“Ah me! ah me!”
There was no misdoubting that sweet voice: ’twas Moll’s. Then very softly Dawson begins to whistle her old favourite ditty “Hearts will break.” Scarce had he finished the refrain when Moll within took it up in a faint trembling voice, but only a bar, to let us know we were heard; then she fell a-laughing at her maids, who were whispering in alarm, to disguise her purpose; and so they left that part, as we knew by their voices dying away in the distance.
“She’ll come again,” whispers Dawson, feverishly.
And he was in the right; for, after we had stood there best part of an hour, we hear Moll again gently humming “Hearts will break,” but so low, for fear of being heard by others, that only we who strained so hard to catch a sound could be aware of it.
“Moll, my love!” whispers Dawson, as she comes to an end.
“Dear father!” answers she, as low.
“We are here—Kit and I. Be comforted, sweet chuck—you shall be free ere long.”
“Shall I climb the wall?” asks she.
“No, no—for God’s sake, refrain!” says I, seeing that Jack was half minded to bid her come to him. “You will undo all—have patience.”
At this moment other voices came to us from within, calling Lala Mollah; and presently the quick witch answers them from a distance, with a laugh, as if she had been playing at catch-who-can.
Then Dawson and I, turning about, discovered to our consternation Ali Oukadi standing quite close beside us, with folded arms and bent brows.
“You are unwise,” says he, in a calm tone.
“Nay, master,” says Jack, piteously. “I did but speak a word to my child.”
“If you understand our tongue,” adds I, “you will know that we did but bid her have patience, and wait.”
“Possibly,” says he. “Nevertheless, you compel me henceforth to keep her a close prisoner, when I would give her all the liberty possible.”
“Master,” says Jack, imploring, “I do pray you not to punish her for my fault. Let her still have the freedom of your garden, and I promise you we will go away this day and return no more until we can purchase her liberty for ever.”
“Good,” says the old man, “but mark you keep your promise. Know that ’tis an offence against the law to incite a slave to revolt. I tell you this, not as a threat, for I bear you no ill will, but as a warning to save you from consequences which I may be powerless to avert.”
This did seem to me a hint at some sinister design of Mohand ou Mohand—a wild suspicion, maybe, on my part, and yet, as I think, justified by evils yet to come.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Of our bargaining with a Moorish seaman; and of an English slave.
We lost no time, be sure, in going back to Alger, blessing God on the way for our escape, and vowing most heartily that we would be led into no future folly, no matter how simple and innocent the temptation might seem.
And now began again a tedious season of watching on the mole of Alger; but not to make this business as wearisome to others, I will pass that over and come at once to that joyful, happy morning, when, with but scant hope, looking down upon the deck of a galley entering the port, to our infinite delight and amazement we perceived Richard Godwin waving his hand to us in sign of recognition. Then sure, mad with joy, we would have cast ourselves in the sea had we thereby been able to get to him more quickly. Nor was he much less moved with affection to meet us, and springing on the quai he took us both in his open arms and embraced us. But his first word was of Moll. “My beloved wife?” says he, and could question us no further.
We told him she was safe, whereat he thanks God most fervently, and how we had spoken with her; and then he tells us of his adventures—how on getting Don Sanchez’s letter he had started forth at once with such help as Sir Peter Lely generously placed at his disposition, and how coming to Elche, he found Mrs. Godwin there in great anxiety because we had not returned, and how Don Sanchez, guessing at our case, had procured money from Toledo to pay Moll’s ransom, and did further charter a neutral galley to bring him to Alger—which was truly as handsome a thing as any man could do, be he thief or no thief. All these matters we discussed on our way to the Cassanabah, where Mr. Godwin furnished himself as we had with a trader’s permit for twenty-eight days.
This done, we set out with a team of good mules, and reaching Thadviir about an hour before sundown, we repaired at once to Ali Oukadi’s, who received us with much civility, although ’twas clear to see he was yet loath to give up Moll; but the sight of the gold Mr. Godwin laid before him did smooth the creases from his brow (for these Moors love money before anything on earth), and having told it carefully he writes an acknowledgment and fills up a formal sheet of parchment bearing the Dey’s seal, which attested that Moll was henceforth a free subject and entitled to safe-conduct within the confines of the Dey’s administration. And having delivered these precious documents into Mr. Godwin’s hands, he leaves us for a little space and then returns leading dear Moll by the hand. And she, not yet apprised of her circumstances, seeing her husband with us, gives a shrill cry, and like to faint with happiness totters forward and falls in his ready arms.
I will not attempt to tell further of this meeting and our passionate, fond embraces, for ’twas past all description; only in the midst of our joy I perceived that Mohand ou Mohand had entered the room and stood there, a silent spectator of Moll’s tender yielding to her husband’s caresses, his nostrils pinched, and his jaundiced face overcast with a wicked look of mortification and envy. And Moll seeing him, paled a little, drawing closer to her husband; for, as I learnt later on, and ’twas no more than I had guessed, he had paid her most assiduous attentions from the first moment he saw her, and had gone so far as to swear by Mahomet that death alone should end his burning passion to possess her. And I observed that when we parted, and Moll in common civility offered him her hand, he muttered some oath as he raised it to his lips.
Declining as civilly as we might Ali Oukadi’s tender of hospitality, we rested that night at the large inn or caravansary, and I do think that the joy of Moll and her husband lying once more within each other’s arms was scarcely less than we felt, Dawson and I, at this happy ending of our long tribulations; but one thing it is safe to say, we slept as sound as they.
And how gay were we when we set forth the next morning for Alger—Moll’s eyes twinkling like stars for happiness, and her cheeks all pink with blushes like any new bride, her husband with not less pride than passion in his noble countenance, and Dawson and I as blithe and jolly as schoolboys on a holiday. For now had Moll by this act of heroism and devotion redeemed not only herself, but us also, and there was no further reason for concealment or deceit, but all might be themselves and fear no man.
Thus did joy beguile us into a false sense of security.
Coming to Alger about midday, we were greatly surprised to find that the sail chartered by Don Sanchez was no longer in the port, and the reason of this we presently learnt was that the Dey, having information of a descent being about to be made upon the town by the British fleet at Tangier, he had commanded, the night before, all alien ships to be gone from the port by daybreak. This put us to a quake, for in view of this descent not one single Algerine would venture to put to sea for all the money Mr. Godwin could offer or promise. So here we were forced to stay in trepidation and doubt as to how we, being English, might fare if the town should be bombarded as we expected, and never did we wish our own countrymen further. Only our Moll and her husband did seem careless in their happiness; for so they might die in each other’s arms, I do think they would have faced death with a smile upon their faces.
However, a week passing, and no sign of any English flag upon the seas, the public apprehension subsided; and now we began very seriously to compass our return to Elche, our trader’s passes (that is, Dawson’s and mine) being run out within a week, and we knowing full well that we should not get them renewed after this late menace of an English att
ack upon the town. So, one after the other, we tried every captain in the port, but all to no purpose. And one of these did openly tell me the Dey had forbidden any stranger to be carried out of the town, on pain of having his vessel confiscated and being bastinadoed to his last endurance.
“And so,” says he, lifting his voice, “if you offered me all the gold in the world, I would not carry you a furlong hence.” But at the same time, turning his back on a janizary who stood hard by, he gave me a most significant wink and a little beck, as if I were to follow him presently.
And this I did as soon as the janizary was gone, following him at a distance through the town and out into the suburbs, at an idle, sauntering gait. When we had got out beyond the houses, to the side of the river I have mentioned, he sits him down on the bank, and I, coming up, sit down beside him as if for a passing chat. Then he, having glanced to the right and left, to make sure we were not observed, asks me what we would give to be taken to Elche; and I answered that we would give him his price so we could be conveyed shortly.
“When would you go?” asks he.
“Why,” says I, “our passes expire at sundown after the day of Ramadah, so we must get hence, by hook or by crook, before that.”
“That falls as pat as I would have it,” returns he (but not in these words), “for all the world will be up at the Cassanabah on that day, to the feast the Dey gives to honour his son’s coming of age. Moreover, the moon by then will not rise before two in the morning. So all being in our favour, I’m minded to venture on this business. But you must understand that I dare not take you aboard in the port, where I must make a pretence of going out a-fishing with my three sons, and give the janizaries good assurance that no one else is aboard, that I may not fall into trouble on my return.”
“That’s reasonable enough,” says I, “but where will you take us aboard?”
“I’ll show you,” returns he, “if you will stroll down this bank with me, for my sons and I have discussed this matter ever since we heard you were seeking a ship for this project, and we have it all cut and dried properly.”
So up we get and saunter along the bank leisurely, till we reached a part where the river spreads out very broad and shallow.
“You see that rock,” says he, nodding at a huge boulder lapped by the incoming sea. “There shall you be at midnight. We shall lie about a half a mile out to sea, and two of my sons will pull to the shore and take you up; so may all go well and nought be known, if you are commonly secret, for never a soul is seen here after sundown.” I told him I would consult with my friends and give him our decision the next day, meeting him at this spot.
“Good,” says he, “and ere you decide, you may cast an eye at my ship, which you shall know by a white moon painted on her beam; ’tis as fast a ship as any that sails from Alger, though she carry but one mast, and so be we agree to this venture, you shall find the cabin fitted for your lady and everything for your comfort.”
On this we separated presently, and I, joining my friends at our inn, laid the matter before them. There being still some light, we then went forth on the mole, and there we quickly spied the White Moon, which, though a small craft, looked very clean, and with a fair cabin house, built up in the Moorish fashion upon the stern. And here, sitting down, we all agreed to accept this offer, Mr. Godwin being not less eager for the venture than we, who had so much more to dread by letting it slip, though his pass had yet a fortnight to run.
So the next day I repaired to the rock, and meeting Haroun (as he was called), I closed with him, and put a couple of ducats in his hand for earnest money.
“’Tis well,” says he, pocketing the money, after kissing it and looking up to heaven with a “Dill an,” which means “It is from God.” “We will not meet again till the day of Ramadah at midnight, lest we fall under suspicion. Farewell.”
We parted as we did before, he going his way, and I mine; but, looking back by accident before I had gone a couple of hundred yards, I perceived a fellow stealing forth from a thicket of canes that stood in the marshy ground near the spot where I had lately stood with Haroun, and turning again presently, I perceived this man following in my steps. Then, fairly alarmed, I gradually hastened my pace (but not so quick neither as to seem to fly), making for the town, where I hoped to escape pursuit in the labyrinth of little, crooked, winding alleys. As I rounded a corner, I perceived him out of the tail of my eye, still following, but now within fifty yards of me, he having run to thus overreach me; and ere I had turned up a couple of alleys he was on my heels and twitching me by the sleeve.
“Lord love you, Master,” says he, in very good English, but gasping for breath. “Hold hard a moment, for I’ve a thing or two to say to you as is worth your hearing.”
So I, mightily surprised by these words, stop; and he seeing the alley quite empty and deserted, sits down on a doorstep, and I do likewise, both of us being spent with our exertions.
“Was that man you were talking with a little while back named Haroun?” asks he, when he could fetch his breath. I nodded.
“Did he offer to take you and three others to Elche, aboard a craft called the White Moon?”
I nodded again, astonished at his information, for we had not discussed our design today, Haroun and I.
“Did he offer to carry you off in a boat to his craft from the rock on the mouth?”
Once more I nodded.
“Can you guess what will happen if you agree to this?”
Now I shook my head.
“The villain,” says he, “will run you on a shoal, and there will he be overhauled by the janizaries, and you be carried prisoners back to Alger. Your freedom will be forfeited, and you will be sold for slaves. And that’s not all,” adds he; “the lass you have with you will be taken from you and given to Mohand ou Mohand, who has laid this trap for your destruction and the gratification of his lust.”
I fell a-shaking only to think of this crowning calamity, and could only utter broken, unintelligible sounds to express my gratitude for this warning.
“Listen, Master, if you cannot speak,” said he; “for I must quit you in a few minutes, or get my soles thrashed when I return home. What I have told you is true, as there is a God in heaven; ’twas overheard by my comrade, who is a slave in Mohand’s household. If you escape this trap, you will fall in another, for there is no bounds to Mohand’s devilish cunning. I say, if you stay here you are doomed to share our miserable lot, by one device or another. But I will show you how you may turn the tables on this villain, and get to a Christian country ere you are a week older, if you have but one spark of courage amongst you.”
CHAPTER XL.
Of our escape from Barbary, of the pursuit and horrid, fearful slaughter that followed, together with other moving circumstances.
So Groves, as my man was named, told me how he and eight other poor Englishmen, sharing the same bagnio, had endured the hardships and misery of slavery, some for thirteen, and none less than seven, years; how for three years they had been working a secret tunnel by which they could escape from their bagnio (in which they were locked up every night at sundown) at any moment; how for six months, since the completion of their tunnel, they had been watching a favourable opportunity to seize a ship and make good their escape (seven of them being mariners); and how now they were, by tedious suspense, wrought to such a pitch of desperation that they were ripe for any means of winning their freedom. “And here,” says he, in conclusion, “hath merciful Providence given us the power to save not only ourselves from this accursed bondage, but you, also, if you are minded to join us.”
Asking him how he proposed to accomplish this end, he replies:
“’Tis as easy as kiss your hand. First, do you accept Haroun’s offer?”
“I have,” says I.
“Good!” says he, rubbing his hands, and speaking thick with joy. “You may be sure that Mohand will suffer no one to interfere with your getting aboard, to the achievement of his design. When is it to be?”
I hesitated a moment, lest I should fall into another trap, trying to escape from the first; but, seeing he was an Englishman, I would not believe him capable of playing into the Turks’ hands for our undoing, and so I told him our business was for midnight on the feast of Ramadah.
“Sure, nought but Providence could have ordered matters so well,” says he, doubling himself up, as if unable to control his joy. “We shall be there, we nine sturdy men. Some shall hide in the canes, and others behind the rock; and when Haroun rows to shore, four of us will get into his boat (muffled up as you would be to escape detection), and as soon as they lay themselves to their oars, their business shall be settled.”
“As how?” asks I, shrinking (as ever) from deeds of violence.
“Leave that to us; but be assured they shall not raise a cry that shall fright your lady. Oh, we know the use of a bow-string as well as any Turk amongst them. We have that to thank ’em for. Well, these two being despatched, we return to shore, and two more of our men will get in; then we four to the felucca, and there boarding, we serve the others as we served the first two; so back comes one of us to fetch off our other comrades and you four. Then, all being aboard, we cut our cable, up with our sail, and by the time Mohand comes, in the morning, to seek his game on the sand-bank, we shall be half way to Elche, and farther, if Providence do keep pace with this happy beginning. What say you, friend?” adds he, noting my reflective mood.
Then I frankly confessed that I would have some assurance of his honesty.
“I can give you none, Master,” says he, “but the word of a good Yorkshireman. Surely, you may trust me as I trust you; for ’tis in your power to reveal all to Haroun, and so bring us all to the galleys. Have you no faith in a poor broken Englishman?”
The Pirate Story Megapack: 25 Classic and Modern Tales Page 46