BO MUZEM'S JOURNEY.
Although an Arab merchant, Bo Muzem was an honest man,--one who in all
business transactions told the truth, and expected to hear it from
others.
He pursued his journey towards Mogador with but a faint hope that the
representations made by Harry Blount would prove true, and with the
determination of taking the life of the latter, should he find himself
deceived. He placed more faith in the story told him by the sheik, than
in the mere supposition of the pilgrim, that the white slaves would find
some one to ransom them. For often,--alas too often!--the hopes which
captives have dwelt on for tedious months, until they have believed them
true, have proved, when put to the test, but empty and fallacious
dreams.
His journey was partly undertaken through a sense of duty. After the
promise made to the slaves, he thought it but right to become fully
convinced that they would not be redeemed before the idea of taking them
to Mogador should be relinquished.
He pressed forward on his journey with the perseverance and self-denial
so peculiar to the race. After crossing the spurs of the Atlas Mountain
near Santa Cruz, he reached, on the evening of the third day, a small
walled town, within three hours ride of Mogador.
Here he stopped for the night, intending to proceed to the city early on
the next morning. Immediately after entering the town, Bo Muzem met a
person whose face wore a familiar look.
It was the man to whom but a few days before, he had sold Terence and
Jim.
"Ah! my friend, you have ruined me," exclaimed the Arab grazier, after
their first salutations had passed. "I have lost those two useless
Christian dogs you sold me, and I am ruined."
Bo Muzem asked him to explain.
"After your departure," said the grazier, "I tried to get some work out
of the infidels; but they would not obey, and I believe they would have
died before doing anything to make themselves useful. As I am a poor
man, I could not afford to keep them in idleness, nor to kill them,
which I had a strong inclination to do. The day after you left me, I
received intelligence from Swearah which commanded me to go there
immediately on business of importance; and thinking that possibly some
Christian fool in that place might give something for their infidel
countrymen, I took the slaves along with me.
"They promised that if I would take them to the English Consul, he would
pay a large price for their ransom. When we entered Mogador, and reached
the Consul's house, the dogs told me that they were free, and defied me
trying to take them out of the city, or obtaining anything for my
trouble or expense. The governor of Swearah and the Emperor of Morocco
are on good terms with the infidel's government, and they also hate us
Arabs of the desert. There is no justice there for us. If you take your
slaves into the city you will lose them."
"I shall not take them into the empire of Morocco," said Bo Muzem,
"until I have first received the money for them."
"You will never get it in Swearah. Their consul will not pay a dollar,
but will try to get them liberated without giving you anything."
"But I have a letter from one of my slaves to his uncle,--a nut merchant
in Swearah. The uncle must pay the money."
"The slave has lied to you. He has no uncle there, and I can soon
convince you that such is the case. There is lying in this place a
Mogador Jew, who is acquainted with every infidel merchant in that
place, and he also understands the languages they speak. Let him see the
letter."
Anxious to be convinced as to whether he was being deceived or not, Bo
Muzem readily agreed to this proposition; and in company with the
graziers, he repaired to the house where the Jew was staying for the
night.
The Jew, on being shown the letter, and asked to whom it was addressed,
replied,--
"To any English merchant in Mogador."
"_Bismillah!_" exclaimed Bo Muzem. "All English merchants cannot be
uncles to the young dog who wrote this letter."
"Tell me," added he, "did you ever hear of an English merchant in
Swearah named 'For God sake byas?'"
The Jew smiled, and with some difficulty restraining an inclination to
laugh outright at the question, gave the Arab a translation of the
words, "For God's sake buy us."
Bo Muzem was now satisfied that he had been "sold."
"I shall go no farther," said he, after they had parted with the Jew. "I
shall return to my partners. We will kill the Christian dog who wrote
the letter, and sell the rest for what we can get for them."
"That is your best plan," rejoined the grazier. "They do not deserve
freedom, and may Allah forbid that hereafter any true believers should
try to help them to it."
Early the next morning Bo Muzem set out on his return journey, thankful
for the good fortune that had enabled him so early to detect the
imposture that was being practised upon him.
He was accompanied by the grazier, who chanced to be journeying in the
same direction.
"The next Christian slaves I see for sale I intend to buy them,"
remarked the latter, as they journeyed along.
"Bismallah!" exclaimed Bo Muzem, "that is strange. I thought you had had
enough of them?"
"So I have," answered the grazier; "but that's just why I want more of
them. I want revenge on the unbelieving dogs; and will buy them for the
purpose of obtaining it. I work them until they are too old to do
anything and then let them die of hunger."
"Then buy those we have for sale," proposed Bo Muzem. "We are willing to
sell them cheap, all but one. The one who wrote this letter I shall
kill. I have sworn it by the prophet's beard."
As both parties appeared anxious for a bargain, they soon came to an
understanding as to the terms; and the grazier promised to give ten
dollars in money, and four head of horses for each of the slaves that
were for sale. He also agreed that one of his herdsmen should assist in
driving the cattle to any Arab settlement where a market might be found
for them.
The simple Bo Muzem had now in reality been "sold," for the story he had
been told about the escape of the two slaves, Terence and Jim, was
wholly and entirely false.