SHOWS THE LIGHT IN WHICH CONSULS WERE REGARDED BY PIRATES, AND TELLS OF
A CRUEL SEPARATION AND A STUNNING BLOW.
Seated on a throne in a recess of the audience-chamber of the palace,
Achmet Pasha at length condescended to receive Don Pedro, the
representative of Spain.
The Dey was robed in barbaric splendour, and absolutely shone with gold
embroidery and precious stones. Centuries of robbery on the high seas
had filled the treasury of the pirates' nest to overflowing, not only
with hard cash, but with costly gems of all kinds, hence there was a
lavish expenditure of jewellery on the costumes of the Dey and his wives
and courtiers.
The recess in which he sat had a dome-ceiling, of workmanship so
elaborate that there was not a square inch of unadorned stucco on any
part of it. It was lighted partly from the roof by means of four minute
windows, of yellow, crimson, green, and blue glass. The walls were
decorated with coloured china tiles, and the floor was paved with white
marble.
In front of the throne or elevated dais couched the magnificent lion
which we have already mentioned. It was the Dey's whim to use this
animal as a footstool on all public occasions, much to the annoyance of
his courtiers and household, who felt, although they did not dare to
express it, considerable anxiety lest it should take a sudden fancy to
feed on human flesh.
Behind the Dey stood several guards, two of whom were negroes.
Don Pedro bowed low on being admitted, and the lion, raising his head,
uttered a low growl, which had something distantly thunderous in the
tone. Being apparently satisfied that the Don was a friend, it again
laid its chin on its paws and appeared to go to sleep.
The Spanish consul was a fine-looking, dignified man, with a nose
sufficiently prominent to account for the irreverent reference made to
it by Hadji Baba, the story-teller.
In a few words he stated his case touching the female captives recently
brought in by Sidi Hassan, and claimed that, as Spanish subjects, they
should be set free and placed under his care.
"What proof can you give," demanded the Dey, "that these ladies are
really the subjects of Spain?"
"Alas!" replied Don Pedro, "I have no means of verifying what I say; but
I feel assured that your highness will not doubt my word, when I say
that, while in my own land, I knew the family to which they belong."
"That is not sufficient," returned the Dey. "From all that I can learn,
their father lived and died and they were born, in Sicily, and the
eldest is the wife of an Italian merchant, who will doubtless be glad to
pay a good ransom to get her and his little infant back. As to the
sister, we can find room for her in the palace, if she be not ransomed.
Besides, Monsieur le Console,"--here the Dey spoke sternly--"your word
is not a good guarantee. Did you not give me your word three months ago
that your government would pay the six thousand dollars which are still
due to us? Why has not this promise been fulfilled?"
"It grieves me, your highness," replied Don Pedro, with a mortified
look, "that this debt has not yet been discharged, but I can assure you
that I have communicated with my Sovereign on the subject and have no
doubt that a satisfactory explanation and reply will be sent to you
without delay."
"It is to be hoped that such may be the case, for I give you _my_ word--
and you may safely rely on _it_--that if the cash is not sent to me
immediately I will send you to work in chains in the quarries with the
other slaves.--Go, let your Sovereign know my intention as speedily as
may be."
Lest the reader should be surprised to hear of any consul being thus
cavalierly treated, it may be well to explain that the barbarians, who
were thus unworthily honoured in being recognised by the European powers
at all, were grossly ignorant of the usages of civilised nations, and of
the sacred character in which the persons and families of consuls are
held. The Deys of Algiers were constantly in the habit of threatening
the consuls themselves with flagellation and death, in order to obtain
what they desired from their respective governments, and sometimes even
carried their threats into execution--as an instance of which we may
cite the well-authenticated fact that when the French Admiral Duquesne
bombarded Algiers, the consul and twenty-two other Frenchmen were sent
out to the fleet in small pieces--blown from the mouths of cannon!
True, this was in the year 1683, but up to the very end of their bloody
and ferocious domination, the Deys maintained their character for
ignorance and barbarity--evidence of which shall be given in the sequel
of our tale.
When Don Pedro had been thus ignominiously dismissed, Sidi Hassan was
sent for by the Dey. This man was one of the most turbulent characters
in the city, and the Dey thought it his wisest policy to secure his
friendship if possible by mingling kindness with severity. In the event
of this course failing, he comforted himself with the reflection that it
would not be difficult to get rid of him by the simple, and too
frequently used, process of strangulation. The knowledge that Hassan
was a favourite among the Turkish troops prevented his at once adopting
the latter method.
He was all urbanity and smiles, therefore, when the pirate captain
obeyed his summons. He thanked him for the two pretty slave-girls he
had brought in, commended him for his success in taking prizes, and
added that he had appointed him to fill the office of attendant
janissary upon the British consul.
Up to this point Sidi Hassan had listened with satisfaction, but the
appointment just offered seemed to him so contemptible that he had
difficulty in dissembling his feelings. The knowledge, however, that
his despotic master held his life in his hand, induced him to bow and
smile, as if with gratitude.
"And now," said the Dey, "I have a commission for you. Go to the
British consul, tell him of your appointment, and present him with my
compliments and with the eldest slave-girl and her infant as a gift from
me. Paulina is her name, is it not?"
"Yes, your highness--Paulina Ruffini, and the sister's name is Angela
Diego."
"Good. Angela you may keep to yourself," continued the Dey, as coolly
as if he had been talking of a silver snuff-box.
Hassan again bowed and smiled, and again had to constrain his
countenance to express gratification, though he was not a little
disgusted with Achmet's indifference to the captive girls.
Leaving the palace in a state of high indignation, he resolved to sell
Angela in the public market, although by so doing he could not hope to
gain so much as would have been the case were he to have disposed of her
by private bargain. Thus, with strange perversity, does an angry man
often stand in the way of his own interests.
We need scarcely say that, when their fate was announced to the unhappy
sisters, they were plunged into a state of wild grief, clung to each
other's necks, and refused to be separated.
Little did Sidi Hassan care for their grief. He tore them asunder,
locked Paulina up with her infant, and led the weeping Angela to the
slave-market, which was in the immediate neighbourhood of one of the
largest mosques of the city.
This mosque, named Djama Djedid, still stands, under the name of the
Mosquee de la Pecherie, one of the most conspicuous and picturesque
buildings in Algiers. It was built in the seventeenth century by a
Genoese architect, a slave, who, unfortunately for himself built it in
the form of a cross, for which he was put to death by the reigning Dey.
In front of the northern door of this mosque the narrow streets of the
city gave place to a square, in which was held the market for Christian
slaves.
Here might be seen natives of almost every country--men and women and
children of all ages and complexions, civilised and uncivilised, gentle
and simple--exposed for sale; while turbaned Turks, Moors in broad-cloth
burnouses and gay vestments, Jews in dark costume, Arabs from the
desert, and men of nondescript garments and character, moved about,
criticising, examining, buying, and selling.
Just as Sidi Hassan reached the market, a gang of Christian slaves were
halted near the door of the mosque. It was evening. They had been
toiling all day at the stone-quarries in the mountains, and were now on
their way, weary, ragged, and foot-sore, to the Bagnio, or prison, in
which were housed the public slaves--those not sold to private
individuals, but retained by government and set to labour on the public
works.
A few of these slaves wore ponderous chains as a punishment for having
been unruly--the others were unshackled. Among them stood our
unfortunate friends Francisco Rimini and his sons Lucien and Mariano--
but ah! how changed! Only two days had elapsed since their arrival, yet
their nearest friends might have failed to recognise them, so
dishevelled were they, and their faces so covered with dust and
perspiration. For their own garments had been substituted ragged shirts
and loose Turkish drawers reaching to below the knee. Old straw hats
covered their heads, but their lower limbs and feet were naked; where
not stained by blood and dust, the fairness of their skins showed how
little they had been used to such exposure. Lucien's countenance wore
an expression of hopeless despair; that of his father, which was wont to
look so bluff and hearty, now betrayed feelings of the tenderest pity,
as if he had forgotten his own sufferings in those of his children.
Mariano, on the contrary, looked so stubborn and wicked that no one
could have believed it possible he had ever been a gay, kindly,
light-hearted youth! Poor fellow! his high spirit had been severely
tried that day, but evidently not tamed, though the blood on the back of
his shirt showed that his drivers had made vigorous attempts to subdue
him. During the heat of the day Lucien had grown faint from toil and
hunger, and had received a cruel lash from one of their guardians. This
had roused Mariano. He had sprung to avenge the blow, had been seized
by three powerful men, lashed until he became insensible, and, on
recovering, had been forced to continue his toil of carrying stones
until not only all the strength, but apparently all the spirit, was
taken out of him.
From this condition he was reviving slightly when he reached the
market-place, and, as his strength returned, the firm pressure of his
lips and contraction of his brows increased.
The slave-drivers were not slow to observe this, and two of them took
the precaution to stand near him. It was at this critical moment that
the poor youth suddenly beheld Angela Diego led into the market--more
interesting and beautiful than ever in her sorrow--to be sold as a
slave.
Mariano had been deeply touched by the sorrow and sad fate of the
sisters when he first saw them on board the pirate-vessel. At this
sight of the younger sister, prudence, which had retained but a slight
hold of him during the day, lost command altogether. In a burst of
uncontrollable indignation he sent one of his guards crashing through
the open doorway of the mosque, drove the other against the corner of a
neighbouring house, rushed towards Sidi Hassan, and delivered on the
bridge of that hero's nose a blow that instantly laid him flat on the
ground. At the same moment he was seized by a dozen guards, thrown
down, bound, and carried off to the whipping-house, where he was
bastinadoed until he felt as if bones and flesh, were one mass of
tingling jelly. In this state, almost incapable of standing or walking,
he was carried to the Bagnio, and thrown in among the other prisoners.
While Mariano was being conveyed away, Sidi Hassan arose in a
half-stupefied condition from the ground. Fortunately he was ignorant
of who had knocked him down, and why he had been so treated, or he might
have vented his wrath on poor Angela.
Just at that moment he was accosted by Bacri the Jew--a convenient butt
on whom to relieve himself; for the despised Israelites were treated
with greater indignity in Algiers at that time than perhaps in any other
part of the earth.
"Dog," said he fiercely, "hast thou not business enough of thine own in
fleecing men, that thou shouldst interfere with me?"
"Dog though I may be," returned Bacri, with gravity, but without a touch
of injured feeling, "I do not forget that I promised you four thousand
dollars to spare the Christians, and it is that which induces me to
intrude on you now."
"Humph!" ejaculated Hassan, somewhat mollified; "I verily believe that
thou hast some interested and selfish motive at the bottom. However,
that business is thine, not mine."
"Whether my motive be interested or not you are well able to judge,"
returned Bacri gently, "for the slaves are poor and helpless; they are
also Christians, and you know well that the Jews have no love for the
Christians; in which respect it seems to me that they bear some
resemblance to the men of other creeds."
Sidi Hassan felt that there was an intended sarcasm in the last remark,
but the thought of the dollars induced him to waive further discussion.
"Do you wish to sell the girl?" said Bacri in a casual way, as though it
had just occurred to him.
"Ay, but I must have a good price for her," replied the Turk.
"Name it," said the Jew; "my wife has need of a handmaiden just now."
Hassan named a sum much larger than he had any expectation the Jew would
give. To his surprise, the other at once agreed to it.
"Why, Bacri," he said, with a smile, as with his right hand he tenderly
caressed his injured nose, "you must have been more than usually
successful in swindling of late."
"God has recently granted me more than deserved prosperity," returned
the other.
Without further palaver the bargain was struck. Hassan accompanied the
Jew to his residence in one of the quaint Moorish houses of the old
town. Angela was handed over to Bacri's wife, a pleasant-visaged woman
of forty, and Hassan returned home with his pockets well lined, his nose
much swelled, and his temper greatly improved.
Bethinking him of the Dey's commands, he set out with Paulina and her
infant for the residence of the British consul, which lay a short
distance outside the northern wall of the town, not far from the bluff
height on which, at the present day, towers the picturesque pile of
Notre-Dame d'Afrique.