"It is well, young man, that you confess to the true and only source of
all help. You Christians, as you call yourselves, have ever seemed to
me unwilling to mention the name of God save when cursing your fellows,
and then you misuse it glibly enough. Yet there are some among you who
are more consistent in their professions. Go, fulfil your commission.
I will trust you."
"Thank you, Ben-Ahmed," returned the middy; "but remember, if I never
return, you will understand that I have not broken my word of honour."
The Moor bowed his head in acquiescence, and took a long pull at his
pipe as the midshipman went away.
George Foster was half-way to the town before he recovered from his
astonishment at the strange and unexpected way in which Ben-Ahmed had
received his very plain speaking. He had expected that chains and the
bastinado, if not worse, would certainly follow, but he had made up his
mind to go through with it--if need be to die--for Hester's sake. To
find himself, therefore, free to go where he pleased, and to help Hester
to escape if the opportunity to do so should come in his way, was an
amazing state of things which he could scarcely bring himself to
believe.
Of course, our hero had not the slightest expectation of encountering
Hester that day, when he thus freed himself from his parole, and we need
scarcely add that, even if he had met her, he could not have devised any
sudden scheme for her deliverance. Nevertheless, the mere fact that he
was at liberty to act as he pleased in her behalf had such an effect on
him that he entered the town with a lighter heart than he had possessed
for many a day. Humming a nautical air as he walked along, and almost
if not quite, for the moment, oblivious of the fact of his condition of
slavery, he became keenly interested in all that he saw as he passed
through the crowded streets, now stopping to admire a picturesque group
of figures with jars and pitchers, awaiting their turn to draw water
from a public fountain, or pausing in front of a turner's shop to
observe with curiosity and interest, the deft way in which the workman
used his toes as well as his fingers in the operations of his trade.
He was thus engaged, in calm contemplation with his back to the street,
when he was very slightly jostled by a passer-by. He scarcely noticed
the incident, but if he had known who it was that touched him he would
not have remained so placid, for it was Hester herself, in company with
Peter the Great, on their way to the city walls.
As Hester's eyes were fixed on the ground and her thoughts on her
father, while Foster's attention was concentrated on the turner's toes,
neither observed the other, but Peter's sharp eyes had noted the middy,
and he hurried past to prevent a recognition, which might be awkward, if
not dangerous, at the moment.
Presently Foster's attention was attracted by a Moor who was riding
along the street, sitting side-wise as was the wont of Algerines of the
trading-class. What struck Foster particularly about this man and his
donkey was that the latter was trotting very fast, although it was a
very small animal, and the man on its back a very large one. He also
observed that the donkey tossed its head and put back its ears as if it
were suffering pain. As the Moor's hand rested on the donkey's haunch,
the reason at once occurred to Foster, for he had noticed the same thing
before. It was the practice, among cruel men, to create, and keep open,
a small sore on the haunch of each animal, by irritating which with a
little bit of stick they managed to make their donkeys go in a way that
a spur or a thick stick could not accomplish!
Now, our middy possessed a tender heart, which shrank sensitively from
the idea of giving pain to any living creature, and which almost
exploded with indignation at the sight of wanton cruelty to dumb
animals.
When, therefore, the Moor came alongside of him, Foster gave him a look
of tremendous indignation, at the same time exclaiming, "Shame on you!"
The Moor turned on him a look of mingled surprise and scorn. At the
same time muttering, "Christian dog!" he brought a stick smartly down on
the middy's shoulders.
This was too much to bear meekly. The boiling blood in the youth's
heart boiled over into his face. He leaped forward, seized the donkey's
rein with one hand, caught the man's left leg with the other, and hurled
the rider backward to the ground.
The bump with which the Moor's head came down had the effect of keeping
it low, but the spectators of the incident, who were numerous, rushed
upon the poor middy, seized him, and carried him straight to a court of
justice.
They had a summary method of transacting business in those courts,
especially in simple cases like that of which we treat. The
investigation was rapid; the evidence of the witnesses emphatic. Almost
before he had recovered breath our hero was thrown down, his feet were
raised by two strong attendants, his shoes plucked off, and the soles of
his feet made to tingle as if they had been set on fire.
After a few strokes, which he bore in silence, he was led to the common
prison, thrust into it, and left to his meditations.
Meanwhile, Peter the Great conducted Hester to that part of the city
wall where her father was at work among the other slaves. It chanced to
be the hour when the wretched creatures were allowed to cease work for a
brief space in order to rest and eat.
Poor Hugh Sommers chanced to have seated himself a little apart from the
others, so as to get the benefit of a large stone for a seat. His
figure was, therefore, prominent, as he sat there worn, weary, and
dejected, consuming his allowance of black bread. Peter the Great knew
him at once, having already, as the reader knows, seen him in his slave
garb; but Hester's anxious eyes failed for a few moments to pick out the
emaciated frame and strangely clad, ragged figure which represented her
once jovial, stalwart, and well-clothed father.
"Das him," whispered Peter, as he loosely grasped the girl's arm by way
of precaution.
"Where--oh, where?" asked the poor creature, glancing round among the
slaves.
"Now, 'member your promise. Spoil eberyt'ing if you screech or run to
him. Look, dis way! De man what's settin' on de stone!"
"Yes, yes, I see! Oh--"
She stopped abruptly and trembled, for at the moment her father turned
his woe-begone face unconsciously towards her. Even the much-increased
grey tinge in the hair and beard, the lines of despair on the brow, and
the hollow cheeks could not disguise the face that she loved so well. A
sharp cry burst from her, and she made an attempt to rush towards him,
but the iron grip of Peter restrained her.
"It's a dead man he'll be if you do!" he said, in a stern but low tone.
"Don't you see de janissary? Your _promise_--"
"Yes, yes! I'll restrain myself _now_, Peter. Do let me stay a
minute--just to look--"
"No, _no_! Come 'long wid you--idle t'ing!" he exclaimed, with sudden
severity, and apparent though not real violence, for at the moment his
watchful eye had observed one of the slave guards approaching them.
As the two went hurriedly past the place where Hugh Sommers was sitting,
he looked up with an expression of pity.
"Poor thing!" he said. "The black scoundrel is cruel to you, and I am
powerless to kick him!"
He clinked the fetters on his legs significantly as he spoke.
The mingled pathos and indignation of the loved voice was too much for
poor Hester. She was on the point of exclaiming "Father!" when Peter's
great black paw extinguished her mouth, and was not removed till they
were out of danger.
"You's like all de rest ob de womans," said the negro, as they hurried
through the streets; "awrful dif'cult to manidge. Come 'long, we'll go
home and hab a talk ober it."
Hester was too miserable to reply. She did not again speak till they
were both safe in the boudoir.
There she sat down on the bed, laid her face in her hands, and burst
into a passion of tears, while Peter stood looking on, his head nearly
touching the low ceiling, his bulky frame filling half the remainder of
the little room, and two mighty unbidden tears in his great eyes.
"Das right, Geo'giana," he said, in a soft voice; "cry away, it'll do
you good. Nuffin like cryin' w'en you's fit to bust! An' w'en you's
got it ober we'll talk all about it."
"Oh, Peter!" cried Hester, drying her eyes somewhat impatiently; "how
_could_ you be so cruel? Why--why could you not have waited just one
minute to let me look at him?"
"Because, my dear, de man wid de whip was comin', an' he'd bery soon hab
laid it across my back," replied the negro gently.
"And what if he had done so?" demanded Hester, with a slight touch of
indignation; "could you not have suffered a little whipping for my
sake?"
"Yes, Geo'giana," returned Peter, with much humility, "I could suffer
great deal more'n dat for your sake; but dere's no sich t'ings as
_little_ whippin's know'd ob in dis yar town. W'en de lash am goin' he
usu'lly makes de hair fly. Moreober, dey whip womans as well as mans,
an' if he was to took de bit out ob your pretty shoulder, I couldn't
suffer dat, you know. Likewise," continued Peter, becoming more
argumentative in his manner, "you was just a-goin' to took de bit in
your teef; an' if you'd bin allowed to frow your arms round your
fadder's neck an' rub all de black ober his face what would hab bin de
consikence?"
Peter felt his position so strong at this point that he put the question
almost triumphantly, and Hester was constrained to acknowledge that he
had acted wisely after all.
"But," continued she, with still a little of reproach in her tone, "what
was the use of taking me to see my darling father at all, if this is all
that is to come of it?"
"You's a leetle obstropolous in you' fancies, Geo'giana. Dis am _not_
all what's to come ob it. You see, I has pity on your poo' heart, so I
t'ink you might go ebery oder day an' hab a good look at your fadder;
but how kin you go if you not know whar he works? So I tooked you to
show you de way. But I's a'most sorry I did now, for you's got no
self-'straint, an' if you goes by you'self you'll git took up for
sartin', an' dey'll whip your fadder till he's dead, or frow him on de
hooks, or skin him alive, or--"
"Oh, horrible! Don't say such dreadful things, Peter!" exclaimed
Hester, covering her face with her hands.
Feeling that he had said quite enough to impress the poor girl with the
absolute necessity of being careful, he promised earnestly never again
to allude to such dreadful things.
"But, Geo'giana," he added impressively, "you mus' promise me on your
word ob honour, w'ich Geo'ge Foster says English gen'lemans _neber_
break--an' I s'pose he's right."
"Yes, quite right, Peter; true gentlemen _never_ break their word."
"An' I s'pose female gen'lemans am de same."
"Of course! Go on," replied the girl, with a faint smile.
"Well, as I was 'bout to say, you mus' promise me on your word ob
honour, dat you'll neber go _alone_ to see your fadder, but allers in
company wid Sally; dat you neber, neber speak to him, an' dat you neber
make you'self know'd to him till de right time comes."
"These are hard conditions, Peter, but I see the reasonableness of them
all, and promise--at least I promise to do my best."
"Das 'nuff, Geo'giana. Neezer man nor womans kin do more'n deir best.
Now I mus' bid you good-day, so keep up your heart an' you'll see
eberyt'ing come right in de end."
With these cheering words the sympathetic negro took his leave; and
Hester, resuming her embroidery, sat down at her little window, not to
work, but to gaze dreamily at the beautiful sea, and cast about in her
mind how she should act in order to alleviate if possible her father's
sad condition.
That very afternoon she received a visit from her stolid but
affectionate friend Sally, who at once said that she knew of a splendid
plan for doing him a great deal of good.
"And what is your plan?" asked Hester eagerly.
"Gib him two or t'ree biscuits," said Sally.
Her friend received the suggestion with a look of disappointment.
"What a stupid thing you are, Sally! How could that do him any good?"
Sally looked at her friend with an air of pity.
"Didn't you say he was awrful t'in?" she asked.
"Thin? Oh yes--dreadfully thin."
"Well, den, isn't dat 'cause he not hab 'nuff to eat? _I_ knows it,
bress you! I's bin wid a missis as starved me. Sometimes I t'ink I
could eat my shoes. Ob course I got awrful t'in--so t'in dat w'en I
stood side-wise you could hardly see me. Well, what de way to get fat
an' strong? Why, eat, ob course. Eat--eat--eat. Das de way. Now,
your fadder git not'ing but black bread, an' not 'nuff ob dat; an' he
git plenty hard work too, so he git t'in. So, what I prupposes is to
gib him two good biskits ebery day. We couldn't gib him more'n two,
'cause he'd hab to hide what he couldn't eat at once, an' de drivers
would be sure to diskiver 'em. But two biskits could be gobbled quick
on de sly, an' would help to make him fat, an' to make you easy."
"So they would," said Hester, eagerly entertaining the idea after this
explanation; "you're a clever girl, Sally--"
"You say I's stoopid jest now!"
"So I did, Sally. Forgive me! I was stupid besides unkind for saying
so. But how shall we manage it? Won't the guards see us doing it?"
"No fear, Geo'giana! De guards am fools--t'ink dere's nobody like 'em.
Dey forgit. All de asses in Algiers am like 'em. Dis de way ob it.
You an' me we'll go to markit ebery day wid baskits on our arms, an
we'll ob course go round by de walls, where your fadder works. No doubt
it's a roundabout way, but what ob dat? We'll go at de hour your fadder
feeds wid de oder slabes, an' as we pass we'll drop de two biskits in
his lap."
"But won't he be taken by surprise, Sally?"
"De fust time--yes; but dat won't prevent him gobblin' up de biskits
quick. Neber fear, you an' me'll manidge it 'tween us."
"Thank you, dear Sally, I'll never, _never_ forget your kindness, and we
will try your plan to-morrow."