'The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks,
The long day wanes, the slow moon climbs. The deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.'
TENNYSON.
Arthur fell asleep at last, and did not waken till after sunrise, nor did
Ulysse, who must have been exhausted with crying and struggling. When
they did awaken, Arthur thinking with heavy heart that the moment of
parting was come, he saw indeed the other three slaves busied in making
bales of the merchandise; but the master, as well as the Abyssinian,
Fareek, and the little negro were all missing. Bekir, who was a kind of
foreman, and looked on the new white slave with some jealousy, roughly
pointed to some coarse food, and in reply to the question whether the
merchant was taking leave of the sheyk, intimated that it was no business
of theirs, and assumed authority to make his new fellow-slave assist in
the hardest of the packing.
Arthur had no heart to resist, much as it galled him to be ordered about
by this rude fellow. It was only a taste, as he well knew, of what he
had embraced, and he was touched by poor little Ulysse's persistency in
keeping as close as possible, though his playfellows came down and tried
first to lure, then to drag him away, and finally remained to watch the
process of packing up. Though Bekir was too disdainful to reply to his
fellow-slave's questions, Arthur picked up from answers to the Moors who
came down that Yusuf had recollected that he had not finished his
transactions with a little village of Cabyle coral and sponge-fishers on
the coast, and had gone down thither, taking the little negro, to whom
the headman seemed to have taken a fancy, so as to become a possible
purchaser, and with the Abyssinian to attend to the mules.
A little before sundown Yusuf returned. Fareek lifted down a pannier
covered by a crimson and yellow kerchief, and Yusuf declared, with much
apparent annoyance, that the child was sick, and that this had frustrated
the sale. He was asleep, must be carried into the tent, and not
disturbed: for though the Cabyles had not purchased him, there was no
affording to loose anything of so much value. Moreover, observing Ulysse
still hovering round the Scot, he said, 'You may bide here the night,
laddie, I ha tell't the sheyk;' and he repeated the same to the slaves in
Arabic, dismissing them to hold a parting feast on a lamb stuffed with
pistachio nuts, together with their village friends.
Then drawing near to Arthur, he said, 'Can ye gar yon wean keep a quiet
sough, if we make him pass for the little black?'
Arthur started with joy, and stammered some words of intense relief and
gratitude.
'The deed's no dune yet,' said Yusuf, 'and it is ower like to end in our
leaving a' our banes on the sands! But a wilfu' man maun have his way,'
he repeated; 'so, sir, if it be your wull, ye'd better speak to the
bairn, for we must make a blackamoor of him while there is licht to do
it, or Bekir, whom I dinna lippen to, comes back frae the feast.'
Ulysse, being used to Irish-English, had little understanding of Yusuf's
broad Scotch; but he was looking anxiously from one to the other of the
speakers, and when Arthur explained to him that the disguise, together
with perfect silence, was the only hope of not being left behind among
the Moors, and the best chance of getting back to his home and dear ones
again, he perfectly understood. As to the blackening, for which Yusuf
had prepared a mixture to be laid on with a feather, it was perfectly
enchanting to _faire la comedie_. He laughed so much that he had to be
peremptorily hushed, and they were sensible of the danger that in case of
a search he might betray himself to his Moorish friends; and Arthur tried
to make him comprehend the extreme danger, making him cry so that his
cheeks had to be touched up. His eyes and hair were dark, and the latter
was cut to its shortest by Yusuf, who further managed to fasten some
tufts of wool dipped in the black unguent to the kerchief that bound his
head. The childish features had something of the Irish cast, which lent
itself to the transformation, and in the scanty garments of the little
negro Arthur owned that he should never have known the small French
gentleman. Arthur was full of joy--Yusuf gruff, brief, anxious, like one
acting under some compulsion most unwillingly, and even despondently, but
apparently constrained by a certain instinctive feudal feeling, which
made him follow the desires of the young Border laird's son.
All had been packed beforehand, and there was nothing to be done but to
strike the tents, saddle the mules, and start. Ulysse, still very
sleepy, was lifted into the pannier, almost at the first streak of dawn,
while the slaves were grumbling at being so early called up; and to a
Moor who wakened up and offered to take charge of the little Bey, Yusuf
replied that the child had been left in the sheyk's house.
So they were safely out at the outer gate, and proceeding along a
beautiful path leading above the cliffs. The mules kept in one long
string, Bekir with the foremost, which was thus at some distance from the
hindmost, which carried Ulysse and was attended by Arthur, while the
master rode his own animals and gave directions. The fiction of illness
was kept up, and when the bright eyes looked up in too lively a manner,
Yusuf produced some of the sweets, which were always part of his stock in
trade, as a bribe to quietness.
At sunrise, the halt for prayer was a trial to Arthur's intense anxiety,
and far more so was the noontide one for sleep. He even ventured a
remonstrance, but was answered, 'Mair haste, worse speed. Our lives are
no worth a boddle till the search is over.'
They were on the shady side of a great rock overhung by a beautiful
creeping plant, and with a spring near at hand, and Yusuf, in leisurely
fashion, squatted down, caused Arthur to lift out the child, who was fast
asleep again, and the mules to be allowed to feed, and distributed some
dried goat's flesh and dates; but Ulysse, somewhat to Arthur's alarm, did
not wake sufficiently to partake.
Looking up in alarm, he met a sign from Yusuf and presently a whisper,
'No hurt done--'tis safer thus--'
And by this time there were alarming sounds on the air. The sheyk and
two of the chief men of El Arnieh were on horseback and armed with
matchlocks; and the whole '_posse_ of the village were following on foot,
with yells and vituperations of the entire ancestry of the merchant, and
far more complicated and furious threats than Arthur could follow; but he
saw Yusuf go forward to meet them with the utmost cool courtesy.
They seemed somewhat discomposed: Yusuf appeared to condole with them on
the loss, and, waving his hands, put all his baggage at their service for
a search, letting them run spears through the bales, and overturn the
baskets of sponges, and search behind every rock. When they approached
the sleeping boy, Arthur, with throbbing heart, dimly comprehended that
Yusuf was repeating the story of the disappointment of a purchase caused
by his illness, and lifting for a moment the covering laid over him to
show the bare black legs and arms. There might also have been some hint
of infection which, in spite of all Moslem belief in fate, deterred Abou
Ben Zegri from an over-close inspection. Yusuf further invented a story
of having put the little Frank in charge of a Moorish woman in the
adowara; but added he was so much attached to the Son of the Sea, that
most likely he had wandered out in search of him, and the only wise
course would be to seek him before he was devoured by any of the wild
beasts near home.
Nevertheless, there was a courteous and leisurely smoking of pipes and
drinking of coffee before the sheyk and his followers turned homewards.
To Arthur's alarm and surprise, however, Yusuf did not resume the
journey, but told Bekir that there would hardly be a better halting-place
within their powers, as the sun was already some way on his downward
course; and besides, it would take some time to repack the goods which
had been cast about in every direction during the search. The days were
at their shortest, though that was not very short, closing in at about
five o'clock, so that there was not much time to spare. Arthur began to
feel some alarm at the continued drowsiness of the little boy, who only
once muttered something, turned round, and slept again.
'What have you done to him?' asked Arthur anxiously.
'The poppy,' responded Yusuf. 'Never fash yoursel'. The bairn willna be
a hair the waur, and 'tis better so than that he shuld rax a' our
craigs.'
Yusuf's peril was so much the greater, that it was impossible to object
to any of his precautions, especially as he might take offence and throw
the whole matter over; but it was impossible not to chafe secretly at the
delay, which seemed incomprehensible. Indeed, the merchant was avoiding
private communication with Arthur, only assuming the master, and ordering
about in a peremptory fashion which it was very hard to digest.
After the sunset orisons had been performed, Yusuf regaled his slaves
with a donation of coffee and tobacco, but with a warning to Arthur not
to partake, and to keep to windward of them. So too did the Abyssinian,
and the cause of the warning was soon evident, as Bekir and his companion
nodded, and then sank into a slumber as sound as that of the little
Frenchman. Indeed, Arthur himself was weary enough to fall asleep soon
after sundown, in spite of his anxiety, and the stars were shining like
great lamps when Yusuf awoke him. One mule stood equipped beside him,
and held by the Abyssinian. Yusuf pointed to the child, and said, 'Lift
him upon it.'
Arthur obeyed, finding a pannier empty on one side to receive the child,
who only muttered and writhed instead of awaking. The other side seemed
laden. Yusuf led the animal, retracing their way, while fire-flies
flitted around with their green lights, and the distant laughter of
hyenas gave Arthur a thrill of loathing horror. Huge bats fluttered
round, and once or twice grim shapes crossed their path.
'Uncanny beasties,' quoth Yusuf; 'but they will soon be behind us.'
He turned into a rapidly-sloping path. Arthur felt a fresh salt breeze
in his face, and his heart leapt up with hope.
In about an hour and a half they had reached a cove, shut in by dark
rocks which in the night looked immeasurable, but on the white beach a
few little huts were dimly discernible, one with a light in it. The
sluggish dash of waves could be heard on the shore; there was a sense of
infinite space and breadth before them; and Jupiter sitting in the north-
west was like an enormous lamp, casting a pathway of light shimmering on
the waters to lead the exiles home.
Three or four boats were drawn up on the beach; a man rose up from within
one, and words in a low voice were exchanged between him and Yusuf; while
Fareek, grinning so that his white teeth could be seen in the starlight,
unloaded the mule, placing its packs, a long Turkish blunderbuss, and two
skins of water, in the boat, and arranging a mat on which Arthur could
lay the sleeping child.
Well might the youth's heart bound with gratitude, as, unmindful of all
the further risks and uncertainties to be encountered, he almost saw his
way back to Burnside!