Read Crocodile on the Sandbank Online
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: #Historical fiction, #Detective and mystery stories, #Mystery fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #Suspense, #Crime & mystery, #Political, #Women detectives - Egypt, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictious character), #Crime & Thriller, #Mummies, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictitious character), #Egyptology, #Cairo (Egypt), #Mystery, #Detective, #Women detectives, #Emerson, #Radcliffe (Fictitious character), #Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, #Archaeologists' spouses, #Mystery & Detective - General, #Egypt, #Fiction - Mystery
Crocodile on the Sandbank (20 page)
Lucas had been sitting in sullen silence, staring at the wine bottle,
which was at my elbow. I was of two minds as to whether to
carry it with me when I retired. I decided against it. Lucas probably
had plenty more.
As I rose, he jumped up and held my chair.
"Excuse my bad manners, Miss Amelia," he said quietly. "But indeed, I
am not at all drunk. I merely wanted to convey that impression."
"It seems to be a favorite plan of yours," I said drily, walking toward
the stairs. Lucas followed me.
"I am sleeping in one of the cabins below," he said, in the same soft
voice. "I will be awake and ready
in case I am needed."
Now I had said nothing to Lucas of my conversation with Emerson the
preceding night. Emerson had not needed to caution me against it; I had
no particular confidence in Lucas myself. His comment meant that,
independently, he had arrived at the same conclusion we had reached,
and this fact both alarmed and interested me.
"I trust I will not need you," I replied.
We descended the narrow stairs and went into the cabin area. Lucas took
my arm and brought me to a halt.
"This is the cabin I am occupying," he whispered. "Will you wait a
moment, Miss Amelia? I want to
show you something."
I waited in the dark corridor while he stepped into the cabin. He was
back in a moment, carrying a long object, like a stick. I peered
through the gloom before I was able to identify it; and then I started
to expostulate.
"Never fear," said Lucas, holding up the rifle— for such it was. "It is
not loaded. I would not make that mistake again."
"Then why carry it?"
"Sssh!" Lucas put a finger to his lips. "Only you and I know it is not
loaded. Perhaps the Mummy has reason not to fear a small-caliber
handgun, but he will not be so nonchalant about a shell from an express
that can bring down a charging elephant. And if all else fails, it
makes an admirable club!"
He raised the rifle above his head.
"I think it is a foolish, idea," I snapped. "But if you are determined
on it.... Good night, Lucas."
I left him brandishing the weapon, an idiotic grin on his face.
Ordinarily Evelyn and I occupied separate cabins, but I had no
intention of leaving her alone that night. I feigned a return of
weakness, in order to persuade her to share my room without alarming
her, and she helped me into bed with sweet solicitude. She soon joined
me. Darkness fell as she blew out the lamp, and before long her soft,
regular breathing told me that fatigue had overcome the anxieties that
still distressed her.
I did not sleep, but I found it more difficult than I had expected to
overcome Morpheus. I had taken only a single glass of wine, despite
Lucas's attempts to induce me to drink more. Ordinarily such a small
amount does not affect me in the slightest, but as the minutes went on
and the voices of the crewmen faded into silence, I fought sleep as if
it had been a bitter enemy. Finally I arose— with care, so as not to
waken Evelyn— and went into the adjoining cubicle, which served as our
bathroom, where I splashed water on my face and even slapped it as
vigorously as I dared. I was finally driven to pinching myself; and a
foolish figure I would have made, if anyone had been there to
see— standing bolt upright in the center of the room, applying my nails
to the flesh of my arm at regular intervals.
The night was very silent. The men were asleep, I assumed. The soft
night sounds of the Nile were as soothing as a lullaby. My knees kept
bending, and I kept jerking myself erect. I had no idea how much time
had passed. It seemed like hours.
At last, feeling slightly more alert, I went back into the sleeping
chamber and approached the window.
It was not the porthole sort of
window one finds on regular sailing ships, but a wide aperture, open to
the air but covered by a curtain in order to keep out the light. It
opened onto the lower deck, not quite level with the flooring, but
easily reached from it. I knew that if danger should approach, it must
come this way. Our door
was locked and bolted securely, but there was no way of locking the
window without shutting out the air and making the room too stifling
for comfortable sleep.
My hand went to the window frame all the same. After some internal
debate I decided to leave it open. The increasingly stuffy air might
waken Evelyn, and the window creaked, as I remembered from before.
Instead I drew the curtain back just enough to see out, and remained
standing, my elbows on the sill, my hands propping my drowsy head.
I could see a section of the deck from where I stood, and beyond it the
silvered reaches of the river, with the night sky overhead. The moon's
rays were so bright I could make out details like the nails in the
planking. Nothing moved, except the rippling silver of the water.
How long I stood there I cannot calculate. I fell into a kind of waking
doze, erect, but not wholly conscious. Finally I became aware of
something moving along the deck to my right.
Lucas's cabin was in that direction, but I knew it was not Lucas. I
knew what it was. Had I not expected it?
It kept to the shadows, but I made out the now familiar pale shape of
it easily enough. I cannot explain why, but on this occasion I felt
none of the superstitious terror that had paralyzed me on its earlier
visits. Perhaps it was the skulking surreptitious movement of the
thing; perhaps it was the familiarity of the surroundings. In any case,
I began to feel enormous exasperation. Really, the Mummy was becoming
ridiculous! Its repertoire was so limited; why didn't it do something
different, instead of creeping around waving its arms?
I was no longer sleepy, and I calculated, quite coolly, what I should
do. How I would crow over Emerson if, single-handedly, I could capture
our mysterious adversary! I quite forgot his admonitions. I would not
be satisfied with driving the Mummy away, as we had planned; no, I must
catch it!
The only question was: Should I call for help, or should I attack the
creature myself? I was reluctant to follow the former course. The
crewmen were at the far end of the deck and were, no doubt, sleeping
off their unaccustomed debauch so heavily that a cry would not waken
them in time to prevent the creature's escape. As for Lucas, I did not
doubt that he was snoring heavily. No, I thought; I would wait, to see
what the Mummy did. If it tried to enter our room through the
window— then I had it! My right hand already clasped the handle of the
pitcher, which, filled with water, stood beside the bed. It was a heavy
earthenware jug and would raise a good lump on the head of anything it
struck.
As I debated with myself, the Mummy stepped out into the moonlight. It
had to do so, in order to reach our room; and as it did, my feelings
underwent a sudden alteration. It was so large! It seemed bigger than a
grown man, and although I told myself that the appearance of gigantism
was the result of the bulky bandaging, my nerves were not quite
convinced. Would the jug be sufficient to render the thing unconscious?
I had forgotten that its head was padded. Suppose I struck and failed?
I have considerable faith in my powers, but I was not mad enough to
suppose that I could engage in hand-to-hand struggle with a creature of
that size and come out victorious. Even if it were a mere man, and not
a monster endowed with supernatural strength, it could overcome me; and
then---- Evelyn lay sleeping and helpless
in the bed. No—no, I could not risk that. I must wake her; better that
she should be frightened than— the unspeakable alternative. I must
call;
better that the thing should escape than ...
I drew a deep breath.
"Lucas! Lucas!" I shrieked. "A moi, Lucas! Help!"
I cannot imagine why I shouted in French. It was a dramatic moment.
To my taut nerves the results of my cry seemed long in coming. The
Mummy stopped its stealthy advance. I had the decided impression that
it was surprised to hear my voice.
Behind me, Evelyn stirred and began to mutter sleepily. And then, with
a loud thump and crash, Lucas jumped through the window of the next
cabin onto the deck.
Even in that moment of danger I was glad Evelyn could not see him as he
rushed to her rescue. He was fully dressed, but his shirt collar was
open and his sleeves were rolled up, displaying muscular, rather hairy
arms. His face was set in an expression of grim resolve; his right hand
clasped the rifle. He was a sight to thrill any romantic girl; I felt a
mild thrill myself as he threw the rifle to his shoulder and aimed it
at the gruesome form that confronted him.
"Stop," he ordered, in a low but compelling voice. "Do not take another
step, or I fire! D— it," he added vexedly, "does the monstrosity
understand English? How absurd this is!"
"It understands the gesture, at least," I called, thrusting head and
shoulders through the window. "Lucas, for pity's sake, seize it! Don't
stand there deriding its linguistic inadequacies!"
The Mummy's head swung around until the featureless face looked
directly at me. Oh, yes, it could see;
I swear I caught a flash of eyes
amid the darkness under its brows. It raised its arms and began to emit
the mewing, growling cry that seemed to characterize its angry moods.
Evelyn was awake and calling out. I heard the bedsprings creak as she
tried to rise.
"Stay where you are, Evelyn," I ordered. "Don't move. Lucas"—I disliked
giving him the credit, but honesty demanded I should— "Lucas and I have
the situation under control."
"What do I do now?" Lucas asked, addressing me. "It does not seem to
understand me; and you know, Miss Amelia— "
"Strike it on the head," I shouted. "Rush at it and strike! Good Gad,
why are you standing there? I will
do it myself!"
I started to climb through the window. Evelyn had disregarded my
orders; she was standing behind me, and as I essayed to move she caught
me around the waist, crying out in alarm.
Lucas was grinning broadly; the man had no sense of the proprieties.
His smile did not endure, however. As I struggled with Evelyn, the
Mummy moved. It lowered its arms; men one, the right arm, shot out with
the force of a
man throwing some object. Nothing left its hand. It did
not step forward. But Lucas's body jerked violently. The rifle fell, as
if his arms had suddenly lost then: strength; it struck the deck with a
metallic clatter, and Lucas fell upon it, face downward.
I stopped struggling. Evelyn and I stood with our arms wrapped around
one another, frozen with horror. The Mummy's hideous laughter resounded
through the quiet night. It turned to face our window.
Then, at long last, from the deck to the left came the sound of voices.
The crewmen were awake. The Mummy heard. It raised one bandaged arm and
shook a paw menacingly in the direction of the approaching men. I could
not see them, but I knew they had seen the Mummy; they had probably
seen the entire incredible performance, which had been played out on
the open deck.
With a series of acrobatic bounds, the bandaged figure left. Evelyn was
limp in my grasp. I shook her, none too gently.
"Lie down," I ordered. "You are safe, Evelyn; I must go to Lucas."
She slumped down onto the floor, and I scrambled through the window—no
easy task in my voluminous night garments. I am afraid I displayed some
part of my limbs as I crawled out onto the deck, but I was past
worrying about that, and the crewmen were in no condition to notice my
lack of dignity. I saw them as I got to my feet; they were clustered in
a dark mass at the end of the deck, huddling together like silly sheep
afraid of a wolf.
Lucas was still motionless.
I turned him over, not without difficulty; he was a heavy man, and
would one day be fat if he continued to indulge himself. He did not
appear to be injured; his pulse was strong, if a
little too quick, and his color was good. But his breath came and went
in the oddest whistling gasps and from time to time his whole body
quivered in a kind of muscular spasm.
At first the men would not approach, and when they finally crept
forward they refused to touch Lucas, even to carry him to a cabin. Reis
Hassan finally came; his whiplash voice roused the men. I fancied they
were almost as afraid of him as they were of the supernatural—but not
quite. As soon as they had placed Lucas on his bed, they fled.
Hassan remained, standing just within the doorway, with his arms folded
across his broad chest.
Never had I so regretted that I had not learned Arabic instead of
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. Hassan was not anxious to explain himself,
and my incoherent questions were probably as unintelligible to him as
his answers were to me. I thought he was rather ashamed of himself, but
the cause of his shame was not easy to ascertain. He had slept too
soundly, that much I was able to understand. All the crew had slept.
It
was not a natural sleep. It was like a spell— like magic. Otherwise
they
would, of course, have rushed to answer my call for help.
That much I grasped, or thought I grasped. It did not reassure me. I
dismissed Hassan, after ordering him, as well as I could, to keep a man
on watch for the remainder of the night. Lucas demanded my attention;
and I was uneasily aware of the fact that I could no longer rely on my
crew, not even my captain. If they had not already been frightened by
tales of the Mummy, the night's adventure would have done the job.
Lucas was still unconscious. I did not dare consider the nature of the
force that had struck him down so mysteriously; after examining him for
a wound, and finding none, I decided to treat his condition as I would
an ordinary fault. But none of my measures succeeded. His eyes remained
closed; his broad chest rose and fell in the strange, stentorious
breathing.
I began to be frightened. If this was a faint, it was an unnatural one.
I rubbed his hands, slapped cold cloths on face and breast, elevated
his feet—to no avail. Finally I turned to Evelyn, who was standing in
the open doorway watching me.
"He is not..." She could not finish the sentence.
"No, nor in any danger of dying," I replied quickly. "I don't
understand what is wrong with him."
which was at my elbow. I was of two minds as to whether to
carry it with me when I retired. I decided against it. Lucas probably
had plenty more.
As I rose, he jumped up and held my chair.
"Excuse my bad manners, Miss Amelia," he said quietly. "But indeed, I
am not at all drunk. I merely wanted to convey that impression."
"It seems to be a favorite plan of yours," I said drily, walking toward
the stairs. Lucas followed me.
"I am sleeping in one of the cabins below," he said, in the same soft
voice. "I will be awake and ready
in case I am needed."
Now I had said nothing to Lucas of my conversation with Emerson the
preceding night. Emerson had not needed to caution me against it; I had
no particular confidence in Lucas myself. His comment meant that,
independently, he had arrived at the same conclusion we had reached,
and this fact both alarmed and interested me.
"I trust I will not need you," I replied.
We descended the narrow stairs and went into the cabin area. Lucas took
my arm and brought me to a halt.
"This is the cabin I am occupying," he whispered. "Will you wait a
moment, Miss Amelia? I want to
show you something."
I waited in the dark corridor while he stepped into the cabin. He was
back in a moment, carrying a long object, like a stick. I peered
through the gloom before I was able to identify it; and then I started
to expostulate.
"Never fear," said Lucas, holding up the rifle— for such it was. "It is
not loaded. I would not make that mistake again."
"Then why carry it?"
"Sssh!" Lucas put a finger to his lips. "Only you and I know it is not
loaded. Perhaps the Mummy has reason not to fear a small-caliber
handgun, but he will not be so nonchalant about a shell from an express
that can bring down a charging elephant. And if all else fails, it
makes an admirable club!"
He raised the rifle above his head.
"I think it is a foolish, idea," I snapped. "But if you are determined
on it.... Good night, Lucas."
I left him brandishing the weapon, an idiotic grin on his face.
Ordinarily Evelyn and I occupied separate cabins, but I had no
intention of leaving her alone that night. I feigned a return of
weakness, in order to persuade her to share my room without alarming
her, and she helped me into bed with sweet solicitude. She soon joined
me. Darkness fell as she blew out the lamp, and before long her soft,
regular breathing told me that fatigue had overcome the anxieties that
still distressed her.
I did not sleep, but I found it more difficult than I had expected to
overcome Morpheus. I had taken only a single glass of wine, despite
Lucas's attempts to induce me to drink more. Ordinarily such a small
amount does not affect me in the slightest, but as the minutes went on
and the voices of the crewmen faded into silence, I fought sleep as if
it had been a bitter enemy. Finally I arose— with care, so as not to
waken Evelyn— and went into the adjoining cubicle, which served as our
bathroom, where I splashed water on my face and even slapped it as
vigorously as I dared. I was finally driven to pinching myself; and a
foolish figure I would have made, if anyone had been there to
see— standing bolt upright in the center of the room, applying my nails
to the flesh of my arm at regular intervals.
The night was very silent. The men were asleep, I assumed. The soft
night sounds of the Nile were as soothing as a lullaby. My knees kept
bending, and I kept jerking myself erect. I had no idea how much time
had passed. It seemed like hours.
At last, feeling slightly more alert, I went back into the sleeping
chamber and approached the window.
It was not the porthole sort of
window one finds on regular sailing ships, but a wide aperture, open to
the air but covered by a curtain in order to keep out the light. It
opened onto the lower deck, not quite level with the flooring, but
easily reached from it. I knew that if danger should approach, it must
come this way. Our door
was locked and bolted securely, but there was no way of locking the
window without shutting out the air and making the room too stifling
for comfortable sleep.
My hand went to the window frame all the same. After some internal
debate I decided to leave it open. The increasingly stuffy air might
waken Evelyn, and the window creaked, as I remembered from before.
Instead I drew the curtain back just enough to see out, and remained
standing, my elbows on the sill, my hands propping my drowsy head.
I could see a section of the deck from where I stood, and beyond it the
silvered reaches of the river, with the night sky overhead. The moon's
rays were so bright I could make out details like the nails in the
planking. Nothing moved, except the rippling silver of the water.
How long I stood there I cannot calculate. I fell into a kind of waking
doze, erect, but not wholly conscious. Finally I became aware of
something moving along the deck to my right.
Lucas's cabin was in that direction, but I knew it was not Lucas. I
knew what it was. Had I not expected it?
It kept to the shadows, but I made out the now familiar pale shape of
it easily enough. I cannot explain why, but on this occasion I felt
none of the superstitious terror that had paralyzed me on its earlier
visits. Perhaps it was the skulking surreptitious movement of the
thing; perhaps it was the familiarity of the surroundings. In any case,
I began to feel enormous exasperation. Really, the Mummy was becoming
ridiculous! Its repertoire was so limited; why didn't it do something
different, instead of creeping around waving its arms?
I was no longer sleepy, and I calculated, quite coolly, what I should
do. How I would crow over Emerson if, single-handedly, I could capture
our mysterious adversary! I quite forgot his admonitions. I would not
be satisfied with driving the Mummy away, as we had planned; no, I must
catch it!
The only question was: Should I call for help, or should I attack the
creature myself? I was reluctant to follow the former course. The
crewmen were at the far end of the deck and were, no doubt, sleeping
off their unaccustomed debauch so heavily that a cry would not waken
them in time to prevent the creature's escape. As for Lucas, I did not
doubt that he was snoring heavily. No, I thought; I would wait, to see
what the Mummy did. If it tried to enter our room through the
window— then I had it! My right hand already clasped the handle of the
pitcher, which, filled with water, stood beside the bed. It was a heavy
earthenware jug and would raise a good lump on the head of anything it
struck.
As I debated with myself, the Mummy stepped out into the moonlight. It
had to do so, in order to reach our room; and as it did, my feelings
underwent a sudden alteration. It was so large! It seemed bigger than a
grown man, and although I told myself that the appearance of gigantism
was the result of the bulky bandaging, my nerves were not quite
convinced. Would the jug be sufficient to render the thing unconscious?
I had forgotten that its head was padded. Suppose I struck and failed?
I have considerable faith in my powers, but I was not mad enough to
suppose that I could engage in hand-to-hand struggle with a creature of
that size and come out victorious. Even if it were a mere man, and not
a monster endowed with supernatural strength, it could overcome me; and
then---- Evelyn lay sleeping and helpless
in the bed. No—no, I could not risk that. I must wake her; better that
she should be frightened than— the unspeakable alternative. I must
call;
better that the thing should escape than ...
I drew a deep breath.
"Lucas! Lucas!" I shrieked. "A moi, Lucas! Help!"
I cannot imagine why I shouted in French. It was a dramatic moment.
To my taut nerves the results of my cry seemed long in coming. The
Mummy stopped its stealthy advance. I had the decided impression that
it was surprised to hear my voice.
Behind me, Evelyn stirred and began to mutter sleepily. And then, with
a loud thump and crash, Lucas jumped through the window of the next
cabin onto the deck.
Even in that moment of danger I was glad Evelyn could not see him as he
rushed to her rescue. He was fully dressed, but his shirt collar was
open and his sleeves were rolled up, displaying muscular, rather hairy
arms. His face was set in an expression of grim resolve; his right hand
clasped the rifle. He was a sight to thrill any romantic girl; I felt a
mild thrill myself as he threw the rifle to his shoulder and aimed it
at the gruesome form that confronted him.
"Stop," he ordered, in a low but compelling voice. "Do not take another
step, or I fire! D— it," he added vexedly, "does the monstrosity
understand English? How absurd this is!"
"It understands the gesture, at least," I called, thrusting head and
shoulders through the window. "Lucas, for pity's sake, seize it! Don't
stand there deriding its linguistic inadequacies!"
The Mummy's head swung around until the featureless face looked
directly at me. Oh, yes, it could see;
I swear I caught a flash of eyes
amid the darkness under its brows. It raised its arms and began to emit
the mewing, growling cry that seemed to characterize its angry moods.
Evelyn was awake and calling out. I heard the bedsprings creak as she
tried to rise.
"Stay where you are, Evelyn," I ordered. "Don't move. Lucas"—I disliked
giving him the credit, but honesty demanded I should— "Lucas and I have
the situation under control."
"What do I do now?" Lucas asked, addressing me. "It does not seem to
understand me; and you know, Miss Amelia— "
"Strike it on the head," I shouted. "Rush at it and strike! Good Gad,
why are you standing there? I will
do it myself!"
I started to climb through the window. Evelyn had disregarded my
orders; she was standing behind me, and as I essayed to move she caught
me around the waist, crying out in alarm.
Lucas was grinning broadly; the man had no sense of the proprieties.
His smile did not endure, however. As I struggled with Evelyn, the
Mummy moved. It lowered its arms; men one, the right arm, shot out with
the force of a
man throwing some object. Nothing left its hand. It did
not step forward. But Lucas's body jerked violently. The rifle fell, as
if his arms had suddenly lost then: strength; it struck the deck with a
metallic clatter, and Lucas fell upon it, face downward.
I stopped struggling. Evelyn and I stood with our arms wrapped around
one another, frozen with horror. The Mummy's hideous laughter resounded
through the quiet night. It turned to face our window.
Then, at long last, from the deck to the left came the sound of voices.
The crewmen were awake. The Mummy heard. It raised one bandaged arm and
shook a paw menacingly in the direction of the approaching men. I could
not see them, but I knew they had seen the Mummy; they had probably
seen the entire incredible performance, which had been played out on
the open deck.
With a series of acrobatic bounds, the bandaged figure left. Evelyn was
limp in my grasp. I shook her, none too gently.
"Lie down," I ordered. "You are safe, Evelyn; I must go to Lucas."
She slumped down onto the floor, and I scrambled through the window—no
easy task in my voluminous night garments. I am afraid I displayed some
part of my limbs as I crawled out onto the deck, but I was past
worrying about that, and the crewmen were in no condition to notice my
lack of dignity. I saw them as I got to my feet; they were clustered in
a dark mass at the end of the deck, huddling together like silly sheep
afraid of a wolf.
Lucas was still motionless.
I turned him over, not without difficulty; he was a heavy man, and
would one day be fat if he continued to indulge himself. He did not
appear to be injured; his pulse was strong, if a
little too quick, and his color was good. But his breath came and went
in the oddest whistling gasps and from time to time his whole body
quivered in a kind of muscular spasm.
At first the men would not approach, and when they finally crept
forward they refused to touch Lucas, even to carry him to a cabin. Reis
Hassan finally came; his whiplash voice roused the men. I fancied they
were almost as afraid of him as they were of the supernatural—but not
quite. As soon as they had placed Lucas on his bed, they fled.
Hassan remained, standing just within the doorway, with his arms folded
across his broad chest.
Never had I so regretted that I had not learned Arabic instead of
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. Hassan was not anxious to explain himself,
and my incoherent questions were probably as unintelligible to him as
his answers were to me. I thought he was rather ashamed of himself, but
the cause of his shame was not easy to ascertain. He had slept too
soundly, that much I was able to understand. All the crew had slept.
It
was not a natural sleep. It was like a spell— like magic. Otherwise
they
would, of course, have rushed to answer my call for help.
That much I grasped, or thought I grasped. It did not reassure me. I
dismissed Hassan, after ordering him, as well as I could, to keep a man
on watch for the remainder of the night. Lucas demanded my attention;
and I was uneasily aware of the fact that I could no longer rely on my
crew, not even my captain. If they had not already been frightened by
tales of the Mummy, the night's adventure would have done the job.
Lucas was still unconscious. I did not dare consider the nature of the
force that had struck him down so mysteriously; after examining him for
a wound, and finding none, I decided to treat his condition as I would
an ordinary fault. But none of my measures succeeded. His eyes remained
closed; his broad chest rose and fell in the strange, stentorious
breathing.
I began to be frightened. If this was a faint, it was an unnatural one.
I rubbed his hands, slapped cold cloths on face and breast, elevated
his feet—to no avail. Finally I turned to Evelyn, who was standing in
the open doorway watching me.
"He is not..." She could not finish the sentence.
"No, nor in any danger of dying," I replied quickly. "I don't
understand what is wrong with him."
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