CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE MIDDY, BECOMING DEFIANT AND VIOLENT, COMES TO GRIEF, AND HESTER'SBLACK FRIENDS DEVISE STRANGE THINGS.
On the afternoon of the day in which Peter the Great paid his visit toHester Sommers in the little boudoir, Ben-Ahmed sent for George Fosterand bade him make a portrait of a favourite dog.
It so happened that our artist had run short of some of his drawingmaterials, and said that he could not get on well without them.
"Go to the town, then, got a supply, and return quickly," saidBen-Ahmed, who was smoking his hookah in the court at the time andplaying gently with the lost Hester's pet gazelle.
The graceful little creature had drooped since the departure of hismistress, as if he felt her loss keenly. Perhaps it was sympathy thatdrew it and Ben-Ahmed more together than in times past. Certainly thereseemed to be a bond of some sort between them at that time which had notexisted before, and the Moor was decidedly more silent and sad sinceHester's flight. In his efforts to recover the runaway he had at firsttaken much trouble, but as time passed he left it in the hands of Osman,who seemed even more anxious than his father to recover the lost slave.
As the midshipman was leaving the court the Moor called him back,addressing him as usual in Lingua Franca, while the youth, taking hiscue from Peter the Great, answered in English.
"You know something about this English girl?" he suddenly said, with asteady look at his slave.
"I--I--yes, I _do_ know something about her," replied Foster, in someconfusion.
"Do you know where she hides?"
"N-no; I do not."
"I have been led to understand that British officers never tell lies,"returned the Moor sternly.
The blood rushed to the middy's face as he replied boldly, "You havebeen correctly informed--at least, in regard to those officers who aretrue gentlemen."
"Why, then, do you hesitate?" retorted the Moor. "Do Englishmen blushand stammer when they tell the truth? Tell me the truth _now_. Do youknow where the English girl hides?"
The Moor spoke very sternly, but his slave, instead of becoming moreconfused, suddenly drew himself up, and replied in a voice and with alook as stern as his own--
"Ben-Ahmed, I told you the truth at first. I do _not_ know where she ishiding. I _did_, indeed, know some time ago, but the place of her abodehas been changed, and I do not know now. I may as well however say atonce that, if I did know, nothing that you can do would induce me totell you where she hides. You may imprison, torture, or slay me if youchoose, but in regard to Hester Sommers I am from this moment dumb!"
There was a curious smile on the Moor's lips while the midshipmandelivered this speech with flashing eyes and energetic action, but therewas no anger in his tone as he replied--
"Englishman," he said quietly, "you _love_ this girl." If a bombshellhad exploded under his feet our middy could hardly have been taken moreby surprise. But he had been put on his mettle now, and scorned to showagain a wavering front.
"Yes, Moor," he replied, "I _do_ love her, though I have never told herso, nor have I the slightest reason to believe that she cares a fig for_me_. But I now tell you plainly that I will take advantage of everyopportunity that comes in my way to serve her and help her to escape. Inow also recall the promise--the word of honour--I gave you, not to tryto escape. There was a time," continued the middy, in a softened tone,"when I thought of recalling this promise with defiance to you to doyour worst; but, Ben-Ahmed, I have lived to learn that, after a fashion,you have been kind to me; that I might have fallen into worse hands;therefore I am not ungrateful, and I now recall the promise only withregret. All the same, my resolve is fixed."
The curious smile still lingered on the Moor's lips as he said, almostin a jesting tone--
"But you will not try to escape to-day if I let you go into the town forcolours?"
"I make no promise, Ben-Ahmed. Yet this I may safely say, that I willnot try to clear off on my own account. Unless to save Hester I willnot at present try to escape; so far you may be sure of my return; butif I get the chance I will either rescue her or die for her--God helpingme."
The smile vanished from the Moor's lips as he turned, and said gravely--
"It is well, young man, that you confess to the true and only source ofall help. You Christians, as you call yourselves, have ever seemed tome unwilling to mention the name of God save when cursing your fellows,and then you misuse it glibly enough. Yet there are some among you whoare more consistent in their professions. Go, fulfil your commission.I will trust you."
"Thank you, Ben-Ahmed," returned the middy; "but remember, if I neverreturn, you will understand that I have not broken my word of honour."
The Moor bowed his head in acquiescence, and took a long pull at hispipe as the midshipman went away.
George Foster was half-way to the town before he recovered from hisastonishment at the strange and unexpected way in which Ben-Ahmed hadreceived his very plain speaking. He had expected that chains and thebastinado, if not worse, would certainly follow, but he had made up hismind to go through with it--if need be to die--for Hester's sake. Tofind himself, therefore, free to go where he pleased, and to help Hesterto escape if the opportunity to do so should come in his way, was anamazing state of things which he could scarcely bring himself tobelieve.
Of course, our hero had not the slightest expectation of encounteringHester that day, when he thus freed himself from his parole, and we needscarcely add that, even if he had met her, he could not have devised anysudden scheme for her deliverance. Nevertheless, the mere fact that hewas at liberty to act as he pleased in her behalf had such an effect onhim that he entered the town with a lighter heart than he had possessedfor many a day. Humming a nautical air as he walked along, and almostif not quite, for the moment, oblivious of the fact of his condition ofslavery, he became keenly interested in all that he saw as he passedthrough the crowded streets, now stopping to admire a picturesque groupof figures with jars and pitchers, awaiting their turn to draw waterfrom a public fountain, or pausing in front of a turner's shop toobserve with curiosity and interest, the deft way in which the workmanused his toes as well as his fingers in the operations of his trade.
He was thus engaged, in calm contemplation with his back to the street,when he was very slightly jostled by a passer-by. He scarcely noticedthe incident, but if he had known who it was that touched him he wouldnot have remained so placid, for it was Hester herself, in company withPeter the Great, on their way to the city walls.
As Hester's eyes were fixed on the ground and her thoughts on herfather, while Foster's attention was concentrated on the turner's toes,neither observed the other, but Peter's sharp eyes had noted the middy,and he hurried past to prevent a recognition, which might be awkward, ifnot dangerous, at the moment.
Presently Foster's attention was attracted by a Moor who was ridingalong the street, sitting side-wise as was the wont of Algerines of thetrading-class. What struck Foster particularly about this man and hisdonkey was that the latter was trotting very fast, although it was avery small animal, and the man on its back a very large one. He alsoobserved that the donkey tossed its head and put back its ears as if itwere suffering pain. As the Moor's hand rested on the donkey's haunch,the reason at once occurred to Foster, for he had noticed the same thingbefore. It was the practice, among cruel men, to create, and keep open,a small sore on the haunch of each animal, by irritating which with alittle bit of stick they managed to make their donkeys go in a way thata spur or a thick stick could not accomplish!
Now, our middy possessed a tender heart, which shrank sensitively fromthe idea of giving pain to any living creature, and which almostexploded with indignation at the sight of wanton cruelty to dumbanimals.
When, therefore, the Moor came alongside of him, Foster gave him a lookof tremendous indignation, at the same time exclaiming, "Shame on you!"
The Moor turned on him a look of mingled surprise and scorn. At thesame time muttering, "Christ
ian dog!" he brought a stick smartly down onthe middy's shoulders.
This was too much to bear meekly. The boiling blood in the youth'sheart boiled over into his face. He leaped forward, seized the donkey'srein with one hand, caught the man's left leg with the other, and hurledthe rider backward to the ground.
The bump with which the Moor's head came down had the effect of keepingit low, but the spectators of the incident, who were numerous, rushedupon the poor middy, seized him, and carried him straight to a court ofjustice.
They had a summary method of transacting business in those courts,especially in simple cases like that of which we treat. Theinvestigation was rapid; the evidence of the witnesses emphatic. Almostbefore he had recovered breath our hero was thrown down, his feet wereraised by two strong attendants, his shoes plucked off, and the soles ofhis feet made to tingle as if they had been set on fire.
After a few strokes, which he bore in silence, he was led to the commonprison, thrust into it, and left to his meditations.
Meanwhile, Peter the Great conducted Hester to that part of the citywall where her father was at work among the other slaves. It chanced tobe the hour when the wretched creatures were allowed to cease work for abrief space in order to rest and eat.
Poor Hugh Sommers chanced to have seated himself a little apart from theothers, so as to get the benefit of a large stone for a seat. Hisfigure was, therefore, prominent, as he sat there worn, weary, anddejected, consuming his allowance of black bread. Peter the Great knewhim at once, having already, as the reader knows, seen him in his slavegarb; but Hester's anxious eyes failed for a few moments to pick out theemaciated frame and strangely clad, ragged figure which represented heronce jovial, stalwart, and well-clothed father.
"Das him," whispered Peter, as he loosely grasped the girl's arm by wayof precaution.
"Where--oh, where?" asked the poor creature, glancing round among theslaves.
"Now, 'member your promise. Spoil eberyt'ing if you screech or run tohim. Look, dis way! De man what's settin' on de stone!"
"Yes, yes, I see! Oh--"
She stopped abruptly and trembled, for at the moment her father turnedhis woe-begone face unconsciously towards her. Even the much-increasedgrey tinge in the hair and beard, the lines of despair on the brow, andthe hollow cheeks could not disguise the face that she loved so well. Asharp cry burst from her, and she made an attempt to rush towards him,but the iron grip of Peter restrained her.
"It's a dead man he'll be if you do!" he said, in a stern but low tone."Don't you see de janissary? Your _promise_--"
"Yes, yes! I'll restrain myself _now_, Peter. Do let me stay aminute--just to look--"
"No, _no_! Come 'long wid you--idle t'ing!" he exclaimed, with suddenseverity, and apparent though not real violence, for at the moment hiswatchful eye had observed one of the slave guards approaching them.
As the two went hurriedly past the place where Hugh Sommers was sitting,he looked up with an expression of pity.
"Poor thing!" he said. "The black scoundrel is cruel to you, and I ampowerless to kick him!"
He clinked the fetters on his legs significantly as he spoke.
The mingled pathos and indignation of the loved voice was too much forpoor Hester. She was on the point of exclaiming "Father!" when Peter'sgreat black paw extinguished her mouth, and was not removed till theywere out of danger.
"You's like all de rest ob de womans," said the negro, as they hurriedthrough the streets; "awrful dif'cult to manidge. Come 'long, we'll gohome and hab a talk ober it."
Hester was too miserable to reply. She did not again speak till theywere both safe in the boudoir.
There she sat down on the bed, laid her face in her hands, and burstinto a passion of tears, while Peter stood looking on, his head nearlytouching the low ceiling, his bulky frame filling half the remainder ofthe little room, and two mighty unbidden tears in his great eyes.
"Das right, Geo'giana," he said, in a soft voice; "cry away, it'll doyou good. Nuffin like cryin' w'en you's fit to bust! An' w'en you'sgot it ober we'll talk all about it."
"Oh, Peter!" cried Hester, drying her eyes somewhat impatiently; "how_could_ you be so cruel? Why--why could you not have waited just oneminute to let me look at him?"
"Because, my dear, de man wid de whip was comin', an' he'd bery soon hablaid it across my back," replied the negro gently.
"And what if he had done so?" demanded Hester, with a slight touch ofindignation; "could you not have suffered a little whipping for mysake?"
"Yes, Geo'giana," returned Peter, with much humility, "I could suffergreat deal more'n dat for your sake; but dere's no sich t'ings as_little_ whippin's know'd ob in dis yar town. W'en de lash am goin' heusu'lly makes de hair fly. Moreober, dey whip womans as well as mans,an' if he was to took de bit out ob your pretty shoulder, I couldn'tsuffer dat, you know. Likewise," continued Peter, becoming moreargumentative in his manner, "you was just a-goin' to took de bit inyour teef; an' if you'd bin allowed to frow your arms round yourfadder's neck an' rub all de black ober his face what would hab bin deconsikence?"
Peter felt his position so strong at this point that he put the questionalmost triumphantly, and Hester was constrained to acknowledge that hehad acted wisely after all.
"But," continued she, with still a little of reproach in her tone, "whatwas the use of taking me to see my darling father at all, if this is allthat is to come of it?"
"You's a leetle obstropolous in you' fancies, Geo'giana. Dis am _not_all what's to come ob it. You see, I has pity on your poo' heart, so It'ink you might go ebery oder day an' hab a good look at your fadder;but how kin you go if you not know whar he works? So I tooked you toshow you de way. But I's a'most sorry I did now, for you's got noself-'straint, an' if you goes by you'self you'll git took up forsartin', an' dey'll whip your fadder till he's dead, or frow him on dehooks, or skin him alive, or--"
"Oh, horrible! Don't say such dreadful things, Peter!" exclaimedHester, covering her face with her hands.
Feeling that he had said quite enough to impress the poor girl with theabsolute necessity of being careful, he promised earnestly never againto allude to such dreadful things.
"But, Geo'giana," he added impressively, "you mus' promise me on yourword ob honour, w'ich Geo'ge Foster says English gen'lemans _neber_break--an' I s'pose he's right."
"Yes, quite right, Peter; true gentlemen _never_ break their word."
"An' I s'pose female gen'lemans am de same."
"Of course! Go on," replied the girl, with a faint smile.
"Well, as I was 'bout to say, you mus' promise me on your word obhonour, dat you'll neber go _alone_ to see your fadder, but allers incompany wid Sally; dat you neber, neber speak to him, an' dat you nebermake you'self know'd to him till de right time comes."
"These are hard conditions, Peter, but I see the reasonableness of themall, and promise--at least I promise to do my best."
"Das 'nuff, Geo'giana. Neezer man nor womans kin do more'n deir best.Now I mus' bid you good-day, so keep up your heart an' you'll seeeberyt'ing come right in de end."
With these cheering words the sympathetic negro took his leave; andHester, resuming her embroidery, sat down at her little window, not towork, but to gaze dreamily at the beautiful sea, and cast about in hermind how she should act in order to alleviate if possible her father'ssad condition.
That very afternoon she received a visit from her stolid butaffectionate friend Sally, who at once said that she knew of a splendidplan for doing him a great deal of good.
"And what is your plan?" asked Hester eagerly.
"Gib him two or t'ree biscuits," said Sally.
Her friend received the suggestion with a look of disappointment.
"What a stupid thing you are, Sally! How could that do him any good?"
Sally looked at her friend with an air of pity.
"Didn't you say he was awrful t'in?" she asked.
"Thin? Oh yes--dreadfully thin."
"Well, den, isn't dat 'cause he not hab 'nuff to eat? _I_ knows it,bress you! I's bin wid a missis as starved me. Sometimes I t'ink Icould eat my shoes. Ob course I got awrful t'in--so t'in dat w'en Istood side-wise you could hardly see me. Well, what de way to get fatan' strong? Why, eat, ob course. Eat--eat--eat. Das de way. Now,your fadder git not'ing but black bread, an' not 'nuff ob dat; an' hegit plenty hard work too, so he git t'in. So, what I prupposes is togib him two good biskits ebery day. We couldn't gib him more'n two,'cause he'd hab to hide what he couldn't eat at once, an' de driverswould be sure to diskiver 'em. But two biskits could be gobbled quickon de sly, an' would help to make him fat, an' to make you easy."
"So they would," said Hester, eagerly entertaining the idea after thisexplanation; "you're a clever girl, Sally--"
"You say I's stoopid jest now!"
"So I did, Sally. Forgive me! I was stupid besides unkind for sayingso. But how shall we manage it? Won't the guards see us doing it?"
"No fear, Geo'giana! De guards am fools--t'ink dere's nobody like 'em.Dey forgit. All de asses in Algiers am like 'em. Dis de way ob it.You an' me we'll go to markit ebery day wid baskits on our arms, anwe'll ob course go round by de walls, where your fadder works. No doubtit's a roundabout way, but what ob dat? We'll go at de hour your fadderfeeds wid de oder slabes, an' as we pass we'll drop de two biskits inhis lap."
"But won't he be taken by surprise, Sally?"
"De fust time--yes; but dat won't prevent him gobblin' up de biskitsquick. Neber fear, you an' me'll manidge it 'tween us."
"Thank you, dear Sally, I'll never, _never_ forget your kindness, and wewill try your plan to-morrow."