Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The Turks Part 71

Some remorse was awakened, even in his iron heart.

He had intended to take a life, but not hers, and now indeed the Pearl of the Isles was lost to him for evermore.

"'Tis you now, pasha, who have committed crime," said the lieutenant, "and for this I call you to account. Surrender to answer for this deed."

"Surrender to Christian dogs! Never," answered the fierce Ibrahim.

"Then, men, fire upon these Turks," said the officer.

The rifles of the sailors were accordingly brought to cover upon the pasha's force.

Ibrahim immediately recognised a fresh and imminent danger, and resolved on a retreat.

Turning his horse, he gave the signal to his followers, and the whole body marched off rapidly, pursued by the fire of the English.

During this parley, Kara-al-Zariel and his Arabs had taken advantage of the preoccupation of their foes, to withdraw to the range of rugged rocks near the sh.o.r.e, which would at once shelter them from the attacks of the Turks and give them the advantage of being near their English allies in the ship.

But the pasha, now that the main objects of his expedition had escaped him, did not make any further attempts to pursue the Bedouins.

He and the remnant of his forces made the best of their way across the desert to the town.

And now all attention was drawn towards Thyra.

All perceived, with the deepest regret, that her hours were numbered.

She had been that day in the thick of more than one deadly conflict.

Hundreds of bullets had pa.s.sed her, but this one, aimed at another, had only too successfully performed an errand of death.

Terrible indeed was the grief of Jack Harkaway.

"Oh, Thyra," he exclaimed, "my brave, dear girl, he has killed you."

"I know it," she replied, with a mournful resignation, "but thank Heaven you, dear Jack, are saved."

"I have not deserved this devotion from you," said Jack, in broken accents, while the tears fell from his eyes, "but you must not--shall not die thus. Can nothing be done for her?" he asked, looking round at the others.

"I fear not," replied the lieutenant, "but she must at once be taken on board, and placed under the care of the surgeon."

Thyra had been lifted up and her wound staunched with her scarf.

"Here, Harry," said our hero, rousing himself from his grief, "help me to carry her to the boat."

But ere his friend could fulfil his request, a tall, wild form interposed between them, a brown, sinewy hand convulsively clutched Jack's arm to draw him away.

"No hand but mine," cried a voice broken by intense grief, "shall bear the Pearl of the Isles to yonder boat."

It was the Arab chief, Al-Zariel, his face haggard with grief, his dark eyes gazing mournfully at the pale but beautiful face of her he loved.

He raised her tenderly, this wild warrior of the desert--tenderly as a child, and disdained all aid, and bore her in his strong arms to the boat.

The others drew back; no one at that moment had the heart to say him nay.

Even the rough sailors, and the still rougher Arabs, were touched by the mournful scene before them.

It was indeed a solemn procession to the boats, almost a funeral _cortege_, for they bore one, who, though not yet dead, would never see another day's sun arise.

Kara-al-Zariel gently deposited the dying girl in the boat.

"I have known her but a day," murmured the Arab chief, "and during that day she has shone upon my path like a gleam of sunshine from the gates of Paradise. From the first instant I saw her I loved her as I have loved no other, and as I shall love no other to my life's end."

He stooped and imprinted a pa.s.sionate kiss upon that marble brow, pressing as he did so the lifeless hand, gazing into the fast-fixing eyes, and murmuring "Farewell" in his native tongue.

She understood him, and with a smile of grat.i.tude, answered him in the same language.

The boat put off.

Kara-al-Zariel, standing on the sands, watched it for some moments, and then, as if unable longer to bear the sight, turned away, knelt upon the beach, and covered his eyes with his hands.

It was not grief alone that made him kneel beneath the open vault of Heaven.

In that terrible moment he registered to Heaven a vow of vengeance against the pasha who had slain the Pearl of the Isles.

The st.u.r.dy tars bent to their oars, and the boat left the murmuring waters of the sunlit Mediterranean.

Arriving on the ship, Thyra was placed with all care and tenderness upon deck.

The doctor examined the wound, and shook his head gravely.

"I can do nothing here!" he said, in subdued tones.

None answered him; only they saw too plainly that his words were final.

Poor Jack Harkaway! If ever in his young life he had felt grief, it was now, when he saw one who had so hopelessly loved him, dying through that very love.

"I am not afraid to die," said Thyra, in her low, faint voice, "and to die in this way is the best of all; for my future life might have made both you and myself unhappy."

"Unhappy! How could that be, Thyra?" asked Jack, as he knelt beside her, his hand clasped in hers, her dying eyes looking upwards into his face.

"Because your love is given to another," she sighed, "and, therefore, mine is hopeless; but oh, may that other--whoever she may be--be now and ever happy in your love."

"You have died for my sake!" he said, "and can you think I can feel any thing but the deepest grat.i.tude, the most tender feelings, towards you?

No, dear Thyra, I love you now, if I have not before."

"To hear that from your lips," she murmured, "is to die happy. All I ask now, is that you will always remember the little Greek girl who loved you, and--and who was unhappy in her life, and happy in her death."

"Remember you!" said Jack, "remember you, my n.o.ble Thyra! after what you have done? Always! always! Do not pain me by fearing that I may forget you."