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In the Mahdi's Grasp, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 13. Ben Eddin |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN. BEN EDDIN The Hakim was carefully prepared the next morning for his visit to his patients, Sam making the preparations, even to the extent of having a brass pot of boiling water for the razors. "Seems a pity, sir," he said, as the three gentlemen sat together in the tent, a turned-up case forming the barber's chair, upon which the doctor took his seat; "master's got such a fine, thick head of hair." "Operate, Sam, operate," said the doctor; and the next minute, comb in one hand, scissors in the other, the man was snipping away, and the doctor's crisp, dark hair fell rapidly over his shoulders and down about him upon the cloth that had been spread. Sam's cutting was clever enough, and a pretty good transformation was produced even with the scissors, while, when the razor had done its part, and the finishing touches had been given, the doctor passed his hands over his head and then drew them over his long beard. "Like a looking-glass?" said the professor drily. "No, thanks. I know my features pretty well," was the reply. "I shall not forget them." "But don't you want to see the Hakim?" "No," said the doctor quietly. "How many years older do I look, Frank?" he added quickly. "Twenty," was the prompt reply. "Quite," said the professor. "The clothes the Sheikh sent in, Sam," said the doctor, after giving a nod of satisfaction. "Now then, let me finish the work, so that you may see whether it will pass muster." "I'll keep you company," said the professor, and he followed his friend into the further tent, leaving Frank walking thoughtfully up and down, passing and repassing the doorway, till his attention was caught by the tall, stately figure of the Sheikh who was coming across from his own place. Frank hesitated a moment or two, and then he drew himself up and stood waiting with folded arms till the Sheikh reached the entrance, and said quietly-- "May I enter, O Excellency?" "Yes, come in," cried the doctor from the inner tent, and the old Arab bent a little as he came in, and then raised himself erect as he took a step or two into the half light of the shady place, and stopped short face to face with Frank, at whom for the first few moments he stood staring without the slightest sign of recognition in his countenance, while the youth resembled an ebony carving more than a living being. "Hah!" said the Sheikh at last. "It is very good, Excellency, very good. It would deceive me. I should not have known. But the dark stain? Will it come off?" Frank shook his head. "Not if you used water?" There was another shake of the head. "It is good--more than good," said the Sheikh. "I have come over to walk with the Hakim to see his sick people. Is he ready to go?" Frank shook his head, and raising a hand slowly pointed to his mouth. "Ah, I forgot that," said the old man, smiling gravely. "It is very good indeed; but can you keep this painful silence?" Frank bowed his head slowly, and pointed to the divan for the Sheikh to take his seat, the young man preserving his erect position of respect the while. "It is soon to begin, Excellency," said the Sheikh smiling, "but you must be Excellency no more till our work is done; only in my heart. What name will you bear?" "Frank!" cried the doctor from the inner tent, and the Sheikh smiled, but the young man shook his head violently. "Tell the Sheikh I shall be with him in a minute." "I am waiting patiently, Excellency," said the old man aloud. Then turning to Frank, "Suppose we say Ben Eddin?" Frank nodded and smiled. "Let it be so, then, Ben Eddin, my son, slave to the learned Hakim, with whom you have been so long that you understand his Frankish tongue. I have lain awake thinking many hours about the Hakim's other slave, and I feel that it would be wise that he should be his Frankish slave. There will be no mistake then. He can wear our burnoose and haik; they will be enough. It is quite right that he should have brought a servant from his own country. What say you, Ben Eddin?" Frank bowed his head gravely at once, and the Sheikh smiled his satisfaction, before springing up quickly, and forgetting his grave manner he clapped his hands together, applauding, and then bowing low to the grave and reverend Hakim who entered the tent slowly in flowing white garments and voluminous turban, in front of which was fastened a large, dark green scarab, a genuine treasure found by the professor in the tomb of a man who was supposed to have been physician to one of the Egyptian kings. It had been intended to form a brooch, and the doctor had had it set in gold. This he had taken from among his curios as being most suitable for the purpose in hand, and it took the Sheikh's attention at once. "Well, Ibrahim," said the doctor, slowly removing his turban as if to place it more comfortably, but holding it long enough for the Arab to see his closely shaven head; "do you think this will do?" "It is perfect, Excellency," said the old man warmly. "It far exceeds all I could have thought possible." "So say I," cried the professor, entering now in travel-stained Egyptian garments and muslin-covered fez. "Excellent, too, Excellency," said the Sheikh. "And now you will keep to this?" "Of course. The Hakim is ready now to go round and see his sick." The Sheikh bowed, and feeling a little nervous the party set off at once, leaving Sam watching them from the door. It was rather an ordeal, for they had not gone many paces towards the first tent they were to visit before they were seen, and word seemed to be passed quickly through the encampment, so that as they reached this first tent several of the Sheikh's people appeared, while when they came out of it again nearly everyone of those occupying the place had hurried forth to stand watching. But there was no look of wonder, no vestige of a smile, only respectful looks and bending down as the little party passed on. That first visit was a solemn one, for it was to the tent where they were met by the mother of the little child, who led them to where her little sufferer lay in its last sleep. She reverently pressed the Hakim's extended hand to her forehead, her tear-filled eyes and trembling lips seeming to say that she accepted patiently the blow which had fallen during the night, and that the Great Physician was very wise. Frank Frere felt more at his ease by the time the next tent was reached, and perfectly satisfied when all was done. For he had played his part of slave and assistant easily and well, holding water vessels, passing bandage and lint, and standing by the sufferers while the Hakim tended his patients with the greatest care. For there was no wondering gaze. It seemed quite natural and right to the sufferers, who were all doing well. The change in the dress of the Hakim and his friends was only what might have been expected now that their journey there was over, while Frank, the black slave, had the satisfaction of feeling that he was not even recognised by those he tended. He was the Hakim's dumb, black slave. The white assistant who had helped the doctor the previous day was not present--that was all. A couple of hours were taken up over the invalids, and they were left out of pain and comforted by the Hakim's gentle hand, while when their own tent was reached the Hakim was able to say that nothing could be better than the state of his patients. With a couple more days' attention they might be left to nature, and would soon be well. That afternoon Sam set aside his English clothes and blossomed forth into a showy-looking Arab, evidently feeling rather proud of his dress, the most conspicuous part of which was a scarlet scarf broadly spread around his waist, one which in an ordinary way would have been pretty well hidden by the loose outer cotton robe, but which the man took ample care should not have its brilliant tint eclipsed more than he could help. Naturally enough he sought the first opportunity he could find of getting Frank alone in the tent, and began at once in rather a conscious way. "Beg pardon, sir," he said. "I mean, Ben Eddin. May I say Ben for short?" There was a short nod, and the man continued-- "I say, sir--Ben. It's very awkward, but the professor says I'm to treat you as if you're my fellow servant. You won't like that?" There was a quick, eager nod. "Well, I sha'n't, Mr Ben. I can't help it, but it makes me feel ashamed like, and as if I'd lost all respect for my master's young friend." Frank held out his hand with a smile, and kept it extended till, in a slow, hesitating way and with a peculiar grimace, Sam took it, and felt it held in a firm, manly, friendly grip. "Oh, well, Mr Ben, if it's to be like that I can't help it; but please recollect that however disrespectful I seem through this business my 'eart's in its right place, and I think just the same of you as ever I did." There was a quick, eager nod and a smile, which made the man look more cheerful for a moment; but as he drew back his hand, he raised his white garment involuntarily and began to wipe the fingers, passing the white cotton over them two or three times before he realised what he was doing. "Oh," he exclaimed hastily, "what a hidiot I am! I beg your pardon, Mr Ben, I do indeed. It seemed to me as if your hand must have come off black. Eh?--Never mind; that's what you look as if you was saying.-- Thankye, sir. That's very good of you. Now you look as if you meant that I should soon get used to it.--Ah, you nod again.--Well, I'm blessed, sir, if I don't think it will begin to get easy after a bit of practice.--There's another of your nods. Thankye, sir. Yes, it will come right after all. I never thought anyone could get through so much business with a few nods and shakes of the head.--Beg pardon, sir.-- Hullo, that's a shake! I'm doing wrong. It takes a bit of time.--You nod. So it does, sir--I mean Mr Ben.--What's that wrong? Why, what have I said?--I know: it's the 'mister.' Thought so.--Ben, then, or Ben Eddin. I shall get it soon. Well, I don't want to be a nuisance, but it's very lonely for me, Ben, and if you wouldn't mind, as we are to be a bit together, I should like to come to you when I feel in a bit of a fix." Frank nodded and Sam's face lit-up with pleasure. "That's very nice of you, Ben Eddin," he said eagerly. "You see, I wanted to have a word or two with you about these things. I want to do it right and look proper." Frank nodded. "'Tain't vanity, mind, sir. I ain't a bit conceited, but I should like to feel that I look decent." There was a decisive nod. "Thankye, Ben Eddin. You see, they're so fresh to me. The bit o' scarlet looks right, don't it? Thankye Ben. You don't think it a bit too sojery, do you? No; you don't. Well, I'm glad o' that, for I felt as it took off a bit of the washer-womany, night-gowny idea. Then you think I shall do, Ben--Eddin?" Frank nodded approval. "Hah! Makes a man feel a deal better. For between ourselves, Ben Eddin, I got an idea in my head that everyone was a bit on the grin as soon as I came out, and if you could lay your 'and on your 'eart now and say to me with one of your straightforward looks without blinking your eyes that it was all my fancy I could go on as comfortable as could be, for they are out and out nice and cool." Frank gave his companion the asked-for steady look, and smilingly laid his hand upon his breast. "Thankye, Ben Eddin. You always were a pleasant gentleman that it was a treat to have staying at Wimpole Street. Wimpole Street!--Ha, ha, ha!" said Sam, laughing softly. "My word! how comic it does seem. What would they say in Wimpole Street if they could--" Sam stopped short, and a look of pain crossed his face. "Beg pardon, sir," he whispered. "Well, Ben Eddin," he said aloud. "Mr Landon said I was never to whisper, and I won't do it again. But I wanted to say I was sorry. It isn't comic, or queer, or anything. I know--I know it's all terrible real, and I'm going to try and help like a man through it all. I was a fool and a hidiot to speak as I did--and you'll forgive me, Ben Eddin? Thankye." For Frank's hand rested lightly on the man's shoulder, and for a few minutes there was silence in the tent. Then Sam's face brightened, and he said eagerly-- "I've had two goes on the camel, Ben, in these things, and somehow it seemed to me as if the grumbling beast took to me more in them. He went easier. I shall do it: I know I shall. I didn't feel half so much like pitching on to my nose as I did before. It's rum work, though, all the same." _ |
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