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

give proper attention to the Algerine wasps that stung them, and the wasps themselves were so besottedly ignorant of European affairs and of their own relative insignificance, so puffed up indeed by their supposed greatness—a delusion which was shamefully fostered by the action towards them of the great powers themselves—that they wilfully proceeded to extremities which a very little knowledge of other nations would have convinced them was the certain way to bring about their own ruin. The immense sums raised year after year by various European nations, and given to the pirates for the redemption of thousands of Christian slaves, proved that they were not indifferent to the scourge of the Mediterranean. (See Note 1.)

But in the midst of this disgraceful forbearance of the nations, there was an occasional growl from one and another, and a fierce side-glance at the wasps, which might have let them see that their nest was in danger.

For instance, in 1804 Admiral Nelson menaced the town with a large fleet, and not long afterwards the Americans absolutely declined to pay their “black-mail,” and sent a squadron to procure, or, if need were, to compel a favourable treaty of peace with the Algerines. Other clouds arose here and there and overhung the doomed city, but the infatuated pirates remained blind as bats and insolent as monkeys.

Thus matters stood when the Dey Omar ascended the throne, and for some time afterwards.

One morning the English consul was summoned to attend the divan of the Dey, in connexion with a vessel which had lately been brought in as a prize by one of the Algerine corsairs.

The consul had previously presented himself at Court—as did all the other consuls—to pay his respects to the new Dey, and on a subsequent occasion had made an effort to press a point which had always been a matter of deep interest with him, namely, the bringing about of peace between the Algerines and the Portuguese. There were many Portuguese slaves in the town and neighbourhood at the time, and several officers of that country dwelt there, exempt from the duty of labouring like beasts of burden at the works on the walls and about the harbour, solely in virtue of annual tribute being paid by their friends. The former Dey, Achmet, had declined to oblige his friend Colonel Langley by making peace with Portugal, on the ground that he could not forego the advantages resulting from a state of warfare. The new Dey, Omar, was still less capable of being influenced by considerations of humanity.

“What would you have?” he said, when Colonel Langley spoke to him on the subject; “my people are brigands, and I am their chief! If I make peace with Portugal, it will be absolutely necessary that I should declare war with America, merely to keep my people employed!”

This was at all events candid, and the consul felt that it would be vain to press the matter he had so much at heart as long as Omar occupied the throne.

On his way down to the Marina, where the divan referred to was to be held, he met Blindi Bobi looking rather disconsolate. Having an hour or more to spare, he resolved to have a chat with him.

“Well, Bobby, my boy,” said the consul kindly, for the eccentric interpreter was a favourite, “you seem sad. Nothing wrong, I hope?”

“Not wi’ me, nohow,” responded Bobi, shaking his head. “Nuffin never wrong wi’ me. Always too well. Health to the mast-head—more nor I knows wat to do wid. Wishes I could die, I do—sometimes.”

“I grieve to hear that,” said the consul earnestly, for he saw that the man was in no jesting humour. “Let me know what distresses you.”

“Sidi Cadua,” said Bobi.

“What! the father of poor Ashweesha, widow of my late friend Achmet Dey?” said the consul.

“Yis. Hush! Omar Dey—de divl,” growled Bobi in a low tones, “gits the berry stones to listen an’ reports wat peepil say.”

“Never fear,” returned the consul, smiling, “they dare not report what I say. Come, tell me about it.”

“Oh! it shockable,” said Bobi. “Come an’ see.” So saying, the poor man hurried off in the direction of a low-lying part of the town, closely followed by the consul. Here, seated on a plain mat in an empty cellar, which was destitute of furniture and almost of light, they found the father of the late Sultana. His gentle, kindly spirit seemed, like his frail old body, to be bowed to the very dust.

“My dear friend,” exclaimed the consul, almost overwhelmed with grief at the sight, “has the villain robbed you of all your wealth?”

“He has,” replied the old man, taking the consul’s proffered hand and pressing it warmly; “but he has done worse than that—”

“What! has he dared to—”

Sidi Cadua interrupted and answered the question by quietly removing the lower part of his robe, and exposing his feet, which were dreadfully swollen and scarred with the bastinado.

“Even that is not the worst of it,” said the old man, re-covering his mutilated feet; “my daughter, my sweet, tender Ashweesha, has been cruelly bastinadoed for—”

He broke down here, and, covering his face with his withered hands, groaned aloud.

For a few moments Colonel Langley could not speak.

“But why,” he said at length, “why such cruelty?”

Recovering himself, Sidi Cadua slowly related the circumstances. An enemy, he said, had accused him to the Dey Omar of having hidden away a large amount of treasure, and he had been put to the torture in order to force him to disclose the truth; but the truth was that he had never concealed treasure, and had no confession to make. Believing that his silence was the result of sheer obstinacy, and that the truth might perhaps be extorted from his daughter, the cruel monster had the gentle Ashweesha dragged from her apartments and subjected to the bastinado.

“Dreadful!” exclaimed the consul. “Where is she now?”

Sidi Cadua silently pointed to a ragged old burnous in a dark corner of the little cellar, under which a human form lay crouched up and motionless.

“Not dead?” asked the consul anxiously.

“No, not dead,” replied the old man, with an upward glance of gratitude.

“Sidi Cadua,” exclaimed the consul, rising hastily, “excuse my leaving you now. I have to attend the divan. You shall hear from me soon. You—you,”—looking round—“have no other house than this—no food?”

“Nothing!” said the old man in a low voice, as his white head sank on his bosom.

“Listen, my man,” said the consul earnestly, as he hastened down to the Marina.

“Yis, Signor,” answered Bobi.

“Can you find time to go out to my house just now?”

“Yis, Signor.”

“Then, go—go as fast as legs or horse can carry you. See my wife; tell her what we have seen; let her send Rais Ali into town with other servants—separately, not to attract attention—with baskets—full baskets, you understand?”

“Yis, Signor, full to bustin’,” answered Bobi, with glittering eyes.

“Full as they can hold of all that is needful—she will understand that.—There, be off—lose no time,” said the consul, thrusting a quantity of silver into the man’s hand.

“Kurnul Langley,” said Bobi, with enthusiasm glowing in his solitary eye, as he turned to go; “you—by the beard of the Prophet!—you’re the ace of trumps!”

With this strong, if not elegant expression of his sentiments, the sympathetic Bobi hurried away, and Colonel Langley entered the divan, where were assembled the Dey and the chief officers of state.

The discussion on that occasion was conducted warmly, for the pirates believed that they had made a good and legitimate prize in the shape of a Greek vessel, which was owned by a Mr and Mrs de Lisle, who, with their little son, were also captured.

Colonel Langley claimed these as British subjects, and the vessel as British property.

In this case the pirates had taken a precaution which, they had hoped, would save them all trouble. On boarding the vessel they had demanded all Mr de Lisle’s papers and passports, which, when delivered up, were torn into atoms and thrown into the sea. Thus they sought to destroy all evidence of the nature of the prize.

Mr de Lisle was a native of Guernsey, and therefore an English subject. Early in life he had entered a commercial house in Holland, and been naturalised there. Afterwards he was sent to a branch of the same house in Naples, which at that time was occupied by the French. Amassing considerable property, he resolved to return to his native land, and hired a Greek vessel, as being a neutral one, to convey him. On his way, he fell into the hands of the Algerines.

At the divan the British consul claimed that Mr de Lisle and his family and property should be delivered up to him.

The Turks, with whom Colonel Langley was out of favour now that his friend Achmet was dead, were furious. How could he be an Englishman, they said, when it was well-known that the French would not have permitted one of their chief enemies to remain at Naples?

“And besides,” added Omar, with a touch of sarcasm, “where are his papers to prove that what he says is true?”

The consul had made his demand with unusual firmness and dignity, for the memory of poor Sidi Cadua was strong upon him, but this latter remark somewhat perplexed him. Fortunately, at the moment, de Lisle himself, who was present, started up and said in English, across the divan—

“If I am permitted to go on board my vessel, I can still bring satisfactory evidence of my nationality.”

The Turks were extremely unwilling to concede this, but when the consul turned and said to the Dey, “I trust your highness will not refuse so reasonable a request,” he was permitted to go. In a short time he returned with the certificate of his marriage, which proved that he had been married in Guernsey, and was a British subject, to the inexpressible rage of the divan, who were compelled, however, to give in.

“Nevertheless, Monsieur le Console,” said the Dey sternly, “if it shall be proved, even twenty years hence, that you were wrong in this matter, you shall have to answer for it.”

From that time the British consul and the Dey became open enemies, which was a matter of gratulation to the consuls of some of the other powers, who had been rather jealous of Colonel Langley’s influence with the late Dey, Achmet.

Not long afterwards they would have been glad if his influence could have been restored; for Omar, being soured by what had occurred at the divan, as well as by many other things that crossed his imperious will, commenced to act in such an outrageous manner that the various consuls felt not only their independence but their lives in jeopardy.

Sending for the Danish consul one morning, Omar told that unfortunate man that his government had already been warned more than once to pay the tribute which was past due, and that he was going to stand their neglect no longer. He therefore ordered him to be put in chains, and sent forthwith to work in the stone-quarries.

The order was at once obeyed. A chaouse, at a signal from the Dey, seized the Danish consul by the waist-band, thrust him out of the palace, and along the streets to the Bagnio, there loaded him with chains, and led him forth to work with the slaves!

The consternation of the other consuls was of course extreme. The instant Colonel Langley heard of it, he ordered his horse and galloped into town, accompanied by Rais Ali and Ted Flaggan, the latter having constituted himself a sort of extra aide-de-camp or special attendant of the consul, in order to gratify the more easily an insatiable thirst for knowledge as to all that took place around him.

They went direct to the residence of the Danish consul, where they found his poor wife and children in the deepest grief and alarm at what had occurred, for it had been reported to them that Omar had said he would order the wife and children of the Danish consul to