In a dimly-lighted cell of a massive stone building not far from the
palace of the Dey, sat Colonel Langley, Francisco Rimini and his two
sons, Bacri the Jew, and the officers and men belonging to the
_Prometheus_--all heavily ironed. The Padre Giovanni was also there,
but not, like the others, a prisoner.
He was attending to his self-imposed duty of comforting the sick and
dying. Among the other prisoners was an Italian slave, a nobleman, who
had broken down on the ramparts and rebelled, and was sent to prison as
being the most convenient hospital where he might be kept until the
pirates should find leisure to flog him into submission or to death.
But Death had a mind to do the work according to his own pleasure. The
slave felt himself to be sinking, and, through the influence of Bacri
with the jailer, he had been permitted to send for Giovanni. Other
slaves were there too, doomed to punishment, or, in other words, to
various degrees of torture. They lay or cowered around the cell
awaiting the issue of the fight.
It was a terrible sight to see the varied expressions of anxiety, fear,
or dogged resolution depicted in the faces of these men. Some of them
knew well that death, accompanied by excruciating torture, was certain
to be their portion when the bombardment should be over. Others hoped
that a severe bastinado might be the worst of it. None expected
anything more--even though the British should win the day--than that
there would be some modification in treaties which would not extend to
the slaves of foreign nations.
They all--with the exception of the Padre--maintained an almost unbroken
silence during the bombardment; but their restless motions and glances
showed how busy their thoughts were, and a grim smile would ever and
anon curl the lips of some when a chance shot struck the building and
shook it to its foundation. And oh! how anxiously one or two desperate
spirits hoped that a shell would enter it, and scatter sudden death
among them all!
It was solemn, and strange, too, in the midst of the interminable
thunder, to hear the gentle voice of the man of God quoting from the
peace-speaking Word, as he knelt beside the dying man and dwelling more
especially on passages in which the loving Jesus seeks to cheer His
people with prospects of rest and peace, such as--"Peace be unto you;"
"Let not your hearts be troubled, ye believe in God, believe also in
me;" "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest." Even the hardened among the wretched and demoralised
sufferers there could not choose but hear and note the powerful contrast
between the gentle voice of Almighty God that thus murmured within the
prison, and the crashing voice of puny man that roared outside!
In the darkness of that night Bacri crept to the side of Mariano, and
whispered hastily--
"I may not get another opportunity to speak to thee. Just before I came
hither Angela and her sister were taken from my care by force. They are
now in the palace, under the care of Zara. Omar intends to keep them."
Mariano turned to reply, but the Jew had retired noiselessly as he came.
Early in the morning after the fight the prison-door opened, and a band
of Turkish soldiers entered. The garish light of day, as it streamed
over the dungeon floor, revealed the fact that the shattered frame of
the Italian slave had found rest at last.
The soldiers looked fagged and dishevelled. Many of them wore bandages
about their heads and limbs. They did not speak, but drew up in a line,
while their leader advanced with a negro, who proceeded to file the
fetters from off the British consul and his countrymen. In a few
minutes he led them out between the soldiers, and conducted them towards
the palace.
Although the Turkish officer could not, or would not, converse with
Colonel Langley, the latter had little difficulty in making a pretty
good guess as to how matters stood, for on his way to the palace, short
though it was, he saw devastation enough to convince him that the
British had gained the day. Arrived at the palace, the party were
locked up in an anteroom.
Meanwhile, in the audience-hall, which was considerably damaged by the
artillery of the fleet, Omar Dey held a divan. The building in which
this court had been held in former times was now a ruin, and many of the
councillors who had been wont to assemble in it had gone to their last
account.
Omar was very pale, and moved with difficulty, having been wounded
slightly in various places. Indeed, all the statesmen who surrounded
him bore marks, more or less severe, of having played a part in the late
action. In the midst of an eager discussion, an attendant entered, and
announced the arrival of a British officer with a flag of truce.
"Admit him," said the Dey, who, although boiling over with rage and
despair, had sense enough to make up his mind to bow to the power which
he could not overcome.
Immediately Lieutenant Burgess was ushered into the court, accompanied
by Rais Ali in the capacity of translator, and two of his boat's crew,
one of whom was, by special permission, Ted Flaggan.
Without wasting time in useless ceremony, the lieutenant ordered Rais to
read aloud the paper which he had been commissioned by Lord Exmouth to
deliver to the Dey.
Poor Rais Ali appeared to have expended all his bravery on the ramparts,
for he trembled and grew paler as he took the paper in his hand.
"Cheer up, owld boy," whispered Flaggan, as Ali turned to advance
towards the Dey; "ye've got more pluck than I guv 'ee credit for. Never
say die."
Whether it was the result of these encouraging words, or desperation, we
know not, but Rais immediately advanced and read the paper with
considerable fluency. It ran as follows:--
"To His Highness the Dey of Algiers.
"Sir,--For your atrocities at Bona on defenceless Christians, and your
unbecoming disregard of the demands I made yesterday, in the name of
the Prince Regent of England, the fleet under my orders has given you
a signal chastisement, by the total destruction of your navy
storehouses and arsenal, with half your batteries. As England does
not make war for the destruction of cities, I am unwilling to visit
your personal cruelties upon the inoffensive inhabitants of the
country, and I therefore offer you the same terms of peace which I
conveyed to you yesterday in my Sovereign's name. Without the
acceptance of these terms you can have no peace with England.
"If you receive this offer as you ought, you will fire three guns; and
I shall consider your not making this signal as a refusal, and shall
renew my operations at my own convenience.
"I offer you the above terms provided neither the British consul, nor
the officers and men so wickedly seized by you from the boats of a
British ship of war, have met with any cruel treatment, or any of the
Christian slaves in your power; and I repeat my demand that the consul
and officers and men may be sent off to me, conformable to ancient
treaties.--I have, etcetera, Exmouth."