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

be put up for sale in the public slave-market if the tribute due by Denmark were not paid without further delay.

“Trust me, madam,” said the Colonel with indignation, “we shall not suffer this barbarian to carry out his threats, and we will, moreover, see instant justice done to your husband.”

Hastily writing several notes requesting a meeting with his brother consuls in the residence of the Dane, he despatched them by his two satellites, and very speedily the whole were assembled.

“Gentlemen,” said Colonel Langley, after some conversation, “it is imperative that we should act at once, unitedly and with decision. Anything like vacillation at such a crisis will encourage these barbarians to proceed to extremities which may end in our ruin. Need I call to your remembrance the recent case of the unhappy Dutch consul, who had dwelt twenty-three years in this city, and who, although an old and infirm man, was loaded with irons of sixty pounds’ weight, and marched out to labour with the other slaves, from which treatment he soon after died—all, forsooth, because his government had delayed to send the accustomed annual ‘present’ to the Dey at the appointed time? It concerns us all, gentlemen, that we should act promptly. We must proceed in a body at once—within this hour—to the palace, and demand that our brother consul shall instantly be set at liberty. For this purpose, if you agree with me, we must elect one of our number to be spokesman.”

At this point the other consuls interrupted the Colonel, by begging him to accept the office, and to lead them out at once.

“I accept it with pleasure,” said the Colonel, turning to Rais Ali, who stood at his elbow.—“Rais, you will accompany me to interpret—”

“Oh, Monsieur!” exclaimed Rais, who had not many minutes before been boasting to his friend Flaggan that he was a brave English tar as good as himself, but who now turned very pale; “oh no, no! Please, Monsieur, demand me not to go dis time for interprit. For certain the Dey hims kill me—hims kill all of us.”

“Well then, Rais,” replied the Colonel, somewhat amused at the man’s undisguised terror, “we shall all die together, and you will at least have the comfort of falling in goodly company.”

“But, master,” supplicated Rais, “I’s not a Turk; me dare not defy the Dey to hims visage. I’s only a craulie!”

By which the unhappy man meant to explain that he was only the son of a Turk by an Algerine mother, and that as such he could expect no mercy if he aided in bearding the Dey in his den; but the Colonel was inexorable, and poor Rais Ali was obliged to submit.

At this time, the English and French being at war, there existed a somewhat natural feeling of estrangement between the representatives of the two nations at Algiers. Colonel Langley thought the present a good opportunity to effect a better understanding between them. He therefore offered his arm to the French consul, who accepted it politely, though with feelings of surprise. Thus they walked out two and two into the street, and marched down the principal thoroughfare, across the great square, and straight into the palace.

The amazement of the Algerines at this sight was great, for they were well aware of the bad feeling which had for many years existed between the leading couple in this little procession, or rather between their predecessors, some of whom had taken undignified, not to say disgraceful, methods of displaying their jealousy.

“Allah!” exclaimed the Algerines, turning up their eyes, “the English and French consuls walking together! Surely the old prophecy is about to come true, ‘When Christians are at peace among themselves the downfall of Algiers is decreed!’”

It is said that there really does exist a very old prophecy to this effect among the Mussulmans of Algeria, and certain it is that the prophecy was ultimately fulfilled, but at the time of which we write it was only anticipated.

Demanding an immediate audience, the party were admitted into the presence-chamber, where they created feelings of great surprise in the breasts of the pirate-king and his piratical courtiers.

When Rais Ali had tremblingly translated the demand which had been made with stern dignity by his master, the Dey flew into a towering rage, and actually foamed at the mouth, as he replied—

“Why art thou not glad that I thus punish your old enemy? Was not England lately at war with Denmark?”

“I am not glad,” answered the British consul, “because it is against the spirit of Christianity to cultivate feelings of revenge, and the fact that we were not long since at war with Denmark is no doubt the very reason why the Danes have found it difficult to pay, at the exact time, the debt which they will unquestionably discharge before long; but if your highness continues to act thus to their representative, in despite of his inviolable character, and in defiance of treaties wherein it is specified that the persons and families of consuls are to be held sacred, you may rest assured that no civilised nation will continue to treat with you.”

“What care the Deys of Algiers for the persons of consuls, which you deem so sacred?” said Omar savagely. “Hast thou not heard that in time past we have blown the consuls of refractory nations from the months of our cannon?”

“I have,” replied the Colonel calmly, “and I have also heard that Algiers has been several times bombarded, and nearly reduced to ashes. I do not presume to use threats to your highness,” added the consul firmly, though respectfully, “but I am here as spokesman of these representatives of various powers, to assure you that if you do not release the consul of Denmark immediately, we will all write to our respective governments to send vessels of war to remove us from a court where the law of nations is not respected.”

Omar attempted to bluster a little more, but had sense enough to perceive that he had already gone too far, and at length consented to grant the consuls’ demands. The condemned consul was immediately set at liberty, and his brethren returned to his residence in the same manner as they had left it, with this difference, that the French and English consuls walked in front, with the representative of Denmark between them.

This incident, as may be imagined, did not improve Omar’s temper. Immediately after it, he issued some stringent decrees in reference to the slaves, and ordered the execution of six chief men of the State, whose presence in the city had been a source of danger to the consolidation of his power. Among other things, he made some stern laws in reference to runaway slaves; and, having his attention drawn to the fact that the scrivano-grande of the late Achmet, and his assistant secretary, had not yet been discovered, he not only ordered the search for them to be continued with increased diligence, but took the unusual method of offering a reward to any one who should find or bring news of them.

This caused the matter to be widely talked about, and among others who heard of the proclamation was a little Moorish girl named Ziffa.

Now this Ziffa was the only daughter of Hadji Baba, the Court story-teller, who, like the Vicar of Bray, managed to remain in office, no matter who should come into or go out of power.

We are sorry to have to record the fact that Ziffa was a bad child—a particularly naughty little girl. She told lies, and was a little thief, besides being fond of that despicable habit styled eavesdropping. She listened behind doors and curtains and at key-holes without feeling a particle of shame! It is probable that the child’s attention would not have been arrested by the proclamation of the Dey, if it had not chanced that, during a visit which she was asked to pay to the garden of the British consul for the purpose of playing with Agnes Langley, she overheard Rais Ali and Ted Flaggan mention the name of Lucien Rimini. The seaman had found it necessary to take Rais into his confidence, and little Ziffa, in the exercise of her disgraceful vocation of eavesdropper, had overheard a little of their conversation about the Riminis. She did not, however, hear much, and, having no interest in the Riminis, forgot all about it.

On hearing the proclamation, however, she bethought her that something might be made out of the matter, if she could only manage to get her little friend Agnes to play the part of spy, and find out about things for her. Opportunity was not long wanting. She had an engagement that very day to go out to the consul’s garden to spend the day with Agnes, and a faithful old negro servant of her father was to conduct her thither.

Ziffa was extremely fond of finery. Just as she was about to set out, her eye fell on a splendid diamond ring which lay on her father’s dressing-table. Hadji Baba was very fond of this ring, as it had been a gift to him from Achmet, his former master, and he never went abroad without it, but a hasty summons to the palace had, on this occasion, caused him to forget it. As it was made for the little finger of Hadji Baba, which was remarkably thin, it exactly fitted the middle finger of Ziffa which was uncommonly fat. Seizing the ring, she thrust it into her bosom, resolving to astonish her friend Agnes. Then, running down-stairs to the old servant, she was soon on her way to the consul’s garden.

“Agnes,” she said, on finding herself alone with her friend, “I want you to do something for—”

“Oh what a lovely ring!” exclaimed Agnes, as Ziffa drew it out of her breast and put it on.

“Yes, isn’t it pretty? But I must not let my old servant see it, lest he should tell my father, who’d be very angry if he knew I had taken it.”

Agnes was taken by surprise, and remained silent. She had been so carefully trained to tell her father and mother everything, and to trust them, that it was a new and disagreeable idea to her the thought of doing anything secretly.

“Well, this is what I want,” continued Ziffa; “I want you to listen to the talk of Rais Ali and the sailor who lives with you, when they don’t know you are near, and tell me all that they say about a family named Rimini—will you?”

“Oh, I can’t do that,” said Agnes decidedly; “it would be wrong.”

“What would be wrong?” asked Mrs Langley, coming out from a side-walk in the garden at that moment to fetch the children in to lunch.

Agnes blushed, looked down, and said nothing. Her mother at once dropped the subject, and led them into the house, where she learned from Agnes the nature of her little friend’s proposal.

“Take no further notice of it, dear,” said her mother, who guessed the reason of the child’s curiosity.

Leaving the friends at lunch in charge of Paulina Ruffini, she hastened to find Ted Flaggan, whom she warned to be more careful how he conversed with his friend Rais.

“What puzzles me, ma’am,” said Ted, “is, how did the small critter understand me, seein’ that she’s a Moor?”

“That is easily explained: we have been teaching her English for some time, I regret to say, for the purpose of making her more of a companion to my daughter, who is fond of her sprightly ways. I knew that she was not quite so good a girl as I could have wished, but had no idea she was so deceitful. Go, find Rais Ali at once, and put him on his guard,” said Mrs Langley, as she left the seaman and returned to the house.

Now, if there ever was a man who could not understand either how to deceive, or to guard against deception, or to do otherwise than take a straight course, that man was