Captain Mayne Reid (continued 3)

To avoid this catastrophe, which would have been fatal, they moved shoreward only when it became absolutely necessary to do so, often permitting the tidal waves to sweep completely over the crown of their heads, and several time threaten suffocation.

Under circumstances so trying, so apparently hopeless, most lads—ay, most men—would have submitted to despair, and surrendered themselves to a fate apparently unavoidable. But with that true British pluck, combining the tenacity of the Scotch terrier, the English bulldog, and the Irish stag-hound, the three youthful representatives of the triple kingdom determined to hold on.

And they held on, with the waves washing against their cheeks, and at intervals quite over their heads, with the briny fluid rushing into their ears and up their nostrils, until one after another began to believe that there would be no alternative between surrendering to the cruel sea, or to the not less cruel sons of the Saara.

As they were close together, they could hold council, conversing all the time in something louder than a whisper. There was no risk of their being overheard. Though scarce a cable’s length from the shore, the hoarse soughing of the surf would have drowned the sound of their voices, even if uttered in a much louder tone; but being skilled in the acoustics of the ocean, they exchanged their thoughts with due caution: and while encouraging one another to remain firm, they speculated freely upon the chances of escaping from their perilous predicament.

While thus occupied, a predicament of an equally perilous and still more singular kind, was in store for them. They had been hitherto advancing towards the water’s edge, in regular progression with the influx of the tide, all the while upon their knees. This, as already stated, had enabled them to sustain themselves steadily, without showing anything more than three-quarters of the head above the surface.

All at once, however, the water appeared to deepen; and by going upon their knees they could no longer surmount the waves, even with their eyes. By moving on towards the beach, they might again get into shallower water; but just at this point the commotion caused by the breakers came to a termination, and the flakes of froth, with the surrounding spray of bubbles here bursting, one after another, left the surface of the sea to its restored tranquillity. Anything beyond a cork, or the tiniest waif of seaweed, could scarce fail to be seen from the strand, though the latter was itself, constantly receding as the tide flowed inward.

The submerged middies were now in a dilemma they had not dreamed of. By holding their ground, they could not fail to “go under”. By advancing farther, they would run the risk of being discovered to the enemy.

Their first movement was to get up from their knees, and raise their heads above water by standing in a crouched attitude on their feet. This they had done before, more than once, returning to the posture of supplication only when too tired to sustain themselves.

This they attempted again, and determined to continue it to the last moment, in view of the danger of approaching nearer to the enemy.

To their consternation they now found that it would no longer avail them. Scarce they had risen erect before discovering that, even in his position, they were immersed to the chin, and after plunging a pace or two forward, they were still sinking deeper. They could feel that their feet were not resting on firm bottom; but constantly going down.

“A quicksand!” was the apprehension that rushed simultaneously into the minds of all three.

Fortunately for them, the Arabs, at that moment, yielding to their fatalist fears, had faced away from the shore; else the plunging and splashing made by them in their violent endeavours to escape from the quicksand could not have failed to dissipate these superstitions, and cause their pursuers to complete the capture they had so childishly relinquished.

As it chanced, the Saaran wreckers saw nothing of all this; and as the splashing sounds, which otherwise might have reached them, were drowned by the louder sough of the sea, they returned toward their encampment in a state of perplexity bordering upon bewilderment.

Chapter Thirty One.

Once more the mocking Laugh.

After a good deal of scrambling and struggling, our adventurers succeeded in getting clear of the quicksand, and planting their feet upon firmer bottom, a little nearer to the water’s edge. Though at this point more exposed than they wished to be, they concealed themselves as well as they could, holding their faces under the water up to the eyes.

Though believing that their enemies were gone for good, they dared not as yet wade out upon the beach. The retiring pursuers would naturally be looking back; and as the moon was still shining clearly as ever, they might have been seen from a great distance.

They felt that they would not be safe in leaving their place of concealment until the horde had re-crossed the ridge and descended once more into the oasis that contained their encampment.

Making a rough calculation as to the time it would take for the return journey, and allowing a considerable margin against the eventuality of any unforeseen delay, the mids remained in their subaqueous retreat without any material change of position.

When at length it appeared to them that the coast was clear, they rose to their feet and commenced wading towards the strand.

Though no longer believing themselves observed, they proceeded silently and with caution, the only noise made among them being the chattering of their teeth, which were going like three complete sets of castanets.

This they could not help. The night breeze playing upon the saturated garments, that clung coldly around their bodies, chilled them to the very bones; and not only their teeth, but their knees knocked together, as they staggered towards the beach.

Just before reaching it, an incident arose that filled them with fresh forebodings. The strange beast that had threatened to intercept their retreat over the ridge, once more appeared before their eyes. It was either the same or one of the same kind, equally ugly, and, to all appearance, equally determined to dispute their passage.

It was now patrolling the strand close by the water’s edge; going backwards and forwards, precisely as it had done along the saddle-shaped sand-wreath; all the while keeping its hideous face turned towards them. With the moon behind their backs, they had a better view of it than before; but this, though enabling them to perceive that it was some strange quadruped, did not in any way improve their opinion of it. They could see that it was covered with a coat of long shaggy hair, of a brindled brown colour; and that from a pair of large orbs, set obliquely in its head, gleamed forth a fierce sullen light.

How it had come there they knew not; but there it was. Judging from the experience of their former encounter with it they presumed it would again retreat at their approach; and, once more drawing their dirks, they advanced boldly towards it.

They were not deceived. Long before they were near, the uncouth creature turned tail; and, again giving utterance to its unearthly cry, scampered off towards the ravine, in whose shadowy depths it soon disappeared from their view.

Supposing they had nothing further to fear, our adventures stepped out upon the strand, and commenced consultation as to their future course.

To keep on down the coast and get as far as possible from the Arab encampment was the thought of all three; and as they were unanimous in this, scarce a moment was wasted in coming to a determination. Once resolved, they faced southward; and started off as briskly as their shivering frames and saturated garments would allow them.

There was not much to cheer them on their way, only the thought that they had so adroitly extricated themselves from a dread danger. But even this proved only a fanciful consolation: for scarce had they made a score of steps along the strand, when they were brought to a sudden halt, by hearing a noise that appeared to proceed from the ravine behind them.

It was a slight noise, something like a snort, apparently made by some animal; and for a moment, they supposed it to come from the ugly quadruped that, after saluting them, had retreated up the gorge.

On turning their eyes in that direction, they at once saw that they were mistaken. A quadruped had produced the noise, but one of a very different kind from the hairy brute with which they had parted. Just emerging from the shadow of the sand-hills, they perceived a huge creature, whose uncouth shape proclaimed it to be a camel.

The sight filled them with consternation. Not that it was a camel; but because, at the same time, they discovered that there was a man upon its back, who brandishing a long weapon, was urging the animal towards them.

The three midshipmen made no effort to continue the journey thus unexpectedly interrupted. They saw that any attempt to escape from such a fast-going creature would be idle. Encumbered as they were with their wet garments, they could not have distanced a lame duck; and, resigning themselves to the chances of destiny, they stood awaiting the encounter.

Chapter Thirty Two.

A cunning Sheik.

When the camel and its rider first loomed in sight, indistinctly seen under the shadow of the sand-dunes, our adventurers had conceived a faint hope that it might be Sailor Bill.

It was possible, they thought, that the old man-o’-war’s-man, left unguarded in the camp, might have laid hands on the maherry that had made away with him, and pressed it into service to assist his escape.

The hope was entertained only for a instant. Bill had encountered no such golden opportunity, but was still a prisoner in the tent of the black sheik, surrounded by his shrewish tormentors. It was the maherry, however, that was seen coming back; for as it came near, the three middies recognised the creature whose intrusion upon their slumbers of the preceding night had been the means, perhaps, of saving their lives.

Instead of a Jack Tar now surmounting its high hunch, they saw a little weazen-faced individual, with sharp angular features, and a skin of yellowish hue puckered like parchment. He appeared to be at least sixty years of age; while his costume, equipments, and above all, a certain authoritative bearing, bespoke him to be one of the head men of the horde.

Such in truth was he—one of the two sheiks—the old Arab to whom the straying camel belonged; and who was now mounted on his own maherry.

His presence on the strand at this, to our adventurers, most inopportune moment, requires explanation.

He had been on the beach before, along with the others; and had gone away with the rest. But instead of continuing on to the encampment, he had fallen behind in the ravine; where, under the cover of some rocks, and favoured by the obscure light within the gorge, he had succeeded in giving his comrades the slip. There he had remained, permitting the rest to recross the ridge, and return to the tents.

He had not taken these steps without an object. Less superstitious than his black brother sheik, he knew that there must be some natural explanation of the disappearance of the three castaways; and he determined to seek, and if possible, discover it.

It was not mere curiosity that prompted him to this determination. He had been all out of sorts with himself since losing Sailor Bill in the game of helga; and he was desirous of obtaining some compensation for his ill luck, by capturing the three castaways who had so mysteriously disappeared.

As to their having either drowned themselves, or walked away over the waste of waters, the old sheik had seen too many Saaran summers and winters to give credence either to one tale or the other. He knew they would turn up again; and though he was not quite certain of the where, he more than half suspected it. He had kept his suspicions to himself, not imparting them even to his own special followers. By the laws of the Saara, a slave taken by any one of the tribe belongs not to its chief but to the individual who makes the capture. For this reason had the cunning sexagenarian kept his thoughts to himself, and fallen solus into the rear of the returning horde.

It might be supposed that he would have made some of his following privy to his plan, for the sake of having help to effect such a wholesale capture. But no. His experience as a “Barbary wrecker” had taught him that there would be no danger, no likelihood of resistance, even though the castaways numbered thirty instead of three.

Armed with this confidence, and his long gun, he had returned down the ravine; and laid in wait near its mouth, at a point where he commanded a view of the coast line, to the distance of more than a mile on each side of him.

His vigil was soon rewarded by seeing the three individuals for whom it had been kept step forth from the sea, as if emerging from its profoundest depths, and stand conspicuously upon the beach.

He waited for nothing more; but, giving the word to his maherry, had ridden out of the ravine, and was now advancing with all speed upon the tracks of the retreating mids.

Chapter Thirty Three.

A queer Encounter.

In about threescore seconds from the time he was first seen pursuing them, the old sheik was up to the spot where our adventurers had awaited him.

His first salute appeared to be some words of menace or command, rendered more emphatic by a series of gestures made with his long gun; which was successively pointed at the heads of the three. Of course, none of them understood what was said; but his gesticulations made it clear enough that he required their company to the Arab encampment.

Their first impulse was to yield obedience to this command; and Terence had given a sign of assent, which was acquiesced in by Colin. Not so Master Blount, in whom the British bulldog had become aroused even to the showing of his teeth.

“See him hanged first!” cried Harry. “What! yield up to an old monkey like that, and walk tamely to the camp at the tail of his camel? No such thing! If I am to become a prisoner, it will be to one who can take me.”

Terence, rather ashamed at having shown such facile submission, now rushed to the opposite extreme; and drawing his dirk, cried out, “By Saint Petrick! I’m with you, Harry! Let’s die, rather than yield ourselves prisoners to such a queer old curmudgeon!”

Colin, before declaring himself, glanced sharply around, carrying his eye towards the embouchure of the ravine, to assure himself that the Arab was alone.

As there was nobody else in sight, and no sound heard that would indicate the proximity of any one, it was probable enough that the rider of the maherry was the only enemy opposed to them.

“The deil take him!” cried Colin, after making his cautious reconnaissance. “If he take us, he must first fight for it. Come on, old skinflint! you’ll find we’re true British tars, ready for a score such as you!”

The three youths had by this time unsheathed their shining daggers, and thrown themselves into a sort of triangle, the maherry in their midst.

The old sheik, unprepared for such a reception, was altogether taken aback by it; and for some seconds sate upon his high perch seemingly irresolute how to act.

Suddenly his rage appeared to rise to such a pitch that he could no longer command his actions; and bringing the long gun to his shoulder, he levelled it at Harry Blount, who had been foremost in braving him.

The stream of smoke, pouring forth from its muzzle, for a moment enveloped the form of the youthful mariner; but from the midst of that sulphury nimbus came forth a clear manly voice, pronouncing the word “Missed!”

“Thank God!” cried Terence and Colin, in a breath; “now we have him in our power! He can’t load again! Let’s on him altogether! Heave he!”

And uttering this nautical phrase of encouragement, the three mids, with naked dirks, rushed simultaneously towards the maherry.

The Arab, old as he may have been, showed no signs either of stiffness or decrepitude. On the contrary, he exhibited all the agility of a tiger-cat; along with a fierce determination to continue the combat he had initiated, notwithstanding the odds that were against him. On discharging his gun, he had flung the useless weapon to the ground; and instead of it now grasped a long curving scimitar, with which he commenced cutting around him in every direction.

Thus armed, he had the advantage of his assailants; for while he might reach any one of them by a quick cut, they with their short dirks could not come within thrusting distance of him, without imminent danger of having their arms, or perchance their heads, lopped sheer off their shoulders.

Defensively, too, had the rider of the maherry an advantage over his antagonists. While within distance of them, at the point of his curving blade, seated upon his high perch, he was beyond the reach of their weapons. Get close to him as they might, and spring as high as they were able, they could not bring the tips of their daggers in contact with his skin.

In truth, there seemed no chance for them to inflict the slightest wound upon him; while at each fresh wheel of the maherry, and each new sweep of the scimitar, one or other of them was in danger of decapitation.

On first entering upon the fight, our adventurers had not taken into account the impregnable position of their antagonist. Soon, however, did they discover the advantages in his favour, with their own proportionate drawbacks. To neutralise these was the question that now occupied them. If something was not done soon, one or other, perhaps all three, would have to succumb to that keen cutting of the scimitar.

“Let’s kill the camel!” cried Harry Blount, “that’ll bring him within reach; and then—”

The idea of the English youth was by no means a bad one; and perhaps would have been carried out. But before he could finish his speech, another scheme had been conceived by Terence, who had already taken steps towards its execution.

It was this that had interrupted Harry Blount in the utterance of his counsel.

At school the young Milesian had been distinguished in the exercise of vaulting. Leap-frog had been his especial delight; and no mountebank could bound to a greater height than he. At this crisis he remembered his old accomplishment, and called it to his aid.

Seeking an opportunity, when the head of the maherry was turned towards his comrades, and its tail to himself he made an energetic rush; sprang half a score of feet from the ground; and flinging apart his feet, while in the air, came down, stride legs upon the croup of the camel.

It was fortunate for the old Arab that the effort thus made by the amateur saltimbanque had shaken the dirk from his grasp, else, in another instant, the camel would have ceased to “carry double.”

As it was, its two riders continued upon its back; but in such close juxtaposition, that it would have required sharp eyes and a good light to tell that more than one individual was mounted upon it.

Fast enfolded in the arms of the vigorous young Hibernian, could scarce be distinguished the carcase of the old Arab sheik, shrunken to half size by the powerful compression; while the scimitar, so late whistling with perilous impetuosity through the air, was now seen lying upon the sand, its gleam no longer striking terror into the hearts of those whose heads it had been threatening to lop off.

Chapter Thirty Four.

Holding on to the Hump.

The struggle between Terence and the sheik still continued, upon the back of the maherry. The object of the young Irishman was to unhorse, or rather uncamel, his antagonist, and get him to the ground.

This design the old Arab resisted toughly, and with all his strength, knowing that dismounted he would be no match for the trio of stout lads whom he had calculated on capturing at his ease. Once à pied he would be at their mercy, since he was now altogether unarmed. His gun had been unloaded; and the shining scimitar, of which he had made such a dangerous display, was no longer in his grasp. As already stated it had fallen to the ground, and at that precious moment was being picked up by Colin; who in all probability would have used it upon its owner, had not the latter contrived to escape beyond its reach.

The mode of the sheik’s escape was singular enough. Still tenaciously holding on to the hump, from which the young Irishman was using every effort to detach him, he saw that his only chance of safety lay in retreating from the spot, and, by this means, separating the antagonist who clutched him from the two others that threatened upon the ground below.

A signal shout to the maherry was sufficient to effect his purpose. On hearing it the well-trained quadruped wheeled, as upon a pivot, and in a shambling, but quick pace, started back towards the ravine, whence it had late issued.

To their consternation, Colin and Harry beheld this unexpected movement; and before either of them could lay hold of the halter, now trailing along the sand, the maherry was going at a rate of speed which they vainly endeavoured to surpass. They could only follow in its wake, as they did so, shouting to Terence to let go his hold of the sheik, and take his chance of a tumble to the ground.

Their admonitions appeared not to be heeded. They were not needed, at least after a short interval had elapsed.

At first the young Irishman had been so intent on his endeavours to dismount his adversary that he did not notice the signal given to the maherry, nor the retrograde movement it had inaugurated. Not until the camel was re-entering the ravine, and the steep sides of the sand-dunes cast their dark shadows before him, did he observe that he was being carried away from his companions.

Up to this time he had been vainly striving to detach the sheik from his hold upon the hump. On perceiving the danger, however, he desisted from this design, and at once entered upon a struggle of a very different kind, to detach himself.

In all probability this would have proved equally difficult: for struggle as he might, the tough old Arab, no longer troubling himself about the control of his camel, had twisted his sinewy fingers under the midshipman’s dirk-belt, and held the latter in juxtaposition to his own body, supported by the hump of the maherry, as if his very life depended on not letting go.

A lucky circumstance, and this only, hindered the young Irishman from being carried to the Arab encampment: a circumstance very similar to that which on the preceding night had led to the capture of that same camel.

Its halter was again trailing.

Its owner, occupied with the “double” which it had so unexpectedly been called upon to carry, was conducting it only by his voice, and had neither thought nor hands for the halter.

Once again the trailing end got into the split hoof, once again the maherry was tripped up; and came down neck foremost upon the sand.

Its load was spilled, Bedouin and Hibernian coming together to the ground, both, if not dangerously hurt, at least so shaken, as, for some seconds to be deprived of their senses.

Neither had quite recovered from the shock, when Harry Blount and Colin, coming up in close pursuit, stooped over the prostrate pair; and neither Arab nor Irishman was very clear in his comprehension, when a crowd of strange creatures closed around them, and took possession of the whole party; as they did so yelling like a cohort of fiends.

In the obfuscation of his “sivin” senses, the young Irishman may have scarcely understood what was passing around him. It was too clear to his companions, clear as a catastrophe could be, to those who are its victims.

The shot fired by the sheik, if failing in the effect intended, had produced a result almost equally fatal to the three fugitives. It had given warning to the Arabs in their encampment; who, again sallying forth, had arrived just in time to witness the “decadence” of the camel, and now surrounded the group that encircled it.

The courageous representative of England, and the cool young Scotchman, were both taken by surprise, too much so to give them a chance of thinking either of resistance or flight; while the mind of the Irish middy, from a different cause, was equally in a hopeless “muddle.”

It resulted in all three being captured, and conducted up the ravine towards the camp of the wreckers.

Chapter Thirty Five.

Our Adventurers in Undress.

Our adventurers made their approach to the douar, for such is the title of an Arab encampment, with as much unwillingness as Sailor Bill had done. Equally sans cérémonie, or even with less ceremony, did they enter among the tents, and certainly in a less becoming costume: since all three were stark naked, with the exception of their shirts.

This was the only article of clothing their captors had left upon their backs; and so far as comfort was concerned, they would have been as well without it: for there was not a thread of the striped cotton that was not saturated with sea water.

It was a wonder that even these scanty garments were not taken from them; considering the eagerness with which they had been divested of everything else.

On the instant after being laid hold of, they had been stripped with as much rapidity as if their bodies were about to be submitted to some ignominious chastisement. But they knew it was not that, only a desire on the part of their captors to obtain possession of their clothes, every article of which became the subject of a separate contention, and more than one leading to a dispute that was near terminating in a contest between two scimitars.

In this way their jackets and dreadnought trousers, their caps and shoes, their dirks, belts, and pocket paraphernalia, were distributed among nearly as many claimants as there were pieces.

You may suppose that modesty interfered to reserve to them their shirts? Such a supposition would be altogether erroneous. There is no such word in the Bedouin vocabulary, no such feeling in the Bedouin breast.

In the douar to which they were conducted were lads as old as they, and lasses too, without the semblance of clothing upon their nude bodies; not even a shirt, not even the orientally famed fig-leaf!

The reason of their being allowed to retain their homely garments had nothing to do with any sentiment of delicacy. For the favour, if such it could be called, they were simply indebted to the avarice of the old sheik, who, having recovered from the stunning effects of his tumble, claimed all three as his captives, and their shirts along with them.

His claim as to their persons was not disputed; they were his by Saaran custom. So, too, would their clothing, had his capture been complete; but as there was a question about this, a distribution of the garments had been demanded and acceded to.

The sheik, however, would not agree to giving up the shirts; loudly declaring that they belonged to the skin; and after some discussion on this moot point, his claim was allowed; and our adventurers were spared the shame of entering the Arab encampment in puris naturalibus.

In their shirts did they once more stand face to face with Sailor Bill, not a bit better clad than they; for though the old man-o’-war’s-man was still “anchored” by the marquee of the black sheik, his “toggery” had long before been distributed throughout the douar; and scarce a tent but contained some portion of his belongings.

His youthful comrades saw, but were not permitted to approach him. They were the undisputed property of the rival chieftain, to whose tent they were taken; but not until they had “run a muck” among the women and children, very similar to that which Bill had to submit to himself. It terminated in a similar manner: that is, by their owner taking them under his protection, not from any motives of humanity, but simply to save his property from receiving damage at the hands of the incarnate female furies, who seemed to take delight in maltreating them.

The old sheik, after allowing his fair followers, with their juvenile neophytes, for some length of time to indulge in their customary mode of saluting strange captives, withdrew the latter beyond the reach of persecution, to a place assigned them under the shadow of his tent. There, with a sinewy Arab standing over them, though as often squatted beside them, they were permitted to pass the remainder of the night, if not in sleep, at least in a state of tranquillity.

Chapter Thirty Six.

The Captives in Conversation.

This tranquillity only related to any disturbance experienced from their captors. There was none.

These had been on the eve of striking their tents, and moving off to some other oasis, previous to the last incident that had arisen.

As already stated, the two sheiks, by a mutual understanding, had been about to shake hands, and separate, the son of Japhet going north, to the markets of Morocco, while the descendant of Ham was to face homeward to his more tropical and appropriate clime, under the skies of Timbuctoo.

The “windfall” that had so unexpectedly dropped into the douar, first in the shape of Sailor Bill, and afterwards, in more generous guise, by the capture of the three “young gentlemen” of the gunroom, had caused some change in the plans of their captors.

By mutual understanding between the two sheiks, something was to be done in the morning; and their design of separating was deferred to another day.

The order to strike tents had been countermanded; and both tribes retired to rest, as soon as the captives had been disposed of for the night. The douar was silent, so far as the children of Ham and Japhet were concerned. Even their children had ceased to clamour and squall.

At intervals might be heard the neigh of a Barbary horse, the barking of a dog, the bleating of a goat, or a sound yet more appropriate to the scene, the snorting of a maherry.

In addition to these, human voices were heard. But they proceeded from the throats of the sons of Shem. For the most part they were uttered in a low tone, as the three midshipmen conversed seriously and earnestly together; but occasionally they became elevated to a higher pitch when Sailor Bill, guarded on the opposite side of the encampment, took part in the conversation, and louder speech was necessary to the interchange of thought between him and his fellow-captives.

The Arab watchers offered no interruption. They understood not a word of what was being said; and so long as the conversation of their captives did not disturb the douar, they paid no heed to it.

“What have they done to you, Bill?” was the first question asked by the new comers, after they had been left free to make inquiries.

“Faix!” responded the sailor, for it was Terry who had put the interrogatory; “iverything they cud think av, iverything to make an old salt as uncomfortable as can be. They’ve not left a sound bone in my body; nor a spot on my skin that’s not ayther pricked or scratched wid thar cruel thorns. My carcass must be like an old seventy-four, after comin’ out av action, as full av holes as a meal sieve.”

“But what did they do to you, Bill?” said Colin, almost literally repeating the interrogatory of Terence.

The sailor detailed his experiences since entering the encampment.

“It’s very clear,” remarked the young Scotchman, “that we need look for nothing but ill-treatment at the hands of these worse than savages. I suppose they intend making slaves of us.”

“That at least,” quietly assented Harry, “Sartin,” said the sailor. “They’ve let me know as much a’ready. There be two captains to their crew: one’s the smoke-dried old sinner as brought yer in; the other a big nayger, as black as the ace o’ spades. You saw the swab? He’s inside the tent here. He’s my master. The two came nigh quarrelling about which should have me, and settled it by some sort o’ a game they played wi’ balls of kaymals’ dung. The black won me; and that’s why I’m kep by his tent. Mother av Moses! Only to think of a British tar being the slave o’ a sooty nayger! I never thought it wud a come to this.”

“Where do you think they’ll take us, Bill?”

“The Lord only knows, an’ whether we’re all bound for the same port.”

“What! you think we may be separated?”

“Be ma saul, Maister Colin, I ha’e ma fears we wull!”

“What makes you think so?”

“Why, ye see, as I’ve telt ye, I’m booked to ship wi’ the black—‘sheik’ I’ve heerd them ca’ him. Well, from what I ha’e seed and heerd there’s nae doot they’re gaein’ to separate an’ tak different roads. I didna ken muckle o’ what they saved, but I could mak oot two words I ha’e often heerd while cruisin’ in the Gulf o’ Guinea. They are the names o’ two great toons, a lang way up the kintry, Timbuctoo and Sockatoo. They are negro toons: an’ for that reezun I ha’e a suspeshun my master’s bound to one or other o’ the two ports.”

“But why do you think that we are to be taken elsewhere?” demanded Harry Blount.

“Why, because, Master ’Aarry, you belong to the hold sheik, as is plainly a Harab, an’ oose port of hentry lies in a different direction, that be to the northart.”

“It’s all likely enough,” said Colin; “Bill’s prognostication is but too probable.”

“Why, ye see, Maister Colin, they are only land sharks who ha’e got hold o’ us. They’re too poor to keep us; an’ wull be sure to sell us somewhere, an’ to somebody that ha’e got the tocher to gie for us. That’s what they’ll do wi’ us poor bodies.”

“I hope,” said Terence, “they’ll not part us. No doubt slavery will be hard enough to bear under any circumstances; but harder if we have to endure it alone. Together, we might do something to alleviate one another’s lot. I hope we shall not be separated!”

To this hope all the others made a sincere response; and the conversation came to an end. They who had been carrying it on, worn-out by fatigue, and watchfulness long protracted, despite the unpleasantness of their situation, soon after, and simultaneously, yielded their spirits to the soothing oblivion of sleep.

Chapter Thirty Seven.

The Douar at Dawn.

They could have slept for hours, twenty-four of them had they been permitted such indulgence.

But they were not. As the first streaks of daylight became visible over the eastern horizon, the whole douar was up and doing.

The women and children of both hordes were seen flitting like shadows among the tents. Some squatted under camels, or kneeling by the sides of the goats, drew from these animals that lacteal fluid that may be said to form the staple of their food. Others might be observed emptying the precious liquid into skin bottles and sacks, and securing it against spilling in its transport through the deserts.

The matrons of the tribes, hags they looked, were preparing the true déjeuner, consisting of sangleh, a sort of gruel, made with millet-meal, boiled over a dull fire of camels’ dung.

The sangleh was to be eaten, by such of them as could afford it, mixed with goats’ or camels’ milk, unstrained and hairy, half curdled into a crab-like acidity, the moment it entered its stinking receptacle.

Here and there men were seen milking their mares or maherries, not a few indulging in the universal beverage by a direct application of their lips to the teats of the animal; while others, appointed to the task, were preparing the paraphernalia of the douar for transportation to some distant oasis.

Watching these various movements were the three mids, still stripped to their shirts, and the old man-o’-war’s-man, clad with like scantiness; since the only garment that clung to his sinewy frame was a pair of cotton drawers, neither very clean nor very sound at the seams.

All four shivered in the chill air of the morning: for hot as is the Saara under its noon-day sun, in the night hours its thermometer frequently falls almost to the point of freezing.

Their state of discomfort did not hinder them from observing what was passing around them. They could have slept on; but the discordant noises of the douar, and a belief that they would not be permitted any longer to enjoy their interrupted slumbers, hindered them from reclosing their eyes. Still recumbent, and occasionally exchanging remarks in a low tone of voice, they noted the customs of their captors.

The young Scotchman had read many books relating to the prairies of America, and their savage denizens. He was forcibly reminded of these by what he now saw in this oasis of the sandy Saara: the women treated like dogs, or worse, doing all the work that might be termed labour, tending the cattle, cooking the meals, pitching or striking the tents, loading the animals, and themselves bearing such portions of the load as exceeded the transport strength of the tribal quadrupeds, aided only by such wretched helots as misfortune had flung in the way of their common masters. The men, mostly idle, ludicrously nonchalant, reclining on their saddle pads, or skins, inhaling the narcotic weed; apparently proud in the possession of that lordship of wretchedness that surrounded them.

Colin was constrained to compare the savage life of two continents, separated by an ocean. He came to the conclusion, that under similar circumstances mankind will ever be the same. In the Comanche of the Llano Estacado, or the Pawnee of the Platte, he would have found an exact counterpart of the Ishmaelitish wanderer over the sandy plains of the Saara.

He was allowed but scant time to philosophise upon these ethnological phenomena. As the douar became stirred into general activity, he, along with his two companions, was rudely startled from his attitude of observation, and ordered to take a share in the toils of the captors.

At an earlier hour, and still more rudely, had Sailor Bill received the commands of his master; who, as the first rays of the Aurora began to dapple the horizon, had ordered the old man-o’-war’s-man to his feet, at the same time administering to him a cruel kick, that came very near shivering some of his stern timbers.

Had the black sheik been acquainted with the English language, as spoken in Ratcliff Highway, he would have better understood Sailor Bill’s reply to his rude matutinal salutation; which, along with several not very complimentary wishes, ended by devoting the “nayger’s” eyes to eternal perdition.

Chapter Thirty Eight.

An obstinate Dromedary.

The morning meal was eaten as soon as prepared. Its scantiness surprised our adventurers. Even the more distinguished individuals of the horde partook of only a very small quantity of milk, or sangleh. The two sheiks alone got anything like what might have been deemed an ordinary breakfast; while the more common class, as the half-breeds, hassanes; and the negro slaves had to content themselves with less than a pint of sour milk to each, half of which was water, the mixture denominated cheni.

Could this meal be meant for breakfast? Harry Blount and Terence thought not. But Colin corrected them, by alleging that it was. He had read of the wonderful abstemiousness of these children of the desert; how they can live on a single meal a day, and this scarce sufficient to sustain life in a child of six years old; that is, an English child. Often will they go for several successive days without eating; and when they do eat regularly, a drink of milk is all they require to satisfy hunger.

Colin was right. It was their ordinary breakfast. He might have added, their dinner too; for they would not likely obtain another morsel of food before sundown.

But where was the breakfast of Colin and his fellow-captives? This was the question that interested them far more than the dietary of the Bedouins. They were all hungering like hyenas, and yet no one seemed to think of them, no one offered them either bite or sup. Filthy as was the mess made by the Arab women, and filthily as they prepared it, boiling it in pots, and serving it up in wooden dishes, that did not appear to have had a washing for weeks, the sight of it increased the hungry cravings of the captives; and they would fain have been permitted to share the scanty déjeuner.

They made signs of their desire; piteous appeals for food, by looks and gestures, but all in vain; not a morsel was bestowed on them. Their brutal captors only laughed at them, as though they intended that all four should go without eating.

It soon became clear that they were not to starve in idleness. As soon as they had been started to their feet each of them was set to a task; one to collect camel’s dung for the cooking-fires; another to fetch water from the brackish muddy pool which had caused the oasis to become a place of encampment; while the third was called upon to assist in the loading of the tent equipage, along with the salvage of the wreck, an operation entered upon as soon as the sangleh had been swallowed.

Sailor Bill, in a different part of the douar, was kept equally upon the alert; and if he, or any of the other three, showed signs of disliking their respective tasks, one of the two sheiks made little ado about striking them with a leathern strap, a knotty stick, or any weapon that chanced to come readiest to hand. They soon discovered that they were under the government of taskmasters not to be trifled with, and that resistance or remonstrance would be alike futile. In short, they saw that they were slaves!

While packing the tents, and otherwise preparing for the march, they were witnesses to many customs, curious as new to them. The odd equipages of the animals, both those of burden and those intended to be ridden; the oval panniers, placed upon the backs of the camels, to carry the women and the younger children; the square pads upon the humps of the maherries; the tawny little piccaninnies strapped upon the backs of their mothers; the kneeling of the camels to receive their loads, as if consenting to what could not be otherwise than disagreeable to them, were all sights that might have greatly interested our adventurers, had they been viewing them under different circumstances.

Out of the last mentioned of these sights, an incident arose, illustrating the craft of their captors in the management of their domestic animals.

A refractory camel, that, according to usual habit, had voluntarily humiliated itself to receive its load, after this had been packed upon it, refused to rise to its feet. The beast either deemed the burden inequable and unjust (for the Arabian camel, like the Peruvian llama, has a very acute perception of fair play in this respect) or a fit of caprice had entered its mulish head. For one reason or another it exhibited a stern determination not to oblige its owner by rising to its feet; but continued its genuflexion in spite of every effort to get it on all-fours.

Coaxing and cajolery were tried to no purpose. Kicking by sandalled feet, scourging with whips, and beating with cudgels produced no better effect; and to all appearance the obstinate brute had made up its mind to remain in the oasis, and let the tribe depart without it.

At this crisis an ingenious method of making the camel change its mind suggested itself to its master; or perhaps he had practised it on some former occasion. Maddened by the obstinacy of the animal, he seized hold of an old burnouse, and rushing up, threw it over its head. Then drawing the rag tightly around its snout, he fastened it in such a manner as completely to stop up the nostrils.

The camel, finding its breathing thus suddenly interrupted, became terrified; and without further loss of time, scrambled to its feet; to the great amusement of the women and children who were spectators of the scene.

Chapter Thirty Nine.

Watering the Camels.

In an incredibly short space of time the tents were down, and the douar with all its belongings was no longer to be seen; or only in the shape of sundry packages balanced upon the backs of the animals.

The last operation before striking out upon the desert track, was the watering of these: the supply for the journey having been already dipped up out of the pool, and poured into goat’s-skin sacks.

The watering of the camels appeared to be regarded as the most important matter of all. In this performance every precaution was taken, and every attention bestowed, to ensure to the animals a full supply of the precious fluid, perhaps from a presentiment on the part of their owners that they themselves might some day stand in need of, and make use of, the same water!

Whether this was the motive or not, every camel belonging to the horde was compelled to drink till its capacious stomach was quite full; and the quantity consumed by each would be incredible to any other than the owner of an African dromedary. Only a very large cask could have contained it.

At the watering of the animals our adventurers had an opportunity of observing another incident of the Saara, quite as curious and original as that already described.

It chanced that the pool that furnished the precious fluid, and which contained the only fresh water to be found within fifty miles, was just then on the eve of being dried up. A long season of drought, that is to say, three or four years, had reigned over this particular portion of the desert; and the lagoon, formerly somewhat extensive, had shrunk into the dimensions of a trifling tank, containing little more than two or three hundred gallons. This during the stay of the two tribes united as wreckers had been daily diminishing; and had the occupants of the douar not struck tents at the time they did, in another day or so they would have been in danger of suffering from thirst. This was in reality the cause of their projected migration. But for the fear of getting short in the necessary commodity of fresh water, they would have hugged the seashore a little longer—in hopes of picking up a few more “waifs” from the wreck of the English ship.

At the hour of their departure from the encampment, the pool was on the eve of exhaustion. Only a few score gallons of not very pure water remained in it, about enough to fill the capacious stomachs of the camels; whose owners had gauged them too often to be ignorant of the quantity.

It would not do to play with this closely calculated supply. Every pint was precious; and to prove that it was so esteemed, the animals were constrained to swallow it in a fashion which certainly nature could never have intended.

Instead of taking it in by the mouth, the camels of these Saaran rovers were compelled to quench their thirst through the nostrils!

You will wonder in what manner this could be effected, inquiring whether the quadrupeds voluntarily performed this nasal imbibing?

Our adventurers, witnesses of the fact, wondered also—while struck with its quaint peculiarity.

There is a proverb that “one man may take a horse to the water, but twenty cannot compel him to drink.” Though this proverb may hold good of an English horse, it has no significance when applied to an African dromedary. Proof: our adventurers saw the owner of each camel bring his animal to the edge of the pool; but instead of permitting the thirsty creature to step in and drink for itself, its head was held aloft; a wooden funnel was filled, the narrow end inserted into the nostril, and by the respiratory canal the water introduced to the throat and stomach.

You may ask, why this selection of the nostrils, instead of the mouth? Our adventurers so interrogated one another. It was only after becoming better acquainted with the customs of the Saara, that they acquired a satisfactory explanation of one they had frequent occasion to observe.

Though ordinarily of the most docile disposition, and in most of its movements the most tranquil of creatures, the dromedary, when drinking from a vessel, has the habit of repeatedly shaking its head, and spilling large quantities of the water placed before it. Where water is scarce, and, as in the Saara, considered the most momentous matter of life, a waste of it after such fashion could not be tolerated. To prevent it, therefore, the camel-owner has contrived that this animal, so essential to his own safe existence, should drink through the orifices intended by nature for its respiration.

Chapter Forty.

A Squabble between the Sheiks.

The process of watering the camels was carried on with the utmost diligence and care. It was too important to be trifled with, or negligently performed. While filling the capacious stomachs of the quadrupeds, their owners were but laying in a stock for themselves.

As Sailor Bill jocularly remarked, “it was like filling the water-casks of a man-of-war previous to weighing anchor for a voyage.” In truth, very similar was the purpose for which these ships of the desert were being supplied; for, when filling the capacious stomachs of the quadrupeds, their owners were not without the reflection that the supply might yet pass into their own. Such a contingency was not improbable, neither would it be new.

For this reason the operation was conducted with diligence and care, no camel being led away from the pool until it was supposed to have had a “surfeit”, and this point was settled by seeing the water poured in at its nostrils running out at its mouth.

As each in turn got filled, it was taken back to the tribe to which it belonged; for the united hordes had by this time become separated into two distinct parties, preparatory to starting off on their respective routes.

Our adventurers could now perceive a marked difference between the two bands of Saara wanderers into whose hands they had unfortunately fallen. As already stated, the black sheik was an African of the true negro type, with thick lips, flattened nostrils, woolly hair, and heels projecting several inches to the rear of his ankle-joints. Most of his following were similarly “furnished”, though not all of them. There were a few of mixed colour, with straight hair, and features almost Caucasian, who submitted to his rule, or rather to his ownership, since these last all appeared to be his slaves.

Those who trooped after the old Arab were mostly of his own race, mixed with a remnant of mongrel Portuguese, descendants of the Peninsular colonists who had fled from the coast settlements after the conquest of Morocco by the victorious “Sheriffs.”

Of such mixed races are the tribes who thinly people the Saara—Arabs, Berbers, Ethiopians of every hue; all equally Bedouins, wanderers of the pathless deserts. It did not escape the observation of our adventurers that the slaves of the Arab sheik and his followers were mostly pure negroes from the south; while those of the black chieftain, as proclaimed by the colour of their skin, showed a Shemitic or Japhetic origin. The philosophic Colin could perceive in this a silent evidence of the retribution of races.

The supply of water being at length laid in, not only in the skins appropriated to the purpose, but also within the stomachs of the camels, the two tribes seem prepared to exchange with each other the parting salute, to speak the “Peace be with you!” And yet there was something that caused them to linger in each other’s proximity. Their new-made captives could tell this, though ignorant of what it might be.

It was something that had yet to be settled between the two sheiks who did not appear at this moment of leave-taking to entertain for each other any very cordial sentiment of friendship.

Could their thoughts have found expression in English words, they would have taken shape somewhat as follows:—

“That lubberly nigger,” (we are pursuing the train of reflections that passed through the mind of the Arab sheik)—“old Nick burn him!—thinks I’ve got more than my share of this lucky windfall. He wants these boys bad, I know that. The Sultan of Timbuctoo has given him a commission to procure white slaves, that’s clear; and boy slaves, if he can, that’s equally certain. This lot would suit him to a T. I can tell that he don’t care much for the old salt he has tricked me out of by his superior skill at that silly game of helga. No; his Majesty of the mud-walled city don’t want such as him. It’s boys he’s after, as can wait smartly at his royal table, and give éclat to his ceremonial entertainments. Well, he can have these three at a price.

“Ay; but a big price,” continued the cunning old trafficker in human flesh, after a short reflection, “a whopping big price. The togs we’ve stripped from them were no common clothing. Good broadcloth in their jackets, and bullion bands on their caps. They must be the sons of great sheiks. At Wedinoin the old Jew will redeem them. So, too, the merchants at Susa; or maybe I had best take them on to Mogador, where the consul of their country will come down handsomely for such as they. Yes; that’s the trick!”

At this parting scene the thoughts of Fatima’s husband were equally occupied with trading speculations, in which he was assisted by the amiable Fatima herself.

Translated also into English, they would have read as follows:—

“The Sultan would give threescore of his best blacks for those three tripe-coloured brats.”

“I know it, Fatty dear; he’s told me so himself.”

“Then, why not get them, and bring ’em along?”

“Ah, that’s easy to say. How can I? You know they belong to the old Arab by right, at least he claims them, though not very fairly, for if we hadn’t come up in good time they would have taken him instead of his taking them; no matter for that, they’re his now by the laws of the Saara.”

“Bother the laws of the Saara!” exclaimed Fatima, with a disdainful toss of her head, and a scornful turning up of her two protruding teeth; “all stuff and nonsense! There’s no law in the Saara; and if there was, you know we’re never coming into it again. The price you’d get for those three hobbledehoys would keep us comfortable for the balance of our lives; and we need never track the Devil’s desert again. Take ’em by force from old yellow-face, if you can’t get ’em otherwise; but you may ‘chouse’ him out of them at a game of helga, you know you can beat him at that. If he won’t play again, try your hand at bargaining against your blacks, offer him two to one.”

Thus counselled by the partner of his bosom, the black sheik, instead of bidding the saleik aloum to his Arab confrère, raised his voice aloud, and demanded from the latter a parley upon business of importance.

Chapter Forty One.

The Trio staked.

The parley that followed was of course unintelligible to our adventurers, the Boy Slaves.

But although they did not understand the words that were exchanged between the two sheiks, they were not without having a conjecture as to their import. The gestures made by the two men, and their looks cast frequently towards themselves, led them to believe that the conversation related to their transference from one to the other.

There was not much to choose between the two masters. Both appeared to be unfeeling savages, and so far had treated their captives with much cruelty. They could only hope, in case of a transfer taking place, that it would not be partial, but would extend to the trio, and that they would be kept together. They had been already aware that Old Bill was to be parted from them, and this had caused them a painful feeling; but to be themselves separated, perhaps never to meet again, was a thought still more distressing.

The three youths had been long shipmates, even since entering the naval service of their country. They had become fast friends; and believed that whatever might be the fate before them they could better bear it in each other’s company. Companionship would at least enable them to cheer one another; mutual sympathy would, to some extent, alleviate the hardest lot; while alone, and under such cruel taskmasters, the prospect was gloomy in the extreme.

With feelings of keen anxiety, therefore, did they listen to the palaver and watch the countenances of their captors.

After a full half-hour spent in loud talking and gesticulating, some arrangement appeared to have been arrived at between the two sheiks. Those most interested in it could only guess what it was by what followed.

Silence having been partially restored, the old Arab was seen to step up to the spot where the slaves of the black sheik were assembled; and, after carefully scrutinising them, pick out three of the stoutest, plumpest, and healthiest young negroes in the gang. These were separated from the others, and placed on the plain some distance apart.

“We’re to be exchanged,” muttered Terence, “we’re to belong to the ugly black nayger. Well, perhaps it’s better. We’ll be with Old Bill.”

“Stay a wee,” said Colin; “there’s something more to come yet, I think.”

The black sheik at this moment coming up, interrupted the conversation of the captives.

What was he going to do? Take them with him, they supposed. The old Arab had himself led out the three young “darkies”; and the black sheik was about to act in like manner with the trio of white captives.

So reasoned they; and, as it was a matter of indifference to them with which they went, they would offer no opposition.

To their chagrin, however, instead of all three, only one of them was led off; the other two being commanded by gestures to keep their ground.

It was O’Connor to whom this partiality was shown; the black sheik having selected him after a short while spent in scrutinising and comparing the three. The Irish youth was of stouter build than either of his shipmates; and this, perhaps, guided the black sheik in making his choice. By all appearances, the conditions of the exchange were to be different from what our adventurers had anticipated. It was not to be man for man, or boy for boy; but three for one, three blacks to a white.

This was, in reality, the terms that had been agreed upon. The avaricious old Arab, not caring very much to part with his share of the spoil, would not take less than three to one; and to this the black sheik, after long and loud bargaining, had consented.

Terence was led up and placed alongside the three young darkies, who, instead of taking things as seriously as he, were exhibiting their ivories in broad grins of laughter, as if the disposal of their persons was an affair to be treated only as a joke.

Our adventurers were now apprehensive that they were to be separated. Their only hope was that the bargaining would not end there; but would extend to a further exchange of six blacks for the two remaining whites.

Their conjectures were interrupted by their seeing that the “swop” was not yet considered complete.

What followed, in fact, showed them that it was not a regular trade at all; but a little bit of gambling between the two sheiks, in which Terence and the three young blacks were to be the respective stakes.

Old Bill was able to explain the proceedings from his experience of the preceding night; and, as he saw the two sheiks repair to the place where his own proprietorship had been decided, he cried out, “Ye’re goin’ to be gambled for, Masther Terry! Och! ye’ll be along wid me; for the black can bate the owld Arab at that game, all hollow.”

The holes in which the helga had been played on the proceeding night, were now resorted to. The proper number of dung pellets were procured, and the game proceeded.

It ended as the old man-o’-war’s-man had prognosticated, by the black sheik becoming the winner and owner of Terence O’Connor.

The Arab appeared sadly chagrined, and by the way in which he strutted and stormed over the ground, it was evident he would not rest satisfied with his loss. When did gamester ever leave gaming-table so long as a stake was left him to continue the play?

Two of the midshipmen still belonged to the old sheik. With these he might obtain a revanche. He made the trial. He was unfortunate as before. Either the luck was against him, or he was no match at “desert draughts” for his sable antagonist.

It ended in the black sheik becoming the owner of the three midshipmen; who, restored to the companionship of Sailor Bill, in less than twenty minutes after the conclusion of the game were trudging it across the desert in the direction of Timbuctoo.

Chapter Forty Two.

Golah.

In their journey over the sea of sand, our four adventurers formed part of a company of sixteen men and women, along with six or seven children.

All were the property of one man, the huge and dusky sheik who had won Sailor Bill and the three middies at “desert draughts.”

It soon became known to his white captives that his name was Golah, a name which Terence suggested might be an African abbreviation of the ancient name of Goliah.

Golah was certainly a great man, not in bone and flesh alone, but in intellect as well.

We do not claim for him the gigantic mind that by arranging a few figures and symbols, by the light of a lamp in a garret, could discover a new planet in the solar system, and give its dimensions, weight, and distance from the dome of Saint Paul’s. Neither do we claim that the power of his intellect, if put forth in a storm of eloquence, could move the masses of his fellow-creatures, as a hurricane stirs up the waters of the sea; yet, for all this, Golah had a great intellect. He was born to rule; and not a particle of all the propensities and sentiments constituting his mind was ever intended to yield to the will of another.

The cunning old sheik, who had the first claim to the three mids, had been anxious to retain them; but they were also wanted by Golah, and the Arab was compelled to give them up, after having been fairly beaten at the game; parting with his sable competitor in a mood that was anything but agreeable.

The black sheik had three wives, all of whom possessed the gift of eloquence in a high degree.

For all this, a single glance from him was enough to stop any one of them in the middle of a monosyllable.

Even Fatima, the favourite, owed much of her influence to the ability she displayed in studying her lord’s wishes to the neglect of her own.

Golah had seven camels, four of which were required for carrying himself and his wives, with their children, trappings, tent utensils, and tents.

The three other camels were laden with the spoils which had been collected from the wreck. Twelve of the sixteen adults in the company were compelled to walk, being forced to keep up with the camels the best way they could.

One of these was Golah’s son, a youth about eighteen years of age. He was armed with a long Moorish musket, a heavy Spanish sword, and the dirk that had been taken from Colin.

He was the principal guard over the slaves, in which duty he was assisted by another youth, whom our adventurers afterwards learnt was a brother of one of Golah’s wives.

This second youth was armed with a musket and scimitar, and both he and Golah’s son seemed to think that their lives depended on keeping a constant watch over the ten slaves; for there were six others besides Sailor Bill and his young companions. They had all been captured, purchased, or won at play, during Golah’s present expedition, and were now on the way to some southern market.

Two of the six were pronounced by Sailor Bill to be Kroomen, a race of Africans with whose appearance he was somewhat familiar, having often seen them acting as sailors in ships coming from the African coast.

The other slaves were much lighter in complexion, and by the old man-o’-war’s-man were called “Portugee blacks.” All had the appearance of having spent some time in bondage on the great Saara.

On the first day of their journey the white captives had learnt the relations existing between the majority of the company and the chief Golah; and each of them felt shame as well as indignation at the humiliating position in which he was placed.

Those feelings were partly excited and greatly strengthened by hunger and thirst, as well as by the painful toil they had to undergo in dragging themselves over the sandy plain beneath a scorching sun.

“I have had enough of this,” said Harry Blount to his companions. “We might be able to stand it several days longer, but I’ve no curiosity to learn whether we can or not.”

“Go on! you are thinking and speaking for me, Harry,” said Terence.

“There are four of us,” continued Harry, “four of that nation whose people boast they never will be slaves; besides, there are six others, who are our fellow-bondsmen. They’re not much to look at, but still they might count for something in a row. Shall we four British tars, belong to a party of ten, all enslaved by three men, black men at that?”

“That’s just what I’ve been thinking about, for the last hour or two,” said Terence. “If we don’t kill old Golah, and ride off with his camels, we deserve to pass every day of our lives as we’re doing this one—in slavery.”

“Just say the word, when and how,” cried Harry. “I’m waiting. There are seven camels. Let us each take one; but before we go we must eat and drink the other three. I’m starving.”

“Pitch on a plan, and I’ll pitch into it,” rejoined Terence. “I’m ready for anything, from pitch and toss to manslaughter.”

“Stay, Master Terence,” interrupted the old sailor. “Av coorse ye are afther wantin’ to do somethin’, an’ thin to think aftherwards why ye did it. ’Arry, my lad, yer half out o’ yer mind. Master Colin be the only yin o’ ye that keeps his seven senses about him. Suppose, all av ye, that the big chief was dead, an’ that his son was not alive, and that the other nager was a ristin’ quietly wid his black heels turned from the place where the daisies hought to grow, what should we do thin? We ’ave neither chart nor compass. We could’ner mak oot our reckonin’. Don’t ye see, a voyage here is just like one at sea, only it be just the revarse. When men are starvin’ at sea, they want to find land, but when they are starvin’ in the desert they want to find water. The big nager, our captain, can navigate this sea in safety, we can’t. We must let him take us to some port and then do the best we can to escape from him.”

“You are quite right,” said Colin, “in thinking that we might be unable to find our way from one watering-place to another; but it is well for us to calculate all the chances. After reaching some port, as you call it, may we not find ourselves in a position more difficult to escape from; where we will have to contend with a hundred or more of these negro brutes in place of only three?”

“That’s vary likely,” answered the sailor, “but they’re only men, and we ’ave a chance of beatin’ ’em. We may fight with men and conquer ’em, an’ we may fight with water an’ conquer that, but when we fight against no water that will conquer us. Natur is sure to win.”

“Bill’s right there,” said Terence, “and I feel that Nature is getting the best of me already.”

While they were holding this conversation they noticed that one of the Kroomen kept near them, and seemed listening to all that was said. His sparkling eyes betrayed the greatest interest.

“Do you understand us?” asked old Bill, turning sharply towards the African, and speaking in an angry tone.

“Yus, sa—a lilly bit,” answered the Krooman, without seeming to notice the unpleasant manner in which the question had been put.

“And what are you listening for?”

“To hear what you tell um. I like go in Ingleesh ship. You talk good for me. I go ’long with you.”

With some difficulty the sailor and his companions could comprehend the Krooman’s gibberish. They managed to learn from him that he had once been in an English ship, and had made a voyage along the African coast, trading for palm-oil. While on board he had picked up a smattering of English. He was afterwards shipwrecked in a Portuguese brig, cast away on the shores of the Saara, just as our adventurers had been, and had passed four years in the desert, a slave to its denizens.

He gratified our adventurers by telling them that they were in no danger of having to endure a prolonged period of captivity, as they would soon be sold into liberty, instead of slavery. Golah could not afford to keep slaves; and was only a kidnapper and dealer in the article. He would sell them to the highest bidder, and that would be some English consul on the coast.

The Krooman said there was no such hope for him and his companions, for their country did not redeem its subjects from slavery.

When he saw that Golah had obtained some English prisoners, he had been cheered with the hope that he might be redeemed along with them, as an English subject, to which right he had some claim from having served on an English ship.

During the day the black slaves, well knowing the duty they were expected to perform, had been gathering pieces of dried camels’ dung along the way: this was to supply fuel for the fire of the douar at night.

Soon after sunset Golah ordered a halt, when the camels were unloaded, and the tents set up.

About one quarter the quantity of sangleh that each required was then served out to the slaves for their dinner, and as they had eaten nothing since morning, this article of food appeared to have greatly improved, both in appearance and flavour. To the palates of our adventurers it seemed delicious.

Golah, after examining his human property, and evidently satisfied with the condition of all, retired to his tent; from which soon after issued sounds that resembled a distant thunder-storm.

The black sheik was snoring.

The two young men, his son and brother-in-law relieved each other during the night in keeping watch over the slaves.

Their vigil was altogether unnecessary. Weak, and exhausted with hunger and fatigue, the thoughts of the captives were not of the future, but of present repose; which was eagerly sought, and readily found, by all four of them.

Chapter Forty Three.

A Day of Agony.

An hour before sunrise the next morning, the slaves were given some cheni to drink, and then started on their journey.

The sun, as it soared up into a cloudless sky, shot forth its rays much warmer than upon the day before, while not a breath of air fanned the sterile plain. The atmosphere was as hot and motionless as the sands under their feet. They were no longer hungry. Thirst, raging, burning thirst, extinguished or deadened every other sensation.

Streams of perspiration poured from their bodies, as they struggled through the yielding sand; yet, with all this moisture streaming from every pore, their throats, tongues, and lips became so parched that any attempt on their part to hold converse only resulted in producing a series of sounds that resembled a death-rattle.

Golah, with his family, rode in the advance, and seemed not to give himself any concern whether he was followed by others or not. His two relatives brought up the rear of the kafila, and any of the slaves exhibiting a disposition to lag behind was admonished to move on with blows administered by a thick stick.

“Tell them I must have water or die,” muttered Harry to the Krooman, in a hoarse whisper. “I am worth money, and if old Golah lets me die for want of a drop of water, he’s a fool.”

The Krooman refused to make the communication, which he declared would only result in bringing ill-treatment upon himself.

Colin appealed to Golah’s son, and by signs gave him to understand that they must have water. The young black, in answer, simply condescended to sneer at him. He was not suffering himself, and could have no sympathy for another.

The hides of the blacks, besmeared with oil, seemed to repel the scorching beams of the sun; and years of continual practice had no doubt inured them to the endurance of hunger and thirst to a surprising degree. To their white fellow-captives they appeared more like huge reptiles than human beings.

The sand along the route on this, the second day, was less compact than before, and the task of leg-lifting produced a weariness such as might have arisen from the hardest work. Added to the agony of their thirst, the white sufferers dwelt frequently on thoughts of death, that great antidote to human miseries; yet so constrained were their actions by force of circumstances, that only by following their leader and owner, Golah, could they hope to find relief.

Had he allowed them to turn back to the coast, whence they had started, or even to repose for a few hours on the way, they could not have done so. They were irresistibly compelled to move on, by a power that could not be resisted.

That power was hope, the hope of obtaining some sangleh and a little dirty water.

To turn back, or to linger behind, would bring them nothing but more suffering, perhaps death itself.

A man intent on dying may throw himself into the water to get drowned, and then find himself involuntarily struggling to escape from the death he has courted.

The same irresistible antipathy to death compelled his white captives to follow the black sheik.

They were unwilling to die, not for the sole reason that they had homes and friends they wished to see again, not solely for that innate love of life, implanted by nature in the breasts of all; but there was a pleasure which they desired to experience once more, ay, yearned to indulge in it: the pleasure of quenching their terrible thirst. To gratify this pleasure they must follow Golah.

One of Golah’s wives had three children; and as each wife was obliged to look after her own offspring, this woman could not pursue her journey without a little more trouble than her less favoured companions.

The eldest of her children was too young to walk a long distance; and, most of the time, was carried under her care upon the maherry. Having her three restless imps to keep balanced upon the back of the camel, requiring her constant vigilance to prevent them from falling off, she found her hands full enough. It was a sort of travelling that did not at all suit her; and she had been casting about for some way of being relieved from at least a portion of her trouble.

The plan she devised was to compel someone of the slaves to carry her eldest child, a boy about four years of age.

Colin was the victim selected for this duty. All the attempts made by the young Scotchman to avoid the responsibilities thus imposed upon him, proved vain. The woman was resolute, and Colin had to yield; although he resisted until she threatened to call Golah to her assistance.

This argument was conclusive; and the young darkey was placed upon Colin’s shoulders, with its legs around his neck, and one of its hands grasping him tightly by the hair.

When this arrangement was completed, night had drawn near; and the two young men who acted as guards hastened forward to select a place for the douar.

There was no danger of any of the slaves making an attempt to escape; for all were too anxious to receive the small quantity of food that was to be allowed them at the night halt.

Encumbered with the “piccaninny,” and wearied with the long ceaseless struggle through the sand, Colin lingered behind his companions. The mother of the child, apparently attentive to the welfare of her firstborn, checked the progress of her maherry, and rode back to him.

After the camels had been unloaded, and the tents pitched, Golah superintended the serving out of their suppers, which consisted only of sangleh. The quantity was even less than had been given the evening before; but it was devoured by the white captives with a pleasure none of them had hitherto experienced.

Sailor Bill declared that the brief time in which he was employed in consuming the few mouthfuls allowed him was a moment of enjoyment that repaid him for all the sufferings of the day.

“Ah! Master ’Arry,” said he, “it’s only now we are larnin’ to live, although I did think, one time to-day, we was just larnin’ to die. I never mean to eat again until I’m hungry. Master Terry,” he added, turning to the young Irishman, “isn’t this foine livin’ intirely? and are yez not afther bein’ happy?”

“’Tis the most delicious food man ever ate,” answered Terence; “and the only fault I can find is, that there is not enough of it.”

“Then you may have what is left of mine,” said Colin, “for I can’t say that I fancy it.”

Harry, Terence, and the sailor, gazed at the young Scotchman with expressions of mingled alarm and surprise. Small as had been the amount of sangleh with which Colin had been served, he had not eaten more than one half of it.

“Why, puir Maister Colly, what is wrang wi’ ye?” exclaimed Bill, in a tone expressing fear and pity. “If ye dinna eat, mon, ye’ll dee.”

“I’m quite well,” answered Colin, “but I have had plenty, and any of you can take what is left.”

Though the hunger of Colin’s three companions was not half satisfied, they all refused to finish the remainder of his supper, hoping that he might soon find his appetite, and eat it himself.

The pleasure they had enjoyed in eating the small allowance given them rendered it difficult for them to account for the conduct of their companion. His abstemiousness caused them uneasiness, even alarm.

Chapter Forty Four.

Colin in Luck.

The next morning when the caravan started, Colin again had the care of the young black. He did not always have to carry him, as part of the time the boy trotted along by his side.

During the fore part of the day the young Scotchman with his charge easily kept up with his companions, and some of the time might be seen a little in advance of them. His kind attentions to the boy were observed by Golah, who showed some sign of human feeling, by exhibiting a contortion of his features intended for a smile.

Towards noon, Colin appeared to become fatigued with the toil of the journey, and then fell back to the rear, as he had done the evening before. Again the anxious mother, ever mindful of the welfare of her offspring, was seen to check her camel, and wait until Colin and the boy overtook her.

Sailor Bill had been much surprised at Colin’s conduct the evening before, especially at the patient manner in which the youth had submitted to the task of looking after the child. There was a mystery in the young Scotchman’s behaviour he could not comprehend, a mystery that soon became more profound. It had also attracted the attention of Harry and Terence, notwithstanding the many unpleasant circumstances of the journey calculated to abstract their thoughts from him and his charge.

Shortly after noon, the woman was seen driving Colin up to the kafila, urging him forward with loud screams, and blows administered with the knotted end of the rope by which she guided her maherry.

After a time, Golah, apparently annoyed by her shrill scolding voice, ordered her to desist, and permit the slave to continue his journey in peace.

Although unable to understand the meaning of her words, Colin must have known that the woman was not using terms of endearment.

The screaming angry tone, and the blows of the rope, might have told him this; and yet he submitted to her reproaches and chastisements with a meekness and a philosophic resignation which surprised his companions.

When his thoughts were not too much absorbed by painful reveries over the desire for food and water, Harry endeavoured to converse with the Krooman already mentioned. He now applied to the man for an interpretation of the words so loudly vociferated by the angry negress, and launched upon the head of the patient young Scotchman.

The Krooman said that she had called the lad a lazy pig, a Christian dog, and an unbelieving fool, and that she threatened to kill him unless he kept up with the kafila.

On the third day of their journeying, it chanced not to be quite so hot as on the one preceding it; and consequently the sufferings of the slaves, especially from thirst, were somewhat less severe.

“I shall never endure such agony again,” said Harry, speaking of his experience of the previous day. “Perhaps I may die for the want of water, and on this desert; but I can never suffer so much real pain a second time.”

“’Ow is that, Master ’Arry?” asked Bill.

“Because I cannot forget, after my experience of last night, that the greater the desire for water the more pleasure there is in gratifying it; and the anticipation of such happiness will go far to alleviate anything I may hereafter feel.”

“Well, there be summat in that, for sartin,” answered the sailor, “for I can’t help thinkin’ about ’ow nice our supper was last night, and only ’ope it will taste as well to-night again.”

“We have learnt something new,” said Terence; “new, at least, to me; and I shall know how to live when I get where there is plenty. Heretofore I have been like a child, eating and drinking half my time, not because I required it, but because I knew no better. There is Colly now, he don’t seem to appreciate the beauty of this Arabian style of living; or he may understand it better than we. Perhaps he is waiting until he acquires a better appetite, so that he may have all the more pleasure in gratifying it. Where is he now?”

They all looked about. They saw that Colin had once more fallen behind; and that the mother of the child was again waiting for him.

Harry and Terrence walked on, expecting that they would soon see their companion rudely driven up by the angry negress.

Sailor Bill stopped, as though he was interested in being a witness to the scene thus anticipated.

In a few minutes after, the young Scotchman, with the child, was hurried forward by the enraged hag, who once more seemed in a great passion at his inability or unwillingness to keep up with the others.

“I ken it a’ noo,” said Bill, after he had stood for some time witnessing the ill-treatment heaped upon Colin. “Our freen Colly’s in luck. I’ve no langer any wonder at his taking a’ this trouble wi’ the blackey bairn.”

“What is it, Bill? What have you learnt now?” asked Terrence and Harry, in a breath.

“I’ve larnt why Colly could not eat his dinner yesterday.”

“Well, why was it?”

“I’ve larnt that the nager’s anger with Colly is all a pretince, an’ that she is an old she-schemer.”

“Nonsense, Bill; that is all a fancy of yours,” said Colin, who, with the child on his shoulders, was now walking alongside his companions.

“It is no fancy of mine, mon,” answered Bill, “but a fancy o’ the woman for a bra’ fair luddie. What is it that she gives you to eat, Maister Colly?”

Seeing that it was idle to conceal his good fortune any longer, Colin now confessed it, informing them that the woman, whenever she could do so without being seen, had given him a handful of dried figs, with a drink of camel’s milk from a leathern bottle which she carried under her cloak.

Notwithstanding the opinion they had just expressed, on the enjoyment attending prolonged thirst and hunger, Colin’s companions congratulated him on his good fortune, one and all declaring their willingness to take charge of the little darkey, on the condition of being similarly rewarded.

They had no suspicion at that moment that their opinions might soon undergo a change; and that Colin’s supposed good fortune would ere long become a source of much uneasiness to all of them.

Chapter Forty Five.

Sailor Bill’s Experiment.

The afternoon of this day was very warm, yet Golah rode on at such a quick pace, that it required the utmost exertion of the slaves to keep up with him.

This manner of travelling, under the circumstances in which he was required to pursue it, proved too severe for Sailor Bill to endure with any degree of patience.

He became unable, as he thought, to walk any farther; or, if not wholly unable, he was certainly unwilling, and he therefore sat down.

A heavy shower of blows produced no effect in moving him from the spot where he had seated himself; and the two young men who acted as guards, not knowing what else to do, and having exhausted all their arguments, accompanied by a series of kicks at length appealed to Golah.

The sheik instantly turned his maherry and rode back.

Before he had reached the place, however, the three mids had used all their influence in an endeavour to get their old companion to move on. In this they had been joined by the Krooman, who entreated Bill, if he placed any value on his life, to get up before Golah should arrive, for he declared the monster would show him no mercy.

“For God’s sake,” exclaimed Harry Blount, “if it is possible for you to get up and go a little way farther, do so.”

“Try to move on, man,” said Terence, “and we will help you. Come, Bill, for the sake of your friends try to get up. Golah is close by.”

While thus speaking, Terence, assisted by Colin, took hold of Bill and tried to drag him to his feet; but the old sailor obstinately persisted in remaining upon the ground.

“Perhaps I could walk on a bit farther,” said he, “but I won’t. I’ve ’ad enough on it. I’m goin’ to ride, and let Golah walk awhile. He’s better able to do it than I am. Now don’t you boys be so foolish as to get yersels into trouble on my account. All ye’ve got to do is to look on, an’ ye’ll larn somethin’. If I’ve no youth an’ beauty, like Colly, to bring me good luck, I’ve age and experience, and I’ll get it by schamin’.”

On reaching the place where the sailor was sitting, Golah was informed of what had caused the delay, and that the usual remedy had failed of effect.

He did not seem displeased at the communication. On the contrary, his huge features bore an expression that for him might have been considered pleasant.

He quietly ordered the slave to get up, and pursue his journey.

The weary sailor had blistered feet; and, with his strength almost exhausted by hunger and thirst, had reached the point of desperation. Moreover, for the benefit of himself and his young companions, he wished to try an experiment.

He told the Krooman to inform the sheik that he would go on, if allowed to ride one of the camels.

“You want me to kill you?” exclaimed Golah, when this communication was made to him; “you want to cheat me out of the price I have paid for you; but you shall not. You must go on. I, Golah, have said it.”

The sailor, in reply, swore there was no possible chance for them to take him any farther without allowing him to ride.

This answer to the sheik’s civil request was communicated by the Krooman; and, for a moment, Golah seemed puzzled as to how he should act.

He would not kill the slave, after saying that he must go on; nor would he have him carried, since the man would then gain his point.

He stood for a minute meditating on what was to be done. Then a hideous smile stole over his features. He had mastered the difficulty.

Taking its halter from the camel, he fastened one end of it to the saddle, and the other around the wrists of the sailor. Poor Old Bill made resistance to being thus bound, but he was like an infant in the powerful grasp of the black sheik.

The son and brother-in-law of Golah stood by with their muskets on full cock, and the first move any of Bill’s companions could have made to assist him, would have been a signal for them to fire.

When the fastenings were completed, the sheik ordered his son to lead the camel forward; and the sailor, suddenly jerked from his attitude of repose, was rudely dragged onward over the sand.

“You are going now!” exclaimed Golah, nearly frantic with delight; “and we are not carrying you, are we? Neither are you riding? Bismillah! I am your master!”

The torture of travelling in this manner was too great to be long endured; and Bill had to take to his feet and walk forward as before. He was conquered; but as a punishment for the trouble he had caused, the sheik kept him towing at the tail of the camel for the remainder of that day’s journey.

Any one of the white slaves would once have thought that he possessed too much spirit to allow himself, or a friend, to be subjected to such treatment as Bill had that day endured.

None of them was deficient in true courage; yet the proud spirit, of which each had once thought himself possessed, was now subdued by a power to which, if it be properly applied, all animate things must yield.

That power was the feeling of hunger; and there is no creature so wild and fierce but will tamely submit to the dominion of the man who commands it. It is a power that must be used with discretion, or the victims to it, urged by desperation, may destroy their keeper. Golah had the wisdom to wield it with effect; for by it, with the assistance of two striplings, he easily controlled those who, under other circumstances, would have claimed the right to be free.

Chapter Forty Six.

An unjust Reward.

The next morning on resuming the journey Golah condescended to tell his captives that they should reach a well or spring that afternoon, and stay by it for two or three days.

This news was conveyed to Harry by the Krooman; and all were elated at the prospect of rest, with a plentiful supply of water.

Harry had a long conversation with the Krooman as they were pursuing their route. The latter expressed his surprise that the white captives were so contented to go on in the course in which the sheik was conducting them.

This was a subject about which Harry and his companions had given themselves no concern; partly because they had no idea that Golah was intending to make a very long journey, and partly because they supposed his intentions, whatever they were, could not be changed by anything they might propose.

The Krooman thought different. He told Harry that the route they were following, if continued, would lead them far into the interior of the country, probably to Timbuctoo; and that Golah should be entreated to take them to some port on the coast, where they might be ransomed by an English consul.

Harry perceived the truth of these suggestions; and, after having a conversation with his companions, it was determined between them that they should have a talk with Golah that very night.

The Krooman promised to act as interpreter, and to do all in his power to favour their suit. He might persuade the sheik to change his destination, by telling him that he would find a far better market in taking them to some place where vessels arrive and depart, than by carrying them into the interior of the country.

The man then added, speaking in a mysterious manner, that there was one more subject on which he wished to give them warning. When pressed to mention it, he appeared reluctant to do so.

He was at last prevailed upon to be more communicative; when he proclaimed his opinion, that their companion, Colin, would never leave the desert.

“Why is that?” asked Harry.

“Bom-bye he be kill. De sheik kill um.”

Although partly surmising his reasons for having formed this opinion, Harry urged him to further explain himself.

“Ef Golah see de moder ob de piccaninny gib dat lad one lilly fig, one drop ob drink, he kill um, sartin-sure. I see, one, two, seb’ral more see. Golah no fool. Bom-bye he see too, and kill um bof, de lad an’ de piccaninny moder.”