The Pirate City: An Algerine Tale

Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

THE PIRATE CITY, BY R.M. BALLANTINE.

A Tale of the Pirates of the City of Algiers, and their Defeat by the British Navy.

The Time of the Action is about 1817.

The Pirate City--by RM Ballantyne

CHAPTER ONE.

OPENS THE TALE.

Some time within the first quarter of the present nineteenth century, a little old lady--some people would even have called her a dear little old lady--sat one afternoon in a high-backed chair beside a cottage window, from which might be had a magnificent view of Sicilian rocks, with the Mediterranean beyond.

This little old lady was so pleasant in all respects that an adequate description of her is an impossibility. Her mouth was a perfect study. It was not troubled with anything in the shape of teeth. It lay between a delicate little down-turned nose and a soft little up-turned chin, which two seemed as if anxious to meet in order to protect it. The wrinkles that surrounded that mouth were innumerable, and each wrinkle was a distinct and separate smile; so that, whether pursing or expanding, it was at all times rippling with an expression of tender benignity.

This little old lady plays no part in our tale; nevertheless she merits passing introduction as being the grandmother of our hero, a Sicilian youth of nineteen, who, at the time we write of, sat on a stool at her feet engaged in earnest conversation.

"Grandmother," said the youth in a perplexed mood, "why won't you let _me_ go into the Church instead of brother Lucien? I'm certain that he does not want to, though he is fit enough, as far as education goes, and goodness; but you know well enough that he is desperately fond of Juliet, and she is equally desperate about him, and nothing could be more pleasant than that they should get married."

"Tut, child, you talk nonsense," said the old lady, letting a sigh escape from the rippling mouth. "Your father's dearest wish has always been to see Lucien enter the Church, and although Juliet is our adopted child, we do not intend to interfere with the wishes of her uncle the abbot, who has offered to place her in the convent of Saint Shutemup. As to you taking Lucien's place,"--here the mouth expanded considerably--"ah! Mariano, you are too foolish, too giddy; better fitted to be a sailor or soldier I should think--"

"How!" interrupted Mariano. "Do you then estimate the profession of the soldier and sailor so low, that you think only foolish and giddy fellows are fit for it?"

"Not so, child; but it is a school which is eminently fitted to teach respect and obedience to foolish and giddy fellows who are pert to their grandmothers."

"Ah! how unfair," exclaimed Mariano, with assumed solemnity; "I give you good advice, with gravity equal to that of any priest, and yet you call me pert. Grandmother, you are ungrateful as well as unjust. Have I not been good to you all my life?"

"You have, my child," said the little old lady; "very good--also rather troublesome, especially in the way of talking nonsense, and I'm sorry to find that although your goodness continues, your troublesomeness does not cease!"

"Well, well," replied the youth, with a sprightly toss of the head, "Lucien and I shall enjoy at least a few weeks more of our old life on the blue sea before he takes to musty books and I to the stool of the clerk. Ah, why did you allow father to give us a good education? How much more enjoyable it would have been to have lived the free life of a fisherman--or of that pig," he said, pointing to one which had just strayed into the garden and lain down to roll in the earth--"what happy ignorance or ignorant happiness; what concentrated enjoyment of the present, what perfect oblivion as to the past, what obvious disregard of the future--"

"Ay," interrupted the little old lady, "what blissful ignorance of the deeds of ancient heroes, of the noble achievements of great and good men, of the adventures of Marco Polo, and Magellan, and Vasco de Gama, over whose voyages you have so often and so fondly pored."

"I see, grandmother, that it is useless to argue with you. Let us turn to a graver subject. Tell me, what am I to bring you from Malta? As this is in very truth to be our last voyage, I must bring you something grand, something costly.--Ah, here comes Juliet to help us to decide."

As he spoke a pretty dark-eyed girl of nineteen entered the room and joined their council, but before they had gone very deep into the question which Mariano had propounded, they were interrupted by the entrance of the head of the house, Francisco Rimini, a strong portly man of about fifty years of age, with a brown, healthy complexion, grizzled locks, a bald pate, and a semi-nautical gait. He was followed by a stranger, and by his eldest son, Lucien--a tall, grave, slender youth of twenty-three, who was in many respects the opposite of his brother Mariano, physically as well as mentally. The latter was middle-sized, broad-shouldered, and very powerful, with short curly brown hair, flashing eyes and sprightly disposition--active as a kitten, and rather mischievous. Lucien was grave, gentle, and studious; elegantly rather than powerfully formed, and disposed rather to enjoy fun by looking on than engaging in it. Both brothers, as well as their father, possessed kindly dispositions and resolute spirits.

"Mother," said Francisco, "let me introduce to you my friend Signor Bacri, a merchant who goes in my vessel as a passenger to Malta. He dines with us to-day; and that reminds me that you must hasten our dinner, as events have transpired which oblige me to set sail two hours earlier than I had intended; so please expedite matters, Juliet."

The stranger bowed with Oriental dignity to the little old lady, and, seating himself by her side, entered into conversation.

Bacri was a middle-aged man of magnificent appearance. From the cast of his features it was easy to perceive that he was of Jewish extraction, and his proportions might have been compared to those of the ancient enemy of his nation, Goliath. Like Saul, he was a head and shoulders higher than ordinary men, yet he evidently placed no confidence in his physical strength, for although his countenance was grave and his expression dignified, he stooped a good deal, as though to avoid knocking his head against ceilings and beams, and was singularly humble and unobtrusive in his manners. There was a winning softness, too, in his voice and in his smile, which went far to disarm that distrust of, and antipathy to, his race which prevailed in days of old, and unfortunately prevails still, to some extent, in Christendom.

With the activity of a good housewife, Juliet expedited the operations of the cook; dinner was served in good time; Francisco, who was owner of his vessel and cargo, as well as padrone or captain, entertained Bacri with accounts of his adventures on the sea, which the Jew returned in kind with his experiences of mercantile transactions in savage lands. Mariano drank in all that they said with youthful avidity, and the little old lady's mouth rippled responsive, like the aspen leaf to the breeze; while Lucien and Juliet, thus left to themselves, had no other resource than to entertain each other as best they could!

Then the adieux were said, the voyagers went down to the port, embarked on board their good ship--a trim-built schooner--and set sail with a fair wind.

"I wish I saw them all safe back again!" said the little old lady, with a sigh.

Juliet said nothing, though she echoed the sigh.

Meanwhile the schooner leant over to the breeze, and ere night-fall left the shores of Sicily far behind.

CHAPTER TWO.

UNFOLDS A LITTLE OF THE TALE.

Another and a very different vessel chanced to be floating in those seas at the time the Sicilian trader set sail. At a distance she might have been mistaken for a fishing-boat, for she carried only two lateen sails, of that high triangular form which may still be seen in the Mediterranean and on the lakes of Switzerland. In reality, however, the vessel was of greater dimensions than even the largest boat, and her main-mast with its sail was of gigantic proportions. She was also full-decked, and several pieces of heavy ordnance pointed their black muzzles from port-holes in her bulwarks.

No one could have mistaken her character as a vessel of war, for, besides the guns referred to, she had an unusually large crew of bronzed and stalwart men. Their costume, as well as their arms, told that these were of Eastern origin. Although there was much variety in detail, they all wore the same gold-laced jackets, the same loose Turkish drawers gathered in below the knees, and broad silken scarfs round their waists, with richly chased silver-mounted pistols and yataghans or curved swords. Some wore the turban, others the blue-tasselled red fez or tarbouch of Tunis, while a few contented themselves with a kerchief tied loosely round their heads.

One, who appeared to be the captain of the vessel, stood near the steersman, leaning on the bulwarks, and scanning the horizon with a telescope. His costume was similar to that of his men, but of richer material.

"It is certainly a sail," said he whom we have styled the captain to one who stood by his side, and might have been his lieutenant or mate.

"She bears sou'-west, I think," replied the latter.

"So much the better," returned the captain; "let her fall off a little-- so, steady. If this wind holds for half an hour we shall get well abreast of her, and then--"

The captain shut up the telescope with an emphatic bang, by way of termination to his remark, and, turning on his heel, paced the deck rapidly by the side of his mate.

"We have been unlucky hitherto," he observed; "perchance fortune may change and now be favourable. At all events, we shall be ready. See, the breeze freshens. Go, call up the men and clear for action."

The breeze had indeed been freshening while he spoke, and now came down in a series of squalls that caused the piratical-looking craft to lie over as if she were about to capsize. The vessel which they were pursuing also bent over to the breeze and crowded all sail; for well did Francisco, its owner and padrone, know, from past experience, that Algerine corsairs were fast sailers, and that his only hope lay in showing them his heels! He had often given them the slip before--why should he not again?

While thus doing his best to escape, however, the bluff merchant did not neglect to make preparations for defence.

"Clear away the big gun," he said to Mariano, who acted as his first officer, Lucien being the scrivano or supercargo of the vessel; "'tis a good piece, and has turned the flight of many a pirate with its first bark."

The latter part of this remark was addressed to Bacri, who stood, leaning over the taffrail, looking anxiously at the vessel in chase.

"If it be Sidi Hassan," muttered the Jew half aloud, "there is little chance--"

"What say you?" demanded Francisco.

"I say that if it be the vessel of a man whom I happen to know, you will have to trust to your sails for deliverance--fighting will be of no avail."

Francisco looked at the Jew with some surprise, not unmingled with contempt.

"A warlike spirit, it seems, does not always consort with a powerful frame," he said; "but how come you to have scraped acquaintance with these pirates, whose existence is a blight upon the commerce of the Mediterranean, and a disgrace to our age?"

"None should know better than thyself that a trader, like any other traveller, becomes acquainted with strange bedfellows," replied Bacri, with a quiet smile. "As to a warlike spirit, of what use would it be in a despised Israelite to display such?"

"There is truth in that," returned the padrone in a more respectful tone; "nevertheless, if fighting becomes needful, I trust that one furnished with such thews and sinews will not fail to lend effective aid."

"That he will not, I dare say; and here is a cutlass for him, wherewith to carve a name and fame," said Mariano, coming aft at the moment and presenting the weapon to Bacri, who took it with a half-humorous smile, and laid it on the seat beside him.

"Hast got the big gun ready, boy?" demanded Francisco.

"Ay--loaded her almost to the muzzle. I ordered her to be double-shotted, and that big black rascal Manqua slily crammed in a handful of nails without leave. I only hope she won't burst."

"Burst!" exclaimed the padrone, with a laugh; "if you were to load her even beyond the muzzle she wouldn't burst. I remember once loading her with a full dose of canister, and clapped two round shot on the top of that, after which the same negro you have mentioned, (for he has a tendency in that way), shoved in a handspike without orders, and let the whole concern fly at a pirate boat, which it blew clean out of the water: she well-nigh burst the drums of our ears on that occasion, but showed no sign whatever of bursting herself."

"Nevertheless," said Bacri earnestly, "I advise you to trust entirely to your sails."

"We haven't another stitch of canvas to set," said Francisco in reply; "and if we had, the old schooner couldn't stand it, for, as you may see, the strain is already as much as she can bear."

This was indeed the case, for the vessel was by that time flying before a stiff breeze, with all the sail set that she could carry, while the water dashed in clouds from her bows, and rushed over her lee bulwarks.

But the sailing powers of the pirate-vessel were superior to those of the trading schooner. In a short time she was close alongside, and fired a shot across her bows to cause her to heave-to. This, however, the determined skipper resolved not to do. In reply he sent on board the pirates the varied contents of the big gun, which cut the halyards of their smaller sail, and brought it down on the deck. This result was celebrated by a hearty cheer from the schooner's crew. The pirates, in return, discharged a broadside which cut away the foremast of the schooner, thus rendering escape impossible.

"Now, men," cried Francisco, when the disaster occurred, "you must this day make your choice--victory or slavery--for there is no mercy in the breasts of these scoundrels."

He waited for no reply, but at once sprang to the big gun, which had been re-loaded with a charge so miscellaneous that the sable Manqua grinned with satisfaction as he endeavoured to ram it home.

Meanwhile Mariano and Lucien placed the men, who were armed to the teeth, at the gangways, and along the weather-side of the schooner, to be in readiness to repel the foe when they should attempt to board.

There was no hesitation on the part of the pirates, although they saw plainly the vigorous preparations which were being made to receive them. Bearing down on the crippled vessel at full speed, in spite of the bellowing discharge from the great gun, and a well-delivered volley of small shot, which stretched many of them on the deck, they ran straight against her, threw grappling-irons into the rigging, and sprang on board with a fierce yell.

The melee that followed was sharp, but very short and decisive. The Sicilian crew fought with the courage of desperate men, but were almost instantly overpowered by numbers. Mariano had singled out the pirate captain as his own special foe. In making towards the spot where he expected that he would board, he observed the tall Jew standing by the wheel with his arms crossed on his breast, and regarding the attack with apparent indifference.

"What!" cried Mariano, anger mingling with his surprise, "do you stand idle at such a moment?"

"You will miss your chance," returned Bacri, giving a glance and a nod towards the side of the vessel where the pirate captain stood ready to spring.

Almost at the instant that the brief hint was given, Mariano had sprung to the bulwarks, and parried the thrust of a boarding-spike, which act unfortunately disconcerted his aim in discharging his pistol. Next moment he had seized the pirate by the throat, and fell with him to the deck, where a fierce struggle ensued.

We have said that the Sicilian youth was powerfully made, but the pirate captain was more than a match for him in size, if not in courage; nevertheless, the superior activity of Mariano, coupled with the fact that he chanced to fall uppermost, gave him an advantage which would in a few moments have cost the pirate his life, had not a blow from behind rendered his youthful adversary insensible.

Rising hastily and regaining the yataghan which had fallen from his grasp in the struggle, the pirate captain was about to rush again into the fight, but, perceiving that although one or two of the schooner's crew still showed resistance, his men were almost everywhere in possession of the deck, he desisted, and turned with a look of surprise to the man who had freed him from his antagonist.

"_You_ here, Bacri!" he said. "Truly my fate is a hard one when it condemns me to be rescued by a dog of a Jew."

"It might have been harder, Sidi Hassan, if it had condemned you to be slain by the hand of a Christian," replied the Jew, with an air of humility that scarcely harmonised with his towering height and his breadth of shoulder.

Hassan uttered a short laugh, and was about to reply when a shout from his men caused him to run to the forward part of the vessel, where Francisco, Lucien, and the warlike negro already referred to were still fighting desperately, surrounded by pirates, many of whom were badly wounded. It was well for the three heroes that their foes had discharged all their pistols at the first rush. Some of them, now rendered furious by the unexpectedly successful opposition made by the dauntless three, as well as by the smarting of their wounds, were hastily re-loading their weapons, when their captain came forward. It was obvious that mercy or forbearance had been driven from their breasts, and that a few seconds more would put a bloody end to the unequal contest.

"Spare them, Sidi Hassan," said the Jew in a deeply earnest tone.

"Why should I spare them?" returned the captain quietly; "they deserve to die, and such men would prove to be but troublesome slaves."

The Jew bent towards Hassan's ear and whispered.

"Ha! sayest thou so?" exclaimed the pirate, with a piercing glance at his companion. "May I trust thee, Jew?"

"You may trust me," replied the Jew, apparently quite unmoved by the insolent tones of the other.

"Stand back, men!" cried Hassan, springing between the combatants; "death by sword or pistol is too good for these Christian dogs; we shall reserve them for something better." Then, turning to Francisco, "Lay down your arms."

"We will lay down our arms," answered the bluff merchant, who was not at all sorry to obtain this brief period of breathing-time, "when we have laid you and a few more of your ruffians on the deck."

Hassan turned to his men and gave them an order in the Turkish language.

Several of them hurried aft, and immediately returned, dragging along with them poor Mariano, who was just recovering from the blow given to him by Bacri. On seeing the plight of his father and brother he made a desperate effort to free himself, but quickly found that he was as helpless as a child in the grasp of the three powerful men who held him.

Hassan drew a pistol and put its muzzle to the youth's temple, then, turning to Francisco, said:--

"Lay down your arms, else I scatter his brains on the deck. Take your choice, but see that you be quick about it."

There was that in the pirate captain's tone and look which induced instant compliance. Francisco and his companions, at once laying down their weapons, were seized and had their arms pinioned. Mariano was also bound, and then their conquerors proceeded to clear the decks of the dead and wounded. This was soon accomplished; a prize crew was placed in the schooner; the captives, still pinioned, were transferred to the deck of the pirate-vessel, and there left to do as they pleased, while the captain and Bacri descended to the cabin.

Night soon after descended on the sea, the wind fell almost to a calm, the moon shone round and full in a cloudless sky, and the vessel glided quietly along, while the rascally crew lay conversing and smoking on her deck, many of them bearing marks of the recent conflict, and some sleeping as peacefully as though their hands were guiltless of shedding human blood, and legitimate trade their occupation.

CHAPTER THREE.

REVEALS SOMETHING SURPRISING IN REGARD TO EUROPEAN FORBEARANCE AND PIRATIC IMPUDENCE.

Seated on a gun-carriage, apart from his comrades in sorrow, Francisco Rimini gazed in stern silence upon the moonlit sea, and thought, perchance, of the little old lady with the rippling mouth, and the dark-eyed daughter of his adoption.

"Your fate is a sad one," said a deep voice close to his side.

Francisco started, and looked round with indignant surprise at Bacri.

"None the less sad that a friend has proved false, Jew," he said sternly. "It has never been my custom to call any of your race `dog,' as too many of my creed have done in time past, but I am tempted to change my custom this night."

"To misname me would do you no good and me no harm," replied the Jew gravely. "My race is an accursed one as far as man is concerned, but man's curse is of no more value than his blessing."

"If these arms were free, Bacri," retorted Francisco hotly, "I would teach thee that which would prove anything but a blessing to thy carcase, thou huge caitiff! I had thought better of thee than thou didst deserve.--Go, thy bulky presence is distasteful."

"Wherein have I wronged you?" asked the Jew.

"Wronged me!" exclaimed Francisco, with rising wrath, "art thou not hand and glove with the chief pirate? Thinkest thou that my eyes have lost their power of vision?"

"Truly I am acquainted with the corsair, though the acquaintance was none of my seeking," returned the Jew, "for, as I said before, traders have dealings with many sorts of men; but I did not advise him to attack you, and I could not hinder him."

"Scoundrel!" exclaimed the padrone, "couldst thou not restrain thine hand when it knocked the senses out of my boy Mariano? Wouldst have me believe that thy huge fists are not subject to thy villainous will, or that they acted as they did by mere accident, instead of aiding to repel the pirates?"

"I did it to save his life," replied Bacri, "and not only his, but your own and the lives of all your men. I saw that Mariano was about to prevail, and if he had slain the corsair chief, not one of you would have been alive at this moment."

Francisco's wrath when roused was not readily appeased, nevertheless this statement puzzled him so much that he remained silently gazing at the Jew, from sheer inability to express his feelings.

"Listen," continued Bacri, drawing nearer, and speaking in a lower tone, "the man into whose hands you have fallen is Sidi Hassan, one of the most noted and daring of the pirates on the Barbary coast. Escape from him is impossible. I know him well, and can assure you that your only hope of receiving anything that deserves the title of good treatment depends on your quiet and absolute subjection to his will. Rebellious or even independent bearing will insure your speedy and severe humiliation. We `dogs of Jews,'" continued Bacri, with a sad smile, "may seem to you to hang our heads rather low sometimes, but I have seen Christian men, as bold as you are, crawl upon the very dust before these Turks of Algiers."

"Our fate, then," said Francisco, "is, I suppose, and as I half suspected, to be slavery in that pirates' nest, Algiers?"

"I fear it is," replied the Jew, "unless Providence permits a storm to set you free; but let me correct your notion of Algiers. A pirates' nest it undoubtedly is, but there are others than pirates in the nest, and some of these are even honest men."

"Ha!" exclaimed the padrone, quickly and with bitterness; "is one of these said honest men a Jew of stalwart frame, and does his connexion with the piratical nest free him from the bonds to which I and my sons are doomed?"

"To both questions I answer yes," replied the Jew.

"Then a fig for your honesty, Master Bacri!" said Francisco, with a toss of his head, in lieu of a snap of his fingers, which in the circumstances was impossible, "for I now believe that you knocked Mariano down simply to save the life of your comrade Sidi Hassan, and that you will pocket your own share of my ship and cargo."

"I have not the power to alter your belief," said the Jew quietly, as he turned away and left the unfortunate captive to his meditations.

As the night advanced the wind continued to abate, and when morning broke, the broad breast of the Mediterranean undulated like a sheet of clear glass, on which was gradually revealed the form of a strange vessel becalmed not far from the prize.

As soon as it was sufficiently light to permit of objects being clearly seen, Sidi Hassan fired a gun and showed the Algerine flag.

"Our luck has changed," he said to his first officer, with an air of satisfaction. "Get the boats ready; we will board at once."

"She shows British colours," said the mate, regarding the vessel in question intently through his glass.

"So she does," returned the captain, "but that device won't go down with me. Board her at once, while I bring our broadside to bear."

The mate, with two boats full of armed men, soon pulled alongside the strange sail, and the pirate-vessel was brought round with her broadside to bear by means of long oars or sweeps. In a short time the boats returned with the mortifying intelligence that the papers were all right, and that the vessel, being in truth a British merchantman, was not a legitimate prize. The corsair therefore sailed away under the influence of a light breeze which had arisen.

At the time of which we write, (about sixty years ago), Algiers was under the dominion of Turkey, but exercised all the rights of an independent state. It may be described as a monstrous blot of barbarism hanging on the skirts of civilisation. It was an anomaly too, for it claimed to be an orthodox power, and was recognised as such by the nations of Europe, while in reality its chief power consisted in consummate impudence, founded on pride and ignorance of the strength of other powers, coupled with the peculiarity of its position and with the fact that the great nations were too much engaged fighting with each other to be at leisure to pay attention to it. Its rulers or Deys were most of them ignorant men, who had risen, in many cases, from the ranks of the janissaries or common Turkish soldiery, and its sole occupation was piracy--piracy pure and simple.

It did not, like other powers, find a pretext for war in the righting of a supposed or real wrong. The birds of the Pirates' Nest were much too simple in their grandeur thus to beat about the bush. They went straight to the point. Without any pretext at all they declared war with a nation when they had a mind to plunder it, and straightway set about making prizes of the merchantmen of that nation; at the same time keeping carefully clear of its cruisers. If there had been a tangible grievance, diplomacy might have set it right--but there never was any grievance, either real or imaginary. If there had been a worthy fleet that would come out and face a foe, courage and power might have settled the question--but there was no such fleet. The nest possessed only a few small frigates and a considerable number of boats, large and small, which crept along the northern shores of Africa, and pounced upon unwary traders, or made bold dashes at small villages on the southern shores of Europe and in the isles of the Mediterranean. Trade was horribly hampered by them, though they had no ostensible trade of their own; their influence on southern Europe being comparable only to that of a wasps' nest under one's window, with this difference, that even wasps, as a rule, mind their own business, whereas the Algerine pirates minded the business of everybody else, and called _that_ their own special vocation!

Like other powers, they took prisoners, but instead of exchanging these in times of war and freeing them on return of peace, they made galley-slaves of them all, and held them to ransom. At all times there were hundreds of Christian slaves held in bondage. Even in this present century, so late as 1816, the Algerine Turks held in captivity thousands of Christian slaves of all grades and classes, from all parts of Europe, and these were in many cases treated with a degree of cruelty which is perhaps equalled, but not surpassed, by the deeds recorded of negro slavery; and so hopeless were people as to the power or intention of governments to mend this state of things, that societies were formed in some of the chief countries in the world, including England, France, and America, for the express purpose of ransoming Christian slaves from those dreaded shores of Barbary.

Having said this, the reader will doubtless be prepared to hear that the civilised world, howling with indignation, assailed, burned, and exterminated this pirates' nest. Not at all. The thing was tolerated; more than that, it was recognised! Consuls were actually sent to the nest to represent Great Britain, France, Spain, Portugal, Holland, Sweden, Denmark, America; disgraceful treaties were entered into; and annual tribute was paid by each of these, in the form of a costly "present" to the Dey, for the purpose of securing immunity to their trading vessels! Whatever nation kept a consul at this nest and paid "black-mail" passed scot free. The nation that failed in these respects was ruthlessly and systematically plundered--and this at the time when Lord Nelson was scouring the ocean with mighty armaments; when our songs lauded the wooden walls of old England to the skies; and when Great Britain claimed to herself the proud title of "Mistress of the Sea"! If you doubt this, reader, let us assure you that all history asserts it, that recorded facts confirm it, and that our proper attitude in regard to it is to stand amazed, and admit that there are some things in this curious world which "no fellow can understand."

Without apologising for this digression, we return to the thread of our tale.

Finding, then, as we have said, that the British merchantman was not a legitimate foe, the corsair proceeded to look out for a more worthy object of attack--namely, a vessel of some hapless petty state, which, being too venturesome, or too poor to pay black-mail, was at war, perforce, with the Algerines. Fortune, however, ceased for a short time to be propitious. No suitable vessel was to be found, therefore Sidi Hassan resolved to exercise the rights of the unusually free and independent power of which he was a worthy representative in a somewhat strange fashion.

Bearing down on the coast, he sailed along it for some time, with the intention of making a bold dash at some small fishing village. His mate rather objected to this, knowing well that such attempts were too apt to be attended with considerable loss of life; but Sidi Hassan was not a man to be easily turned from his purpose. The sight of a brig in the offing, however, induced him to run out again to sea. He was soon within hail, and, finding that the vessel was a Sicilian trader, boarded her at once.

No opposition was offered, the brig being totally without arms and her crew small. She, like the vessel of our friend Francisco, was laden with wine and fruit. There were only two passengers on board, but these two were great prizes in Hassan's estimation, being beautiful girls of about seventeen and eighteen respectively. They were sisters--the elder being on her way with her infant son to join her husband in Malta.

Hassan was glad of the opportunity thus thrown in his way of pleasing his master the Dey of Algiers by presenting to him these unfortunates, whose manners and appearance bespoke them ladies, and at once sent them on board his vessel, along with their money and jewels. Their wardrobe was distributed among the pirate crew--the money and jewels being the Dey's perquisite.

"I have a plan in my head," said Hassan to his second in command, "which the capture of this brig has suggested to me. Go, take charge of our vessel, and send me twenty of the best men of our crew fully armed--also a British Union-jack. There is a captain of a port in this neighbourhood against whom I have a special grudge, and to whom I would fain give a free passage to Algiers! so make haste."

The order was soon executed, and the pirate-vessel ordered to remain where she was while the brig stood inshore and sailed along the coast. In a few hours she was off the port above referred to, when she hove-to, hoisted the British flag, and fired a gun. The captain of the port innocently put off to the brig, and in a few minutes found himself and his boat's crew taken captive by the Algerines!

Having thus successfully accomplished his design, Hassan returned to his vessel, put a crew on board the second prize, and, directing his course to Africa made all sail for the port of Algiers.

During the voyage the unfortunate captives saw little of each other, nevertheless Mariano saw enough of the sisters, to create in his breast feelings of the tenderest pity--especially for the younger sister, whom he thought rather pretty than otherwise! As for the Jew, he kept aloof from all the captives, but seemed to have a good understanding with the pirate captain, and to be acquainted with several of his men.

CHAPTER FOUR.

INTRODUCES THE READER TO THE PIRATE CITY, AND TO A FEW OF ITS PECULIARITIES AND PRACTICES.

Permit us now, good reader, to introduce you to the top of a house in Algiers. The roofs of the houses in the Pirate City are flat--a most admirable Eastern peculiarity which cannot be too strongly recommended to Western builders. They are, therefore, available as pleasant "terraces," on which you may rise above your cares, to lounge, and smoke--if afflicted with the latter mania--and sip coffee with your wife, (wives, if you be a Turk), or romp with your children--if not too dignified--or cultivate flowers, or read in a state of elevated serenity, or admire the magnificent view of the blue bay, backed by the bluer Jurjura mountains, with the snow-topped range of the Lesser Atlas beyond. How much wiser thus to utilise one's house-top than to yield it up, rent-free, to cats and sparrows!

Achmet Pasha, the Dey of Algiers at this time, or rather the pirate-king, had a thorough appreciation of the roof of his palace, and spent many hours daily on it, in consultation with his ministers, or in converse with his wives.

As deys went, Achmet was a comparatively respectable man. He thought no more of cutting off a human head than of docking a rat's tail; but then he did not take a particular pleasure in this employment, and was not naturally cruel, which is more than could be said of many of his predecessors. He was also said to be a kind husband and a fond father, but as no one, save the wives and children in question, knew anything of the inner and private life of the palace, this must for ever remain a matter of uncertainty. There was no doubt, however, that he was a tall, handsome, dignified man, in the prime of life, with a stern eye and a pleasant expression of mouth; that, in character, he was bold and resolute; and that, in his jewelled turban, gold-incrusted vestments, and flowing Eastern robes, he looked resplendent.

Courage and resolution were, indeed, qualities without which a Dey of Algiers could scarcely come into existence, because his high position, not being hereditary, was naturally the ambitious goal of all the bold spirits in the Turkish army of janissaries which held the city, with its mixed Arab population, in subjection. The most common mode of a change of government was the strangulation of the reigning Dey by the man who had power and party influence sufficient to enable him to ascend the vacant throne. Sometimes the throne thus obtained was held for only a few days, or even hours, when it chanced that there were several factions of pretty equal power, and two or three men of similar vigour in the army. It is a fact that on more than one occasion three Deys have ascended and sat upon this undesirable throne within twenty-four hours, each having been strangled or having had his head cut off by "the opposition" soon after occupying his predecessor's warm seat!

Achmet, however, had reigned for a considerable period in peace, and was on the whole a popular ruler.

At the time when we introduce him he was pacing the terrace, or roof of the palace, with slow dignified steps, but with a troubled expression of countenance. His chief adviser, Sidi Omar, the Minister of Marine, and one of the most unscrupulous and cunning men in the nest, walked beside him. They were attended and followed by a young but nearly full-grown lion. It was a common thing for the Deys and his chief officers to keep lion-pups as pets, but as a rule these were chained up on becoming too large to be safe playthings. Achmet, however, being of a bold, reckless nature, seemed to enjoy the occasional symptoms of alarm betrayed by his attendants at sight of his overgrown pup, and kept it by him until, as we have said, it was nearly full-grown. He appeared to have no idea of personal danger. Possibly he did not believe the huge playful brute to be capable of mischief. Perhaps he felt confident in the keen edge of his Damascene scimitar, and in the power of his arm to lop off even leonine heads. Whatever may have been the truth on this point, his ease and indifference were evidently not shared by Sidi Omar.

That sly individual was a strong-bodied, middle-aged Turk of commanding presence but sinister countenance, which latter was damaged by the loss of an eye and a sabre-cut across the nose.

"I have been asked," said Omar, continuing a conversation which had already lasted some time, "to beg that your highness will grant an audience to the Spanish consul; he claims as countrywomen the two ladies who have been just brought in by Sidi Hassan, but I advise that you should refuse him."

"Why so?" asked Achmet.

"Because, although there is, I believe, some ground for his claim, the investigation of the question will only occasion useless trouble, as he is unable to prove his case."

"Nay, then, your last reason seems to me in favour of granting an audience," returned the Dey, "for if his plea be insufficient I shall thus appear to be desirous of furthering justice without suffering loss. It is always wise to act with urbanity when it costs one nothing."

Achmet smiled, and a gleam of mischievous fun twinkled in his eyes as he observed his minister cast a furtive glance, suggestive of anything but urbanity, at the lion, which had playfully brushed its tail against his leg in passing.

"Your highness's judgment is always just," returned Sidi Omar; "and were we desirous of maintaining peace with Spain at present, it would be right to propitiate their consul; but, as you are aware, the treaties which we have recently formed with various nations are not to our advantage. The peace recently forced upon us by America has stopped suddenly the annual flow of a very considerable amount of tribute, (see Note 1), and the constant efforts made by that nation of ill-favoured dogs, the British, to bring about peace between us and Portugal will, I fear, soon dry up another source of revenue, if things go on as they have been doing of late, it is plain to me that we shall soon be at peace with all the world, and be under the necessity of turning our hands to farming or some such work for a livelihood!"

"Fear not, Sidi Omar," replied the Dey, with a short laugh, "this fair and ancient city has lived too long by war to be capable of condescending now to arts of peace. We shall have no difficulty in picking a quarrel with any nation that seems most desirable when our coffers begin to grow empty--in regard to which, let us be thankful, they show no signs at present. But have a care, Omar, how you speak disrespectfully of the British. They are apt, like their representative at your heels, to spring when you least expect it, and they have powerful claws and teeth. Besides, they are my very good friends, and some of their statesmen have a great regard for me. Being at war, as you know, with some of the most powerful European nations just now, they know that I do them good service in the Mediterranean by rendering trade difficult and hazardous to all except those with whom I am at peace. Spain being on friendly terms with us at present, I will receive the Spanish consul. Go, let him know my pleasure, and see that thou hast my scrivano instilled with all requisite information to refute him."

Sidi Omar bowed low, and retired without venturing a reply. At the same time a man of curious aspect stepped from the doorway which conducted from the terrace to the lower parts of the house. His Eastern costume was almost equal to that of the Dey in magnificence, but there was a tinselly look about the embroidery, and a glassy sheen in the jewels, which, added to the humorous and undignified cast of his countenance, bespoke him one of low degree. He was the Dey's story-teller, and filled much the same office at the palace that was held by court jesters in the olden time. The presence of some such individual in Achmet's court, even in the first quarter of the present century, was rendered necessary by the fact that the Dey himself had risen from the ranks, and was an illiterate man.

Advancing towards his master with a freedom that no other domestic of the palace would have dared to assume, he, with affected solemnity, demanded an audience.

"I cannot refuse it, Hadji Baba, seeing that thou dost swagger into my presence unbidden," said Achmet, with a smile, as he sat down in the usual oriental fashion--cross-legged on a low couch--and patted the head of the noble animal which he had chosen as his companion, and which appeared to regard him with the affection of a dog--

"What may be your news?"

"I have no news," replied Baba, with humility. "News cannot be conveyed to one who knows all things, by one who is a dog and knows nothing."

"Thou knowest at all events how to look well after that which concerns thyself," replied the Dey. "What hast thou to say to me?"

"That the man with the proboscis, who struts when he walks, and snivels when he speaks, desires a favour of your highness."

"Speak not in riddles," returned the Dey sharply. "I have no time to waste with thee to-day. Say thy say and be gone."

Hadji Baba, who was indeed thoroughly alive to his own interest, was much too prudent to thwart the humour of his master. Briefly, though without changing his tone or manner, he informed him that the Spanish consul awaited his pleasure below.

"Let him wait," said the Dey, resuming the pipe which for some minutes he had laid aside, and caressing the lion's head with the other hand.

"May I venture to say that he seems anxious?" added the story-teller.

"How much did he give thee for thus venturing to interrupt me, at the risk of thy head?" demanded the Dey sternly.

"Truly," replied the jester, with a rueful air, "not much more than would buy gold thread to sew my head on again, were your highness pleased to honour me by cutting it off."

"Be gone, caitiff," said the Dey, with a slight smile.

Baba vanished without further reply.

Meanwhile Sidi Omar left the palace and directed his steps to his own quarters, which stood on the little fortified island in front of Algiers. This islet, having been connected with the mainland by a pier or neck of masonry about a hundred yards long, formed the insignificant harbour which gave shelter to the navy of small craft owned by the pirates. At the present day the French have constructed there a magnificent harbour, of which that now referred to is a mere corner in the vicinity of the old light-house. Although small, the port was well fortified, and as the Minister of Marine descended towards it, his eye glanced with approval over the double and treble tiers of guns which frowned from its seaward battlements. In passing over the connecting pier, Sidi Omar paused to observe a gang of slaves at work repairing some of the buildings which covered the pier stretching from the mainland to the island.

Although slaves, they were not of the black colour or thick-lipped, flat-nosed aspect which we are apt to associate with the name of slave. They were, indeed, burnt to the deepest brown, and many of them also blistered, by the sun, but they were all "white men," and contemptuously styled, by their Mohammedan task-masters, Christians. The pier on which they wrought had been constructed long before by thirty thousand such slaves; and the Algerine pirates, for above three centuries previous to that, had expended the lives of hundreds of thousands of them in the building of their fortifications and other public works; in the cultivation of their fields and gardens, and in the labours of their domestic drudgery.

Some of the slaves thus observed by the Minister of Marine had been sailors and merchants and mechanics, military and naval officers, clerks, scholars, and other gentlefolks from Italy, Portugal, America, and all the lands which chanced to be "at war" with his highness the Dey. Formerly there had been hosts of English, French, Spanish, etcetera, but their governments having bowed their heads, opened their purses, and sent consuls to the piratical city, they were now graciously exempted from thraldom. It was hardish work for men accustomed to cooler climates to be obliged, in the sunshine of an African summer, to harness themselves to carts like oxen, and lift huge stones and hods of mortar with little more than a ragged shirt and trousers to cover them from the furnace-heat of day or the dews of night. Men who carry umbrellas and wear puggeries now-a-days on the Boulevard de la Republique of Algiers have but a faint conception of what some of their forefathers endured down at the "Marina" not much more than fifty years ago, and of what they themselves could endure, perhaps, if fairly tried! It must not be supposed, however, that all the slaves stood the trial equally well. Some were old, others were young; some were feeble, others strong; all were more or less worn--some terribly so.

Yonder old man carrying the block of stone which might tax the energies of a stout youth, and to whom a taskmaster has just administered a cut with the driving-whip, looks like one who has seen better days. Even in his ragged shirt, broken-brimmed straw hat, and naked feet, he looks like a gentleman. So he is; and there is a gentle lady and a stout son, and two sweet daughters, in Naples, who are toiling almost as hard as he does--if hours be allowed to count for pains--in order to make up his ransom. The strong bull-necked man that follows him with a hod of mortar is an unmistakable seaman of one of the Mediterranean ports. He is a desperate character, and in other lands might be dangerous; but he is safe enough here, for the bastinado is a terrible instrument of torture, and the man is now not only desperate in wrath, but is sometimes desperately frightened. His driver takes a fiendish pleasure in giving him an extra cut of the whip, just to make him apparently a willing horse, whether he will or not. The poor youth beside him is a very different character. His training has been more gentle, and his constitution less robust, for he has broken down under the cruel toil, and is evidently in the last stages of consumption. The taskmaster does not now interfere with him as he was wont to do when he first arrived. He knows that the day is not far distant when neither the bastinado nor any other species of torture will have power to force work out of him. He also knows that overdriving will only shorten the days of his usefulness; he therefore wisely lets him stagger by unmolested, with his light load.

But why go on enumerating the sorrows of these slaves? Sidi Omar looked at them with a careless glance, until he suddenly caught sight of something that caused his eyes to flash and his brows to contract. A sbirro, or officer of justice, stood near him, whether by chance or otherwise we know not. Touching the sbirro on the shoulder, he pointed to a group under the shade of an archway, and said in a low tone--

"Go, fetch hither that scoundrel Blindi."

The sbirro at once stepped towards the group, which consisted of two persons. One was an old, apparently dying, slave; the other was a strong middle-aged man, in a quaint blue gown, who knelt by his side, and poured something from a flask into his mouth.

The sbirro seized this man rudely by the neck, and said--

"Get up, Blindi, and come along with me." Laying the head of the old man gently on the ground, and rising with some wrath, Blindi demanded, in English so broken that we find difficulty in mending it sufficiently to be presented to the reader--

"Wot for you means by dat?"

"Speak your mother tongue, you dog, and make haste, for the Minister of Marine wants you."

"Oh! mos' awfrul," exclaimed Blindi, turning pale, and drawing his blue garment hastily round him, as he meekly followed the officer of justice--whose chief office, by the way, was to administer injustice.

The man whom we have styled Blindi was a somewhat peculiar character. He was an Algerine by birth, but had served several years in the British navy, and had acquired a smattering of the English language--forecastle English, as a matter of course. In consequence of this, and of having lost an eye in the service, he had obtained a pension, and the appointment of interpreter to all his Britannic Majesty's ships visiting Algiers. He dwelt at the harbour, or Marina, where he excited the wonder and admiration of all the Turks and Moors by his volubility in talking English. He was a man of no small importance, in his own estimation, and was so proud of his powers as a linguist that he invariably interlarded his converse with English phrases, whether he was addressing Turk, Jew, or Christian. Lingua Franca--a compound of nearly all the languages spoken on the shores of the Mediterranean--was the tongue most in use at the Marina of Algiers at that time, but as this would be unintelligible to our reader, we will give Blindi's conversations in his favourite language. What his real name was we have failed to discover. The loss of his eye had obtained for him in the navy the name of Blind Bob. In his native city this was Italianised into Blindi Bobi. But Bobi was by no means blind of the other eye. It was like seven binocular glasses rolled into one telescope. Once he had unfortunately brought it to bear on the Minister of Marine with such a concentrated stare that he, being also blind of an eye, regarded it as a personal allusion thereto, and never forgave Blindi Bobi.

"This is the second time," said Omar, when the culprit was brought before him, "that I have caught you interfering with the slaves."

"Please, sar, hims was werry bad--dyin', me s'pose."

"Speak your own tongue, dog, else you shall smart for it," said the Minister of Marine, with increasing wrath.

The poor interpreter to his Britannic Majesty's navy repeated his words in the Lingua Franca, but Omar, again interrupting him, ordered the sbirro to take him off and give him the bastinado.

"And have a care, Blindi," added Omar, observing that the interpreter was about to speak; "if you say that you are under the protection of the British consul I'll have you flayed alive.--Off with him!"

The sbirro, with a comrade, led Bobi through several of the narrow streets of the town to a chamber which was set apart for the infliction of punishment. It was a dark, vaulted apartment under a public building. The massive pillars of stone which supported its roof looked pale and ghostlike against the thick darkness which was beyond them, giving the idea of interminable space. One of the sbirros lighted a lantern, and led the way through a massive door, all studded with huge nails, into a small square chamber, the walls of which looked as if they had been bespattered with a dark-brown liquid, especially in the neighbourhood of several iron rings, from which chains depended. In addition to these and a number of other characteristic implements, there was a pile of blood-stained rods in a corner.

Saying a few words to a powerful negro whom they found in attendance, the sbirros handed Blindi Bobi over to him. He instantly disrobed him of his blue gown, and threw him on his back with the aid of an equally powerful assistant, and began to uncover his stomach.

The interpreter was no coward. He had prepared himself to endure manfully the bastinado on the soles of his feet--as it was usually administered--but when he perceived that they were about to inflict the blows on a more tender part of his body, he trembled and remonstrated.

"Sidi Omar no' say you hit 'im dare. Hims 'peal to British consil--"

Thus far he spoke, from the force of habit, in his adopted tongue, but fear speedily drove him to that of his mother.

All tongues, however, were alike to the negroes, who, rendered callous from long service against their will in a brutalising office, went about their preparations with calm and slow indifference.

Just as they were about to begin, one of the sbirros, who had a personal regard for Bobi, spoke a few words to one of the negroes, who immediately turned Blindi Bobi on his face and firmly raised his feet so that the naked soles were turned upwards. The other negro applied one of the rods thereto with all his might. For a few seconds the poor sufferer uttered no sound, but at last he gave vent to an irresistible yell. At a sign from the chief sbirro the punishment was stopped, and Bobi was released and allowed to rise.

Conducting him to the door, the sbirro thrust him into the street, flung his blue gown after him, and advised him to beware of again rousing the wrath of Sidi Omar.

Blindi Bobi was far too well acquainted with the cruelties perpetrated continually in the pirate city to be ignorant of the fact that he had got off with a light punishment, yet we fear that did not cause him to entertain much gratitude to Sidi Omar as he limped back to his quarters at the Marina.

Arrived there, he observed that the sick old man still lay where he had left him. Running towards him with a sudden impulse, he drew forth his flask, knelt down, raised the old man's head and gave him a long hearty draught, after which he took another to himself.

"Derre!" he said, rising and shaking his fist defiantly in the direction in which Sidi Omar dwelt, "I's revenged on you--brute! bah! boo-o!"

After this relief to his feelings Blindi Bobi went home to attend to his poor feet.

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Note 1. In 1795 the Americans concluded peace with the Algerians by the payment of half a million piastres, and an annual tribute of 24,000 piastres.

CHAPTER FIVE.

SHOWS THE LIGHT IN WHICH CONSULS WERE REGARDED BY PIRATES, AND TELLS OF A CRUEL SEPARATION AND A STUNNING BLOW.

Seated on a throne in a recess of the audience-chamber of the palace, Achmet Pasha at length condescended to receive Don Pedro, the representative of Spain.

The Dey was robed in barbaric splendour, and absolutely shone with gold embroidery and precious stones. Centuries of robbery on the high seas had filled the treasury of the pirates' nest to overflowing, not only with hard cash, but with costly gems of all kinds, hence there was a lavish expenditure of jewellery on the costumes of the Dey and his wives and courtiers.

The recess in which he sat had a dome-ceiling, of workmanship so elaborate that there was not a square inch of unadorned stucco on any part of it. It was lighted partly from the roof by means of four minute windows, of yellow, crimson, green, and blue glass. The walls were decorated with coloured china tiles, and the floor was paved with white marble.

In front of the throne or elevated dais couched the magnificent lion which we have already mentioned. It was the Dey's whim to use this animal as a footstool on all public occasions, much to the annoyance of his courtiers and household, who felt, although they did not dare to express it, considerable anxiety lest it should take a sudden fancy to feed on human flesh.

Behind the Dey stood several guards, two of whom were negroes.

Don Pedro bowed low on being admitted, and the lion, raising his head, uttered a low growl, which had something distantly thunderous in the tone. Being apparently satisfied that the Don was a friend, it again laid its chin on its paws and appeared to go to sleep.

The Spanish consul was a fine-looking, dignified man, with a nose sufficiently prominent to account for the irreverent reference made to it by Hadji Baba, the story-teller.

In a few words he stated his case touching the female captives recently brought in by Sidi Hassan, and claimed that, as Spanish subjects, they should be set free and placed under his care.

"What proof can you give," demanded the Dey, "that these ladies are really the subjects of Spain?"

"Alas!" replied Don Pedro, "I have no means of verifying what I say; but I feel assured that your highness will not doubt my word, when I say that, while in my own land, I knew the family to which they belong."

"That is not sufficient," returned the Dey. "From all that I can learn, their father lived and died and they were born, in Sicily, and the eldest is the wife of an Italian merchant, who will doubtless be glad to pay a good ransom to get her and his little infant back. As to the sister, we can find room for her in the palace, if she be not ransomed. Besides, Monsieur le Console,"--here the Dey spoke sternly--"your word is not a good guarantee. Did you not give me your word three months ago that your government would pay the six thousand dollars which are still due to us? Why has not this promise been fulfilled?"

"It grieves me, your highness," replied Don Pedro, with a mortified look, "that this debt has not yet been discharged, but I can assure you that I have communicated with my Sovereign on the subject and have no doubt that a satisfactory explanation and reply will be sent to you without delay."

"It is to be hoped that such may be the case, for I give you _my_ word-- and you may safely rely on _it_--that if the cash is not sent to me immediately I will send you to work in chains in the quarries with the other slaves.--Go, let your Sovereign know my intention as speedily as may be."

Lest the reader should be surprised to hear of any consul being thus cavalierly treated, it may be well to explain that the barbarians, who were thus unworthily honoured in being recognised by the European powers at all, were grossly ignorant of the usages of civilised nations, and of the sacred character in which the persons and families of consuls are held. The Deys of Algiers were constantly in the habit of threatening the consuls themselves with flagellation and death, in order to obtain what they desired from their respective governments, and sometimes even carried their threats into execution--as an instance of which we may cite the well-authenticated fact that when the French Admiral Duquesne bombarded Algiers, the consul and twenty-two other Frenchmen were sent out to the fleet in small pieces--blown from the mouths of cannon! True, this was in the year 1683, but up to the very end of their bloody and ferocious domination, the Deys maintained their character for ignorance and barbarity--evidence of which shall be given in the sequel of our tale.

When Don Pedro had been thus ignominiously dismissed, Sidi Hassan was sent for by the Dey. This man was one of the most turbulent characters in the city, and the Dey thought it his wisest policy to secure his friendship if possible by mingling kindness with severity. In the event of this course failing, he comforted himself with the reflection that it would not be difficult to get rid of him by the simple, and too frequently used, process of strangulation. The knowledge that Hassan was a favourite among the Turkish troops prevented his at once adopting the latter method.

He was all urbanity and smiles, therefore, when the pirate captain obeyed his summons. He thanked him for the two pretty slave-girls he had brought in, commended him for his success in taking prizes, and added that he had appointed him to fill the office of attendant janissary upon the British consul.

Up to this point Sidi Hassan had listened with satisfaction, but the appointment just offered seemed to him so contemptible that he had difficulty in dissembling his feelings. The knowledge, however, that his despotic master held his life in his hand, induced him to bow and smile, as if with gratitude.

"And now," said the Dey, "I have a commission for you. Go to the British consul, tell him of your appointment, and present him with my compliments and with the eldest slave-girl and her infant as a gift from me. Paulina is her name, is it not?"

"Yes, your highness--Paulina Ruffini, and the sister's name is Angela Diego."

"Good. Angela you may keep to yourself," continued the Dey, as coolly as if he had been talking of a silver snuff-box.

Hassan again bowed and smiled, and again had to constrain his countenance to express gratification, though he was not a little disgusted with Achmet's indifference to the captive girls.

Leaving the palace in a state of high indignation, he resolved to sell Angela in the public market, although by so doing he could not hope to gain so much as would have been the case were he to have disposed of her by private bargain. Thus, with strange perversity, does an angry man often stand in the way of his own interests.

We need scarcely say that, when their fate was announced to the unhappy sisters, they were plunged into a state of wild grief, clung to each other's necks, and refused to be separated.

Little did Sidi Hassan care for their grief. He tore them asunder, locked Paulina up with her infant, and led the weeping Angela to the slave-market, which was in the immediate neighbourhood of one of the largest mosques of the city.

This mosque, named Djama Djedid, still stands, under the name of the Mosquee de la Pecherie, one of the most conspicuous and picturesque buildings in Algiers. It was built in the seventeenth century by a Genoese architect, a slave, who, unfortunately for himself built it in the form of a cross, for which he was put to death by the reigning Dey. In front of the northern door of this mosque the narrow streets of the city gave place to a square, in which was held the market for Christian slaves.

Here might be seen natives of almost every country--men and women and children of all ages and complexions, civilised and uncivilised, gentle and simple--exposed for sale; while turbaned Turks, Moors in broad-cloth burnouses and gay vestments, Jews in dark costume, Arabs from the desert, and men of nondescript garments and character, moved about, criticising, examining, buying, and selling.

Just as Sidi Hassan reached the market, a gang of Christian slaves were halted near the door of the mosque. It was evening. They had been toiling all day at the stone-quarries in the mountains, and were now on their way, weary, ragged, and foot-sore, to the Bagnio, or prison, in which were housed the public slaves--those not sold to private individuals, but retained by government and set to labour on the public works.

A few of these slaves wore ponderous chains as a punishment for having been unruly--the others were unshackled. Among them stood our unfortunate friends Francisco Rimini and his sons Lucien and Mariano-- but ah! how changed! Only two days had elapsed since their arrival, yet their nearest friends might have failed to recognise them, so dishevelled were they, and their faces so covered with dust and perspiration. For their own garments had been substituted ragged shirts and loose Turkish drawers reaching to below the knee. Old straw hats covered their heads, but their lower limbs and feet were naked; where not stained by blood and dust, the fairness of their skins showed how little they had been used to such exposure. Lucien's countenance wore an expression of hopeless despair; that of his father, which was wont to look so bluff and hearty, now betrayed feelings of the tenderest pity, as if he had forgotten his own sufferings in those of his children. Mariano, on the contrary, looked so stubborn and wicked that no one could have believed it possible he had ever been a gay, kindly, light-hearted youth! Poor fellow! his high spirit had been severely tried that day, but evidently not tamed, though the blood on the back of his shirt showed that his drivers had made vigorous attempts to subdue him. During the heat of the day Lucien had grown faint from toil and hunger, and had received a cruel lash from one of their guardians. This had roused Mariano. He had sprung to avenge the blow, had been seized by three powerful men, lashed until he became insensible, and, on recovering, had been forced to continue his toil of carrying stones until not only all the strength, but apparently all the spirit, was taken out of him.

From this condition he was reviving slightly when he reached the market-place, and, as his strength returned, the firm pressure of his lips and contraction of his brows increased.

The slave-drivers were not slow to observe this, and two of them took the precaution to stand near him. It was at this critical moment that the poor youth suddenly beheld Angela Diego led into the market--more interesting and beautiful than ever in her sorrow--to be sold as a slave.

Mariano had been deeply touched by the sorrow and sad fate of the sisters when he first saw them on board the pirate-vessel. At this sight of the younger sister, prudence, which had retained but a slight hold of him during the day, lost command altogether. In a burst of uncontrollable indignation he sent one of his guards crashing through the open doorway of the mosque, drove the other against the corner of a neighbouring house, rushed towards Sidi Hassan, and delivered on the bridge of that hero's nose a blow that instantly laid him flat on the ground. At the same moment he was seized by a dozen guards, thrown down, bound, and carried off to the whipping-house, where he was bastinadoed until he felt as if bones and flesh, were one mass of tingling jelly. In this state, almost incapable of standing or walking, he was carried to the Bagnio, and thrown in among the other prisoners.

While Mariano was being conveyed away, Sidi Hassan arose in a half-stupefied condition from the ground. Fortunately he was ignorant of who had knocked him down, and why he had been so treated, or he might have vented his wrath on poor Angela.

Just at that moment he was accosted by Bacri the Jew--a convenient butt on whom to relieve himself; for the despised Israelites were treated with greater indignity in Algiers at that time than perhaps in any other part of the earth.

"Dog," said he fiercely, "hast thou not business enough of thine own in fleecing men, that thou shouldst interfere with me?"

"Dog though I may be," returned Bacri, with gravity, but without a touch of injured feeling, "I do not forget that I promised you four thousand dollars to spare the Christians, and it is that which induces me to intrude on you now."

"Humph!" ejaculated Hassan, somewhat mollified; "I verily believe that thou hast some interested and selfish motive at the bottom. However, that business is thine, not mine."

"Whether my motive be interested or not you are well able to judge," returned Bacri gently, "for the slaves are poor and helpless; they are also Christians, and you know well that the Jews have no love for the Christians; in which respect it seems to me that they bear some resemblance to the men of other creeds."

Sidi Hassan felt that there was an intended sarcasm in the last remark, but the thought of the dollars induced him to waive further discussion.

"Do you wish to sell the girl?" said Bacri in a casual way, as though it had just occurred to him.

"Ay, but I must have a good price for her," replied the Turk.

"Name it," said the Jew; "my wife has need of a handmaiden just now."

Hassan named a sum much larger than he had any expectation the Jew would give. To his surprise, the other at once agreed to it.

"Why, Bacri," he said, with a smile, as with his right hand he tenderly caressed his injured nose, "you must have been more than usually successful in swindling of late."

"God has recently granted me more than deserved prosperity," returned the other.

Without further palaver the bargain was struck. Hassan accompanied the Jew to his residence in one of the quaint Moorish houses of the old town. Angela was handed over to Bacri's wife, a pleasant-visaged woman of forty, and Hassan returned home with his pockets well lined, his nose much swelled, and his temper greatly improved.

Bethinking him of the Dey's commands, he set out with Paulina and her infant for the residence of the British consul, which lay a short distance outside the northern wall of the town, not far from the bluff height on which, at the present day, towers the picturesque pile of Notre-Dame d'Afrique.

CHAPTER SIX.

SENDS A GLEAM OF HOPE INTO A GLOOMY REGION.

The short twilight of southern latitudes was giving place to the shades of night, when Bacri the Jew issued from the low door of his house, and threaded the narrow labyrinth of streets which compose the old town of Algiers.

The greater part of the old, or, as it is styled, the Moorish town, remains almost exactly the same at the present time that it was at the time of which our tale treats. It occupied the face of a steep hill, and was built in the form of a triangle, the apex being a fort, or "casba," near the summit of the hill. The base was a street of oriental houses upwards of half a mile in extent, beyond which the sea-wall, well lined with batteries, rose directly from the beach, and was washed by the spray in every breeze. All the houses facing the sea have now been taken down, and their places are occupied by wide handsome streets of French buildings; the beach and the site of the old wall being occupied by splendid quays, wharves, and terraces.

The houses of the Moorish town were square white-washed blocks, built so close to each other that most of the streets were mere lanes, not more than from six to ten feet wide. No windows worthy of the name garnished the dead white walls of these houses, whose light sprang in reality from within, each house being in the form of a square of building surrounding a central court, which at the top was open to the weather. The real windows of the houses looked into the courts, which, however, were by no means dismal. They had fountains in the midst of them, which sent up a perpetual--and, in such a climate, grateful--sound of trickling water; while in their corners and elsewhere boxes of earth enabled banana-trees, and palms, and various creepers, to convert the little spots into delightful, though miniature, gardens. Such windows as opened outwards were mere loop-holes, not much more than a foot square-- many of them less,--the larger of them being always strongly grated. Most of these houses projected beyond their basement storeys, thus rendering the open space above narrower than the streets below, and in many cases the walls absolutely met, and converted the streets into tunnels. Strange wooden props, seemingly insufficient for their duty, upheld these projecting upper storeys, and gave a peculiarly un-European character to the streets,--a character which became still more perplexing to the stranger when he observed here and there, in places where architecture had scarcely space or light to be seen, fountains of the most elegant design and workmanship; doorways of white marble, most elaborately and beautifully carved; and entrance-halls that resembled courts of the Alhambra in miniature.

When one first sees such things they induce surprise, but the surprise evaporates when we reflect that these pirates had at their command the services of thousands of slaves, many of whom represented the artistic talent of the civilised world.

Passing rapidly along these narrow streets, and bending his tall form when he came to low archways, Bacri at length emerged on the chief "high street" of the town, which, entering at the north, or Bab-el-Oued gate, completely traversed the city under that name as far as the Dey's palace, where it changed its name to Bab-Azoun, and terminated at the south gate of the same name.

In this street was the Bagnio, already mentioned as being the prison of the government slaves.

Here Bacri paused, drew a glittering coin from his pocket, and knocked at a strong oaken door. A janissary opened, and roughly demanded his business, but changed his tone at once and gave the Jew admission, on receiving the coin.

Passing though a lobby, whose marble pillars were sadly broken and disfigured, the Jew entered a courtyard, open to the sky, around which were a number of recesses or cells. In these the unhappy slaves sat huddled together. They were not cold, for it was summer; but their misery and want of space probably induced them to cling closely to each other.

The place had once been a bathing establishment, and an old fountain still gurgled in the centre of the court; but its drains had been choked long ago, and the waters had overflowed, to find exit as they best might, rendering the floor a damp and uncomfortable residence for scorpions, centipedes, and other repulsive insects.

The slaves received only two small rolls of black bread as their rations at the close of each day, and they were too eagerly engaged in devouring these to pay much regard to their visitor.

Looking carefully round, the Jew at length discovered the objects of his search,--Francisco, Lucien, and Mariano Rimini. The two first were seated side by side, eating their meagre meal. Mariano lay near them, heavily laden with irons, and also endeavouring to eat.

"Friends," said Bacri, approaching them.

"Villain!" cried Mariano, starting up into a reclining attitude, despite the agony that the act occasioned, and fixing his eyes on the Jew.

"You do me injustice, young man," said Bacri, seating himself on the basement of a pillar.

"It may be that he does you injustice," said Lucien sternly, "nevertheless we have all of us good reason to believe that you are a friend of the pirate Hassan, and no friend of ours."

"Whether friend or foe, say thy say, man, and be gone," cried the bluff Francisco, whose spirit suffered even more than his body from the indignities to which he had been subjected that day.

"Listen, then," said Bacri impressively. "You know my name and nation, but you do not know that I am the chief of the Jews in this city of devils. I and my people are regarded by these followers of Mohammed as worse than the dogs in their streets, yet, while they treat us with the utmost indignity, they know that we are good traders, and as such bring riches within their walls. I have power--the power of wealth--to help you at a pinch; indeed I _have_ helped you, for it was only by means of a promise of gold that I induced Sidi Hassan to spare your lives when his men were bent on taking them. But that is not what I came to tell you to-night. I came to say that the poor captive girls with whom you voyaged to this place are for the present out of danger."

"Say you so?" exclaimed Mariano eagerly. "How can that be? Did I not see Angela led to the slave-market this very afternoon?"

"You did, and I purchased her for the purpose of protecting her. She is now in my house. Her sister and the infant have been sent as a temporary gift or loan to the British consul, under whose care she is safe _for the present_. But be not too sanguine," added Bacri, seeing that Mariano's countenance brightened; "the whim of the Dey, or a change of government, which latter is common enough here, may totally alter the state of affairs. If the Dey willed it, I could not hold anything that belongs to me for an hour. They call us dogs, and treat us as such."

"They are themselves dogs!" cried Mariano indignantly.

"Christians have called us by the same name," returned the Jew calmly, "thereby proving the falsity of their own faith."

"Say not so!" cried Lucien with animation. "Many, calling themselves Christians, have undoubtedly treated your race ill, but those who really love the Lord Jesus cannot help respecting the people from whom Himself sprang. I side not with those who disgrace themselves by vilifying the Jews."

Lucien extended his hand as he spoke, and Bacri grasped it kindly.

"Bah! you are fools; all of you arrant idiots!" cried a wild-looking ragged man in the neighbouring cell, starting up and glaring at them as he clenched his fists. "What avails Christianity, or Judaism, or anything else here? 'Tis a world of fiends!--ha, ha! murderers, tormentors, hypocrites,--ha! ha!"

Here the man gave vent to a burst of wild ferocious laughter, so loud that even the careless and callous warder was disturbed, and rattled his keys as if about to enter. The sound appeared to send a chill to the heart of the captive; an expression of terror overspread his thin haggard features, and he shrunk together as he retired quickly to the remotest corner of his cell.

"A maniac, I fear," said Francisco in a low tone, observing that the Jew regarded him with a look of pity.

"No, not quite mad," replied Bacri in the same low tone, "but sometimes very near it, I think. Poor man, I know him well. He has been fifteen years a prisoner in Algiers. When first brought here he was as fine a specimen of a Genoese youth as I ever saw. His name is Lorenzo Benoni. He was captured with his wife and two children, all of whom died before the first year was out. Of course, although in the same city, he was never again permitted to see wife or children. He was very dangerous at first, attacking and nearly killing his guards whenever he got a chance, and frequently attempting to take his own life, so that they were obliged to make him work constantly in heavy irons, and, I need scarcely add, bastinadoed and tortured him until his body became a mass of bruises from head to foot. They subdued him, in the course of years, to a condition of callous and brutal indifference to everything, and at last his great strength began to give way. He is now considered incapable of doing much injury to any one, and seems almost tamed. The Turks think that this has been brought about by sickness and starvation; it may be partly so, but I cannot help thinking that, despite the contempt which, in a sudden burst of passion, he poured on it just now, religion has something to do with it, for I have noticed a considerable change in him since he began to listen to the voice of an old man who has been a true friend of the poor slaves since long before I came here. The old man professes, at least he teaches, your religion; but I know not to what sect he belongs. Indeed, I think he belongs to none. This, however, am I sure of, that he holds equally by our Scriptures and your Testament as being the whole Word of God."

The three captives listened to this narration with sinking hearts, for it opened up a glimpse of the terrible and hopeless future that lay before themselves, so that for some time they sat gazing in silence at their visitor, and at the miserable beings who were devouring the last crumbs of their black bread around them.

"I came to see you," continued Bacri, "partly to assure you of the comparative safety of the girls who interested us all so much on board the vessel of Sidi Hassan, and partly to say that I will do what lies in my power to alleviate your sad condition. With Lucien's education and knowledge of languages, it may be possible to get him into the immediate service of the Dey, in which case he will be able to aid his father and brother."

"Have you, then, much influence with the Dey?" asked Francisco.

"None," replied the Jew, with a sad smile. "I have already told you that the pirates detest us; that we are tolerated only because of our money-making powers, and the ease with which they can bleed us when they want gold. But I have some influence with others in the city who have power to move the Dey. There is one thing, however," here the Jew glanced pointedly at Mariano, "in regard to which I would give you most earnest counsel, namely, that you should at once dismiss all idea of rebellion. It will be utterly unavailing. You may, like the caged lion, if you will, dash yourselves to death against your prison bars, but you cannot break them. Countless thousands of bold and brave spirits have attempted this plan, with no good result, in time past. The Turks are well acquainted with and quite prepared for it. Your only chance of mitigating the woes of your condition lies in submission."

"It were better and nobler to die than to submit," said Mariano gloomily.

"It were better and nobler to bow to the will of the Almighty than to commit suicide," retorted Bacri, somewhat sternly. "It is selfishness and pride which induces us to seek deliverance from sorrow and suffering in death. There are men who have thought that truest nobility lay in choosing a life in the midst of suffering and woe for the purpose of alleviating it, and who have acted on their opinion. This lesson, however, is not so frequently learnt by us through precept as in the school of sorrow."

Mariano felt abashed, yet at the same time rather nettled.

"Truly, then," he said, with a glance at his blood-stained shirt, "it seems to me that I have at all events begun my lesson in the right school. However, I believe thou art right, Bacri, and I bear thee no ill-will for the rap thou didst bestow on my skull, which, luckily, is a thick one, else thy ponderous fist had split it from the cranium to the chin."

"We had misjudged you, Bacri," said Francisco, extending his hand, as the Jew rose to depart.

"We will lay your advice to heart; and we thank you, meanwhile, for coming to see us in this foul den, which I dislike less because of moisture and dirt--these being familiar to me--than because of the lively reptiles which hold their nightly revels in it."

There was mingled humour and bitterness in Francisco's tone, as he uttered this sentence, which he concluded with a heavy sigh. Immediately after, the rusty bolts of their prison-door grated harshly on their ears, and they listened sadly to the retreating footsteps of one whom they now esteemed their only friend, as they died away in the distance.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

SOME NEW CHARACTERS WALK, GLIDE, AND FURIOUSLY GALLOP INTO THE TALE, AND OTHERWISE INTRODUCE THEMSELVES TO NOTICE.

In the interior court of a beautiful Moorish villa not far from the city, sat Mrs Langley, wife of Colonel Langley, British consul at the "Court" of Algiers.

The lady of whom we write was unusually romantic, for her romance consisted of a deep undercurrent of powerful but quiet enthusiasm, with a pretty strong surface-flow of common-sense. Her husband was a man of noble mind and commanding presence--a magnificent representative John Bull, with the polish of a courtier and the principles of a Christian; one who had been wisely chosen to fill a very disagreeable post, full of responsibility and danger.

On a stool at the feet of Mrs Langley sat a sunny second edition of herself, about eight years of age, named Agnes. In the cradle which Agnes had formerly occupied reposed a remarkably plump and dimpled representative of the Colonel. When respectfully addressed he was called Jim, but he was more familiarly known as Baby.

A small negress from beyond the Zahara, and blacker than any coal, rocked Jim violently. For this--not the rocking, but the violence--she had been unavailingly rebuked by Mrs Langley, until that lady's heart had nearly lost all hope.

"There--you have done it again, Zubby," said Mrs Langley, referring to a push that well-nigh rolled Master Jim, (as a sea-captain once said), out at the starboard side of the cradle.

Zubby confessed her guilt, by looking abashed--and what a solemn look an abashed one is in a negress with very large eyes!--as well as by rocking more gently.

Agnes vented a sudden little laugh at the expression of Zubby's face; and, the door opening at that moment, Colonel Langley entered the court, and sat down beside his wife under the giant leaves of a small banana-tree, whose life was drawn from a boxful of earth about three feet square.

"My dear," said the Colonel, "I have two rather amusing things to lay before you this evening. One is a gift from the Dey, the other is a letter. Which will you have first?"

"The gift, of course," replied the lady.

"Let her come in, Ali," called the Colonel to his interpreter, who stood in the passage outside.

Rais Ali, a Moor clad in the usual Turkish garb, but with a red fez or skull-cap on his head instead of a turban, threw open the door leading out of the court, and ushered in poor Paulina Ruffini with her child.

"Is _this_ the Dey's gift?" asked the astonished lady, rising hurriedly.

"It is; at least she is lent to us, and we are bound to accept her.-- Address her in French, my dear; she does not understand English. In fact, you'd better take her to your own room and have a talk."

Mrs Langley addressed to the poor captive a few reassuring words, and led her away, leaving the Colonel to amuse himself with Agnes.

"What has she been sent to us for?" asked Agnes.

"To be a serv--a companion to you and baby, my pet."

"That was kind of the Dey, wasn't it?" said the child.

"Well--ye-es; oh yes, doubtless, it was very kind of him," replied the Colonel.

We fear that the Colonel did not fully appreciate the kindness that resulted in the gift either of Paulina Ruffini as his servant, or of Sidi Hassan as his attendant, for he saw clearly that the former was unaccustomed to menial work, and he knew that Sidi Hassan was a turbulent member of the community. However, being a man of prompt action, and knowing that it was of the utmost importance that he should stand well in the good graces of the Dey, he resolved to receive Paulina into his establishment as governess of the nursery and companion to his wife, and to leave Sidi Hassan very much to the freedom of his own will, so long as that will did not interfere with the interests of the consulate.

On the return of his wife he listened to her pathetic account of Paulina's sad history, and then produced the letter to which he had referred on first entering.

"This letter necessitates my riding into town immediately. It is a curious document in its way, therefore lend me your ear."

Opening it he began to read. We give it _verbatim et literatim_:--

"_To the brittish Cownsul algeers_.

"7 _teenth Jully_, 18--

"Sur i'm an irishman an a sailer an recked on the cost of boogia wid
six of me messmaits hoo are wel an arty tho too was drowndid on landin
an wan wos spiflikated be the moors which are born divls an no
mistaik. I rite to say that weer starvin but the Kaid as they cals
the guvner Here says heel take a ransum for us of 150 spanish dolars
the Kaid has past his word in yoor name to the moors for that sum or
theyd hav spiflikate us too. I hope yer onor has as much to spair in
yer pokit, an will luke alive wid it, for if yoo don't its all up wid
me mesmaits inkloodin yoor onors obedent humbil servint to comand ted
flagan."

"Well, I hope, with poor Flaggan," said Mrs Langley laughingly, "that you _have_ as much to spare in your `pokit,' for if not, it is plain that the poor fellows will be led into captivity."

"I would readily advance a larger sum for so good an end," replied the consul, folding the letter. "I shall at once ride into town to make arrangements, and as it is so late, will pass the night in our town house. I shall send our new attendant, Sidi Hassan, on this mission, and leave you for the night under the guardianship of Rais Ali."

The consul left immediately, and next morning Sidi Hassan set out for Bugia with the necessary ransom.

In regard to this we need say nothing more than that he accomplished his purpose, paid the ransom, and received the seven British seamen, accompanied by whom he commenced the return journey, he and his men riding, and driving the sailors on foot before them as though they had been criminals. On the way, however, they were attacked, not far from Algiers, by a body of predatory Arabs from the Jurjura mountains.

These bold villains, at the very first onset, killed more than half of the Turkish escort, and put the rest to flight. Six of the sailors they captured and carried off, but Ted Flaggan, who was an exceedingly active as well as powerful man, proved himself more than a match for them all. During the melee he managed to throw himself in the way of one of the best-mounted among the Arabs, who instantly charged him, but Ted sprang aside and let him pass, ducking low to avoid a cut from his curved sword.

Before he could turn, the Irishman ran close to his side, seized him by the burnous, at the same time grasping his bridle, and pulled him out of the saddle with such sudden violence that he fell headlong to the ground, where he lay quite stunned by the fall. Flaggan instantly sprang into the saddle, as if he had been an accomplished cavalier, though in reality he knew no more about horses than an Esquimaux. However, a man who was accustomed to hold on to a top-sail-yard in a gale was not to be easily shaken off by an Arab charger. He clung to the high saddle-bow with one hand, and with the other grasped his clasp-knife, which he opened with his teeth. Therewith he probed the flanks of his fiery steed to such an extent that he not only distanced all his Arab pursuers, but overtook and passed his own escort one by one, until he reached Sidi Hassan himself. He then attempted to pull up, but the clasp-knife had fired the charger's blood in an unusual degree. With a wicked snort and fling that lifted Flaggan high out of the saddle, it rushed madly on, left the pirate captain far behind, and at length dashed through the Bab-Azoun gate of Algiers, despite the frantic efforts of the guard to check or turn it. Right onward it sped through the street Bab-Azoun, scattering Turks, Moors, Jews, negroes, and all the rest of them like chaff; passed the Dey's palace, straight along the street Bab el-Oued; out at the water-gate, with similar contempt of the guards; down into the hollow caused by the brook beyond; up the slope on the other side, half-way towards the summit, on the opposite side of Frais Vallon, and was not finally pulled up until it had almost run down the British consul, who chanced to be riding leisurely homeward at the time.

"You seem to have had a pretty sharp run, my man," said the consul, laughing, as the Irishman thankfully jumped off, and grasped the bridle of the now thoroughly winded horse.

"Faix an' I have, yer honour; an' if I haven't run down an' kilt half the population o' that town, wotever's its name, no thanks to this self-opiniated beast," replied Flaggan, giving the bridle a savage pull.

"You're an Irishman, I perceive," said the consul, smiling.

"Well, now, yer right, sur; though how ye came to persaive is more nor I can understand."

"Where have you come from? and how in such a plight?" demanded the consul in some surprise, observing that a troop of janissaries came galloping up the winding road, near the top of which they stood.

"Sorrow wan o' me knows where we touched at last," replied the seaman in some perplexity; "the names goes out o' me head like wather out of a sieve. All I'm rightly sure of is that I set sail four days ago from a port they calls Boogee, or so'thin' like it, in company with a man called Seedy Hassan; an' sure he'd ha bin seedy enough be now if his horse hadn't bin a good 'un, for we wos attacked, and half his party killed and took, forby my six messmates; but--"

"Your name is Ted Flaggan?" inquired the consul hastily.

"It is," said the seaman, in great surprise; "sure yer honour must be--"

The sentence was cut short by the arrival of the janissaries, who pulled up with looks of considerable astonishment on finding the mad fugitive engaged in quiet conversation with the British consul.

"Gentlemen," said Colonel Langley, with much urbanity of tone and manner, "I suppose you wish to make a prisoner of this man?"

The soldiers admitted that such was their desire and intention.

"Then you will oblige me," continued the Colonel, "by allowing me to be his jailer in the meantime. He is a British subject, of whom I can give a good account at the fitting time and place. Sidi Hassan, under whose charge he has been by my orders, will doubtless soon arrive in town, and further enlighten you on this subject."

Without waiting for a reply the Colonel bowed, and wheeling his horse round rode quietly away, followed by the Irishman, who regarded his new jailer with a very puzzled look, while a touch of humour further tended to wrinkle his remarkably expressive countenance.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

TED FLAGGAN AND RAIS ALI PROCEED ON A MISSION, AND SEE IMPRESSIVE SIGHTS.

Two days after the events narrated in the last chapter, Mrs Langley, being seated on her favourite couch in the court under the small banana-tree, sent Zubby into the garden to command the attendance of Ted Flaggan. That worthy was gifted with a rare capacity for taking the initiative in all things, when permitted to do so, and had instituted himself in the consul's mansion as assistant gardener, assistant cook and hostler, assistant footman and nurseryman, as well as general advice-giver and factotum, much to the amusement of all concerned, for he knew little of anything, but was extremely good-humoured, helpful, and apart from advice-giving--modest.

"Flaggan," said Mrs Langley, when the stout seaman appeared, hat in hand, "I want you to accompany our interpreter, Rais Ali, into town, to bring out a message from a gentleman named Sidi Omar. Ali himself has other duties to attend to, and cannot return till evening, so take particular note of the way, lest you should miss it in returning."

"I will, ma'am," replied Ted, with a forecastle bow, "Does Mister Ally onderstand English?"

"Oh yes," returned Mrs Langley, with a laugh. "I forgot that he was absent when you arrived. You will find that he understands all you say to him, though I'm not quite sure that you will understand all he says to you. Like some of the other Moors here, he has been in the British navy, and has acquired a knowledge of English. You'll find him a pleasant companion, I doubt not. Be so good as to tell him that I wish to see him before he leaves."

Obedient to the summons, Rais Ali quickly appeared. The interpreter was a stout, tall, dignified man of about thirty-five, with a great deal of self-assertion, and a dash of humour expressed in his countenance.

"Ali," said Mrs Langley, "you are aware that Sidi Omar is to be married to-morrow. I have been invited to the wedding, but have stupidly forgotten the hour at which I was asked to see the bride dressed. Will you go to Sidi Omar, or some of his people, and find this out? Take the sailor, Mr Flaggan, with you, and send him back with the information as soon as possible."

"Yis, mum," replied the interpreter; "an' please, mum, I was want too, tree days' leave of absins."

"No doubt Colonel Langley will readily grant your request. Have you some particular business to transact, or do you merely desire a holiday?"

"Bof," replied the Moor, with a mysterious smile. "I'se got finished the partikler bizziness of bein' spliced yesterdays, an' I wants littil holiday."

"Indeed," said Mrs Langley in surprise, "you have been very quiet about it."

"Ho yis, wery quiet."

"Where is your bride, Ali? I should like so much to see her."

"Her's at 'ome, safe," said Rais Ali, touching a formidable key which was stuck in his silken girdle.

"What! have you locked her up?"

"Yis--'bleeged to do so for keep her safe."

"Not alone, I hope?" said Mrs Langley.

"No, not 'lone. Her's got a bootiflul cat, an' I means buy her a little nigger boy soon."

Having arranged that Mrs Langley was to visit his bride on her way to Sidi Omar's wedding the following day, Rais Ali set out on his mission, accompanied by Mr Flaggan.

The Irishman soon discovered that the Moor was a conceited coxcomb and a barefaced boaster, and ere long began to suspect that he was an arrant coward. He was, however, good-humoured and chatty, and Ted, being in these respects like-minded, rather took a fancy to him, and slily encouraged his weakness.

"Ye must have seed a power o' sarvice in the navy, now," he said, with an air of interest; "how came you to git into it?"

"Ha! that wos cos o' me bein' sitch a strong, good-lookin' feller," replied Ali, with an air of self-satisfaction.

"Just so," said Flaggan; "but it's not common to hear of Moors bein' taken aboard our men o' war, d'ee see. It's that as puzzles me."

"Oh, that's easy to 'splain," returned Ali. "The fac' is, I'd bin for sev'l year aboord a Maltese trader 'tween Meddrainean an' Liverp'l, and got so like a English tar you coodn't tell the one fro' the oder. Spok English, too, like natif."

"Ha!" exclaimed Ted, nodding his head gravely--"well?"

"Well, one night w'en we was all sleeperin' in port, in a 'ouse on shore, the press-gang comes round an' nabs the whole of us. We fight like lions. I knock seven men down, one before the tother, 'cause of bein' very strong, an' had learn to spar a littil. You know how to spar?"

"Well," returned Ted, looking with a smile at his huge hands, "I can't go for to say as I know much about the science of it, d'ee see; but I can use my fists after a fashion."

"Good," continued the Moor. "Well, then, we fights till all our eyes is black, an' all our noses is red, an' some of our teeths is out, but the sailirs wos too many for us. We wos 'bleeged to gif in, for wot kin courage do agin numbers? so we wos took aboord a friggit and 'zamined."

"An' what?" asked the seaman.

"'Zamined. Overhauled," replied the Moor.

"Oh! examined, I see. Well?"

"Well, I feels sure of git hoff, bein' a Algerine Moor, so w'en my turn comes, I says to the hofficer wot 'zamined us, says I, `I's not a Breetish man!'

"`Wot are you, then?' says the hofficer.

"`I's a Moor,' says I.

"`Moor's the pity,' says he."

Ted gave a short laugh at this.

"Now, that's strange," observed Ali, glancing at his companion in some surprise; "that's 'zactly wot they all did, w'en the hofficer says that! I've thought oftin 'bout it since, but never could see wot they laugh at."

"Oh, it's just a way we've got," returned Flaggan, resuming his gravity; "the English have a knack o' larfin', off and on, w'en they shouldn't ought to.--Git along with your yarn."

"Well, that wos the finish. I became a Breetish tar, an' fouted in all the battils of the navy. I 'spected to get promotion an' prize-money, but nivir git none, 'cause of circumstances as wos never 'splained to me. Well, one night we come in our friggit to anchor in bay of Algiers. I gits leave go ashore wi' tothers, runs right away to our Dey, who gits awrful waxy, sends for Breetish cap'n, 'splain that I's the son of a Turk by a Algerine moder an' wery nigh or'er the cap'n's head to be cutted off."

"You don't say so?"

"Yis, it's troo. Wery near declare war with England acause of that," said Ali, with an air of importance. "But the Breetish consul he interfere, goes down on hims knees, an' beg the Dey for to parding hims nation."

"He must ha' bin a cowardly feller, that consul!"

"No," said the interpreter sternly, "him's not coward. Him was my master, Kurnil Langley, an' only do the right ting: humbil hisself to our Dey w'en hims contry do wrong.--Now, here we is comin' to Bab-el-Oued, that means the Water-gate in yoor lingo, w'ere the peepils hold palaver."

This in truth appeared to be the case, for many of the chief men of the city were seated under and near the gate, as the two drew near, smoking their pipes and gossiping in the orthodox Eastern style.

The big Irishman attracted a good deal of notice as he passed through the gates; but Turks are grave and polite by nature: no one interrupted him or made audible comments upon his somewhat wild and unusual appearance.

Passing onwards, they entered the town and traversed the main street towards the Bab-Azoun gate, which Ali explained to his companion was the Gate of Tears, and the place of public execution.

Here they came suddenly on the body of a man, the feet and limbs of which were dreadfully mangled, showing that the miserable wretch had perished under the bastinado.

At the time we write of, and indeed at all times during Turkish rule, human life was held very cheap. For the slightest offences, or sometimes at the mere caprice of those in power, men were taken up and bastinadoed in the open streets until they died from sheer agony, and their relations did not dare to remove the bodies for burial until their tyrants had left the scene. Cruelty became almost the second nature of the people. Theft was checked by the amputation of the first joint of the fore-finger of the right hand for the first offence. For the second, the whole hand was sacrificed, and for the third, the head itself was forfeited. Sometimes, in cases of capital punishment, decapitation was performed by degrees! and other refinements too horrible to mention were constantly practised.

While the interpreter was explaining to his companion as much of this as he deemed it right for him to know, several of the sorrowing relations of the dead man came forward and carried the body away. Little notice was taken of the incident, which, from beginning to end, scarcely interrupted the general flow of business.

At the Bab-Azoun gate, which occupied a position not many yards distant from the spot on which now stands the principal theatre of Algiers, Ali left Ted Flaggan for a few minutes, begging him to wait until he had transacted a piece of business in the market held just outside the gate.

"Tell me before ye go, Ally, what may be the use of them three big hooks close to the gate," said Flaggan, pointing upwards.

"Them's for throwin' down teeves an' murderers on to.--You stay here; me not be wery long come back."

Rais Ali hurried away, leaving the sailor to observe and moralise on all that passed around him. And there was a good deal to induce thought in one who had been accustomed to comparatively humane laws and merciful dispensations in his native land, for, besides the scene which he had just witnessed, and the huge hooks whose uses had just been explained to him, he now noticed that several conspicuous places near him were garnished with the heads of malefactors who had been recently executed. He observed, also, that the innumerable donkeys which were being constantly driven past him, overladen with market produce, were covered with open sores, and that these sores appeared to be selected for special flagellation when the brutal drivers wished to urge the wretched creatures on.

He stood thus for some time watching with interest the throng of Turks, Jews, Moors, negroes, and others that continually streamed to and fro, some on foot, some on horseback, and others, especially the men with marketable commodities, on mules and donkeys. It was not difficult for him to distinguish between the races, for Rais Ali had already told him that none but Turks were permitted to wear the turban, not even the sons of Turks by Algerine mothers, and that the Jews were by law commanded to dress in sombre black.

Suddenly he observed a body of men advancing towards the gate, carrying something in their arms, and followed by an orderly crowd at a respectful distance. With the curiosity of an idler he approached, and found that they bore a man, who was firmly bound hand and foot. The man was a Moor, and the anxious look of his pale face showed that he was about to suffer punishment of some kind.

The seaman mingled with the crowd and looked on.

Laying the man on the ground with his face downwards, the officers of justice sent away two of their number, who speedily returned with a blacksmith's anvil and forehammer. On this they placed one of their victim's ankles, and Flaggan now saw, with a sickening heart, that they were about to break it with the ponderous hammer. One blow sufficed to crush the bones in pieces, and drew from the man an appalling shriek of agony. Pushing his leg farther on the anvil, the executioner broke it again at the shin, while the other officials held the yelling victim down. A third blow was then delivered on the knee, but the shriek that followed was suddenly cut short in consequence of the man having fainted. Still the callous executioner went on with his horrible task, and, breaking the leg once more at the thigh, proceeded to go through the same process with the other leg, and also with the arms. When twelve blows had thus been delivered, the writhing of the wretched victim proved that he was still alive, though his labouring chest was now incapable of giving vent to his agony in shrieks.

We would not describe such a scene as this were it not certainly true; and we relate it, reader, not for the purpose of harrowing your feelings, but for the sake of showing what diabolical deeds we men are capable of, unless guarded therefrom by the loving and tender _spirit_ of Jesus Christ. We say "spirit" advisedly, for we are well aware that false professors of that blessed name have, many a time, committed deeds even more horrible than that which we have just described.

Unable to bear the sight longer, the sailor turned and hurried away from the spot.

Fortunately he met Rais Ali just outside the crowd.

"Come, lad, come," he cried, seizing that boastful man by the arm, in such a grasp that Rais turned pale with alarm. "I can't stop here. Let's git away. Sure it's divls they must be, an' not men!"

Blindly dragging the interpreter along by main force through several streets, Flaggan stopped suddenly at last to recover breath and to wipe the perspiration from his brow.

"Don't ask me wot I've seen," he said, to Ali's inquiries, "I can't a-bear to think on it. God help me! I wish I could wipe it out of me brain intirely. Come along, let's finish our business, an' git out o' this cursed place."

Proceeding rapidly and in silence towards the street at the base of the triangular town, which followed the line of ramparts that faced the sea, they discovered the great man of whom they were in search, Sidi Omar, walking up and down with the cadi, or chief judge, to whose daughter he was to be united on the following day.

"It won't do to 'trupt 'em jus' yit. Hold on a littil," said Rais Ali to his companion.

Ted Flaggan had no objection to "hold on," for the sight of the ocean with its fresh breezes cooled his brow, and tended to turn his mind away from the horrible thoughts that filled it.

While they are waiting, let you and me, reader, listen to the conclusion of the converse held between the bridegroom and father-in-law.

The cadi was a stern old Turk, with a long grey beard. The son-in-law elect was, as we have elsewhere said, an ill-favoured elderly man with only one eye. He did not look quite so happy as one would have expected in a bridegroom so near his wedding-day, but that was to be accounted for, to some extent, by the fact that he already possessed four wives, and was naturally somewhat used to weddings.

"No, no," said he, in a cautious tone, to the judge; "it won't do to be hasty about it, Achmet is too popular at present."

"What has that to do with the question?" asked the cadi, in a tone of contempt. "If our party be strong enough we have only to strike; and I tell you that I believe it to be quite strong enough."

"I know it," returned Omar impatiently, "but I also know that my enemy, Sidi Hassan, is more than usually on the alert just now; I think it well to delay for a time. Besides," he added, smiling, "you surely would not have me begin a revolution on the very eve of my marriage!"

"I would have you lose as little time as possible," replied the cadi. "But see, if I mistake not, these two men are eyeing us rather narrowly."

Seeing that they were observed, Rais Ali advanced, and, with a low salaam, delivered his message to Sidi Omar, who gave him the necessary reply, and dismissed him.

Resuming their conference, the two magnates turned to saunter along the street, when Omar observed a dark object like a dog, coiled up in an angle of the parapet. Poking it with his cane, he caused it to uncoil and display the vacant, features of a half-witted negro boy. The poor creature fell on his knees in alarm on seeing the well-known face of Sidi Omar, but sprang to his feet with alacrity, and ran off at full speed on being sternly told to "be gone."

Meanwhile Rais Ali led his friend safely through the Bab-el-Oued gate, and, turning his face in the right direction said--

"Now, you git 'ome, fast. Keep 'er steady--a point morer to the westward--so, yoo can't go wrong."

Instead of obeying orders, Ted Flaggan turned, and, with an amused smile, watched the retreating figure of the interpreter. Then, after sauntering on some distance in a reverie, he stopped and gazed long and earnestly at the pirate city, whose white-washed domes and minarets gleamed in the sunshine like marble, contrasting beautifully with the bright green of the Sahel hills behind, and the intense blue of the sky and sea.

"A whited sepulchre!" muttered the seaman, with a frown, as he turned away and pushed forward at a rapid pace towards the residence of the British consul.

CHAPTER NINE.

DESCRIBES A MOORISH BRIDE, A WEDDING, AND A METAMORPHOSIS, BESIDES INDICATING A PLOT.

On the following morning Mrs Langley set out on horseback for the palace of the cadi, to attend the wedding of his daughter with Sidi Omar, and, true to her promise, turned aside on the way to pay a visit to the imprisoned bride of Rais Ali.

She was accompanied, of course, by the remarkable bridegroom himself, and also by her husband's janissary, Sidi Hassan, as well as by her daughter Agnes, who rode a spirited Arab pony.

Immediately on entering the gate of the city, Rais and the ladies dismounted, and leaving their horses in charge of a groom, ascended on foot one of the narrow streets of the town. So steep was this street that it consisted of a flight of broad steps, which led ultimately to the casba, or citadel, at the upper part of the town. But before they had ascended it very far, the interpreter diverged into a cross street, which was much narrower. It terminated in a _cul-de-sac_, at the bottom of which stood the door of Rais Ali's town residence.

And a remarkable door it was, made of thick oaken planks, studded with enormous nails, the heads of which were as large as a half-crown. Just above it there was a square hole grated with thick iron bars, which served to enlighten the gloomy passage within.

Applying the key before mentioned to this door, Rais threw it open and bade the visitors enter.

Having carefully shut and re-locked the door, the interpreter led them through a narrow passage, which terminated in the usual square court of Moorish houses. This was very small, and, like all such courts, had no roof, so that a pleasant gleam of sunshine flickered through the creepers which twined up its pillars and gleamed on the drops that fell from a tinkling fountain in the centre.

Entering an open doorway on the right of the court, the interpreter led the way up a flight of marble steps to the second storey of the house. A small gallery, such as one sees in public libraries in England, ran round the four sides of the building over the balustrade, of which one could look down on the leafy court with its ever singing _jet d'eau_. The windows of the several private, apartments opened upon this gallery.

In the centre of one side of the square was a large open doorway, in the form of a Moorish arch, by which entrance was obtained into a little extremely ornate apartment. The dome-shaped roof of this boudoir was lighted by four little holes filled with stained-glass, and the walls were covered with beautifully painted tiles. Rich ornaments of various Eastern and fanciful kinds were strewn about, and valuable Persian rugs covered the marble floor.

On an ottoman, in the centre of all, sat Rais Ali's bride, cross-legged, and on a cushion before her lay the cat, her only companion.

She was clothed in garments of the richest description, which glittered with gold embroidery and jewels. Seated thus, stroking the cat, and with a self-satisfied smile on her fat pretty face, she seemed the very personification of contentment. Her soft brown neck was almost hidden with rows of pearls, and long rows of the same jewels depended from the high filigree cap which towered above her head. Her dress consisted of three open jackets or short caftans, one above the other, without sleeves. These were profusely garnished with gold lace, and fastened only at the waist. White linen trousers or drawers covered her limbs to the ankles, but these were so immensely wide as to bear more resemblance to female drapery than to the masculine appendages which their name suggests. A silken, gold-striped shawl was fastened by two corners round her waist, and hung down in front like an apron. Sleeves of fine embroidered muslin and of great width covered her arms. Her little feet and ankles were bare, but the latter were ornamented with several thick gold leglets. In each ear she wore five large round ear-rings, two of these fitting into two holes in the lower, and three into the upper part of the ear. One awkward result of this was that the upper ear-rings pulled the ears down, and made them pendent like those of a poodle!

The visitors having been introduced, Madam Rais Ali received them with a good-humoured stare, but said nothing. Mrs Langley then tried to engage her in conversation, but Mrs Ali continued to stare and smile without speaking, for the good reason that she understood neither French nor English. Requesting Ali to interpret, Mrs Langley then put one or two questions. The bride turned her large dark eyes on her husband while he was speaking, and then, instead of replying, turned them on her visitors and laughed. Whereupon little Agnes, unable to control herself, also laughed; this unhinged Mrs Langley, who laughed likewise, and Rais Ali followed suit from sympathy.

After this satisfactory ebullition, Mrs Langley again essayed to induce conversation, but beyond yes, no, and a laugh, she could draw forth nothing whatever from the bride, whose mind, in regard to all things terrestrial, with the exception of household affairs, was a perfect blank. Mohammedan females are treated by their lords like babies. They receive no education worthy of the name, and are therefore apt to be childish in their ideas.

After one or two fruitless attempts, the visitors took leave of the happy bride, who was thereupon locked up again by her jealous husband, and left to her own resources and the cat.

Returning to the place where their steeds had been left, the party re-mounted, and proceeded to the palace of the cadi.

This palace, being situated in one of the narrow lanes of the town, had a very undignified and dull exterior. Indeed, no one could have imagined it to be a palace, but for the spiral columns of marble and other rich and costly carving around the entrance. Inside, however, the aspect of things was more in keeping with the dignity of the owner.

The lady and her daughter were ushered into a little square hall, in which several guards were seated, cross-legged, on small stone seats or niches round the walls, smoking long pipes. Beyond this was the principal entrance-hall or antechamber of the palace. It was gorgeous in marble pillars, stucco designs, horse-shoe arches, and other Mooresque decorations. Here a large party of officials and friends were moving about. Beyond this, they came to the square court, which is the same in general arrangements, in all Moorish houses, though, of course, not in size or luxury of detail.

Here the cadi himself met his guests, and conducted them to the suite of chambers on the second storey, which were devoted to the ladies. At the principal entrance to these they were received by the cadi's wife, and, with much display of friendliness and affection, were conducted into the harem--that mysterious retreat which, in a Mohammedan household, is never entered by mortal man, except the lord thereof.

It was Mrs Langley's first visit to such a scene, and, although she had been prepared for something magnificent, the gorgeous nature of everything far surpassed her expectations. The rooms, indeed, were small, being, like those of all Moorish dwellings, rather long and narrow, with recesses or antechambers. Some of these latter had dome-shaped roofs, with little coloured glass skylights, such as we have already described, and were delightfully snug retreats. The walls and ceilings of all the apartments were profusely ornamented, and the hangings and furniture were of the richest material.

On a silken couch, at the farther end of one of these small apartments, sat the bride, Zara, youngest daughter of the cadi, and a lovely girl of nineteen. Poor Zara! Her history--not by any means an uncommon one in that land--goes to prove that Mohammedan women, far more than English, have need of a "Women's Rights Society."

Zara was already a widow with two beautiful children! Her first husband, to whom she had been married without her inclination being consulted, had been strangled.

It was afterwards proved that he was innocent of the crime for which he had suffered, but that gave very little pain to the consciences of those who had strangled him, partly because their consciences were callous, and partly because they regarded the event as one of the decrees of "Fate."

After his death it became necessary that another husband should be found for Zara. She, poor creature, would have been thankful to have remained in a state of widowed felicity; but this was not deemed proper by her wealthy relatives. Of course it was not difficult to find a suitor where a pretty girl was the hook, and a large dower the bait. Sidi Omar came forward, and all the relatives said that it was an excellent match--all save one, Zara's eldest sister, Hanyfa.

Hanyfa was--to speak plainly--a bad girl. She was one of the wives of a great officer of state--in other words, a particularly noted pirate-- named Sidi Hamet. Now, Hamet was the Aga or commander-in-chief of the cavalry. He was an ambitious man, and a rival of Sidi Omar in this respect. Of course he hated Omar, and so did his wife Hanyfa, hence her objection to him as her sister's husband. But neither she nor Hamet could stay the marriage; they therefore made up their minds to endure it.

One thing that struck and surprised Mrs Langley was the extreme fairness of many of the Moorish ladies; some of whom were quite as fair as Europeans, and very beautiful, with much finer eyes than those of the more northern belles.

Having laid aside the shroud-like veils which Moorish ladies wear when exposed to the slightest chance of meeting the gaze of man, they now stood confessed in all the magnificence of Oriental taste. It is impossible to describe the dazzling splendour of the jewels with which their costumes absolutely blazed; especially those in the little golden caps, or salmas, which some of them wore. There were bouquets of roses, jessamine, peacock's-feathers, and butterflies, formed of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other precious gems. We do not draw on our imagination here, good reader. It is probable that if a comparison had been instituted, these pirates could have far outshone any court of Europe in the matter of jewellery.

Of course no gentlemen were present. It is one of the drawbacks of Mohammedan female life that the ladies can never enjoy the satisfaction of displaying themselves to male admirers, with the exception of husbands, fathers, and brothers. How far the display of themselves to each other is attended with pleasure remains a doubtful point-- especially when we consider that jealousy has not yet been quite eradicated from the female human breast.

However, on the occasion of which we write, most of the assembled ladies appeared to be highly delighted with each other. They were all very merry too, and, being little better than children as regards intellectual training, they were particularly childlike in their merriment.

As the wife of the British consul was a lady of some importance just then, (the consul being high in favour with the Dey), she was received with becoming ceremony, and conducted to a seat next the bride. This seat, like the seats of Orientals in general, was simply a cushion laid on the marble floor. Seating herself with some difficulty in the Moorish fashion, she proceeded to pay some compliments to the bride in English and French, but as Zara knew neither of these languages, she shook her head, smiled, and returned some compliments in Turkish; whereupon Mrs Langley shook her head and smiled. The rest of the company, from infection probably, nodded to each other also, and smiled. Two or three pretty young and rather stout girls turned aside, and went the length of giggling.

Fortunately at this point an interpreter was brought forward in the person of an Italian slave, a good-looking middle-aged lady, who understood French, and who, during a servitude of ten years, had also acquired Turkish.

Compliments were now bandied to and fro with great volubility, without any introductory references to weather, and much notice was taken of little Agnes, whose appearance was the cause of some good-natured criticism among the Algerine belles. As the costume of these latter,-- with much variety in colour and detail,--bore strong general resemblance to that of the bride of Rais Ali, it is not necessary to describe it more minutely.

Coffee and sweetmeats were now served, the former in exquisitely delicate porcelain cups, so small that they might have been easily mistaken for part of a doll's establishment. They had neither handles nor saucers, and were prevented from burning the fingers by being inserted into what we may style egg-cups of beautiful gold and silver filigree. The coffee was too thick to suit the European palate, being ground in a fashion peculiar to the Moors. It was also too sweet.

There was present a younger sister of the bride, who had not only a tendency, but had already attained in an unusual degree, to the possession of _embonpoint_ and was appropriately named Fatma. She wore the salma, a dazzling little golden cap, in token of being still unmarried. She seemed much captivated with little Agnes. No wonder, for, in the simplicity of a pure white dress, and with her fair curls streaming down her cheeks, unadorned save by one little blush rose, she looked like an ethereal spirit dropped into the midst of the garish party.

Fatma got up suddenly and whispered to her mother.

"My little girl," said the Moorish lady, through the interpreter, "thinks your daughter would look _so_ pretty in our costume."

"I have no doubt she would," replied Mrs Langley, glancing with some pride at Agnes.

"She asks if you will allow her to be dressed just now in the Moorish fashion."

"If there is sufficient time," said Mrs Langley, with an amused smile.

"Oh, plenty of time," cried Fatma, who immediately seized the not unwilling Agnes by the hand, and ran off with her.

Opposite to Zara sat her sister Hanyfa, who looked pretty and innocent enough just then, though Mrs Langley was struck by her look of superior intelligence, and a certain sharpness of glance which might almost have been styled suspicious.

The consul's lady was about to address her, but was interrupted by the entrance of several dancing-women, who immediately claimed the undivided attention of the company.

One of these carried a sort of guitar, another an earthenware drum covered at one end with parchment, and a third a large tambourine, while a fourth prepared to dance.

Of the dancing we need say little. It was unworthy of the name. There was little motion of the feet, and a good deal of waving of a kerchief held in each hand. The music was still less worthy of note; its chief feature being noise. Nevertheless, the Moorish ladies, knowing no better, enjoyed it extremely, and Mrs Langley enjoyed it sympathetically. These women were professionals, the ladies themselves taking no part in the dancing.

After this the bride ascended by steps to one of the shelves or stone recesses, which formed convenient sofas or couches round the walls of the apartment, and there, seated on cushions, submitted to be arrayed in bridal apparel. None but a lady's pen could do full justice to her stupendous toilet. We shall therefore do no more than state that the ludicrously high head-dress, in particular, was a thing of unimaginable splendour, and that her ornaments generally were so heavy as to render her incapable of walking without support.

While this was going on in the chamber of state, a very different, but not less remarkable, transformation was being wrought in Fatma's own private apartment, where she and several of her Algerine companions, assisted by a coal-black slave-girl, named Zooloo, converted innocent little Agnes into a Moor.

Of course conversation with the heroine of the hour was impossible, but this mattered, little to Agnes, for she could converse quite powerfully with her eyes, and her young friends chattered more than enough among themselves.

Standing over her with a formidable pair of scissors, and grasping her front hair with her left hand, the coal-black Zooloo said--

"Stand still, you white thing, till I perform my duty."

Of course she said it only by her looks; and Agnes quite understood her.

Next moment a whole cluster of golden ringlets fell to the ground. For one moment Agnes's eyes and mouth resembled three round O's. She felt that something telling had been done, and thoughts of her mother flashed into her mind, but Fatma's pretty little round face, with no eyes to speak of owing to laughter, caused her to smile and then to laugh heartily.

Having brushed the front hair over her forehead, and cut it straight across, the energetic Zooloo next painted her eyebrows black with a substance called kohl, causing them to meet over her nose in the most approved form of Algerine elegance. Then she dyed her nails and the palms of her hands dark-red with another substance named henna. The first of these takes about a week to remove, and the last can be got rid of only by the growth of the nail. Agnes was not aware of this, else she might have objected. They finished up the adornment of the face by sticking it all over with gold spangles.

"Now you look lovely," said Zooloo--with her eyes--stepping back and surveying her as a painter might his _chef-d'oeuvre_.

"Do I? How nice!" replied Agnes.

Then the whole party broke into a chorus of laughter, and running to a wardrobe tumbled out a mass of richly embroidered garments--in silk, satin, muslin, damask, fine linen, and gold, that would have stocked at least half a dozen European families with charading material for life.

From this heap were selected and put on a lovely pair of fair linen drawers, of that baggy kind peculiar to Algerine ladies; also an exquisite little caftan, or sleeveless jacket, of scarlet cloth, so covered with gold lace that scarcely any of the scarlet was visible; likewise a perfect gem of a cap of gold, not bigger than Agnes's own hand, which Fatma put on in a coquettish style, very much to one side of the head; saying, (with her eyes), as she did so, and laughing heartily the while--

"You're not married yet, of course?"

To which Agnes replied, also with her eyes, innocently--

"No, not yet, but I hope to be soon." Whereupon the whole party laughed immoderately and said, each one with her eyes--

"There can't be the smallest doubt whatever upon _that_ point!"

At this point they were interrupted by the entrance of Hanyfa, but that lady, far from damping their ardour, took particular pleasure in assisting. By her advice they cut off a good deal more of the flaxen hair, and deepened the dye on the eyebrows, nails, and palms. Gradually, however, Hanyfa drew the negress Zooloo from the scene of action, and entered into a very earnest conversation in whispers, quite unheeded by the riotous youngsters. There seemed to be a pretty good understanding between these unusually intelligent females, if one might judge from the nods and winks and knowing smiles which passed between them; but their confabulation was cut short by the completion of the toilet.

Many other things of rare value and beauty, which we cannot afford space to mention, were put upon Agnes, and then she was led by the hand into the presence of her mamma!

To say that Mrs Langley was dumbfounded is but a feeble way of expressing the state of her mind. Although a lady of great moral courage, and accustomed from infancy to self-control, she felt, on first beholding her timid little daughter, strongly disposed to seize Fatma by the hair of the head, and use her as a bludgeon wherewith to fell her Algerine mother; but, remembering the dignity of her position as, in some sort, a reflected representative of the British Empire in these parts, and also recalling to mind the aptitude of Algerine gentlemen to tie up in sacks and drown obstreperous Algerine ladies, she restrained herself, bit her lips, and said nothing.

Fortunately at that moment it became necessary to conduct the bride to her future lord's apartment, which, for the time, was in another part of the same mansion.

To the cry of "Lai! lai! lella!" which was meant to express great joy, and was always raised at Moorish weddings, the guests conducted poor Zara to her "fate."

That evening Hanyfa sat at the feet of her lord, Sidi Hamet, and watched the curls of smoke which, arising from the bowl of his magnificent hookah, rolled like cannon-wreaths from beneath his frowning and no less magnificent moustache.

"Zooloo is a smart girl," said Hamet, referring to something that had just been said.

"She is," assented Hanyfa.

"You are sure she cannot have misunderstood?" asked Hamet.

"Quite sure. Dressed as a boy, she lay close to their feet at the time in an angle of the wall near the Djama Djedid, and overheard every word distinctly."

"Good," said the Aga of cavalry, venting a sigh of relief, which propelled a miniature gunshot half-way across the room; "that enables me to decide the course which I shall pursue, and gives us a little breathing-time before entering on the final act of the play."

CHAPTER TEN.

SHOWS WHAT LESSONS WERE TAUGHT IN THE BAGNIO, AND DESCRIBES A BRAVE DASH FOR FREEDOM.

Bacri, the chief of the Jews, proved as good as his word.

By means of a golden lever he moved some one, who moved some one else, who moved the Dey to make certain inquiries about the slaves in the Bagnio, which resulted in his making the discovery that Lucien Rimini was a first-rate linguist and an excellent scribe.

Immediately he was commanded to fill the office of scrivano to the Dey-- that post being vacant in consequence of the previous secretary having given his master some offence, for which he had had his head cut off.

But Lucien's elevation did not necessarily improve the condition of his father and brother. The Dey cared only for those slaves who made themselves useful to him; their relations he utterly ignored, unless they succeeded in gaining his regard. The Sicilians had too much common-sense to expect any great immediate advantage from the change, nevertheless, the slight hope which had been aroused by this event enabled the two who were left in the Bagnio to endure their lot with greater fortitude and resignation. As for Lucien, he resolved to win the Dey's esteem in order to be able to influence him in favour of his father and brother.

"We must learn to submit, my son," said Francisco, one evening, while he and Mariano were finishing the last crumbs of the black bread which constituted their morning and evening meals.

"I admit it, father," said Mariano, with a long-drawn sigh. "Bacri was right; but it's not easy to bear. For myself, I think I could stand their insults and their lash better if they would only spare you, but when I see the villains strike you as they did to-day--oh, father!"-- Mariano flushed and clenched his hands--"it makes me so wild that I feel as though the blood would burst my veins. You cannot wonder that I find it impossible to submit."

"God bless you, boy," said Francisco, laying his hand on the youth's shoulder; "I understand your feelings--nevertheless it were well that you learned to restrain them, for rebellion only works evil. You saw what was the consequence of your attacking the man who struck me to-day--you got knocked down and bastinadoed, and I--"

Francisco paused.

"Yes, go on, father, I know what you mean."

"Well, I would not hurt your feelings by mentioning it--as you say, you know what I mean."

"You mean," said Mariano, "that in consequence of my violence they gave you an additional flogging. True, father, true; and _that_ is the one thing that will now enable me to suffer in silence."

At this point in the conversation they were interrupted by a deep groan from a young man in the cell opposite, which was prolonged into an appalling cry.

Most of the slaves in the foul den had finished their meagre meal and lain down on the hard floors to seek, in heavy slumber, the repose which was essential to fit them for the toils of the coming day.

Some of them awoke and raised themselves on their elbows, but sank back again on seeing that nothing particular had occurred. A few who had been rendered callous by their sufferings did not take the trouble to move, but Francisco and Mariano rose and hastened to the man, supposing him to have fallen into a fit. Mariano moved with difficulty owing to the chains, upwards of sixty pounds weight, which he wore as a punishment for his recent violence.

"Go--go back to your rest," said the man, who lay with clenched teeth and hands, as Francisco kneeled beside him, "there is nothing the matter with me."

"Nay, friend, you are mistaken," said Francisco, taking his hand kindly; "your look, and that perspiration on your brow, tell me that something is the matter with you. Let me call our jailer, and--"

"Call our jailer!" exclaimed the young man, with a fierce laugh; "d'you think that he'd take any notice of a sick slave? No, when we get sick we are driven out to work till we get well. If we don't get well, we are left to die."

"Surely, surely not!" said Francisco.

"Surely not!" repeated the young man. "Look; look there!"

He pointed as he spoke to the old man who lay on his back at full length in the recess next to his own.

"See. He is a free man now! I knew he was to be released to-night. I have seen many and many a one set free thus since I came here."

Francisco was horrified, on going to the place where the old man lay, to find that he was dead. He had observed him tottering and looking very feeble at his work in the stone-quarries that day, but in his own misery had forgotten him since returning to the Bagnio.

"Too true!" he said, returning to the young man; "his troubles are indeed ended; but tell me what is it that ails thyself."

"'Tis memory," said the young man, raising himself on his elbow, and gazing sadly into Francisco's face. "Your conversation to-night for a moment aroused memories which I have long sought to stifle.--Lad," he said, laying a hand impressively on Mariano's arm, "take the advice that Bacri gave you. I was once as you are. I came here--years ago--with a father like thine; but he was an older and a feebler man. Like you, I fought against our fate with the ferocity of a wild beast, and they tortured me until my life hung by a thread, for I could not endure to see the old man beaten. As you said just now, `you cannot wonder that I found it impossible to submit,' but they taught me to submit. Oh! they are clever devils in their cruelty. They saw that I cared not for my life, but they also saw that I suffered through my father, and at last when _I_ became rebellious they beat _him_. _That_ tamed me, and taught me submission. The old one who lies there was a friend and comrade in sorrow of the dear father who was set free a year ago. I lay thinking of them both to-night, and when I saw you two taking the first steps on the weary path which I have trod so long--and have now, methinks, well-nigh finished--I could not restrain myself. But go--get all the rest you can. We cannot afford to waste the hours in talk. Only be sure, lad, that you take the Jew's advice--submit."

Without replying, the father and son crept back to their hard couch. Had they been in more comfortable circumstances their thoughts might have caused them to toss in feverish restlessness, but sheer muscular exhaustion, acting on healthy frames, caused them to fall at once into a deep slumber, from which they were rudely aroused next morning at four o'clock to proceed to the Marina, where they were to be engaged that day on certain repairs connected with the bulwarks of the harbour.

On the way down they were joined by an old man in a semi-clerical costume, whose gentle demeanour appeared to modify even the cruel nature of their savage guards, for they ceased to crack their whips at his approach, and treated him with marked respect.

Some of the slaves appeared to brighten into new creatures on beholding him, and spoke to him in earnest tones, addressing him as Padre Giovanni.

The padre had a consoling word for all, and appeared to be well acquainted with the various languages in which they spoke.

Approaching Francisco and his son he walked beside them.

"Thou hast arrived but recently, methinks?" he said in a tone of commiseration, "and hast suffered much already."

"Ay, we have suffered somewhat," replied Francisco in an off-hand tone, not feeling much inclined to be communicative just then.

In a few minutes, however, Giovanni had ingratiated himself with the Sicilians to such an extent that they had related all their sad history to him, and already began to feel as if he were an old friend, before they had traversed the half-mile that lay between their nightly prison and the harbour.

Arrived at their place of toil--the artificial neck connecting the little light-house island with the mainland,--Mariano was ordered to convey large masses of stone for the supply of a gang of slaves who were building a new face to the breakwater, while his father was harnessed, with another gang, to the cart that conveyed the stones to their destination along a temporary tramway.

The severity of the labour consisted chiefly in the intense heat under which it was performed, and in the unremitting nature of it. It must not be imagined, however, that there was not a single touch of humanity in the breasts of the cruel slave-drivers. Hard task-masters though they undoubtedly were, some of them were wont to turn aside and look another way when any of the poor slaves sat down for a few minutes, overcome with exhaustion.

There was little opportunity allowed, however, for intercourse among the unfortunates. One or two who, judging from their faces, showed sympathetic leanings towards each other, were immediately observed and separated. This had the effect of hardening some, while it drove others to despair.

One of those whose spirit seemed to vacillate between despair and ferocity was the young man already referred to as being an inhabitant of Francisco's part of the Bagnio. He was a Portuguese, named Castello. In carrying the stones to and fro, he and Mariano had to pass each other regularly every three or four minutes. The latter observed, after a time, that Castello glanced at him with peculiar intelligence. At first he was puzzled, but on next passing him he determined to give him a similar look. He did so. Next time that Castello passed he said, in a low tone, without looking up, and without in the least checking his pace--

"Better to die than this!"

Mariano was taken by surprise, and at first made no reply, for he recalled the man's advice of the previous night, but, on passing the Portuguese again, he said, in the same low tone--

"Yes, much better!"

Curious to know what was meant by this--for the tones and glances of Castello were emphatic--Mariano kept on the alert as he repassed his comrade, expecting more. He was not disappointed, though the nature of the communication tended to increase his surprise.

"Fall and hurt yourself," whispered Castello, and passed on.

Much perplexed, Mariano tried to conceive some reason for such a strange order, but failed. He was, however, one of those rare spirits who have the capacity, in certain circumstances, to sink themselves--not blindly, but intelligently--and place implicit confidence in others. Hastily reviewing the _pros_ and _cons_ while laying his stone on the breakwater, and feeling assured that no great harm could possibly come of compliance, he gave a nod to his comrade in passing.

"I want to speak to you," muttered Castello briefly.

At once the reason flashed on Mariano's mind. The delay consequent on the fall would afford opportunity for a few more sentences than it was possible to utter in passing.

On returning, therefore, with a huge stone on his shoulder, just as he passed his friend he fell with an admirable crash, and lay stunned on the ground.

Castello instantly kneeled by his side and raised his head.

"Ten of us," he said quickly, "intend to make a dash for the Bab-el-Oued gate on the way back to-night: join us. It's neck or nothing."

"I will, if my father agrees," said Mariano, still lying with closed eyes--unconscious!

"If he does, pull your hat on one side of your head as you--" A tremendous lash from a whip cut short the sentence, and caused Castello to spring up. "Rise, you dog!" cried the Turk who had bestowed it; "are Christians so delicate that they need to be nursed for every fall?"

Castello hurried back to his work without a word of reply, and Mariano, opportunely recovering, with a view to avoid a similar cut, staggered on with his stone; but the Turk quickened his movements by a sharp flip on the shoulder, which cut a hole in his shirt, and left a bright mark on his skin.

For one moment the gush of the old fierce spirit almost overcame the poor youth, but sudden reflection and certain tender sensations about the soles of his feet came to his aid, in time to prevent a catastrophe.

When the slaves were collecting together that evening on the breakwater, Mariano managed to get alongside of his father, who at first was very unwilling to run the risk proposed.

"It's not that I'm afraid o' my neck, lad," said the bluff merchant, "but I fear there is no chance for us, and they might visit their wrath on poor Lucien."

"No fear, father; I am convinced that the Dey has already found out his value. Besides, if we escape we shall be able to raise funds to ransom him."

Francisco shook his head.

"And what," said he, "are we to do when we get clear out of the Bab-el-Oued gate, supposing we are so far lucky?"

"Scatter, and make for the head of Frais Vallon," whispered Castello as he passed. "A boat waits at Barbarossa's Tower. Our signal is--"

Here the Portuguese gave a peculiar whistle, which was too low to be heard by the guards, who were busy marshalling the gang.

"You'll agree, father?" urged Mariano, entreatingly.

The merchant replied by a stern "Yes" as the gang was ordered to move on.

Mariano instantly gave his straw hat a tremendous pull to one side, and walked along with a glow of enthusiasm in his countenance. One of the guards, noting this, stepped forward and walked beside him.

"So much the better," thought Mariano; "there will be no time lost when we grapple."

Traversing the passages of the mole, the gang passed into the town, and commenced to thread those narrow streets which, to the present day, spread in a labyrinth between the port and Bab-el-Oued.

As they passed through one of those streets which, being less frequented than most of the others, was unusually quiet, a low hiss was heard.

At the moment Mariano chanced to be passing an open doorway which led, by a flight of stairs, into a dark cellar. Without an instant's hesitation he tripped up his guard and hurled him headlong into the cellar, where, to judge from the sounds, he fell among crockery and tin pans. At the same moment, Francisco hit a guard beside him such a blow on the chest with his fist, as laid him quite helpless on the ground.

The other ten, who had been selected and let into the intended plot by Castello on account of their superior physical powers, succeeded in knocking down the guards in their immediate neighbourhood, and then all of them dashed with headlong speed along the winding street.

There were one or two passengers and a few small shops in the street, but the thing had been done so suddenly and with so little noise, that the passengers and owners of the shops were not aware of what had occurred until they beheld the twelve captives rush past them like a torrent--each seizing, as he passed, a broom-handle, or any piece of timber that might form a handy weapon.

Of course the other guards, and such of the maltreated ones as retained consciousness, shouted loudly, but they did not dare to give chase, lest the other slaves should take it into their heads to follow their comrades. Poor creatures! most of them were incapable of making such an effort, and the few who might have joined had they known of the plot, saw that it was too late, and remained still.

Thus it happened that the fugitives reached the northern gate of the city before the alarm had been conveyed thither.

The sun had just set, and the warders were about to close the gates for the night, when the desperadoes, bursting suddenly round the corner of a neighbouring lane, bounded in perfect silence through the archway.

The sentinel on duty was for a few moments bereft of the power of action. Recovering himself, he discharged his musket, and gave the alarm. The whole guard turned out at once and gave chase, but the few moments lost by them had been well used by the fugitives; besides, Despair, Terror, and Hope are powerful stimulators. After running a short time together up the steep ascent of the Frais Vallon, or Fresh Valley, they scattered, according to arrangement, and each man shifted for himself--with the single exception of Mariano, who would not leave his father.

Seeing this, the Turks also scattered, but in this condition they began to waver--all the more that the short twilight of those regions was rapidly deepening into night. They reflected that the guarding of their gate was a prior duty to the hunting down of runaway slaves, and, one by one, dropped off, each supposing that the others would, no doubt, go on, so that the officer of the guard soon found himself alone with only one of his men.

Having observed that two of the fugitives kept together, these Turks resolved to keep them in view. This was not difficult, for they were both young and active, while Francisco was middle-aged and rather heavy.

"Stay a moment, boy," cried the bluff padrone, as they tolled up the rather steep ascent of the valley.

Mariano stopped.

"Come on, father; they are overhauling us."

"I know it, boy," said Francisco, taking Mariano by the shoulders and kissing his forehead. "Go thou; run! It is all over with me. God bless thee, my son."

"Father," said the youth impressively, grasping a mass of timber which he had wrenched from a shop front in passing, "if you love me, keep moving on, I will stop these two, or--Farewell!"

Without waiting for a reply, the youth rushed impetuously down the hill, and was soon engaged in combat with the two Turks.

"Foolish boy!" muttered Francisco, hastening after him.

Mariano made short work of the soldier, hitting him such a blow on the turban that he fell as if he had been struck by a sledge-hammer. Unfortunately the blow also split up the piece of timber, and broke it short off at his hands. He was therefore at the mercy of the young officer, who, seeing the approach of Francisco, rushed swiftly at his foe, whirling a keen scimitar over his head.

Mariano's great activity enabled him to avoid the first cut, and he was about to make a desperate attempt to close, when a large stone whizzed past his ear and hit his adversary full on the chest, sending him over on his back.

"Well aimed, father!" exclaimed Mariano, as the two turned and continued the ascent of the valley.

At its head Frais Vallon narrows into a rugged gorge, and is finally lost in the summit of the hills lying to the northward of Algiers. Here the panting pair arrived in half-an-hour, and here they found that all their comrades had arrived before them.

"Friends," said Castello, who was tacitly regarded as the leader of the party, "we have got thus far in safety, thank God! We must now make haste to Pointe Pescade. It lies about three or four miles along the shore. There a negro friend of mine has a boat in readiness. He told me of it only an hour before I spoke to you to-night. If we reach it and get off to sea, we may escape; if not, we can but die! Follow me."

Without waiting for a reply, Castello ran swiftly along a foot-path that crossed over the hills, and soon led his party down towards that wild and rocky part of the coast on which stand the ruins of a fort, said to have been the stronghold of the famous pirate Barbarossa in days of old.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

IS DIPLOMATIC AND OTHERWISE.

Just after the escape of the slaves, as already narrated, the British consul demanded a private audience of the Dey. His request was granted, and one morning early he set off on horseback to the city. Arriving there too soon, he put up his horse, and, threading his way through the streets of the old town, soon found himself in front of the small and unpretending, though massive, portal of Bacri the Jew.

He found the master of the house seated in the central court, or skiffa, drinking coffee with his wife and children.

"Bacri," said the Colonel, "may I venture to interrupt your present agreeable occupation? I wish to have a talk with you in private."

"With pleasure," replied the Jew, rising and ushering his visitor into a small apartment, the peculiar arrangement and contents of which betokened it the wealthy merchant's study or office,--indeed, it might have been styled either with equal propriety, for Bacri, besides being an able man of business, was learned in Arabic literature--of which the town possessed, and still possesses, a valuable library,--and was a diligent student of the Hebrew Scriptures.

"You are aware," said the Colonel, "that I am, at your request, about to use my influence with the Dey in behalf of certain friends of yours. Now, there is an old saying--and I have great respect for many old sayings,--that `one good turn deserves another.' May I, then, ask you to do me a favour?"

"Certainly," said the Jew. "Name it."

"You must know, then, that the Dey has been pleased to send me a pretty Portuguese girl as a slave, along with her infant child."

"I know it," said Bacri.

"You do? Well, this poor girl turns out to be a very sweet creature, and my wife, although somewhat annoyed at first by the unexpected gift, and puzzled what to do with her, is now so fond of her, and finds her so gentle as well as useful, that she has set her heart on having Paulina Ruffini--that is her name--freed and sent home. This, however, is not the point. Paulina has a sister named--"

"Angela Diego," interrupted the Jew.

"Oh! you know that too?" said the Colonel, with some surprise. "You seem to know everything that goes on in this curious city! Indeed, it is a belief in this general knowledge of yours that brings me here. Well, poor Paulina is naturally in great anxiety about her sister's fate, not having heard of her since the day they were cruelly separated by Sidi Hassan. The latter is now my janissary, and tells me that he sold Angela to a Jew in the public market, and does not know where she is. Believing that you can find this out for me, I have come hither this morning on my way to the palace. Do you think you can?"

"I think I can," said the Jew, opening a door and beckoning to some one without. "Come hither, Angela. A gentleman wishes to see you."

"What! is this Paulina's sister?" said the consul in surprise, as a pretty bright-eyed girl obeyed the summons.

"Speak, fair one," said the Jew. "Dost know of one Paulina Ruffini, and her infant Angelina?"

We need scarcely add that Angela admitted, with a look of surprise, that she did, and was overwhelmed with joy on finding that her sister was a happy inmate of the consul's villa, and that in a short time she would be permitted to see her.

Leaving the Jew's house, well satisfied with his unlooked-for success in this matter, the consul proceeded to the palace, and was at once admitted into the audience-chamber.

According to custom, the Dey was seated on a sort of throne, with the huge lion-pup serving as a footstool. We have said before that this lion had a decided antipathy to the British consul. Not being able to speak, it could not give the reason why! Perhaps, although unable to speak, it might have been able to understand what was said, and, possibly, had taken offence at the straightforward manner in which the consul had more than once remonstrated with the Dey for allowing so old a pup to be at large. Be this as it may, certain it is that, on the present occasion, the lion raised its head when the consul was announced. On seeing his hated scarlet uniform, it uttered a savage growl, sprang up, and ran out of the room by another door, with its tail between its legs. In springing up, the brute had forgotten its temporary character of footstool. The result was that the Dey was tilted violently backwards, and fell off his throne in a confused and most undignified heap!

Fortunately for the lion--perchance also for the consul--Achmet possessed too much native dignity and common-sense to allow such an accident to ruffle his temper. He rose and resumed his seat with a hearty laugh, as he said--

"You see, Monsieur le Consul, that even lions are afraid of the English uniform!"

"Your highness is pleased to be complimentary," replied the consul, with a bow; "and that emboldens me to observe that a Dey should not retain the services of one who is capable of showing fear."

"Perhaps you are right," returned Achmet, with a smile; "especially one who has had the audacity to dethrone me.--And now, what demand have you to make of me to-day? Not, I trust, that old one--the liberation of slaves!"

"No, not exactly that," replied the consul. "Nevertheless," he added earnestly, "I do come to make an appeal in behalf of slaves."

The Dey's countenance became grave.

"I refer," continued the consul, "to those unfortunate slaves who recently attempted to escape, and are now lying in chains condemned to be bastinadoed, thrown on the hooks, and otherwise tortured to death."

"How!" exclaimed the Dey, frowning darkly, while a flush of anger covered his face, "can you plead for slaves who have not only rebelled and fled, but who have disabled two of my janissaries, and some of whom--especially their leader Castello and the young Sicilian Mariano-- are so turbulent as to be an absolute nuisance to their guards?"

"Your highness is aware," answered the consul respectfully, "that British ideas in regard to slavery and all connected with it are widely different from those entertained by Algerines, and I do not presume to pass an opinion on the sentences pronounced on men who are held guilty of having violated your laws. I merely plead that you will extend to them the royal prerogative of mercy--especially to two of their number, Francisco and Mariano."

"On what ground do you ask mercy for these?" demanded Achmet sternly.

"On the ground that courageous and worthy men, although tempted to rebel in order to regain their liberty, are not deserving of death; that the Portuguese girl your Highness was so generous as to send me, and who was captured along with them, has interested me deeply in their history, and also on the ground that one is the father and the other the brother of your scrivano Lucien Rimini."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the Dey in surprise, "Lucien never told me that, although his own hand made out the order for their execution!"

"That," answered the consul, with a smile, "is because I advised him to leave the pleading of their cause to me."

"Believing, no doubt," returned the Dey, with a laugh, "that your powers of persuasion are superior to his. Well, Monsieur le Consul, you may be right; nevertheless, let me tell you that short though the time be in which Lucien has been my scrivano, there is that in his modest air and ready will, as well as his talent, which constitutes a sufficient plea to induce me to pardon his relations."

"It rejoices me," said the consul, "to find that, as I expected, your highness's--"

"Yes, yes; say no more on that head," interrupted the Dey. "Here! Lucien," he added, calling aloud to his secretary, who, clad in superb Oriental costume, appeared at the door which led into his office, "make out an order to cancel the sentence against your father and brother, and let them be sent to the palace immediately. I will speak with thee again on the matter.--Meanwhile, will Monsieur le Consul come and behold the present which I am preparing for my royal master the Sublime Porte?"

There was a touch of sarcasm in the tone in which he used the words "royal master," which the consul understood well enough, for he was aware that although nominally subject to Turkey, Algiers was to all intents and purposes an independent power, and that the present referred to was almost all the benefit derived by the Sultan from his piratical vassal.

It was costly enough, no doubt, viewed simply in the light of a gift, and afforded a subject of great interest to the consul when permitted to survey it--an honour, by the way, which the Dey would not have conferred on the consul of any of the other nations represented at the Algerine court, for the British consul at that time was, as we have said, a special favourite. It consisted of two magnificent milk-white Arab horses, richly caparisoned; their saddles and bridles being profusely ornamented with diamonds and other gems, and their shoes being made of pure gold; several boxes of rare and costly jewels; six women-slaves with skins of the most beautiful ebony tint; a number of black-maned lions, several parrots, and a few monkeys.

"Your highness is resolved to please the Sultan by means of variety," observed the consul, with a smile, after commenting on the gift in detail.

"That," replied Achmet, "would have little power to please if the jewels were not numerous and costly. But happily our treasury can afford it, although we have not been very successful in war of late."

He looked at the consul with a sly smile as he spoke, but the latter deemed it wise to be lost in admiration of some of the jewels in question.

After examining the "present," the consul retired, and Achmet went to his private apartments to enjoy a cup of coffee and a pipe.

The room in which he sat was similar to that already described as being the reception-room of the bridal party, only the decorations were if possible more elaborate and sumptuous. Here, seated on rich cushions, with, not his most beautiful, but his wisest wife beside him, Achmet-- once a petty officer of janissaries--gave himself up to the enjoyment of the hour. Christian slaves--once the happy butterflies of European and other lands--attended on him, filled his pipe, brought him hot coffee, and watched his every movement. They were richly dressed, more richly and gaily, perchance, than they had ever been in the days of freedom, when they had been wont to chat and laugh with careless hilarity. But they were mute enough now. A few of them had tasted the bastinado and been tamed; most of them had been wise enough to tame themselves. If Shakespeare had been a Turk he would probably have written a very different version of the Taming of the Shrew!

When coffee was finished, the Dey ordered the attendants to withdraw, and then settling himself comfortably on the cushions, and puffing two white streams of smoke slowly through his nose, in order to gather the fullest enjoyment therefrom, he thus addressed himself to his better-proportion--we had almost said "half," but forgot for the moment that there were several Sultanas!

"Ashweesha, thou art a wise woman. I might almost style thee my guardian angel, for not only hast thou often guided me on the right road, but sometimes thou hast prevented me from straying into the wrong."

Ashweesha, who was a sweet and passably good-looking woman of about thirty, raised her large dark eyes to the face of Achmet with a look of gratitude, but did not reply. Indeed, her husband did not seem to expect an answer, for he continued to smoke for some time in silence, with his eyes fixed abstractedly on a tame gazelle--the kitten of the harem--which tried to attract his attention.

"Thou art sad, or anxious, to-night," said Ashweesha, at length breaking silence.

"Both sad and anxious," replied the Dey slowly. "My position is indeed one of power, but not of comfort or safety."

A shade rested for a moment like a flitting cloud on the face of Ashweesha. Gladly would she have exchanged her high estate, with all its costly and gorgeous array, for a life of humble toil accompanied with peace and security--for she was of gentle nature--but this was denied her.

"Listen," said the Dey, laying aside his pipe and talking earnestly; "it may well chance, as it has happened before, that thy counsel may lighten my care. I am sad because two of my chief officers are snakes in the grass. They are venomous too, and their bite will prove deadly if it be not avoided. Canst thou guess their names, Ashweesha?"

"Sidi Omar and Sidi Hassan," said Ashweesha.

Achmet looked surprised.

"Thou art partly right, though I did not expect thy swift reply. Is it a guess, or hast thou obtained information?"

"I have heard of it from one who is our friend."

"Indeed. Well, thou art right as to Omar, and it is that which makes me sad. Thou art right also in regard to Sidi Hassan, but I care little for him. He is but a tool in the hands of one whose power is great-- Hamet, our Aga of cavalry. Omar I had hoped better things of; but fear him not. The Aga, however, is a dangerous foe, and unscrupulous. I do not clearly see my way to guard against his wiles. My chief safeguard is that he and Omar are bitter enemies. I know not what to do."

"The bow-string," suggested Ashweesha.

The reader must not think this suggestion inconsistent with the character of one whom we have described as gentle and sweet. The Sultana had been trained in a peculiar school, and was as much accustomed to hear of disagreeable and troublesome people being strangled as Europeans are to the drowning of inconvenient kittens.

The Dey laughed.

"Alas! my gentle one," he said, "all powerful and despotic though I be, there are a few officers around me whom I dare not get rid of in this way--at least not just now. But it amuses me to hear thee recommend such strong measures, thou who art always on the side of mercy."

"Truly," said Ashweesha, with a flash in her dark eyes that proved the presence of other elements besides sweetness in her disposition, "my leanings are always towards mercy, save when you have to deal with those who possess no mercy. If you do not apply the bow-string to Hamet in good time, rest assured that he will apply it to you."

The Dey became more serious at this, yet still smiled as he gazed in the flushed countenance of his spouse and adviser.

"Thou art right, Ashweesha," said he, in a meditative tone, "and it is for the purpose of finding out, if possible, when it is the right time to strike that I now take counsel with thee. What wouldst thou advise?"

"Sidi Hassan, you say, has been sent to be the British consul's janissary?"

"Yes."

"For what purpose?" asked the Sultana.

"Partly to keep him out of the way of the mischief which is always brewing more or less in this warlike city; partly to flatter his vanity by placing him in the service of one for whom he knows that I entertain great respect, personally, as well as on account of the powerful nation which he represents; and partly to remind him gently of my power to order him on any service that I please, and to cut off his insolent head if so disposed."

"That is so far well," said Ashweesha, letting her delicate henna-stained fingers play idly with the gorgeous pearls which fell like a lustrous fountain from her neck, "but it is possible that he may reflect on the propriety of trying to secure, at no distant date, a master who will reward him more liberally without conveying covert threats. But much good," she hastened to add, observing that her lord did not much relish her last remark, "much good may result from his being placed under the British consul's roof; for the consul's wife is a wise woman, and may help us to discover some of his plots; for plotting he is certain to be, whether in the city or out of it, and you may be sure that a clever woman like Madame Langley will have her eyes open to all that goes on in her own palace."

"Nay, then, Ashweesha," returned the Dey, laughing, "thou hast studied the lady to small profit if thou dost believe her capable of acting the part of a spy on her own domestics."

"And thou hast studied thy wife to small profit," retorted Ashweesha playfully, "if you think I could make such a mistake as to ask her to become a spy. Does not all the city know that Madame Langley has over and over again refused the most costly bribes offered to induce her to use her influence with her husband? and is it not also well-known that if her influence is to be gained at all, it must be by touching her heart? She is so open, too, in her conduct, that her domestics know all she does. Did I not tell you, the other night, how the chief from Marocco offered her a splendid diamond ring to induce her to intreat her husband's favour in something--I know not what,--and how she flushed with indignation as she refused it, and told the chief that all the diamonds in the world could not move her to attempt the leading of her husband from the path of duty? No, I will not ask her to become a spy, but I will lead her, in conversation, to tell me all she knows, or at least is willing to communicate, about Sidi Hassan; and perchance some good may come of it."

"It may be so," said the Dey; "and where and when dost thou propose to meet with her?"

"Here, and to-morrow."

"How! in the palace?"

"Yes. Ask her and her little girl to come and dine with me," said Ashweesha.

"That would be a high compliment," returned the Dey dubiously; "such as has never been paid before, methinks, by a Dey of Algiers to any consul's wife."

"No matter," returned the Sultana; "you have a high regard for Colonel Langley, and have often paid him unusual compliments,--why not compliment his wife?"

"Well, it shall be done. To-morrow afternoon prepare to receive her."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

MRS. LANGLEY AND AGNES GO OUT TO DINNER.

An agreeable surprise is something like sunshine in November; it warms up the constitution, mentally and physically.

Such a surprise did Mrs Langley receive the morning that followed the evening on which Achmet Dey and his Sultana held their private conversation on the affairs of state. "Agnes!" she exclaimed, reading a note with elevated eyebrows, "just fancy! here is an invitation for you and me to dine with the Dey's wife or wives!"

"Oh! _won't_ that be delightful?" cried Agnes, coming from the court into the room where her mother sat, with such a bound, that she filled with sympathetic excitement the heart of the small negro girl from beyond the Zahara, and caused her to rock the cradle too violently.

"There, you've bumped it again; I knew you would!" said Mrs Langley, in tones of despair.

Poor Zubby's first awful glance of mingled deprecation and self-reproach was so touching that no one but a hardened monster could have withstood it; but the look, with the feelings which it implied, was short-lived. It passed like a summer cloud, and was replaced by an expression of supreme contentment and self-satisfaction when it became apparent that Master Jim was _not_ going to awake, and that Mrs Langley's despair was vanishing. Indeed, that lady's despair was at all times remarkably short-lived. She had been trained in a school of dire adversity ever since the arrival of the coal-black one from beyond the Zahara, and had learned to hope against hope in an extraordinary degree in a case which was absolutely hopeless, for, whatever others might think or hope, Zubby knew herself to be incurable! Not that she was unwilling; on the contrary, there never was a more obliging or amiable creature among the sable daughters of Ham, but she had a tendency to forget herself, (as well as her charge), in moments of sudden emotion or delight, and gave way to burstlets of action, which, if slight, were always inopportune, and sometimes, though not often, disastrous.

"We must get ready immediately," continued Mrs Langley, with a cautioning shake of the head at Zubby, as she turned to Agnes; "because, you know, we may as well take the opportunity to do a little shopping before dinner."

"What! `shopping' in the pirate city?" we hear you exclaim, reader.

Yes, there _was_ shopping there in those days, though it did not bear much resemblance to shopping in more civilised lands. There were no wide fronts or plate-glass windows in those days. Indeed, then, as now, a shop in the Moorish town might be fitly described as a hole in the wall. It was, as it were, a deep window without an interior to speak of. A square hole, six feet by six, and from four to ten feet deep, without glazing or protection of any kind from the weather, except, in some cases, an awning, was a fair average shop; one of eight feet frontage was rather a "grand shop," and one of twelve feet was quite a "bazaar."

Of course such shops were stuffed, like eggs, to an excess of fulness. They gave one the impression that the goods had been packed into smaller space than was possible, and that the introduction of another pin would infallibly explode the whole affair. A passage among the goods in each shop, just big enough to admit an ordinary man, was the scene of action in which the owner disported. This passage did not begin at the street: so much valuable space could not be afforded. A counter laden with small wares had to be leapt in order to gain it, and a rope depending from the ceiling rendered possible the acrobatic feat which was necessary to do so. Purchasers had to stand in the streets and transact business, the said streets being so narrow that there was no room for lobbies or paved foot-paths. While engaged in traffic, buyers were compelled more or less to block the way, and had their garments scraped successively by Turks and Moors and veiled Mohammedan females, by Cabyles from the mountains, negroes from Timbuctoo, white slaves from almost every country in Europe, and donkeys of the most debased and abject type,--these latter, by the way, being quite as capable as the human--though not humane--beings who drove them of going up and down stairs. No slope short of a perpendicular dead wall appeared to be able to stop them, and no wonder, poor wretches! for no torture short of total destruction was spared them.

Ah! ye members of the "Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals" in Algiers, forgive us if we interject here the observation that there is earnest need for your activities at the present day!

Followed by the faithful though uncontrollable Zubby, with a huge triangular grass basket, Mrs Langley entered the tortuous streets of the city, and proceeded to "shop."

Fear not, reader! It is not our purpose to drag you through the details of the too well-known process. We pass onward to matters more important.

Having traversed several streets in which Moors sat cross-legged, embroidering purses and slippers with gold, in holes in the wall so small that a good-sized bust might have objected to occupy them; where cobblers, in similar niches, made and repaired round-toed shoes of morocco leather, and the makers of horn rings for fingers, wrists, arms and ankles wrought as deftly with their toes as with their fingers; where working silversmiths plied their trade in precious metals and gems in a free-and-easy open-air fashion that would have made the mouth of a London thief water; and where idle Arabs sipped coffee and smoked the live-long day, as though coffee and tobacco were the aim and end of life--which latter they proved indeed to many of them,--Mrs Langley with Agnes, followed by Zubby, paused before a niche in which were displayed for sale a variety of curious old trinkets of a nondescript and utterly useless character. In short, it appeared to be an Algerine curiosity-shop. Here, while bargaining with the owner for some small articles, she was surprised to hear a voice at her ear say in French--

"Madame, good morning; I have great pleasure in this unexpected meeting."

She turned hastily, and found the Danish consul standing by her side.

"Ah, monsieur," she said, returning his salutation, "it is indeed seldom that I wander alone through this labyrinth, but necessity compels me. An English friend wishes me to send her a few characteristic articles, and I can trust no one to choose them for me. But, you look anxious."

"Yes, excuse me," replied the Danish consul in haste, glancing round. "I am followed, persecuted I may say. I had intended to call for your husband to-day to beg him to use his influence with the Dey in my behalf, but I cannot--circumstances--in short, will you kindly mention to him that I am in trouble because of the non-payment of the tribute due by our Government, and--"

Breaking off suddenly, the Danish consul bowed low and hurried away. Mrs Langley observed that, immediately after, a chaouse, or executioner of the palace, passed her.

This incident induced her to conclude her shopping rather quickly, and furnished her with food for thought which entirely engrossed her mind until Agnes exclaimed--

"Oh mamma, look! look! they're going to shave a little boy!"

Mrs Langley, directed by Agnes's finger, looked and found that this was indeed true. A little boy, between eight and nine years of age, was seated in a barber's shop near them, with a towel about his neck, glancing timidly, yet confidently, in the face of an elderly man who advanced towards him with an open razor, as though about to cut his throat. As it turned out, however, neither throat nor chin were in danger of violation. It was the head that the barber attacked, and this he scraped quite bare, without the aid of soap, leaving only a tuft of hair on the top. This tuft, we have been informed, is meant as a handle by means of which the owner may, after death, be dragged up into heaven! but we rather incline to the belief that it is left for the purpose of keeping the red fez or skull-cap on the head.

Be this as it may, no sooner did the urchin behold Mrs Langley, than, casting aside the towel and ignoring the barber, he rushed out and exclaimed--in a compound of French, Arabic, and Lingua Franca, of which we give a free translation--

"Oh, missus, me massr, console Dansh, vants see ver moch your hosbund!"

"Thank you; I know it," replied Mrs Langley, giving the boy a small coin and a bright smile.

Quite satisfied that he had fulfilled his duty, the urchin returned to the barber and the lady proceeded to the palace.

Here she was received ceremoniously by the father of Ashweesha, Sidi Cadua, a mild, gentle-spirited, little old Turk, who would have made a very fine old English gentleman, but who was about as well fitted to be father-in-law to an Algerine Dey, and a man of position in the pirate city, as he was to be Prime Minister to the man in the moon.

Sidi Cadua conducted her to the seraglio, where she was heartily welcomed by the ladies, who expressed their delight at meeting her with girlish glee. Ashweesha laughingly said that she was glad to see Agnes had become a Mohammedan, on which Mrs Langley related what circumstances had caused the change, and the Sultana listened to the recital with tears of laughter running down her cheeks.

The English lady had naturally expected something gorgeous in the palace, but she was not prepared for the lavish display of wealth that met her eyes everywhere.

She found the Sultana and her six beautiful children in a room which, though not imposing in size, glittered with decoration. The ceiling and walls were rich with tessellated and arabesque work. The floor was covered with a carpet of cut velvet, with a pattern of the richest and most brightly-coloured flowers; and this carpet was strewn with costly jewels, which shone in the variegated light of the stained-glass windows above like glowing fire-flies. Around the walls were several recesses or niches, arched in the Moorish horse-shoe style. In one of these was a glass cabinet, on the shelves of which were some splendid articles of jewellery. In another recess hung a variety of swords and pistols, chiefly of Eastern manufacture, their handles and scabbards blazing with diamonds. Opposite to these stood a gilt four-post European bedstead, with four mattresses of gold brocade, and curtains of blue tiffany embroidered with gold sprigs. In fact, the apartment and its occupants were adorned with so much magnificence that the genie of Aladdin's famous lamp would not have improved it, for, although that remarkable personage might have brought unlimited treasure to its decoration, he would not have found a spare inch anywhere on which to bestow it!

The Sultana and her children were alone, with the exception of half-a-dozen beautiful Georgian slaves, and one or two negresses, who attended on them. Of course no gentlemen were present!

"My husband is very fond of yours," said Ashweesha, with a pleasant smile, leading her guests to a large cushion on the floor, and squatting them down beside her.

"It gratifies me much to hear you say so," replied Mrs Langley.

They spoke in a jargon of languages, and made up their deficiencies by signs, of which we dare not attempt a characteristic translation.

"He sent you a new slave-girl lately, I believe?" said the Sultana, beginning to feel her way.

"Yes," exclaimed the guest with animation, "it was _very_ kind of him; and I find her _so_ sweet and amiable, and useful too. She assists me with my dear baby so admirably, as well as with the household, that I begin already to feel as if I could not get on without her. Do you know I have set my heart on raising sufficient money to ransom her and set her free?"

"Then you will only lose her, for she will certainly go home to her husband," observed Ashweesha, with a look of simplicity.

"Of course; I count on that," returned Mrs Langley. "You know that we Christians differ from Mohammedans widely on the point of slavery; and I am sure," she added playfully, "you will not think me rude when I say that I mean to take advantage of your laws, and procure the ransom of as many slaves as possible during my residence here."

"If you had the wealth of a king," said Ashweesha, with a smile, "you could not ransom the half of them, they are so numerous."

"I am too well aware of that," rejoined the other sadly; "nevertheless, that does not exempt me from my duty. In the laws of my heavenly King and Saviour Jesus Christ it is written--`Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.'"

The Sultana bent a keen look of interest on her guest, and was about to reply, but seemed to change her mind, and said:--

"It was Sidi Hassan, I am told, who brought in this slave-girl; and, by the way, I hear that he has become your janissary. Do you like him?"

"I have seen so little of him that I can hardly tell.--You have walked with him in the garden, Agnes, several times; what do _you_ think of him?"

"I don't like him at _all_!" answered Agnes, with powerful emphasis.

Both ladies laughed, and so did the six little daughters of the Sultana, who had maintained a dignified silence while their elders were conversing.

"My little girl is rather given to take hasty prejudices," said Mrs Langley apologetically.

"Does your husband find him useful?" continued the Sultana, returning to the charge.

"No doubt he does, but I really cannot say, for my husband has only mentioned him casually, and I never venture to speak of his business affairs unless called on to do so. The fact that Sidi Hassan has been much oftener in town than at our residence since he was sent to us, may account for my slight knowledge about him."

"Oh! he has been very often in town, has he?" exclaimed Ashweesha.

Before Mrs Langley could reply, an attendant announced that dinner was served in the adjoining room, whereupon the Georgian slaves were ordered to pick up the jewels that strewed the carpet. This they did, and, having locked them in the glass cabinet before mentioned, followed the party into the dining-room.

It was a somewhat peculiar dinner in many respects. There was great variety. Meat, poultry, pastry, and sweatmeats of strange kinds and forms, succeeded each other, and were done full justice to by all present. It was like a glimpse of paradise to little Agnes; for, having been brought up in the simplest of styles, and forbidden pastry and sweatmeats altogether since the day of her birth, she absolutely revelled in new sensations.

It must not be supposed that she violently broke through all restraints on this occasion; but her mother saw that if old rules were enforced, the child would be confused by the conflicting entreaties of her hostesses and the denials of her mother, while the Sultana might be offended. Mrs Langley, therefore, gave her _carte-blanche_ to eat what she pleased.

The party all sat on embroidered cushions on the floor, round a small low table made of silver and mother-of-pearl. On this, each dish was placed separately; and all ate out of the same dish, after the Moorish fashion. The spoons were made of rosewood, tipped with amber, and the napkins were richly embroidered in gold, silver, and variously coloured silk on a curiously-wrought linen ground. All the vessels used were of the most elaborate and costly description, and we need scarcely add that the viands were good. Among other things there was fish, which was served and eaten with honey! but the chief among the dishes was kooskoos. This was the _piece de resistance_ of the Moorish dinner-table, the substance on which the ladies chiefly fed and flourished. To be fat was, in those days, the most desirable attribute of a wife in the eyes of an Algerine husband, therefore kooskoos was eaten in quantity. It was made largely of flour, rolled, in some mystical manner, into the form of little pellets, like small sago; this, boiled with butter and other fatty substances, with bits of meat and chicken, and other viands mixed through it,--the whole being slightly seasoned and spiced,--was deemed food fit for a Sultana.

During the meal they became very chatty, and the young people paid much attention to Agnes, who, being a sensitively good girl, felt, every time that she experienced a new taste, as though she were breaking all the Ten Commandments, notwithstanding the permission of her mother!

Several times Ashweesha turned the conversation on the home affairs of her guests, and attempted to gain further information about Sidi Hassan's doings, but found, much to her annoyance, that Mrs Langley knew little more than she had already communicated. Her good-humour was, however, restored by that lady's unaffected admiration of the numerous lovely things by which she was surrounded. She specially praised the splendid napkins and the spoons before referred to, and when they rose from table, the Sultana presented her and Agnes with those that they had used.

After giving them coffee and making another vain attempt to extract information, Ashweesha dismissed her guests, who returned home charmed with the novelty of their reception and entertainment.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

RELATES SOMETHING ABOUT IMPROVEMENTS, SURPRISES, AND CHANGES IN THE STATE OF AFFAIRS.

In consequence of the opportune interference of the British consul, and of the good-will which Lucien had inspired in the breast of the Dey, a ray of light stole into the gloomy Bagnio, and tended to cheer at least two of the slaves.

This ray was conveyed by means of the Padre Giovanni, whom we have elsewhere mentioned as being the friend and benefactor of the slaves.

Previous to his visit a cloud had overshadowed the prison. Several chaouses had entered, and, after loading Castello and the other runaways with chains, had led them forth to death. It would be painful as well as unnecessary to detail the terrible tortures under which these wretched men perished. The remaining slaves knew well the nature of the fate that awaited them, and the blank caused by the disappearance for ever of their well-known faces, was fitted to restrain all thoughts of rebellion, had such existed. Some surprise was felt at first by all the slaves at the delay of punishment in the case of Francisco and Mariano, but after the first hour or two had passed, they ceased to give the matter a thought.

When, therefore, the old man Giovanni entered the Bagnio and informed these two that the Dey had reprieved them, and commanded their attendance at the palace, their surprise was re-awakened, and speculation as to the cause of such unusual proceedings was revived.

"I am the bearer of still further tidings," said the old man, taking a letter from a sort of wallet that hung from his shoulder, and handing it to Francisco.

"From Juliet!" exclaimed Francisco, tearing it open and reading aloud eagerly:--

"`Dearest Father,--It is not possible to express to you the agony that
we endured on hearing that you had been taken captive by the
Algerines. Oh, why are such monsters allowed to live? ("Why,
indeed!" interjected Francisco, bitterly.) But take comfort. God
watches over us all. Some of your old friends here have begun to
collect money for your ransom, and I work hard to increase the sum--
but oh! how slowly it grows! Even darling grandmamma has got some
light sewing work which brings in a little. But our hearts mourn
because of you. We earnestly hope that the pirates treat you well,
("Thank God they do not know anything about _that_," muttered
Francisco), and we feel almost sure that they do, because we have been
told that they are careful of the slaves who, they hope, will be
ransomed. I have therefore written to the Dey--how I hated him while
I wrote the humble letter!--telling him that we hoped to raise the sum
in a short time. Every one here is very kind and sympathises with us,
besides giving a contribution to the fund.

"`This letter goes by a French vessel which is to touch at Algiers,
and which conveys a priest who has a large sum of money with him to
ransom Sicilian and other slaves. I entreated him to ransom you with
part of it, but he smiled pitifully, and said the money had been
raised by the friends of particular slaves, some of whom had been many
years in captivity, and that it could not be diverted from its proper
objects. How my heart sank when he spoke of some being in slavery for
many years! But it was cheered again when I reflected how hard we are
all working to raise the money for you and Lucien and Mariano. We
send you all our dear love.--Your affectionate daughter.

"Shall I have an opportunity of answering this?" asked Francisco, eagerly.

"Yes; I am about to conduct you to the palace, where your son Lucien-- who, I may mention, is a favourite--awaits you."

"You mustn't let them know the truth, father," said Mariano earnestly.

"Would you have him tell them what is false?" asked the Padre gravely.

"No, no," replied the youth, with a laugh, "but there is no occasion to mention all that we have suffered, you know; and there is a good deal--I mean a little--that is agreeable to communicate. For instance, this very summons to the palace, and Lucien's good luck."

"Trust me, lad," said Francisco; "I won't fail to cheer them if I can, and you may be sure I won't exaggerate our misfortunes.--But lead on, old man; I am anxious to get out of this foul den as quickly as--"

"Forgive me, comrades," he added, checking himself, and turning to the slaves near him; "I am grieved more than I can tell to leave you behind. If by remaining I could lighten your sorrows, I would gladly do so. It may seem presumptuous in one who is himself a slave to say so, yet I can't help assuring you that if the Almighty is pleased to give me any power in this city, I won't forget you."

This speech was received with a kindly nod by some, and a laugh of scorn by others.

Probably the latter had heard similar sentiments before from somewhat kindred and hearty spirits, and had learned from sad experience that nothing ever came of their good-will.

Following the old man, the father and son were soon in the presence of Lucien, who received them, as may well be believed, with a full heart.

"God bless you, my son," said Francisco, "for well assured am I that it is through your influence that we are here."

"It is through the influence of the British consul," replied Lucien.

"Well, I pray for a blessing on you both, for it is useless to tell me that _you_ have had no hand in it."

"I do not say that I had no hand in it. On the contrary, I wrote out the order for your acquittal; and," added Lucien, with a peculiar smile, "I also had previously written out your and Mariano's death-warrant!"

"You are jesting, lad," said Francisco.

"Indeed, I am not," returned Lucien, relating the circumstances of the whole matter to his astonished and somewhat horrified auditors.

"And now," he continued, "I must let you know your destination. Don't be disappointed. You must remember that we are slaves, and have just been delivered from the Bagnio. The Dey seems to have taken a fancy for me--"

"I don't wonder," interrupted Mariano enthusiastically, seizing and squeezing his brother's hand.

"And," continued Lucien, "he has permitted me to select situations for you. I have arranged that you, father, shall be my assistant in the secretary's office, and that you, Mariano, shall be shopman to Bacri the Jew."

Lucien looked awkwardly at his father and brother as he spoke, feeling uncertain, no doubt, as to the manner in which they would receive this information. He was therefore rather relieved than otherwise by a smile on the face of Mariano.

"Why, Lucien," he said, "I always thought you a great original, and this last display of your powers confirms me in my opinion. Not that I deem it strange your having appointed father your clerk--for, in the circumstances, it would have been charity to have appointed him even to the office of shoe-black--anything being better than the Bagnio,--but what wild fancy induced you to make _me_ shop-boy to a Jew?"

"That," replied Lucien, "you shall find out in good time--only, pray, remember that I am not the Dey's Grand Vizier, and have not many places to offer."

"Well, well, be it so," returned the other; "I am well content with what your wisdom provides."

"And so am I," said Francisco, cheerfully. "I suppose you will feed us better than we have been fed of late?"

"That will I, father, but there is no pay attached to your offices, for slaves, you know, get no wages."

"They get splendid habiliments, it would seem," observed Francisco, regarding his son with twinkling eyes. "But come, Lucien, I am all impatience to begin the work of under-secretary of state! You bear in remembrance, I trust, that I can read and write nothing save my mother tongue?"

"Yes; Italian will suffice, father; such of the duties as you fail to perform I can easily fulfil.--Now, Mariano," he said, taking his brother aside, and speaking in a low earnest tone, "see that you act wisely in the situation I have selected for you. The Jew is a kind, good man, despite what is said about his worship of Mammon. I would that all in this city were like him, for in that case we should have no slavery. During the short period I have held my office, my eyes have been opened to much that I may not mention. There, the very walls of this palace have ears! I have said enough. You remember Angela?"

"Remember her!" exclaimed Mariano, with a deep flush and a look of intense surprise, "how can you ask me, Lucien?"

"Well, you will hear of her from Bacri. Good bye--go!"

He rang a bell as he spoke, and ordered the slave who answered the summons to lead Mariano to the abode of Bacri; at the same time he took his father's hand and conducted him to his office or bureau.

Amazed at all that had happened, particularly at his summary dismissal by his brother, the youth followed his conductor in silence, and in a short time reached the iron-bolted door of the chief of the Jews.

"This is Bacri's house," said his guide in Italian, and, having discharged this duty, he turned on his heel, and abruptly left him.

Pausing a moment to think, and finding that the more he thought the less he seemed to be capable of thinking to any purpose, Mariano applied his knuckles to the door.

For a youth of his character it was a timid knock, and produced no result.

Mariano was one who--in peculiar circumstances, like those in which at that time he found himself--might once in a way act with timidity, but he was not the man to act so twice. Finding that the first knock was useless, he hit the door a blow that caused the old house to resound. In a few seconds it was opened slightly, and the face of a beautiful girl in Jewish costume appeared.

If Mariano had been suddenly petrified he could not have stood more rigidly motionless; amazement sat enthroned on his countenance.

"Angela!"

"Signor Mariano!"

The words in each case were followed by a deep flush, and Angela retreated.

Of course Mariano advanced.

"Excuse--forgive me, signorina," he exclaimed, taking her hand respectfully. "I did not know--of course I could not--how was it possible that--the fact is, I came to see a Jew, and--and--"

"I've found a jewel," he _might_ have said, but that didn't seem to occur to him!

"Bacri--that's his name!" continued Mariano. "Is Bacri within? I came to see him, but--"

"Yes--Signor Bacri is at home," said Angela, much confused by the youth's confusion, as well as by the sudden and unexpected nature of the meeting. "But your father--and brother Lucien--Oh, I hope they are well; that they have not been treated cruelly; that they are not in that dreadful Bagnio, of which I have heard so much," said Angela, at last finding the use of her tongue.

They were interrupted at this point by the appearance of Bacri himself, who welcomed the youth to his house, said that he had been told by Lucien to expect him, and introduced him to his wife and the other members of his family.

Thereafter the Jew took his new shopman into his private apartment, and made many strange revelations to him in regard to the affairs of the piratical city, as well as about the details of his new appointment, in regard to which we shall say nothing here; but it may be well to add that Mariano finally retired for the night well satisfied with the wisdom of his elder brother.

For some time after this, things went well with those actors in our tale in whose welfare we are chiefly interested.

Francisco proved himself to be an able clerk--when assisted by his superior!--and Mariano became a most willing and useful shopman--with the prospect before him of returning each night to bask in the sunshine of Angela's countenance!

At the consul's residence Paulina was as happy as was possible in her sad circumstances, for she became very fond of Mrs Langley, and was a perfect treasure in the house,--not only taking a large part of the management thereof, but keeping watchful guard over the dangerous Zubby, so that that Zaharan specimen of humanity inflicted a perceptibly smaller percentage of bumps on the head of Master Jim than in former times. Paulina's baby, too, began to indicate signs of intelligence by crowing, knocking over whatever it came within reach of, and endeavouring to dig the eyes out of every one who permitted familiarities, especially the eyes of Master Jim, who, it is but fair to add, soon displayed superior capacity in the same line, so that the parents agreed mutually that they would soon be sweet playmates to each other, and that they were the most delicious babes that ever were or could be born. Ted Flaggan also remained a happy inmate of the consul's abode, awaiting the arrival of a British vessel which might enable him to depart, but not at all anxious for that consummation, and, in the meantime, making himself generally useful.

Down at the Marina, too, the state of things was a little, though not much, improved. Another guardian of the slaves had been appointed,--the former one having been strangled on account of some wickedness reported by enemies to have been done by him, and of which he was afterwards found to be entirely innocent.

His successor was a man of better nature, who, although he kept the slaves hard at their toil, and did not abate the lash or bastinado, nevertheless supplied them with occasional comforts, such as an extra roll of bread when extra work had to be done, or even a glass of spirits when, as was often the case, they were called up at nights, in drenching rain and cold, to protect the shipping in the harbour, and prevent wreck, when sudden gales arose.

Thus the aspect of things in the pirate city, bad though it was, became a little brighter, and continued so for some time, until an event occurred which flung a darker cloud than usual over the ever changing scene.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE PLOT THICKENS, AND MARIANO'S FORBEARANCE AND COURAGE ARE TESTED.

When the commander-in-chief of cavalry condescended to pay a visit to a Jew, it was a sign that events of considerable importance were hovering in the air. The approach, therefore, of Sidi Hamet to the residence of Bacri one night, under cover of the darkness, was regarded by the Jew with feelings of misgiving, which caused his face to become suddenly very grave, as he looked through the little iron-bound hole, or window, which commanded a view of his court.

The Aga carried no light, although the laws ordained that all who moved about after night-fall should do so; but Bacri knew him as well by his outline and gait as if he had seen his face in the sunshine.

Descending the stair at once, the Jew opened the door and let him in.

"Thou art surprised, Bacri?" said Hamet, swaggering into the skiffa, where Angela chanced to be at work at the time.--"Ha! thou hast a pretty daughter," he added, with a gaze of insolent admiration.

"The girl is passing fair," replied the Jew, opening the door of his study, and purposely avoiding the correction of the Aga's mistake. "Please to enter here."

Hamet obeyed; remarking as he passed that the girl were worthy of being the wife of a Dey, if she had not been a Jewess.

"Bacri," he said, sitting down, while the master of the house stood respectfully before him, "thou knowest the object of my visit--eh? Come, it is not the first time thou hast had to do with such as I. The plot thickens, Bacri, and thou must play thy part, willing or not willing. Say, how much is it to be?"

"How much do you demand?" asked the Jew.

The Aga rose and whispered in his ear.

"Impossible!" said Bacri, shaking his head decidedly.

"How, dog! impossible?" exclaimed the Turk sternly. "Dost know that I can let the whole Turkish army loose on thee and thy false-hearted race?"

"My race is maligned alike by Mohammedan and Christian," returned the Jew, with dignity. "You know full well, Sidi Hamet, that the sum you have named would ruin all the Jews in the town. If the security of my people is not to be purchased for a smaller sum, we must perish. My utmost efforts would not avail to raise more than the half thereof within the specified time. You may indeed ruin us, if you will, but it were wise to remember that if you kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, there will be no more golden eggs to lay."

"True, O Bacri," returned Hamet, laughing; "thou art wise, and I shall act on thy wisdom--having first, however, acted on mine own when I demanded double the sum I expected to receive, knowing thine inveterate tendency to drive a hard bargain! Now, good-night," he said, rising and leaving the room.--"Ha! thy pretty daughter has fled. Well, we shall hope to see her again. Mean while, have a care; our plot is in your hands, but thine every movement shall be watched from this hour, and if a note of warning escapes thee, thou art but a dead man!"

Saying this, the Aga departed, and Bacri, returning to the skiffa, summoned Mariano, who had been engaged in another part of the house when Hamet entered.

"Come hither, lad," said the Jew, while a careworn expression seemed to settle on his handsome features; "I have work for you to do which requires courage and speed. Hamet the Aga--I may say, the black-hearted Aga--has been here on an errand which I have been looking forward to for some months. You may be aware, perhaps, that in this barbarous city there is no hereditary succession of Deys. Each Dey is elected by the Turkish janissaries from among the men of their own ranks; one result of which is that various factions are kept up in the army, and the most vigorous man among them, the one who can command the greatest number of admirers and followers, generally wins the unenviable but much-coveted post. When the reigning Dey becomes unpopular, the factions begin to ferment; and, instead of waiting for him to die, they invariably strangle, poison, or behead him. The factions generally have some disturbance among themselves, but in any case, the consequence of a revolution of this kind is, that complete anarchy prevails in the city, and, until a new Dey is elected by the janissaries, the Moors and Jews are at the mercy of the rude soldiery. Of course, all who have enemies among them hide themselves and their pelf, if possible, until the anarchy ceases, which it does the moment the green standard of the Prophet is hoisted on the terrace of the palace, announcing that a new Dey is seated on the warm throne of his not quite cold predecessor.

"I tell you all this," continued the Jew impressively, "that ye may understand what is about to happen and know how to act. It is a sharp ordeal to go through, but a short one; the scene of violence lasting usually but one day. Still, that affords ample time for irreparable injury to be done.

"It is usual, just before a revolution, for the dominant faction to make an arrangement with the persecuted Jews, so that, in virtue of the payment of a large sum, their families and possessions may be spared. Of course, we are compelled to agree to this, and even compliance does not always secure us, because when violent men are once let loose, they often become unmanageable for a time, even by those who command them. Still, the payment of this unjust tax is our only safeguard. This evening, Sidi Hamet, the commander-in-chief of cavalry, has been here to make the arrangement with me. I have long known of his designs; indeed, we Jews know nearly all the secret plots that go on around us; for gold is potent, and we have those who are willing to give us information both in the palace and in the casba. I likewise know that Sidi Omar, whom you may have seen, also aims at the throne; but he has no chance against his rival Hamet, who is a more powerful man in mind and body, besides being younger. Your old enemy Sidi Hassan has agreed to assist Hamet, who has promised to reward him with the office next in dignity to his own. I have more than once warned Achmet of what is plotting, for he has been kinder to my people than most of the Deys who preceded him, but he is strangely slow in guarding himself. He is a bold, fearless man, and perchance trusts too much to a popularity which for some time has been on the wane--chiefly, I believe, because he is not a sufficiently unprincipled villain to please the taste of the lawless crew over whom he reigns."

"This is a dreadful state of things!" said Mariano, who had listened to the narration in silent amazement.

"It is indeed dreadful," returned Bacri, "and yet, although the European powers must be thoroughly aware of it, through their consuls, this is the state of things that they not only tolerate, but absolutely sanction by the presence of their representatives and the payment of tribute."

"Tribute!" exclaimed Mariano, in a tone of indignation, "is it possible that tribute is paid by the great powers to these miserable pirates?"

"Even so, young man," answered Bacri, with a smile, "just as we Jews pay them tribute to avoid being pillaged--only, without having our excuse. We are compelled to do it; but no one can suppose for a moment that a small power like Algiers can _compel_ nearly all the maritime nations to bow before it. Nevertheless, the nations _do_ submit, some of them to very humiliating terms. You saw the Swedish frigate conveying two store-ships that entered the port yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Well, these vessels contained the annual tribute due by Sweden, and that country is also bound by treaty to furnish the Dey with a person capable of directing his gunpowder factory! Denmark not only pays tribute, but is bound to pay it in naval stores, and her consul here is at present in disgrace because his country has failed to pay its tribute at the specified time. There is an American ship just now detained in port because the nation to which it belongs is also dilatory in paying up what is due by treaty, therefore the American consul is also in the Dey's black books; and I may add in regard to him that, at the time of his appointment to his office, he gave the Dey a consular present of sixteen thousand Spanish dollars. Even that notorious warrior Napoleon, who is at present turning Europe upside down, thought it worth his while lately to send to the Dey a present of telescopes and other things to the amount of four thousand pounds; and England, that great nation which styles herself mistress of the seas, cannot enter the Mediterranean with her merchant ships until she has paid toll to this exacting city."

"Now," continued Bacri, stopping abruptly in his account of these matters, "I must not waste more time on a subject which is incomprehensible. Indeed, I would not have said so much were it not that the hour is yet too early for the undertaking which I have in view for you.

"Achmet, then, must be at once put on his guard; but to do so is no easy matter, for his enemies surround him. It would be impossible for me, or any one sent by me, to gain admittance to him. I am already under surveillance, and should forfeit my life were I to attempt it. The only method I can think of is to send to the British consul, and let him know what is pending. He is the only consul here to whom the Dey will grant an immediate unquestioning audience. You are active and strong, Mariano, and are, I believe, willing to aid me."

"Indeed I am," replied the youth fervently.

"I need scarcely tell you," said Bacri sadly, "that you and your friends are intimately concerned in the safety of the present Dey, for if he falls it will go ill with all connected with him, especially with the Scrivano-Grande, your brother Lucien, and your father."

"I guessed as much," said Mariano, with an anxious look; "but, tell me, is there likely to be much danger to this house and its inmates?"

"I think not, I hope not, Mariano, but there is no place of absolute safety for me or mine in the city. I might indeed take refuge in the British consulate, but I prefer to remain where I am, and put my trust in God."

"Then you and yours," returned the youth, with hesitation, "may want the aid of a stout and willing arm. Is it well that I should leave you at this crisis?"

"Fear not; I think there will be ample time for you to go and return, if you make haste," said the Jew.

"Then let me go at once," urged the other.

"Not so," answered Bacri; "we must proceed wisely as well as with caution.--Go, Angela," he said to the maiden, who entered the room at that moment, "open the closet at the head of the terrace stair; you will find a thin knotted rope hanging there,--fetch it hither."

In a few minutes Angela returned with the rope.

"Sit thee down, pretty one," said Bacri kindly, "while I give this youth some directions. I will explain to you afterwards the cause of his being sent away.--This line, Mariano, is all you need. It is long enough to reach from the city walls to the ground. You will go towards the tower to the west of Bab-Azoun gate. There is an iron spike on the wall there, on which is fixed the head of your poor friend Castello. Fasten the rope to the spike and lower yourself. The ground reached, leave the rope hanging, it will serve for your ascent on returning; then speed round the back of the town, and over the hills by Frais Vallon to the house of the British consul, tell him of the urgent need there is for his seeing the Dey and letting him know the danger which hovers over his head, and then return as fast as possible. This rope you will find suitable to its objects. An active young fellow like you can have no difficulty in re-mounting the walls with the aid of these knots, and you need not fear interruption if you exercise ordinary caution, for Turkish soldiers, like the warriors of all nations, become arrant cowards when supernatural fears assail them. Poor Castello's head will keep the nearest sentinel as far off as is consistent with his duty. No doubt they are well used to trunkless heads in this city, but there is a vast difference between the sight of such in the glare of day, when surrounded by comrades, and amid the excitement of war or an execution, and a similar head in the stillness of a calm night during the solemn hours of a long and solitary watch."

"But why not allow me to start off at once?" asked Mariano, with some impatience at the Jew's prolixity.

"Because the sentinels will not be relieved for an hour yet, and it is well to make such an enterprise as near to the relief as possible-- wearied men at the end of a long watch being less on the alert than at the beginning of it. Besides, the moon will be lower in half an hour, and that will favour your enterprise."

Being constrained to wait, Mariano busied himself in making the useful preparations. He wound the rope tightly round his waist, and covered it with a thin scarf such as was commonly worn by the Moors. He also trimmed and prepared a small lantern.

"Now," said Bacri, looking at his watch, "you may go. But, stay--not in the direction of our usual passage. You could not move ten yards from my door to-night without being intercepted. Follow me; I have long been prepared for emergencies such as this."

"Good-night, Angela," said Mariano, extending his hand, as he prepared to follow the Jew.

"Oh, be careful," said Angela earnestly. "From the little I have heard it seems that there is much danger impending."

"What I can do to avert it shall be done," replied the youth, kissing his hand to the girl as he passed through the doorway and followed his master to the terrace-roof of the house.

We have said that Algerine roofs are flat, but they are by no means regular. There are often various elevations on the same roof, and various forms, as if the architect had terminated the summits of the several walls and partitions at the dictates of a wayward fancy rather than a settled plan. In some cases a step--in others a flight of steps--formed the communication between one part of a roof and another, while division-walls varying from a foot to two yards in height, cut it up into irregular squares and triangles. Such roofs are eminently fitted for the game of "hide and go seek," to which, doubtless, they have been applied more or less since the days of Abraham.

Issuing on the terrace of his house, then, Bacri pointed out to Mariano, by the light of the moon, which was slowly descending to its bed in the Sahel hills, that the roof of his neighbour's house could be easily reached by a single step.

"You will cross over this roof," he said, taking a ring from his finger and placing it on that of his slave, "and be sure that you tread with care until you come to the other edge of it, where you will be able to place yourself in the shadow of a chimney until a cloud covers the moon. My neighbour is not a friend, therefore tread like a cat. Attend well to my directions now, and obey them implicitly. You require no arms. Whatever happens to you, offer no resistance, as that will only ensure death. When the moon is clouded leap to the next roof, which you may see now in line with yonder minaret. There is about six feet between the two--which is nothing to a youth like you; only be careful, for failure will plunge you into the street, sixty feet below. That terrace gained, you are on friendly ground. Go, knock gently at the door leading to the house below, and show the owner my ring, asking him at the same time to guide you to the street, after which you know how to act; and may the God of Abraham direct you. Stay! If the owner of the house, who is a Jew, should use you roughly, heed it not. Whatever you do, be passive. Your own life, and it may be the lives of others, depends on this."

The first part of the Jew's caution would have availed little, for when Mariano was roused he recked little of his own life; but the reference to others reminded him of Angela and his father, so that he made up his mind to be a very model of forbearance whatever should happen.

Stepping easily from the house of the Jew to the terrace of his neighbour, he proceeded with extreme caution to the chimney pointed out to him, and took his stand under its shadow.

It was a time and situation which induced many burning thoughts and sad reflections to chase each other through the youth's brain, as he awaited impatiently the clouding of the moon. From the elevated point on which he stood nearly the whole city lay spread out at his feet, its white terraces, domes, and minarets shining like silver in the pale light, and contrasting vividly with the dark blue bay lying between it and the distant range of the Jurjura mountains. Everything was profoundly calm, quiet, and peaceful, so that he found it difficult to believe in the fierce passions, black villainy, horrible cruelty, and intolerable suffering which seethed below. For some time his eyes rested on the palace of the Dey, and he thought of his father and Lucien with deep anxiety.

Then they wandered to the hated Bagnio, and he thought with pity of the miserable victims confined there, and of the hundreds of other Christian men and women who toiled in hopeless slavery in and around the pirate city. Passing onward, his eyes rested on the light-house and fortifications of the port, and he wondered whether any of the powerful nations of the earth would ever have the common-sense to send a fleet to blow such a wasps' nest into unimaginable atoms!

At this point his thoughts were interrupted by the darkening of the moon by a thick cloud, and the sudden descent of deep shadow on the town--as if all hope in such a blessed consummation were forbidden.

Turning at once to the parapet of the terrace, he mounted, but paused a moment, as he endeavoured to gauge the distance of the opposite wall, and gazed into the black gulf below. Bacri had told him that the space was six feet. In the darkness that now prevailed it appeared twenty. He would have ventured it in the circumstances had it been sixty!

Collecting all his energies and courage, he made a bound forward that might have roused the envy of an acrobat, and cleared not only the space between but the parapet beyond, coming down with an awful crash into the midst of a certain box-garden, which was the special pride of the owner of the mansion.

Poor Mariano leaped up in horror, and listened with dread, but suddenly remembering that he now stood on what Bacri had termed friendly ground, he recovered self-possession and sought for the door on the roof. Finding it after some trouble, he knocked gently.

It was opened much sooner and more violently than he had anticipated, and a tall man springing out seized him by the throat in a grasp like a vice, and held a gleaming dagger to his breast.

In other circumstances Mariano would certainly have engaged in a struggle for the dagger, but remembering Angela and the Jew's warning, he gave back, and said in French, as well as the vice-like grip would allow--

"A friend."

"Truly," replied the man gruffly, in Lingua Franca, "thy knock might imply friendship, but thine appearance here at such an hour requires more explanation than a mere assurance."

"Remove your hand and you shall have it," replied the youth, somewhat angrily. "Dost suppose that if I had been other than a friend I would not have ere now flung thee headlong from thine own terrace?"

"Speak quickly, then," returned the man, relaxing his hold a little.

"This ring," said the youth.

"Ha! Enough, a sure token," interrupted the Jew, in a low friendly tone, on seeing the ring, at the same time leading Mariano within the doorway. "What wouldst thou?"

"Nothing more than to be shown the nearest way to the street."

"That is soon done--follow me."

In a few minutes Mariano found himself in a narrow street, down which, after lighting his lantern and thanking the Jew, he proceeded at a rapid pace.

In the intricacies of that curious old town the youth would certainly have lost himself, but for the fact that it was built, as we have said, on the slope of a hill, so that all he had to do was to keep descending, in order to secure his final exit into the principal thoroughfare-- Bab-Azoun.

Few persons met him at that hour, and these appeared desirous of avoiding observation. After passing the Bagnio with a shudder, he extinguished the lantern. And now the real danger of his enterprise had begun, because he was acting illegally in traversing the streets after dark without a light, and liable to be taken up and punished by any of the guards who should find him. He proceeded therefore with great caution; keeping close to the walls in the darkest places, and gliding into doorways to hide when any one approached. Thus he succeeded escaping observation, and had almost reached the city wall, not far from the spot where it was garnished by poor Castello's head, when he heard the tramp of soldiers. They were about to turn a corner which would in another second have brought him full into view. To retreat was impossible, and no friendly doorway stood open to receive him. In this extremity he pressed himself into a niche formed by a pillar and an angle of the house beside him. It could not have concealed him in ordinary circumstances, but aided by darkness there was some possibility of escaping notice. Crushing himself against the wall with all his might, and wishing with all his heart that he had been a smaller man, he breathlessly awaited the passing of the soldiers.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

IN WHICH TED FLAGGAN AND HIS FRIEND RAIS ALI ACT A CONSCIOUS PART, AND A POLITICAL STORM BEGINS TO BREAK.

There is unquestionably many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, but on the present occasion there was no such slip. Mariano succeeded in diminishing and flattening himself to such an extent that the janissaries passed without observing him. The moment they were out of sight he glided from his hiding-place, and soon found his way to the top of the ramparts, near the Bab-Azoun gate. The head of Castello was at his elbow; the wearied Turkish sentinel was not a hundred yards distant Mariano could see him clearly defined against the eastern sky every time he reached the end of his beat.

"If he takes it into his head to walk this way, I am lost," thought Mariano.

It seemed as if the man had heard the thought, for he walked slowly towards the spot where the youth lay at full length on the ground. There was no mound or niche or coping of any kind behind which a man might conceal himself. The dead man's head was the only object that broke the uniformity of the wall. In desperation, Mariano lay down with it between himself and the advancing sentinel, and crept close to it--so close that while he lay there he fancied that a drop of something cold fell from it and mingled with the perspiration that stood in large beads upon his brow!

The sentinel stopped just as Mariano was preparing to spring upon and endeavour to strangle him. He looked earnestly and long in the direction of the dead man's head, as if in meditation on its owner's untimely fate, or, possibly, on the unusual length and solidity of the shadow that tailed away from it!

Fortunately he advanced no further, but, turning on his heel, walked slowly away. Just then the moon shot forth a ray of light from the midst of the cloud that had covered it, as if to cheer the fugitive on his desperate adventure. Instead of cheering, however, it alarmed him, and expedited his movements.

In a moment Mariano put a loop of his rope over the head and drew it tight on the spike close to the masonry. Another moment and he was over the parapet, down the wall, and into the ditch. Here again unusual caution was needful, but the youth's cat-like activity enabled him to overcome all obstacles. In a few minutes he was speeding over the Sahel hills in the direction of Frais Vallon.

We need scarcely say that wind and muscle were tried to their uttermost that night. In an incredibly short space of time he reached the gate of the consul's garden, which stood open, and darted in.

Now it chanced that night that the stout British seaman, Ted Flaggan, lay in a hammock suspended between two trees in a retired part of the consul's garden, the weather being so warm that not only he but several of the other domestics had forsaken their dwellings during the night, and lay about the grounds in various contrivances more or less convenient, according to the fancy or mechanical aptitude of the makers thereof.

Flaggan had, out of pure good-will, slung a primitive hammock similar to his own between two trees near him for his friend Rais Ali, in which the valiant Moor lay sound asleep, with his prominent brown nose pointing upwards to the sky, and his long brown legs hanging over the sides. Ted himself lay in a wakeful mood. He had fought unsuccessfully for some hours against a whole army of mosquitoes, and now, having given in, allowed the savage insects to devour him unchecked.

But the poor victim found it difficult to lie awake and suffer without occupation of any kind; he therefore arose and cut from a neighbouring hedge a light reed which was long enough to reach from his own hammock to that of his friend. With the delicate end of this, while reclining at his ease, he gently tickled Rais Ali's nose.

After making several sleepy efforts to kill the supposed insect that troubled him, and giving vent to three or four violent sneezes, the interpreter awoke, and, growling something in Arabic, opened his eyes, which act enabled him to observe that his neighbour was awake and smiling at him.

"Ha! yous not be for sleep, hey? Mos' troubelzum brutes dem muskitoes."

"Och! it's little I mind 'em," said Flaggan.

"W'y you no for sleep, den?" demanded Rais.

"'Cos I likes to meditate, young man, specially w'en I've got sitch a splendid subjic' of contemplation before me as a slumberin' Moor! Won't ye go in for a little moor slumberin', eh?"

Rais turned his back on his friend with an indignant growl. He was evidently indisposed for jesting.

In a few seconds, being indifferent to real mosquitoes, the Moor was again sound asleep. It was soon clear, however, that he was not indifferent to Ted's artificial insect. Being unable now to reach his nose, the restless son of Erin thrust the feathery point of the reed into his friend's ear. The result was that Rais Ali gave himself a sounding slap on the side of the head, to Ted's inexpressible delight. When Rais indicated that he was "off" again, he received another touch, which resulted in a second slap and a savage growl, as the unfortunate man sat up and yawned.

"They seems wuss than ornar," said Flaggan gravely.

"Wuss? I nebber know'd noting wusser," replied Rais, with a look of sleepy exasperation. "Beats ebberyting. Been five-an'-twenty 'eer in de kontry, an' _nebber_ seed de like."

"_Seed_ the like!" echoed the seaman. "Did ye saw 'em when ye was aslape?"

"Feel um, then," replied the other sulkily; "yoos too purtikler."

"Suppose we goes an' has a whiff?" suggested Flaggan, leaping to the ground. "It's a fine night entirely, tho' a dark 'un. Come, I'll trate ye to a taste o' me cavendish, which is better than growlin' in yer hammock at the muskaities, poor things, as don't know no better."

Feeling that the advice was good, or perhaps tempted by the offer of a "taste" of his friend's peculiarly good tobacco, the interpreter arose, calmly made a paper cigarette, while Flaggan loaded his "cutty," and then accompanied him in a saunter down the road leading to the gate.

"Ally," began the seaman, making a stopper of the end of his little finger--"by the way, you ain't related, are you, to the famous Ally Babby as was capting of the forty thieves?"

"No, nuffin ob de sort," replied Ali, shaking his head.

"Well, no matter, you deserve to be; but that's neither here nor there. What I was agoing to say is, that it's my opinion that fellow Seedy Hassan ain't all fair an' above board."

Ted glanced keenly at his companion, for he had made the remark as a sort of feeler.

"W'at de matter wid um?" asked Rais carelessly.

"Oh, nothin'--I only thought you might know somethin' about him. _I_ doesn't, only I'm a dab at what's called in Ireland fizzyognomy, an? I don't like the looks of him. Why, bless ye, I knows a feller by the cut of his jib directly. I could have taken my davy, now, that you were a sly, clever sort o' chap, even before I was introduced to 'ee, d'ee see?"

Whether he saw or not remains to this day an uncertainty, for it was at that moment that, as before stated, Mariano rushed in at the gate, and, unintentionally, into the arms of Rais Ali, who uttered a loud cry and flung him off with a kick that unfortunately took effect on the youth's shin.

Supposing that he was intercepted, afraid lest his mission should miscarry, and angered by the pain, Mariano lost the power of self-restraint which he had hitherto exercised so well that night. He rushed at the interpreter and hit him a blow on the forehead that caused him to tumble backwards violently.

The act was scarcely done when the youth found himself in the embrace of Ted Flaggan, and, strong though he was, he found it impossible to throw off, or to free himself from, that sturdy tar. Still he struggled fiercely, and there is no saying what might have been the result, had not Rais, recovering from the blow, hastened to his friend's aid.

Between them they succeeded in securing Mariano, and, with a handkerchief tied his hands behind him.

"Now then, young feller," said Flaggan, taking the youth by the arm, "you'll have to go before the British couns'l an' give an account of yerself. So come along."

Of course when Mariano was taken into the presence of Colonel Langley, and had whispered a few words in his ear, the seaman and his friend Rais Ali were dismissed with the assurance that all was right--an assurance, by the way, which was not quite satisfactory to the latter, when he reflected on and tenderly stroked the bump, about as large as a pigeon's egg, which ornamented the space between his eyes!

"Never mind, Ally Babby," was his friend's consolatory remark as they left the house and returned to their hammocks; "it can't damage your good looks, an' 'll prove a mighty source of amazement to the muskaities."

Meanwhile the consul accompanied Mariano a short way on his return to town, so that the latter might not be delayed.

"I hope there is no fear of an outbreak occurring before I can get into town to-morrow," said the consul, as they were about to part. "It is impossible that I can demand an audience of the Dey before breakfast without creating suspicion. Tell Bacri, however, that he may depend on my doing my utmost without delay to avert the evil. And now, how do you mean to return to him--for it occurs to me that although you may scale the walls easily enough, you won't be able to retrace your way to the house of the Jew who favoured your escape?"

"Bacri had foreseen that," replied the youth, "and has arranged to meet and guide me from a street leading south from the Bagnio, which is known to both of us."

"He runs great risk in doing this," said the consul; "however, he knows the outs and ins of the city well. Good-bye, and God speed you on your way."

Mariano, who was impatient to return, at once darted away like a deer, and was soon lost to view among the aloes and cactuses that clothed the slopes of the Sahel hills.

Not long afterwards the grey light of day began to tip the domes and minarets of the pirate city, and with it began the soft hum of a general awakening--for Mohammedans are early risers, and even pirates deemed it consistent with their calling to commence the day with formal--not to say ostentatious--prayers. Any one traversing the streets at that early hour might have seen men at the fountains busy with their prescribed ablutions, while elsewhere others were standing, kneeling, or prostrating themselves, with their faces turned carefully in the direction of Mecca, their holy city.

It must not be supposed, however, as we have already remarked, that all the men of the town were pirates. That the town existed by means of piracy, and that all its chief men from the Dey downwards were pure and simple robbers, is quite consistent with the fact that there were many honest enough traders and workmen whose lot had been cast there, and whose prayers were probably very heartfelt and genuine--some of them, perchance, being an appeal for deliverance from the wretches who ruled them with a rod of iron--indeed, we might almost say, a rod of red-hot iron. Whatever the nature of their prayers, however, they were early in presenting, and remarkably particular in not omitting, them.

Down at the Marina there was a group of Christian slaves who were not behind their task-masters in this respect. In an angle of the fortifications the Padre Giovanni was kneeling by the side of a dying slave. The man had been crushed accidentally under a large piece of the rock with which the bulwarks of the harbour were being strengthened. He had been carried to the spot where he lay, and would have been left to die uncared for if Blindi Bobi had not chanced to pass that way. After administering such consolation as lay in a little weak wine and water from his flask, the eccentric but kind-hearted man had gone off in search of the Padre, who was always ready to hasten at a moment's notice to minister to the necessity of slaves in sickness. Too often the good man's services were of little avail, because the sick slaves were frequently kept at work until the near approach of death rendered their labours worthless; so that, when Giovanni came to comfort them, they were almost, if not quite, indifferent to all things.

On the present occasion he was too late to do more than pray that the dying man might be enabled, by the Holy Spirit, to trust in the salvation wrought out--and freely offered to sinners, even the chief--by Jesus Christ.

While the spirit of the poor slave was passing away, Sidi Omar approached the spot. Blindi Bobi, remembering a former and somewhat similar occasion, at once glided behind a projection of the walls and made off.

"He is past your help now, Giovanni," said Omar to the old man, for whom he, in common with nearly all the people of the town, entertained great respect, despite his Christianity, for the Padre had spent the greater part of a long life among them, in the exercise of such pure, humble philanthropy, that even his enemies, if he had any, were at peace with him.

"His spirit is with God who gave it," replied the old man, rising and contemplating sadly the poor crushed form that lay at his feet.

"His spirit won't give us any more trouble, then," returned Omar, as he regarded the dead man with a stern glance; "he was one of the most turbulent of our slaves."

"And one of the most severely tried," said Giovanni, looking gently in the face of the Minister of Marine.

"He had all the advantages and comforts of other slaves; I know not what you mean by `tried,'" retorted Omar, with a grim smile.

"He was wrenched, with his family, from home and friends and earthly hope, twenty years ago; he saw his children perish one by one under cruel treatment; he saw his wife sold into slavery, though he did not see her die--as I did--of a broken heart, and he suffered all the torments that ingenuity could devise before his spirit was set free."

Giovanni said this slowly and very gently, but two bright red spots on his pale careworn cheeks showed that he spoke with strong emotion.

"Well, well," returned Omar, with a sinister smile, "that gives him all the better chance in the next life; for, according to the faith of you Christians, his sufferings here go to make weight in the matter of his salvation. Is it not so?"

"Men who call themselves Christians," said the Padre, "do not all hold the same faith. There are those who appear to me to wrest Scripture to their own destruction; they find in one part thereof a description of true faith as distinguished from a dead, false, or spurious faith, which reveals its worthlessness by the absence of `works,' and, founding on that, they refuse to accept the other portion of Scripture which saith that `by the works of the law shall no man living be justified.' I, with many others, hold that there is no merit in our simply suffering. The sufferings and the obedience of Jesus Christ in our stead is all the merit on which we rest our hopes of salvation."

"It may be so, Giovanni," returned Omar carelessly, "but I profess not to understand such matters. The slave is dead, and thou hast one less to care for."

With this sentiment, accompanied by a smile of pity and a shake of his head, the Minister of Marine left the Padre, and directed his steps towards the town. On his way he met the court story-teller or jester.

"Thou art early astir, Hadji Babi," he said. "Is there aught in the wind?"

"There is much in the wind," answered the jester gravely; "there is oxygen and nitrogen, if philosophers be right--which is an open question--and there is something lately discovered which they call ozone. Discoveries in time past give ground for expectation of discoveries in time to come. There is much in the wind, methinks."

"True, true," rejoined Omar, with an approving nod; "and what sayest thou as to the atmosphere of the palace?"

The jester, who had strong suspicions as to the good-faith of Omar, yet was not sufficiently in the confidence of the Dey to know exactly how matters stood, replied with caution--

"It is serene, as usual; not disturbed by untoward elements, as the air of a palace ought to be."

"That is well, Hadji Baba," returned Omar, in a confidential tone; "nevertheless thou knowest that the atmosphere in palaces is not always serene.--By the way, hast seen Sidi Hamet of late?"

"Not I," replied the other carelessly.

"He is no friend of thine, it would seem," said Omar.

"No," answered the jester shortly.

"Nor of mine," added Omar.

Each eyed the other narrowly as this was said.

"Wouldst do him a service if you could?" asked Omar.

"No," said Baba.

"Nor I," returned Omar.

"I owe service to no one save the Dey," rejoined Baba. "If it were possible, I would for his sake put a bow-string round the neck of a certain Aga--"

"Ha!" interrupted Omar; "hast thou then seen aught to justify such strong measures? Come, Hadji Baba, thou knowest me to be thy master's true friend. Tell me all. It shall be well for thee. It _might_ be ill for thee, if thou didst decline; but fear not. I am thy friend, and the friend of Achmet. It behoves friends to aid each other in straits."

The jester felt that he had committed himself, but at the same time conceived that he was justified in trusting one who had always been the intimate friend and adviser of his master. He therefore revealed all that he knew of the plot which was hatching, and of which he knew a great deal more than the Minister of Marine had expected, in consequence of his having been kept well informed by a negro girl, called Zooloo, whose capacity for eavesdropping was almost equal to a certain "bird of the air" which has been in all ages accredited with the powers of an electric telegraph.

In consequence of the information thus received, Sidi Omar made instant and formidable preparations to thwart the schemes of his adversary, in doing which, of course, he found it advantageous to uphold the Dey.

Achmet also made energetic preparations to defend himself, and was quite cool and collected when, about the usual breakfast hour, he received the British consul, and thanked him for the timely warning which he brought.

But the precautions of both were in vain, for Sidi Hamet was a man of vigour beyond his fellows.

Suddenly, when all seemed profoundly peaceful, some of his followers rushed upon the palace guards, disarmed them, and hauled down the standard. At the same hour--previously fixed--the port, the casba, and the gates of the city were surprised and taken. The lieutenants employed to accomplish these feats at once announced that Sidi Hamet was about to become Dey of Algiers, in proof whereof they pointed to the naked flag-staff of the palace.

The janissaries, most of whom were indifferent as to who should rule, at once sided with the insurrectionists. Those who favoured Sidi Omar were cowed, and obliged to follow suit, though some of them--especially those at the Marina--held out for a time.

And now the reign of anarchy began. Knowing that, for a few hours, the city was destitute of a head, the rude Turkish soldiery took the law into their own hands, and indulged in every excess of riot, entering the houses of Jews and Moors by force, and ransacking them for hidden treasure. Of course, Sidi Hamet attempted to fulfil his engagement with Bacri, by placing guards over the houses of the more wealthy Jews, as well as giving orders to the troops not to molest them. But, like many other reckless men, he found himself incapable of controlling the forces which he had set in motion.

Many of the Jews, expecting this, had sought refuge in the houses of their friends, and in the British consulate, where the consul, finding himself, as it were, caught and involved in the insurrection, deemed it wise to remain for a time.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

TELLS OF RIOT AND REVOLUTION IN THE PIRATE CITY.

At the first sound of tumult, Achmet--who was seated at the time on his accustomed throne of judgment, ready to transact the ordinary business of the morning--sprang up and roused his pet lion to a sudden and towering pitch of fury by thrusting the point of his dagger into it. The result was that when the door burst open the huge creature sprang into the midst of the insurgents with a tremendous roar.

A volley of balls laid it low for ever, but the incident diverted attention for a moment from the Dey, and afforded him time to escape from the audience-chamber. Darting up a staircase, he gained the palace-roof, from which he sprang to a neighbouring roof and descended hastily to the street, throwing off some of his brilliant apparel as he ran, and snatching up a common burnous in which he enveloped himself.

Every avenue to the palace had been carefully secured by Sidi Hamet, but it chanced that the one which Achmet selected was guarded by a young soldier, towards whom at some previous time he had shown acts of kindness.

On seeing the Dey hastening towards him the soldier lowered his musket, but appeared undecided how to act. Achmet, at once taking advantage of his hesitation, went boldly up to him, and reminding him of what he had formerly done for him, attempted to bribe him with a magnificent diamond ring; but the soldier refused the ring. Placing his left hand on his eyes he said hurriedly--

"Your servant can neither hear nor see."

The Dey at once took the hint and passed on, but the delay proved fatal, for a band of Janissaries who were traversing the narrow streets in search of him came suddenly round a corner. Achmet instantly turned back and fled, hotly pursued by the yelling soldiers. They were quickly joined by others, and ere long a surging crowd followed the footsteps of the fugitive as he darted from one to another of the intricate streets. The Dey was a cool and courageous as well as an active man, and for some time eluded his pursuers, whose very eagerness to take his life caused them to thwart each other by getting jammed in several of the narrow passages.

At last Achmet gained the entrance to the palace of his wives. The door was already shut and secured, as well as guarded by two of the insurgent janissaries. Rendered desperate and savage by the hopelessness of his case, he cleft the skulls of these men with his sword, and was about to dash himself violently against the strong door, in the vain hope of bursting it open, when he was checked by hearing an appalling shriek inside. Next moment the door was flung wide open, and his faithful wife Ashweesha appeared with a dripping dagger in her hand.

No word was uttered, because none was needed. The Dey leaped in and shut the door violently, just as his infuriated pursuers gained it, while Ashweesha, with cool precision, shot in the heavy bolts, and let down the ponderous bars.

Achmet sank exhausted on one of the couches of the vestibule, regardless of the din which was made by the mob outside in their vain endeavours to batter down the strong oaken door.

"Do not give way," said Ashweesha, falling on her knees beside him, and resting his head tenderly on her shoulder, "there are many who love you in the city. Escape over the terraces to the house of Jacob the Jew. He has many hiding-places, and will assuredly aid you."

"I will try, for _your_ sake, Ashweesha," said Achmet, starting up; "I have little hope, it is true, for my enemies are too strong for me, but it were cowardly to fail for want of an effort. Allah bless thee, my wife!"

He kissed her, and immediately made for the staircase that led to the terrace.

Gaining the roof, he looked over the parapet, and the first glance was enough to convince him that he must bid adieu to hope. The palace was completely surrounded by the insurgents, who set up a fierce shout on observing him, and fired a volley of balls from many directions, all of which, however, passed harmlessly over his head.

"Thou seest, Ashweesha," he said, with a sad smile, as the Sultana followed him to the terrace, "my time has come. It is fate. Allah has willed it so--there is therefore no possibility of averting it."

"Say not so," cried Ashweesha earnestly; "the terrace of Jacob is easily gained; once there you can descend to some of the back streets where no one looks for you."

"I will make the attempt," said the Dey, sternly casting his eyes over the city.

It was a sight that might well lull him with sad thoughts, for the roofs or terraces everywhere were covered with affrighted women--the houses of the Jews being especially distinguishable by the frantic manner in which the Jewesses wrung their hands, and otherwise displayed their grief and alarm.

A plank thrown from the parapet of his palace to that of the nearest house enabled Achmet to escape from those of his enemies who had gained an entrance below, but it was only a momentary respite; while they were searching for another plank to enable them to follow him, he attempted to cross over to the house of the Jew above mentioned. He was at once observed, on the frail bridge that supported him, and a shout of anger rose from the populace like a hoarse roar.

During the whole time in which the Dey was thus endeavouring to escape, his proud spirit fought against him, urging him to turn and dare his foes to do their worst. At the moment when their roar burst upon his ear, all desire to escape seemed to vanish. He stopped suddenly, drew himself up with his wonted look of dignified composure, and from his perilous and elevated position looked down almost reproachfully on those who had been wont to bow at his footstool.

The act was followed by another roar. A hundred muskets belched forth their deadly fire, and Achmet Dey fell headlong into the street.

The shattered body was instantly seized by the soldiers, and the head, severed from the trunk, was carried off to the palace, there to be presented as a trophy to Sidi Hamet, the new Dey of Algiers.

So soon as the green standard of the Prophet was run up on the flag-staff of the palace, announcing that a new ruler had seated himself on the throne, the period of recognised anarchy came to an end, and order began to be in some measure restored. Still, most of the wealthy inhabitants kept in close retirement, having, of course, hidden away most of their valuables and cash. The Jews, especially, were very chary of showing themselves in public, and those of them who had fled for refuge to the British consulate remained quiet, and were hospitably entertained for several days.

Among the first who fled to that shelter was the valiant Rais Ali. He entered with a trembling frame and pale visage about the time the incidents we have described were being enacted, and found Colonel Langley, with the aid of Ted Flaggan, engaged in preparing the various rooms of the building for the reception of those who, from past experience, he expected to require them.

"Why, Rais! what ails you?" demanded Colonel Langley in surprise, not unmingled with anger, for he had, on leaving home, placed the interpreter in charge of his family in his suburban villa.

"Oh! mass'r," said Ali piteously; "yous no know wat dangers me hab if de janissary cotch me. Life not wuth wone buttin."

"Rascal!" exclaimed the Colonel, "did I not charge you to guard my household? How dare you forsake your post? Are you not under my p