the dhow, for the sails provided little shelter from the fierce rays of the sun.
calling to mahmed to accompany him, mostyn made for the short ladder giving access to the steeply shelving poop.
seeing peter's intention the arab captain stood up and warned the intruder off, at the same time talking angrily to the indian interpreter.
"tell the accursed kafir not to set foot upon the ladder," was what he said, but translated by mahmed the message was, "the sahib is kindly asked not to approach while the crew are having a meal."
which was unfortunate. out of deference to arab customs peter complied with the request. the captain took it for a sign of weakness on the englishman's part. had mahmed translated literally, mostyn would have been on his guard. it would have been clear that the arab had not any intention of setting the party ashore at dar-es-salaam or at any other port where the british flag was flying, otherwise he would never have dared to insult a man who was quite capable of turning the tables on him on arrival at a place within the sphere of british influence.
mostyn waited more or less patiently until the pilau-eating party had broken up. then he again approached the arab skipper, who was now standing at the head of the poop ladder.
the arab avoided a reply to the direct request for shelter by demanding immediate payment of the seven hundred rupees.
"tell him," said peter, "that the money will be paid directly we arrive at dar-es-salaam."
a faint smile fluttered over the arab's olivine features.
"has the kafir the money with him?" he asked.
"that has nothing to do with the bargain," replied peter, through his interpreter. "he will be paid promptly and in full when he has carried out his part of the deal, but for that sum we must have suitable accommodation."
for a while the arab looked decidedly sulky. then, with another smile, he gave a perfunctory salaam and shouted an order to two of his crew.
the latter promptly disappeared under the poopdeck, where they spent some time shifting gear from one place to another.
when at length they reappeared, the captain led mostyn to a fairly spacious but low-roofed cabin on the port side of the dhow, and immediately abaft the poop bulkhead.
"that will do for the women," thought peter. "now for a place where we can sling our hammocks."
his request through mahmed for additional accommodation was curtly turned down on the score that it was impossible. already two of the arabs had been turned out of their quarters to make room for the kafirs.
"we won't kick up a shine over that," decided peter. "preston and i can have a shelter on deck. we have a right to make use of our own sails. i suppose the women will be safe down here? no lock on the door, but i can show olive how to jamb it with the blade of an oar. now there are the lascars to fix up."
that difficulty was quickly settled, the two lascars agreeing to the arab's suggestion that they should take possession of a small cuddy for'ard, access to which was gained by a small, square hatch just for'ard of the raking foremast. mahmed, at his own request, was to remain with his master and preston.
olive and mrs. shallop were duly shown the quarters assigned to them. the latter, for a wonder, raised no objection to the place. peter could not help thinking that perhaps her overbearing nature had been thoroughly cowed by the rebuff she had met with on re-embarking in the boat.
it was olive who took exception to the place.
"i think, if you don't mind," she said, "i'll get you to rig me up a shelter on deck. it's rather stuffy down there for two. you have no objection, i hope, mrs. shallop?"
"not in the least," replied the lady loftily. "it's nothing to do with me. you can please yourself."
"thank you," said the girl promptly.
peter concurred. although he was curious to know why olive should have objection to the cabin—it had been swept out—he refrained from asking why. he could only come to the conclusion that olive was reluctant to be in her late employer's company more than was actually necessary.
"it was stuffy down there," declared the girl. "no scuttle—i'd much prefer a canvas screen on deck."
the rest of the day passed uneventfully. about four in the afternoon land was seen broad on the starboard beam. what land it was peter had no idea. the arabs were silent upon the subject. preston could advance no suggestion beyond the theory that it might be cape st. mary, on the southernmost extremity of madagascar.
"if so, old man, we were all out of it," he added. "on the course we were steering we would have missed the whole island. strange things happen at sea."
at sunset the arab crew turned their faces towards mecca and prostrated themselves on the deck. in their acts of devotion they were joined by the lascars.
"black heathens!" snorted mrs. shallop contemptuously, laughing loudly.
it was the act of an uneducated fool. people of that type, both male and female, have done so before to-day, often with serious results to themselves and others.
"for heaven's sake shut up!" hissed preston apprehensively. "you may get a knife across your throat for this."
peter too felt far from comfortable when the arabs regained their feet. there could not have been the slightest doubt that they had heard the mocking laugh, and had there been trouble the lascars would have held aloof, or even have sided with their co-religionists. but, grave and inscrutable, the crew of the dhow carried on as if the unseemly interruption was beneath their notice.
"i think i'll keep watch to-night after this," said peter.
"p'raps 'twould be as well," agreed preston. "that woman is a perfect curse—i'm not much use, but i'll take a trick. if there's any sign of mischief i can give you a shout. got your automatic handy?"
"rather."
"pity you hadn't shown it, off-handed like," continued the acting chief. "a little moral persuasion of that description goes a long way with these gentry. i remember once getting into a jolly tight corner at port said. it was my own fault to a great extent, but i was only an irresponsible 'prentice in those days. i shifted a dozen low-down arabs with the stem of a pipe. they thought it was a six-shooter. it's as likely as not that our friend the skipper has spotted that bulge in your hip pocket."
"and taken it for a purse with a thousand rupees in it," added peter. "yes, i think i'll have to keep my weather eye lifting."
preston and the wireless officer had rigged up a canvas shelter amidships, spreading the covering ridge-wise on a gantline stretched between the mainmast and the for'ard end of the hatch. the hatch was a large one, measuring roughly thirty feet by ten, and was covered with canvas held down by bamboo battens. this, with the tent, took up the greater part of the deck space amidships.
farther aft, but on the centre line, a tent made from the boat's mizzen sail had been set up for olive's use. provided the weather remained fairly quiet it formed quite a sheltered and comfortable retreat.
the arab captain had raised no objections to the execution of this plan, although it had been carried out without his sanction. peter and mahmed had set up the shelters without any hesitation. the former was, indeed, prepared to assert his right to do so in consideration of the fact that he had not pressed his claim for more accommodation under the poop-deck.
it was late before mostyn turned in. for quite an hour he had stood on deck with olive, watching the moon sinking lower and lower in the heavens until it dipped beneath the horizon.
peter gave no hint to the girl of his misgivings, nor did olive refer to her reasons for refusing to share the cabin with mrs. shallop. after all, knowing the lady, he was not surprised at the cultured girl's reluctance to be in her company more than was absolutely necessary.
at about ten o'clock peter bade the girl good night. creeping in under the flap of his shelter he found preston fast asleep on one side of the deck-space and mahmed, equally somnolent, lying right across the entrance. he stirred as peter made his way over him, but instantly fell asleep again.
"fortunately i'm not sleepy," thought mostyn, as he settled himself upon his share of the rough bedding, which consisted of oilskin coats and a rafia mat.
on deck all was quiet, save for the occasional creaking of the blocks and the ripple of water at the dhow's bows. with the exception of the helmsman the arab crew had gone below before peter had retired to his shelter-tent. the lascars had also retired to their assigned quarters for'ard.
the night was calm and sultry. at twelve the solitary watch on deck was relieved; it apparently being the custom on board the dhow for the helmsmen to work three hour-tricks both by day and night.
peter heard the two men talking for a few minutes in a low tone; then the arab off duty went below, his slippers pattering softly on the deck.
another hour passed. nothing of an unusual nature happened. mostyn began to wonder whether his precautions had been in vain. he was feeling a bit sleepy by this time, but he had no desire to arouse his injured companion. he was content to take preston's word for the deed, but if he were to keep awake he simply must have some fresh air.
with this purpose in view peter crept cautiously across the sleeping mahmed, drew aside the flap of the tent, and gained the open air. it was now a fairly bright starlit night. the cool breeze thrummed tunefully through the scanty rigging, gently filling the huge, triangular, lateen sails. the foot of the mainsail was cut so low that from where mostyn stood, just abaft of the foremast, the shelving poop was hidden from view.
bareheaded and lightly-clad he grasped one of the weather-shrouds and drunk in great draughts of the ozone-laden air. he realized the relief of being no longer responsible for the safety of his charges, so far as seamanship and navigation were concerned. day after day, night after night in an open boat had considerably dimmed his ardour for exercising command.
after a while he wanted a cigarette, but remembered that he had left his share in the breast-pocket of his drill tunic.
"better be turning in again," he soliloquized, with visions of malaria in his mind. "it's rather a risky game hanging about here."
even as he turned to regain the shelter a shriek rent the air. less than ten feet from where he stood were a couple of arabs kneeling beside the collapsed tent. one was holding the canvas down with hands and feet, while the other, knife in hand, was raining furious blows upon the defenceless and sleeping men pinned beneath.
