azeh. But the engine would not start. Blood-
curdling threats were hurled at the unhappy Ahmed. Some e of the
men got into the water and began to shove off, as if the engine
could be encouraged by collaboration.

I was just as keen to escape as any one. I could not imagine a
Sikh or subaltern stupid enough to believe me innocent. It was a
military government. Soldiers have a drum-head method of leaving
nothing to discuss except where the corpse is to be buried.

I forced my way aft--got some gasoline out of the tank into a tin
cup--thrust aside Ahmed and two other men--and primed the engine
liberally. The engine coughed next time they moved the wheel,
and in thirty seconds more we had it going. Ahmed came in for a
volley of mockery for having to be shown the way to start his
engine; but from the sour way he looked at me I was nearly sure
he had stalled deliberately.

We backed away from shore, and Anazeh steered the boat's nose
eastward. Then somebody at the reversing lever threw it forward
too suddenly, and the still chilled engine stopped. It took
about another minute to restart it. We were just beginning to
gain speed when some one shouted. All eyes turned toward the
shore, the overloaded boat rocking dangerously as the crowd bent
their bodies all in one direction together.

Down near the shore-line an electric torch flashed on the
uniforms of half-a-dozen Sikhs, and we could hear an unmistakably
British voice shouting an order.

We were out in the moonlight now, a perfect target. Bullets
chanced at us could hardly fail to hit somebody. Two or three
well-placed shots might sink us. But Anazeh had presence of
mind. He changed helm, so as to present us end-on to the shore.
Low in the water though the boat was, we were beginning to make
good headway.

The Sikhs lost no time. Shots began to whizz overhead and to
splash the water around us. But the boat was painted gray; as
we increased the distance we must have looked like a moving patch
of darker water with a puzzling wake behind us. The sea was
still. The stars were reflected in it in unsteady dots and
streaks. The moon cast a silver patch of light that shimmered,
and confused the eye. Sikhs are not by any means all marksmen.
At any rate, the shots all missed. Though some of our party,
Anazeh included, returned the fire, none boasted of having hit
any one. And an Arab boasts at the least excuse.

In a few minutes we were out of rang