The Middy and the Moors: An Algerine Story

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TEN.

  TORTURE IS APPLIED IN VAIN, AND TRUE LOVE IS NOT TO BE DECEIVED.

  We must return now to the residence of Ben-Ahmed at Mustapha.

  When his son Osman--who had seen Hester only once and that for but a fewminutes--discovered that the fair slave had fled, his rage knew nobounds. He immediately sent for Peter the Great and sternly asked himif he knew how the English girl had escaped. Their intercourse, we mayremark, was carried on in the same curious manner as that referred to inconnection with Ben-Ahmed. Osman spoke in Lingua Franca and Peterreplied in his ordinary language.

  "Oh yes, massa, I know," said the latter, with intense earnestness; "sheescaped ober de wall."

  "Blockhead!" exclaimed the irate Osman, who was a sturdy butill-favoured specimen of Moslem humanity. "Of course I know that, but_how_ did she escape over the wall?"

  "Don' know dat, massa. You see I's not dere at de time, so can't'zactly say. Moreober, it was bery dark, an' eben if I's dar, Icouldn't see peepil in de dark."

  "You lie! you black scoundrel! and you know that you do. You could tellme much more about this if you chose."

  "No, indeed, I don't lie--if a slabe may dar to counterdick his massa,"returned Peter humbly. "But you's right when you say I could tell youmuch more. Oh! I could tell you _heaps_ more! In de fuss place I wassotin' wid de oder slabes in de kitchen, enjoyin' ourselves artersupper, w'en we hear a cry! Oh my! how my heart jump! Den all our legsjump, and out we hoed wid lanterns an--"

  "Fool! don't I know all that? Now, tell me the truth, has the Englishslave, George Fos--Fos--I forget his name--"

  "Geo'ge Foster," suggested the negro, with an amiable look.

  "Yes; has Foster had no hand in the matter?"

  "Unpossible, I t'ink," said Peter. "You see he was wid me and all deoder slabes when de girl hoed off, an' I don't t'ink eben a Englishmankin be in two places at one time. But you kin ax him; he's in degardin."

  "Go, fetch him," growled the young Moor, "and tell four of my men tocome here. They are waiting outside."

  The negro retired, and, soon after, four stout Moorish seamen entered.They seemed worthy of their gruff commander, who ordered them to standat the inner end of the room. As he spoke he took up an ironinstrument, somewhat like a poker, and thrust it into a brazier whichcontained a glowing charcoal fire.

  Presently Peter the Great returned with young Foster. Osman did notcondescend to speak directly to him, but held communication through thenegro.

  Of course our hero could throw no light on the subject, being utterlyignorant of everything--as Peter had wisely taken the precaution toensure--except of the bare fact that Hester was gone.

  "Now, it is my opinion," said Osman, with a savage frown, "that you areboth deceiving me, and if you don't tell the truth I will take means toforce it out of you."

  Saying this he turned to the brazier and pulled out the iron poker tosee that it was becoming red-hot. The countenance of the negro becamevery grave as he observed this, and the midshipman's heart sank withinhim.

  "So you deliberately tell me," said the Moor abruptly, as he wheeledround and confronted Peter the Great, "that you have no knowledge as towhere, or with whom, this girl is?"

  "No, massa," answered the negro, with solemn sincerity. "If you was toskin me alive I not able to tell you whar she is or who she is wid."

  Peter said no more than this aloud, but he added, internally, that hewould sooner die than give any further information, even if he had it togive.

  Osman made a motion with his hand as a signal to the four seamen, who,advancing quickly, seized the negro, and held him fast. One of the menthen stripped off the poor man's shirt. At the same moment Osman drewthe red-hot iron from the fire, and deliberately laid it on Peter'sback, the skin of which hissed and almost caught fire, while a cloud ofsmoke arose from it.

  The hapless victim did not struggle. He was well aware that resistancewould be useless. He merely clenched his teeth and hands. But whenOsman removed the iron and applied it to another part of his broad backa deep groan of agony burst from the poor fellow, and beads ofperspiration rolled from his brow.

  At first George Foster could scarcely believe his eyes. He was almostparalysed by an intense feeling of horror. Then there came a tremendousrebound. Rage, astonishment, indignation, fury, and a host of cognatepassions, met and exploded in his bosom. Uttering a yell thatharmonised therewith, he sprang forward, hit Osman a straight Englishleft-hander between the eyes, and followed it up with a right-hander inthe gullet, which sent the cruel monster flat on the floor, and his headsaluted the bricks with an effective bump. In his fall the Mooroverturned the brazier, and brought the glowing fire upon his bosom,which it set alight--his garments being made of cotton.

  To leap up with a roar of pain and shake off the glowing cinders was thework of a moment. In the same moment two of the stout seamen threwthemselves on the roused midshipman, and overcame him--not, however,before one of them had received a black eye and the other a bloody nose,for Moors do not understand the art of self-defence with the fists.

  "Down with him!" shouted Osman, when he had extinguished the flames.

  He seized a supple cane, or wand, as the seamen threw Foster down, andheld his feet in the air, after tearing off his shoes.

  Wild with fury, Osman brought the cane down on the poor youth's soles.It was his first taste of the bastinado. The agony took him bysurprise, and extorted a sharp yell. Next moment his teeth were in thecalf of one of the men's legs, and his right hand grasped the baggytrousers of the other. A compound kick and plunge overturned them both,and as they all fell into a heap, the cheek of one seaman received astinging blow that was meant for the middy's soles.

  Things had reached this crisis, and Peter the Great, having hurled asidehis two assailants, was on the point of rushing to the rescue of hisfriend, when the door burst open, and Ben-Ahmed stood before themquivering with indignation.

  "Is this your return for my forbearance? Be-gone!" he shouted to hisson in a voice of thunder.

  Osman knew his father too well to require a second bidding. He left theroom angrily, and a look from Ben-Ahmed sent the four sailors after him.

  The Moor was too well accustomed to his wild son's ways to require anyexplanation of the cause of the fracas. Just giving one glance at hisslaves, to make sure that neither was killed, he left the room ashastily as he had entered it.

  "My poor friend," exclaimed the middy, grasping the negro's hand with agush of mingled enthusiasm and pity, "I trust you have not been muchinjured by that inhuman brute?"

  "Oh, bress you! no. It do smart a bit," returned Peter, as he put onhis shirt uneasily, "an' I's used to it, Geo'ge, you know. But how'syour poo' feet?"

  "Well, I'm not vary sure," replied Foster, making a wry face as he satdown to examine them. "How it did sting, Peter! I owe a heavy debt ofgratitude to old Ben-Ahmed for cutting it short. No, the skin's notdamaged, I see, but there are two or three most awful weals. D'youknow, I never before this day felt sorry that I wasn't born a dog!"

  "Why's dat, Geo'ge?"

  Because then I should have been able to make my teeth meet in yonfellow's leg, and would have held on! Yes, I don't know what I wouldnot have given just at that time to have been born a mastiff, or a hugeSaint Bernard, or a thoroughbred British bull-dog, with double the usualallowance of canines and grinders!

  The negro threw back his head and began one of his silent laughs, butsuddenly stopped, opened his eyes wide, pursed his lips, and moved hisbroad shoulders uneasily.

  "I mus' laugh _easy_ for some time to come," he remarked.

  "Poor fellow!" said Foster, "I fear you must. I say--how my soles dosting!"

  "Oh yes, _I_ knows," returned Peter, with a remarkably intelligent nod."But come. We mus' go an' see what massa's a-goin' to do, for you berysure he won't rest quiet till he's turned ebery stone to find MissyHester."

  Peter the Great left the room with a brave effort to suppres
s a groan;while our middy followed with an equally valorous determination not tolimp. In both efforts they were but partially successful.

  As Peter had prophesied, Ben-Ahmed did indeed leave no stone unturned torecover Hester Sommers, but there was one consideration which checkedhim a good deal, and prevented his undertaking the search as openly ashe wished, and that was the fear that the Dey himself might get wind ofwhat he was about, and so become inquisitive as to the cause of the stirwhich so noted a man was making about a runaway slave. For Ben-Ahmedfeared--and so did Osman--that if the Dey saw Hester he might want tointroduce her into his own household.

  The caution which they had therefore to observe in prosecuting thesearch was all in favour of the runaway.

  As time passed by, Hester, _alias_ Geo'giana, began to feel more at easein her poor abode and among her new friends, who, although unrefined inmanners, were full to overflowing with the milk of human kindness, sothat at last the unfortunate English girl began to entertain positiveaffection for Mrs Lilly and her black handmaiden.

  She also began to feel more at ease in traversing the intricate streetsof the city, for the crowds that passed her daily had evidently too muchto do attending to their own business to bestow more than an indifferentglance at two negro girls. And if the features of one of the two wasnot according to the familiar negro type, it is probable that all theinhabitants of Algiers were aware of the fact that some of the tribes ofblack people in the interior of Africa possess the well-formed featuresand comparatively thin lips of Europeans.

  As Hester's anxieties about herself began to abate, however, her desireto find out where and how her father was became more and more intense.But the poor child was doomed to many months of hope deferred beforethat desire was gratified.

  Peter the Great did indeed make a few efforts to meet with him again--sometimes in company with George Foster, more frequently alone, andoccasionally he visited Hester--having been informed by his sister Dinahwhere to find her--in order to tell of his want of success, and tocomfort her with earnest assurances that he would "neber forsake her,"but would keep up a constant look-out for her fadder an' an eye onherself.

  Consideration for the girl's safety rendered it necessary that thesevisits should be few and far between, and, of course, owing to the samenecessity, our middy was not permitted to visit her at all. Indeed,Peter refused to tell him even where she was hiding, all the informationhe condescended to give being that she was safe.

  "You see, my dear," said Peter to Hester, in a paternal tone, on theoccasion of the first of these visits, "if I was to come yar oftin,massa--spec'ally Osman--would 'gin to wonder, an' de moment a man 'ginsto wonder he 'gins to suspec', an' den he 'gins to watch; an' if itcomes to dat it's all up wid you an' me. So you mus' jest keep closean' say nuffin till de tide 'gins to turn an' de wind blow fair. Degood Lord kin turn wind an' tide when He likes, so keep your heart up,Geo'giana!"

  As he uttered the last word the negro put his great hand on the girl'sshoulder and patted it.

  "_What_ a good name Geo'giana am," he continued, bringing his eyes tobear on the slender little black creature before him; "an' _what_ a goodnigger you would make if on'y you had an elegant flat nose an' bootifulthick hips. Neber mind, you's better lookin' dan Sally, anyhow, an' nomortal could guess who you was, eben if he was told to look hard atyou!"

  "But oh, Peter, this is such an anxious, weary life," began Hester, witha trembling lip.

  "Now, hold on dar!" interrupted the negro, almost sternly; "you _mus'__not_ cry, whateber you do, for it washes off de black. You mus' larnto cumtroul your feelin's."

  "I will try," returned Hester, attempting to smile. "But it is not thatI am discontented with my lot, for they are as kind to me here as ifthey were my mother and sister, and I like doing the embroidery workvery much--it's not that. It is the weary waiting, and hoping for, andexpecting news of my darling father--news which _never_ comes."

  "Now, don't you t'ink like dat, Geo'giana, but larn to submit--submit--das de word. De news'll come all in good time. An' news allers comesin a heap--suddently, so to speak. It _neber_ comes slow. Now, lookyar. I wants you to make me a solum promise."

  "What is that?" asked Hester, smiling in spite of herself at theintensity of her dark friend's look and manner.

  "It am dis. Dat you will neber look surprised, nor speak surprised, nomatter howeber much you may _feel_ surprised."

  "You impose a difficult task on me, Peter."

  "Ob course I do, Geo'giana, but as your life--an' p'r'aps mine, but datain't much--depends on it, you'll see de needcessity."

  "I will certainly try--for your sake as well as my own," returned Hesterfervently.

  "Well, I t'ink you will, but it ain't easy, an' I'll test you some day."

  It was more than a month after that before Peter the Great paid heranother visit, and, to the poor girl's grief, he still came without newsof her father. He had been all over the Kasba, he said, and many otherplaces where the slaves worked, but he meant to persevere. The city wasbig, and it would take time, but "Geo'giana" was to cheer up, for hewould _neber_ gib in.

  One morning Peter announced to Foster that he was going into town tomake purchases, and he wanted his assistance to carry the basket.

  "Are we going to make another search for poor Mr Sommers?" asked themiddy, as he walked along the road holding one handle of the emptybasket.

  "No, we's got no time for dat to-day. I mus' be back early. Got timeon'y for one call on a friend ob mine. Das all."

  As the negro did not seem inclined for conversation, Foster forebore totrouble him, but observed, without remarking on the circumstance, that,instead of taking their accustomed way to the market-place, they passedalong many narrow, steep, and intricate streets until they reached whatthe midshipman conceived to be the very heart of the city.

  "Dis am de house ob my friend," said Peter, stopping in front of anopening which descended into a cellar. "Foller me, Geo'ge, an' bringdown de baskit wid you. Hallo, Missis Lilly! Is you widin?"

  "Hi! Das you, Peter de Great?" came in shrill tones from below as theydescended.

  "Dumb!" exclaimed Peter, with peculiar emphasis on reaching the cellar."How you do, Missis Lilly? Oberjoyed to see you lookin' so fresh. Justlooked in to ax how you's gettin' along."

  Need we say that Peter's warning word was not thrown away on HesterSommers, who was seated in her corner embroidering with gold thread apair of red morocco slippers. But, forewarned though she was, herpresence of mind was put to a tremendous test when, all unexpectedly,George Foster descended the steps and stood before her. Fortunately,while the youth was bestowing a hearty nautical greeting on Mrs Lilly--for his greeting was always hearty, as well to new acquaintances as toold friends--Hester had time to bend over her work and thus conceal thesudden pallor followed by an equally sudden flush which changed hercomplexion from a bluish grey to a burnt sienna. When George turned toglance carelessly at her she was totally absorbed in the slipper.

  The negro watched the midshipman's glance with keen interest. When hesaw that only a passing look was bestowed on Hester, and that he thenturned his eyes with some interest to the hole where Sally was poundingcoffee and gasping away with her wonted energy, he said to himselfmentally, "Ho, Dinah, but you _am_ a cleber woman! Geo'ge don't rigniseher more'n if she was a rigler coloured gal! I do b'lieve her ownfadder wouldn't know her!"

  He then proceeded to have a talk with Mrs Lilly, and while he was thusengaged the middy, who had an inquiring disposition, began to look roundthe cellar and take mental-artistic notes of its appearance. Then hewent up to Hester, and, taking up one of the finished slippers, examinedit.

  "Most beautiful! Exquisite!" he said. "Does it take you long to dothis sort of thing?"

  The girl did not reply.

  "She's dumb!" said Peter quickly.

  "Ah, poor thing!" returned Foster, in a voice of pity. "Deaf, too, Isuppose?"

  "Well, I don't know as to dat, Geo'ge."
<
br />   "Is this one dumb too?" asked the middy, pointing to the coffee-hole.

  "Oh dear no!" interposed Lilly. "Sally a'n't dumb; she's awrful sharpwith 'er tongue!"

  "She ought to be deaf anyhow, considering the row she kicks up downthere!"

  "Come now, Geo'ge, it's time we was goin'. So pick up de baskit an' goahead."

  Bidding Mrs Lilly an affectionate adieu, the two shaves left thecellar, to the intense relief of poor Hester, who scarce knew whether tolaugh or cry over the visit. She had been so eagerly anxious to speakto Foster, yet had managed to keep her promise in spite of thepeculiarly trying circumstances.

  "Peter," said the middy, when they had got well out of the town on theirway home, "what made you say `dumb' so emphatically when you descendedinto that cellar?"

  "_Did_ I say `dumb?'" returned the negro, with an inquiring look at theclouds.

  "You certainly did."

  "'Phatically, too?"

  "Yes, most emphatically."

  "Well, now, das most remarkably strange!"

  "Not so strange as my finding Hester Sommers in a coal-hole makinggolden slippers!"

  At this Peter set down the basket, threw back his head, and took aprolonged silent laugh.

  "Now dat _is_ de strangest t'ing ob all. Didn't I t'ink you not rigniseher one bit!"

  "Peter," returned the midshipman gravely, "you ought to know fromexperience that true love pierces every disguise."

  "Das troo, Geo'ge," said Peter, as he lifted his end of the basket andresumed the journey. "Lub is a wonderful t'ing, an' I ain't sure whatmight come ob it if I was took unawares to see my Angelica arter she'dbin painted white. But dere's one t'ing as comforts me a leetle, an'dat is, dat Peter de Great ain't de biggest hyperkrite in de world arterall, for de way you purtended not to know dat gal, an' de way shepurtended not to know _you_, hab took de wind out ob my sailsaltogidder!"