After two hours had been passed in moving slowly to and fro, hearing the word "Akka" and seeing nothing but gray sand, Sailor Bill began to feel weary, and now regretted that the old sheik had honored him with his confidence.
For the first hour of his watch he had kept a good lookout to the eastward, and had given the whole of his attention to his sentinel's duty.
Gradually his intense alertness forsook him, and he began to think of the past and future.
Themes connected with these subjects seldom troubled Bill,—his thoughts generally dwelling upon the present; but, in the darkness and solitude in which he was now placed, there was but little of the present to arrest his attention. For the want of something else to amuse his mind, it was turned to the small cannon he was carrying in his hand.
"This 'ere thing," thought he, "aint o' much use as a pistol, though it might be used as a war-club at close quarters. I hope I shan't 'ave to fire it hoff. The barrel is thin, and the bullet hinside it must be a'most as large as an 'en's heg. It ud be like enough to bust. Preaps 't aint loaded, and may 'ave been given to me for amusement. I may as well make sure about that."
After groping about for some time, the sailor succeeded in finding a small piece of stick, with which he measured the length of the barrel on the outside; then, by inserting the stick into the muzzle, he found that the depth of the barrel was not quite equal to its length.
There must be something inside therefore, but he was positive there was no ball. He next examined the pan, and found the priming all right.
"I see 'ow 'tis," muttered he, "the old sheik only wants me to make a row with it, in case I sees anything as is suspicious. He was afeard to put a ball in it lest I should be killin' one of themselves. That's his confidence. He on'y wants me to bark without being able to bite. But this don't suit me at all, at all. Faix, I'll find a bit of a stone and ram it into the barrel."
Saying this he groped about the ground in search of a pebble of the proper size; but for some time could find none to his liking. He could lay his hand on nothing but the finest sand.
While engaged in this search he fancied he heard some one approaching from the side opposite to that in which he was expecting to hear the word "Akka."
He looked in that direction, but could see nothing save the gray surface of the sea-beach.
Since being on the desert Bill had several times observed the Arabs lay themselves along the earth to listen for the sound of footsteps. This plan he now tried himself.
With his eyes close to the ground, the old sailor fancied he was able to see to a greater distance than when standing upright. There seemed to be more light on the surface of the earth than at four or five feet above it; and objects in the distance were placed more directly between his eyes and the horizon.
While thus lying extended along the sand, he heard footsteps approaching from the shore; but, believing they were those of the sentinel, he paid no attention to them. He only listened for a repetition of those sounds he fancied to have come from the opposite direction.
But nothing was now heard to the eastward; and he came to the conclusion that he had been deceived by an excited fancy.
Of one thing, however, he soon became certain. It was, that the footsteps which he supposed to be those of the Arab who kept, what Bill called, the "larboard watch," were drawing nearer than usual, and that the word "Akka" was not pronounced as before.
The old sailor slewed himself around, and directed his gaze towards the shore.
The sound of footsteps was no longer heard, but the figure of a man was perceived at no great distance from the spot.
He was not advancing nearer, but standing erect, and apparently gazing sharply about him.
Could this man be the Arab sentinel?
The latter was known to be short and of slight frame, while the man now seen appeared tall and of stout build. Instead of remaining in his upright attitude, and uttering, as the sentry should have done, the word "Akka," the stranger was seen to stoop down, and place his ear close to the earth as if to listen.
During a moment or two while the man's eyes appeared to be turned away from him, the sailor took the precaution to fill the barrel of his pistol with sand.
Should he give the alarm by firing off the pistol, and then run towards the camp?
No! he might have been deceived by an excited imagination. The individual before him might possibly be the Arab guard trying to discover his presence before giving the sign.
While the sailor was thus undecided, the huge form drew nearer, approaching on all fours. It came within eight or ten paces of the spot, and then slowly assumed an upright position. Bill now saw it was not the sentinel but the black sheik!
The old man-o'-war's-man was never more frightened in his life. He thought of discharging the pistol, and running back to the douar; but then came the thought that he would certainly be shot down the instant he should rise to his feet; and fear held him motionless.
Golah drew nearer and nearer, and the sailor seeing the scimitar uplifted suddenly formed the resolution to act.
Projecting the muzzle of his huge pistol towards the black, he pulled the trigger, and at the same instant sprang to his feet.
There was a loud deafening report, followed by a yell of wild agony.
Bill stayed not to note the effect of his fire: but ran as fast as his legs would carry him towards the camp,—already alarmed by the report of the pistol.
The Arabs were running to and fro in terrible fear and confusion, shouting as they ran.
Amidst these shouts was heard,—in the direction from which the sailor had fled,—a loud voice frantically calling, "Muley! Muley!"
"'Tis the voice of Golah!" exclaimed the Krooman in Arabic. "He is calling for his son,—Muley is his son's name!"
"They are going to attack the douar," shouted the Arab sheik, and his words were followed by a scene of the wildest terror.
The Arabs rushed here and there, mingling their cries with those of the slaves; while women shrieked, children screamed, dogs barked, horses neighed, and even the quiet camels gave voice to their alarm.
In the confusion the two wives of Golah, taking their children along with them, hurried away from the camp, and escaped undiscovered in the darkness.
They had heard the voice of the father of their children, and understood that accent of anguish in which he had called out the name of his son.
They were women,—women who, although dreading their tyrant husband in his day of power, now pitied him in his hour of misfortune.
The Arabs, anxiously expecting the appearance of their enemy, in great haste made ready to meet him; but they were left unmolested.
In a few minutes all was quiet: not a sound was heard in the vicinity of the douar; and the late alarm might have appeared only a panic of groundless fear.
The light of day was gradually gathering in the east when the Arab sheik, recovering from his excitement, ventured to make an examination of the douar and its denizens.
Two important facts presented themselves as evidence, that the fright they had experienced was not without a cause. The sentry who had been stationed to guard the camp on its southern side was not present, and Golah's two wives and their children were also absent!
There could be no mystery about the disappearance of the women. They had gone to rejoin the man whose voice had been heard calling "Muley."
But where was the Arab sentry? Had another of the party fallen a victim to the vengeance of Golah?
Taking the Krooman by one arm, the Arab sheik led him up to the old man-o'-war's-man, who, sailor-like having finished his watch, had gone to sleep.
After being awakened by the sheik, the Krooman was told to ask the white man why he fired his pistol.
"Why, to kill Golah,—the big nager!" answered Bill; "an' I'm mighty desaved if I 'ave not done it."
This answer was communicated to the sheik, who had the art of expressing unbelief with a peculiar smile, which he now practised.
Bill was asked if he had seen the black sheik.
"Seen him! sartinly I did," answered the sailor. "He was not more nor four paces from me at the time I peppered 'im. I tell you he is gone and done for."
The sheik shook his head, and again smiled incredulously.
Further inquiries were interrupted by the discovery of the body of the Arab sentinel whom Golah had killed, and all clustered around it.
The man's head was nearly severed from his body; and the blow—which must have caused instant death—had evidently been given by the black sheik. Near the corpse, tracks were observed in the sand such as no other human being but Golah could have made.
It was now broad daylight; and the Arabs, glancing along the shore to southward, made another discovery.
Two camels with a horse were seen upon the beach about half a mile off; and, leaving one of their number to guard the douar, the old sheik with his followers started off in the hope of recovering some of the property they had lost.
They were followed by most of the slaves; who, by the misfortunes of their master, were under less restraint.
On arriving near the place where the camels were, the young man we have described as Golah's brother-in-law, was found to be in charge of them. He was lying on the ground; but on the approach of the Arabs, he sprang to his feet, at the same time holding up both his hands.
He carried no weapon; and the gesture signified, "It is peace."
The two women, surrounded by their children, were near by, sitting silent and sorrowful on the sea-beach. They took no heed of the approach of the Arabs; and did not even look up as the latter drew near.
The muskets and other weapons were lying about. One of the camels was down upon the sand. It was dead; and the young negro was in the act of eating a large piece of raw flesh he had severed from its hump.
The Arab sheik inquired after Golah. He to whom the inquiry was directed pointed to the sea, where two dark bodies were seen tumbling about in the surf as it broke against the shingle of the beach.
The three midshipmen, at the command of the sheik, waded in, and dragged the bodies out of the water.
They were recognized as those of Golah and his son, Muley.
Golah's face appeared to have been frightfully lacerated; and his once large fierce eyes were altogether gone.
The brother-in-law was called on to explain the mysterious death of the black sheik and his son.
His explanation was as follows:—
"I heard Golah calling for Muley after hearing the report of a gun. From that I knew that he was wounded. Muley ran to assist him, while I stayed behind with the horse and camels. I am starving! Very soon Muley came running back, followed by his father, who seemed possessed of an evil spirit. He ran this way and that way, swinging his scimitar about, and trying to kill us both as well as the camels. He could not see, and we managed to keep out of his way. I am starving!"
The young negro here paused, and, once more picking up the piece of camel's flesh, proceeded to devour it with an alacrity that proved the truth of his assertion.
"Pig!" exclaimed the sheik, "tell your story first, and eat afterwards."
"Praise be to Allah!" said the youth, as he resumed his narrative, "Golah ran against one of the camels and killed it."
His listeners looked towards the dead camel. They saw that the body bore the marks of Golah's great scimitar.
"After killing the camel," continued the young man, "the sheik became quiet. The evil spirit had passed out of him; and he sat down upon the sand. Then his wives came up to him; and he talked to them kindly, and put his hands on each of the children, and called them by name. They screamed when they looked at him, and Golah told them not to be frightened; that he would wash his face and frighten them no more. The little boy led him to the water and he rushed into the sea as far as he could wade. He went there to die. Muley ran after to bring him out, and they were both drowned. I could not help them, for I was starving!"
The emaciated appearance of the narrator gave strong evidence of the truth of the concluding words of his story. For nearly a week he had been travelling night and day, and the want of sleep and food could not have been much longer endured.
At the command of the Arab chief, the slaves now buried the bodies of Golah and his son.
Gratified at his good fortune, in being relieved from all further trouble with his implacable foeman, the sheik determined to have a day of rest, which to his slaves was very welcome, as was also the flesh of the dead camel, now given them to eat.
About the death of Golah there was still a mystery the Arabs could not comprehend; and the services of the Krooman as interpreter were again called into requisition.
When the sheik learnt what the sailor had done,—how the pistol had been made an effective weapon by filling the barrel with sand,—he expressed much satisfaction at the manner in which the old man-o'-war's-man had performed his duty.
Full of gratitude for the service thus rendered him, he promised that not only the sailor himself, but the boy slaves, his companions, should be taken to Mogador, and restored to their friends.
After a journey of two long dreary days—days that were to the boy slaves periods of agonizing torture, from fatigue, hunger, thirst, and exposure to a burning sun—the kafila arrived at another watering-place.
As they drew near the place, our adventurers perceived that it was the same where they had first fallen into the hands of Golah.
"May God help us!" exclaimed Harry Blount, as they approached the place. "We have been here before. We shall find no water, I fear. We did not leave more than two bucketfuls in the hole; and as there has been no rain since, that must be dried up, long ago."
An expression of hopeless despair came over the countenances of his companions. They had seen, but a few days before, nearly all the water drawn out of the pool, and given to the camels.
Their fears were soon removed, and followed by the real gratification of a desire they had long been indulging—the desire to quench their thirst. There was plenty of water in the pool—a heavy deluge of rain having fallen over the little valley since they had left it.
The small supply of food possessed by the travellers would not admit of their making any delay at this watering-place; and the next morning the journey was resumed.
The Arabs appeared to bear no animosity towards the young man who had assisted Golah in killing their companions; and now that the black sheik was dead, they had no fear that the former would try to escape. The negro was one of those human beings who cannot own themselves, and who never feel at home unless with some one to control them. He quietly took his place along with the other slaves,—apparently resigned to his fate,—a fate that doomed him to perpetual slavery, though a condition but little lower than that he had occupied with his brother-in-law.
Eight days were now passed in journeying in a direction that led a little to the east of north.
To the white slaves they were days of indescribable agony, from those two terrible evils that assail all travellers through the Saära,—hunger and thirst. Within the distance passed during these eight days they found but one watering-place, where the supply was not only small in quantity but bad in quality.
It was a well, nearly dried up, containing a little water, offensive to sight and smell, and only rendered endurable to taste by the irresistible power of thirst.
The surface of the pool was covered nearly an inch thick with dead insects, which had to be removed to reach the discolored element beneath. They were not only compelled to use, but were even thankful to obtain, this impure beverage.
The route followed during these eight days was not along the seashore; and they were therefore deprived of the opportunity of satisfying their hunger with shell-fish. The Arabs were in haste to reach some place where they could procure food for their animals, and at the pace at which they rode forward, it required the utmost exertion on the part of their slaves to keep up with them.
The old man-o'-war's-man, unused to land travelling, could never have held out, had not the Arabs allowed him, part of the time, to ride on a camel. The feat he had performed, in ridding them of that enemy who had troubled them so much—and who, had he not been thwarted in his attack upon the camp, would probably have killed them all—had inspired his masters with some slight gratitude. The sailor, therefore, was permitted to ride, when they saw that otherwise they would have to leave him behind to die upon the desert.
During the last two days of the eight, our adventurers noticed something in the appearance of the country, over which they were moving, that inspired them with hope. The face of the landscape became more uneven; while here and there stunted bushes and weeds were seen, as if struggling between life and death.
The kafila had arrived on the northern border of the great Saära; and a few days more would bring them to green fields, shady groves, and streams of sparkling water.
Something resembling the latter was soon after discovered. At the close of the eighth day they reached the bed of what appeared to be a river recently dried up. Although there was no current they found some pools of stagnant water: and beside one of these the douar was established.
On a hill to the north were growing some green shrubs to which the camels were driven; and upon these they immediately commenced browsing. Not only the leaves, but the twigs and branches were rapidly twisted off by the long prehensile lips of the animals, and as greedily devoured.
It was twilight as the camp had been fairly pitched; and just then two men were seen coming towards them leading a camel. They were making for the pools of water, for the purpose of filling some goat skins which were carried on their camel. They appeared both surprised and annoyed to find the pools in possession of strangers.
Seeing they could not escape observation, the men came boldly forward, and commenced filling their goat-skins. While thus engaged they told the Arab sheik that they belonged to a caravan near at hand that was journeying southward; and that they should continue their journey early the next morning.
After the departure of the two men the Arabs held a consultation.
"They have told us a lie," remarked the old sheik, "they are not on a journey, or they would have halted here by the water. By the beard of our Prophet they have spoken falsely!"
With this opinion his followers agreed; and it was suggested that the two men they had seen were of some party encamped by the seashore, and undoubtedly amusing themselves with a wreck, or gathering wealth in some other unusual way.
Here was an opportunity not to be lost; and the Arabs determined to have a share in whatever good fortune Providence might have thrown in the way of those already upon the ground. If it should prove to be a wreck there might be serious difficulty with those already in possession; it was resolved, therefore, to wait for the morning, when they could form a better opinion of their chances of success, should a conflict be necessary to secure it.
Early next morning the kafila wasen routefor the seashore, which was discovered not far distant. On coming near a douar of seven tents was seen standing upon the beach: and several men stepped forward to receive them.
The usual salutations were exchanged, and the new comers began to look about them. Several pieces of timber lying along the shore gave evidence that their conjecture, as to a wreck having taken place, had been a correct one.
"There is but one God, and He is kind to us all," said the old sheik; "He casts the ships of unbelievers on our shores, and we have come to claim a share of His favors."
"You are welcome to all you can justly claim," answered a tall man, who appeared to be the leader of the party of wreckers. "Mahomet is the prophet of Him who sends favors to all, both good and bad. If he has sent anything for you, look along the sea-beach and find it."
On this invitation the camels of the kafila were unloaded, and the tents pitched. The new-comers then set about searching for thedébrisof the wrecked vessel.
They discovered only some spars, and other pieces of ship-timbers, which were of no value to either party.
A consultation now took place between the old sheik and his followers. They were unanimous in the belief that a sunken ship was near them, and that they had only to watch the rival wreckers, and learn where she was submerged.
Desisting from their search, they resolved to keep a lookout.
When this determination became known to the other party, its chief, after conferring with his companions, came forward, and, announcing himself as the representative of his people, proposed a conference.
"I am Sidi Hamet," said he, "and the others you see here are my friends and relatives. We are all members of the same family, and faithful followers of the Prophet. God is great, and has been kind to us. He has sent us a prize. We are about to gather the gifts of His mercy. Go your way, and leave us in peace."
"I am Rais Abdallah Yezzed," answered the old sheik, "and neither my companions nor myself are so bad but that we, too, may be numbered among those who are entitled to God's favor, when it pleases Him to cast on our shores the ships of the infidel."
In rejoinder Sidi Hamet entered upon a long harangue; in which he informed the old sheik that in the event of a vessel having gone to pieces, and the coast having been strown with merchandise, each party would have been entitled to all it could gather; but unfortunately for both, those pleasant circumstances did not now exist; although it was true, that the hulk of a vessel, containing a cargo that could not wash ashore was lying under water near by. They had discovered it, and therefore laid claim to all that it contained.
Sidi Hamet's party was a strong one, consisting of seventeen men; and therefore could afford to be communicative without the least danger of being disturbed in their plans and prospects.
They acknowledged that they had been working ten days in clearing the cargo out of the sunken vessel, and that their work was not yet half done—the goods being very difficult to get at.
The old sheik inquired of what the cargo consisted; but could obtain no satisfactory answer.
Here was a mystery. Seventeen men had been fourteen days unloading the hulk of a wrecked ship, and yet no articles of merchandise were to be seen near the spot!
A few casks, some pieces of old sail, with a number of cooking utensils that had belonged to a ship's galley, lay upon the beach; but these could not be regarded as forming any portion of the cargo of a ship.
The old sheik and his followers were in a quandary.
They had often heard of boxes full of money having been obtained from wrecked ships.
Sailors cast away upon their coast had been known to bury such commodities, and afterwards under torture to reveal the spot where the interment had been made.
Had this vessel, on which the wreckers were engaged, been freighted with money, and had the boxes been buried as soon as brought ashore?
It was possible, thought the new comers. They must wait and learn; and if there was any means by which they could claim a share in the good fortune of those who had first discovered the wreck, those means must be adopted.
The original discoverers were too impatient to stay proceedings till their departure; and feeling secure in the superiority of numbers, they recommenced their task of discharging the submerged hulk.
They advanced to the water's edge, taking along with them a long rope that had been found attached to the spars. At one end of this rope they had made a running noose, which was made fast to a man, who swam out with it to the distance of about a hundred yards.
The swimmer then dived out of sight. He had gone below to visit the wreck, and attach the rope to a portion of the cargo.
A minute after his head was seen above the surface, and a shout was sent forth. Some of his companions on the beach now commenced hauling in the rope, the other end of which had been left in their hands.
When the noose was pulled ashore, it was found to embrace a large block of sandstone, weighing about twenty-five or thirty pounds!
The Krooman had already informed Harry Blount and his companions of something he had learnt from the conversation of the wreckers; and the three mids had been watching with considerable interest the movements of the diver and his assistants.
When the block of sandstone was dragged up on the beach, they stared at each other with expressions of profound astonishment.
No wonder: the wreckers were employed in clearing the ballast out of a sunken ship!
What could be their object? Our adventurers could not guess. Nor, indeed, could the wreckers themselves have given a good reason for undergoing such an amount of ludicrous labor.
Why they had not told the old sheik what sort of cargo they were saving from the wreck, was because they had no certain knowledge of its value, or what in reality it was they were taking so much time and trouble to get safely ashore.
As they believed that the white slaves must have a perfect knowledge of the subject upon which they were themselves so ignorant, they closely scanned the countenances of the latter, as the block of ballast was drawn out upon the dry sand.
They were rewarded for their scrutiny.
The surprise exhibited by Sailor Bill and the three mids confirmed the wreckers in their belief that they were saving something of grand value; for, in fact, had the block of sandstone been a monstrous nugget of gold, the boy slaves could not have been more astonished at beholding it.
Their behavior increased the ardor of the salvors in the pursuit in which they were engaged, along with the envy of the rival party, who, by the laws of the Saäran coast, were not allowed to participate in their toil.
The Krooman now endeavored to undeceive his master as to the value of the "salvage,"—telling him that what their rivals were taking out of the sunken ship was nothing but worthless stone.
But his statement was met with a smile of incredulity. Those engaged in getting the ballast ashore regarded the Krooman's statements with equal contempt. He was either a liar or a fool, and therefore unworthy of the least attention. With this reflection they went on with their work.
After some time spent in reconsidering the subject, the old sheik called the Krooman aside; and when out of hearing of the wreckers, asked him to give an explanation of the real nature of what he himself persisted in calling the "cargo" of the wreck,—as well as a true statement of its value.
The slave did as he was desired; but the old sheik only shook his head, once more declaring his incredulity.
He had never heard of a ship that did not carry a cargo of something valuable. He thought that no men would be so stupid and foolish as to go from one country to another in ships loaded only with worthless stones.
As nothing else in the shape of cargo was found aboard the wreck, the stones must be of some value. So argued the Arab.
While the Krooman was trying to explain the real purpose for which the stones had been placed in the hold of the vessel, one of the wreckers came up and informed him that a white man was in one of their tents, that he was ill, and wished to see and converse with the infidel slaves, of whose arrival he had just heard.
The Krooman communicated this piece of intelligence to our adventurers; and the tent that contained the sick white man having been pointed out to them, they at once started towards it, expecting to see some unfortunate countryman, who, like themselves, had been cast away on the inhospitable shores of the Saära.
On entering within the tent to which they had been directed, they found, lying upon the ground, a man about forty years of age. Although he appeared a mere skeleton, consisting of little more than skin and bones, he did not present the general aspect of a man suffering from ill health; nor yet would he have passed for awhiteman anywhere out of Africa.
"You are the first English people I've seen for over thirty years," said he, as they entered the tent: "for I can tell by your looks that every one of you are English. You are my countrymen. I was white once myself; and you will be as black as I am when you have been sun-scorched here for forty-three years, as I have been."
"What!" exclaimed Terence; "have you been a slave in the Saära so long as that? If so, God help us! What hope is there of our ever getting free?"
The young Irishman spoke in a tone of despair.
"Very little chance of your ever seeing home again, my lad," answered the invalid; "butIhave a chance now, if you and your comrades don't spoil it. For God's sake don't tell these Arabs that they are the fools they are for making salvage of the ballast. If you do, they'll be sure to make an end of me. It's all my doing. I've made them believe the stones are valuable, so that they may take them to some place where I can escape. It is the only chance I have had for years,—don't destroy it, as you value the life of a fellow-countryman."
From further conversation with the man, our adventurers learned that he had been shipwrecked on the coast many years before, and had ever since been trying to get transported to some place where he might be ransomed. He declared that he had been backward and forward across the desert forty or fifty times; and that he had belonged to not less than fifty masters!
"I have only been with these fellows a few weeks," said he, "and fortunately when we came this way we were able to tell where the sunken ship was by seeing her foremast then sticking out of the water. The vessel was in ballast; and the crew probably put out to sea in their boats, without being discovered. It was the first ship my masters had ever heard of without a cargo; and they would not believe but what the stones were such, and must be worth something—else why should they be carried about the world in a ship. I told them it was a kind of stone from which gold was obtained; but that it must be taken to some place where there was plenty of coal or wood, before the gold could be melted out of it, and then intrusted to white men who understood the art of extracting the precious metal from the rocks.
"They believe all this; for they can see shining particles in the sandstone which they think is really gold, or something that can be converted into it. For four days they forced me to toil, at diving and assisting them; but that didn't suit my purpose; and I've at length succeeded in making them believe that I am not able to work any longer."
"But do you really think," asked Harry Blount, "that they will carry the ballast any distance without learning its real value?"
"Yes; I did think that they might take it to Mogador, and that they would let me go along with them."
"But some one will meet them, and tell them that their lading is worthless?" suggested Colin.
"No, I think that fear of losing their valuable freight will keep them from letting any one know what they've got. They are hiding it in the sand now, as fast as they get it ashore, for fear some party stronger than themselves should come along and take it away from them. I intend to tell them after they have started on their journey, not to let any one see or know what they have, until they are safe within the walls of Mogador, where they will be under the protection of the governor. They have promised to take me along with them, and if I once get within sight of a seaport, not all the Arabs in Africa will hinder me from recovering my liberty."
While the pretended invalid was talking to them, Sailor Bill had been watching him, apparently with eager interest.
"Beg pardon for 'aving a small taste o' difference wid you in the mather ov your age," said the sailor, as soon as the man had ceased speaking; "but I'll never belave you've been about 'ere for forty years. It can't be so long as that."
The two men, after staring at each other for a moment, uttered the words "Jim!" "Bill!" and then, springing forward, each grasped the hand of the other. Two brothers had met!
The three mids remembered that Bill had told them of a brother, who, when last heard from, was a slave somewhere in the Saära, and they needed no explanation of the scene now presented to them.
The two brothers were left alone; and after the others had gone out of the tent they returned to the Krooman—who had just succeeded in convincing the sheik, that the stones being fished out of the sunken ship were, at that time and place, of no value whatever.
All attempts on the part of the old sheik to convince the wreckers, as he had been convinced himself, proved fruitless.
The arguments he used to them were repeated to the sailor, Bill's brother; and by him were easily upset with a few words.
"Of course they will try to make you believe the cargo is no good," retorted Jim. "They wish you to leave it, so that they can have it all to themselves. Does not common sense tell you that they are liars?"
This was conclusive; and the wreckers continued their toil, extracting stone after stone out of the hold of the submerged ship.
Sailor Bill, at his brother's request, then summoned his companions to the tent.
"Which of you have been trying to do me an injury?" inquired Jim. "I told you not to say that the stones were worthless."
It was explained to him how the Krooman had been enlightening his master.
"Call the Krooman," said Jim, "and I'll enlighten him. If these Arabs find out that they have been deceived, I shall be killed, and your master—the old sheik—will certainly lose all his property. Tell him to come here also. I must talk to him. Something must be done immediately, or I shall be killed."
The Krooman and the old sheik were conducted into the tent; and Jim talked to them in the Arabic language.
"Leave my masters alone to their folly," said he to the sheik; "and they will be so busy that you can depart in peace. If not, and you convince them that they have been deceived, they will rob you of all you have got. You have already said enough to excite their suspicions, and they will in time learn that I have been humbugging them. My life is no longer safe in their company. You buy me, then; and let us all take our departure immediately."
"Are the stones in the wreck really worth nothing?" asked the sheik.
"No more than the sand on the shore; and when they find out that such is the case, some one will be robbed. They have come to the seacoast to seek wealth, and they will have it one way or the other. They are a tribe of bad men. Buy me, and leave them to continue the task they have so ignorantly undertaken."
"You are not well," replied the sheik; "and if I buy you, you cannot walk."
"Let me ride on a camel until I get out of sight of these my masters," answered Jim; "you will then see whether I can walk or not. They will sell me cheap; for they think I am done up. But I am not; I was only weary of diving after worthless stones."
The old sheik promised to follow Jim's advice; and ordered his companions to prepare immediately for the continuance of their journey.
Sidi Hamet was called, and asked by Rais Abdallah if he would sell some of the stones they had saved from the infidel ship.
"Bismillah! No!" exclaimed the wrecker. "You say they are of no value, and I do not wish to cheat any true believer of the prophet."
"Will yougiveme some of them, then?"
"No! Allah forbid that Sidi Hamet should ever make a worthless present to a friend!"
"I am a merchant," rejoined the old sheik; "and wish to do business. Have you any slaves, or other property you can sell me?"
"Yes! You see that Christian dog," replied the wrecker, pointing to Sailor Bill's brother; "I will sell him."
"You have promised to take me to Swearah," interrupted Jim. "Do not sell me, master; I think I shall get well some time, and will then work for you as hard as I can."
Sidi Hamet cast upon his infidel slave a look of contempt at this allusion to his illness; but Jim's remark, and the angry glance, were both unheeded by the Arab sheik.
The slave's pretended wishes not to be sold were disregarded; and for the consideration of an old shirt and a small camel-hair tent, he became the property of Rais Abdallah Yezzed.
The old sheik and his followers then betook themselves to their camels; and the kafila was hurried up the dry bed of the river,—leaving the wreckers to continue their toilsome and unprofitable task.
After leaving the coast, the travellers kept at a quick pace, and Sailor Bill and his brother had but little opportunity of holding converse together. When the douar had been pitched for the night, the old salt and the "young gentlemen," his companions, gathered around the man whose experience in the miseries of Saäran slavery so far exceeded their own.
"Now, Jim," began the old man-o'-war's-man, "you must spin us the yarn of all your cruising since you've been here. We've seen somethin' o' the elephant since we've been cast ashore, and that's not long. I don't wonder at you sayin' you 'ave been aboard this craft forty-three years."
"Yes, that is the correct time according to my reckoning," interrupted Jim; "but, Bill, you don't look much older than when I saw you last. How long ago was it?"
"About eleven years."
"Eleven years! I tell you that I've been here over forty."
"'Ow can that be?" asked Bill. "Daze it, man, you'll not be forty years old till the fourteenth o' the next month. You 'ave lost yer senses, an' in troth, it an't no wonder!"
"That is true, for there is nothing in the Saära to help a man keep his reckoning. There are no seasons; and every day is as like another as two seconds in the same minute. But surely I must have been here for more than eleven years."
"No," answered Bill, "ye 'ave no been here only a wee bit langer than tin; but afther all ye must 'ave suffered in that time, it is quare that ye should a know'd me at all, at all."
"I did not know you until you spoke," rejoined Jim "Then I couldn't doubt that it was you who stood before me, when I heard our father's broad Scotch, our mother's Irish brogue, and the talk of the cockneys amongst whom your earliest days were passed, all mingled together."
"You see, Master Colly," said Bill, turning to the young Scotchman. "My brother Jim has had the advantage of being twelve years younger than I; and when he was old enough to go to school, I was doing something to help kape 'im there, and for all that I believe he is plased to see me."
"Pleased to see you!" exclaimed Jim. "Of course I am."
"I'm sure av it," said Bill.
"Well, then, brother, go ahead, an' spin us your yarn."
"I have no one yarn to spin," replied Jim, "for a narrative of my adventures in the desert would consist of a thousand yarns, each giving a description of some severe suffering or disappointment. I can only tell you that it seems to me that I have passed many years in travelling through the sands of the Saära, years in cultivating barley on its borders, years in digging wells, and years in attending flocks of goats, sheep, and other animals. I have had many masters,—all bad, and some worse,—and I have had many cruel disappointments about regaining my liberty. I was once within a single day's journey of Mogador, and was then sold again and carried back into the very heart of the desert. I have attempted two or three times to escape; but was recaptured each time, and nearly killed for the unpardonable dishonesty of trying to rob my master of my own person. I have often been tempted to commit suicide; but a sort of womanly curiosity and stubbornness has prevented me. I wished to see how long Fortune would persecute me, and I was determined not to thwart her plans by putting myself beyond their reach. I did not like to give in, for any one who tries to escape from trouble by killing himself, shows that he has come off sadly worsted in the war of life."
"You are quite right," said Harry Blount; "but I hope that your hardest battles in that war are now over. Our masters have promised to carry us to some place where we may be ransomed by our countrymen, and you of course will be taken along with us."
"Do not flatter yourselves with that hope," said Jim. "Iwas amused with it for several years. Every master I have had gave me the same promise, and here I am yet. I did think when my late owners were saving the stones from the wreck, that I could get them to enter the walls of some seaport town, and that possibly they might take me along with them. But that hope has proved as delusive as all others I have entertained since shipwrecked on the shore of this accursed country. I believe there are a few who are fortunate enough to regain their liberty; but the majority of sailors cast away on the Saäran coast never have the good fortune to get away from it. They die under the hardships and ill-treatment to which they are exposed upon the desert—without leaving a trace of their existence any more than the dogs or camels belonging to their common masters.
"You have asked me to give an account of my life since I have been shipwrecked. I cannot do that; but I shall give you an easy rule by which you may know all about it. We will suppose you have all been three months in the Saära, and Bill here says that I have been here ten years; therefore I have experienced about forty times as long a period of slavery as one of yourselves. Now, multiply the sum total of your sufferings by forty, and you will have some idea of what I have undergone.
"You have probably witnessed some scenes of heartless cruelty—scenes that shocked and wounded the most sensitive feelings of your nature. I have witnessed forty times as many. While suffering the agonies of thirst and hunger, you may have prayed for death as a relief to your anguish. Where such have been your circumstances once, they have been mine for forty times.
"You may have had some bright hopes of escaping, and once more revisiting your native land; and then have experienced the bitterness of disappointment. In this way I have suffered forty times as much as any one of you."
Sailor Bill and the young gentlemen,—who had been for several days under the pleasant hallucination that they were on the high road to freedom,—were again awakened to a true sense of their situation by the words of a man far more experienced than they in the deceitful ways of the desert.
Before separating for the night, the three mids learnt from Bill and his brother that the latter had been first officer of the ship that had brought him to the coast. They could perceive by his conversation that he was an intelligent man,—one whose natural abilities and artificial acquirements were far superior to those of their shipmate,—the old man-of-war's-man.
"If such an accomplished individual," reasoned they, "has been for ten years a slave in the Saära, unable to escape or reach any place where his liberty might be restored, what hope is there for us?"
Every hour of the journey presented some additional evidence that the kafila was leaving the great desert behind, and drawing near a land that might be considered fertile.
On the day after parting from the wreckers a walled town was reached, and near it, on the sides of some of the hills, were seen growing a few patches of barley.
At this place the caravan rested for the remainder of the day. The camels and horses were furnished with a good supply of food, and water drawn from deep wells. It was the best our adventurers had drunk since being cast away on the African coast.
Next morning the journey was continued.
After they had been on the road about two hours, the old sheik and a companion, riding in advance of the others, stopped before what seemed, in the distance, a broad stream of water.
All hastened forward, and the Boy Slaves beheld a sight that filled them with much surprise and considerable alarm. It was a stream,—a stream of living creatures moving over the plain.
It was a migration of insects,—the famed locusts of Africa.
They were young ones,—not yet able to fly; and for some reason, unknown perhaps even to themselves, they were taking this grand journey.
Their march seemed conducted in regular order, and under strict discipline.
They formed a living moving belt of considerable breadth, the sides of which appeared as straight as any line mathematical science could have drawn.
Not one could be seen straggling from the main body, which was moving along a track too narrow for their numbers,—scarce half of them having room on the sand, while the other half were crawling along on the backs of theircompagnons du voyage.
Even the Arabs appeared interested in this African mystery, and paused for a few minutes to watch the progress of the glittering stream presented by these singular insects.
The old sheik dismounted from his camel; and with his scimitar broke the straight line formed by the border of the moving mass—sweeping them off to one side.
The space was instantly filled up again by those advancing from behind, and the straight edge restored, the insects crawling onward without the slightest deviation.
The sight was not new to Sailor Bill's brother. He informed his companions that should a fire be kindled on their line of march, the insects, instead of attempting to pass around it, would move right into its midst until it should become extinguished with their dead bodies.
After amusing himself for a few moments in observing these insects, the sheik mounted his camel, and, followed by the kafila, commenced moving through the living stream.
A hoof could not be put down without crushing a score of the creatures; but immediately on the hoof being lifted, the space was filled with as many as had been destroyed!
Some of the slaves, with their naked feet, did not like wading through this living crawling stream. It was necessary to use force to compel them to pass over it.
After looking right and left, and seeing no end to the column of insects, our adventurers made a rush, and ran clear across it.
At every step their feet fell with a crunching sound, and were raised again, streaming with the blood of the mangled locusts.
The belt of the migratory insects was about sixty yards in breadth; yet, short as was the distance, the Boy Slaves declared that it was more disagreeable to pass over than any ten miles of the desert they had previously traversed.
One of the blacks, determined to make the crossing as brief as possible, started in a rapid run. When about half way through, his foot slipped, and he fell full length amidst the crowd of creepers.
Before he could regain his feet, hundreds of the disgusting insects had mounted upon him, clinging to his clothes, and almost smothering him by their numbers.
Overcome by disgust, horror, and fear, he was unable to rise; and two of his black companions were ordered to drag him out of the disagreeable company into which he had stumbled.
After being rescued and delivered from the clutch of the locusts, it was many minutes before he recovered his composure of mind, along with sufficient nerve to resume his journey.
Sailor Bill had not made the crossing along with the others; and for some time resisted all the attempts of the Arabs to force him over the insect stream.
Two of them at length laid hold of him; and, after dragging him some paces into the crawling crowd, left him to himself.
Being thus brought in actual contact with the insects, the old sailor saw that the quickest way of getting out of the scrape was to cross over to the other side.
This he proceeded to do in the least time, and with the greatest possible noise. His paces were long, and made with wonderful rapidity; and each time his foot came to the ground, he uttered a horrible yell, as though it had been planted upon a sheet of red-hot iron.
Bill's brother had now so far recovered from his feigned illness, that he was able to walk along with the Boy Slaves.
Naturally conversing about the locusts, he informed his companions, that the year before he had been upon a part of the Saäran coast where a cloud of these insects had been driven out to sea by a storm, and drowned. They were afterwards washed ashore in heaps; the effluvia from which became so offensive that the fields of barley near the shore could not be harvested, and many hundred acres of the crop were wholly lost to the owners.
Soon after encountering the locusts, the kafila came upon a well-beaten road, running through a fertile country, where hundreds of acres of barley could be seen growing on both sides.
That evening, for some reason unknown to the slaves, their masters did not halt at the usual hour. They saw many walled villages, where dwelt the proprietors of the barley fields; but hurried past them without stopping either for water or food—although their slaves were sadly in need of both.
In vain the latter complained of thirst, and begged for water. The only reply to their entreaties was a harsh command to move on faster, frequently followed by a blow.
Towards midnight, when the hopes and strength of all were nearly exhausted, the kafila arrived at a walled village, where a gate was opened to admit his slaves. The old sheik then informed them that they should have plenty of food and drink, and would be allowed to rest for two or three days in the village.
A quantity of water was then thickened with barley meal; and of this diet they were permitted to have as much as they could consume.
It was after night when they entered the gate of the village, and nothing could be seen. Next morning they found themselves in the centre of a square enclosure surrounded by about twenty houses, standing within a high wall. Flocks of sheep and goats, with a number of horses, camels, and donkeys, were also within the inclosure.
Jim informed his companions that most of the Saäran Arabs have fixed habitations, where they dwell the greater part of the year,—generally walled towns, such as the one they had now entered.
The wall is intended for a protection against robbers, at the same time that it serves as a pen to keep their flocks from straying or trespassing on the cultivated fields during the night time.
It was soon discovered that the Arabs had arrived at their home; for as soon as day broke, they were seen in company with their wives and families. This accounted for their not making halt at any of the other villages. Being so near their own, they had made an effort to reach it without extending their journey into another day.
"I fear we are in the hands of the wrong masters for obtaining our freedom," said Jim to his companions. "If they were traders, they might take us farther north and sell us; but it's clear they are not! They are graziers, farmers, and robbers, when the chance arises,—that's what they be! While waiting for their barley to ripen, they have been on a raiding expedition to the desert, in the hope of capturing a few slaves, to assist them in reaping their harvest."
Jim's conjecture was soon after found to be correct. On the old sheik being asked when he intended taking his slaves on to Swearah, he answered:—
"Our barley is now ripe, and we must not leave it to spoil. You must help us in the harvest, and that will enable us to go to Swearah all the sooner."
"Do you really intend to take your slaves to Swearah?" asked the Krooman.
"Certainly!" replied the sheik. "Have we not promised? But we cannot leave our fields now. Bismillah! our grain must be gathered."
"It is just as I supposed," said Jim. "They will promise anything. They do not intend taking us to Mogador at all. The same promise has been made to me by the same sort of people a score of times."
"What shall we do?" asked Terence.
"We must do nothing," answered Jim. "We must not assist them in any way, for the more useful we are to them the more reluctant they will be to part with us. I should have obtained my liberty years ago, had I not tried to gain the good-will of my Arab masters, by trying to make myself useful to them. That was a mistake, and I can see it now. We must not give them the slightest assistance in their barley-cutting."
"But they will compel us to help them?" suggested Colin.
"They cannot do that if we remain resolute; and I tell you all that you had better be killed at once than submit. If we assist in their harvest, they will find something else for us to do, and your best days, as mine have been, will be passed in slavery! Each of you must make himself a burden and expense to whoever owns him, and then we may be passed over to some trader who has been to Mogador, and knows that he can make money by taking us there to be redeemed. That is our only chance. These Arabs don't know that we are sure to be purchased for a good price in any large seaport town, and they will not run any risk in taking us there. Furthermore, these men are outlaws, desert robbers, and I don't believe that they dare enter the Moorish dominions. We must get transferred to other hands, and the only way to do that is to refuse work."
Our adventurers agreed to be guided by Jim's counsels, although confident that they would experience much difficulty in following them.
Early on the morning of the second day after the Arabs reached their home, all the slaves, both white and black, were roused from their slumbers; and after a spare breakfast of barley-gruel, were commanded to follow their masters to the grain fields, outside the walls of the town.
"Do you want us to work?" asked Jim, addressing himself directly to the old sheik.
"Bismillah! Yes!" exclaimed the Arab. "We have kept you too long in idleness. What have you done, or who are you, that we should maintain you? You must work for your living, as we do ourselves!"
"We cannot do anything on land," said Jim. "We are sailors, and have only learnt to work on board a ship."
"By Allah, you will soon learn! Come, follow us to the barley fields!"
"No; we have all agreed to die rather than work for you! You promised to take us to Swearah; and we will go there or die. We will not be slaves any longer!"
Most of the Arabs, with their wives and children, had now assembled around the white men, who were ordered instantly to move on.
"It will not do for us to say we will not or can't move on," said Jim, speaking to his companions in English. "We must go to the field. They can make us do that; but they can't make us work. Go quietly to the field; but don't make yourselves useful when you get there."
This advice was followed; and the Boy Slaves soon found themselves by the side of a large patch of barley, ready for the reaping-hook. A sickle of French manufacture was then placed in the hands of each, and they were instructed how to use them.
"Never mind," said Jim. "Go to work with a will, mates! We'll show them a specimen of how reaping is done aboard ship!"
Jim proceeded to set an example by cutting the grain in a careless manner—letting the heads fall in every direction, and then trampling them under foot as he moved on.
The same plan was pursued by his brother Bill, the Krooman, and Harry Blount.
In the first attempt to use the sickle, Terence was so awkward as to fall forward and break the implement into two pieces.
Colin behaved no better: since he managed to cut one of his fingers, and then apparently fainted away at the sight of the blood.
The forenoon was passed by the Arabs in trying to train their slaves to the work, but in this they were sadly unsuccessful.
Curses, threats, and blows were expended upon them to no purpose, for the Christian dogs seemed only capable of doing much harm and no good. During the afternoon they were allowed to lie idle upon the ground, and watch their masters cutting the barley; although this indulgence was purchased at the expense of lacerated skins and aching bones. Nor was this triumph without the cost of further suffering: for they were not allowed a mouthful of food or a drop of water, although an abundance of both had been distributed to the other laborers in the field.
All five, however, remained obstinate; withstanding hunger and thirst, threats, cursings, and stripes,—each one disdaining to be the first to yield to the wishes of their Arab masters.
That night, after being driven within the walls of the town, the white slaves, along with their guard and the Krooman, were fastened in a large stone building partly in ruins, that had been recently used as a goat-pen.
They were not allowed a mouthful of food nor a drop of water, and sentinels walked around all night to prevent them from breaking out of their prison.
No longer targets for the beams of a blazing sun, they were partly relieved from their sufferings; but a few handfuls of barley they had managed to secrete and bring in from the field, proved only sufficient to sharpen an appetite which they could devise no means of appeasing.
A raging thirst prevented them from having much sleep; and, on being turned out next morning, and ordered back to the barley fields, weak with hunger and want of sleep, they were strongly tempted to yield obedience to their masters.
The black slaves had worked well the day before; and, having satisfied their masters, had received plenty of food and drink.
Their white companions in misery saw them eating their breakfast before being ordered to the field.
"Jim," said Sailor Bill, "I've 'alf a mind to give in. I must 'ave somethin' to heat an' drink. I'm starvin' all over."
"Don't think of it, William," said his brother. "Unless you wish to remain for years in slavery, as I have done, you must not yield. Our only hope of obtaining liberty is to give the Arabs but one chance of making anything by us,—the chance of selling us to our countrymen. They won't let us die,—don't think it! We are worth too much for that. They will try to make us work if they can; but we are fools if we let them succeed."
Again being driven to the field, another attempt was made by the Arabs to get some service out of them.
"We can do nothing now," said Jim to the old sheik; "we are dying with hunger and thirst. Our life has always been on the sea, and we can do nothing on land."
"There is plenty of food for those who earn it," rejoined the sheik; "and we cannot give those food who do not deserve it."
"Then give us some water."
"Allah forbid! We are not your servants to carry water for you."
All attempts to make the white slaves perform their task having failed, they were ordered to sit down in the hot sun; where they were tantalized with the sight of the food and water of which they were not permitted to taste.
During the forenoon of the day, all the eloquence Jim could command was required to prevent his brother from yielding. The old man-o'-war's-man was tortured by extreme thirst, and was once or twice on the eve of selling himself in exchange for a cooling draught.
Long years of suffering on the desert had inured Jim to its hardships; and not so strongly tempted as the others, it was easier for him to remain firm.
Since falling into the company of his countrymen, his hope of freedom had revived, and he was determined to make a grand effort to regain it.
He knew that five white captives were worth the trouble of taking to some seaport frequented by English ships; and he believed, if they refrained from making themselves useful, there was a prospect of their being thus disposed of.
Through his influence, therefore, the refractory slaves remained staunch in their resolution to abstain from work.
Their masters now saw that they were better off in the field than in the prison. They could not be prevented from obtaining a few heads of the barley, which they greedily ate, nor from obtaining a little moisture by chewing the roots of the weeds growing around them.
As soon as this was noticed, two of the Arabs were sent to conduct them back to the place where they had been confined on the night before.
It was with the utmost exertion that Sailor Bill and Colin were able to reach the town; while the others, with the exception of Jim, were in a very weak and exhausted state. Hunger and thirst were fast subduing them—in body, if not in spirit.
On reaching the door of the goat-pen, they refused to go in, all clamoring loudly for food and water.
Their entreaties were met with the declaration: that it was the will of God that those who would not work should suffer starvation.
"Idleness," argued their masters, "is always punished by ill-health"; and they wound up by expressing their thanks that such was the case.
It was not until the two Arabs had obtained the assistance of several of the women and boys of the village that they succeeded in getting the white slaves within the goat-pen.
"Jim, I tell you I can't stand this any longer," said Sailor Bill. "Call an' say to 'em as I gives in, and will work to-morrow, if they will let me have water."
"And so will I," said Terence. "There is nothing in the future to compensate for this suffering, and I can endure it no longer."
"Nor will I," exclaimed Harry; "I must have something to eat and drink immediately. We shall all be punished in the next world for self-murder in this unless we yield."
"Courage! patience!" exclaimed Jim. "It is better to suffer for a few hours more than to remain all our lives in slavery."
"What do I care for the future?" muttered Terence; "the present is everything. He is a fool who kills himself to-day to keep from being hungry ten years after. I will try to work to-morrow, if I live so long."
"Yes, call an' tell 'em, Jem, as 'ow we gives in, an' they'll send us some refreshment," entreated the old sailor. "It ain't in human nature to die of starvation if one can 'elp it."
But neither Jim nor the Krooman would communicate to the Arabs the wishes of their companions; and the words and signals the old sailor made to attract the attention of those outside were unheeded.
Early in the evening, both Colin and the Krooman also expressed themselves willing to sacrifice the future for the present.
"We have nothing to do with the future," said Colin; in answer to Jim's entreaties that they should remain firm. "The future is the care of God, and we are only concerned with the present. We ought to promise anything if we can obtain food by it."
"I tink so too now," said the Krooman; "for it am worse than sure dat if we starve now we no be slaves bom by."
"They will not quite starve us to death," said Jim. "I have told you before that we are worth too much for that. If we will not work they will sell us, and we may reach Mogador. If we do work, we may stay here for years. I entreat you to hold out one day longer."
"I cannot," answered one.
"Nor I," exclaimed another.
"Let us first get something to eat, and then take our liberty by force," said Terence, "I fancy that if I had a drink of water, I could whip all the Arabs on earth."
"And so could I," said Colin.
"And I, too," added Harry Blount.
Sailor Bill had sunk upon the floor, hardly conscious of what the others were saying; but, partly aroused by the word water, repeated it, muttering, in a hoarse whisper, "Water! Water!"
The Krooman and the three youths joined in the cry; and then all, as loudly as their parched throats would permit, shouted the word, "Water! Water!"
The call for water was apparently unheeded by the Arab men, but it was evidently music to many of the children of the village, for it attracted them to the door of the goat-pen, around which they clustered, listening with strong expressions of delight.
Through a long night of indescribable agony, the cry of "Water! Water!" was often repeated in the pen, and at each time in tones fainter and more supplicating than before.
The cry at length became changed from a demand to a piteous prayer.