The Pirate City: An Algerine Tale by R. M. Ballantyne (best novels ever .txt) 📕

at first by all the slaves at the delay of punishment in the case of Francisco and Mariano, but after the first hour or two had passed, they ceased to give the matter a thought.

When, therefore, the old man Giovanni entered the Bagnio and informed these two that the Dey had reprieved them, and commanded their attendance at the palace, their surprise was re-awakened, and speculation as to the cause of such unusual proceedings was revived.

“I am the bearer of still further tidings,” said the old man, taking a letter from a sort of wallet that hung from his shoulder, and handing it to Francisco.

“From Juliet!” exclaimed Francisco, tearing it open and reading aloud eagerly:—

“‘Dearest Father,—It is not possible to express to you the agony that we endured on hearing that you had been taken captive by the Algerines. Oh, why are such monsters allowed to live? (“Why, indeed!” interjected Francisco, bitterly.) But take comfort. God watches over us all. Some of your old friends here have begun to collect money for your ransom, and I work hard to increase the sum—but oh! how slowly it grows! Even darling grandmamma has got some light sewing work which brings in a little. But our hearts mourn because of you. We earnestly hope that the pirates treat you well, (“Thank God they do not know anything about that,” muttered Francisco), and we feel almost sure that they do, because we have been told that they are careful of the slaves who, they hope, will be ransomed. I have therefore written to the Dey—how I hated him while I wrote the humble letter!—telling him that we hoped to raise the sum in a short time. Every one here is very kind and sympathises with us, besides giving a contribution to the fund.

“‘This letter goes by a French vessel which is to touch at Algiers, and which conveys a priest who has a large sum of money with him to ransom Sicilian and other slaves. I entreated him to ransom you with part of it, but he smiled pitifully, and said the money had been raised by the friends of particular slaves, some of whom had been many years in captivity, and that it could not be diverted from its proper objects. How my heart sank when he spoke of some being in slavery for many years! But it was cheered again when I reflected how hard we are all working to raise the money for you and Lucien and Mariano. We send you all our dear love.—Your affectionate daughter.

“Shall I have an opportunity of answering this?” asked Francisco, eagerly.

“Yes; I am about to conduct you to the palace, where your son Lucien—who, I may mention, is a favourite—awaits you.”

“You mustn’t let them know the truth, father,” said Mariano earnestly.

“Would you have him tell them what is false?” asked the Padre gravely.

“No, no,” replied the youth, with a laugh, “but there is no occasion to mention all that we have suffered, you know; and there is a good deal—I mean a little—that is agreeable to communicate. For instance, this very summons to the palace, and Lucien’s good luck.”

“Trust me, lad,” said Francisco; “I won’t fail to cheer them if I can, and you may be sure I won’t exaggerate our misfortunes.—But lead on, old man; I am anxious to get out of this foul den as quickly as—”

“Forgive me, comrades,” he added, checking himself, and turning to the slaves near him; “I am grieved more than I can tell to leave you behind. If by remaining I could lighten your sorrows, I would gladly do so. It may seem presumptuous in one who is himself a slave to say so, yet I can’t help assuring you that if the Almighty is pleased to give me any power in this city, I won’t forget you.”

This speech was received with a kindly nod by some, and a laugh of scorn by others.

Probably the latter had heard similar sentiments before from somewhat kindred and hearty spirits, and had learned from sad experience that nothing ever came of their good-will.

Following the old man, the father and son were soon in the presence of Lucien, who received them, as may well be believed, with a full heart.

“God bless you, my son,” said Francisco, “for well assured am I that it is through your influence that we are here.”

“It is through the influence of the British consul,” replied Lucien.

“Well, I pray for a blessing on you both, for it is useless to tell me that you have had no hand in it.”

“I do not say that I had no hand in it. On the contrary, I wrote out the order for your acquittal; and,” added Lucien, with a peculiar smile, “I also had previously written out your and Mariano’s death-warrant!”

“You are jesting, lad,” said Francisco.

“Indeed, I am not,” returned Lucien, relating the circumstances of the whole matter to his astonished and somewhat horrified auditors.

“And now,” he continued, “I must let you know your destination. Don’t be disappointed. You must remember that we are slaves, and have just been delivered from the Bagnio. The Dey seems to have taken a fancy for me—”

“I don’t wonder,” interrupted Mariano enthusiastically, seizing and squeezing his brother’s hand.

“And,” continued Lucien, “he has permitted me to select situations for you. I have arranged that you, father, shall be my assistant in the secretary’s office, and that you, Mariano, shall be shopman to Bacri the Jew.”

Lucien looked awkwardly at his father and brother as he spoke, feeling uncertain, no doubt, as to the manner in which they would receive this information. He was therefore rather relieved than otherwise by a smile on the face of Mariano.

“Why, Lucien,” he said, “I always thought you a great original, and this last display of your powers confirms me in my opinion. Not that I deem it strange your having appointed father your clerk—for, in the circumstances, it would have been charity to have appointed him even to the office of shoe-black—anything being better than the Bagnio,—but what wild fancy induced you to make me shop-boy to a Jew?”

“That,” replied Lucien, “you shall find out in good time—only, pray, remember that I am not the Dey’s Grand Vizier, and have not many places to offer.”

“Well, well, be it so,” returned the other; “I am well content with what your wisdom provides.”

“And so am I,” said Francisco, cheerfully. “I suppose you will feed us better than we have been fed of late?”

“That will I, father, but there is no pay attached to your offices, for slaves, you know, get no wages.”

“They get splendid habiliments, it would seem,” observed Francisco, regarding his son with twinkling eyes. “But come, Lucien, I am all impatience to begin the work of under-secretary of state! You bear in remembrance, I trust, that I can read and write nothing save my mother tongue?”

“Yes; Italian will suffice, father; such of the duties as you fail to perform I can easily fulfil.—Now, Mariano,” he said, taking his brother aside, and speaking in a low earnest tone, “see that you act wisely in the situation I have selected for you. The Jew is a kind, good man, despite what is said about his worship of Mammon. I would that all in this city were like him, for in that case we should have no slavery. During the short period I have held my office, my eyes have been opened to much that I may not mention. There, the very walls of this palace have ears! I have said enough. You remember Angela?”

“Remember her!” exclaimed Mariano, with a deep flush and a look of intense surprise, “how can you ask me, Lucien?”

“Well, you will hear of her from Bacri. Good bye—go!”

He rang a bell as he spoke, and ordered the slave who answered the summons to lead Mariano to the abode of Bacri; at the same time he took his father’s hand and conducted him to his office or bureau.

Amazed at all that had happened, particularly at his summary dismissal by his brother, the youth followed his conductor in silence, and in a short time reached the iron-bolted door of the chief of the Jews.

“This is Bacri’s house,” said his guide in Italian, and, having discharged this duty, he turned on his heel, and abruptly left him.

Pausing a moment to think, and finding that the more he thought the less he seemed to be capable of thinking to any purpose, Mariano applied his knuckles to the door.

For a youth of his character it was a timid knock, and produced no result.

Mariano was one who—in peculiar circumstances, like those in which at that time he found himself—might once in a way act with timidity, but he was not the man to act so twice. Finding that the first knock was useless, he hit the door a blow that caused the old house to resound. In a few seconds it was opened slightly, and the face of a beautiful girl in Jewish costume appeared.

If Mariano had been suddenly petrified he could not have stood more rigidly motionless; amazement sat enthroned on his countenance.

“Angela!”

“Signor Mariano!”

The words in each case were followed by a deep flush, and Angela retreated.

Of course Mariano advanced.

“Excuse—forgive me, signorina,” he exclaimed, taking her hand respectfully. “I did not know—of course I could not—how was it possible that—the fact is, I came to see a Jew, and—and—”

“I’ve found a jewel,” he might have said, but that didn’t seem to occur to him!

“Bacri—that’s his name!” continued Mariano. “Is Bacri within? I came to see him, but—”

“Yes—Signor Bacri is at home,” said Angela, much confused by the youth’s confusion, as well as by the sudden and unexpected nature of the meeting. “But your father—and brother Lucien—Oh, I hope they are well; that they have not been treated cruelly; that they are not in that dreadful Bagnio, of which I have heard so much,” said Angela, at last finding the use of her tongue.

They were interrupted at this point by the appearance of Bacri himself, who welcomed the youth to his house, said that he had been told by Lucien to expect him, and introduced him to his wife and the other members of his family.

Thereafter the Jew took his new shopman into his private apartment, and made many strange revelations to him in regard to the affairs of the piratical city, as well as about the details of his new appointment, in regard to which we shall say nothing here; but it may be well to add that Mariano finally retired for the night well satisfied with the wisdom of his elder brother.

For some time after this, things went well with those actors in our tale in whose welfare we are chiefly interested.

Francisco proved himself to be an able clerk—when assisted by his superior!—and Mariano became a most willing and useful shopman—with the prospect before him of returning each night to bask in the sunshine of Angela’s countenance!

At the consul’s residence Paulina was as happy as was possible in her sad circumstances, for she became very fond of Mrs Langley, and was a perfect treasure in the house,—not only taking a large part of the management thereof, but keeping watchful guard over the dangerous Zubby, so that that Zaharan specimen of humanity inflicted a perceptibly smaller percentage of bumps on the head of Master Jim than in former times. Paulina’s baby, too, began to indicate signs of intelligence by crowing, knocking over whatever it came within reach of, and endeavouring to dig the eyes out of every one who permitted familiarities, especially the eyes of Master Jim, who, it is but fair to add, soon displayed superior capacity in the same line, so that the parents agreed mutually that they would soon be sweet playmates to each other, and that they were the most delicious babes that ever were or could be born. Ted Flaggan also remained a happy inmate of the consul’s abode, awaiting the arrival of a British vessel which might enable