Next morning, when the Arabs opened the door of the prison, Sailor Bill and Colin were found unable to rise; and the old salt seemed quite unconscious of all efforts made to awaken his attention.
Not till then did Jim's resolution begin to give way. He would now submit to save them from further suffering; but although knowing it was the wish of all that he should tender their submission on the terms the Arabs required, for a while be delayed doing so, in order to discover the course their masters designed adopting towards them.
"Are you Christian dogs willing to earn your food now?" inquired the old sheik, as he entered the goat-pen.
Faint and weak with hunger, nearly mad with thirst, alarmed for the condition of his brother, and pitying the agony of the others, Jim was about to answer the sheik's question in the affirmative; but there was something in the tone in which the question had been put, that determined him to refrain for a little longer.
The earthly happiness of six men might depend upon the next word he should utter, and that word he should not speak without some deliberation.
With an intellect sharpened by torture, Jim turned his gaze from the old sheik upon several other Arabs that had come near.
He could see that they had arrived at some decision amongst themselves, as to what they should do, and that they did not seem much interested in the ultimatum demanded by the sheik's inquiry.
This lack of excitement or interest did not look like further starvation and death; and in place of telling the Arabs that they were willing to submit, Jim informed the old sheik that all were determined to die rather than remain slaves.
"There is not one of us that wishes to live," he added, "except for the purpose of seeing our native land again. Our bodies are now weak, but our spirits are still strong. We will die!"
On receiving this answer, the Arabs departed, leaving the Christians in the pen.
The Krooman, who had been listening during the interview, then faintly called after them to return; but he was stopped by Jim, who still entertained the hope that his firmness would yet be rewarded.
Half an hour passed, and Jim began to doubt again. He might not have correctly interpreted the expressions he had noted upon the faces of the Arabs.
"What did you tell them?" muttered Terence. "Did you tell them that we were willing to work, if they would give us water?"
"Yes—certainly!" answered Jim, now beginning to regret that he had not tendered their submission before it might be too late.
"Then why do they not come and relieve us?" asked Terence, in a whisper—hoarse from despair.
Jim vouchsafed no answer; and the Krooman seemed in too much mental and bodily anguish to heed what had been said.
Shortly after, Jim could hear the flocks being driven out of the town; and looking through a small opening in the wall of the pen, he could see some of the Arabs going out towards the barley fields.
Could it be that he had been mistaken—that the Arabs were going to apply the screw of starvation for another day? Alarmed by this conjecture, he strove to hail them, and bring them back; but the effort only resulted in a hoarse whisper.
"May God forgive me!" thought he. "My brother, as well as all the others, will die before night! I have murdered them, and perhaps myself!"
Driven frantic with the thought, frenzy furnished him with the will and strength to speak out.
His voice could now be heard, for the walls of the stone building rang with the shouts of a madman!
He assailed the door with such force that the structure gave way, and Jim rushed out, prepared to make any promises or terms with their masters, to save the lives he had endangered by his obstinacy.
His submission was not required: for on looking out, two men and three or four boys were seen coming towards the pen, bearing bowls of water, and dishes filled with barley-gruel.
Jim had conquered in the strife between master and man. The old sheik had given orders for the white slaves to be fed.
Jim's frenzy immediately subsided into an excitement of a different nature.
Seizing a calabash of water, he ran to his brother Bill; and raising him into a sitting posture, he applied the vessel to the man-o'-war's-man's lips.
Bill had not strength even to drink, and the water had to be poured down his throat.
Not until all of his companions had drunk, and swallowed a few mouthfuls of the barley-gruel, did Jim himself partake of anything.
The effect of food and water in restoring the energies of a starving man is almost miraculous; and he now congratulated his companions on the success of his scheme.
"It is all right!" he exclaimed. "We have conquered them! We shall not have to reap their harvest! We shall be fed, fattened, and sold; and perhaps be taken to Mogador. We should thank God for bringing us all safely through the trial. Had we yielded, there would have been no hope of ever regaining our liberty!"
Two days elapsed, during which time our adventurers were served with barley-gruel twice a day. They were allowed a sufficient quantity of water, with only the trouble of bringing it from the well, and enduring a good deal of insult and abuse from the women and children whom they chanced to meet on their way.
The second Krooman, who, in a moment of weakness inspired by the torture of thirst, had assisted the other slaves at their task, now tried in vain to get off from working. He came each evening to the pen to converse with his countryman; and at these meetings bitterly expressed his regret that he had submitted.
There was no hope for him now, for he had given proof that he could be made useful to his owners.
On the evening of the second day after they had been relieved from starvation, the white slaves were visited in their place of confinement by three Arabs they had not before seen.
These were well-armed, well-dressed, fine-looking fellows, having altogether a more respectable appearance than any inhabitants of the desert they had yet encountered.
Jim immediately entered into conversation with them; and learned that they were merchants, travelling with a caravan; and that they had claimed the hospitality of the town for that night.
They were willing to purchase slaves; and had visited the pen to examine those their hosts were offering for sale.
"You are just the men we are most anxious to see," said Jim, in the Arabic language, which, during his long residence in the country, he had become acquainted with, and could speak fluently. "We want some merchant to buy us, and take us to Mogador, where we may find friends to ransom us."
"I once bought two slaves," rejoined one of the merchants, "and at great expense took them to Mogador. They told me that their consul would be sure to redeem them; but I found that they had no consul there. They were not redeemed; and I had to bring them away again,—having all the trouble and expense of a long journey."
"Were they Englishmen?" asked Jim.
"No: Spaniards."
"I thought so. Englishmen would certainly have been ransomed."
"That is not so certain," replied the merchant; "the English may not always have a consul in Mogador to buy up his countrymen."
"We do not care whether there is one or not!" answered Jim. "One of the young fellows you see here has an uncle—a rich merchant in Mogador, who will ransom not only him, but all of his friends. The three young men you see are officers of an English ship-of-war. They have rich fathers in England,—all of them grand sheiks,—and they were learning to be captains of war-ships, when they were lost on this coast. The uncle of one of them in Mogador will redeem the whole party of us."
"Which is he who has the rich uncle?" inquired one of the Arabs.
Jim pointed to Harry Blount, saying, "That is the youngster. His uncle owns many great vessels, that come every year to Swearah, laden with rich cargoes."
"What is the name of this uncle?"
To give an appearance of truth to his story, Jim knew that it was necessary for some of the others to say something that would confirm it; and turning towards Harry, he muttered, "Master Blount, you are expected to say something—only two or three words—any thing you like!"
"For God's sake, get them to buy us!" said Harry, in complying with the singular request made to him.
Believing that the name he must give to the Arabs should something resemble in sound the words Harry had spoken, Jim told them that the name of the Mogador merchant was "For God's sake buy us."
After repeating these words two or three times, the Arabs were able to pronounce them—after a fashion.
"Ask the young man," commanded one of them, "if he is sure the merchant 'For God's sake bias' will ransom you all?"
"When I am done speaking to you," said Jim, whispering to Harry, "say Yes! nod your head, and then utter some words!"
"Yes!" exclaimed Harry, giving his head an abrupt inclination. "I think I know what you are trying to do, Jim. All right!"
"Yes!" said Jim, turning to the Arab; "the young fellow says that he is quite certain his uncle will buy us all. Our friends at home will repay him."
"But how about the black man?" asked one of the merchants. "He is not an Englishman?"
"No; but he speaks English. He has sailed in English ships, and will certainly be redeemed with the rest."
The Arabs now retired from the pen, after promising to call and see our adventurers early in the morning.
After their departure, Jim related the whole of the conversation to his companions, which had the effect of inspiring them with renewed hope.
"Tell them anything," said Harry, "and promise anything; for I think there is no doubt of our being ransomed, if taken to Mogador, although I'm sure I have no uncle there, and don't know whether there's any English consul at that port."
"To get to Mogador is our only chance," said Jim; "and I wish I were guilty of no worse crime than using deception, to induce some one to take us there. I have a hope that these men will buy us on speculation; and if lies will induce them to do so, they shall have plenty of them from me. And you," continued he, turning to the Krooman, "you must not let them know that you speak their language, or they will not give a dollar for you. When they come here in the morning, you must converse with the rest of us in English,—so that they may have reason to think that you will also be redeemed."
Next morning, the merchants again came to the pen, and the slaves, at their request, arose and walked out to the open space in front, where they could be better examined.
After becoming satisfied that all were capable of travelling, one of the Arabs, addressing Jim, said:—
"We are going to purchase you, if you satisfy us that you are not trying to deceive us, and agree to the terms we offer. Tell the nephew of the English merchant that we must be paid one hundred and fifty Spanish dollars for each of you."
Jim made the communication to Harry; who at once consented that this sum should be paid.
"What is the name of his uncle?" asked one of the Arabs. "Let the young man tell us."
"They wish to know the name of your uncle," said Jim, turning to Harry. "The name I told you yesterday. You must try and remember it; for I must not be heard repeating it to you."
"For God's sake buy us!" exclaimed Harry.
The Arabs looked at each other with an expression that seemed to say, "It's all right!"
"Now," said one of the party, "I must tell you what will be the penalty, if we be deceived. If we take you to Mogador, and find that there is no one there to redeem you, if the young man, who says he has an uncle, be not telling the truth, then we shall cut his throat, and bring the rest of you back to the desert, to be sold into perpetual slavery. Tell him that."
"They are going to buy us," said Jim to Harry Blount; "but if we are not redeemed in Mogador, you are to have your throat cut for deceiving them."
"All right!" said Harry, smiling at the threat, "that will be better than living any longer a slave in the Saära."
"Now look at the Krooman"; suggested Sailor Bill, "and say something about him."
Harry taking the hint, turned towards the African.
"I hope," said he, "that they will purchase the poor fellow; and that we may get him redeemed. After the many services he has rendered us, I should not like to leave him behind."
"He consents that you may kill the Krooman, if we are not ransomed"; said Jim, speaking to the Arab merchants, "but he does not like to promise more than one hundred dollars for a negro. His uncle might refuse to pay more."
For some minutes the Arabs conversed with each other in a low tone; and then one of them replied, "It is well. We will take one hundred dollars for the negro. And now get ready for the road. We shall start with you to-morrow morning by daybreak."
The merchants then went off to complete their bargain with the old sheik, and make other arrangements for their departure.
For a few minutes the white slaves kept uttering exclamations of delight at the prospect of being once more restored to liberty. Jim then gave them a translation of what he had said about the Krooman.
"I know the Arab character so well," said he, "that I did not wish to agree to all their terms without a little haggling, which prevents them from entertaining the suspicion that we are trying to deceive them. Besides, as the Krooman is not an English subject, there may be great difficulty in getting him redeemed; and we should therefore bargain for him as cheaply as possible."
Not long after the Arab merchants had taken their departure from the pen, a supply of food and drink was served out to them: which, from its copiousness, proved that it was provided at the expense of their new owners.
This beginning augured well for their future treatment; and that night was spent by the Boy Slaves in a state of contentment and repose, greater than they had experienced since first setting foot on the inhospitable shores of the Saära.
Early next morning our adventurers were awakened and ordered to prepare for the road.
The Arab merchants had purchased from their late hosts three donkeys, upon which the white slaves were allowed to ride in turns. Harry Blount, however, was distinguished from the rest. As the nephew of the rich merchant, "For God's sake buy us!" he was deemed worthy of higher favor, and was permitted to have a camel.
In vain he protested against being thuselevatedabove his companions. The Arabs did not heed his remonstrances, and at a few words from Jim he discontinued them.
"They think that we are to be released from slavery by the money of your relative," said Jim, "and you must do nothing to undeceive them. Not to humor them might awaken their suspicions. Besides, as you are the responsible person of the party,—the one whose throat is to be cut if the money be not found,—you are entitled to a little distinction, as a compensation for extra anxiety."
The Krooman, who had joined the slaves in cutting the grain, was in the field at work when the merchants moved off, and was not present to bid farewell to his more fortunate countryman.
After travelling about twelve miles through a fertile country, much of which was in cultivation, the Arab merchants arrived at a large reservoir of water, where they encamped for the night.
The water was in a stone tank, placed so as to catch all the rain that fell in a long narrow valley, gradually descending from some hills to the northward.
Jim had visited the place before, and told his companions that the tank had been constructed by a man whose memory was much respected, and who had died nearly a hundred years ago.
During the night the Krooman, who had been left behind, entered the encampment, confident in the belief that he had escaped from his taskmasters.
At sunset he had contrived to conceal himself among the barley sheaves until his masters were out of sight, when he had started off on the track taken by the Arab merchants.
He was not allowed long indulgence in his dream of liberty. On the following morning, as the kafila was about to continue its journey, three men were seen approaching on swift camels; and shortly after Rais Abdallah Yessed, and two of his followers rode up.
They were in pursuit of the runaway Krooman, and in great rage at the trouble which he had caused them. So anxious were the Boy Slaves that the poor fellow should continue along with them, that, for their sake, the Arab merchants made a strenuous effort to purchase him; but Rais Abdallah obstinately refused to sell him at anything like a reasonable price. The Krooman had given proof that he could be very useful in the harvest-field; and a sum much greater than had been paid for any of the others, was demanded for him. He was worth more to his present owners than what the Arab merchants could afford to give; and was therefore dragged back to the servitude from which he had hoped to escape.
"You can see now, that I was right," said Jim. "Had we consented to cut their harvest, we should never have had an opportunity of regaining our liberty. Our labor for a single year would have been worth as much to them as the price they received for us, and we should have been held in perpetual bondage."
Jim's companions could perceive the truth of this observation, but not without being conscious that their good fortune was, on their part, wholly undeserved, and that had it not been for him, they would have yielded to the wishes of their late masters.
After another march, the merchants made halt near some wells, around which a large Arab encampment was found already established,—the flocks and herds wandering over the adjacent plain. Here our adventurers had an opportunity of observing some of the manners and customs of this nomadic people.
Here, for the first time, they witnessed the Arab method of making butter.
A goat's skin, nearly filled with the milk of camels, asses, sheep, and goats, all mixed together, was suspended to the ridge pole of a tent, and then swung to and fro by a child, until the butter was produced. The milk was then poured off, and the butter clawed out of the skin by the black dirty fingers of the women.
The Arabs allege that they were the first people who discovered the art of making butter,—though the discovery does not entitle them to any great credit, since they could scarce have avoided making it. The necessity of carrying milk in these skin bags, on a journey, must have conducted them to the discovery. The agitation of the fluid, while being transported on the backs of the camels, producing the result, naturally suggested the idea of bringing it about by similar means when they were not travelling.
At this place the slaves were treated to some barley-cakes, and were allowed a little of the butter; and this, notwithstanding the filthy mode in which it had been prepared, appeared to them the most delicious they had ever tasted.
During the evening, the three merchants, along with several other Arabs, seated themselves in a circle; when a pipe was lit and passed round from one to another. Each would take a long draw, and then hand the pipe to his left-hand neighbor.
While thus occupied, they kept up an animated conversation, in which the word "Swearah" was often pronounced. Swearah of course meant "Mogador."
"They are talking about us," said Jim, "and we must learn for what purpose. I am afraid there is something wrong. Krooman!" he continued, addressing himself to the black, "they don't know that you understand their language. Lie down near them, and pretend to be asleep; but take note of every word they say. If I go up to them they will drive me away."
The Krooman did as desired; and carelessly sauntering near the circle, appeared to be searching for a soft place on which to lay himself for the night.
This he discovered some seven or eight paces from the spot where the Arabs were seated.
"I have been disappointed about obtaining my freedom so many times," muttered Jim, "that I can scarce believe I shall ever succeed. Those fellows are talking about Mogador; and I don't like their looks. Hark! what is that about 'more than you can get in Swearah!' I believe these new Arabs are making an offer to buy us. If so, may their prophets curse them!"
The conversation amongst the Arabs was kept up until a late hour; and during the time it continued, our adventurers were impatiently awaiting the return of the Krooman.
He came at length, after the Arabs had retired to their tents; and all gathered around him, eager to learn what he had heard.
"I find out too much," said he, in answer to their inquiries; "too much, and no much good."
"What was it?"
"Two of you be sold to-morrow."
"What two?"
"No one know. One man examine us all in the morning, but take only two."
After suffering a long lesson teaching the virtue of patience, they learnt from the Krooman that one of those who had been conversing with their masters was a grazier, owning large droves of cattle; and that he had lately been to Swearah.
He had told the merchants that they would not be able to get a large price for their slaves in that place; and that the chances were much against their making more than the actual expenses incurred in so long a journey. He assured the Arab merchants that no Christian consul or foreign merchant in Mogador would pay a dollar more for redeeming six slaves than what they could be made to pay for two or three; that they were not always willing or prepared to pay anything; and that whenever they did redeem a slave, they did not consider his value, but only the time and expense that had been incurred in bringing him to the place.
Under the influence of these representations, the Arab merchants had agreed to sell two of their white slaves to the grazier,—thinking they would get as much for the remaining four as they would by taking all six to the end of the journey.
The owner of the herds was to make his choice in the morning.
"I thought there was a breaker ahead," exclaimed Jim, after the Krooman had concluded his report. "We must not be separated except by liberty or death. Our masters must take us all to Mogador. There is trouble before us yet; but we must be firm, and overcome it. Firmness has saved us once, and may do so again."
After all had promised to be guided in the coming emergency by Jim, they laid themselves along the ground, and sought rest in sleep.
Next morning, while they were eating their breakfast, they were visited by the grazier who was expected to make choice of two of their number.
"Which is the one who speaks Arabic?" he inquired from one of the merchants.
Jim was pointed out, and was at once selected as one of the two to be purchased.
"Tell 'im to buy me, too, Jim," said Bill, "We'll sail in company, you and I, though I don't much like partin' with the young gentlemen here."
"You shall not part either with them or me, if I can help it," answered Jim; "but we must expect some torture. Let all bear it like devils; and don't give in. That's our only chance!"
Glancing his eyes over the other slaves, the grazier selected Terence as the second for whom he was willing to pay a price.
His terms having been accepted by the merchants, they were about concluding the bargain, when they were accosted by Jim.
He assured them that he and his companions were determined to die, before they should be separated,—that none of them would do any work if retained in slavery,—and that all were determined to be taken to Swearah.
The merchants and the buyer only smiled at this interruption; and went on with the negotiation.
In vain did Jim appeal to their cupidity,—reminding them that the merchant, "for God's sake bias," would pay a far higher price for himself and his companions.
His arguments and entreaties failed to change their determination,—the bargain was concluded; and Jim and Terence were made over to their new master.
The merchants then mounted their camels, and ordered the other four to follow them.
Harry Blount, Colin, and Sailor Bill answered this command by sulkily sitting down upon the sand.
Another command from the merchants was given in sharp tones that betrayed their rising wrath.
"Obey them!" exclaimed Jim. "Go on; and Master Terence and I will follow you. We'll stand the brunt of the battle. They shall not hold me here alive!"
Colin and Bill each mounted a donkey, and Harry his camel—the Arab merchants seeming quite satisfied at the result of their slight exhibition of anger.
Jim and Terence attempted to follow them; but their new master was prepared for this; and, at a word of command, several of his followers seized hold of and fast bound both of them.
Jim's threat that they should not hold him alive, had thus proved but an idle boast.
Harry, Colin, and Bill, now turned back, dismounted, and showed their determination to remain with their companions, by sitting down alongside of them.
"These Christian dogs do not wish for liberty!" exclaimed one of the merchants. "Allah forbid that we should force them to accept it. Who will buy them?"
These words completely upset all Jim's plans. He saw that he was depriving the others of the only opportunity they might ever have of obtaining their liberty.
"Go on, go on!" he exclaimed. "Make no further resistance. It is possible they may take you to Mogador. Do not throw away the chance."
"We are not goin' to lave you, Jim," said Bill, "not even for liberty,—leastways, I'm not. Don't you be afeerd of that!"
"Of course we will not, unless we are forced to do so," added Harry. "Have you not said that we must keep together?"
"Have you not all promised to be guided by me?" replied Jim. "I tell you now to make no more resistance. Go on with them if you wish ever to be free!"
"Jim knows what he is about," interposed Colin; "let us obey him."
With some reluctance, Harry and Bill were induced to mount again; but just as they were moving away, they were recalled by Jim, who told them not to leave; and that all must persevere in the determination not to be separated.
"The man has certainly gone mad," reflected Harry Blount, as he turned back once more. "We must no longer be controlled by him; but Terence must not be left behind. We cannot forsakehim."
Again the three dismounted, and returning to the spot where Jim and Terence lay fast bound along the sand, sat determinedly down beside them.
The sudden change of purpose and the counter-orders given by Jim were caused by something he had just heard while listening to the conversation of the Arabs.
Seeing that the merchants, rather than have any unnecessary trouble with them, were disposed to sell them all, Jim had been unwilling to deprive his brother and the others of an opportunity of obtaining their freedom. For this reason had he entreated them to leave Terence and himself to their fate.
But just as he had prevailed on Harry and his companion to go quietly, he learnt from the Arabs that the man who had purchased Terence and himself refused to have any more of them; and also that the other Arabs present were either unable or unwilling to buy them.
The merchants, therefore, would have to take them farther before they could dispose of them.
In Jim's mind then revived the hope that, by opposing the wishes of his late masters, he and Terence might be bought back again and taken on to Mogador.
It was this hope that had induced him to recall his companions after urging them to depart.
A few words explained his apparently strange conduct to Harry and Colin, and they promised to resist every attempt made to take them any farther unless all should go in company.
The merchants in vain commanded and entreated that the Christian dogs should move on. They used threats, and then resorted to blows.
Harry, to whom they had hitherto shown much respect, was beaten until his scanty garments were saturated with blood.
Unwilling to see others suffering so much torture unsupported by any selfish desire, Jim again counselled Harry and the others to yield obedience to their masters.
In this counsel he was warmly seconded by Terence.
But Harry declared his determination not to desert his old shipmate Colin, and Bill remained equally firm under the torture; while the Krooman, knowing that his only chance of liberty depended on remaining true to the white slaves, and keeping in their company, could not be made to yield.
Perceiving that all his entreaties—addressed to his brother, Harry, and Colin—could not put an end to the painful scene he was compelled to witness, Jim strove to effect some purpose by making an appeal to his late masters.
"Buy us back, and take us all to Swearah as you promised," said he. "If you do so, we will go cheerfully as we were doing before. I tell you, you will be well paid for your trouble."
One of the merchants, placing some confidence in the truth of this representation, now offered to buy Jim and Terence on his own account; but their new master refused to part with his newly-acquired property.
A crowd of men, women, and children had now gathered around the spot; and from all sides were heard shouts of "Kill the obstinate Christian 'dogs.' How dare they resist the will of true believers!"
This advice was given by those who had no pecuniary interest in the chattels in question; but the merchants, who had invested a large sum in the purchase of the white slaves, had no idea of making such a sacrifice for the gratification of a mere passion.
There was but one way for them to overcome the difficulty that had so unexpectedly presented itself. This was to separate the slaves by force, taking the four along with them; and leaving the other two to the purchaser who would not revoke his bargain.
To accomplish this, the assistance of the bystanders was required and readily obtained.
Harry was first seized and placed on the back of his camel, to which he was firmly bound.
Colin, Bill, and the Krooman were each set astride of a donkey, and then made fast by having their feet tied under the animal's belly.
For a small sum the merchants then engaged two of the Arabs to accompany them and guard the white slaves to the frontier of the Moorish empire, a distance of two days' journey.
While the party was about to move away from the spot, one of the merchants, addressing himself to Jim, made the following observations.
"Tell the young man, the nephew of the merchant, 'For God's sake bias,' that since we have started for Swearah in the belief that his story is true, we shall now take him there whether he is willing or not, and if he has in anyway deceived us, he shall surely die."
"He has not deceived you," said Jim, "take him and the others there, and you will certainly be paid."
"Then why do they not go willingly?"
"Because they do not wish to leave their friends."
"Ungrateful dogs! cannot they be thankful for their own good fortune? Do they take us for slaves, that we should do their will?"
While the conversation was going on, the other two merchants had headed their animals to the road; and in a minute after Harry Blount and Colin had parted with their old messmate Terence, without a hope of ever meeting him again.
And now away for the Moorish frontier.
Away,—trusting that the last hasty promise of the merchant to test their earnest story, and yield to the importunate desires which they had so long cherished, might not be unfulfilled.
Away,—out into the desert again; into that broad, barren wilderness of sand, stretching wearily on as far as eye could reach, and beyond the utmost limit of human steps, where the wild beasts almost fear to tread.
Away,—under the glare of the tropic sun, whose torrid beams fall from heavens that glow like hot walls of brass, and beat down through an atmosphere whose faint undulations in the breath of the desert wind ebb and flow over the parched travellers, like waves of a fiery sea; under a sun that seems to grow ever larger and brighter as the tired eyes, sick with beholding its yellow splendor overflowing all the world, yet turn toward it their fascinated gaze, and faint into burning dryness at its sight.
Away,—from the coolness of city walls, and the dark shadows of narrow, high-built streets, where the sunlight comes only at the height of noon, where men hide within doors as the hot hours draw nigh, and rest in silent chambers, or drowse away the time withtchibouqueornarghileh, whose softened odor of the rich Eastern tobacco floats up through perfumed waters and tubes of aromatic woods to leisurely lips, and curls in dim wreaths before restful eyelids half dropping to repose.
Away,—from the association of men in street, lane, bazaar, and market-place. No very profitable or happy association for the poor captives, one might think; and yet not so. For in every group of bystanders, or bevy of passers, they perchance might see him who should prove their angel of deliverance,—a kindly merchant, a new speculator, or even, by some event of gracious fortune, a countryman or a friend.
Away,—from all that they had borne and hoped, and borne and seen and suffered, into the desert whose paths lay invisible to them, mapped out in the keen intellects of their guides and guards, who read the streaming sand of Saära as sailors read the wilds of sweeping seas, but whose dusky faces, as inscrutable as the barren wastes, revealed no trace of the secret of the path they led,—whether indeed the great Moorish Empire were their destination, or whether they turned their steps to some unknown and untried goal.
Away,—from the hum of business, from the gossip of idlers and the staid speech of a city into the silence of the vast desolation wherein they moved, the only reasoning, thinking beings it contained. Silence all around, unbroken save by the smothered tread of the beasts in their little train, the shouts of the drivers, the chattering of the attendants, the rattling of harness and burdens, and the soft sough of the sand as it sank back into the hot level from which the passing hoofs had disturbed it.
Away, away,—and who shall attempt to paint the feelings of the captives as their wanderings began again? It would need a brilliant pen to convey the sensations with which thevoyageur, eager for scenes of adventure and fresh from the hived-up haunts of civilization, would enter upon a desert jaunt, to whom all was full of novelty and interest, whose companions were subjects for curious study, speaking in accents the unfamiliar Oriental cadence of which fell pleasantly upon his ear, and who found in every hour some fresh cause for wonder or pleasure. But a pen of marvellous power and pathos must be invoked to portray the mingled emotions that swayed in swift succession the minds of our Boy Slaves! No charm existed for them in the strangeness of desert scenery, Arab comradeship, and the murmur of Eastern tongues; they had long passed the time for that, while their bitter familiarity with all these made even a deep revulsion of feeling in their sorely tried souls. Hope, fear, doubt, fatigue, anxious yearning, and vague despair,—all in turn swept through their thoughts, even as the dust of their pitiless pathway swept over their scorched faces, and covered with effacing monotony every vestige of their passage. Mine is no such potent pen, and so let us leave them, bound to their beasts of burden, going down from the abodes of men into the depths again; and so let us leave them, journeying ever onward,—away, away!
For the first hour of their journey, Harry, Colin, and Sailor Bill, were borne along fast bound upon the backs of their animals. So disagreeable did they find this mode of locomotion, that the Krooman was requested to inform their masters, that they were willing to accompany them without further opposition, if allowed the freedom of their limbs, this was the first occasion on which the Krooman had made known to the Arab merchants that he could speak their language.
After receiving a few curses and blows for having so long concealed his knowledge of it, the slaves were unbound, and the animals they bestrode were driven along in advance of the others, while the two hired guards were ordered to keep a short watch over them.
The journey was continued until a late hour of the night; when they reached the gate of a high wall enclosing a small town.
Here a long parley ensued, and at first the party seemed likely to be turned back upon their steps to pass the night in the desert, but at last the guardians of the village, being satisfied with the representations of the Arabs, unbarred the portals and let them enter.
After the slaves had been conducted inside, and the gate fastened behind them, their masters, relieved of all anxiety about losing their property, accepted the hospitality of the sheik of the village, and took their departure for his house, directing only that the white slaves should be fed.
After the latter had eaten a hearty meal, consisting of barley-bread and milk; they were conducted to a pen, which they were told was to be their sleeping-place, and there they passed the greater part of the night in fighting fleas.
Never before had either of them encountered these insects, either so large in size or of so keen appetites.
It was but at the hour at which their journey should have been resumed, that they forgot their hopes and cares in the repose of sleep. Weary in body and soul, they slept on till a late hour; and when aroused to consciousness by an Arab bringing some food, they were surprised to see that the sun was high up in the heavens.
Why had they not been awakened before?
Why this delay?
In the mind of each was an instinctive fear that there must be something wrong,—that some other obstacle had arisen, blocking up their road to freedom. Hours passed, and their masters came not near them.
They remained in much anxiety, vainly endeavoring to surmise what had caused the interruption to their journey.
Knowing that the merchants had expressed an intention to conduct them to Mogador as soon as possible, they could not doubt but what the delay arose from some cause affecting their own welfare.
Late in the afternoon they were visited by their masters; and in that interview their worst fears were more than realized.
By the aid of the Krooman, one of the merchants informed Harry that they had been deceived,—that the sheik, of whose hospitality they had been partaking, had often visited Swearah, and was acquainted with all the foreign residents there. He had told them that there was no one of the name "For God sake byas."
He had assured them that they were being imposed upon; and that by taking the white slaves to Swearah, they would certainly lose them.
"We shall not kill you," said one of the masters to Harry, "for we have not had the trouble of carrying you the whole distance; and besides, we should be injuring ourselves. We shall take you all to the borders of the desert, and there sell you for what you will fetch."
Harry told the Krooman to inform his masters that he had freely pledged his existence on the truth of the story he had told them; that he certainly had an uncle and friend in Mogador, who would redeem them all; but that, should his uncle not be in Swearah at the time they should arrive there, it would make no difference, as they would certainly be ransomed by the English Consul. "Tell them," added Harry, "that if they will take us to Swearah, and we are not ransomed as I promised, they shall be welcome to take my life. I will then willingly die. Tell them not to sell us until they have proved my words false; and not to injure themselves and us by trusting too much to the words of another."
To this communication the merchants made reply:—That they had been told that slaves brought from the desert into the Empire of Morocco could, and sometimes did, claim the protection of the government, which set them free without paying anything; and those who were at the expense of bringing them obtained nothing for their trouble.
One of the merchants, whose name was Bo Musem, seemed inclined to listen with some favor to the representations of Harry; but he was overruled by the other two, so that all his assertions about the wealth of his parents at home, and the immense worth he and his comrades were to this country, as officers in its navy, failed to convince his masters that they would be redeemed.
The merchants at length went away, leaving Harry and Colin in an agony of despair; while Sailor Bill and the Krooman seemed wholly indifferent as to their future fate. The prospect of being again taken to the desert, seemed to have so benumbed the intellect of both, as to leave them incapable of emotion.
Hope, fear, and energy seemed to have forsaken the old sailor, who, usually so fond of thinking aloud, had not now sufficient spirit left, even for the anathematizing of his enemies.
Late in the evening of the second night spent within the walls of the town, two travellers knocked at the gate for admittance.
One of them gave a name which created quite a commotion in the village, all seeming eager to receive the owner with some show of hospitality.
The merchants sat up to a late hour in company with these strangers and the sheik of the place. Kids were caught and killed, and a savory stew was soon served up for their guests, while, with coffee, pipes, and many customary civilities, the time slipped quickly by.
Notwithstanding this, they were astir upon the following morning before daybreak, busied in making preparations for their journey.
The slaves, on being allowed some breakfast, were commanded to eat it in all haste, and then assist in preparing the animals for the road.
They were also informed that they were to be taken south, and sold.
"Shall we go, or die?" asked Colin. "I, for one, had rather die than again pass through the hardships of a journey in the desert."
Neither of the others made any reply to this. The spirit of despair had taken too strong a hold upon them.
The merchants themselves were obliged to caparison their animals; and just as they were about to use some strong arguments to induce their refractory slaves to mount, they were told that "El Hajji" ("the pilgrim") wished to see the Christians.
Soon after, one of the strangers who had entered the town so late on the night before was seen slowly approaching.
He was a tall, venerable-looking Arab, with a long white beard reaching down to the middle of his breast. His costume, by its neatness and the general costliness of the articles of which it was composed, bespoke him a man of the better class, and his bearing was nowise inferior to his guise.
Having performed the pilgrimage to the Prophet's Tomb, he commanded the respect and hospitality of all good Mussulmans whithersoever he wandered.
With the Krooman as interpreter, he asked many questions, and seemed to be much interested in the fate of the miserable-looking objects before him.
After his curiosity had been satisfied as to the name of the vessel in which they had reached the country, the time they had passed in slavery, and the manner of their treatment which had produced their emaciated and wretched appearance, he made inquiries about their friends and relatives at home.
Harry informed him that Colin and himself had parents, brothers, and sisters, who were now probably mourning them as lost: that they and their two companions were sure to be ransomed, could they find some one who would take them to Mogador. He also added, that their present masters had promised to take them to that place, but were now prevented from doing so through the fear that they would not be rewarded for their trouble.
"I will do all I can to assist you," said El Hajji, after the Krooman had given the interpretation of Harry's speech. "I owe a debt of gratitude to one of your countrymen, and I shall try to repay it. When in Cairo I was unwell, and starving for the want of food. An officer of an English ship of war gave me a coin of gold. That piece of money proved both life and fortune to me; for with it I was able to continue my journey, and reach my friends. We are all the children of the true God; and it is our duty to assist one another. I will have a talk with your masters."
The old pilgrim then turning to the three merchants, said,—
"My friends, you have promised to take these Christian slaves to Swearah, where they will be redeemed. Are you bad men who fear not God, that your promise should be thus broken?"
"We think they have deceived us," answered one of the merchants, "and we are afraid to carry them within the emperor's dominions for fear they will be taken from us without our receiving anything. We are poor men, and nearly all our merchandise we have given for these slaves. We cannot afford to lose them."
"You will not lose the value of them," said the old man, "if you take them to Swearah. They belong to a country the government of which will not allow its subjects to remain in bondage; and there is not an English merchant in Swearah that would not redeem them. A merchant who should refuse to do so would scarce dare return to his own country again. You will make more by taking them to Swearah than anywhere else."
"But they can give themselves up to the governor when they reach Swearah," urged one of the merchants, "and we may be ordered out of the country without receiving a single cowrie for all. Such has been done before. The good sheik here knows of an Arab merchant who was treated so. He lost all, while the governor got the ransom, and put it in his own pocket."
This was an argument El Hajji was unable to answer but he was not long in finding a plan for removing the difficulty thus presented.
"Do not take them within the Empire of Morocco," said he, "until after you have been paid for them. Two of you can stay with them here, while the other goes to Swearah with a letter from this young man to his friends. You have as yet no proof that he is trying to deceive you; and therefore, as true men, have no excuse for breaking your promise to him. Take a letter to Swearah; and if the money be not paid, then do with them as you please, and the wrong will not rest upon you."
Bo Muzem, one of the merchants, immediately seconded the pilgrim's proposal, and spoke energetically in its favor.
He said that they were but one day's journey from Agadeez, a frontier town of Morocco; and that from there Swearah could be reached in three days.
The merchants for a few minutes held consultation apart, and then one of them announced that they had resolved upon following El Hajji's advice. Bo Muzem should go to Swearah as the bearer of a letter from Harry to his uncle.
"Tell the young man," said one of the merchants, addressing himself to the interpreter, "tell him, from me, that if the ransom be not paid, he shall surely die on Bo Muzem's return. Tell him that."
The Krooman made the communication, and Harry accepted the terms.
A piece of dirty crumpled paper, a reed, and some ink was then placed before Harry; and while the letter was being written, Bo Muzem commenced making preparations for his journey.
Knowing that their only hope of liberty depended on their situation being made known to some countrymen resident in Mogador, Harry took up the pen, and, with much difficulty, succeeded in scribbling the following letter:—
"Sir,—Two midshipmen of H. M. S. —— (lost a few weeks ago north of Cape Blanco), and two seamen are now held in slavery at a small town one day's journey from Santa Cruz. The bearer of this note is one of our masters. His business in Mogador is to learn if we will be ransomed and if he is unsuccessful in finding any one who will pay the money to redeem us, the writer of this note is to be killed. If you cannot or will not pay the money they require (one hundred and fifty dollars for each slave), direct the bearer to some one whom you think will do so."There is a midshipman from the same vessel, and another English sailor one day's journey south of this place."Perhaps the bearer of this note, Bo Muzem, may be induced to obtain them, so that they also may be ransomed."Henry Blount."
"Sir,—Two midshipmen of H. M. S. —— (lost a few weeks ago north of Cape Blanco), and two seamen are now held in slavery at a small town one day's journey from Santa Cruz. The bearer of this note is one of our masters. His business in Mogador is to learn if we will be ransomed and if he is unsuccessful in finding any one who will pay the money to redeem us, the writer of this note is to be killed. If you cannot or will not pay the money they require (one hundred and fifty dollars for each slave), direct the bearer to some one whom you think will do so.
"There is a midshipman from the same vessel, and another English sailor one day's journey south of this place.
"Perhaps the bearer of this note, Bo Muzem, may be induced to obtain them, so that they also may be ransomed.
"Henry Blount."
This letter Harry folded, and directed to "Any English merchant in Mogador."
By the time it was written, Bo Muzem was mounted, and ready for the road.
After receiving the letter, he wished Harry to be informed once more, that, should the journey to Swearah be fruitless, nothing but his (Harry's) life would compensate him for the disappointment.
After promising to be back in eight days, and enjoining upon his partners to look well after their property during his absence, Bo Muzem took his departure from the town.
Although an Arab merchant, Bo Muzem was an honest man,—one who in all business transactions told the truth, and expected to hear it from others.
He pursued his journey towards Mogador with but a faint hope that the representations made by Harry Blount would prove true, and with the determination of taking the life of the latter, should he find himself deceived. He placed more faith in the story told him by the sheik, than in the mere supposition of the pilgrim, that the white slaves would find some one to ransom them. For often,—alas too often!—the hopes which captives have dwelt on for tedious months, until they have believed them true, have proved, when put to the test, but empty and fallacious dreams.
His journey was partly undertaken through a sense of duty. After the promise made to the slaves, he thought it but right to become fully convinced that they would not be redeemed before the idea of taking them to Mogador should be relinquished.
He pressed forward on his journey with the perseverance and self-denial so peculiar to the race. After crossing the spurs of the Atlas Mountain near Santa Cruz, he reached, on the evening of the third day, a small walled town, within three hours ride of Mogador.
Here he stopped for the night, intending to proceed to the city early on the next morning. Immediately after entering the town, Bo Muzem met a person whose face wore a familiar look.
It was the man to whom but a few days before, he had sold Terence and Jim.
"Ah! my friend, you have ruined me," exclaimed the Arab grazier, after their first salutations had passed. "I have lost those two useless Christian dogs you sold me, and I am ruined."
Bo Muzem asked him to explain.
"After your departure," said the grazier, "I tried to get some work out of the infidels; but they would not obey, and I believe they would have died before doing anything to make themselves useful. As I am a poor man, I could not afford to keep them in idleness, nor to kill them, which I had a strong inclination to do. The day after you left me, I received intelligence from Swearah which commanded me to go there immediately on business of importance; and thinking that possibly some Christian fool in that place might give something for their infidel countrymen, I took the slaves along with me.
"They promised that if I would take them to the English Consul, he would pay a large price for their ransom. When we entered Mogador, and reached the Consul's house, the dogs told me that they were free, and defied me trying to take them out of the city, or obtaining anything for my trouble or expense. The governor of Swearah and the Emperor of Morocco are on good terms with the infidel's government, and they also hate us Arabs of the desert. There is no justice there for us. If you take your slaves into the city you will lose them."
"I shall not take them into the empire of Morocco," said Bo Muzem, "until I have first received the money for them."
"You will never get it in Swearah. Their consul will not pay a dollar, but will try to get them liberated without giving you anything."
"But I have a letter from one of my slaves to his uncle,—a nut merchant in Swearah. The uncle must pay the money."
"The slave has lied to you. He has no uncle there, and I can soon convince you that such is the case. There is lying in this place a Mogador Jew, who is acquainted with every infidel merchant in that place, and he also understands the languages they speak. Let him see the letter."
Anxious to be convinced as to whether he was being deceived or not, Bo Muzem readily agreed to this proposition; and in company with the graziers, he repaired to the house where the Jew was staying for the night.
The Jew, on being shown the letter, and asked to whom it was addressed, replied,—
"To any English merchant in Mogador."
"Bismillah!" exclaimed Bo Muzem. "All English merchants cannot be uncles to the young dog who wrote this letter."
"Tell me," added he, "did you ever hear of an English merchant in Swearah named 'For God sake byas?'"
The Jew smiled, and with some difficulty restraining an inclination to laugh outright at the question, gave the Arab a translation of the words, "For God's sake buy us."
Bo Muzem was now satisfied that he had been "sold."
"I shall go no farther," said he, after they had parted with the Jew. "I shall return to my partners. We will kill the Christian dog who wrote the letter, and sell the rest for what we can get for them."
"That is your best plan," rejoined the grazier. "They do not deserve freedom, and may Allah forbid that hereafter any true believers should try to help them to it."
Early the next morning Bo Muzem set out on his return journey, thankful for the good fortune that had enabled him so early to detect the imposture that was being practised upon him.
He was accompanied by the grazier, who chanced to be journeying in the same direction.
"The next Christian slaves I see for sale I intend to buy them," remarked the latter, as they journeyed along.
"Bismallah!" exclaimed Bo Muzem, "that is strange. I thought you had had enough of them?"
"So I have," answered the grazier; "but that's just why I want more of them. I want revenge on the unbelieving dogs; and will buy them for the purpose of obtaining it. I work them until they are too old to do anything and then let them die of hunger."
"Then buy those we have for sale," proposed Bo Muzem. "We are willing to sell them cheap, all but one. The one who wrote this letter I shall kill. I have sworn it by the prophet's beard."
As both parties appeared anxious for a bargain, they soon came to an understanding as to the terms; and the grazier promised to give ten dollars in money, and four head of horses for each of the slaves that were for sale. He also agreed that one of his herdsmen should assist in driving the cattle to any Arab settlement where a market might be found for them.
The simple Bo Muzem had now in reality been "sold," for the story he had been told about the escape of the two slaves, Terence and Jim, was wholly and entirely false.
Six days passed, during which the white slaves were comparatively well treated, far better than at any other time since their shipwreck. They were not allowed to suffer with thirst, and were supplied with nearly as much food as they required.
On the sixth day after the departure of Bo Muzem, they were visited by their masters, accompanied by a stranger, who was a Moor.
They were commanded to get upon their feet; and were then examined by the Moor in a manner that awakened suspicion that he was about to buy them.
The Moor wore a caftan richly embroidered on the breast and sleeves; and confined around the waist with a silken vest or girdle.
A pair of small yellow Morocco-leather boots were seen beneath trowsers of great width, made of the finest satin, and on his head was worn a turban of scarlet silk.
Judging from the respect shown to him by the merchants, he was an individual of much importance. This was also evident from the number of his followers, all of whom were mounted on beautiful Arabian horses, the trappings of which were made from the finest and most delicately shaded leathers, bestudded beautifully with precious metals and stones.
The appearance of his whole retinue gave evidence that he was some personage of wealth and influence.
After he had examined the slaves, he retired with the two merchants; and shortly afterwards the Krooman learnt from one of the followers that the white slaves had become the property of the wealthy Moor.
The bright anticipations of liberty that had filled their souls for the last few days, vanished at this intelligence. Each felt a shock of pain,—of hopeless despair,—that for some moments stunned them almost to speechlessness.
Harry Blount was the first to awaken to the necessity of action.
"Where are our masters the merchants?" he exclaimed. "They cannot—they shall not sell us. Come, all of you follow me!"
Reaching forth from the pens that had been allowed them for a residence, the young Englishman, followed by his companions, started towards the dwelling of the sheik, to which the merchants and the Moor had retired.
All were now excited with disappointment and despair; and on reaching the sheik's house, the two Arab merchants were called out to witness a scene of anger and grief.
"Why have you sold us?" asked the Krooman when the merchant came forth. "Have you not promised that we should be taken to Swearah, and has not one gone there to obtain the money for our ransom?"
The merchants were on good terms with themselves and all the world besides. They had made what they believed to be a good bargain; and were in a humor for being agreeable.
Moreover they did not wish to be thought guilty of a wrong, even by Christian slaves, and they therefore condescended to give some explanation.
"Suppose," said one of them, "that our master Bo Muzem should find a man in Swearah who is willing to ransom you, how much are we to get for you?"
"One hundred dollars for me," answered the Krooman, "and one hundred and fifty for each of the others."
"True; and for that we should have to take you to Swearah, and be at the expense of feeding you along the road?"
"Yes."
"Well, Rais Mourad, a wealthy Moor, has paid us one hundred and fifty dollars for each of you; and would we not be fools to take you all the way to Swearah for less money? Besides we might never get paid at Swearah,—whereas we have received it in cash from Rais Mourad. You are no longer our slaves, but his."
When the Krooman had made this communication to the others, they saw that all further parley with the Arab merchants was useless; and that their fate was now in the hands of Rais Mourad.
At Harry's request, the Krooman endeavored to ascertain in what direction the Moor was going to take them; but the only information they received was that Rais Mourad knew his own business, and was not in the habit of conferring with his slaves as to what he should do with them.
Some of the followers of the Moor now came forward; and the slaves were ordered back to their pen, where they found some food awaiting them. They were commanded to eat it immediately, as they were soon to set forth upon a long journey.
Not one of them, after their cruel disappointment, had any appetite for eating; and Sailor Bill doggedly declared that he would never taste food again.
"Don't despair, Bill," said Harry; "there is yet hope for us."
"Where?—where is it?" exclaimed Colin; "I can't perceive it."
"If we are constantly changing owners," argued Harry, "we may yet fall into the hands of some one who will take us to Mogador."
"Is that your only hope?" asked Colin, in a tone of disappointment.
"Think of poor Jim," added Bill; "he's 'ad fifty masters,—been ten years in slavery, and not free yet; and no hope on it neyther."
"Shall we go quietly with our new master?" asked Colin.
"Yes," answered Harry; "I have had quite enough of resistance, and the beating that is sure to follow it. My back is raw at this moment. The next time I make any resistance, it shall be when there is a chance of gaining something by it, besides a sound thrashing."
Rais Mourad being unprovided with animals for his slaves to ride upon, and wishing to travel at a greater speed than they could walk, purchased four small horses from the sheik, and it was during the time these horses were being caught and made ready for the road, that the slaves were allowed to eat their dinner.
Although Harry, as well as the others, had determined on making no opposition to going away with Rais Mourad, they were very anxious to learn where he intended to take them.
All the inquiries made by the Krooman for the purpose of gratifying their curiosity, only produced the answer, "God knows, and will not tell you. Why should we do more than Him?"
Just as the horses were brought out, and all were nearly ready for a start, there was heard a commotion at the gate of the town; and next moment Bo Muzem, accompanied by three other Arabs, rode in through the gateway.