After Ben-Ahmed had departed on his mission to the Dey of Algiers,
George Foster and Peter the Great re-entered the house, and in the
seclusion of the bower continued to discuss the hopes, fears, and
possibilities connected with the situation.
"Dat was a clebber dodge ob yours, Geo'ge," remarked the negro, "an' I's
got good hope dat somet'ing will come ob it, for massa's pretty sure to
succeed w'en he take a t'ing in hand."
"I'm glad you think so, Peter. And, to say truth, I am myself very
sanguine."
"But dere's one t'ing dat 'plexes me bery much. What is we to do about
poo' Hester's fadder w'en he's pardoned? De Dey can spare his life, but
he won't set him free--an' if he don't set him free de slabe-drivers 'll
be sure to kill 'im out ob spite."
The middy was silent, for he could not see his way out of this
difficulty.
"Perhaps," he said, "Ben-Ahmed may have thought of that, and will
provide against it, for of course he knows all the outs and ins of
Moorish life, and he is a thoughtful man."
"Das true, Geo'ge. He _am_ a t'oughtful man. Anyhow, we kin do not'ing
more, 'cept wait an' see. But I's much more 'plexed about Hester, for
eben if de sailor am a good an' true man, as you say, he can't keep her
or his-self alibe on not'ing in de mountains, no more'n he could swim
wid her on his back across de Mederainyon!"
Again the middy was silent for a time. He could by no means see his way
out of this greater difficulty, and his heart almost failed him as he
thought of the poor girl wandering in the wilderness without food or
shelter.
"P'r'aps," suggested Peter, "she may manage to git into de town an' pass
for a nigger as she's dood before, an' make tracks for her old place wid
Missis Lilly--or wid Dinah."
"No doubt she may," cried Foster, grasping at the hope as a drowning man
grasps at a plank. "Nothing more likely. Wouldn't it be a good plan
for you to go into town at once and make inquiry?"
"Dessay it would," returned the negro. "Das just what I'll do, an' if
she's not dere, Dinah may gib my int'lec' a jog. She's a wonderful
woman, Dinah, for workin' up de human mind w'en it's like goin' to
sleep. Poo' Samson hab diskivered dat many times. I'll go at once."
"Do, Peter, my fine fellow, and you'll lay me for ever under the deepest
ob--"
He was interrupted by a slave who at the moment approached the bower and
said that a man wanted to see Peter the Great.
"To see Ben-Ahmed, you mean," said Peter.
"No--to see yourself," returned the slave.
"Sen' 'im here," said the negro, with a magnificent wave of the hand.
In a few minutes the slave returned accompanied by a negro, who limped
so badly that he was obliged to use a stick, and whose head was bandaged
up with a blue cloth. Arrived at the bower, he stood before Peter the
Great and groaned.
"You may go," said Peter to the slave, who lingered as if anxious to
hear the news of the visitor. When he was out of hearing, Peter turned
to the lame man, looked him sharply in the face, and said--
"You's bery black in de face, my frind, but you's much blacker in de
h'art. What business hab you to come here widout washin' your white
face clean?"
"Well, you're a pretty smart chap for a nigger. An' I dare say you'll
understand that I'd have had some difficulty in fetchin' this here port
at all if I'd washed my face," answered the lame man, in excellent
nautical English.
While he spoke, Foster ran towards him, laid a hand on his shoulder, and
looked earnestly into his face.
"You are the British sailor," he said, "who rescued Hes--Miss Sommers
from the janissaries?"
"That's me to a tee," replied the sailor, with a broad grin.
"Is Miss Sommers safe?" asked the middy anxiously.
"Ay! safe as any woman can be in this world. Leastwise, she's in a cave
wi' three o' the toughest sea-dogs as any man could wish to see--one o'
them bein' a Maltese an' the other two bein' true-blue John Bulls as
well as Jack Tars. But Miss Sommers gave me orders to say my say to
Peter the Great, so if this nigger is him, I'll be obleeged if he'll
have a little private conversation wi' me."
"Did Miss Sommers say that I was not to hear the message?" asked the
middy, in some surprise.
"She made no mention o' _you_, or anybody else at all, as I knows on,"
returned the sailor firmly, "an' as my orders was to Peter the Great,
an' as this seems to be him, from Sally's description--a monstrous big,
fine-lookin' nigger, with a lively face--I'll say my say to him _alone_,
with your leave."
"You may say it where you is, for dis yar gen'lem'n is a frind ob mine,
an' a hofficer in the Bri'sh navy, an' a most 'tickler friend of Hester
Sommers, so we all frinds togidder."
"You'll excuse me, sir," said the seaman, touching his forelock, "but
you don't look much like a' officer in your present costoom. Well,
then, here's wot I've got to say--"
"Don't waste your time, Brown, in spinning the yarn of your rescue of
the girl," said Foster, interrupting; "we've heard all about it already
from Sally, and can never sufficiently express our thanks to you for
your brave conduct. Tell us, now, what happened after you disappeared
from Sally's view."
The sailor thereupon told them all about his subsequent proceedings--how
he had persuaded Hester to accompany him through the woods and by a
round about route to a part of the coast where he expected ere long to
find friends to rescue him. From some reason or other best known to
himself, he was very secretive in regard to the way in which these
friends had managed to communicate with him.
"You see I'm not free to speak out all I knows," he said. "But surely
it's enough to say that my friends have not failed me; that I found them
waitin' there with a small boat, so light that they had dragged it up
an' concealed it among the rocks, an' that I'd have bin on my way to old
England at this good hour if it hadn't bin for poor Miss Sommers, whom
we couldn't think of desartin'."
"Then she refused to go with you?" said Foster.
"Refused! I should think she did! Nothing, she said, would indooce her
to leave Algiers while her father was in it. One o' my mates was for
forcing her into the boat, an' carryin' her off, willin' or not willin',
but I stood out agin' him, as I'd done enough o' that to the poor thing
already. Then she axed me to come along here an' ax Peter the Great if
he knowed anything about her father. `But I don't know Peter the
Great,' says I, `nor where he lives.' `Go to Sally,' says she, `an'
you'll get all the information you need.' `But I'll never get the
length o' Sally without being nabbed,' says I. `Oh!' says she, `no fear
o' that. Just you let me make a nigger of you. I always keep the stuff
about me in my pocket, for I so often cry it off that I need to renew it
frequently.' An' with that she out with a parcel o' black stuff and
made me into a nigger before you could say Jack Robinson. Fort'nately,
I've got a pretty fat lump of a nose of my own, an' my lips are pretty
thick by natur', so that with a little what you may call hard poutin'
when I had to pass guards, janissaries, an' such like, I managed to get
to where Missis Lilly an' Sally lived, an' they sent me on here. An'
now the question is, what's to be done, for it's quite clear that my
mates an' me can't remain for ever hidin' among the rocks. We must be
off; an' I want to know, are we to take this poor gal with us, or are we
to leave her behind, an', if so, what are her friends a-goin' to do for
her?"
"There's no fear of your friends going off without you, I suppose?"
"Well, as they risked their precious lives to rescue me, it ain't
likely," returned the seaman.
"Would it not be well to keep Brown here till Ben-Ahmed returns?" asked
Foster, turning to Peter the Great.
The negro knitted his brows and looked vacantly up through the leafy
roof of the bower, as if in profound meditation. Some of the brighter
stars were beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky by that time, and
one of them seemed to wink at him encouragingly, for he suddenly turned
to the middy with all the energy of his nature, exclaiming, "I's got
it!" and brought his great palm down on his greater thigh with a
resounding slap.
"If it's in your breeches pocket you must have squashed it, then!" said
Brown--referring to the slap. "Anyhow, if you've got it, hold on to it
an' let's hear what it is."
"No--not now. All in good time. Patience, my frind, is a virtoo wuf
cultivation--"
"You needn't go for to tell _that_ to a Bagnio slave like me, Mister
Peter. Your greatness might have made you aware o' that," returned the
sailor quietly.
An eye-shutting grin was Peter's reply to this, and further converse was
stopped by the sound of clattering hoofs.
"Massa!" exclaimed the negro, listening. "Das good. No time lost.
Come wid me, you sham nigger, an' I's gib you somet'ing to tickle you
stummik. You go an' look arter de hoss, Geo'ge."
While the middy ran to the gate to receive his master, Peter the Great
led the sham nigger to the culinary regions, where, in a sequestered
corner, he supplied him with a bowl containing a savoury compound of
chicken and rice.
"I hope that all has gone well?" Foster ventured to ask as the Moor
dismounted.
"All well. Send Peter to me immediately," he replied, and, without
another word, hurried into the house.
Calling another slave and handing over the smoking horse to him, Foster
ran to the kitchen.
"Peter, you're--"
"Wanted 'meeditly--yes, yes--I knows dat. What a t'ing it is to be
in'spensible to anybody! I don't know how he'll eber git along widout
me."
Saying which he hurried away, leaving the middy to do the honours of the
house to the sailor.
"I s'pose, sir, you haven't a notion what sort o' plans that nigger has
got in his head?" asked the latter.
"Not the least idea. All I know is that he is a very clever fellow and
never seems very confident about anything without good reason."
"Well, whatever he's a-goin' to do, I hope he'll look sharp about it,
for poor Miss Sommers's fate and the lives o' my mates, to say nothin'
of my own, is hangin' at this moment on a hair--so to speak," returned
the sailor, as he carefully scraped up and consumed the very last grain
of the savoury mess, murmuring, as he did so, that it was out o' sight
the wery best blow-out he'd had since he enjoyed his last Christmas
dinner in old England.
"Will you have some more?" asked the sympathetic middy.
"No more, sir, thankee. I'm loaded fairly down to the water-line.
Another grain would bust up the hatches; but if I might ventur' to putt
forth a wish now, a glass o'--no? well, no matter, a drop o' water'll
do. I'm well used to it now, havin' drunk enough to float a
seventy-four since I come to this city o' pirates."
"You will find coffee much more agreeable as well as better for you. I
have learned that from experience," said the middy, pouring out a tiny
cupful from an earthen coffee-pot that always stood simmering beside the
charcoal fire.
"Another of that same, sir, if you please," said the seaman, tossing off
the cupful, which, indeed, scarcely sufficed to fill his capacious
mouth. "Why they should take their liquor in these parts out o' things
that ain't much bigger than my old mother's thimble, passes my
comprehension. You wouldn't mind another?--thankee."
"As many as you please, Brown," said the middy, laughing, as he poured
out cupful after cupful; "there's no fear of your getting half-seas-over
on that tipple!"
"I only wish I _was_ half-seas-over, or even a quarter that length.
Your health, sir!" returned Brown, with a sigh, as he drained the last
cup.
Just then Peter the Great burst into the kitchen in a very elated
condition.
"Geo'ge," he cried, "you be off. Massa wants you--'meeditly. But fust,
let me ax--you understan' de place among de rocks whar Brown's mates and
de boat am hidden?"
"Yes, I know the place well."
"You knows how to get to it?"
"Of course I do."
"Das all right; now come along--come along, you sham nigger, wid me.
Has you got enuff?"
"Bustin'--all but."
"Das good now; you follow me; do what you's tol'; hol' you tongue, an'
look sharp, if you don' want your head cut off."
"Heave ahead, cap'n; I'm your man."
The two left the house together and took the road that led to the hill
country in rear of the dwelling.
Meanwhile George Foster went to the chamber of the Moor. He found his
master seated, as was his wont, with the hookah before him, but with the
mouthpiece lying idly on his knee, and his forehead resting on one hand.
So deeply was he absorbed in communing with his own thoughts, that he
did not observe the entrance of his slave until he had been twice
addressed. Then, looking up as if he had been slightly startled, he
bade him sit down.
"George Foster," he began impressively, at the same time applying a
light to his hookah and puffing sedately, "you will be glad to hear that
I have been successful with my suit to the Dey. God has favoured me;
but a great deal yet remains to be done, and that must be done by
_you_--else--"
He stopped here, looked pointedly at the middy, and delivered the
remainder of his meaning in pufflets of smoke.
"I suppose you would say, sir, that unless it is done by me it won't be
done at all?"
To this the Moor nodded twice emphatically, and blew a thin cloud
towards the ceiling.
"Then you may count upon my doing my utmost, if that which I am to do is
in the interest of Hester Sommers or her father, as no doubt it is."
"Yes, it is in their interest," rejoined Ben-Ahmed. "I have done my
part, but dare not go further; for much though I love little Hester--who
has been to me as a sweet daughter--I must not risk my neck for her
unnecessarily. But, if I mistake not, you are not unwilling to risk
that?"
"Ay, fifty necks would I risk for her sake if I had them," returned our
middy with enthusiasm, for he was in that stage of love which glories in
the acknowledgment of thraldom.
Ben-Ahmed looked at him with interest, sighed, and sought solace in the
pipe.