The short twilight of southern latitudes was giving place to the shades
of night, when Bacri the Jew issued from the low door of his house, and
threaded the narrow labyrinth of streets which compose the old town of
Algiers.
The greater part of the old, or, as it is styled, the Moorish town,
remains almost exactly the same at the present time that it was at the
time of which our tale treats. It occupied the face of a steep hill,
and was built in the form of a triangle, the apex being a fort, or
"casba," near the summit of the hill. The base was a street of oriental
houses upwards of half a mile in extent, beyond which the sea-wall, well
lined with batteries, rose directly from the beach, and was washed by
the spray in every breeze. All the houses facing the sea have now been
taken down, and their places are occupied by wide handsome streets of
French buildings; the beach and the site of the old wall being occupied
by splendid quays, wharves, and terraces.
The houses of the Moorish town were square white-washed blocks, built so
close to each other that most of the streets were mere lanes, not more
than from six to ten feet wide. No windows worthy of the name garnished
the dead white walls of these houses, whose light sprang in reality from
within, each house being in the form of a square of building surrounding
a central court, which at the top was open to the weather. The real
windows of the houses looked into the courts, which, however, were by no
means dismal. They had fountains in the midst of them, which sent up a
perpetual--and, in such a climate, grateful--sound of trickling water;
while in their corners and elsewhere boxes of earth enabled
banana-trees, and palms, and various creepers, to convert the little
spots into delightful, though miniature, gardens. Such windows as
opened outwards were mere loop-holes, not much more than a foot square--
many of them less,--the larger of them being always strongly grated.
Most of these houses projected beyond their basement storeys, thus
rendering the open space above narrower than the streets below, and in
many cases the walls absolutely met, and converted the streets into
tunnels. Strange wooden props, seemingly insufficient for their duty,
upheld these projecting upper storeys, and gave a peculiarly un-European
character to the streets,--a character which became still more
perplexing to the stranger when he observed here and there, in places
where architecture had scarcely space or light to be seen, fountains of
the most elegant design and workmanship; doorways of white marble, most
elaborately and beautifully carved; and entrance-halls that resembled
courts of the Alhambra in miniature.
When one first sees such things they induce surprise, but the surprise
evaporates when we reflect that these pirates had at their command the
services of thousands of slaves, many of whom represented the artistic
talent of the civilised world.
Passing rapidly along these narrow streets, and bending his tall form
when he came to low archways, Bacri at length emerged on the chief "high
street" of the town, which, entering at the north, or Bab-el-Oued gate,
completely traversed the city under that name as far as the Dey's
palace, where it changed its name to Bab-Azoun, and terminated at the
south gate of the same name.
In this street was the Bagnio, already mentioned as being the prison of
the government slaves.
Here Bacri paused, drew a glittering coin from his pocket, and knocked
at a strong oaken door. A janissary opened, and roughly demanded his
business, but changed his tone at once and gave the Jew admission, on
receiving the coin.
Passing though a lobby, whose marble pillars were sadly broken and
disfigured, the Jew entered a courtyard, open to the sky, around which
were a number of recesses or cells. In these the unhappy slaves sat
huddled together. They were not cold, for it was summer; but their
misery and want of space probably induced them to cling closely to each
other.
The place had once been a bathing establishment, and an old fountain
still gurgled in the centre of the court; but its drains had been choked
long ago, and the waters had overflowed, to find exit as they best
might, rendering the floor a damp and uncomfortable residence for
scorpions, centipedes, and other repulsive insects.
The slaves received only two small rolls of black bread as their rations
at the close of each day, and they were too eagerly engaged in devouring
these to pay much regard to their visitor.
Looking carefully round, the Jew at length discovered the objects of his
search,--Francisco, Lucien, and Mariano Rimini. The two first were
seated side by side, eating their meagre meal. Mariano lay near them,
heavily laden with irons, and also endeavouring to eat.
"Friends," said Bacri, approaching them.
"Villain!" cried Mariano, starting up into a reclining attitude, despite
the agony that the act occasioned, and fixing his eyes on the Jew.
"You do me injustice, young man," said Bacri, seating himself on the
basement of a pillar.
"It may be that he does you injustice," said Lucien sternly,
"nevertheless we have all of us good reason to believe that you are a
friend of the pirate Hassan, and no friend of ours."
"Whether friend or foe, say thy say, man, and be gone," cried the bluff
Francisco, whose spirit suffered even more than his body from the
indignities to which he had been subjected that day.
"Listen, then," said Bacri impressively. "You know my name and nation,
but you do not know that I am the chief of the Jews in this city of
devils. I and my people are regarded by these followers of Mohammed as
worse than the dogs in their streets, yet, while they treat us with the
utmost indignity, they know that we are good traders, and as such bring
riches within their walls. I have power--the power of wealth--to help
you at a pinch; indeed I _have_ helped you, for it was only by means of
a promise of gold that I induced Sidi Hassan to spare your lives when
his men were bent on taking them. But that is not what I came to tell
you to-night. I came to say that the poor captive girls with whom you
voyaged to this place are for the present out of danger."
"Say you so?" exclaimed Mariano eagerly. "How can that be? Did I not
see Angela led to the slave-market this very afternoon?"
"You did, and I purchased her for the purpose of protecting her. She is
now in my house. Her sister and the infant have been sent as a
temporary gift or loan to the British consul, under whose care she is
safe _for the present_. But be not too sanguine," added Bacri, seeing
that Mariano's countenance brightened; "the whim of the Dey, or a change
of government, which latter is common enough here, may totally alter the
state of affairs. If the Dey willed it, I could not hold anything that
belongs to me for an hour. They call us dogs, and treat us as such."
"They are themselves dogs!" cried Mariano indignantly.
"Christians have called us by the same name," returned the Jew calmly,
"thereby proving the falsity of their own faith."
"Say not so!" cried Lucien with animation. "Many, calling themselves
Christians, have undoubtedly treated your race ill, but those who really
love the Lord Jesus cannot help respecting the people from whom Himself
sprang. I side not with those who disgrace themselves by vilifying the
Jews."
Lucien extended his hand as he spoke, and Bacri grasped it kindly.
"Bah! you are fools; all of you arrant idiots!" cried a wild-looking
ragged man in the neighbouring cell, starting up and glaring at them as
he clenched his fists. "What avails Christianity, or Judaism, or
anything else here? 'Tis a world of fiends!--ha, ha! murderers,
tormentors, hypocrites,--ha! ha!"
Here the man gave vent to a burst of wild ferocious laughter, so loud
that even the careless and callous warder was disturbed, and rattled his
keys as if about to enter. The sound appeared to send a chill to the
heart of the captive; an expression of terror overspread his thin
haggard features, and he shrunk together as he retired quickly to the
remotest corner of his cell.
"A maniac, I fear," said Francisco in a low tone, observing that the Jew
regarded him with a look of pity.
"No, not quite mad," replied Bacri in the same low tone, "but sometimes
very near it, I think. Poor man, I know him well. He has been fifteen
years a prisoner in Algiers. When first brought here he was as fine a
specimen of a Genoese youth as I ever saw. His name is Lorenzo Benoni.
He was captured with his wife and two children, all of whom died before
the first year was out. Of course, although in the same city, he was
never again permitted to see wife or children. He was very dangerous at
first, attacking and nearly killing his guards whenever he got a chance,
and frequently attempting to take his own life, so that they were
obliged to make him work constantly in heavy irons, and, I need scarcely
add, bastinadoed and tortured him until his body became a mass of
bruises from head to foot. They subdued him, in the course of years, to
a condition of callous and brutal indifference to everything, and at
last his great strength began to give way. He is now considered
incapable of doing much injury to any one, and seems almost tamed. The
Turks think that this has been brought about by sickness and starvation;
it may be partly so, but I cannot help thinking that, despite the
contempt which, in a sudden burst of passion, he poured on it just now,
religion has something to do with it, for I have noticed a considerable
change in him since he began to listen to the voice of an old man who
has been a true friend of the poor slaves since long before I came here.
The old man professes, at least he teaches, your religion; but I know
not to what sect he belongs. Indeed, I think he belongs to none. This,
however, am I sure of, that he holds equally by our Scriptures and your
Testament as being the whole Word of God."
The three captives listened to this narration with sinking hearts, for
it opened up a glimpse of the terrible and hopeless future that lay
before themselves, so that for some time they sat gazing in silence at
their visitor, and at the miserable beings who were devouring the last
crumbs of their black bread around them.
"I came to see you," continued Bacri, "partly to assure you of the
comparative safety of the girls who interested us all so much on board
the vessel of Sidi Hassan, and partly to say that I will do what lies in
my power to alleviate your sad condition. With Lucien's education and
knowledge of languages, it may be possible to get him into the immediate
service of the Dey, in which case he will be able to aid his father and
brother."
"Have you, then, much influence with the Dey?" asked Francisco.
"None," replied the Jew, with a sad smile. "I have already told you
that the pirates detest us; that we are tolerated only because of our
money-making powers, and the ease with which they can bleed us when they
want gold. But I have some influence with others in the city who have
power to move the Dey. There is one thing, however," here the Jew
glanced pointedly at Mariano, "in regard to which I would give you most
earnest counsel, namely, that you should at once dismiss all idea of
rebellion. It will be utterly unavailing. You may, like the caged
lion, if you will, dash yourselves to death against your prison bars,
but you cannot break them. Countless thousands of bold and brave
spirits have attempted this plan, with no good result, in time past.
The Turks are well acquainted with and quite prepared for it. Your only
chance of mitigating the woes of your condition lies in submission."
"It were better and nobler to die than to submit," said Mariano
gloomily.
"It were better and nobler to bow to the will of the Almighty than to
commit suicide," retorted Bacri, somewhat sternly. "It is selfishness
and pride which induces us to seek deliverance from sorrow and suffering
in death. There are men who have thought that truest nobility lay in
choosing a life in the midst of suffering and woe for the purpose of
alleviating it, and who have acted on their opinion. This lesson,
however, is not so frequently learnt by us through precept as in the
school of sorrow."
Mariano felt abashed, yet at the same time rather nettled.
"Truly, then," he said, with a glance at his blood-stained shirt, "it
seems to me that I have at all events begun my lesson in the right
school. However, I believe thou art right, Bacri, and I bear thee no
ill-will for the rap thou didst bestow on my skull, which, luckily, is a
thick one, else thy ponderous fist had split it from the cranium to the
chin."
"We had misjudged you, Bacri," said Francisco, extending his hand, as
the Jew rose to depart.
"We will lay your advice to heart; and we thank you, meanwhile, for
coming to see us in this foul den, which I dislike less because of
moisture and dirt--these being familiar to me--than because of the
lively reptiles which hold their nightly revels in it."
There was mingled humour and bitterness in Francisco's tone, as he
uttered this sentence, which he concluded with a heavy sigh.
Immediately after, the rusty bolts of their prison-door grated harshly
on their ears, and they listened sadly to the retreating footsteps of
one whom they now esteemed their only friend, as they died away in the
distance.