The Pirate City by Robert Michael Ballantyne (suggested reading TXT) 📕

/> Lucien extended his hand as he spoke, and Bacri grasped it kindly.

"Bah! you are fools; all of you arrant idiots!" cried a wild-looking ragged man in the neighbouring cell, starting up and glaring at them as he clenched his fists. "What avails Christianity, or Judaism, or anything else here? 'Tis a world of fiends!--ha, ha! murderers, tormentors, hypocrites,--ha! ha!"

Here the man gave vent to a burst of wild ferocious laughter, so loud that even the careless and callous warder was disturbed, and rattled his keys as if about to enter. The sound appeared to send a chill to the heart of the captive; an expression of terror overspread his thin haggard features, and he shrunk together as he retired quickly to the remotest corner of his cell.

"A maniac, I fear," said Francisco in a low tone, observing that the Jew regarded him with a look of pity.

"No, not quite mad," replied Bacri in the same low tone, "but sometimes very near it, I think. Poor man, I know him well. He has been fifteen years a prisoner in Algiers. When first brought here he was as fine a specimen of a Genoese youth as I ever saw. His name is Lorenzo Benoni. He was captured with his wife and two children, all of whom died before the first year was out. Of course, although in the same city, he was never again permitted to see wife or children. He was very dangerous at first, attacking and nearly killing his guards whenever he got a chance, and frequently attempting to take his own life, so that they were obliged to make him work constantly in heavy irons, and, I need scarcely add, bastinadoed and tortured him until his body became a mass of bruises from head to foot. They subdued him, in the course of years, to a condition of callous and brutal indifference to everything, and at last his great strength began to give way. He is now considered incapable of doing much injury to any one, and seems almost tamed. The Turks think that this has been brought about by sickness and starvation; it may be partly so, but I cannot help thinking that, despite the contempt which, in a sudden burst of passion, he poured on it just now, religion has something to do with it, for I have noticed a considerable change in him since he began to listen to the voice of an old man who has been a true friend of the poor slaves since long before I came here. The old man professes, at least he teaches, your religion; but I know not to what sect he belongs. Indeed, I think he belongs to none. This, however, am I sure of, that he holds equally by our Scriptures and your Testament as being the whole Word of God."

The three captives listened to this narration with sinking hearts, for it opened up a glimpse of the terrible and hopeless future that lay before themselves, so that for some time they sat gazing in silence at their visitor, and at the miserable beings who were devouring the last crumbs of their black bread around them.

"I came to see you," continued Bacri, "partly to assure you of the comparative safety of the girls who interested us all so much on board the vessel of Sidi Hassan, and partly to say that I will do what lies in my power to alleviate your sad condition. With Lucien's education and knowledge of languages, it may be possible to get him into the immediate service of the Dey, in which case he will be able to aid his father and brother."

"Have you, then, much influence with the Dey?" asked Francisco.

"None," replied the Jew, with a sad smile. "I have already told you that the pirates detest us; that we are tolerated only because of our money-making powers, and the ease with which they can bleed us when they want gold. But I have some influence with others in the city who have power to move the Dey. There is one thing, however," here the Jew glanced pointedly at Mariano, "in regard to which I would give you most earnest counsel, namely, that you should at once dismiss all idea of rebellion. It will be utterly unavailing. You may, like the caged lion, if you will, dash yourselves to death against your prison bars, but you cannot break them. Countless thousands of bold and brave spirits have attempted this plan, with no good result, in time past. The Turks are well acquainted with and quite prepared for it. Your only chance of mitigating the woes of your condition lies in submission."

"It were better and nobler to die than to submit," said Mariano gloomily.

"It were better and nobler to bow to the will of the Almighty than to commit suicide," retorted Bacri, somewhat sternly. "It is selfishness and pride which induces us to seek deliverance from sorrow and suffering in death. There are men who have thought that truest nobility lay in choosing a life in the midst of suffering and woe for the purpose of alleviating it, and who have acted on their opinion. This lesson, however, is not so frequently learnt by us through precept as in the school of sorrow."

Mariano felt abashed, yet at the same time rather nettled.

"Truly, then," he said, with a glance at his blood-stained shirt, "it seems to me that I have at all events begun my lesson in the right school. However, I believe thou art right, Bacri, and I bear thee no ill-will for the rap thou didst bestow on my skull, which, luckily, is a thick one, else thy ponderous fist had split it from the cranium to the chin."

"We had misjudged you, Bacri," said Francisco, extending his hand, as the Jew rose to depart.

"We will lay your advice to heart; and we thank you, meanwhile, for coming to see us in this foul den, which I dislike less because of moisture and dirt--these being familiar to me--than because of the lively reptiles which hold their nightly revels in it."

There was mingled humour and bitterness in Francisco's tone, as he uttered this sentence, which he concluded with a heavy sigh. Immediately after, the rusty bolts of their prison-door grated harshly on their ears, and they listened sadly to the retreating footsteps of one whom they now esteemed their only friend, as they died away in the distance.


CHAPTER SEVEN.


SOME NEW CHARACTERS WALK, GLIDE, AND FURIOUSLY GALLOP INTO THE TALE, AND OTHERWISE INTRODUCE THEMSELVES TO NOTICE.

In the interior court of a beautiful Moorish villa not far from the city, sat Mrs Langley, wife of Colonel Langley, British consul at the "Court" of Algiers.

The lady of whom we write was unusually romantic, for her romance consisted of a deep undercurrent of powerful but quiet enthusiasm, with a pretty strong surface-flow of common-sense. Her husband was a man of noble mind and commanding presence--a magnificent representative John Bull, with the polish of a courtier and the principles of a Christian; one who had been wisely chosen to fill a very disagreeable post, full of responsibility and danger.

On a stool at the feet of Mrs Langley sat a sunny second edition of herself, about eight years of age, named Agnes. In the cradle which Agnes had formerly occupied reposed a remarkably plump and dimpled representative of the Colonel. When respectfully addressed he was called Jim, but he was more familiarly known as Baby.

A small negress from beyond the Zahara, and blacker than any coal, rocked Jim violently. For this--not the rocking, but the violence--she had been unavailingly rebuked by Mrs Langley, until that lady's heart had nearly lost all hope.

"There--you have done it again, Zubby," said Mrs Langley, referring to a push that well-nigh rolled Master Jim, (as a sea-captain once said), out at the starboard side of the cradle.

Zubby confessed her guilt, by looking abashed--and what a solemn look an abashed one is in a negress with very large eyes!--as well as by rocking more gently.

Agnes vented a sudden little laugh at the expression of Zubby's face; and, the door opening at that moment, Colonel Langley entered the court, and sat down beside his wife under the giant leaves of a small banana-tree, whose life was drawn from a boxful of earth about three feet square.

"My dear," said the Colonel, "I have two rather amusing things to lay before you this evening. One is a gift from the Dey, the other is a letter. Which will you have first?"

"The gift, of course," replied the lady.

"Let her come in, Ali," called the Colonel to his interpreter, who stood in the passage outside.

Rais Ali, a Moor clad in the usual Turkish garb, but with a red fez or skull-cap on his head instead of a turban, threw open the door leading out of the court, and ushered in poor Paulina Ruffini with her child.

"Is _this_ the Dey's gift?" asked the astonished lady, rising hurriedly.

"It is; at least she is lent to us, and we are bound to accept her.-- Address her in French, my dear; she does not understand English. In fact, you'd better take her to your own room and have a talk."

Mrs Langley addressed to the poor captive a few reassuring words, and led her away, leaving the Colonel to amuse himself with Agnes.

"What has she been sent to us for?" asked Agnes.

"To be a serv--a companion to you and baby, my pet."

"That was kind of the Dey, wasn't it?" said the child.

"Well--ye-es; oh yes, doubtless, it was very kind of him," replied the Colonel.

We fear that the Colonel did not fully appreciate the kindness that resulted in the gift either of Paulina Ruffini as his servant, or of Sidi Hassan as his attendant, for he saw clearly that the former was unaccustomed to menial work, and he knew that Sidi Hassan was a turbulent member of the community. However, being a man of prompt action, and knowing that it was of the utmost importance that he should stand well in the good graces of the Dey, he resolved to receive Paulina into his establishment as governess of the nursery and companion to his wife, and to leave Sidi Hassan very much to the freedom of his own will, so long as that will did not interfere with the interests of the consulate.

On the return of his wife he listened to her pathetic account of Paulina's sad history, and then produced the letter to which he had referred on first entering.

"This letter necessitates my riding into town immediately. It is a curious document in its way, therefore lend me your ear."

Opening it he began to read. We give it _verbatim et literatim_:--

"_To the brittish Cownsul algeers_.

"7 _teenth Jully_, 18--

"Sur i'm an irishman an a sailer an recked on the cost of boogia wid
six of me messmaits hoo are wel an arty tho too was drowndid on landin
an wan wos spiflikated be the moors which are born divls an no
mistaik. I rite to say that weer starvin but the Kaid as they cals
the guvner Here says heel take a ransum for us of 150 spanish dolars