ardour, “Thou hast the heart of a knight: should we ever reach
Portugal, claim knighthood at my hand. But I cannot accept of freedom
on such terms; too many gallant soldiers have already been sacrificed
by my imprudent reliance on the faith of a traitor: neither the lives
nor the properties of my subjects shall be lavished to purchase my
liberty. If these wretches knew my real rank, half my kingdom would not
satisfy their avarice. No! let us trust to Providence.--I will watch
the opportune moment like a lynx. I will try every method to bribe my
gaolers--if I escape at last, be assured, Gaspar, I will remember you.”
Gaspar was going to press his former petition, when the sound of
Ben Tarab’s horrid voice made him stop: “We must part, sire,” he
exclaimed, “haste--mix with the crowd--we meet again to-morrow night.”
While speaking, he hurried the King out of the house, and they were
immediately absorbed by the multitude without.
Ben Tarab kept at a distance from Sebastian, who could not help smiling
at his mixture of ferocity and meanness: it was soon bed time; and the
slaves, separating, the King retired to a scattering of bean-straw in
the corner of a brick-room, where he threw himself beside four other
captives, and sunk, overpowered with sleep.
The break of day awoke him to the same toil, and the hour of supper
again allowed him a short conversation with Gaspar. Every day brought
with it but fresh causes for regret, while it diminished the delusions
of hope. But where is the situation, however desolate, out of which it
is impossible for us to extract some consolation? Sebastian found in
his present state, a balm for part of that remorse which had so long
tormented him.
While experiencing the benevolence of Abensallah, he had naturally
thought with so much esteem of the Moorish character, that his
expedition appeared almost preposterous, and the destruction attendant
on it, doubly criminal; but now that he witnessed the real miseries
of slavery, and the detestableness of a tyrannical government, which
habituates every individual to the exercise of tyranny in his turn,
zeal once more assumed the rank of a virtue, and lulled conscience to
rest.--In addition to this, his own sufferings were softened by the
power he fortunately acquired of alleviating those of others.
Among the garden-labourers were two aged men, for whom he frequently
procured rest and refreshment, by fulfilling not only his own task, but
part of theirs: when he saw them fainting with thirst and exhaustion,
he would give them all that he had purposely saved from his scanty
breakfast; their blessings were his luxuries, his only luxuries, but
such as warmed his heart far beyond all the enjoyments of his former
state.
Never till now had he known the full transport of doing good, for
never before had he done so at the expense of personal privations:
sovereigns, like gods, may scatter bounties with unsparing hands, yet
never have this sacred, soul-ennobling consciousness. Ought we then to
envy, ah! should we not rather pity that exalted station which demands
from its possessor so many cares, and rewards him with so few pleasures!
Though the governor of the gardens knew no other language than his own,
Sebastian managed to converse with him by signs, and to conciliate
his favour: from the instant in which he found himself capable of
benefitting the distressed, his servitude ceased to appear degrading,
and he toiled incessantly; his strength and his taste made him
inestimable; and by voluntary labour or ingenious plans of decoration,
he soon won so much on Hafiz, that he gained frequent intervals of rest
for his fellow slaves.
They were now employed in constructing and adorning a subterraneous
passage, in imitation of a natural grotto: there Sebastian amused
himself with a thousand tasteful fancies which enchanted the dull
Hafiz, and procured for him new proofs of kindness: from this success
his endeavours to please acquired fresh stimulus; he redoubled his
efforts, hoping to win so far upon the Moor, as at last to gain liberty
through this means.
After each day’s fatigue, the supper-hour was always welcome; it
brought him into the society of Gaspar. The conversation of his humble
friend was now Sebastian’s chief pleasure, for with him he felt himself
Sebastian still; sympathy of suffering, gratitude for affection, and
esteem of native goodness, united to heighten this pleasure: he talked
with Gaspar of Portugal and liberty, of days past and days to come,
with all the ardour of unbroken youth.
Gaspar, in return, canvassed every possible mode of escape, continuing
to bewail the fate which separated him from his King: he was, however,
inspirited by some information lately obtained--it was as follows: at
certain periods the Moors permitted a few travelling friars, called
brothers of the redemption, to inspect their slaves, and to agree for
the ransom of such as they wished redeemed; one of these charitable
men, a native of Spain, was expected at Mequinez, by the next new moon;
but the Almoçadem having resolved never to sell any of his slaves,
had always refused to admit the friar, so that it would be necessary
for Sebastian to exert all his eloquence upon Hafiz, for him either
to petition the Almoçadem himself, or to let the friar know there was
a Portuguese nobleman under his care, who would reward him amply for
importuning El Hader in his favour.
This information roused the sanguine nature of Sebastian; he believed
himself already on the threshold of liberty, and faithfully swore to
Gaspar that he would not accept of freedom without him for a companion.
Intoxicated with joy, and overflowing with devotedness, the young
Portuguese fell at his sovereign’s feet, pouring forth a broken torrent
of gratitude: Gaspar had been early taught to reverence and obey his
King, and now the amiable qualities of that King, being shewn to him
under the most affecting light, added to the principle of duty, every
sentiment of affection.
At this moment, while kissing the earth beneath Sebastian’s feet, he
was inwardly meditating a rash enterprize, full of danger, but fraught
with heroism: expecting little from Hafiz, Gaspar meant only to wait
till one attempt to gain him had been made and frustrated, and then he
would immediately execute his own project. His work lay in the open
country, where he was employed with other slaves in felling timber;
there were periods when the Moors who guarded them, were scattered
about, and therefore to be escaped, without instant notice: if Gaspar
could get the start of them by a single half-hour (being very swift of
foot, and well acquainted with a bye-road to Mequinez, where he had
often gone with loaded waggons) he might hope to reach the friar, and
communicate the secret of Don Sebastian’s existence.
Gaspar was certain that in pursuing him the Moors would first
look among the woods and hills leading to the interior, and that
consequently, though he was almost sure of falling eventually into
their hands, his object would be attained: the friar would convey the
important news to the christian forts, from thence it would be speedily
transmitted to Portugal and Spain, and then he doubted not, an army or
a ransom, would be sent to redeem their King.
Some anxiety however, was still connected with his enterprize, even if
it should succeed: as Gaspar would hazard it without his royal master’s
knowledge, he could not bear any proof of his veracity, such as a
ring or piece of writing; he must rely solely on the sincerity of his
manner, and on that natural desire of crediting what we wish, which is
implanted in the human heart.
To disobey his sovereign on such an important point, he justly
conceived a duty due to his country; for Gaspar, though born in the
sixteenth century, had an intuitive conviction that his country’s
claims were superior even to the commands of her rulers.
Filled with this daring project, the young soldier arose from his
monarch’s feet with an illuminated countenance: a few moments after
they separated for their different chambers.
The only indulgence which Sebastian had asked for himself, was the
privilege of passing his nights in a solitary apartment, this request
had been granted, with many assurances of its being an immense favour:
he now repaired to the place, which was a small room, scarcely large
enough to turn in, with a barred window and a straw bed. As he entered
it with an emotion of pleasure, the change of his destiny forcibly
struck him: what a cell for a King of Portugal, and the lover of Donna
Gonsalva to behold with gladness!
He went up to the narrow window, and as his eye fell on nothing but
the dark dwellings of the slaves, faintly lighted by the rays of a
watry moon, he looked from them to himself, and sighed profoundly.
Not three months back, he had worn the habit, and been surrounded by
the glories of a powerful prince; he had been ministered unto like a
god, till the most exquisite refinements of polished life had become
natural wants; he was now a slave, clad in coarse garments, denied the
common necessaries of his poorest subjects, forced to labour without
intermission through the day, and at night be immured in a wretched
chamber, where solitude was his only comfort!
For awhile, thought took so gloomy a cast, that he felt as if all that
sunny period of his life had been no more than a dream. The memory of
Stukeley appeared but the memory of some brilliant phantom; his rousing
eloquence, that had always acted on the soul of Sebastian like the
sound of the trumpet, was now passed away, his voice was hushed, his
body gone down to dust!
Nothing gives such apparent length to any portion of time, as a
complete change in outward scenes and inward feelings. Sebastian was
scarcely able to persuade himself that all these new emotions had
been produced by the events of so short a period as three months; he
reviewed the incidents which had happened since his landing in Africa,
with a bitterness of regret which was at length dispersed by the idea
of Gaspar: in this faithful friend, providence was evidently preparing
for him a zealous assistant; at any rate, if his attachment might not
aid, it would assuredly console him, and was therefore to be gratefully
accepted as a sort of earnest of the divine succour.
Elevated by this thought, Sebastian’s feelings changed with their usual
rapidity, joy lightened his heart, and pouring out a fervent prayer
over the little cross of his order, (which he still preserved,) laid
himself to rest with the confidence of pious reliance.
CHAP. VI.
As Gaspar was sure of learning from the good-natured Moor who had
spoken to him of the redemption friars, when father Mansonada would
be at Mequinez, he had cautioned the King not to put the absolute
question to Hafiz, before the friar’s arrival was actually announced,
but to employ the intermediate period in gaining his good will, urging
the request at the time when it must be either instantly refused or
granted: this precaution would leave no time for repentance.
Pursuant to this prudent resolution, the King continued to exert his
strength and his talents in every work given him by Hafiz: under his
hands the uncouth earthen passage grew into a romantic labyrinth,
diversified by spars and mosses, and hung with natural garlands of
flowering plants. Often while he was placing a stone or a shrub, he
smiled bitterly at what to him seemed womanish employment, and was
forced to remember that no occupation is disgraceful which is submitted
to for a great and virtuous purpose.
Having acquired many of the Morocco words, he was now able to hold
short conversations with Hafiz, who though grave, and somewhat dull,
was not insensible to merit; he liberally praised Sebastian, and for
his sake granted new indulgences to sickly slaves.
Sebastian marked his increasing influence with re-animated hope:
having his eye fixed but on one object, (freedom, in which every
blessing is included,) he disregarded all else, distributing among his
fellow captives such presents of dress and delicate food, as Hafiz
occasionally made him.
But the satisfaction arising from these circumstances was considerably
diminished by an unforseen distress; Gaspar was taken ill: he had been
unusually fatigued lately, during an insufferably burning day; and at
night, had slept on some marshy ground with other Christians, who were
all attacked the following morning with illness:--The disorder seized
his lungs. From that hour a suffocating cough and slow fever preyed
on his strength. At all times delicate, he now lost his appetite and
sleep; and appeared hastening fast to that world “where the weary are
at rest.”
Afflicted beyond measure, his royal friend no longer thought of
exerting any influence over Hafiz for his own peculiar gratification,
but tried to use it for Gaspar; he represented his situation in the
most moving terms, soliciting the Moor to get him transferred from
the fields into the gardens, where he promised to work in his place,
allowing himself no instant of recreation through the day, and but
four hours of rest at night.--His importunities at length wrung from
Hafiz a promise that he would go and solicit the Almoçadem’s leave for
the transfer.
Sebastian communicated this to Gaspar with all the ardour of pleasure,
the latter turned pale and faltered out an exclamation of regret;
painfully disappointed, Sebastian enquired the reason of this
disinclination to be near him, and soon found, from the generous
soldier, that it arose from concern at the sacrifices which he must
make on his account.
This indeed was part of the truth; but the most powerful cause was
alarm at a removal, which however agreeable to Gaspar, would put
it out of his power to serve his master: from the gardens he could
not attempt escape without involving him in his ruin should he be
retaken, and therefore it was necessary for him to wait no longer a
return of health, but seize this last opportunity of flying from the
fields.--Perhaps another day would close the door of freedom for ever,
as Hafiz, who had been sent for to Mequinez by the Almoçadem, might
return ere night: this thought determined Gaspar.
Many and violent were his emotions when he parted from his beloved
master at the door of their cheerless lodging; the poor fellow felt
death at his heart, and scarcely knew how to hope for sufficient
strength to carry him to Mequinez, where, however, the arrival of
friar Mansonada was now happily ascertained. He fastened his eyes on
the countenance of Sebastian with the most sorrowful expression; the
benign smile that sat there, revived him for an instant, but fearful of
betraying any unusual agitation, he retired without speaking.
The next day Hafiz did not return, and at night Sebastian was surprized
by the non-appearance of Gaspar; concluding that he was cruelly kept
out at distant labour, he began to grow impatient for the sight of
Hafiz: still the governor returned not, and the next night and the one
following that Gaspar, too was absent.
Disturbed and alarmed, Sebastian approached a French Christian with
whom he had once seen Gaspar enter from work, and asked the man, in his
own language, what had become of him: the answer overwhelmed him with
grief.
Gaspar had attempted to escape two days before, while the wood-slaves
were dispersed, and their guards carousing; he had got half way to
Mequinez when he was overtaken by two of the Moors, who having heard
him question another about the Friars Redemptione, guessed which way
he was going. After a short struggle, a wound in the leg brought
Gaspar to the ground, and rendered resistance impossible; he was now
in the prison of the Cassavee, where Ben Tarab threatened him with the
extremity of the bastinado that very night.
Sebastian too quickly comprehended the motive of his friend’s rash
action; penetrated with gratitude and sorrow, he flew to the dark
building called the prison, intreating to be admitted, and offering
extravagant rewards to the Moors who guarded it:--Sebastian could not
always remember that he was no longer able to reward any one!--But
these vain promises were no sooner past his lips, than he disclaimed
them, with a stifled groan, and turned once more to intreaties.
The brutal Ben Tarab advanced cautiously, “You see I am armed;” was
his salutation, (pointing to a pair of huge pistols in his belt, and
drawing out a Moorish knife,) “in that case you dare not touch me:
what is all this tumult about?--is it because the dog is a Portuguese
like yourself?--or because you are colleagues? By the holy prophet!
I believe you deserve as sound a bastinadoing as he does. If he dies
under the thong, this night he shall receive a thousand lashes. Get
you to your sleeping hole, and pretend not to thwart a Mussulman in his
duty.”
Without replying, Sebastian shot an eagle glance round, as if in search
of something, the next instant he darted forwards, and snatching up a
hatchet which lay accidentally among some rubbish, flashed it in the
eyes of Ben Tarab.
“I too am armed!” he exclaimed fiercely, “approach but one step
nearer and this hatchet shall lay you dead at my feet.--I can die but
once--yet if I _do_ fall, I will sell my life dearly.--Mark me! the man
who takes Gaspar to punishment from this prison must cut his way to him
through my heart.”
As he concluded, the stern frown of the young monarch withered Ben
Tarab’s courage, he drew back trembling, and tried to pull out one
of his pistols; Sebastian saw the action, and sprung on him like a
tiger; his powerful grasp pinioned the arms of the Moor, who believing
himself in the very gripe of death, cried out for mercy: before any
one could come to his rescue, Sebastian flung him disdainfully away,
saying--
“Take your worthless life--I want nothing beyond pity for a poor
dying man. Suffer me unmolested to keep watch before this prison till
Hafiz returns; then let the punishment of Gaspar be referred to the
Almoçadem: you will appear against him, I shall plead for him, I hope
from the lips of the humane Hafiz.”
Livid and trembling, Ben Tarab now sheltered himself behind a group
of Moors who had run in to his assistance: conscious that Sebastian
was indeed only to be conquered by death, and aware of the high value
set on him by El Hader, he feared to order the violence his base soul
longed to inflict.
“Stay then,” he cried at last, “Stay! and may plagues blister you for
your pains!--There you may watch and fast, for neither bed nor meal
shall you have till Hafiz comes back and rids me of you altogether.
Soldiers, take care he is not too subtle for you; look to him
well.”--So saying, Ben Tarab left the court, shutting its huge stone
gates after him, with a rage that threatened to crash them.
Sebastian grasped his hatchet and sat quietly down upon the steps of
the prison, while two Moorish guards walked backwards and forwards,
discoursing about this mad Christian, who would certainly be condemned
to the rack by their illustrious master.
In this situation, full of agitating thoughts, the King of Portugal
past the night: fortunately for him, Hafiz returned the next day, and
having missed Sebastian in the gardens, came to inquire for him of
Ben Tarab; that brutal fellow related the events of the last few days
with all the exaggerations of inveterate animosity, sending Hafiz to
threaten his favorite slave with a chain or a log.
Sebastian’s character was one of extremes; he was alternately the
fiercest and the gentlest of mankind; where he saw the trace of
humanity he could quell every movement of passion, and enter into the
calmest and most considerate explanations: he now let the wrath of
Hafiz take its course, waiting till it was spent, before he expatiated
upon the natural love we bear our countrymen; and the impossibility of
refraining from some shew of violence when any object whom we sincerely
love is threatened with danger. The poor dying youth being menaced with
the bastinado, was, on this reasoning, a sufficient plea for his own
vehemence.
Sebastian mingled these with strong appeals to that sentiment of
Liberty which he presumed dwelt in the bosom of Hafiz, in common with
every honest man, he besought his pity;--and finished by declaring,
that if Gaspar perished, neither whips nor daggers should ever compel
_him_ to any act of labour.
All these arguments had their weight, but especially the last; Hafiz
feared to lose the very flower of his workmen, and therefore promised
to go immediately to Kara Aziek, the daughter of El Hader, and try
to obtain Gaspar’s pardon from her: this favorite and only surviving
child of the Almoçadem had come that morning from Mequinez, merely
to see the subterraneous labyrinth, and having been enchanted with
its novelty and beauty, Hafiz hoped might be induced to pronounce the
desired forgiveness. Hastening away, he returned in a short time with
the Moorish Lady’s order for the release and removal of Gaspar.
Penetrated with gratitude proportionate to his late apprehension,
Sebastian vehemently thanked the good Moor, and went with him into the
prison.
As they approached the dungeon in which Gaspar was, his feeble groans
alone broke the sullen silence; he was the only human being who had
slept in that dismal place during three nights, and might have
perished there, without even the hope of succour: at the sound of
his royal master’s voice, he slowly raised his head, and supported
himself for an instant; but he sunk again, overpowered with pain and
weakness.--Sebastian hastened to catch him on his breast, while Hafiz
assured him he was pardoned, and going to be removed entirely from the
influence of Ben Tarab.
The prejudiced yet well-meaning Moor accompanied this information with
several animadversions upon the folly and ingratitude of attempting an
escape from a residence where all the slaves were treated like trusty
servants; bidding him remember, that as it was solely for Fabian’s
sake he was forgiven, a second fault would draw Fabian into the same
destruction.
Gaspar could only reply by a submissive motion of the head, for a
merciless neglect of sending him food had rendered him so weak he could
scarcely speak; he was besides too joyful for utterance; but he held
his sovereign’s hand alternately to his lips and to his heart, with an
energy of gratitude that needed no additional eloquence.
The wound in Gaspar’s leg was more painful that it appeared dangerous,
so that Sebastian trusted he might yet recover both from it and his
pulmonary complaint, if properly nursed, and kept for awhile from
labouring amongst evening and morning mists:--he now made an earnest
petition to Hafiz for permission to inhabit some chamber adjoining that
allotted to Gaspar, in order that he might be thus enabled to devote
every leisure moment to his suffering friend.
After long resisting, Hafiz reluctantly yielded; first stipulating some
new exercise of his favorite’s ingenuity, by way of equivalent:--Gaspar
was then conveyed to another quarter of the Cassavee, where the
household slaves are lodged, and a small but not wretched apartment was
assigned to him.
His wound was examined, and his internal disorder prescribed for, by a
skilful renegado who acted as family physician and surgeon; Sebastian
would fain have staid to assist this man, but Gaspar himself could not
bear the thought of so employing his King, and Hafiz now waited for him
at the labyrinth.
Eager to repay the worthy Moor’s kindness by increased diligence,
Sebastian hurried into the gardens; all his generous and delighted
heart beamed on his noble countenance as he moved through the verdant
groves and lawns leading to the grotto; as he was hastily advancing,
he was checked by an unusual sight: a group of Moorish women were just
issuing from the entrance.
Rightly conjecturing that these were the Almoçadem’s daughter and her
attendants, he drew back: one of the ladies was richly habited after
the Morocco fashion, in a kaftan and turban embroidered with coloured
silks and precious stones; her mildly superior air declared her to be
Kara Aziek: she drew her veil closer at sight of a man, but stopping
at the same time, said a few words to Hafiz in a very soft voice.
Sebastian ventured to advance; he bent one knee to the ground, making
a sign expressive of gratitude; Kara Aziek courteously motioned him to
rise, and then moved away: but she frequently looked back as she went,
and on turning into another walk, graciously noticed him still, by a
gentle inclination of her head.