AMERICAN FLAG HAD BEEN RAISED
THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME AN AMERICAN FLAG HAD BEENRAISED ON A FORT OF THE OLD WORLD.
Our ships, which had suspended their fire during our charge, now resumed bombarding the houses that sheltered the governor and his men.
The deadly fire of the ships terrified the already faint-hearted forces there, and they began to flee indisorder. Hamet's troops captured the governor's castle, and his cavalry pursued the flying foe. By four o'clock in the afternoon we were in full possession of the city, the action having lasted about two hours and a half. Of the Christians who fought there were fourteen killed and wounded. Three of these were American marines; two dead and one wounded. The rest of the dead were Greeks. Our Grecian allies showed great bravery and were worthy descendants of the ancient heroes of their race.
The governor fled first to a mosque; then to the abode of an old sheik.
"I must lay hold of him!" General Eaton said. "He is the third man in rank in the entire kingdom of Tripoli, and we can use him to exchange for Captain Bainbridge!"
The general, in great zeal to take the governor captive, now marched at the head of fifty Christians with bayonets to that remote section in which the fugitive had found refuge. The aged chief who sheltered him, however, vowed that the laws of hospitality would be violated if he permitted us to take the governor, and refused to yield him up to us.
General Eaton explained that the Governor had rejected peace terms; had challenged us and been beaten at his post; was still in a conquered town, and was by all the laws of war a prisoner. The sheik remained firm.
The citizens of Derne began to look at us with hostile eyes.
"The Christians no longer respect the customs of our fathers and our laws of hospitality," they exclaimed.
Hamet Bashaw, fearful that the people would beturned against him if we seized the governor against the old sheik's wishes, persuaded the general to postpone the attempt.
We had been in possession of Derne about a week when the army sent from Tripoli arrived and planted their camp on the ground we had occupied. Meanwhile, General Eaton had fortified the city as strongly as possible.
We found ourselves facing enemies within and foes without, because the people of the town, true to their nature, were now debating which army would be the most likely to win, so that they might be on the victor's side. The late governor, we learned, was the leader in trying to persuade the people of the city to revolt against us.
On May 18th the troops from Tripoli advanced towards the city in order of battle, but when General Eaton marshalled his forces to meet them they halted, conferred, and then retired. We found out later that the Beys in charge of the enemy's forces had tried day after day to persuade the Arabs under them to attack. They had refused, stating that Joseph Bashaw must send them aid before they would attempt to conquer the city.
"We have," they said, "not only our lives to preserve, but also the lives of our families. Hamet has possession of the town; his Christian allies possess the batteries; these, together with the great guns of the American ships, would destroy us if we attacked!"
The Beys then demanded of the Arabs that they permit their camels to be used to protect the front and flanks of the assaulting forces, but this too was refused.
Word came to General Eaton that Hassien Bey, commander of the enemy's forces, had offered six thousanddollars for his head, and double that sum if he were brought as a prisoner. We heard also that thirty dollars had been offered for the head of an ordinary Christian.
Then there came to our camp a Bedouin holy man who had previously been befriended by the general. He whispered that two women, one in our camp and one in Derne, had been employed by Hassien Bey to poison our commander. In payment for this service they had already been given presents of diamond rings. The saint cautioned the General not to accept any presents of pastry, preserves or fruit.
A few days later, the forces of Hassien Bey gave battle. He was assisted by Muhamed, Bey of Bengazi; Muhamed, Bey of Derne, and Imhamed, Bey of Ogna. Under them were one thousand mounted Arabs and two thousand Arabs on foot. On the night before, Muhamed, the former governor of Derne, had escaped into Hassien Bey's camp, and had told him that our numbers on shore were far less than the general had supposed. Encouraged by this information Hassien Bey ordered the attack.
About nine o'clock in the morning his troops appeared, under five standards, and attacked about one hundred of Hamet's cavalry, who had been stationed about a mile from town. The cavalry fought bravely but were forced to retreat. TheArgusandNautilustrained their guns on the enemy, and we in town bombarded them with our battery and field pieces, but by taking advantage of walls they penetrated the town up to the palace that sheltered Hamet. Here they were met by a hot rifle fire from Hamet's supporters, but they held their ground stubbornly, determined to capture Hamet.
The general was wondering whether with the smallforce in charge of the battery he dare risk a sortie to defend Hamet, when fortunately a shot from one of our nine-pounders killed two mounted enemies near the palace.
Instantly they sounded a retreat and fled from all quarters. Hamet's cavalry pursued them. In their flight they again came within range of our ships' guns, and these poured into their ranks a galling fire.
We were told later by an Italian slave who escaped from their camp that they had lost twenty-eight men killed and that fifty-six of their number had been wounded by our fire.
This defeat took the heart out of the Arabs supporting the Beys. Officers and soldiers began to desert to us from the enemy, and when Hassien Bey began to prepare for another assault by collecting camels that would be used as traveling breastworks, the Arabs recruited on the march refused to take part. They protested that they would have been willing to fight under ordinary circumstances, but that the Americans were firing balls that would kill both a rider and his horse, and that they would not expose themselves to such shots. They also complained that we rushed at them with bayonets, and would not give them time to reload their muskets!
Hearing these reports our fearless general tried to persuade Hamet to make a counter-attack, but without success. Skirmishes continued to occur. A few days after the battle, a company of the enemy attacked some Arab families who had camped in the rear of the town. Learning of the attack, the general headed a party of thirty-five Greeks and Americans, with a view to cutting off their retreat. We met them in a mountain's ravine—the Greeks must have thought of the Spartansat Thermopylae—and charged them with our bayonets. They broke and fled, hotly pursued. We killed their captain and five men, and took two prisoners. None of us were injured.
This affair put Hassien Bey in a frenzy. The next morning he came forward to revenge his cause, but again the Arabs mutinied and retreated, leaving Hassien and his soldiers to follow in humiliation back to their camp.
Hamet Bashaw had his turn at open fighting a few days later, and acquitted himself far better than we expected. The enemy appeared in great numbers on the heights overlooking the town, seeking a way to descend that would not expose them to the fire of our guns. They found a pass and started to descend to the plain below, but here Hamet's cavalry met them and, as reinforcements joined each side, the battle increased in size until there were five thousand men engaged. The fighting lasted four hours, during which Hamet held his ground like a true general. It was a battle fought in the Barbary style, for the field of conflict was beyond the range of our batteries, and we were rejoiced to learn that the victory belonged to Hamet. The enemy lost fifty men killed, and had over seventy wounded, while of the forces of Hamet, the killed and wounded amounted together to about fifty. We had lost respect for Hamet during our march across the desert, but his gallantry in this engagement restored confidence.
Lieutenant O'Bannon was eager to lead our Americans and Greeks out to hold the pass by which the enemy must retreat with our bayonets, but the general decided wisely that it would be unwise to leave the batteries undefended, since Hamet Bashaw's forces might suffer a reverse.
Our prolonged stay at Derne had begun to worry both the general and Hamet. I saw them frequently conferring with great seriousness, and heard General Eaton say that if the aid, money, and supplies had come which he hoped would be awaiting him at Derne, he might now be at Cape Mensurat, and in fifteen days after, at Tripoli.
My wonder as to what there was being discussed by the general and Hamet Bashaw was cleared away somewhat by the arrival of a spy from the enemy's camp, who informed us that a courier had arrived, eleven days from Tripoli, with dispatches from the reigning Bashaw stating that he intended to make peace with the United States,even if he had to sell his wardrobeto do so. This was a great change of front; a change caused, we all felt sure, by our conquest of Derne, and by our openly avowed determination to capture Tripoli in the same manner.
Then there came a letter from Commodore Barron which informed General Eaton that the United States must withdraw her support from Hamet, since Consul Lear was making a peace with Joseph.
The general wrote hotly in reply: "I cannot be persuaded that the abandoning of Hamet is in keeping with those principles of honor and justice which I know actuate the national breast. But, if no further aids come, and we are compelled to leave the place, humanity itself must weep; the whole city of Derne, together with numerous families of Arabs, who attached themselves to Hamet Bashaw, and who resisted Joseph's troops in expectation of help from us, must be left to their fate;havoc and slaughter must follow; not a soul of them can escape the savage vengeance of the enemy; instead of lending aid to the unfortunate people, we involve them in destruction."
The general wrote also in protest to the Secretary of the Navy, stating that when Commodore Barron agreed to cooperate with Hamet there was no talk of the latter being used as a means of making peace with the reigning Bashaw; that nothing was talked of but punishment. The example of Commodore Preble, he stated, had fired the squadron which relieved him with an ambition to punish Joseph, and it was in the same spirit that he, General Eaton, was sent on his mission to bring Hamet to the rear of the enemy.
Shortly after these letters were dispatched, we had occasion to march through Derne.
"Long live the Americans! Long live our friends and protectors!" the people shouted.
The general bowed his head in shame.
General Eaton, in the opinion of all of us who marched with him, and of many with whom I afterwards talked, could well complain of the way he was treated by the United States Government. He had won at Derne a victory that many thought was superior to the naval victories won over Tripoli, and by his campaign had opened the way for a peace that saved the United States the payment of hundreds of thousands of dollars in warships and tribute money. Yet he had been allowed to enter upon his enterprise in such a manner that if successful the Administration would receive full credit for sending him, while if he failed, he could be blamed for acting without authority.
At Tripoli, peace was being made after this manner:Colonel Lear, then at Malta, received a letter from the Spanish consul at Tripoli asking him to come to that place under a flag of truce, as the Bashaw wanted to discuss peace. A few weeks later Captain Bainbridge wrote to Commodore Barron that the Tripolitan minister of foreign affairs, Sidi Mohammed Dghiers, who was opposed to the war, was about to leave the city, and that it would be well to send an envoy to treat for peace before the minister left.
Colonel Lear sailed from Malta on theEssex, which joined the blockading frigatesConstitutionandPresidentof Tripoli. The white flag hoisted by Lear was answered by the hoisting of a similar flag on the Bashaw's castle. The terms agreed upon were that the United States was to pay him $60,000 for the ransom of the American captives remaining after an exchange of prisoners, man for man, had been made; that the American forces should withdraw from Derne, persuading Hamet to go with them; and that in the course of time Joseph was to restore to Hamet his wife and children.
The articles were signed on board theConstitution. A salute of twenty-one guns was then fired by the Bashaw's battery and answered by theConstitution. The people of the city crowded to the wharves celebrating the making of peace. The released American officers and sailors ran to the wharves to leap into the barges that were to take them out of the hated town.
Sage men have predicted that the historians of the future would say that Colonel Lear acted unwisely in making the peace, and that if he had delayed for a few weeks, until bomb vessels and gunboats on the way from America had arrived, a squadron would have assembled before Tripoli that would have frightened the Bashawinto agreement with any terms the United States' fleet chose to lay down. That we should have had to pay ransom for the American captives at Tripoli after we had captured the powerful province of Derne, and with such a strong fleet in the Mediterranean, was not in accord with American traditions.
The act of Colonel Lear in making peace with the reigning Bashaw seems to have been for the purpose of blocking Eaton's triumph. "Eaton," said an officer holding a high place in the Mediterranean squadron, "was running away with the honor of the Tripolitan war. Between an army and navy jealousy is common. What had the navy done long before, after the achievement of Preble? Hence the readiness to snatch the first chance for peace."
The politics of the matter gave me little concern. Here was General Eaton needing money. With money he could hire Arab tribes, buy caravans loaded with food, march on to Tripoli. Here was my opportunity, and my duty.
Through all my adventures in the desert campaign, from the time when we first faced the hot, choking winds of the desert and covered our eyes to keep from being blinded by the sand until the time when we lifted the Stars and Stripes on the ramparts of Derne, the thought of the treasure tomb had dwelt with me. According to the rector's map, the buried chamber was within an hour's ride by camel of Tokra, a town located between Derne and Tripoli, quite near to the former.
The coast of northern Africa jutted out into the Mediterranean at this point, and made it a favorable spot for settlement by Phoenicians and earlier races who ruled this sea.
When I perceived that Captain Eaton's campaign against Tripoli had been blocked through lack of funds and that he himself had given up hope of receiving from our naval officers the money and supplies required to proceed against the stronghold of Joseph, I resolved to begin my treasure search in earnest, hoping to turn the gems and gold to the general's use. I resolved to take Mustapha along as my guide. The attachment that had sprung up between us grew stronger as the weeks passed. He was an Arab to the backbone. He could run all day in the heat and fall asleep at night on bare stones. He was as quick and noiseless in his movements as awildcat, and his mood was a queer mixture of gentleness and fierceness. Having adopted me, he was fiercely jealous, and his brown face would become convulsed if strange Arab boys from any of the camps we passed tried to follow me.
One night, on swift camels which we borrowed from Mustapha's sheik, we rode away from Derne. It was a foolhardy enterprise, because Joseph Bashaw's army lay between us and Tokra, yet we managed to avoid their outposts and when morning broke we were well beyond their lines.
I had not taken the general into my confidence. He might have told me, to keep me from going on what he would consider a wild goose chase, that he would not avail himself of the gold, even if it were found. I felt too, since the rector had tried so hard to keep the facts concerning the treasure a secret, that I should not reveal it, even to those I trusted most.
We joined ourselves to a caravan as we approached Tokra. Mustapha had acquaintances among the camel-drivers, and his explanations created for us a kindly reception. Mingling thus with the Arabs, we rode into Tokra without attracting the attention of the people. That this was fortunate for me, I was soon to find out. A larger caravan had entered the town a few hours before us. Its people had thronged the cafés. As I rode through the narrow street, holding my hood well over my face to keep from being recognized as a hated "Nazarene," I caught sight of a tall well-dressed Moor watching a group of dancing girls. His brilliant robe attracted my attention, then something familiar about his figure made me observe him more closely. My gaze traveled up his burly form to his bearded face. I couldsee it only in profile, but the sight was enough to set me to trembling. I had recognized Murad.
He did not see us. In the café before which he lounged were girls of the Ouled-Nahil tribe, dancing. We could see over the heads of the men these stately creatures gliding and twisting to the music of clarionets and tam-tams. Their mountainous head-gear of plaited wool, bound by brilliantly-colored silk kerchiefs shook with the movements of their bodies. We could hear amidst the music the jingling of their bangles. I saw also a boy bring a live coal in a pair of tongs to Murad, so that the latter might light his long pipe.
A score of questions flashed through my mind. Had the Egyptian found the treasure, and was he now enjoying the wealth? Or had he been detained as I was in reaching this spot, and could it be that he had been a member of the newly arrived caravan? Did he mean to spend the night amidst the luxury of the café or would he soon come forth to hunt for the treasure tomb?
I decided from his manner that he had newly arrived, and that, for a few hours at least, he would smoke his pipe and drink his coffee and watch the dance. During those few hours I resolved to push my search.
When we found a spot in which I could examine the map without being observed I was puzzled to find that the location of the treasure tomb was set down as being not outside of the city, but in its very midst. Through Mustapha, I made inquiry of an old Arab. Yes, he said, in reply to my questions, there had been a temple there once. The reason the ruins could not be seen now was that successive tribes of Arabs had come and camped on the ruins until the soil and filth they had left behind them had covered the floors. There had been walls, butthey were now used for sheep folds, goat-yards, poultry-yards, donkey-sheds.
The rector's exploration had been made also at night. The upper tomb he had found was known to everyone. It too had probably held riches, but it had been plundered centuries since. None of the later tribes had thought to look beneath it. The rector would not have had the curiosity to explore if it had not been that in Greece a scientist had discovered there double layers of tombs hewn out of the rocks.
Mustapha then translated to me the words written in Arabic at the foot of the diagram:
"Walk along the north wall of the town until there rises from the mud-huts and cattle-sheds a stone pillar that lifts about eight feet above the surrounding roofs. This pillar will mark the location of a tomb that is still respected as a holy place by the people of the town. Under the floor of this tomb, lies the treasure chamber. Its entrance is through the outer wall, where I dug out a stone. Pry along south wall below ground till triangular slab is found."
"Walk along the north wall of the town until there rises from the mud-huts and cattle-sheds a stone pillar that lifts about eight feet above the surrounding roofs. This pillar will mark the location of a tomb that is still respected as a holy place by the people of the town. Under the floor of this tomb, lies the treasure chamber. Its entrance is through the outer wall, where I dug out a stone. Pry along south wall below ground till triangular slab is found."
Past clusters of mud-huts, dirt-heaps, piles of broken pottery, and odorous cattle-sheds we groped. The dogs barked and ran snarling about our feet, but Mustapha had magic words that soothed and hushed them. At last, against the star-filled skies, we saw a rugged pillar lift up. The huts and sheds stopped at this point, and for several rods there were no buildings. The loneliness of the spot I took as a good omen. It meant that I could dig with little fear of disturbance.
From the town came sounds of singing and shouting. Drinking and dancing and merry-making were engaging the people. With these unceasing noises drowning the clink of our spades, we began to dig.
The dirt and debris was loose, and our arms were winged by excitement and fear. I had told Mustapha that I expected that he should earn enough money on this trip to give him a university education at Fez, enough to make him respected as a sheik. Under the enchanting prospect, and for love of me, he toiled.
After ten minutes of digging, I took my dirk and felt along the side of the wall which we had uncovered. My dirk's point entered a crevice. We dug again, frantically, and now I was able to trace all sides of the loose block of stone that acted as a bar to the entrance. Mustapha brought out his knife and aided me in the prying, and between us we managed to move the stone outwards as if it worked on hinges. I thought of the Arabian lad who entered the retreat of the Forty Thieves. I too had found an "Open Sesame" to riches. Were my eyes also to be dazzled by the sight of treasure?
The finding of the entrance, though it made me solemn, also created something of a sense of security, for now we could continue our search underground without attracting attention. One fear, however, still lingered, and moved me to frantic haste—Murad's coming!
We lowered ourselves a depth of six feet into the rock room. The clammy moisture chilled our faces; the foul smell choked us. Lifting our torches, we peered into the darkness.
When our eyes grew accustomed to the gloom we found ourselves standing among several skeletons, which had the appearance of having been hurriedly buried. This discovery almost led us to a panicky retreat, but I had risked too much to be turned from my quest by skeletons, and I stepped across the bones and thrust my torch into the center regions. There, buriedin oblong chambers rudely hewn out of the rock floor of the cavern, I saw six bodies that had moldered to dust. Girding their bones, however, was jewelry such as I had never, even in my wildest dreams, imagined.
Upon the time-blackened skulls were headbands of gold. Covering the rib-bones were massive breast-plates of the same metal. As I held down my flame the delicately-wrought patterns of rosettes and palmettos with which these pieces were ornamented flashed out brilliantly. Upon the wrist-bones hung loosely serpent-shaped gold bracelets. From this rich metal dress jewels flamed out to match my beacon's fire.
Around these rock tombs lay more treasures—inlaid daggers with images of cats engraved on their gold handles and with lotus patterns traced on their blades; alabaster cups, hollowed out and painted inside with a brilliant red; stone images of elks with heads of silver; jugs and cups of ivory, alabaster, amber, silver, gold, and porcelain.
Scholars have since told me that the ancients considered that the station of a person in the world of the dead depended upon the wealth with which he was buried. The people who buried these corpses had assuredly done their utmost to insure the eminence of their friends in the dominions of death. I did not pause to wonder whether these were the remains of Phoenicians, Egyptians or of a still earlier race that had dominated the Mediterranean and exacted toll of treasure from the surrounding barbaric tribes. Here the bodies lay. Above them, through the centuries, strange peoples had settled and passed; caravans had stopped and hurried on; dancing girls had whirled; dervishes had practiced sorceries, yet none dreamed of this cool tomb with its riches. Thestuff was here for my taking. Murad was hard on my heels. My lust for fortune overcame all thoughts of reverence for the dead.
"Open the sacks, Mustapha," I said, "the smallest treasures are the most valuable. We will take what we can carry and trust to fortune for a chance to bring out the rest—or perhaps they will fall as crumbs to Murad!"
"Listen, master," Mustapha whispered. Men's voices came to us. I sprang in terror towards the entrance with Mustapha at my heels. As I peered out into the night my breath came again. The tinkle of camel bells came to reassure me. A caravan was entering Tokra, with no suspicion that they were passing within a stone's throw of such wealth.
The capacious sacks loaded, I climbed out of the tomb by making a stepping-stone of Mustapha's back. He hoisted up to me the three bags. I then leaned down and pulled him out. It was about midnight.
"Go to the stables," I said, giving him a coin, "and tell Achmet the camel keeper that urgent business takes you back to Derne. Bring our camels—Achmet knows that they belong to you. Put the gold into his palm. Tell him that you are on business for Hamet Bashaw, who may conquer Tokra next week!"
"I know that he sympathizes with Hamet," Mustapha assured me. "He will help us, and keep his tongue!"
While Mustapha was gone, I replaced the stone door and shoveled back the dirt. Mustapha returned with the camels. They knelt as we loaded the sacks upon them. Around them we piled the bags of dates that had already formed the camels' freight. We turned towards Derne and rode like the wind.
Many hours would pass, I reasoned, before Muradwould begin his search. If then he suspected that the tomb had been robbed and made inquiries, many more hours must pass before he could start in pursuit.
As things happened, however, it was not from behind us that danger came. We came into the vicinity of Derne at nightfall, and drove our jaded camels as fast as we could make them fly, fearing always an encounter with the soldiers of Joseph Bashaw. We succeeded in gaining the city's bounds with no adventure except passing through a volley fired at random by guards whom we passed too swiftly to permit them to arrest us, but as we rode through the town at gray dawn we observed no signs of our troops.
We learned from old Omar, an inn-keeper who came drowsily out to open for us, that the shipConstellationhad arrived bearing orders to General Eaton to quit Derne at once, since Consul-General Lear had concluded a peace with Tripoli. He told us that General Eaton and all of the Christians in the party, together with Hamet Bashaw and his suite, had embarked on theConstellationin a secret manner, for fear that the people of Derne, and their allies, the Arab supporters of Hamet, would attempt to massacre the party when they found that the war had been abandoned and that they were left to the mercy of Joseph.
Omar described how, when General Eaton had barely gotten clear of the wharf, the soldiers and citizens of Derne had crowded down to the shore shouting prayers to the general and Hamet not to leave them to the mercy of Joseph's soldiers. Finding their pleas of no avail, the soldiers had seized the horses the party had left behind, plundered the tents of the departing officers, and fled towards Egypt.
After this occurrence a Tripolitan officer, a messenger from Joseph Bashaw, had landed from theConstellationunder a flag of truce, bearing a message to the people of Derne that Joseph Bashaw would pardon all who laid down their arms and renewed their allegiance to him. Joseph's troops were to begin the occupancy of Derne that morning.
Omar shook his head.
"For myself, I fear nothing. Allah is good. Under his guidance I remained loyal to Joseph. The returning Governor will know that Omar is faithful. But as for my neighbors—let them not trust too much in the Bashaw's promises. If I had fought on Hamet's side I should flee to the mountains!"
Mustapha and I exchanged worried glances. Here we were abandoned by our friends and facing capture by Joseph's soldiers when they entered the city. In that case, our gold and jewels would go to adorn the greedy Joseph's throne. The main object of our treasure search, to provide the general with funds to continue the expedition, could not be carried out. There was nothing to do but flee—but where? From the camp of the enemy came sounds of soldiers assembling. The triumphal entry would soon begin.
"Cavalry! Mount! Escape!" cried Mustapha.
From a distance, swiftly coming nearer, we heard the sound of hoof-beats. Around the corner of the inn came a blaze of color. Galloping steeds were suddenly reined in. A Moorish officer, splendidly uniformed, came towards me. Mustapha, who had stood several yards away, began to lead his beast and mine down towards the river front.
"Alhamdulilah! (Praise be to God)" he sang, "Mylord the Bashaw returns to his own! The cowardly usurper Hamet has fled before Joseph Bashaw's brave warriors!"
The troopers gave Mustapha but a fleeting glance. My head was uncovered and they saw that I was an American.
There was a whispered conference. American warships might be still in the mists that hid sea and shore. I had hopes that they would pass me by unmolested. Instead the officer turned to his men.
"Bind the Nazarene! One at least of the Christian dogs shall pay the penalty of starting rebellion against our worshipful ruler!"
I was bound hand and foot, thrown across a camel's back, and led out of the city, to the enemy's camp.
In the possession of an Arab lad, who was now as a lamb among wolves, were the gold and jewels I had risked so much to secure. One gem of the collection would have purchased my ransom, but knowing that a hint as to the contents of the sacks would lead to the loss of all of the treasure, I resolved to suffer slavery before I spoke of them. I prayed that Mustapha would keep the secret, yet how could I expect that fate would not reveal the contents of the sacks to covetous eyes?
My captor, the Moorish officer, was a native of Ghadames, an interior city of Tripoli—a caravan center located on a camel route to the Soudan. I was regarded by him as the spoils of war, and his purpose was clearly to sell me for a good price in an inland slave market where there would be no American consul to make inquiries. As soon as Derne was occupied, Joseph's army disbanded and the soldiers whose property I was began to journey to their homes. Our caravan started too, and I found myself riding upon the most uncomfortable camel in the outfit, chained by one wrist to the trappings of the beast.
I decided to lose no chance to escape. I knew that the farther inland I went, the more difficult it would be for me to reach the coast. My thoughts dwelt upon the treasure-bags I had last seen flopping through the streets of Derne on Mustapha's camels. I swore that my Arab comrade would see me again soon—and I devoutly hoped that his ingenuity would enable him to hide the treasure.
At last, when I was beginning to despair of falling in with a coastbound caravan, we met a huge one bound from the Soudan to Tripoli. In the excitement of meeting, and in the feasting and dancing that went on between the two parties, my guard forgot me. I had been unshackled while I ate, and the only sentinel over mewas a young Arab who had been stationed at the front entrance to my tent. I saw him looking yearningly at the Arab girls who were dancing. I snored loudly and regularly, watching his movements through the opening. Suddenly he disappeared. A moment later I vanished too. I hoped to escape with the Tripoli-bound caravan, and stole over to where its camel-drivers were gathered. I had made my color as dark as possible, and wore my long gown in true Arab fashion. I had learned, too, some common Arab words.
In the center of the crowd I saw an African snake-charmer. The fakir's round, fleshy face shone like polished ebony, and when he grinned, which was often, I caught sight of two massive rows of gleaming ivory. He wore nothing but a breech-cloth and sandals. His body was covered with scars. These snake-charmers, I had heard, inflicted wounds upon themselves, sometimes through religious frenzy, and sometimes because it gave them prestige with their audiences.
This fakir influenced the people much in the same way that a street evangelist at home attracts listeners by music and loud words. In his train were several men who played cymbals and bagpipes. As soon as they began clanging and blowing upon these instruments, the crowd gathered.
I drew back, for fear that the fakir's attentions to me would lead to discovery, but his eyes had singled me out from the minute of my approach, and he followed me, though not in a way to attract notice.
Alarmed, I was about to make a wild dash into the desert when he caught my arm. I drew back to strike.
"The saint Mohammed," he said, catching my arm, "will harbor an escaping Nazarene so long as theNazarene is willing to clang the cymbals loudly in the name of Mohammed, and is active in collecting coins when the snakes have done squirming and the tales have been told. Two of my attendants have deserted me. I offer you a trip to the coast in my train."
I nodded assent—any port in a storm!
"Bring forth the cymbals! Mohammed is welcome to any music I can make with them!" I said.
"Pay close attention to my motions and when I signal you, collect what coins you can. If any man question you, pretend to be dumb."
He led me into his tent close by, procured for me a coarse robe that was an effectual disguise and applied a pigment to my skin. When he was through with me I looked like one of his own tribe. I went forth then and mingled with the throng, listening while Mohammed told tales in Arabic.
Fascinating indeed were Mohammed's tricks. I watched in astonishment as he shaped a bundle of hay into a mound and covered the pile with water.
"By the grace of Mulai Ali, my patron saint," he said, "I give this hay to the flames and command these serpents to respect the commands of the Prophet's servant!"
With these words, he emptied a bag of snakes on the ground. They looked deadly as they wriggled about his feet and twined themselves around his body. I was told that their poison had not been removed, yet he held the head of the serpent that looked the most dangerous so close to him that its fangs almost touched his lips.
With feats of this nature, and with many tales, my new patron won his audience, and collections were easy to make. What I gathered pleased him and I had the feeling that I had for the time earned a right to hisprotection. I was safely housed in his tent when men came to search the oasis for me, but when they inquired of him he called down curses on them for causing the thought of a Nazarene to cross the mind of a child of the Prophet.
We departed with the caravan bound for the coast. The Moorish officer's soldiers inspected us closely, but Mohammed kept me closely engaged, and arranged my hood so that I was dimly seen by the watchers. I escaped even a challenge. We stopped at frequent oases, where Mohammed entertained and I collected.
But now, perhaps because the matter of my disguise handicapped him; perhaps because he feared punishment for harboring an escaped slave; perhaps from greed, Mohammed betrayed me. When we were a day's travel from Tripoli, we fell in with a small coast-bound caravan that had lost one of its camels and needed a beast of burden to take its place. I became that animal!
On hearing Achmet, the chief of the caravan, offer a large sum for a beast of burden, Mohammed's eyes lighted on me. "There," he said, "is a sound-bodied Nazarene slave that will do the work well. He has served my purpose and since I have saved him from being sold as a slave in the interior, he should not carp at my selling him to you. Take the Christian dog, and may you lead him to become a true follower of Mohammed!"
I was thus hurled into the ranks of Achmet, whose blood-shot, piercing eye and hawk nose gave him a cruel look in keeping with his character.
"The Christian dog belongs to no country," Mohammed told the people to whom I sought to appeal. "He isa cur who has been helping the troublesome Hamet Bashaw to stir up a rebellion against our noble ruler."
These words enraged the crowd against me, and seeing how hopeless was my state, I slunk away, kicked and slapped, to take up my burden.
Fortunately, this caravan too was bound for Tripoli. I expected that there I would have a chance to lay my case before the American consul, and hoped to secure through him freedom and permission to sail back to Derne in search of my treasure sacks.
Loaded with as much of the camel's pack as I could stagger under, I followed in the camel train. When camp was made, I was forced to scramble among the dogs for my share of the scraps thrown to them by the camel-drivers.
When we reached Tripoli I was driven, closely guarded, to dark quarters on the outskirts of the town, and threatened with death if I tried to escape. I found out that the American consul was at Malta on business that had arisen out of the making of peace with Joseph Bashaw. My case, therefore, seemed almost as hopeless as when I was first captured.
These cities of Barbary are strange affairs. The streets wind in and out between white walls. You go under shadowy arches; you climb here a dozen stairs and a little later go up an incline without stairs. The streets are usually too narrow for camels or carts, so that porters and donkeys do most of the hauling. A swarm of people pass continually up and down these cramped ways. The Moslem women wear silken street garments (haicks) that conceal the finery beneath. The faces of these women are covered with a fine silk veil,and underneath their haicks may be seen their bulging Turkish trousers.
When I asked why the women wore veils, I was told that the custom had come down from the time the Christian crusaders invaded the Moslem countries; the attention they paid to the wives and daughters of the Turks led to the followers of Mohammed prescribing the veil for their women folk.
Among the streams of people were Jews talking trade, consoling themselves for the insults by the Mohammedans with the thought of the profits they were making in their dealings with the Moslems; European envoys; rich, lazy Moors; camel drivers; black slaves; soldiers in the Bashaw's service, and sailors employed by the corsair captains. Lame, halt and blind beggars sat by the roadside, beseeching gifts.
"In the name of Allah, give us alms!" a beggar wailed from almost every corner and doorway. The men they solicited were usually rich Moors who wore turbans of fine cloth and richly embroidered vests. Yet often they would select for their target a camel driver from the desert, clad in his coarse gray baracan.
Here stood a fountain surrounded by Arabs and negroes drawing water in gourds and jugs; yonder a dozen women sat on the ground, selling bread. Hooded Arab boys romped on the outskirts of the throng, or recited verses from the Koran to a bearded teacher. Lean cats and dogs were everywhere. All kinds of smells filled the air—garlic, burning aloe wood, fish.
I stood one day in an archway six feet wide that stood in the center of four streets and watched the crowd go by. I saw fish-mongers carrying great baskets of sardines, and strings of slimy catfish, against which thecrowd brushed, leaving the dirt and smell of the fish on their garments. Girls with boards on their heads filled with dough ready for baking darted in and out among the throng; donkeys, laden with garbage, ambled alongside of donkeys carrying fresh roses. Jews, burdened with muslin and calico, went from door to door, haggling with those who examined their wares through partly-opened doors. Boys sauntered along munching raw carrots and artichokes; girls of eight carried on their backs babies wrapped in dirty rags. The little mothers and their charges seemed never to have seen soap and water, but from hair to anklets they were decked with faded flowers.
Blind people—there were hundreds of them—walked along as boldly as if they had eyesight, leaving it for those who could see to get out of their way.
"Balek(out of the way)!" was the cry of everyone. "Emshi Rooah, ya kelb(clear out, begone, you dog)!" was a cry I had grown accustomed to through hearing it hurled at me countless times, for was not I a member of
"A sect they are taught to hateAnd are delighted to decapitate."
"A sect they are taught to hateAnd are delighted to decapitate."
"A sect they are taught to hateAnd are delighted to decapitate."
"A sect they are taught to hate
And are delighted to decapitate."
The upper stories of the houses projected over the lower, and, because of the narrow street, the houses that stood opposite each other almost met, so that all one could see of the sky in many places was a bright blue chink overhead. The walls were all whitewashed; here and there a beautiful gateway appeared. One could not tell from the exterior of the houses whether rich folk or poor folk dwelt inside the walls, yet beyond many of these dark corridors leading through the walls were beautiful garden courts, with silver fountains playingand an abundance of flowers and trees, while underfoot were tiles of various rich colors.
Of the many mosques I passed I can tell nothing, as Christians are not allowed to enter them. Neither were we allowed to dress in green or white—for these are the colors of the prophet.
My new master, still using me as a beast of burden, took me several times to the house at which he lodged. I was thus able to get a glimpse inside a Mohammedan home of the middle class. We went through a whitewashed tunnel till we came to a gate from which hung a huge brass knocker.
My master did not use the knocker. He began to pound on the door in the Arab fashion. A veiled woman peeped over the terrace wall and screamed a question at him. His reply reassured her, and we were admitted to a little square court that was neatly paved with red tiles, through which ran a path of marble lined with oleanders and fig trees. Rooms, white-washed and blue-washed, opened on this court. The owner of the house, Fatima, was a widow, who lived with her old father, and earned her living by embroidering and weaving. She wore the white silken veil as we entered; but as she gossiped with my master she pulled it aside and showed her brown, dumpling face. She wore an embroidered jacket and silk pantaloons, along with gold trimmings and jewelry—an array that seemed so strange to me that I kept my eyes fastened on the ceiling while I was in her presence. She had rented one of her small rooms to my master, whose parents she knew. Fatima spent much of her time on the roof of her house, looking down on the street over the walls of her terrace. The roofs or terraces were used by women alone and most of the visitingbetween houses was done by climbing across the walls dividing the houses.
For privacy, Fatima dropped a flimsy curtain over the door of her room, and this barrier was as strictly respected by her household as if it were a strong door. Visitors were received in the parlor. Fatima and her guests sat on a divan covered with cushions and drank coffee. Handwoven carpets and draperies were everywhere.
The beds of the household were mattresses spread on the floor. One blanket often covers an entire family in the houses of the poor. Fatima fell sick while we were under her roof, and sent a woman friend to a holy man for a remedy. I discovered that the medicine was nothing more than a slip of paper containing the words "He will heal the breasts of the people who believe."
Fatima was ordered to chew and swallow the paper. The widow still complained of illness after swallowing this dose, and was ordered by the marabout to write a verse from the Koran on the inside of a cup; then to pour in water till the writing was washed away; then to drink this water, which was supposed to have in it the virtue expressed in the verse. I followed my master out of Fatima's house greatly amazed at this kind of medical treatment, but I did not wonder at hearing that she had complained that her aches were increasing.
Achmet had now no further use for me and decided to sell me as a slave. I was driven, chained, to the slave market. This auction place was in a large square. All around it were little booths. These were crowded with spectators. Through the center of the bazaar ran a walk.Most of the slaves that had been brought to the market for sale were women and girls. Among the Moors it was thought no evil to deal in human flesh. A black woman with children was first sold. One could tell by the way she clung to her brood that she feared she would be separated from them. We saw her face light when one of the Moors who was squatting on the edge of the walk bought the entire family.
A boy came next. He was handled by prospective buyers as if he were a horse. His eyes, mouth, teeth and nostrils were examined. The first Moslem who inspected him must have seen some defect in the lad, for he waved him away. The auctioneer then seized the boy and led him up and down the walk before the Moors in the bazaars, shouting his good points.
Most of the girls were blacks or mulattoes, brought from the interior of Africa by Arabian traders. There were a few white girls among them. Each girl or woman was handled in the same manner as the boys had been. Some of the maidens boldly returned the stare of those who inspected them. Others shrank from their inspection and, when possible, covered their faces with the woolen haicks they wore.
This slave market reflected only a small part of the slave life of the city. I saw men and women of all classes huddled together in dark, dirty prisons, praying their countrymen would send money to ransom them.
Those whose relatives were not rich enough to buy their freedom were sold to various buyers and set to work at all kinds of labor. The owners often made use of their slaves to earn them money. The old slaves were usually sent out to sell water. Many a drink have I bought from these water-carriers, as, dragging theirchains, they led their donkeys through the streets and sold water from bags of skin that hung across the backs of their beasts. Some of my other acquaintances among the slaves acted as messengers or house-servants; others were employed as herders, drivers or plowmen—I have even seen a Christian slave yoked to a plow with an ox for a yoke-fellow.
Once, while inland, I saw coming out of the Soudan a score of slaves fastened together in a long wooden yoke that had many holes cut in it a few feet apart to admit the heads of the slaves. If one of these slaves fell sick or grew too weak to walk, he would hang from this yoke by his neck, with his feet dragging. As much as he suffered himself, his condition added to the sufferings of his yoke-fellows, for they had to bear his weight. I heard that if he seemed likely to die before the slave market was reached, his master would cut his head from his body with one knife stroke—it saved halting the procession to remove the sick man from the yoke.
Murad in Tripoli! There he stood, stroking his beard and gazing at me with glittering eyes as I was hauled past him to the auction-block.
A fierce Arabian trader, who was forming a caravan to go into the Soudan, bid for me. Murad offered more. I was torn between my terror of being sold "up-country" and of being bought by the Egyptian, who would probably apply torture to wring from me the story of what had become of the contents of the treasure tomb. The Arabian, scowling at Murad, made a still higher bid, whereupon Murad increased his offer. The trader gave me a few final digs and slaps, as if to see if I had the sinews and endurance to warrant his paying a higher price; then he shook his head, cursed me for a Christian dog, and passed to the next slave. Murad came forward. I was pushed into his arms and then thrust by him into the rough hands of his two Moorish attendants.
The Egyptian told me curtly that he had purchased from the Algerines a ship they had captured called theHawk, which he meant to use as a merchant vessel under the protection of the Bashaw, and that he had bought me for service on board of her.
"I am buying out of these slave markets a crew of European sailors," he said curtly. "Remember that we are now master and slave. Where I once befriended you, now I will compel you to wear chains and be subjectto the lash. The American consul to this port is now in Malta; we will sail before he returns; place no hope in him. I want you to search your memory and be prepared to tell me every move you made since I left you aboardThe Rose of Egypt. I shall soon question you upon certain happenings in the desert about which you doubtless have knowledge!"
My eyes fell before his piercing gaze. "I see I have struck home," he said, "I can question you better aboard ship. Go! Report now to my mate, MacWilliams."
Under the charge of the two Moors, I was sent aboard theHawk. She was a staunch, graceful, roomy vessel, built on the Clyde out of the best materials—a ship that reflected credit on the Scotchmen who made her. I said to myself, as I viewed her admiringly, that she was far too good a ship to be in such vile hands. For all of Murad's threats, my spirits rose as I felt her deck under my feet. Here I was among white men, and decent fellows they appeared to be. Here I had a dozen chances to escape, while if the Arabian trader had gained possession of me, only a miracle could have rescued me. As for Murad, if he tortured me, I meant to leap overboard and attempt to swim to safety.
The mate, William MacWilliams, was a big, raw-boned, lantern-jawed man. He received me with kindness and pity. I heard that, under threat of death, he had denied the religion of Christ and had embraced the faith of Mohammed. Murad seemed to place great trust in him. The Egyptian had become, it seemed, too important a man to be a mere ship captain—perhaps his experience onThe Rose of Egypthad brought about this state of mind—and he left all matters in charge of the mate. He himself had much business to transact at court, and thingsoccurred to postpone his questioning of me until we were almost ready to sail.
Since my chains were the badge of my slavery, no watch was kept on me as I went to and fro on errands for those who were outfitting the ship.
William MacWilliams interested me greatly. I had heard that there were many renegades of his type in Barbary. I have been informed that the word renegade comes from the Latin wordnego, which means "I deny." Some of these men had become turncoats to save their skins; others had become renegades because the Moslems, poor sailors themselves, were glad to employ Christian sea captains, and gave them opportunities to live luxuriously and become rich.
MacWilliams wore a most melancholy expression. For all his supposed devotion to the religion of Mohammed, I came upon him one day reading a pocket Testament.
"It is a book that has sublime characters in it, my lad," he said in an embarrassed fashion. Then he turned and looked towards a mosque on shore. "There is but one God, and Allah is his prophet!" he said piously. I looked around, surprised at the change in his attitude. Then I saw the reason. The commander of the Turkish soldiers quartered on board theHawkhad passed our way.
I could not fathom MacWilliams. Yet, understanding something of the temptations a Christian faced in Barbary, I tried to be charitable in my judgment towards him.
Meanwhile, I became a carrier of supplies, threading my way through the motley throngs with my back bent beneath coils of rope, carpenters' tools, and ship's stores.
While on one of these errands I had a curious adventure.
I tried to go through the streets without giving offence to any Mussulman, as I feared a cuffing or even the bastinado.
I soon learned that it was the so-called "saints" that were the most dangerous to Christians. The Arabs, while they will themselves refrain from showing the contempt they feel towards Christians, nevertheless will reward and praise one of the holy men for abusing us.
A tall scantily clad negro, of the type of Mohammed, was the most fanatical and the most dangerous "saint" I met. He was begging alms at the entrance to a courtyard when he saw me passing. He carried a staff in his hand which he used principally to strike Jews and Christians. It was not the stick that troubled me, but instead the habit he had of spitting in the face of Christians. As he peered into my face, detecting my Christian features despite my attempt to disguise them, I saw his mouth moving as if he were preparing to attack me after his vile custom. I hurried out of his range, and escaped the spittle. My quickness enraged him, and he called after me in Arabian. I had heard the words often enough to know that they meant:
"Dog of a Christian, may your grandmother roast! Why shouldst thou avoid the spittle of a saint? It would be the only thing blessed upon thee, seeing that it came from the mouth of a saint!"
I darted down a side street and into a doorway, hoping to rid myself of the pest, but he followed quickly and caught sight of my place of refuge.
"Dog of a Christian," he cried again, poking me in the chest and ribs with his staff, "why do you offend Mohammed by treading the same ground as true believers?"
My blood mounted as I smarted beneath his cudgel. I decided that I would fare just as well by resisting as by submitting, so I ducked my head and dived into the stomach of the fellow, upsetting him. This turned out to be, in the eyes of the Moslems, a great sacrilege. It appeared that while the alleged holy man had entire freedom to beat me, I had committed a crime by doing violence to his body. He made a tremendous uproar as he rose from the dust, and the noise drew a crowd that began to pummel me. I plunged deeper into the doorway, and, having seized the stick of the marabout, whirled it before me in a vigorous fashion. A storm of stones and sticks beat upon me.
While I was on my knees, expecting a rush that would trample me to death, I suddenly heard a familiar voice above the shrieks of the mass.
"Dogs of the desert, how dare you trouble the slave of a good Mohammedan? This Nazarene is the slave of my master, friend of the Bashaw! Is my lord a Jew or a Christian that you would destroy his property before the eyes of a witness? The slave was assaulted first. I swear by the Prophet that he is a gentle slave, and intended no injury to the holy man. Off with you before I call the soldiers of the Bashaw!"
The crowd dispersed. Grumbling, the marabout departed.
I looked into the twinkling eyes of Mustapha. Snatching the marabout's staff from my hand, he began to pelt me across the shoulders. "It is necessary that I do this," he whispered, "the people are watching."
I went through the crowd with Mustapha belaboring me and shouting:
"Dog of a Nazarene, how dare you risk your body,for which my master paid a great sum, in a fight with a holy man?"
When we reached a place where our talk could not be overheard, I burst out: "The treasure sacks, Mustapha? Do not tell me that the Moors have them!"
"The bags are safe, oh David," he assured me, "but fret not if you are not able to open them till you return to America. After you were captured, I hurried to the waterside. There I saw the cutter ofThe Morning Star, a vessel of the American navy. I unstrapped the sacks and put them in the boat, pointing out to the sailor in charge the tags you had tied around their necks."
This information dumbfounded me. The fact that I had been careful enough to tie to the necks of the sacks tags from our own naval stores seemed to promise now delivery of the sacks to a safe place—if they were not ripped open and plundered meanwhile. This was not liable to happen in view of the pains I had taken to ward off curiosity. Upon each tag I had written plainly:
ARCHAEOLOGICAL SPECIMENSto be delivered toRev. Ezekiel Eccleston, D.D.,Rector of Marley Chapel,Baltimore, Md.Sender: David Forsyth,With American Military Expeditionin Libyan Desert.
"If the men who handle the bags respect either the navy or the ministry," I said to Mustapha, "the treasure will be safe. But how can I be sure that the sacks were received on board the ship?"
"I saw the bags lifted over the side, oh, thou of little faith," Mustapha reproved me, "and the boat did not return to the dock. A few hours laterThe Morning Starsailed for America. Allah favored you—my tribe moved this way when Joseph Bashaw's soldiers took possession of Derne, and thus I came to prevent your blood being spilled in the streets of Tripoli!"
"I want to reward you with the biggest gem in our collection," I said, "but how can I do it when our fortune is at sea?"
Then a thought came to me. "Mustapha," I said, "I mean to escape from theHawkand board a ship bound for England or America. I have learned from the mate that a servant boy is needed on theHawk. If you like, I'll recommend you for the place. You must pretend not to know me. If the owner of theHawkdiscovers that you know about the treasure, he'll probably cut your throat? Can you swim?"
Mustapha nodded. "I'll dive overboard if he bothers me!"
"Come then," I said, "we'll follow our riches to America, and you shall return home a great sheik!"
His tribesmen had returned to the desert, and he was free to act for himself. Quite without fear, he followed me aboard. I spoke a good word for him to MacWilliams, and before long he was peeling potatoes in the galley. If I had thought that Murad would recognize him, I should have given my right hand rather than have invited him to share my luck; I did not know that my meeting with Mustapha had been observed by Murad, and that I was leading the lad into danger.
All too soon came the interview I feared with myowner. One day Murad came aboard theHawk, entered the cabin, and sent for me. The tiger was about to show his claws. I was not greatly frightened, for I reckoned that he would need me in his plans to gain possession of the treasure.
"Now, you scheming dog," he said, "let's not beat about the bush. Your guardian told me once of a treasure tomb hidden in the desert. You know the story. Perhaps you know, too, how I came into possession of the rector's secret. When at last I was able to uncover the tomb, all of the relics worth taking had vanished. Don't try to look innocent: you were my cabin boy on boardThe Rose of Egypt. The reason you enlisted with me so readily was that you wanted to find the chart and get a chance at the treasure at Tokra. I found that someone had entered the tomb a few hours before me. Two strange young Arabs had been seen near the spot. I choked a stablekeeper until he described both rascals. One of the two Arabs was you, eh? Tell me where the trinkets and jewels are! If your tongue is stubborn, a red-hot iron may cause it to move. What did you find? Tell me what you took away! Speak up—the way to save yourself from the torture you well deserve is to put me on the track of the treasure!"
There was nothing to be gained by secrecy, and much to be suffered, so I described the trinkets and gems in a way that made his eyes sparkle and his fingers quiver. He snarled and showed his wolfish teeth when I told him that the treasure sacks were on their way to America.
All of a sudden I was knocked down by a blow from his fist. He stepped across me and called to a sailor in Arabic. After the lapse of a minute, the door of thecabin was thrown open, and Mustapha was thrust in by a Moslem guard. He had been seized in the act of diving over the side.
"Is this the young devil that led you to Tokra?" Murad thundered at me.
"Yes," I said, "but he went only as my guide and knew nothing of why I went. He has done nothing to merit punishment."
Under a volley of threats, Mustapha was commanded to tell all that he knew of the treasure tomb. He looked at me with frightened eyes; yet his lips remained sealed.
"Tell all, Mustapha," I said, "it will free you, and it will be no more than I have already told."
His story, as he stammered it, agreed with mine in every particular.
Murad strode up and down the cabin, swearing in Arabic and English. Then he shot questions at both of us concerningThe Morning Star. When had she sailed from Derne? What was to be her next port? Was she fast? How many men and guns did she carry?
When Mustapha had answered as well as he could, Murad booted us out of the cabin. "I'm not done with you, miserable curs," he cried. "I'll need you when I boardThe Morning Star. Then for all the trouble you've caused me, I'll sew you up in the bags and drop you overboard! If you can think of a way of getting those bags you'll do well to send for them as your ransom. If I don't get them, you——" He drew his finger across his throat with a horrible gesture.
He now sent for MacWilliams and gave him sharp orders.
The next morning, after a day of hurried preparation, theHawksailed.
The ship had an armament of ten cannon, and carried an abundant supply of ammunition and provisions. A company of Moorish soldiers were on board of her. What was theHawk'smission? Were we Christians to be used in enslaving other Christians? Was theHawka ship whose mission fitted her name? Was she to be a pirate ship seeking Christian vessels as prey, and would we be made to fight and to help enslave men of our own religion and blood? Questions like these concerned the Christians among the crew, and I for one prayed that I would have the courage to jump overboard if there came a moment when I was driven to do such deeds.
On our first day out, I made bold to unburden myself to the mate. MacWilliams eyed me gravely. "You are not to ask questions. You are to do as you are told. What happens on board this ship shall be on my conscience."
He walked off, leaving me no more clear about the matter than I was before. I saw the Danes and Italians talking earnestly in their languages, and I knew that what was worrying me was also troubling them.
MacWilliams was master of navigation, but had no authority over any other activity aboard ship. There were about forty Moslems aboard who took no part in sailing the vessel. In charge of them was Murad, who had command over the entire ship and told MacWilliams the direction in which he wanted the ship to sail. I learned that he had directed MacWilliams to sail to certain ports outside of the Straits, where he hoped to fall in withThe Morning Star.
The master gunner was an English renegade named Watson, who had charge of the guns and ammunition. The commander seemed to think that European gunnerswere better than Moors, because among the gunners under Watson were several Christian renegades. I found myself wondering whether, if all of the men aboard of Christian or former Christian faith were moved by the same desire to escape, they could not overcome the Mohammedans and capture the vessel. Yet, having observed that some Christians when they adopted the Moslem religion grew as fanatical in their devotion as did the most extreme worshippers, I decided that it would not be safe to whisper such a suggestion to anyone.
It gave us entertainment while we were performing our tasks to watch the peculiar customs of the Moslems. Our greatest source of amusement was a professional wizard the Moors had brought with them. He had a book of magic, and when the commander was in doubt as to which course to take, the dark-skinned humbug would open his book and advise him according to the wisdom he drew from its pages.
When the wizard's advice was passed on to MacWilliams, he said nothing by way of dissent, but proceeded to steer and set sails as his own judgment and experience dictated. The Moslems, who had no sea knowledge, and were lost when they were out of sight of land, made no effort to find out whether the mate was following the magician's counsel.
Our fears as to what sort of work we were about to enter upon soon became certainties. On our second day out we caught sight of a large schooner and gave chase. Her crew, rather than surrender, drove the ship ashore and fled along the coast. The men Murad sent in boats to plunder the vessel brought back several guns, some gold, and such wearing apparel and furnishings as took their fancy. The sight of the gold brought backto my mind my own lost treasure. Between the prospect of attacking Christian vessels and the remembrance of what I had already suffered, I spent my night watches in great distress of mind, a state which was in no way soothed by the thought that around me lay Christian slaves racked by the same thoughts.
On the next day we sailed boldly through the Straits and out into the Atlantic Ocean. As we were making the passage through the Straits, we discovered a sail. I feared that it wasThe Morning Star. It proved, however, to be an Algerine corsair. We spoke to each other and separated.
We headed north, past Cape St. Vincent. It puzzled me that Murad would permit MacWilliams to take the ship so far from the Mediterranean. It was a dangerous undertaking for the corsairs, but theHawkwas an unusually speedy ship, and I supposed that Murad was depending on her swiftness to escape any hostile warships that he might meet.
A great homesickness came upon us as we passed into the Atlantic. It was intolerable to think of returning to the Mediterranean and the dreadful shores of Barbary when the coasts of Europe were almost in sight. I thought often of the girl who escaped from the desert and sailed to America.
Sometimes Murad's lieutenant grew angry with some of the Moors, who were slow in carrying out his orders. To spite them, he showed favor to such Christians as happened to be near.
"Bon Christiano! Bon Christiano!" he called endearingly. The next hour, however, the wind would change. He would stroll along the deck followed by the very Moslems he had reviled, and if he found any of us atfault about our work he would bid his Moors knock our heads together. He was afraid to carry these tyrannies too far, for MacWilliams was prone to look upon him with a look that warned him that the Christian sailors were too valuable to Mohammedan safety to be abused too far.
One night, while I was on watch, MacWilliams approached me. His hand rested on my shoulder with a fatherly touch that moved me greatly.