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THE 
 
 BOY SLAVES 
 
 CAPT. MAYNE KEID, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the DESERT HOME," "THE OCEAN WAIFS, ' V'iO. 
 
 ®UIj JUustratiotts. 
 
 A NEW EDITION, 
 WITH A MEMOIR BY E. H, STODDAED. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 WORTHINGTOI?^ CO., 747 BROADWAY 
 
 1889 
 
^ 
 
 Entered accwding to act of Corgrees, in the year 1852, by 
 
 TICKNOR AND FIELDS, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetta. 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 18S5, by 
 
 THOMAS R. KNOX & CO., 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1889, by 
 
 WORTHINGTON CO., 
 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 V •■• »,' ; ° • New York, January 1st, 1869. 
 
 Messrs. Frei.Ds, ^0|oopD & Co.:,— 
 
 :, .Vacce,Bt' t'}ie/x'r]n*oflti-e^;jnd^ J-.ereby concede to j'on the exclusive right 
 of publication, in'the'tjiiiled States, of all my juvenile Tales of Adventure, 
 known as Boys' Novels. 
 
 MAYNE REID. 
 
laes 
 
 iJiEirOIR OF MAYNE BEID. 
 
 Ko one who has written books for the yonng during the 
 present century ever had so large a circle of readers as 
 Captain Mayne Reid, or ever was so well fitted by circum* 
 stances to write the books by which he is chiefly known. 
 His life, which was an adventurous one, was ripened with 
 the experience of two Continents, and his temperament, 
 which was an ardent one, reflected the traits of two races. 
 Irish by birth, he was American in his sympathies with 
 the people of the New World, whose acquaintance he 
 inade at an early period, among whom he lived for years, 
 and whose battles he helped to win. He was probably 
 more familiar with the Southern and Western portion of 
 the United States forty years ago than any native-born 
 American of that time. A curious interest attaches to the 
 life of Captain Reid, but it is not of the kind that casual 
 biographers dwell upon. If he had written it himself it 
 would have charmed thousands of readers, who can now 
 merely imagine what it might have been from the glimpses 
 of it which they obtain in his writings. It was not passed 
 in tlie fierce light of publicity, but in that simple, silent 
 obscurity which is the lot of most men, and is their hap- 
 piness, if they only knew it. 
 
 Briefly related, the life of Captain Reid was as follows ; 
 He was born in 1818, in the north of Ireland, the son ol 
 a Presbyterian clergyman, who was a type of the class 
 which Goldsmith has described so freshly in the " Deserted 
 Village," and was highly thought of for his labors among 
 the poor of his neighborhood. An earnest, reverent man, 
 to whom his calling was indeed a sacred one, he designed 
 his son Mayne for the ministry, in the hope, no doubt, 
 that he would be Lis successor. But nature had some- 
 thing to say about that, as well as his good father. He 
 began to study for the ministry, but it was not long before 
 
 Mi5r>60 
 
he was drawn in another direction. Aluajs a great reader, 
 his favorite books were descriptions of travel in foreigii 
 lands, particularly those which dealt with the scenery, 
 the people, and the resources of America. The spell whici 
 these exercised over his imagination, joined to a love ol 
 adventure which was inliereut in his temperament, and 
 inherited, perhaps with his race, determined his career. 
 At the age of twenty he closed his theological tomes, andf 
 girding up his loins witli a stout heart he sailed from the 
 shores of the Old World for the New. Following the 
 spirit in his feet he landed at New Orleans, which was 
 probably a more promising field for a young man of his 
 talents than any Northern city, and was speedily engaged 
 in business. The nature of this business is not stated, 
 further than it was that of a trader ; but whatever it was 
 it obliged this young Irishman to make long journeys into 
 the interior of the country, which was almost a terra in- 
 cognita. Sparsely settled, where settled at all, it was still 
 clothed in primeval verdure — here in the endless reach of 
 savannas, there in the dei^th of pathless woods, and far 
 away to the North and the West in those monotonous 
 ocean-like levels of land for which the speech of England 
 has no name — the Prairies. Its population was nomadic, 
 not to say barbaric, consisting of tribes of Indians whose 
 hunting grounds from time immemorial the region was-, 
 hunters and trappers, who had turned their backs upo4 
 civilization for the free, wild life of nature ; men of 
 doubtful or dangerous antecedents, who had found it con- 
 venient to leave their country for their country's good ; 
 and scattered about hardy pioneer communities from East- 
 ern States, advancing waves of the great sea of emigration 
 which is still drawing tlie course of empire westward. 
 Travelling in a country like this, and among people like 
 these, Mayne Reid passed five years of his early manhood. 
 He was at home wherever he went, and never more so 
 than when among tlie Indians of the lied River territory, 
 with whom he spent several months, learning their lan- 
 guage, studying their customs, and enjoying the wild and 
 beautiful scenery of their camping grounds. Indirn. for 
 the time, he lived in their lodges, rode with them, hunted 
 with them, and night after night sat by tbeir blazing 
 camp-fires listening to the warlike stories of tlie braves 
 and the quaint legends of the medicine men. Tliere was 
 that in the blood of Maj-ne Reid which fitted him to lead 
 this life at *^iifs ^jine, and whether ho knew it or not i( 
 2 
 
educated Ills genins as no other life conld ^^ve done. It 
 " -• ized him with a large extent of country m tlie 
 o^u... .vnd West; it introduced him to men and manners 
 which existed nowliere else ; and it revealed to him the 
 
 South and West 
 
 which existed i 
 
 secrets of Indian life and character. 
 
 There was another side, however, to Mayne Reid than 
 that we have touched upon, and «"S at tlie end of fiv. 
 vears drew him back to the average life of his kind We 
 find iiim next in Philadelphia, where he began to con- 
 tribute stories and- sketches of travel to the newspapers 
 and magazines. Philadelphia was then the most liteiate 
 city in the United States, the one in which a clever writer 
 was at once encouraged and rewarded. Frank and wai-m- 
 hearted, he made many friends there among Piir^alistg 
 and authors. One of these friends was Edgar Al a Poe 
 whom he often visited at his home m Spring Garden and 
 concerning whom years after, when he was dead, he wrote 
 with loving tenderness. 
 
 The next episode in the career of Mayne Reid was not 
 what one would expect from a man of letters, though it 
 las just what might have been expected from a man of 
 his temperament and antecedents. It grew out of the 
 feme, which was warlike, and it drove him into the army 
 with wliich the United States speedily crushed the foices 
 Tfhr sister Republic-Mexico. He obtained a commis- 
 sion, and served throughout the war with great bravery 
 and distinction. This stormy episode ended with a severe 
 wound, which he received in storming the heights of Cha- 
 pultepec-a terrible battle which practically ended the 
 
 "^ a' second episode of a similar character, but with a more 
 fortunate conclusion, occurred about four years later. It 
 grew out of another war, which, happily for us, was not on 
 our borders, but in the heart of Europe, where the Hun- 
 garian race had risen in insurrection against the hated power 
 of Austria. Their desperate valor in the face of tremen- 
 dons odds excited the sympathy of the American people, 
 and fired the heart of Captain Mayne Beid who buck ed 
 on his sword once more, and sailed from_ New York with 
 a body of volunteers to aid the Hungarians m their struggles 
 for independence. They were too late for hardly had 
 they reached Paris before they learned that all was over. 
 Gorgey had surrendered at Arad, and Hungary wj^ 
 irushed. They were at once dismissed, and ^aptam Rei(Jl 
 betook hiuaself to London. 
 
 3 
 
The life of the Mayne HeM In whom we are iJitJSt i»« 
 terested— Mayne Reid, the author— began at this time, 
 when he was in his thirty-first year, and ended only oa 
 the day of his death, October 21, 1883. It covered one- 
 third of a century, and was, when compared with that 
 which had preceded it, uneventful, if not devoid of in- 
 cident. There is not much that needs be told — not much, 
 indeed, that can be told— in the life of a man of letters 
 like Captain Mayne Reid. It is written in his books. 
 Mayne Reid was one of the best known authors of his 
 time — differing in this from many authors who are popu- 
 lar without being known— and in the walk of fiction which 
 he discovered for himself he is an acknowledged mas- 
 ter. His reputation did not depend upon the admiration 
 of the millions of young people who read his books, but 
 upon the judgment of mature critics, to whom his delinea- 
 tions of adventurous life were literature of no common 
 order. His reputation as a story-teller was widely recog- 
 nized on the Continent, where he was accej^ted as an 
 authority in regard to the customs of the pioneers and the 
 guerilla warfare of the Indian tribes, and was warmly 
 praised for his freshness, his novelty, and his hardy origi- 
 nality. The people of France and Germany delighted in 
 this soldier- writer. " There was not a word in his bookg 
 which a school-boy could not safely read aloud to his 
 mother and sisters." So says a late English critic, to which 
 another adds, that if he has somewhat gone out of fashion 
 of late years, the more's the pity for the school-boy of the 
 period. What Defoe is in Robinson Crusoe — realistic idyl 
 of island solitude — that, in his romantic stories of wilder* 
 uess iife, Is his great scholar, Captain Mayne Reid. 
 
 E. H. SXODDASD. 
 4 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTE. 
 
 Captain Mayne Reid is pleased to have had the help 
 of an American Author in preparing for publication this 
 «tory of " The Boy Slaves," and takes the present oppor- 
 tunity of acknowledging that help, which has kindly ex- 
 tended beyond matters of merely external form, to points 
 of narrative and composition, which are here embodied with 
 the result of his own labor. 
 
 The Eancho, December, 1864. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Iiurm FAca 
 
 I The Land of the Suivb 1 
 
 n. Types op the Triple Klngdom . . 4 
 
 ni. The Seepent'8 Tongck ....... 8 
 
 IV. 'Ware the TideI .18 
 
 V. A False Guide 18 
 
 VL Wade or Swim ? . 18 
 
 VII. A Compulsory Partido 21 
 
 Vm. Safe Ashore 24 
 
 IX. Uncomfortable Quabterb 29 
 
 XI. 'Ware the Sand I 85 
 
 XIL A Mysterious Niohtmabb ...... 40 
 
 XIII. The Maherry 46 
 
 XIV. A Liquid Breakfast 49 
 
 XV. The Sailor among the Shell-fisb ... 62 
 
 XVI. Keeping under Cover 56 
 
 XVIL The Trail on the Sand 60 
 
 XVIIL The "Desert Ship" 68 
 
 XIX. Homeward Bound 66 
 
 XX. The Dance Interrupted 69 
 
 XXI. A Serio-Comical Eeceptios 78 
 
 XXn. The Two Sheiks 76 
 
 XXUL Sailor Bill Beshrewed 86 
 
 XXIV. Starting on the Track 88 
 
 XXV Bill to be Abandoned .... 86 
 
 XXVL A Cautious Retreat 8t 
 
IT CONTENTS. 
 
 XXVII. A QcEER Quadruped . .... 91 
 
 XXVIII. The Hue and Ckt M 
 
 XXIX. A Subaqueous Asylum 98 
 
 XXX. The Pursuers Nonplussed .... 103 
 
 XXXI. A Double Predicament 105 
 
 XXXII. Once more the mocking Laugh . . , 103 
 
 XXXIII. A Cunning Sheik 113 
 
 XXXIV. A Queer Encounter . . , . . .114 
 XXXV. Holding on to the Hump 118 
 
 XXXVI. Our Adventurers in Undress .... 121 
 
 XXXVII. The Captives in Conversation , . . .123 
 
 KXXVIII. The Douar at Dawn 127 
 
 yXXIX. An Obstinate Dromedart 129 
 
 XL. Watering the Camels 133 
 
 XLI. A Squabble between the Sheiks . . . 13£ 
 
 XLII. The Trio Staked 138 
 
 XLIII. GoLAH 142 
 
 XLIV* A Day of Agony 147 
 
 XLV. Colin in Luck 153 
 
 XLVI. Sailor Bill's Experisiebt 166 
 
 XLVU. An Unjust Reward 169 
 
 XLVUL The Waterless Well 164 
 
 XLIX. The Well 170 
 
 L. A Momentous Inquiry 175 
 
 LL A Living Grave .180 
 
 UL The Sheik's Plan of Revehgk .... 184 
 
 LEI. Captured Again 19C 
 
 LIV. An Unfaithful Wife 195 
 
 LV. Two Faithful Wives ...... 200 
 
 LVI. Fatima's Fate 206 
 
 LVIL Further Defection ... ... 209 
 
 LVin. A Call for Two More . , ... 214 
 
 LIX. Once More by the Sea 219 
 
 LX GoLAB Calls Agais 234 
 
LXI. 
 
 Lxn. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 LXIV. 
 LXV. 
 
 LXVI. 
 LXVII. 
 LXVIII. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 LXXI. 
 LXXII. 
 LXXIII. 
 LXXIV. 
 LXXV. 
 LXXVI. 
 LXXVII. 
 
 txxvm. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 LXXX. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 LXXXII 
 LXXXIIL 
 LXXXIV 
 
 CONTENTS. V 
 
 Sailor Bill Standing Sentrt . . . .228 
 
 GoLAH Fulfils his Destiny .... 288 
 
 On the Edge of the Saaka 287 
 
 The Rival Wkeckeks 240 
 
 Another White Slave 245 
 
 Sailor Bill's Brother 261 
 
 A Living Stream ....... 254 
 
 The Arabs at Home 258 
 
 Work or Die 262 
 
 Victory! 267 
 
 Sold Again 270 
 
 Onward Once Mork 276 
 
 Another Bargain . . . • . . • • 279 
 
 More Tortueb 283 
 
 En Route - 286 
 
 Hope Deferred ...... 289 
 
 El Hajji 293 
 
 Bo Muzem's Jouiawr ...... 297 
 
 Rais aiouRAD -800 
 
 6o MuzEM Back AoACi , . . . , 8M 
 
 A Pursuit ..... = 808 
 
 Moorish Justicb • S12 
 
 The Jew's Leap *!• . 
 
 CoNCLusioa > = - *!• 
 
THE EOT SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LAND OF THE SLAVE. 
 
 LAND of Ethiope ! whose baming centre seems unap" 
 proachable as the frozen Pole ! 
 
 Land of the unicorn and the lion, — of the crouching 
 panther and the stately elephant, — of the camel, the camel- 
 opard, and the camel-bird ! land of the antelopes, — of the 
 wild gemsbok, and the gentle gazelle, — land of the gigan- 
 tic crocodile and huge river-horse, — land teeming with 
 animal life, and last in the list of my apostrophic appella- 
 tions, — last, and that which must grieve the heart to pro- 
 nounce it, — land of the slave ! 
 
 Ah ! httle do men think while thus bailing thee, how near 
 may be the dread doom to their own hearths and homes! 
 Little dream they, while expressing their sympathy, — alas ! 
 too often, as of late shown in England, a hypocritical utter- 
 ance, — little do they suspect, while glibly commiserating 
 the lot of thy sable-skinned children, that hundreds — aye, 
 thousands — - of their own color and kindred are held within 
 thy confines, subject to a lot even lowlier than these, — a 
 fate far more fearful. 
 
 Alas ! it is even so. While I write, the proud Cauca- 
 sian, — despite his boasted superiority of intellect, — despite 
 the whiteness of his nkiu, — may be found by hundreds in 
 1 
 
2 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 tbe vnkno^Fn "Jiterior, wretchedly toiling, the slave not onlj 
 of thy oppressors, but the slave of thy slaves ! 
 
 Let us lift that curtain, which shrouds thy great Saara, 
 ani look upon some pictures that should teach the son of 
 Shem, while despising his brothers Ham and Japhet, that 
 he is not yet master of the world. 
 
 Dread is that shore between Susa and Senegal, on the 
 western edge of Africa, — by mariners most dreaded of any 
 other in the world. The very thought of it causes the sailor 
 to shiver with aiFright. And no wonder : on that inhospita- 
 ble seaboard thousands of his fellows have found a watery 
 ^ave ; and thousands of others a doom far more deplorable 
 *han deai^i! 
 
 Ther*" are two great deserts : one of land, the other of 
 waterj-— the Saiira and the Atlantic, — their contiguity ex 
 tend>i>^ through ten degrees of the earth's latitude, — an 
 enormous distance. Nothing separates them, save a lino 
 existing only in the imagination. The dreary and danger- 
 ous wilderness of water kisses the wilderness of sand, — not 
 less dreary or dangerous to those whose misfortune it may 
 be to become castaways on this dreaded shore. 
 
 Alas ! it has been the misfortune of many — not hua 
 dreds, but thousands. Hundreds of ships, rather than hun- 
 dreds of men, have suffered wreck and ruin between Susa 
 and Senegal. Perhaps were we to include Roman, Phoeni- 
 cian, and Carthaginian, we might say thousands of ships 
 also. 
 
 More noted, however, have been the disasters of modem 
 times, during what may be termed the epoch of tnodern 
 naviga+ion. Within the period of the last three centuries, 
 sailors of almost every maritime nation — at least all whose 
 errand has led them along the eastern edge of the Atlantic 
 — have had reason to regret approxiuiation to those shores, 
 known in ship parlance as the Barbary coast; but whicl^i 
 
THE LAND OF THE SLAVE. 
 
 with a slight alteration in tlie orthography, might be appro 
 priately styled " Barbarian." 
 
 A chapter might bo written in explanation of this pecu« 
 liarity of expression — a chapter which would comprise 
 many parts of two sciences, both but little understood — 
 ethnology and meteorology. 
 
 Of the former we may have a good deal to tell before tha 
 ending of this narrative. Of the latter it must suffice to 
 say : that the frequent wrecks occurring on the Barbary 
 coast — or, more properly, on that of the Saara south of it 
 — are the result of an Atlantic current setting eastwards 
 against that shore. 
 
 The cause of this cun-ent is simple enough, though it 
 requires explanation : since it seems to contradict not only 
 the theory of the " trade " winds, but of the centrifugal in- 
 clination attributed to the waters of the ocean. 
 
 I have room only for the theory in its simplest form. 
 The heating of the Saara under a tropical sun ; the absence 
 of those influences — moisture and verdure — which repel 
 the heat and retain its opposite ; the ascension of the heated 
 air that hangs over this vast tract of desert ; the colder 
 atmosphere rushing in from the Atlantic Ocean ; the conse- 
 quent eastward tendency of the waters of the sea. 
 
 These facts will account for that current which has proved 
 a deadly maelstrom to hundreds — aye, thousands — of 
 ships, in all ages, whose misfortune it has been to sail un- 
 suspectingly along the western shores of the Ethiopian con- 
 tinent. 
 
 Even at the present day the castaways upon this desert 
 shore are by no means rare, notwithstanding the warnings 
 that at close intervals have been proclaimed for a period of 
 three hundred years. 
 
 While I am writing, some stranded brig, barque, or ship 
 may be going to pieces between Bojador and Blanco ; her 
 crew making shorewards in boats to be swamped among th* 
 
4 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 foaming breakers ; or, riding three or four together npoB 
 some se veered spar, to be tossed upon a desert strand, that 
 each may wish, from the bottom of his soul, should prove 
 uninhabited ! 
 
 I can myself record a scene like this that occurred not 
 ten years ago, about midway between the two headlanda 
 above named — Bojador and Blanco. The locality may be 
 more particularly designated by saying : that, at half dis- 
 tance between these noted capes, a narrow strip of sand 
 extends for several miles out into the Atlantic, parched 
 white imder the rays of a tropical sun — like the tongue of 
 some fiery serpent, well represented by the Saara, far 
 stretching to seaward ; ever seeking to cool itself in the 
 crystal waters of the sea. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 TYPES OF THE TRIPLE KINGDOM. 
 
 NEAR the tip of this tongue, almost within " licking " 
 distance, on an evening in the month of June 
 18 — , a group of the kind last alluded to — three or four 
 castaways upon a spar — might have been seen by any eye 
 that chanced to be near. 
 
 Fortunately for them, there was none sufficiently approx- 
 imate to make out the character of that dark speck, slowly 
 approaching the white sand-spit, like any other drift carried 
 U2>on the landward current of the sea. 
 
 It was just possible for a person standing upon the sum- 
 mit of one of the sand " dunes " that, like white billows, 
 rolled oft" into the interior of the continent — it was just 
 possible for a person thus placed to have distinguished the 
 
TYPES OF THE TRIPLE KINGDOM. A 
 
 ■foresaid speck without the aid of a glass ; though with one 
 it would have required a prolonged and careful observation 
 to have discovered its character. 
 
 The sand-spit was full three miles in length. The hilla 
 Stood back from the shore another. Four miles was suffi- 
 cient to screen the castaways from the observation of any- 
 one who miglit be straying along the coast. 
 
 For (he individuals themselves it appeared very improba- 
 ble that there could be any one observing them. As far as 
 eye could reach — east, north, and south, there was nothing 
 save white sand. To the west nothing but the blue water. 
 No eye could be upon them, save that of the Creator. Of 
 His creatures, tame or wild, savage or civilized, there 
 seemed not one within a circuit of miles : for within that 
 circuit there was nothing visible that could afford subsist- 
 tence either to man or animal, bird or beast. In the white 
 oubstratum of sand, gently shelving far under the sea, there 
 was not a sufficiency of organic matter to have afforded 
 food for fish — even for the lower organisms of mollusca. 
 Undoubtedly were these castaways alone ; as much so, as if 
 their locality had been the centre of the Atlantic, instead 
 of its coast ! 
 
 We are privileged to approach them ne:ir enough to com- 
 prehend their character, and learn the cause that has thus 
 isolated them so far from the regions of animated life. 
 
 There are four of them, astride a spar ; which also carries 
 a sail, partially reefed around it, and partially permitted to 
 drag loosely through the water. 
 
 At a glance a sailor could have told that the spar on 
 which they are supported is a topsail-yard, which has been 
 detached from its masts in such a violent manner as to un- 
 loose some of the reefs that had held the sail, thus partially 
 releasing the canvas. But it needed not a sailor to tell why 
 this had been done. A ship has foundered somewhere near 
 the coast. There has been a gale two days before The 
 
6 'IHI:; BOY SLAVES. 
 
 spar in question, with those supported upon it, is but a frag- 
 ment of the wreck. There might have been other fiag- 
 ments, — others of the crew escaped, or escaping in lika 
 manner, — but there are no others in sight. The castaways 
 Blowly drifting towards the sandspit are alone. Tliey have 
 no companions on the oceari, — no spectators on its sliore. 
 
 As already stated, there are four of them. Three are 
 Strangely alike. — at least, in the particulars of size, sha})e, 
 and costume. In age, too, there is no great di {Terence. All 
 three are boys : the oldest not over eighteen, the youngest 
 certainly not a year his junior. 
 
 In the physiognomy of the three there is similitude enough 
 to declare them of one nation, — thaugh dissimilarity suf- 
 ficient to prove a distinct provinciality botli in countenance 
 and character. Their dresses of dark blue cloth, cut pea- 
 jacket shape, and besprinkled with buttons of burnished 
 yellow, — their cloth caps, of like color, encircled by bands 
 of gold lace, — their collars, embroidered with the crown 
 and anchor, declare them, all three, to be officers in the 
 service of that great maritime government that "has so long 
 held undisputed possession of the sea, — midshipmen of the 
 British navy. Rather should we say, had been. They have 
 lost this proud position, along with the frigate to which 
 they had been attached ; and they now only share authority 
 upon a dismasted spar, over which they are exerting some 
 control, since, with their bodies bent downwards, and their 
 hands beating the water, they are propelling it in the direc- 
 tion of the sand-spit. 
 
 In the countenances of the three castaways thus intro- 
 duced, I have admitted a dissimilitude something more than 
 casual, — something more, even, than what might be termed 
 provincial. Each presented a type tliat could have been 
 referred to that wider distinction known as a nationality. 
 
 The tli!-ee "middies" astride o£ that topsail-yard were 
 of cour cnstawn\s from the same shin, in the service of 
 
TYPES OF THE TRIPLE KINGDOM, 1 
 
 the same government, though oaoh was of a different 
 Dationalit}' from the other two. They were the respective 
 representatives of Jack, Paddy, and Sandy, — or, to speals 
 tiior3 poetically, of the Rose, Shamrock, and Thistle, — and 
 had the three kingdoms from which they came been searched 
 throughout their whole extent, there could scarcely ha^e 
 been discovered purer representative types of each, than the 
 three reefers on that spar, drifting towards the sand-spit be- 
 tween Bojador and Blanco. 
 
 Their names were Harry Blount, Terence O'Connor, and 
 Colin Macpherson. 
 
 The fourth individual — who shared with them their frail 
 embarkation — differed from all three in almost every respect, 
 but more especially in years. The ages of all three united 
 would not liave numbered his : and their wrinkles, if col- 
 lected together, would scarce have made so many as could 
 have been counted in the crowsfeet indelibly imprinted in 
 the corners of his e}'es. 
 
 It would have required a very learned ethnologist to have 
 told to which of his three companions he was compatriot; 
 though there could be no doubt about his being either Eng- 
 lish, Irish, or Scotch. 
 
 Strange to say, his tongue did not aid in the identification 
 of his nationality. It was not often heard ; but even when 
 it was, its utterance would have defied the most a,ccom- 
 plished linguistic ear ; and neither from that, nor other cir 
 cumstance known to them, could any one of his three coic 
 panions lay claim to him as a countryman. When he spoke, 
 — a rare occurrence already hinted, — it was with a libeiaJ 
 misplacement of " h's " that should have proclaimed him an 
 Englishman of purest Cockney type. At the sam(3 time his 
 language was freely interspersed with Irish ' ochs " and 
 "^ shures " ; while the " wees " and " bonnys," oft recurring 
 iii his speech, should have proved him a sworn Scotchman. 
 From his countenance you might have drawn your own in- 
 
8 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 ference, and believed hira any of the three ; but not from 
 Lis tono-ne. Neither in his accent, nor the words that fell 
 from hira, could you have told which of tlie three kingdoms 
 had the honor of giving him birth. 
 
 Whichever it was, it had supplied to the Service a true 
 British tar: for although you might mistake the man in 
 other respects, his appearance forbade all equivocation upon 
 this point. 
 
 His costume was that of a common sailor, and, as a mat- 
 ter of course, his name was "Bill." But tis he had only 
 been one among many " Bills " rated on the man-o'-war's 
 books, — now gone to the bottom of the sea, — he carried a 
 distinctive appellation, no doult earned by his greater age. 
 Aboard the irigate he had been known as "Old Bill"; and 
 the soubriquet still attached to him upon the spar. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE SERPKNT's TONGUl',. 
 
 rr^HE presence of a ship's topsail-yivd thus bestridden 
 a plaijily proclaimed that a ship had been wrecked, al- 
 though no other evidence ot" the wreck was within sight 
 Not a wpeck was visible upon the sea to the utmost verge 
 of the horizon : and if a ship had foundered within that 
 field of view, her boats and every vestige of the wreck mu^i 
 either have gone to the bottom, or in some other direction 
 than that taken by the topsail-yard, which supported tho 
 three midshipmen and the sailor Bill. 
 
 A ship had gone to the bottom — a British man-of-war — 
 a corvette on her way to her cruising ground on the Guinea 
 coast. Beguiled by the dangerous current that Hiits lowarrJi 
 
THE SEErENT'S TONGUE. 9 
 
 the seaboard of the Saiira, in a dark stormy night she had 
 BtriiCk upon a sand-bank, got bilged, and sunk almost instantly 
 among the breakers. Boats had been got out, and men had 
 been seen crowding hurriedly into them ; otliers had taken 
 to such rafts or spars as could be deta< hed from the sinking 
 vessel : but whether any of these, or the overladen boats, 
 had succeeded in reaching the shore, was a question ■which 
 none of the four astride the topsail-yard were able to answer. 
 Tliey only knew that the corvette had gone to the bottom, 
 
 — they saw her go down, shortly after drifting away from 
 her side, but saw nothing more until morning, when they 
 perceived themselves alone upon the ocean. Thoy liad been 
 drifting throughout the remainder of that long, dark night, 
 
 — often entirely under water, when the sea swelled over 
 them, — and one and all of them many times on the point 
 of being washed from their frail embarkation. 
 
 By daybreak the storm had ceased, and was succeeded by 
 a clear, cairn day ; but it was not until a late hour tliat the 
 swell had subsided sufficiently to enable them to take any 
 measures lor propelling tlie strange craft that carried them. 
 Then using their hands as oars or paddles, they commenced 
 making some way through the water. 
 
 Tliere was nothing in sight — neither land nor any other 
 object — save the sea, the sky, and the sun. It was the 
 east which guided them as to direcl'ou. I>ut for it there 
 could have been no object in making way through the water; 
 bu.t with the sun now sinking in the west, they could tell 
 the east, and they knew that in that point alone laud might 
 be expected. 
 
 Alter the sun had gone down the stars became their com- 
 pass, and throughout all the second niglit of their shipwreck 
 they had continued to juiddle the spar in an easterly direction. 
 
 Day again dawned upon thcra, but without grrdifying 
 their eyes by the sight of la-id, or any other object U> iu.<pir« 
 them with a hope. 
 
10 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Famished with liunger, tortured with thirst, aud v»earie»J 
 with their continued exertions, they were ahout to surrender 
 to d66])air ; when, as the sun once more mounted up to the 
 Bky, and his bright beams pierced the crystal water upon 
 which they were floating, they saw beneath them tlie slieen 
 of white sand. It was the bottom of the sea, and at no 
 great depth, — not more than a few fathoms below their 
 &et. 
 
 Such shallow water could not be far from tlie shore. Re- 
 Assured and encouraged by the thought, they once more 
 renewed their exertions, and continued to paddle the spar, 
 taking only short intervals of rest throughout the whole of 
 the morning. 
 
 Long before noon they were compelled to desist. They 
 were close to the tropic of Cancer, almost under its line. It 
 was the season of midsummer, and of cour&e at meridian 
 hour the sun was right over their heads. Even their bodies 
 cast no shadow, except uj-)on the wlute sand directly under- 
 neath them, at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 The sun could no longer guide them; and as they had no 
 other index, they were compelled to remain stationary, or 
 drift in whatever direction the breeze or the currents might 
 carry them. 
 
 There was not much movement any way, and lor several 
 hours before and after noon they lay almost becalmed upon 
 the ocean. This period was passed in silence and inaction. 
 There was nothing for them to talk about but their forlorn 
 Bituation, and this topic had been exhausted. There waa 
 nothing for them to do. Their only occupation was to watch 
 the sun, until, by its sinking lower m the sky, they might 
 discover its westing. 
 
 Could they at that moment have elevated their eyes only 
 three feet higher, they would not have needed to wait for 
 the declination of the orb of day. They would have seen 
 Umd, such land as it was ; but, sunk as then- shoulders wer« 
 
THE SERPENT'S TONGUE 11 
 
 ftlmost to the level of the water, even the summits ci" the 
 Band dunea were not visible to their eyes. 
 
 "When the sun began to go down towards the horizon, 
 they once more plied their palms against the liquid wave, 
 and sculled the spar eastward. The sun's lower limb was 
 just touching the western horizon, when his red rays, glan- 
 eing over their slioulders, showed them some white spots 
 that ajDpeared to rise out of the water. 
 
 Were tliey clouds ? No ! Their rounded tops, cutting 
 the sky with a clear Ime, forbade this belief. They should 
 be hills, either of snow or of sand. It was not the region 
 for snow : they could only be sand-liills. 
 
 The cry of " land " pealed simultaneously from the hpa 
 of all, — that cheerful cry that has so oft given gladness to 
 the despairing castaway, — and redoubling their exertions, 
 the spar was propelled through the water more ra[)idly than 
 evei'. 
 
 Reinvigorated by the prospect of once more setting foot 
 upon land, they forgot for the moment thirst, hunger, and 
 weariness, and only occupied themselves in sculling their 
 craft towards the shore. 
 
 Under the belief that they Iiad still several miles to 
 make before the beach could bo attained, tliey were one and 
 all working with eyes turned downward. At that mo- 
 ment old Bill, chancing to look up, gave utterance to a 
 shout of joy, which was instantly echoed by his youthful 
 eompaiiions : all had at the same time perceivetl the long 
 «£nd-spit projecting far out into the water, and which looked 
 Like the hand of some friend held out to bid them welcome. 
 
 They had scarce made this discovery be!bre another of 
 (ike i)leasant nature same under their attention. That was, 
 *hat they were touching bottom ! Their legs, bestriding tha 
 fcpar, hu3g down on each side of it : and to the joy of ail 
 they now felt their feet scraping along the sand. 
 
 As if actuated by one impulse, all four dismounted from 
 
IS THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 the irksome seat they had been so long compelled to keep 
 and, biddhig adieu to the spar, thej [ilunged on through the 
 Bhoal water, without stop or stay, until they stood high and 
 dry upon the extreme jioint of the peninsula. 
 
 By this time the sun had gone down ; and the four drip* 
 ping forms, dimly outlined in the purple twilight, appeared 
 like four strange creatures who had just emerged from out 
 the depths of the ocean. 
 
 " Where next ? " 
 
 This was the mental interrogatory of all four : though by 
 none of them shaped into words. 
 
 " Nowhere to-night," was the answer suggested by the 
 inclination of each. 
 
 Impelled by hunger, stimulated by thirst, one would have 
 expected them to proceed onward in search of food and 
 water to alleviate this double suffering. But there was an 
 inclination stronger than either, — too strong to be resisted, 
 — sleep : since for fifty hours they had been without any ; 
 . since to have fallen asleep on the spar would have been 
 to subject themselves to the danger, almost the certainty, of 
 dropping off, and getting drowned ; and, notwithstanding 
 their need of sleep, increased by fatigue, and the necessity 
 of keeping constantly on the alert, — up to that moment not 
 one of them had obtained any. The thrill of pleasure that 
 passed through their frames as they felt their feet upon 
 terra firma for a moment aroused them. But the excite- 
 ment could not be sustained. The drowsy god would no 
 longer be deprived of his rights ; and one after anotlier — • 
 though without much interval between — sank down upoa 
 the soft sand, and yielded to his balray embrace. 
 
'WARE THE TIDE \ U 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 'ware the tide. 
 
 rilHROUGH that freak, or Jaw, of nature by which penin- 
 I sulas are shaped, tlie point of the sand-spit was elevated 
 several feet above the level of the sea; while its neck, 
 nearer the laud, scarce rose above the surface of the water. 
 
 It was this highest point — where the sand was thrown 
 up in a " wreath," like snow in a storm — that the casta- 
 ways had chosen for their couch. But little pains had been 
 taken in selecting the spot. It was the most conspicuous, 
 as well as the driest ; and, on stepping out of the water, 
 they had tottered towards it, and half mechanically chosen 
 it for their place of repose. 
 
 Simple as Avas the couch, they were not allowed to occupy 
 it for long. They had been scarce two hours asleep, when 
 one and all of them were awakened by a sensation that 
 chilled, and, at the same time, terrified them. Their terror 
 arose from a sense of suffocation : as if salt water was being 
 poured down their throats, which was causing it. In short, 
 they experienced the sensation of drowning; and fancied 
 they were struggling amid the waves, from which thiy had 
 80 lately escaped. 
 
 All four sprang to their feet, — if not simultaneously, at 
 least in quick succession, — and all appeared equally the 
 victims of astonishment, closely approximating to terror. 
 Instead of the couch of soft, dry sand, on which they had 
 stretched their tired rrames, they now stood up to their 
 ankles in water, — which was soughing and surging around 
 them. It was this change in their situation that caused 
 their astonishment ; though the terror quick following sprang 
 5-om quite another cause. 
 
 The former was short-lived : for it met with a ready ex- 
 
14 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 planation. In the confusion of their ideas, added to thmt 
 strong desire for sleep, they had forgotten the tide. Tlie 
 Band, dust-dry under the heat of a huruing sun, had deceived 
 thein. They h;td hiin down upon it, without a thought of 
 *ts ever being submerged under the sea ; but now to their 
 surprise they perceived their mistake. Not only was their 
 couch completely under water : but, had they slept a few 
 minutes longer, they would themselves have been quite 
 covered. Of course the waves had awakened them ; and no 
 doubt would have done so half an hour earlier, but for the pro- 
 found slumber into which their long watching and weariness 
 had thrown them. The contact of the cold water was not 
 likely to have much effect : since they had been already ex- 
 posed to it for more than forty hours. Indeed, it was not 
 that which had aroused them ; but the briny fluid getting 
 into their mouths, and causing them that feeling of suffoca- 
 tion that very much resembled drowning. 
 
 More than one of the party had sprung to an erect atti- 
 tude, under the belief that such was in reality the case ; and 
 it is not quite correct to say that their first feeling was one oi 
 mere astonishment. It was strongly commingled with terror. 
 
 On perceiving how matters stood, their fears subsided al- 
 most as rapidly as they had arisen. It was only the inflow 
 of the tide ; and to escape from it would be easy enough. 
 They would have nothing more to do, than keep along the 
 narrowstripof sand, which they had observed before landing. 
 This would cond+ict them to the true shore. They knew 
 this to be at some distance ; but, once there, they could 
 choose a more elevated couch, on which they could recline 
 undisturbed till the morning. 
 
 Such was their belief, conceived the instant after they had 
 got upon their legs. It was soon followed by anotlier, — 
 another consternation, — which, if not so sudden as the first 
 was, perhaps, ten times more intense. 
 
 On turning their faces towards what they believed to bu 
 
■WARE THE TIDE! 13 
 
 the land, there was no land in sight, — neither sand-hillH 
 nor shore, nor even the narrow tongue upon whose tip they 
 had been trusting themselves ! Tiiere was nothing visible 
 but water ; and even this was scarce discernible at the dis- 
 i&ace of six paces from wliere they stood. They could only 
 tell that water was around them, by hearing it hoarsely swish- 
 ing on every side, and seeing through the dim obscurity 
 the strings of white froth that floated on its broken surface. 
 
 It was not altogether the darkness of the night that ob- 
 scured their view ; thougli this was of itself profound. It 
 was a thick mist, or fog, that had arisen over the surface of 
 the ocean, and which enveloped their bodies ; so that, though 
 standing almost close together, each appeared to the others 
 like some huge spectral form at a distance ! 
 
 To remain where they were, was to be swallowed up by 
 the sea. There could be no uncertainty about that ; and 
 therefore no one thought of staying a moment longer on the 
 point of the sand-spit, now utterly submerged. 
 
 But in what direction were they to go ? That was the 
 que^^tion that required to be solved before starting; and in 
 the solution of which, perhaj)3, depended the safety of their 
 lives. 
 
 We need scarce say perhaps. Rather might we say, for 
 jertain. By taking a wrcng direction they would be walk- 
 mg into the sea, — where tliey would soon get beyond their 
 iepth, and be in danger of drowning. This was all the 
 «orP likely, that the wind had been increasing ever since 
 .hey had laid down to rest, and was now blowing with con- 
 aierablc violence. Partly from this, and partly by the 
 lidal influence, big waves had commenced rolling around 
 them ; so that, even in the shoal water where they stood, 
 each successive swell was rising higher and higher against 
 their bodies. 
 
 There was no time to be lost. They must find the U\xi 
 direction for the shore, and fol'ow it, — quickly too; or pen 
 ish axoid the breakers I 
 
^Q THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A FALSE GUIDE. 
 
 WHICH way to the shore ? 
 That was the question that arose to the lips of all. 
 
 You may fancy it could have been easily answered. The 
 direction of the wind and waves was landward. It was the 
 sea-breeze, which at night, as every navigator is aware, 
 blows habitually towards the land, — at least, in the region 
 of the tropics, and more especially towards the hot Saara. 
 
 The tide itself might have told them the direction to take. 
 It was the in-coming tide, and therefore swelling towards the 
 beach. 
 
 You may fancy that they had nothing to do but follow the 
 waves, keeping the breeze upon their back. 
 
 So they fancied, at first starting for the shore ; but they 
 were not long in discovering that this guide, apparently so 
 trustworthy was not to be relied upon ; and it was only then 
 they became apprised of the real danger of their situation. 
 Both wind and waves were certainly pi'oceeding landward, 
 and in a direct line ; but it was just this direct line the cast- 
 aways dared not — in fact could not — follow: for they had 
 not gone a hundred fathoms from the point of the submerged 
 peninsula when they found the water rapidly deepeniug 
 before them ; and a few fathoms further on they stood up to 
 their armpits ! 
 
 It was evident that, in the direction in which they -.Tcre 
 proceeding, it continued to grow deeper ; and they turned to 
 try another. 
 
 After floundering about for a while, they found shoal 
 water again, — reaching up only to their knees; but wherever 
 they attempted to follow the course of the waves, they per- 
 ceived that the shoal trended giadually downward. 
 
A FALSE GUIDE. 17 
 
 This at first caused them surprise, as well as alarm. The 
 fcrmer aflected them only for an instant. The explanation 
 was sought for, and suggested to the satisfaction of all. The 
 Band-spit did not project perpendicularly from the line of the 
 coast, but in a diagonal direction. It was in fact, a sort of 
 natural breakwater — forming one side of a large cone, or 
 erabayment, lying between it and the true beach. Thia 
 feature had been observed, on their first setting foot upon it, 
 though at the time they were so much engrossed with the 
 joyous thought of having escaped from the sea, that it had 
 made no impression upon their memory. 
 
 They now remembered the circumstance ; though not to 
 their satisfaction ; for they saw at once that the guide in 
 which tliey had been trusting could no longer avail them. 
 
 The waves were rolling on over that bay — whose depth 
 they had tried, only to find it unfordable. 
 
 Tins was a new dilemma. To escape from it there ap- 
 peared but one way. They must keep their course along 
 the combing of the peninsula — if they could. But their 
 ability to do so had now become a question — each instant 
 jrowing more difficult to answer. 
 
 They were no longer certain that they were on the spit ; 
 but, whether or not, tliey " could find no shallower water 
 by trying on either side. Each way they went it seemed to 
 deepen ; and even if they stood still but for a few moments, 
 as they were compelled to do while hesitating as to their 
 course — the water rose perceptibly upon their hmbs. 
 
 They were now well aware that they had two enemies to 
 contend with — time and direction. The loss of either one 
 or the otlier might end in their destruction. A wrong di- 
 rection would lead them into deep water; a waste of 
 time would biing deep water around them. The old adage 
 about time and tide — which none of them could help hav- 
 bg huard — might have been ringing in their ears at that 
 aaoaient. It was appropriate to the occasion. 
 
18 THK BOY SLA'^'TiS. 
 
 They thought of it ; and the thought filled them with qp 
 prehension. From the observations they had made before 
 Bunset, they knew that the shore could not be near — not 
 nearer than three miles — perliaps four. 
 
 Ev3n with free footing, the true diriction, and a clear 
 view of the path, it might have been a question about time. 
 They all knew enough of the sea to be aware how rapidly 
 the tide sets in — especially on some foreign shores — and 
 there was nothing to assure them that the seaboard of the 
 SaJira was not beset by the most treacherous of tides. On 
 the contrary, it was just this — a tidal current — that had 
 forced their vessel among the breakers, causing them to be- 
 come what they now were, — castaways ! 
 
 They had reason to dread the tides of the Salira's shore ; 
 and dread them they did, — their fears at each moment be- 
 coming stronger as they f-^lt the d^rk waters rising higher 
 and higher around thera. 
 
 F 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WADE OE SWn5 ? 
 
 ,,0R a time they floundered on, — the old sailer in the 
 lead, the three boys strung lut ii. a line^aftef him. 
 Sometimes they departed from this formation, — one or 
 another trying towards the flank for shallower water. 
 
 Already it clasped them -liy the thighs ; and just in pro- 
 portion as it rose upon their bo<lie9, did their spirits become 
 depressed. They knew that they were fo!lo>\'ing the crest ol 
 the sand-spit. Tliey knew it by the deepening of the sea on 
 each side of them ; but they had by this time discovered an- 
 other index to their direction. Old Rill had kept his " weatli* 
 
WADE OR SWIM ? l9 
 
 9r-eje " upon the waves ; until he had (discovered the angla 
 at which tliey broke over the " bar," and could Ibllow the 
 ** combing" of tlie spit, as he called it, without much dangei" 
 of departure from the true path. 
 
 It was not the direction that troubled their thoughts any 
 longer ; but the time and the tide. 
 
 Up to their waists in water, their progress could not be 
 otherwise than slow. The time would not liave signified 
 could they have been sure of the tide, — that is, sure of its 
 not rising higher. 
 
 Alas ! they could not be in doubt about this. On the con- 
 trary, they were too well assured tliat it was rising higlier; 
 and with a rapidity that threatened soon to submerge them 
 under its merciles swells. These came slowly sweeping 
 along, in the diagonal direction, — one succeeding the other, 
 and each new one striking higher up upon the bodies of the 
 now exhausted waders. 
 
 On they floundered despite their exhaustion ; on along 
 the suba(iueous ridge, which at every step appeared to sink 
 deeper into the water, — as if the nearer to the land the 
 peninsula became all the more depressed. This, however, 
 was but a fancy. They had already passed the neck of the 
 sand-spit wliex-e it was lowest. It was not that, but the fast 
 flowing tide that was deepening the water around them. 
 
 Deeper and deeper, — deeper and deeper, till the salt sea 
 cla'^'ped them around the armpits, and the tidal waves began 
 to break over their heads ! 
 
 Tiiere seemed but one way open to their Siilvation, — but 
 one course by which they could escape from the engulfment 
 that threatened. Tiiis was to forego any further attempt 
 at wading, to fling themselves boldly upon the waves, aad 
 swim ashore ! 
 
 Now tliat they were submerged to their necks, you may 
 wonder at their noi at once ado[)ting tliis plan. It is true 
 they were ignorant of the distance they would have to swim 
 
20 THE BoY SLAVES. 
 
 before reaching the shore. Still they knew it could not h« 
 more than a couple of miles ; for they had already traversed 
 quite that distance on the diagonal spit. But two miles 
 need scarce have made thera despair, with both wind and 
 tide in their favor. 
 
 Why, then, did they hesitate to trust themselves to the 
 quick, bold stroke of the swimmer, instead of the slow, tim- 
 id, tortoise-like tread of the wader ? 
 
 There are two answers to this question ; for there were 
 two reasons for them not having recourse to the former al- 
 ternative. The fii'St was selfish ; or rather, should we call 
 it self-preservative. There was a doubt in the minds of all, 
 as to their ability to reach the shore by swimming. It was 
 a broad bay that had been seen before sundown ; and once 
 launched upon its bosom, it was a question whether any of 
 them would have strength to cross it. Once launched upon 
 its bosom, there would be no getting back to the shoal water 
 through which they were wading ; the tidal current would 
 prevent return. 
 
 This consideration was backed by another, -=— a lingering 
 belief or hope that the tide might already have reached its 
 highest, and would soon be on the "turn." This hope, 
 though faint, exerted an influence on the waders, — as yet 
 sufficient to restrain them from becoming swimmers. But 
 even after this could no longer have prevailed, — even v/hea 
 the waves began to surge over, threatening at each fresh 
 " sea " to scatter the shivering castaways and swallow them 
 one by one, — there wa? another thought that kept them tu- 
 gcthor. 
 
 It was a thought neither of self nor self-preservation ; 
 but a generous instinct, that even in that perilous crisis w&? 
 stirring within their hearts. 
 
 Instinct! No. It was a thought, — an impulse if you 
 will ; but something higher than an instinct. 
 
 Shall I declare it ? Undoubtedly, I shall. Noble emr> 
 
A COMPULSORY PARTING. 21 
 
 tions should not be concealed ; and the one wbicli at tbat 
 moment throbbed within the bosoms of the castaways, was 
 truly noble. 
 
 There were but three of them who felt it. The fourth 
 could not : he could not swim ! 
 
 Surely the reader needs no further explanation ? 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A COMPTILSORT PARTING. 
 
 kNE of the four castaways could not swim. Which one ? 
 You will expect to hear that it was one of the three 
 midshipmen ; and w^ill be conjecturing whether it was Harry 
 Blount, Terence O'Connor, or Colin Macpherson. 
 
 My. English boy -readers would scarce believe rae, were I 
 to say that it was Harry who was wanting in this useful ac- 
 complishment. Equally incredulous would be my Irish and 
 Scotch constituency, were I to deny the possession of it to 
 the representatives of their respective countries, — Terence 
 and Colin. 
 
 Far be it from me to offend the natural amour propre of 
 my young readers ; and in the present case I have no fact 
 to record that would imply any national superiority or dis- 
 advantage. The castaway who could not swim was that pe- 
 culiar hybrid, or tribrid, already described ; who, for any 
 characteristic he carried about him, might liave been born 
 either upon the banks of the Clyde, the Thames, or the 
 Shannon ! 
 
 It was " Old Bill " who was deficient in natatory prowess: 
 Old Bill the sailor. 
 
 It may be wondered that one who has £pent nearly th« 
 
22 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 whola of his Ivfe on tlie sea should be wanting in an accom 
 plishment, apparently and really, so essential to such a cull 
 ing. Cases of the kind, however, are by no means uncom* 
 5fion ; and in a ship's crew there will often be found a laiga 
 number of men, — sometimes the very best sailors, — who 
 cannot swim a stroke. 
 
 Those who have neglected to cultivate this useful art, 
 when boys, rarely acquire it after they grow up to be men ; 
 or, if they do, it is only in an indifferent manner. On the 
 sea, though it may appear a paradox, there ai'e far fewer 
 opportunities for practising the art of swimming than upon 
 its shores. Aboard a ship, on her course, the chances of 
 " bathing " are but few and far between ; and, while in port; 
 the sailor has usually something else to do than spend hia 
 idle hours in disporting himself upon the waves. The sail- 
 or, when ashore, seeks for some sport more attractive. 
 
 As Old Bill had been at sea ever since he was able to 
 stand upon the deck of a ship, he had neglected this usefi-.l 
 art ; and though in every other respect an accomplished 
 sailor — rated A.B., No. 1 — he could not swim six lengths 
 of his own body. 
 
 It was a noble instinct which prompted his three youthful 
 companions to remain by him in that critical moment, when, 
 by flinging themselves upon the waves, they might have 
 •lined the shore without difficulty. 
 
 Although the bay might be nearly two miles in width 
 there could not be more than half that distance beyond their 
 depth, — judging by the shoal appearance which the coast 
 had exhibited as they were approacliing it before sundown. 
 
 All three felt certain of being able to save themselves ; 
 but what would become of their companion, the sailor? 
 
 " We cannot leave you. Bill ! " cried Harry : " we will 
 not ! " 
 
 " No, that we can't : we won't ! " said Terence. 
 
 " We can't, and won't," asseverated Colin, with Vke eiD» 
 
A COMPULSORY PARTINO. 23 
 
 These generous declarations were in answer to an equally 
 generous proposal : in which the sailor had urged them to 
 make for the shore, and leave him to his fate. 
 
 " Ye must, my lads ! " he cried out, repeat.ng his proposi- 
 tion. " Don't mind about me ; look to yersels ! Och ! shure 
 I 'm only a weather-washed, worn-out old salt, 'ardly worth 
 savin'. Go now — off wi' ye at onest ! The water '11 ba 
 over ye, if ye stand 'eer tin minutes longer." 
 
 The three youths scrutinized each other's faces, as far as 
 the darkness would allow them. Each tried to read in the 
 countenances of the other two some sign that might deter- 
 mine liim. The water was already washing around their 
 shoulders ; it was with difficulty they could keep their feet. 
 
 " Let loose, lads ! " cried Old Bill ; " let loose, I say ! and 
 swim richt for the shore. Don't think o' me ; it bean't cer- 
 tain I shan't weather it yet. I 'm the whole av my head 
 taller than the tallest av ye. The tide may r.'t full any 
 higher ; an' if it don't I '11 get safe out after all. Let loose, 
 lads — let loose I tell ye ! " 
 
 This command of the old sailor for his young comrades to 
 forsake him was backed by a far more irresistible influence, 
 — one against which even their noble instincts could no 
 longer contend. 
 
 At that moment, a wave, of greater elevation than any 
 that had preceded it, came rolling along ; and the three mid- 
 shipmen, lifted upon its swell, were borne nearly half a 
 cable's length from the spot where they had been standing. 
 
 In vain did they endeavor to recover their feet. They 
 had been carried into deep water, where the tallest of them 
 could not touch bottom. 
 
 For some seconds they struggled on the top of the swell, 
 their faces turned towards the spot from which they had 
 been swept. They were close together. All three seemed 
 dedircus of making back to that darV, solitary speck, pra 
 
24 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 truding above the sui-face, and wliicli they knew to be tin 
 head of Old Bill. Still did they hesitate to forsake liim. 
 
 Once more his voice sounded in their ears. 
 
 *' Och, boys ! " cried he, " don't thry to come back. It 'a 
 no use whatever. Lave me to my fate, an' save ycrsels 
 The tide 's 'ard against ye. Turn, an' follow it, as I tell ye. 
 It '11 carry ye safe to the shore ; an' if I 'm washed afther 
 ye, bury me on the bache. Farewell, brave boys, — fare 
 well!" 
 
 To the individuals tlms apostrophized, it was a sorrowful 
 adieu ; and, could they have done anything to save the 
 sailor, there was not one of the three who would not have 
 risked his life over and over again. But all were impressed 
 with the hopelessness of rendering any succor ; and under 
 the still further discouragement caused by another huge 
 wave, that came swelling up under their chins, they turned 
 gimultaneously in the water ; and, taking the tidal current 
 for their guide, sv/am with all their strength towards the 
 shore. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SAFE ASnOKE. 
 
 THE swim proved shorter than any of them had antici- 
 pated. They had scarce made half a mile across the 
 bay, when Terence, who was the worst swimmer of the 
 three and who had been allowing his legs to droop, struck 
 his toes against something more substantial than salt watdr 
 " r faith ! " gasped he, with exhausted breath, " I th.ink 
 I 've touched bottom. Blessed be the Virgin, I have ! " he 
 continued, at the same time standing erect, with head and 
 shoulders above the surface of the water. 
 
SAFE ASHORE. 25 
 
 •All right!" cried Harry, imitating the upright attitade 
 of the young Hiberniiin. " Bottom it must be, and bottom 
 it is. Thank God for it ! " 
 
 Colin, with a simihxr grateful ejaculation, suspended his 
 gtroke, and stood upon his feet. 
 
 All three instinctively faced seaward — as they did so, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " Poor Old Bill ! " 
 
 " In troth, we might have brought him along with us ! " 
 suggested Terence, as soon as he had recovered his wind ; 
 "might we not?" 
 
 " If we had but known it was so short a swim," said Har- 
 ry, " it is possible." 
 
 " How about our trying to swim back ? Do you think we 
 could do it ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! " asserted Colin. 
 
 " What, Colin, you are the best swimmer of us all ! Do 
 you say so ? " asked the others, eager to make an effort for 
 saving the old salt, who had been the favorite of every offi- 
 cer aboard the ship. 
 
 " I say impossible," replied the cautious Colin ; " I would 
 risk as much as any of you, but there is not a reasonable 
 chance of saving him, and what 's the use of trying impossi- 
 bilities ? "We 'd better make sure that we 're safe ourselves. 
 There may be more deep water between us and the shore. 
 Let us keep on till we 've set our feet on something mora 
 like terra firma." 
 
 The advice of the young Scotchman was too prudent to 
 be rejected; and all three, once more turning their faces 
 shoreward, continued to advance in that direction. 
 
 They only knew that they were facing shoreward by the 
 inflow of the tide, but certain that this would prove a toler- 
 ably safe guide, they kept boldly on, without fear of stray- 
 ing from the track. 
 
 For a while they waded ; but, as their progress was both 
 2 
 
26 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 slowei" and more toilsome, they once more betook tliemselvea 
 to swimmiug. Whenever they felt fatigued by either mode 
 of progression, they changed to the other ; and partly by 
 wading and partly by swimming, they passed through anoth- 
 er mile of the distance that separated them from the shore. 
 The water then became so shallow, that swimming was no 
 longer possible ; and they waded on, with eyes earnestly 
 piercing the darkness, each moment expecting to see some- 
 thing of the land. 
 
 They were soon to be gratiflgd by having this expectation 
 realized. The curving lines that began to glimmer dimly 
 through the obscurity, were the outlines of rounded objects 
 that cotdd not be ocean waves. They were too white for 
 these. They could only be the sandhills, which they had 
 Been before the going down of the sun. As they were now 
 but knee-deep in the water, and the night was still misty 
 and dark, these objects could be at no great distance, and 
 deep water need no longer be dreaded. 
 
 The three castaways considered themselves as having 
 reached the shore. 
 
 Harry and Terence were about to continue on to the 
 beach, when Colin called to them to come to a stop. 
 
 " Why ? " inquired Harry. 
 
 *' What for ? " asked Terence. 
 
 " Before touching dry land," suggested the thoughtful Co 
 lin, " suppose we decide what has been the fate of poor Old 
 BUI." 
 
 "How can we tell that?" interrogated the other two. 
 
 " Stand still awhile ; w^e shall soon see whether his heac 
 is yet above water." 
 
 Harry and Terence consented to the proposal of theif 
 comrade, but without exactly comprcliending its import. 
 
 " What do you mean, Coley ? " asked the impatient Hi 
 berniau. 
 
 " To see if the tide's still rising," was the explanation 
 given by the Scotch youth. 
 
SAFE ASHORE. 27 
 
 »■* And what if il be ? " demanded Terence. 
 
 " On\y, that if it be, we ivill never more see tbe old sailor 
 iu the land of the living. We may look for his lifeless corpse 
 »fter it has been washed ashore." 
 
 " Ah ! I comprehend you," said Terence. 
 
 " You 're right," added Harry. " If the tide be still rising, 
 Old Bill is under it by this time. I dare say his body will 
 drift ashore before morning." 
 
 They stood still, — all three of them. They watched the 
 water, as it rippled up against their limbs, taking note of its 
 ebbing and flowing. They watched with eyes full of anx- 
 ious solicitude. They continued this curious vigil for full 
 twenty minutes. They would have patiently prolonged it 
 Etill further had it beeu necessary. But it was not. No 
 further observation was required to convince them that the 
 tidal current was still carried towards the shore ; and that 
 the water was yet deepening around them. 
 
 The data thus obtained were sufficient to guide them to 
 the solution of the sad problem. During that interval, while 
 they were swimming and wading across the bay, the tide 
 must have been continually on the increase. It must have 
 risen at least a yard. A foot would be sufficient to have 
 submerged the sailor : smce he could not swim. There was 
 but one conclusion to which they could come. Their com- 
 panion must have been drowned. 
 
 "With heavy hearts they turned their faces toward the 
 shore, — thinking more of the sad fate of the sailor than 
 theu' own future. 
 
 Scarce had they proceeded a dozen steps, when a shout, 
 heard from behind, caused them to come to a sudden stop. 
 
 " Avast there ! " cried a voice that seemed to rise from 
 out the depths of the sea. 
 
 " It 's Bill ! " exclaimed all three in the same breath. 
 
 " 'Old on my 'arties, if that 's yerselves that I see ! ' 
 cwitinued the voice. " Arrah, 'old on there. I 'm so tirijd 
 
28 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 ivadin', I want a short spell to rest myself. "Wait now, aiij 
 I '11 come to ycz, as soon as I can take a reef out of my 
 tops'ls." 
 
 The joy caused by this gi-eeting, great as it was, was 
 scarce equal to the surprise it inspired. They who heard it 
 were for some seconds incredulous. The sound of the sail- 
 or's voice, well known as it was, with something like the 
 figure of a human being dimly seen through the uncertain 
 mist that shadowed the surface of the water was proof 
 that he still lived ; while, but the moment before, there ap- 
 peared substantial proof that he must have gone to the bot- 
 tom. Their incredulity even continued, till more positive 
 evidence to the contrary came before them, in the shape of 
 the old man-o'-war's-man himself; who, rapidly splashing 
 through the more shallow water, in a few seconds stood 
 face to face with the three brave boys whom he had so 
 lately urged to abandon him. 
 
 " Bill, is it you ? " cried all three in a breath. 
 
 " Auch ! and who else would yez expect it to be ? Did 
 yez take me for 'ould Neptune risin' hout of the say ? Or 
 did yez think I was a mare-maid ? Gee me a grip o' yer 
 wee lists, ye bonny boys. Ole Bill warn't born to be 
 drowned ! " 
 
 " But how did ye come, Bill ? The tide 's been rising 
 ever since we left you." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Terence, " I see how it is, the bay isn't so 
 deep after all : you've waded all the way." 
 
 " Avast there, master Terry ! not half the way, thougli 
 I've waded part of it. There's wather between here and 
 where you left me, deep enough to dhrown Phil Macool. [ 
 did n't crass the bay by wading at all — at all." 
 
 « How then ? " 
 
 ** I was ferried on a nate little ci'aft — as yez all knowfc 
 of — the same that carried us safe to the sana-spit." 
 
 " The spar * " 
 
UNCOMFORTABLE QUARTERS. 29 
 
 * Hexactly as je say. Just as I was about to gee my 
 last gasp, something struck me on the back o' the he^d, mak 
 ing me duck under the wather. What was that but Jie 
 tops'l yard. Hech ! I was na long in mountin' on to it. 
 I've left it out there afther I feeled my toes traiJin' along 
 the bottom. Now, my bonny babies, that's how Old Bill 's 
 been able to rejoin ye. Flippers all round once more ; and 
 then let 's see what sort o' a shore we 've got to make port 
 upon." 
 
 An enthusiastic shake of the hands passed between the 
 old sailor and his youthful companions; after which the faces 
 of all were turned towards the shore, still only dimly distio- 
 guishable, and uninviting as seen, but more welcome to the 
 sight than the wilderness of water stretcliing as if to infmitr 
 behind them. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 UNCOMFORTABLE QUARTERS. 
 
 THE waders had still some distance to go before reach- 
 ing dryland; but, after splashing for about twenty 
 minutes longer, they at length stood upon the shore. Aa 
 the tide was still flowing in they continued up the beach ; 
 80 as to place themselves beyond the reach of the water, in 
 the event of its rising still higher. 
 
 They had to cross a wide stretch of wet sand before they 
 could find a spot sufficiently elevated to secure them against 
 the further influx of the tide. Having, at length, discov- 
 ered such a spot, they stopped to deliberate on what was 
 best to be done. 
 
 They would fain have had a fire to (h-y their drijping 
 
30 THE BOY SLA\T:S. 
 
 garments : for tlie night Lad grown chilly undei the rac 
 fluence 6f the fog. 
 
 The old sailor had his flint, steel, and tinder — the latter 
 still safe in its water-tight tin box ; but there was no fuel 
 to be found near. Tlie spar, even could they have broken 
 it up, was still floating, or stranded, in the shoal water — 
 more than a mile to seaward. 
 
 In the absence of a fire they adopted the only other 
 mode they could think of to get a little of the water out of 
 their clothes. They stripped themselves to the skin, wrung 
 out each article separately ; and then, giving each a good 
 Bhake, put them on again — leaving it to the natural warmth 
 of their bodies to complete the process of drying. 
 
 By the time they had finished tliis operation, the mist 
 had become sensibly thinner ; and the moon, suddenly 
 emerging from under a cloud, enabled them to obtain a bet- 
 t<3r view of the shore upon which they had set foot. 
 
 Landward, as far as they could see, there appeared to be 
 nothing but white sand — shining like silver under the light 
 of the moon. Up and down the coast the same landscape 
 could be dimly distinguished. 
 
 It was not a level surface that was thus covered with 
 sand, but a conglomeration of hillocks and ridges, blending 
 uito each other and forming a labyrinth, that seemed to 
 stretch interminably on all sides — except towards the sea 
 itself. 
 
 It occurred to them to climb to the highest of the hil- 
 locks. From its summit they would have a better view of 
 the country beyond ; and perhaps discover a place suitable 
 for an encampment — perhaps some timber might then come 
 into vi«w — fnm which they would be able to obtain a few 
 sticks. 
 
 On attempting to scale the " dune," they found that their 
 wading was not yet at an end. Though no longer in th« 
 water, they sank to their knees at every step, in soft yioldr 
 ing sand. 
 
UNCOMFORTABLE QUARTERS. 31 
 
 The ascent of the hillock, though scarce a hundred feet 
 high, proved exceedingly toilsome — much more so than 
 wading knee-deep in water — but they floundered on, and 
 at length reached the summit. 
 
 To the right, to the left, in front of them, far as the eye 
 could reach, nothing but hills and ridges of sand — that ap- 
 peared under the moonlight of a whiteness approaching to 
 that of snow. In fact, it would not have been difficult to 
 fancy that the country was covered with a heavy coat of 
 snow — as often seen in Sweden, or the Northern parts of 
 Scotland — drifted into " wreaths," and spurred hillocks of 
 every imaginable form. 
 
 It was pretty, but soon became painful from its monotony; 
 and the eyes of that shipwrecked quartette were even glad 
 to turn once more to the scarce less monotonous blue of the 
 ocean. 
 
 Inland, they could perceive other sand-hills — higher 
 than that to which they had climbed — and long crested 
 " combings," with deep valleys between ; but not one object 
 to gladden their sight — nothing that offered promise of 
 either food, drink, or shelter. 
 
 Had it not been for their fatigue they might have gone 
 farther. Since the moon had consented to show herself, 
 there was light enough to travel by ; and they might have 
 proceeded on — either through the sand-dunes or along the 
 shore. But of the four there was not one — not even the 
 tough old tar himself — who was not regularly done up, 
 both with weariness of body and spirit. The short slumber 
 upon the spit — from which they had been so unexpectedly 
 Btartled — had refreshed them but little ; and, as they stood 
 upon the summit of the sand-hill, all four felt as if they 
 could drop down, and go to sleep on the instant. 
 
 It was a couch sufficiently inviting, and they would at once 
 have availed themselves of it, but for a circumstance that 
 suggested to them the idea of seeking a still better place foT 
 repose. 
 
32 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 The land wind was blowing in from the ocean ; and, ao* 
 cordinc; to the forecast of Old Bill — a great practical me- 
 teorologist, — it promised ere long to become a gale. It waa 
 already sufficiently violent — and chill to boot — to maka 
 the situation on the summit of the dune anything but com- 
 fortable. There was no reason why they should make their 
 couch upon that exposed prominence. Just on the land 
 ward side of the hillock itself — below, at its base — thej 
 perceived a more sheltered situation ; and why not select that 
 spot for their resting place ? 
 
 There was no reason why they should not. Old Bill 
 proposed it ; there was no opposition offered by his young 
 companions, — and, without further parley, the four went 
 floundering down the sloping side of the sand-hill, into the 
 sheltered convexity at its base. 
 
 On arriving at the bottom, they found themselves in the 
 narrowest of ravines. The hillock from which they had de- 
 scended was but the highest summit of a long ridge, trending 
 in the same direction as the coast. Another ridge, of about 
 equal height, ran parallel to this on the landward side. The 
 bases of the two approached so near, that their sloping sides 
 formed an angle with each other. On account of the abrupt 
 acclivity of both, this angle was almost acute, and the ravine 
 between the two resembled a cavity out of which some great 
 wedge had been cut, -^ like a section taken from the side of 
 a gigantic melon. 
 
 It was in this re-entrant angle that the castaAvays foimd 
 themselves, after descending the side of the dune, and Vhere 
 they had proposed spending the remainder of the night. 
 
 They were somewhat disappointed on reaching their 
 sleeping-quarters, and finding them so liraiied as to space 
 In the bottom of the ravine there was not breadth enough 
 for a bed, — even for the shortest of the party, — supposing 
 him desirous of sleeping in a horizontal position. 
 
 There were not six feet of surface — nor even three — 
 
r-NCOMFORTABLE QUARTERS. 33 
 
 that could Rtiictly be called horizontal. Even longitudi* 
 Dally, the bottom of the " gully " had a sloping inclination : 
 for the ravine itself tended upwards, until it became extin- 
 guished in the convergerce of its inclosing ridges. 
 
 On discovering the unexpected " strait " into which they 
 had launched themselves, our adventurers were for a time 
 nonplussed. They felt inclined to proceed farther in search 
 of a " better bed," but their weariness outweighed this in- 
 clination ; and, after some hesitation, they resolved to remain 
 n the " ditch," into which they had so unwillingly descended. 
 They proceeded therefore to encouch tlieraselves. 
 
 Their first attempt was made by placing themselves in a 
 half-standing position — their backs supported upon the 
 sloping side of one of the ridges, with their feet resting 
 against the other. So long as they kept awake, this posi- 
 tion was both easy and pleasant ; but the moment any one 
 of them closed his eyes in sleep, — and this was an event 
 almost instantaneous, — his muscles, relaxed by slumber, 
 would no longer have the strength to sustain him ; and the 
 consequence would be an uncomfortable collapse to the bot- 
 tom of the " gully," where anything like a position of repose 
 was out of the question. 
 
 This vexatious interruption of their slumbers happening 
 repeatedly, at length roused all four to take fresh counsel as 
 to choosing a fresh couch. 
 
 Terence had been especially annoyed by these repeated 
 disturbances ; and proclaimed his determination not to sub- 
 mit to them any longer. He would go in search of more 
 ** comfortable quarters." 
 
 He had arisen to his feet, and appeared in the act of startr 
 ing off. 
 
 " We had better not separate," suggested Harry Blount. 
 "If we do, we may find it difficult to come together 
 again." 
 
 " There 's something in what you say, Hal," said the young 
 
 2* 
 
S4 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Scotclimau. " It will not do for us to lose sigl t of one an- 
 other. What does Bill say to it ? " 
 
 " I say, stay here," put in the voice of the sailor. " It 
 won't do to stray the wan from the t' other. No, it won't. 
 Let us hol<i fast, thin, where we *re already belayed." 
 
 " But who the deuce can sleep here ? " remonstrated the 
 son of Firio. "A liard-worked horse can sleep standing; 
 and so can an elephant, they say ; but, for me, I 'd prefer 
 six feet of the horizontal — even if it were a hard stone — 
 to this dope of the softest sand." 
 
 " Stay, Terry ! " cried Colin. " I 've captured an idea." 
 
 " Ah ! you Scotch are always capturing something — ■ 
 whether it be an idea, a flea, or the itch. Let's hear what 
 it ij." 
 
 "After that insult to ma kin tree," good-humoredly ro- 
 joined Colin, " I dinna know whuther I wuU." 
 
 " Come, Colin," interrupted Harry Blount, " if you 've 
 any good counsel to give us, pray don't witlihold it. We 
 can't get sleep, standing at an angle of forty-five degrees. 
 Why should we not tiy to change our position by seeking 
 another place ? " 
 
 " Well, Harry, as you l;ave made the request, I '11 tell 
 you what 's just come into my mind. I only feel astonished 
 it did n't occur to any of us sooner." 
 
 " Mother av Moses 1 " cried Terence, jocularly adopting 
 his native brogue ; " and why don't you out with it at 
 wanse ? — you Scatch are the thrue rid-tape of society." 
 
 " Never mind, Colly ! " interposed Blount ; " there 's no 
 time to listen to Terry's badinage. We're all too sleepy 
 for jesting ; tell us what you 've got in your mind." 
 
 " All of ye do as you see me, and, I 'II be your bail, ye 'U 
 aleep sound till the dawn o' the day. Good night ! " 
 
 As Colin pronounced the salutation he sank down to the 
 bottom of the ravine, where, stretched lo igitudinally, he 
 might repose without the slightest danger of being awakened 
 by slipping fi-om his couch. 
 
A ilisfiiiiv .iit. ««.*k 
 
 I 
 
 .'llliiid!' 
 
 i «li 
 
 
'WARE THE SAND! 33 
 
 On seeing him tlius disposed, the o. hers only wondered 
 they had not thought of the thing before. 
 
 They were too sleepy to speculate long' upon their own 
 thoughtlessness ; and one after the other, imitating the ex- 
 ample set them by tlie young Scotchman, laid their bodies 
 lengthwise along the bottom of the ravine, and entered up- 
 on the enjoyment of a slumber from which all the kettle 
 drums in creation would scarce have awaked them. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 'ware the sand ! 
 
 AS the gully m which they had gone to rest was too 
 narrow to permit of them lying side by side, they 
 were disposed in a sort of lengthened chain, with their heads 
 all turned in the same direction. The bottom of the ravine, 
 as already stated, had a slight inclination ; and they had, of 
 course, placed themselves so that their heads should be high- 
 er than their feet. 
 
 The old sailor was at the lower end of this singular se- 
 ries, with the feet of Harry Blount just above the crown of 
 his head. Above the head of Harry were the heels of Ter- 
 ence O'Connor; and, at the top of all, reclined Colin, — in 
 the place where he had first stretched himself. 
 
 On account of the slope of the ground, the four were thus 
 disposed in a sort of echelon forma' ion, of which Old Bill 
 was the base. They had dropped into their respective po 
 jitious, one after the other, as they lay. 
 
 The sailor had been the last to commit himself to this 
 cu'-'ous couch ; he was also the last to surrender to sleep 
 For some time after the others had become unconscious of 
 
S6 THE BOT sla\t:s. 
 
 outward impressions, he lay listening to the " sough " of tht 
 Bea, and the sighing of the breeze, as it blew along tba 
 smooth sides of the sandhills. 
 
 He did not remain awake for any great length of tima 
 He was weaned, as well as his young comrades ; and soon 
 elso yielded his spirit to the embrace of the god Som- 
 nus. 
 
 Before doing so, however, he had made an observation, — 
 one of a character not likely to escape the notice of an old 
 mariner such as he. He had become conscious that a storm 
 was brewing in the sky. The sudden sliadowing of the 
 heavens ; — the complete disappearance of the moon, leav- 
 ing even the white landscape in darkness ; — her red color 
 as she went out of sight; — the increased noise caused by 
 the roaring of the breakers ; and the louder " swishing " of 
 the wind itself, which began to blow in quick gusty puffs ; 
 all these sights and sounds admonished him that a gale was 
 coming on. 
 
 He instinctively noted these signs; and on board ship 
 would have heeded them, — so far as to have alarmed the 
 sleeping watch, and counselled precaution. 
 
 But stretched upon terra firma — not so very firm had he 
 but known it — between two huge hills, where he and his 
 companions were tolerably well sheltered from the wind, it 
 never occurred to tlie old salt, that they could be in any 
 danger; and simply muttering to himself, "the storm ba 
 blowed ! " he laid his weather-beaten face upon the pillow 
 of soft sand, and delivered himself up to deep slumber. 
 
 The silent prediction of the sailor turned out a true fore- 
 cast. Sure enough there came a storm ; which, before the 
 castaways had been half an hour asleep, increased to a tem- 
 pest. It was one of those sudden uprisings of the elements 
 common in all tropical countries, but especially so in the des- 
 ert tracts of Arabia and Africa, — where the atmosphere, 
 rarefied by lieat, and becomuig highly volatile, suddenly loses 
 
•WARE THE sand! 3? 
 
 its equilibrium, and rushes like a destroying angel over tha 
 surface of the earth. 
 
 The phenomenon that had broken over the arenaceous 
 couch, — upon which slept the four castaways, — was neither 
 more nor less than a " sandstorm ; " or, to give it its Arab 
 title, a simoom. 
 
 The misty vapor that late hung suspended in the atmos- 
 phere had been swept away by the first puff of the wind ; 
 and its place was now occupied by a cloud equally dense, 
 though perhaps not so constant, — a cloud of white sand 
 lifted from the surface of the earth, and whirled high up to- 
 wards heaven, — even far out over the waters of the ocean. 
 
 Had it been daylight, huge volumes, of what might have 
 appeared dust, might have been seen rolling over the ridges 
 of sand, — here swirling into rounded pillar-like shapes, that 
 could easily have been mistaken for solid columns, standing 
 for a time in one place, then stalking over the summits of 
 the hills, or suddenly breaking into confused and cumbering 
 masses ; while the heavier particles, no longer kept in sus- 
 pension by the rotatory whirl, might be seen spilling back 
 towards the- earth, like a sand-shower projected downward 
 through some gigantic " screen." 
 
 In the midst of this turbulent tempest of wind and sand 
 — with not a single drop of rain, — the castaways continued 
 to sleep. 
 
 One might suppose — as did the old man-o'-war's-man 
 before going to sleep — that they were not in any danger ; 
 not even as much as if their couch had been under the re of 
 of a house, or strewn amid the leaves of the forest. Thtre 
 were no trees to be blown down upon them, no bricks nor 
 large chimney-pots to come crashing through the ceiling, 
 and crush them as they lay upon their beds. 
 
 What danger could there be among the "dunes? " 
 
 Not much to a man awake, and with open eyes. In, such 
 a situation, there might be discomfort, but no danger. 
 
38 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Different however, was it with the slumbering castaways 
 Over them a peri] was suspended — a real peril — of which 
 perhaps, on that night not one of them was dreaming — and 
 in which, perhaps, not one of them would have put belief, — ■ 
 but for the experience of it they were destined to be taught 
 before the morning. 
 
 Could an eye have looked upon them as they lay, it would 
 have beheld a picture sufficiently suggestive of danger. It 
 would have seen four human figures stretched along the bot- 
 tom of a narrow ravine, longitudinally aligned with one an- 
 other — their heads all turned one way, and in point of 
 elevation slightly en echelon — it would have noted that these 
 forms were asleep, that they were already half buried in 
 sand, which, apparently descending from the clouds was still 
 settling around them ; and that, unless one or other of them 
 awoke, all four should certainly become " smoored." 
 
 What does this mean? Merely a slight inconvenience 
 arising from having the mouth, ears, and nostrils obstructed 
 by sand, which a little choking, and sneezing, and coughing 
 would soon remove. 
 
 Ask the Highland shepherd who has imprudently gone to 
 sleep under the " blowin' sna' " ; question the Scandinavian, 
 whose calling compels him to encamp on the open " fjeld " ; 
 interrogate Swede or Norwegian, Finn or Lapp, and you 
 may discover the danger of being " smoored." 
 
 That would be in the snow, — the light, vascular, porous, 
 permeable snow, — under which a human being may move, 
 and through which he may breathe, — though tons of it may 
 be superpoised above his body, — the snow that, while im- 
 prisoning its victim, also gives him' warmth, and affords him 
 Bhelter, — perilous as that shelter may be. 
 
 Ask the Arab what it is to be " smoored " by sand ; ques- 
 tion the wild Bedouin of the Bled-el-jereed, — the Tuarick 
 and Tiboo of the Eastern Desert, — they v^ill tell you it is 
 danger often death! 
 
'WARE THE SANDl 39 
 
 Little dreamt the four sleepers as they lay uncunscioua 
 under that swirl of sand, — little even would they have sus- 
 pected, if awake, — that there was danger in the situation. 
 
 There was, for all that, a danger, great as it was immi- 
 nent, — the danger, not only of their bemg " smoored," but 
 stifled, suffocated, buried fathoms deep under the sands of 
 the Saiira, for fathoms deep will often be the drift of a 
 single night. 
 
 The Arabs say that, once "submerged" beneath the are 
 naceous " flood," a man loses the power to extricate himself. 
 His energies are suspended, his senses become numbed and 
 torpid — in short, he feels as one who goes to sleep in a 
 snow-storm. 
 
 It may be true ; but, whether or no, it seemed as if the 
 four English castaways had been stricken with this inexpli 
 cable paralysis. Despite the hoarse roaring of the breakers, 
 despite the shrieking and whistling of the wind, despite the 
 dust constantly being deposited on their bodies, and entering 
 ears, mouth, and nostrils, — despite the stifling sensation one 
 would suppose they must have felt, and which should have 
 awakened them, — despite all, they continued to sleep. It 
 seemed as if that sleep was to be eternal ! 
 
 If they heard not the storm Ihat raged savagely above 
 them, if they felt not the sand that pressed heavily upon 
 them, what was there to warn, what to aiouse them from 
 that ill -starred slumber? 
 
4^ THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A MYSTERIOUS NIGHTMARE. 
 
 THE fcjr castaways had been asleep for a couple of 
 hours, — tliat is, from the time that, following the ex- 
 ample of the young Scotchman, they had stretched them- 
 selves along the bottom of the ravine. It was not quite an 
 hour, however, since the commencement of the sand-storm ; 
 and yet in this short time the arenaceous dust had accumu- 
 lated to the thickness of several inches upon their bodies ; 
 and a person passing the spot, or even stepping right over 
 them, could not have told that four human beings were bur- 
 ied beneath. — that is, upon the supposition that they would 
 have lain still, and not got startled from their slumbers by 
 the foot thus treading upon them. 
 
 Perhaps it was a fortunate circumstance for them, that by 
 such a contingency they might be awakened, and that by 
 such they were awakened. 
 
 Otherwise their sleep might have been protracted into the 
 still deeper sleep — from which there is no awaking. 
 
 All four had begun to feel — if any sensation while asleep 
 can be so called — a sense of suffocation, accompanied by a 
 heaviness of the limbs and torpidity in the joints, — as if 
 some immense weight was pressing upon their bodies, that 
 rendered it impossible for them to stir either toe or finger 
 It was a sensation similar to that so well known, and so 
 much dreaded, under the name of nightmare. It may have 
 been the very same ; and was, perhaps, brought on as much 
 by the extreme weariness they all felt, as by the Buperiu- 
 cumbent weight of the sand. 
 
 Tlieir heads, lying higher than their bodies, were not so 
 deeply buried under the drift ; which, blown lightly oveJ 
 their faces, still permitted the atmosphere to puss through i* 
 
A MYSTERIOUS NIGHTMARE. 41 
 
 Otherwise tlieir breathing would have been stopped alto 
 gether ; and death must have been the necessary conse- 
 quence. 
 
 Whether it was a genuine nightmare or no, it was accom* 
 panied by all the horrors of this phenomenon. As they af- 
 terwards declared, all four felt its influence, each in his own 
 way dreaming of some fearful fascination from wliich he 
 could make no effort to escape. Strange enough, their 
 dreams were different. Harry Blount thought he was M- 
 ing over a precipice; Colin that a gigantic ogre had got 
 hold of and was going to eat him up ; while the young Hi- 
 bernian fancied himself in the midst of a conflagration, a 
 dwelling house on fire, from which he could not get out ! 
 
 Old Bill's delusion was more in keeping with their situa- 
 tion, — or at least with that out of which they had lately 
 escaped. He simply supposed that he was submerged in 
 the sea, and as he knew he could not swim, it was but nat- 
 ural for him to fancy that he was drowning. 
 
 Still, he could make no struggle ; and, as he would have 
 done this, whether able to swim or not, his di-eam did nrl 
 exactly resemble the real thing. 
 
 The sailor was the first to escape from the uncomfortable 
 incubus ; though there was but an instant between the 
 awakening of all. They were startled out of their sleep, 
 one after another, in the order in which they lay,, and in- 
 versely to that in which they had lain down. 
 
 Their awakening was as mysterious as the nightmaro 
 itself, and scarce relieved them from the horror which the 
 latter had been occasioning. 
 
 All felt in turn, and in quick succes.-^ion, a heavy cnuhing 
 pressure, either on the limbs or body, which had the effect, 
 not only to startle them from their sleep, but caused them 
 considerable pain. 
 
 Twice was tliis pressure applied, almost exactly on the 
 game spot, aMd with scarce a second's interval between the 
 
42 THE BOY SLA\T^S. 
 
 applications. It could not well have been repeated a third 
 time with like exactness, even had such been the design of 
 AThatever creature was causing it; for, after the second 
 squeeze, each had recovered sulficient consciousness to know 
 he was in danger of being crushed, and make a desperate 
 effort to withdraw himself. 
 
 The exclamations, proceeding from four sets of lips, told 
 that all were still in the land of the living ; but the confused 
 questioning that followed did nothing towards elucidatmg 
 the cause of that sudden and almost simultaneous uprising. 
 
 There was too much sneezing and coughing to permit of 
 anything like clear or coherent speech. The shumu was 
 etill blowing. There was sand in the mouths and nostrils 
 of all four, and dust in their eyes. Their talk more re- 
 sembled the jibbering of apes, who had unwisely intruded 
 into a snuff shop, than the conversation of four rational 
 beings. 
 
 It was some time before any one of them could shape hia 
 speech, so as to be understood by the others ; and, after all 
 had at length succeeded in making themselves intelligible, it 
 was found that each had the same story to tell. Each had 
 felt two pressures on some part of his person ; and had 
 seen, thougli very indistinctly, some huge creature passing 
 over him, — apparently a quadruped, though wliat sort of 
 quadruped none of them could tell. All they knew was, 
 that it was a gigantic, uncouth creature, with a narrow body 
 and neck, and very long legs ; and that it had feet there 
 could be no doubt : since it was these that had pressed so 
 heavily upon tliem. 
 
 But fjr the swirl of the sand-storm, and the dust already 
 in their eyes, they might have been able to give a better 
 description of the creature that had so unceremoniously 
 stepped over them. These impediments, however, had 
 hi'idered them from obtaining a fair view of it; and soma 
 animal, — grotesquely shaped, with a long neck, body, and 
 
A MYSTEaUUS NIGHTMARE. 43 
 
 legs, — was tie image which remained in the excited minda 
 01 the awakened sleepers. 
 
 Whatever it was, they were all sufficiently frightened to 
 Btaud for some time trembling. Just awaking from such 
 dreams, it was but natural they should surrender themselves 
 to strange imaginings ; and instead of endeavoring to iden- 
 tify the odd-looking animal, if animal it was, they were 
 rather inclined to set it down as some creature of a super- 
 natural kind. 
 
 The three midshipmen were but boys, not so long from 
 the nursery as to have altogether escaped from the weird 
 influence which many a nursery tale had wrapped around 
 them ; and as for old Bill, fiity years spent in " ploughing 
 the ocean " had only confirmed him in the belief, that the 
 " black art " is not so mythical as philoso^Dhers would have 
 us think. 
 
 So frightened were all four, that, after the first ebullition 
 of their surprise had subsided, they no longer gave utter- 
 ance to speech, but stood listening, and trembling as they 
 listened. Perhaps, had they known the service which the 
 intruder had done for them, they might have felt gratitude 
 towards it, instead of the suspicion and dread that for some 
 moments kept them, as if spell-bound, in their places. It 
 
 did not occur to any of the party, that that strange » 
 
 mons from sleep — more effective than the half-whispered 
 invitation of a valet-de-cJiamhrey or tlie I'inging of a break- 
 fast-bell — had in all probability rescued them from a silent, 
 but certain death. 
 
 They stood, as I have said, listening. Tliere were sev- 
 eral distinct sounds that saluted their ears. There was the 
 '* sough " of the sea, as it came swelling up the gorgf ; the 
 "whish" of the wind, as it impinged upon the crests of the 
 ridges; and the "swish "of the sand af it settled around 
 them. 
 
 AU tbes3 were the voices of inanimate objects, — pheunm 
 
44 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 ena of nature, easily understood. But, rising above thom^ 
 were heard sounds of a different character, which, though 
 they might be equally natural, were not equally familiar to 
 those who Hstened to them. 
 
 There was a sort of dull battering, — as ii some gigantic 
 creature was performing a Terpsichorean feat upon the 
 sand-bank above them ; but sharper sounds were heard at 
 intervals, — screams commingled with short snortings, both 
 proclaiming something of the nature of a struggle. 
 
 Neither in the screams nor the snortings was there any- 
 thing that the listeners could identify as sounds they had 
 ever heard before. They were alike perplexing to the ears 
 of English, Irish, and Scotch. Even old Bill, who had 
 heard, sometime or other, nearly every sound known to cre- 
 ation, could not classify them. 
 
 " Divil take thim ! " whispered he to his companions , " 1 
 dinna know what to make av it. It be hawful to 'ear 'em ! " 
 
 " Hark ! " ejaculated Harry Blount. 
 
 " Hish ! " exclaimed Terence. 
 
 « Wheesh ! " muttered Colin. " It's coming nearer, what- 
 ever it may be. Wheesh ! " 
 
 There could be no doubt about the truth of this conjec- 
 ture ; for as the caution passed from the lips of the young 
 ~ ;otchman, the dull hammering, the snorts, and the un 
 earthly screams were evidently drawing nearer, — though 
 the creature that was causing them was unseen through the 
 thick sand-mist still surrounding the listeners. These, how- 
 ever, heard enough to know that some heavy body was mak- 
 ing a rapid descent down the sloping gorge, and with an im- 
 petuosity that rendered it prudent for them to get out of ita 
 way. 
 
 More by an instinct, than from any correct appreciation 
 ot the danger, all four fell back irom the narrow trench in 
 which they had been standing, — each, as he best couM, ro- 
 treating up the declivity of the sand-hill. 
 
THE MAHEERT. -45 
 
 S(]6i-oe v((3r3 they able to obtain footing in their new posi- 
 bvi, when the sounds they had heard not only became 
 louder and nearer, but the creature that had been causing 
 tnera pa.?sed close to their feet, — so close that most of them 
 could Iia\9 touched it with their toes. 
 
 For all ihc\t, not one of the party could tell what it was ; 
 and after it had passed, — on its way down the ravine, — 
 and was once mere lost to their view amid the swirling sand, 
 they were not a bit further advanced in their knowledge of 
 the strange crea'.ure that had come so near crushing out their 
 existence with itf ponderous weight ! 
 
 All that they had been able to see was a conglomeration 
 of dark objects, — resembling the head, neck, body, and 
 limbs of some uncouth animal, — while the sounds that, pro- 
 ceeded from it were like utterances that might have come 
 from some other world ; for certainly they had but slight 
 resemblance to anything the castaways had ever heard in 
 this — either upon sea, oi laud ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE MAHERRT. 
 
 171011 some length of time they stood conjecturing, — the 
 boys with clasped hands, — Old Bill near, but apart. 
 During this time, at intervals, they continued to hear the 
 sounds that had so astonished them — the stamping, the 
 Bnoi ts, and the screaming, though they no longer saw the 
 creature that caused them. 
 
 The sand gully opened towards the sea, in a diagonal 
 direction. It could not be many yards to the spot, where it 
 debouched upon the level of the beach; ard the crfalure 
 
46 THE BOY SLA\'T:S. 
 
 that had cansed them such a surprise — and was still con 
 tiauing to c«cupy their thoughts — must have reached this 
 level surfiice : though not to suspend its exertions. Every 
 now and then could be heard the same repetition of dull 
 noisas, — as if some animal was kicking itself to death, — 
 varied by trumpet-like snorts and agonizing screams, which 
 could be likened to the cry of no animal upon earth. 
 
 But that the castaways knew they were on the coast of 
 Africa, — that continent renowned for strange existences, — 
 they might have been even more disposed to a supernatural 
 belief in what was near them ; but as the minutes passed, 
 and their senses began to return to them, they became more 
 inclined to think that what they had seen, heard, and felt, 
 might be only some animal — a heavy quadruped — that 
 had trampled over them in their sleep. 
 
 The chief difficulty in reconciling this belief with the ar 
 tual occurrence was the odd behavior of the animal. Why 
 had it gone up the gorge, apparently parenti passu, to come 
 tumbling down again in such a confused fashion ? Why was 
 it still kicking and stumbling about at the bottom of the ra- 
 vine, — for such did the sounds proclaim it to be doing ? 
 
 No answer could be given to either of these questions ; 
 and none was given, until day dawned over tlie sand-hills. 
 This was soon after ; and along with the morning light had 
 come the cessation of the simoom. 
 
 Then saw the castaways that creature that had so abrupt- 
 ly awakened them from their slumbers, — and, by so doing, 
 perhaps, saved their lives. They saw it recumbent at the 
 bottom of the gorge, where they had so uneasily passed the 
 night. 
 
 It proved to be — what from the slight glimpse they had 
 got of it, they were inclined to believe — an animal, and a 
 qiradruped ; and if it had presented an uncouth appearance, 
 a3 it stepped over them In the darkness, not less so did it 
 Appear as tliey now beheld it, under the light of day. 
 
THE MAHERRY. 47 
 
 It was an animal of very large size, — in height far ex- 
 ceeding a horse, — but of such a grotesque shape as to U 
 easily recognizable by any one who had ever glanced into a 
 picture-book of quadrupeds. Tiie long craning neck, witl- 
 an almost earless head and gibbous profile ; the great strag 
 gling limbs, callous at the knees, and ending in broad, wide 
 splitting hooves ; the slender hind-quarters, and tiny, tufted 
 tail, — both ludicrously disproportioned, — the tumid, mis- 
 shapen trunk ; but, above all, the huge hunch rising above 
 the shoulders, at once proclaimed the creature to be a drome- 
 dary. 
 
 " Och ! it 's only a kaymal ! " cried Old Bill, as soon as 
 the daylight enabled him to get a fair view of the animal. 
 " What on hearth is it doin' 'ere ? " 
 
 " Sure enough," suggested Terence, " it was this beast 
 that stepped over us while we were asleep! It almost 
 squeezed the breath out of mc, for it set its hoof right upon 
 the pit of my stomach." 
 
 "The same with me," said Colin. "It simk me down 
 nearly a foot into the sand. Ah, we have reason to be 
 thankful there was that drift-sand over our bodies at the 
 time. If not, the great brute might have crushed us to 
 death ! " 
 
 There was some truth in Colin's observation. But for 
 tlie covering of sand, — which acted as a cushion, — and also 
 from that which formed their couch yielding beneal^i them, 
 the hoof of the great quadruped might have caused them a 
 serious injury. As it was, none of them had received any 
 hurt beyond the fright which the strange intruder had occa- 
 eioned them. 
 
 The singular incident was yet only half explained. They 
 eaw it was a camel that had disturbed their slumbers ; that 
 the animal had been 'on its way up the ravine, — perhaps 
 seeking shelter from the sand-storm ; but what had caused 
 it to return so suddenly back down the slope ? Abo\ e all, 
 
43 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 why had it made the downward journey in such a siEgulai 
 manner ? Obscure as had been their view of it, they could 
 see that it did not go on all-fours, but apparently tumbling 
 and struggling, — its long limbs kicking about in the air, as 
 if it was performing the descent by a series of somersaults. 
 
 Ail this had been mysterious enough ; but it was soon ex- 
 plained to the satisfiiction of the four castaways, who, as 
 30on as they saw the camel by the bottom of the gorge, had 
 rushed down and surrounded it. 
 
 The animal was in a recumbent position, — not as if it had 
 Iain down to rest, but in a constrained attitude, with its long 
 neck drawn in towards its forelegs, and its head lying low 
 and half-buried in the sand ! 
 
 As it was motionless when they first perceived it, they 
 fancied it was dead, — that something had wounded it 
 above. This would have explained the fantastic fashion in 
 which it had returned down the slope, — as the somersaults 
 observed might have been only a series of death struggles. 
 
 On getting around it, however, they perceived that it was 
 aot only still alive, but in perfect health ; and its late mys- 
 terious movements were accounted for at a single glance. 
 A strong hair halter, firmly noosed around its head, had got 
 caught in the bifurcation of one of its fore-hoofs, where a 
 knot upon the rope had hindered it from slipping through 
 the deep split. This had first caused it to trip up, and tum- 
 ble head o-^er heels, — inaugurating that series of struggles 
 which had ended in transporting it back to the bottorc of 
 Ihe ravine, — wliere it now lay with the trailing end of th« 
 ong halter knotted inextricably around its legs. 
 
A LIQUID BREAKFAST. 49 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A LIQUID BREAKFAST. 
 
 MELANCHOLY as was the situation of the self-caught 
 camel, it was a joyful sight to those who beheld it. 
 Hungry as they were, its flesh would provide them with 
 food ; and thirsting as they were, they knew that iuside ita 
 stomach would be found a supply of water ! 
 
 Such were their first thoughts as they came around it. 
 
 Tliey soon perceived, however, that to satisfy the latter 
 appetite it would not be necessary for them to kill the camel. 
 Upon the top of its hump was a small, fiat pad or saddle, 
 firmly held in its place by a strong leathern band passing 
 under the animal's belly. This proved it to be a " maherry," 
 or riding camel, — ■■ one of those swift creatures used by the 
 Arabs in their long rapid journeys across the deserts ; and 
 which are common among the tribes inhabiting the Saara. 
 
 It was not this saddle that gratified the eyes of our ad- 
 venturers, but a bag, tightly strapped to it, and resting be- 
 hind the hump of the maherry. This bag was of goatskin, 
 and upon examination was found to be nearly half-full of 
 water. It was, in fact, the " Gerba," or water-skin, belonging 
 to whoever had been the owner of the animal, — an article 
 of camel equipmcr.t more essential than the saddle itself. 
 
 The four castaways, suffering the torture of thirst, EUade 
 no scruple about appropriating the contents of the bag, and, 
 in the shortest possible time, it was stripped from the back 
 of the maherry, its stopper taken out, and the precious fluid 
 extracted from it by all four, in greedy succession, until ita 
 light weight and collapsed sides declared it to be empty. 
 
 Their thirst being thus opportunely assuaged, a council 
 was next held, as to what they should do to appease tl« 
 other appetite. 
 
50 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Should they kill the camel ? 
 
 It appeared to be their ouly chance ; and the impetuoui 
 Terence had already unsheathed his midshipman's dirk, with 
 the design of burying it in the body of the animah 
 
 Colin, however, more prudent in counsel, cried to hira to 
 hold his hand, — at least until they should give the subject 
 a more thorough consideration. 
 
 On this suggestion they proceeded to debate the point be- 
 tween them. They were of different opinions, and equally 
 divided. Two, — Terence and Harry Blount, — were for 
 immediately killing the maherry, and making their bi*eak- 
 fast upon its flesh ; while the sailor joined Colin m voting 
 that it should be reprieved. 
 
 " Let us first make use of the animal to help carry u3 
 somewhere," urged the young Scotchman. " We can go 
 without- food a day longer. Then, if we find nothing, w^e can 
 butcher this beast." 
 
 "But what's to be found in such a country as this?" 
 inquired Harry Blount. " Look around you ! There 's noth- 
 ing green but the sea itself. There is n't anything eatable 
 within sight, — not so much as would make a dinner for a 
 dormouse ! " 
 
 " Perhaps," rejoined Colin, " when we 've travelled a few 
 miles, w^e may come upon a different sort of country. We 
 can keep along the coast. Why should n't we find shell- 
 fish, — enough to keep us alive ? See, — yonder 's a daj'k 
 place down upon the beach. 1 should n't wonder if there 'a 
 Bome there." 
 
 The glances of all were instantly directed towards the 
 beach, — exceptiLg those of Sailor Bill. His were fixed on 
 a different object ; and an exclamation that escaped him — ■ 
 ay well as a movement that accompanied it — arrested the 
 attention of his companions, causing them to turn their eyes 
 upon him. 
 
 " Shell-fish be blow'd," cried Bill, " here 's something 
 better for breakiiist than cowld oysters. Look ! " 
 
A LUUID BREAKFAST. 51 
 
 ♦♦ The sailor, as he spoke, pointed to an ov J-eliaped ob. 
 ject, something larger than a cocoa-nut, appearing between 
 the hind legs of the maherry. 
 
 " It 's a shemale ! " added he, " and 's had a calf not long 
 ago. Look at the ' eldher,' and them tits. They 're swelled 
 wi' milk. There '11 be enough for the whole of us, I war- 
 rant yez." 
 
 As if to make sure of what he said, the sailor dropped 
 down upon his knees by the hind-quarters of the proi5ti-ate 
 camel ; and, taking one of the teats in his mouth, commenced 
 drawing forth the lacteal fluid which the udder contained. 
 
 The animal made no resistance. It might have wondered 
 at the curious " calf" that had thus attached himself to its 
 teats ; but only at the odduess of his color and costume ; for 
 no doubt it had often before been similarly served by its 
 African owner. 
 
 " Fust rate ! " cried Bill, desisting for a moment to take 
 breath. " Ayqual to the richest crame ; if we 'd only a bite 
 av bred to go along wi' it, or some av your Scotch porritch, 
 Master Colin. But I forgets. My brave youngsters," con- 
 tuiued he, rising up and standing to one side, " yez be all 
 hungrier than I am. Go it, wan after another : there '11 be 
 enough for yez all." 
 
 Thus invited, and impelled by their hungry cravings, the 
 three, one after another, knelt down as the sailor had done, 
 and drank copiously from that sweet " fountain of the des- 
 ert." 
 
 Taking it in turns, they continued " sucking," until each 
 had swallowed about a pint and a half of the nutritious fluid 
 when, the udder of the camel becoming dry, tcld that he! 
 supply of milk was, for the time, exhausted. 
 
62 THE BOY SLAVEA. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE SAILOR AlIONQ THE SHELL-FISH. 
 
 IT was no longer a question of slaying the camel. 'JTlial 
 would be killing the goose that gave the golden eggs 
 Though they were still very hungry, the rich milk had to 
 some extent taken the keen edge off their appetites ; and all 
 declared they could now go several hours without eating. 
 
 The next question was : where were they to go ? 
 
 The reader may wonder that this was a question at all 
 Havuig been told that the camel carried a saddle, and was 
 otherwise caparisoned, it will naturally be conjectured that 
 the animal had got loose from some owner, and was simply 
 straying. This was the very hypothesis that passed before 
 *Jie mind of our adventurers. How could they have con- 
 jectured otherwise ? 
 
 Indeed it was scarce a guess. The circumstances toW 
 them to a certainty that the camel must have strayed from 
 its owner. The only question was : where that owner might 
 be found. 
 
 By reading, or otherwise, they possessed enough knowl- 
 edge of the coast, on which they had been cast away, to 
 know that the proprietor of the " stray " would be some 
 kind of an Arab ; and that he would be found living — not 
 in a house or a town — but in a tent ; in all likelihood 
 associated with a number of other Arabs, in an " encamp- 
 ment." 
 
 It required not much reasoning to arrive at these conclu- 
 sions ; and our adventurers had come to them almost on 
 tliat instant, when they first set eyes on the caparisoned 
 camel. 
 
 You may wonder that they did not instantly set forth in 
 search of the master of the maherry ; or of the tent or en" 
 
THE SAILOR AMONG THE SUF.LL-FISII. 53 
 
 campment from which the latter should have strayed. One 
 might suppose, that this would have been their fii-st move- 
 ment. 
 
 On the contrary, it was likely to be iheir very last ; and 
 for sufficient reasons, — which will be discovered in the con- 
 versation that ensued, after they had swallowed their liciiid 
 breakfasts. 
 
 Terence had proposed adopting this course, — that is, to 
 go in search of the man from whom the maherry must have 
 wandered. The young tishman had never been a great 
 reader, — at all events no account of the many " lamentable 
 shipwrecks on the Barbary coast" had ever fallen into his 
 hands, — and he knew nothing of the terrible reputation of 
 its people. Neither had Bill obtained any knowledge of it 
 from books ; but, for all that, — thanks to many a forecastle 
 yarn, — the old sailor was weU informed both about the 
 character of the coast on which they had suffered shipwreck, 
 and its inhabitants. Bill had the best of reasons for dread- 
 ing the denizens of the Saaran desert. 
 
 " Sure they 're not cannibaJs ? " urged Terence. " They 
 won't eat us, any how ? " 
 
 " In troth I 'm not so shure av that, Masther Terry," re- 
 plied Bill. " Even supposiu' they won't ate us, they '11 do 
 worse." 
 " Worse ! " 
 
 " Aye, worse, I tell you. They 'd torture us, till death 
 would be a blissin'." 
 
 " How do you know they would ? " 
 
 « Ach, Masther Terry ! " sighed tlie old sailor, assuming 
 ar air of solemnity, such as his young comrades had ne^er 
 before witnessed upon his usually cheerful countenance ; " I 
 could tell yez something that 'ud convince ye of the truth 
 av what I 've been sayin', an' that '11 gie ye a hidear av what 
 we 've got to expect if we fall into the 'auds av these feero 
 cious Ayrabs." 
 
54 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Bill had already hinted at the prospective peril of an ett 
 counter with the people of the country. 
 
 « Tell us, Bill. What is it?' 
 
 "Well, young masthers, it beant much, — only that my 
 own brother was wrecked som'ere on this same coast. That 
 was ten years agoue. He never returned to owld Heng- 
 land." 
 
 " Perhaps he was drowned ? " 
 
 " Betther for 'im, poor boy, if he 'ad. No, he 'ad n't that 
 luck. The crew, — it was a tradin' vessel, and there wa« 
 tin o' them, — all got safe ashore. They were taken pris- 
 oners as they landed by a lot o' Ayrabs. Only one av tho 
 tin got home to tell the tale ; and he would n't a 'ad the 
 chance but for a Jew merchant at Mogador, that found he 
 had rich relations as 'ud pay well to ransom him. I see 
 him a wee while after he got bkck to Hengland ; and he 
 tell me what he had to go through, and my hown brother as 
 well : for Jim, — that be my brother's name, — was with the 
 tribe as took 'im up the counthry. None o' yez iver heerd 
 o' cruelties like they 'ad to put up with. Death in any way 
 would be aisy, compared to what they 'ad to hendure. Poor 
 Jim ! I suppose he 's dead long ago. Tough as I be my- 
 self, I don't believe I could a stood it a week, — let alone 
 tin years. Talk o' knockin' about like a Turk's head. They 
 were knocked about, an' beat, an' bullied, an' kicked, an' 
 starved, — worse than the laziest lubber as ever skulked 
 about the decks o' a ship. No, Masther Terry, we must n't 
 thiuk av thryin' to find the owner av the beest ; but do 
 everythiuk we can to keep out o' the way av both him and 
 hie." 
 
 " What woidd you advise us to do. Bill ? " 
 
 " I don't know much 'bout where we be," replied the 
 
 sailor ; " but wheresoraever it is, our best plan are to hug 
 
 by the crast, an' keep within sight o' the water. If we go 
 
 innard. we 're sure to get lost one way or t' other !^y keep* 
 
THE SAILOR AMONG THE SJIELL-FISH. 55 
 
 in' south'ard we may come to some thradin' port av *;h€ 
 Portagee." 
 
 " "We 'd better start at once, then," suggested the impa- 
 tient Terence. 
 
 " No, Masther Terry," said the sailor ; " not afore night. 
 We musn't leave 'eer till it gets dark. We '11 'ave to tLiavel 
 betwane two days." 
 
 " What ! " simultaneously exclaimed the three midship- 
 men. " Stay here till night ! Impossible ! " 
 
 " Aye, lads ! an' we must hide, too. Shnre as ye are 
 livin' there '11 be somebody afther this sthray kaymal, — in 
 a wee while, too, as ye '11 see. If we ventured out durin' 
 the daylight, they 'd be sure tp see us from the 'ills. It 'a 
 sayed, the thievin' schouudrels always keep watch when 
 there 's been a wreck upon the coast ; an' I '11 be bound this 
 beest belongs to some av them same wreckers." 
 
 " But what shall we do for food ? " asked one of the party ; 
 " we '11 be famished before nightfall ! The camel, having 
 nothing to eat or drink, won't yield any more milk." 
 
 This interrogative conjecture was probably too near the 
 truth. No one made answer to it. Colin's eyes were again 
 turned towards the beach. Once more he directed the 
 thoughts of his comrades to the shell-fish. 
 
 " Hold your hands, youngsthers," said the sailor. " Lie 
 close 'eer behind the 'ill, an' I '11 see if there 's any shell-fish 
 that we can make a meal av. Now that the sun 's up, it 
 won't do to walk down there. I must make a crawl av it." 
 
 So saying, the old salt, after skulking some distance farther 
 down the sand gully, threw himself flat upon his face, and 
 advanced in this attitude, like some gigantic lizard crawling 
 across the sand. 
 
 The tide was out ; but the wet beach, lately covered by 
 the sea, commenced at a short distance from the base of the 
 ** dunes." 
 
 After a ten minutes' struggle. Bill succeeded in rea hing 
 
56 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 the dark-looking spot where Coliu had coiijecluied tlierf 
 might be shell-lish. 
 
 The old sailor was soon seen busily engaged about some- 
 thing ; and from his movements it was evident, that his enanc! 
 was not to prove fruitless. His hands were extended in differ- 
 ent directions ; and then at short intervals withdrawn, and 
 plunged into the capacious pockets of his pea-jacket. 
 
 After these gestures had been continued for about half an 
 hour, he was seen to " slew " himself round, and come 
 crawling back towards the sand-hills. 
 
 His return was effected more slowly than his departure ; 
 and it could be seen that he was heavily weighted. 
 
 On getting back into the gorge, he was at once relieved 
 of his load, which proved to consist of about three hundred 
 " cockles," — as he called the shell-fish he had collected, -^ 
 and which were found to be a species of mussel. 
 
 They were not only edible, but delicious, — at least they 
 seemed so to those who were called upon to swallow them. 
 
 This seasonable supply did a great deal towards allaying 
 the appetites of all ; and even Terence now declared himself 
 contented to remain concealed, until night should atford 
 them an opportunity of escape from the monotony of their 
 Bituation. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 KEEI'ING UNDER COVEU. 
 
 1T1R0M the spot, where the camel still lay couched xu hi? 
 '" entethermeut," the sea was not visible to one lying 
 along the ground. It was only by standing erect, and look 
 ing over a spur of the sand-ridge, that the beach could be 
 ueen, and the ocean beyond it. 
 
 There would be no danger, therefore, of their b<iir^ dis- 
 
!' |||lll.f^^^ 
 
 'If" 1'; 
 
 ;)iiii;vi!'i^ I 
 
 I, ',:'!!' 
 
 ^llBlill'! 
 
 '■■rlispffilii'' 
 
 taW' '^IllIKiiffv 'n:!''!!!' \iiiiii 
 
 I'!, 'f 
 
KEEPING UNDER COVER. 67 
 
 covered, by anj one coming along the strand — prov'/ded 
 they kept in a crouching attitude behind the ridge, v\ hicb, 
 sharply crested, like a snow-wreath, formed a sort of parapet 
 in front of them. They might have been easily seen from 
 the summit of any of the " dunes " to the rear ; but there 
 was not much likelihood of any one approaching them in 
 that direction. The country inward appeared to be a laby- 
 rinth of sand-hills — with no opening that would indicate a 
 passage for either man or beast. The camel, in all proba- 
 bility, had taken to the gorge — guided by its instincts — 
 there to seek shelter from the sand-storm. The fact of its 
 carrying a saddle showed that its owner must have been 
 upon the march, at the time it escaped from him. Had our 
 adventurers been better acquainted with Saaran customs, 
 they would have concluded that this had been the case : for 
 they would have known that, on the approach of a " shuma " 
 — the " forecasts " of which are well known — the Be 
 douins at once, and in all haste, break up their encamp- 
 ments ; and put themselves, and their whole personal 
 property, in motion. Otherwise, they would be in danger 
 of getting smoored under the settling saud-drift. 
 
 Following the counsels of the sailor — whose desert 
 knowledge appeared as extensive as if it, and not the sea, 
 had been his habitual home — our adventurers_ crouched 
 down m such a way as not to be seen by any one passing 
 along the beach. 
 
 Scarcely had they placed themselves in this humble atti- 
 tude, when Old Bill — who had been keeping watch all the 
 while, with only the upper half of his head elevated above 
 the combing of the sand-wreath — announced, by a low ex- 
 clamation, that something was in sight. 
 
 Two dark forms were seen coming along the shore, from 
 the southward ; but at so great a distance that it was impos- 
 Bible to tell what sort of creatures they might turn out, 
 
 " Let me have a look," proposed Colin. " By good luck, 
 a* 
 
58 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 I 've got my glass. It was in my pocket as we escaped 
 from the ship ; and I did n't think of throwing it away." 
 
 As the young Scotchman spoke, he took from tlie breast 
 of his dreadnought jacket, a small telescope, — which, when 
 drawn out to its full extent, exhibited a series of tubes, en 
 echelon, about half a yard in length. Directing it upon the 
 dark objects, — at the same time taking the precaution to 
 keep his own head as low down as possible, — he at once 
 proclaimed their character. 
 
 " They 're two bonny bodies," said he, " dressed in all the 
 colors of the rainbow. I can see bright shawls, and red 
 caps, and striped cloaks. One is mounted on a horse ; the 
 other bestrides a camel, — just such a one as this by our 
 side. They 're coming along slowly ; and appear to be star- 
 ing about them." 
 
 " Ah, that be hit," said Old Bill. " It be the howners of 
 this 'eer brute. They be on the sarch for her. Lucky the 
 drift-sand hae covered her tracks, — else they 'd come right 
 on to us. Lie low, Masther Colin. We may n't show our 
 heeds over the corabin' o' the sand. They 'd be sure to see 
 the size o' a saxpence. We maun keep awthegither cot o* 
 sicht." 
 
 One of the old sailor's peculiarities — or, perhaps, it 
 may have been an eccentricity — was, that in addressing 
 himself to His companions, he was almost sure to assume 
 the national patois of the individual spoken to. In any- 
 thing like a continued conversaticn with Harry Blount, 
 his " h's " wei'e handled in a most unfashionable manner ; 
 and while talking with Terence, the JMilosian came from 
 bis lips, in a brogue almost as pure as Tipperary could 
 produce. 
 
 In a tete-a-tete with Colin, the listener might have sworn 
 that Bill was more Scotch than the young Macpherson him* 
 eelf. 
 
 Colin perceived the jusitice of the sailor's suggestion ; and 
 
KEEPING UNDER COVER. 59 
 
 immediately ducked liis Lead below the level of tlie parapet 
 of sand. 
 
 This placed our adventurers in a position at once irksome 
 and uncertiiin. Curiosity, if nothing else, rendered them 
 desirous to watch the movements of tlie men who were ap 
 proaching. Without noting these, they would not be able 
 tjo tell when they might again I'aise their heads above the 
 ridge ; and might do so, just at the time when the horseman 
 iukI the rider of the maherry were either opposite or within 
 sight of them. 
 
 As the sailor had said, any dark object of the size of a 
 sixpence would be seen if presented above the smooth comb- 
 ing of snow-white sand ; and it was evident to all that for 
 one of them to look over it might lead to their being dis- 
 covered. 
 
 While discussing this point, they knew that some time 
 had elapsed ; and, although the eyes they dreaded migh* 
 stiU be distant, they could not help thinking, that they were 
 near enough to see them if only the hair of tlieir heads 
 should be shown above the sand. 
 
 . They reflected naturally. They knew that these sons of 
 the desert must be gifted with keen instincts ; or, at all events, 
 with an experience that would enable them to detect the 
 slightest " fault " in the aspect of a landscape, so well known 
 to them, — in short, that they would notice anything that 
 might appear " abnormal " in it. 
 
 From that time their situation was one of doubt and anx- 
 iety. They dared not give even as much as a glance over 
 the smooth, snow white sand. They could only crouch be- 
 hind it, in anxious expectation, knowing not when that du- 
 bious condition of things could be safely brought to a close. 
 
 Luckily they were relieved from it, and sooner than they 
 had expected. Colin it was who disco verec' a way to get 
 out of the difficulty. 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed he, as an ingenious conception sprang 
 
60 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 np in his mind. " I 've got an idea tbat '11 do. I '11 walcl 
 these fellows, without giving them a chance of seeing me. 
 That will I." 
 
 " How ? " asked the others. 
 
 Colin made no verbal reply ; but instead, he was seen tc 
 insert his telescope into the sand-parapet, in such a way that 
 its tube passed clear through to the other side, and of course 
 commanded a view of the beach, along which the two forms 
 were advancing. 
 
 As soon as he had done so, he placed his eye to the glass, 
 and, in a cautious whisper, announced that both the horse- 
 man and camel-rider were within his " field of view " 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE TRAIL ON THE SAND. 
 
 THE tube of the telescope, firmly imbedded in the sand, 
 kept its place without the necessity of being held in 
 hand. It only required to be slightly shifted as the horse- 
 man and camel-rider changed place, — so as to keep them 
 within its field of view. 
 
 By this means our adventurers were able to mark their 
 approach and note every movement they made, without 
 much risk of being seen themselves. Each of them took 
 a peep through the glass to satisfy their cuiiosity, and then 
 the instrument was wholly intrusted to its owner, who waa 
 ihenceforth constantly to keep his eye to it, and observe the 
 movements of the strangers. This the young Scotchman 
 did, at intervals communicating with his companions in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " I can vQake out their faces." muttered he, after a time 
 
THE TRAIL ON THE SAND. 61 
 
 * and ugly enough are they. One is yellow, the other black, 
 He must be a negro, — of course he is, — he 's got woolly 
 hair too. It's he that rides the camel, — just such another 
 as this that stumbled over us. The yellow man upon th3 
 horse has a pointed beard upon his chin. He has a sharp 
 look, like those Moors we've seen at Tetuan. He's an 
 Arab, I suppose. He appears to be the master of the black 
 man. I can see him make gestures, as if he was directmg 
 him to do something. There ! they have stopped, — they 
 are looking this way ! " 
 
 " Marcy on us ! " muttered old Bill, " if they have speered 
 the glass ! " 
 
 "Troth! that's hke enough," said Terence. ''It'll bo 
 flasliing in the sun outside the sand. That sharp-eyed Arab 
 is almost sure to see it." 
 
 " Had you not better draw it in ? " suggested Harry 
 Blount. 
 
 " True," answered Colm. " But I fear it would be too 
 late now. If that 's what halted them, it 's all over with us, 
 BO far as hiding goes." 
 
 " Shp it in, any how. If they don't see it any more, they 
 may n't come quite up to the ridge." 
 
 Colin was about to follow the advice thus offered, when 
 on taking what he intended to be a last squint through the 
 telescope, he perceived that the travellers were moving on 
 up the beach, as if they had seen nothing that called upon 
 theni to deviate from their course. 
 
 Fortunately for the four " stowaways," it was not the 
 sparkle of the lens that had caused them to make that stop. 
 A ravine, or opening through the sand-ridges, much larger 
 than that in which our adventurei's were concealed, emboucheea 
 upon the beach, some distance below. It was the appear- 
 ance of this opening that had attracted the attention of the 
 two mounted men ; and from their gestures Colin could tell 
 they were talking about it, as if undecided whether tc go 
 that way or keep on up the strand. 
 
62 TEE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 It ended by the yellow man putting jpurs to hia horsey 
 and galloping off up the ravine, followed by the black man 
 on the camel. 
 
 From the way in which both behaved, — keeping their 
 eyes generally bent upon the ground, but at intervals gazing 
 about over the country, — it was evident they were in search 
 of something, and this would be the she-camel that lay teth- 
 ered in the bottom of the sand-gorge, close to the spot occu- 
 pied by our adventurers. 
 
 " They 've gone off on the wrong track," said Colin, tak- 
 ing his eye from the glass as soon as the switch tail of the 
 maherry disappeared behind the slope of a sand-dune. " So 
 much the better for us. My heart was at my mouth just a 
 minute ago. I was sure it was all over with us." 
 
 " You think they have n't seen the shine of the lens ? " in- 
 terrogated Harry. 
 
 " Of course not ; or else they 'd have come on to examine 
 it. Instead, they 've left the beach altogether. They 've 
 gone inland, among the hills. They 're no longer in sight." 
 
 " Good ! " ejaculated Terence, raising his head over the 
 ridge, as did also the others. 
 
 " Och ! good yez may well say, Masther Terence. Jist 
 look fwhot fools we 've been all four av us ! We never 
 thought av the thracks, nayther wan nor other av us ! " 
 
 As Bill spoke, he pointed down towards the beach, in the 
 direction in which he had made his late crawling excursion. 
 There, distinctly traceable in the half-wet sand, were the 
 marks he had made both going and returning, as if a huge 
 tortoise or crocodile had been dragging itself over the 
 ground. 
 
 The truth of his words w:is ajpparent to all. It was chance 
 and not their cunning that had saved them from discovery. 
 Plad the owner of tlie camel but continued another hundred 
 yards along the beach, he could not have failed to see the 
 double " trail " made by the sailor, and of course would hav« 
 
THE "DESERT SHIP." 69 
 
 followed it to the spot where they were hidden. As it way, 
 the two mounted men had not come near enough to ^ote the 
 sign made by the old salt in his laborious floun Jerings ; and 
 perhaps fancying they had followed the strand fiir enough, 
 they had struck off into the interior, — through the opening 
 of the sand-bills, in the belief that the she-camel might have 
 done the same. 
 
 Whatever may have been their reason, they were now 
 gone out of sight, and the long stretch of desert shore waa 
 once more under the eyes of our adventurers, unrelieved by 
 the appearance of anything that might be called a living 
 creature. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE "desert ship." 
 
 THOUGH- there was now nothing within sight between 
 them, they did not think it prudent to move out of the 
 gorge, nor even to raise their heads above the level of the 
 sand-wreath. They did so only at intervals, to assure them- 
 selves that the " coast was clear " ; and satisfied on this 
 score, they would lower their heads again, and remain in thia 
 attitude of concealment. 
 
 One with but slight knowledge of the circumstances — oi 
 with the country in which they were — might consider them 
 over-cautious in acting thus, and might fancy that in their 
 forlorn, shipwrecked condition they should have been but 
 too glad to meet men. 
 
 On the contrary, a creature of their own shape was the 
 last thing they desired either to see or encounter ; and fbr 
 the reasons already given in their conversation, they could 
 meet no men there who would not be their enemies, — 
 
64 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 worse than that, Kiclr tyrants, perliaps their torturers. 0\J 
 Bill was sure of this from what he had heard. So were 
 Colin and Harry from what they had read. Terence alone 
 was incredulous as to the cruelty of which the sailor had 
 given such a graphic picture. 
 
 Terence, however rash he was by nature, allowed him- 
 self to be overruled by his more prudent companions ; and 
 therefore, up to the hour when the twilight began to em- 
 purple the sea, no movement towards stLi-ring from their 
 place of concealment was made by any of the party. 
 
 The patient camel shared their eilent retreat; though 
 they had taken precautions against its straying from them, 
 had it felt so inclined, by tying its shanks securely together. 
 Towards evening the animal Avas again milked, in the same 
 fashion as in the morning ; and, reinvigorated by its bounti- 
 ful yield, our adventurers prepared to depart from a spot, 
 of which, notwithstanding the friendly concealment it had 
 afforded them, they were all heartily tired. 
 
 Their preparations were easily made, and occupied scarce 
 ten seconds of time. It was only to untether the camel and 
 take to the road, or, as Harry jocosely termed it, " unmoor 
 the desert ship and begin thc'r voyage." 
 
 Just as the last gleam of daylight forsook the white cresta 
 of the sand-hills, and went flickering afar over the blue 
 waters of the ocean, they stole forth from their hiding-place, 
 and started upon a journey of which they knew neither the 
 length nor the ending. 
 
 Even of the direction of that undetermined journey they 
 liad but a vague conception. They believed that the coast 
 trended northward and southward, and that one of these 
 points was the proper one to head for. It was almost 
 " heads or tails " which of them they should take ; and had 
 they been better acquainted with their true situation, it 
 might as well have been determined by a toss-up, for any 
 chance they had of ever arriving at a civilized sf^ttleracDt 
 
THE "DESERT SHIP," 65 
 
 But they knew not tliat. They had a belief — the old 
 Bailor strongex" than the rest — tiiat there were Portuguese 
 forts along the coast, chiefly to the southward, and tliat by 
 keeping along shore they might reach one of these. There 
 wtire such establishments it is true — still are ; and though 
 at that time there were some nearer to the point where their 
 ship had been wrecked, none were near enough to be reached 
 by the starving castaway, however perseveringly he might 
 travel towards them. 
 
 Ignorant of the impracticability of their attempt, our ad 
 venturers entered upon it with a spirit worthy of success, — 
 worthy of the country from which they had come. 
 
 For some time the maherry was led in hand, old Bill 
 being its conductor. All four had been well rested during 
 the day, and none of them cared to ride. 
 
 As the tide, however, was now beginning to creep up 
 into the sundry inlets, to avoid walking in water, they were 
 compelled to keep well high up on the beach ; and this 
 forced them to make their way through the soft yielding 
 sand, a course that required considerable exertion. 
 
 One after another now began to feel fatigue, and talk 
 about it as well ; and then the proposal was made, that the 
 maherry — who stepped over the unsure surface with as 
 much apparent lightness as a cat would have done — should 
 be made to carry at least one of the party. They could 
 ride in turns, which would give eacli of them an opportunity 
 of resting. 
 
 No sooner was the proposition made than it was carried 
 into execution. Terence, who had been the one to advance 
 it, being hoisted in the hump of the camel. 
 
 But though the young O'Connor had been accustomed to 
 the saddle from childhood, and had ridden "across country" 
 on many an occasion, it was not long before he became 
 satisfied with the saddle of a maherry. The rocking, and 
 joking, and " pitching," as our adventurers termed it, ^-om 
 
56 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 larboard to starboard, fore and aft, and alow and aloft, soon 
 caused Terence to sing out " enough " ; and he descended 
 into the soft sand with a much greater desire for walking 
 than the moment before he had had for riding. 
 
 Harry Blount took his place, but although the young Eng- 
 lishman had been equally accustomed to a hunting-saddle, 
 he found that his experience went but a little way towards 
 making him easy on the hump of a maherry ; and lie was 
 soon in the mood for dismounting. 
 
 The son of Scotia next climbed upon the back of the 
 camel. Whether it was that natural pride of prowess which 
 ofl impels his countrymen to perseverance and daring deeds, 
 — whether it was that, or whether it arose from a sterner 
 power of endurance, — certain it is that Colin kept his seat 
 longer than either of his predecessors. 
 
 But even Scot(;h sinews could not hold out against such a 
 tension, — such a bursting and wrenching and tossing, — and 
 it ended by Colin declaring that upon the whole he would 
 prefer making the journey upon " Shank's mare." 
 
 Saying this he slid down from the shoulders of the un- 
 gaudy animal, resigning the creature once more to the con- 
 duct of Old Bill, who had still kept hold of the halter. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 nOMEWAUD BOUND. 
 
 ri^HE experience of his young companinns might have 
 1 deterred the sailor from imitating their example ; 
 more especially as Bill, according to his own statement, had 
 never been " abroad " a saddle in his life. But they did 
 not; and for special reasons. Awkward as the old sail 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 67 
 
 might feel in a saddle, he felt not less awkward nfooU 
 That is ashore, — on terra firma. 
 
 Place him on the deck of a ship, or in th(! rigging of one, 
 and no man in all England's navy could have been mora 
 secure as to his footing, or more difficult to dit^possess of it ; 
 but set sailor Bill upon shore, and expect him to go ahead 
 upon it, you would be disappointed : you might as well ex- 
 pect a fish to make progress on land ; and you would witness 
 a species of locomotion more resembling that of a manatee 
 or a seal, than of a human biped. As the old man-o'-war's- 
 man had now being floundering full five weeks through the 
 soft shore-sand, he was thoroughly convinced that a mode 
 of progression must be preferable to that ; and as soon as 
 the young Scotchman descended from his seat, he climbed 
 into it. 
 
 He had not much climbing to do, — for the well-trained 
 maherry, when any one wished to mount him, at once 
 knelt down, — making the ascent to his " summits " as easy 
 as possible. 
 
 Just as the sailor had got firmly into the saddle, the moon 
 shone out with a brilliance that almost rivalled the light of 
 day. In the midst of that desert landscape, against the 
 ground of snow-white sand, the figures of both camel and 
 rider were piquantly conspicuous ; and although the one was 
 figuratively a ship, and the other really a sailor, their juxta- 
 position offered a contrast of the queerest kind. So ludi- 
 crous did it seem, that the three " mids," disregarding all 
 ideas of danger, broke forth with one accord into a strain of 
 loud and continuous laughter. 
 
 They had all seen camels, or pictures of these animals ; 
 but never before either a camel, or the picture of one, with 
 a sailor upon his hack. The very idea of a dromedary cai- 
 ries along with it the cognate spectacle of an Arab on its 
 V)a(.'k, — a slim, sinewy individual of swarth complexion auc* 
 picturesque garb, a bright burnouse steaming aiou'\d hia 
 
68 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 body, with a twisted turban on his head. But a tall camel, 
 Burmounted by a sailor in dreadnought jacket and sou'« 
 wester, was a picture to make a Solon laugh, let alone a tier 
 of midshij men ; and it drew from the latter such a cachin- 
 nation as caused the shores of the Saiira to echo with sounds 
 of joy, perhaps never heard there before. Old Bill was not 
 an'i-ry, he was only gratified to see these young gentlemen 
 in such good spirits ; and calling upon them to keep close 
 after him, he gave the halter to his maherry and started off 
 over the sand. 
 
 For some time his companions kept pace with him, doing 
 their best ; but it soon became apparent, even to the sailor 
 himself, that unless something was done to restrain the im- 
 petuosity of the camel, he must soon be separated from those 
 following afoot. 
 
 Tliis something its rider felt himself incapable of accom- 
 plishing. It is true he still held the halter in his hand, but 
 this gave him but slight control over the camel. It was 
 not a mameluke bitt — not even a snaffle — and for direct- 
 ing the movements of the animal the old sailor felt himself 
 as helpless as if standing by the wheel of a seventy-four 
 that had unshipped her rudder. Just like a ship in such a 
 situation did the maherry behave. Surging through the 
 ocean of soft sand, now mounting the spurs that trended 
 down to the beach, now descending headlong into deep 
 gullies, like troughs between the ocean waves, and gliding 
 silently, gently forward as a shallop upon a smooth sea. 
 Such was the course that the sailor was pursuing. Very 
 different; however, were his reflections to those he would 
 have indulged in on board a man-o'-war ; and if any man 
 ever sneered at that simile which likens a camel to a ship, it 
 was Sailor Bill upon that occasion. 
 
 "Avast there!"' cried he, as soon as the maherry had 
 fairly commenced moving. " Shiver my old timbers ! what 
 ■io vez mean, you brute ? Belay there ! belay ! 'Ang it, I 
 
THE DANCE INTERRUPTED. 69 
 
 must pipe all 'ands, an' take in sail. Where the deevil are 
 ye steerin' tc ? Be jabers, yez may laugh, yc ung gentlemen, 
 but thi3 ain't a fair weather craft, I tell yez. Thunder an' 
 ouns ! it be as much as I can do to keep her to her course. 
 lIuUoo ! she 's off afore the wind ! " 
 
 As the rider of the maherry gave out this declara,tion, 
 the animal was seen suddenly to increase its speed, not only 
 in a progressive ratio, but at once to double quick, as if inn 
 pelled by some powerful motive. 
 
 At the same time it was heard to utter a strange cry, 
 half scream, half snort, which could not have been caused 
 by any action on the part of its rider. 
 
 It was already over a hundred yards in advance of those 
 folloAving on foot ; but after giving out that startling cry, 
 the distance became quickly increased, and in a few seconds 
 of time the three astonished " mids " saw only the shadow 
 of a maherry, with a sailor upon its back, first dissolving 
 into dim outline until it finally disappeared behind the sand 
 dunes that abutted upon the beach. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE DANCE rNTERRUPTED. 
 
 LEAVING the midshipmen to their mirth, which, liow- 
 ever, was not of very long dui'ation, we must follow 
 Sailor Bill and the runaway camel. 
 
 In reality the maherry had made off with him, though fcr 
 what reason the sailor could not divine. He only knew thai 
 it was going at the rate of nine or ten knots an hour, and 
 going its own way ; for instead of keeping to the hne cf the 
 coast, — the direction he would have wished it to take, — il 
 
70 THE BOY SLAV-ES. 
 
 had suddenly turned tail upon the sea, and headed towaids 
 the mterior of the country. 
 
 Its rider had already discovered that he liad not the 
 slightest control over it. He had tugged upon the hair 
 halter and shouted " Avast ! " until both his arms and tongue 
 were tired. All to no purpose. The camel scorned hia 
 commands, lent a deaf ear to his entreaties, and paid not the 
 slightest heed to his attempt to pull up, except to push on 
 in the opposite direction, with its snout elevated in the air 
 and its long ungainly neck stretched forward in the most 
 determined and provoking fashion. 
 
 There was not much force in the muscular efforts made to 
 check it. It was just as much as its rider could do to bal- 
 ance himself on its hump, which, of course, he had to do 
 Arab-fashion, sitting upon the saddle as on a chair, with his 
 feet resting upon the back of the animal's neck. It was 
 this position that rendered liis seat so insecure, but no other 
 could have been adopted in the saddle of a maherry, and the 
 sailor was compelled to keep it as well as he could. 
 
 At the time the animal first started off, it had not gone at 
 so rapid a pace but that he might have slipped down upon 
 the soft sand without much danger of being injured. Tliis 
 for an instant he had thought of doing ; but knowing that 
 ■while " unhorsing " himself the camel might escape, he had 
 voluntarily remained on its back, in the hope of being able 
 to pull the animal up. 
 
 On becoming jiersuadcd that this would be impossible, 
 and tliat the maherry had actually made off with hira, it 
 was too late to dismount without danger. The camel was 
 now shambling along so swiftly that he could not slip down 
 without submitting bimself to a fall. It would be no longer 
 a tumble upon soft sand, for the runaway had suddenly 
 swerved into a deep gorge, the bottom of which was thickly 
 strewed with boulders of rock, and through these the 
 maherr}' was making way with the speed of a fast-trotting 
 horse. 
 
THE DANCE INTERRUPTED. 71 
 
 Had il8 rider attempted to abandon his high perch xipon 
 the hump, his chances would have been good for getting 
 dashed against one of the big boulders, or trodden under the 
 huge hoofs of the maherry itself. 
 
 Fully alive to this danger, Old Bill no more thought of 
 throwing himself to the ground ; but on the contrary, held 
 on to the hump with all the tenacity that lay in his well- 
 taired digits. 
 
 He had continued to shout for some time after parting 
 with his companions ; but as this availed nothing, he at length 
 desisted, and was now riding the rest of his race in silence- 
 When was it to terminate ? Whither was the camel oon- 
 ducting him ? These were the questions that now came be- 
 fore his mind. 
 
 He thought of an answer, and it filled him with appre- 
 hension. The animal was evidently in eager haste. It was 
 snuffing the wind in its progress forward ; something ahead 
 seemed to be attracting it. What could this something be 
 but its home, the tent from which it had strayed, the dwell- 
 ing of its owner ? And who could that owner be but one 
 of those cruel denizens of the desert they had been takmg 
 such pains to avoid ? 
 
 The sailor was allowed but Httle time for conjectures ; for 
 almost on the instant of his shaping this, the very first one, 
 the maherry shot suddenly round the hip of a hill, bringing 
 him in full view of a spectacle that realized it. 
 
 A small valley, or stretch of level ground enclosed by 
 surrounding ridges, lay before him ; its gray, sandy surface 
 interspersed by a few patches of darker color, which the 
 moon, shining brightly from a blue sky, disclosed to be tufts 
 of tussock-grass and mimosa bushes. 
 
 These, however, did not occupy the attention of the invol- 
 untary visitor to that secluded spot ; but something else that 
 appeared in their midst, — something that proclaimed tha 
 presence of human beings. 
 
72 THE BOY SLAVnS. 
 
 Near the centre of the little valley half a dozen dark ob" 
 jects stood up several feet above the level of the ground 
 Then- size, shape, and color proclaimed their cluiracter. 
 Tliey were tents, — the tents of a Bedouin encampment. 
 The old man-o'-war's-raan had never seen such before ; but 
 there was no mistaking them for anything else, — even 
 going as he was at a speed that prevented him from having 
 a very clear view of them. 
 
 In a few seconds, however, he was near enough to dis- 
 tinguish something more than the tents. They stood in a 
 sort of circle of about twenty yards in diametei', and within 
 this could be seen the forms of men, women, and children. 
 Around were animals of different sorts, — horses, camels, 
 sheep, goats, and dogs, grouped according to their kind, with 
 the exception of the dog-=, which appeared to be straying 
 everywhere. This varied tableau was distinctly visible un- 
 der the light of a full, mellow moon. 
 
 There were voices, — shouting and singing. There was 
 music, made upon some rude instrument. The human 
 forms, — both of men and women, — were in motion, cir- 
 cling and springing about. The sailor saw they were danc- 
 ing. 
 
 He heard, and saw, all this in a score of seconds, as the 
 maherry hurried him forward into tlieir midst. The en- 
 campment was close to the bottom of the hill round which 
 the camel had carried him. He had at length made up his 
 mind to dismount coute que coute ; but there was no time. 
 Before he could make a movement to ^mg himself from the 
 shoulders ot the animal, he saw that he was discovered. A 
 cry coming from the tents admonished him of this fact. It 
 was too late to attempt a retreat, and, in a state of despond- 
 ing stupor, he stuck to the saddle. Not much longer. The 
 camel, with a snorting scream, responding to the call of its 
 fellows, rushed on into the encampment, — right into the 
 very circle of the dancers ; and there amidst the shouts of 
 
A SERIO-COMICAL RECEPTION. 7b 
 
 men, the screeches of women, the yelling of children, the 
 neighing of horses, the bleaUng of sheep and goats, and 
 the barking of a score or two of cur dogs, — the animal 
 stopped, with such abrupt suddenness that its rider, after 
 performing a somersault through the air, came down on 
 all -fours, in front of its projecting snout ! 
 
 In such fashion was Sailor Bill introduced to the Arab 
 encampment. 
 
 CHAP TEH XXI. 
 
 A SERIO-CO.MICAL RECEPTION. 
 
 iT need scarce be said that the advent of the stranger 
 produced some surprise amo.ig the Terpsichorean crowd, 
 into the midst of which he had been so unceremoniously pro- 
 jected. And yet this surprise was not such as might have 
 been expected. One might suppose that an English man-o'- 
 war's-man in pilot-cloth, pea-jacket, glazed hat, and wide duck 
 trousers, would have been a singular sight to the eyes of the 
 dark-skinned individuals who now encircled them — dressed 
 as all of them were in gay colored floating shawl-robes, 
 slipped or sandalled feet, and with fez caps or turbans on 
 their heads. 
 
 Not a bit of a singular sight : neither the color of his skin, 
 /.or his sailor-costume, had caused surprise to those who sur- 
 rounded him. Both were matters witli which they were 
 well acquainted — alas ! too well. 
 
 The astonishment they had exhibited arose simply from 
 the sansfagons manner of his coming amongst them ; and or 
 the in taut after it disappi;ared, giving place to a feeling of 
 a diiferent kind. 
 
 4 
 
74 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Succeeding to the shouts of surprise, arose a simuUaneout 
 peal of laughter from men, women, and children ; in which 
 oven the animals seemed to join — more especially the ma-^ 
 herry, who stood with its uncouth head craned over its dis- 
 mounted rider, and looking uncontrollably comic ! 
 
 In the midst of this universal exclamation the sailor rose 
 to his feet. He might have been disconcerted by the recep- 
 tion, had his senses been clear enough to comprehend what 
 was passing. But they were not. The effects of that fear- 
 ful somersault had confused him ; and he had only risen to 
 an erect attitude, under a vague instinct or desire to escape 
 from that company. 
 
 After staggering some paces over the ground, his thoughts 
 returned to him ; and he more dearly comprehended his 
 situation. Escape was out of the question. He was prisoner 
 io a party of wandering Bedouins, — the worst to be found 
 in all the wide expanse of the Saiiran desert, — the wreck- 
 ers of the Atlantic coast. 
 
 The sailor might have felt surprised at seeing a collection 
 of familiar objects into the midst of which he had wandered. 
 By the doorway of a tent, — one of the largest upon the 
 ground, — there was a pile o^ porapheriuib'a, evury avtlde 
 of which was tropical, not of the Saara, but the sea. There 
 were " belongings " of the cabin and caboose, — the 'tween 
 decks, and the forecastle, — all equally proclaiming them- 
 selves the debris of a castaway shii). 
 
 The sailor could have no conjectures as to the vessel to 
 which they had belonged. He knew the articles by sight, — 
 one and all of them. They were the spoils of the corvette, 
 that had been washed ashore, and fallen into the hands of 
 the wreckers. 
 
 Amotig them Old Bill saw some things that had apper- 
 tained to himself. 
 
 On the opposite side of the enc^impment, by another large 
 fpat, v» IS a second pile of ship's equipments, like the first 
 
A SRRIO-COMICAL RECEPTION 75 
 
 guarded by a sentinel who squatted beside it : the sailor 
 iooked aromd in expectation to see some of the corvette's 
 crew. Some might have escaped like himself and liis three 
 companions by reaching the shore on cask, hoop, or spar. 
 If so, they had not fallen into the hands of the wreckers; 
 or if they had, they were not in the camp — unless, indeed, 
 they might be inside some of the tents. This was not likely. 
 Most probably they had all been drowned, or had succumbed 
 to a worse fate than drowning — death at the hands of the 
 cruel coast robbers, who now surrounded the survivor. 
 
 The circumstances under which the old sailor made these 
 reflections were such as to render the last hypothesis suffi- 
 ciently probable. He was being pushed about and dragged 
 over the ground by two men, armed with long curved scim- 
 itars, contesting some point with one another, apparently as 
 to which should be first to cut off his head ! 
 
 Both of these men appeared to be chiefs ; " sheiks " as 
 the sailor heard them called by their followers, a party 
 of whom — also with arms in their hands — stood behind 
 each " sheik " — all seemingly alike eager to perform the 
 act of decapitation. 
 
 So near seemed the old sailor's head to being cut off, that 
 for some seconds he was not quite sure whether it still re- 
 mained upon his shoulders! He could not understand a 
 word that passed between the contending parties, though 
 there was talk enough to have satisfied a sitting of parlia- 
 ment, and probably with about the same quantity of sense 
 in it. 
 
 Before he had proceeded ftir, the sailor began to compre- 
 hend, — not from the speeches made, but the gestures tl.at 
 accompanied them, — that it was not the design of eitlier 
 party to cut off his head. The drawn scimitars, sweeping 
 through the air, were not aimed at his neck, but rather in 
 mmual menace of one another. 
 
 Old Bill could see that there was some quarrel bctwoea 
 
75 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 the two sheiks, of which he was himself the cause ; that thf 
 camp was not a unity consisting of a single chief, his family, 
 and ibilowing; but that there were too separate leaders, each 
 with his adherents, perhaps temporarily associated together 
 for purposes of plundei'. 
 
 That they had collected the wreck of the corvette, and 
 divided the spoils between them, was evident from the two 
 heaps being kept carefully apart, each piled up near the tent 
 of a chief. 
 
 The old man-o'-war's-man made his observations in the 
 midst of great difficulties : for while noting these particu- 
 lars, he was pulled about the place, first by one sheik, then 
 by the other, each retaining his disputed person in tempo- 
 rary possession. 
 
 From the manner in which they acted, he could tell that 
 it was his person that was the subject of dispute, and that 
 both wanted to be the proprietor of it. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE TWO SUEIKS. 
 
 rilHERE was a remarkable difference between the two 
 i men thus claiming ownersliip in the body of Old Bill. 
 One was a little wizen-faced individual, whose yellow com- 
 plexion and sharp, angular features proclaimed him of the 
 Arab stock, while his competitor showed a skin of almost 
 ebon blackness — a frame of herculean development — a 
 broad lace, with flat nose and thick lubberly lips — a nead 
 of enormous circumference, surmounted by a mop of woolly 
 hair, standing erect several inches above his occiput. 
 
 Had tlie sailor been addicted to ethnological spcculatious, 
 
THE TWO SHEIKS. 77 
 
 he might have derived an interesting lesson from ihat coii* 
 test, of which he was tlie cause. It miglit have helped him 
 to a knowledge of the geography of the country in which 
 he had been cast, for he was now upon that neutral lerri* 
 tory where the true Ethiopian — the son of Ham — occar- 
 sionally contests possession, both of the soil and the slave, 
 with the wandering cliildreu of Japhet. 
 
 The two men who were thus quarrelling about the pos- 
 session of the English tar, though both of African origin, 
 could scarce have been more unlike had their native coun- 
 try been the antipodes of each other. 
 
 Their object was not so different, though even in thig 
 there was a certain dissimilation. Both designed making 
 the shipwrecked sailor a slave. But the sheik of Arab as- 
 pects wished to possess him, with a view to his ultimate 
 ransom. He knew that by carrying him northwards there 
 would be a chance to dispose of him at a good price, either 
 to the Jew merchants at Wedinoin, or the European con- 
 suls at Mogadon It would not be the first Saarian casta- 
 way he had in this manner restored to his friends and his 
 country — not from any motives of humanity, but simply 
 for the profit it produced. 
 
 On the other hand, the black competitor had a different, 
 though somewhat similar, purpose in view. His tlioughts 
 extended towards the south. There lay the emporium of 
 his commerce, — the great mud-built town of Timbuctoo. 
 Little as a white man was esteemed among the Arab mer- 
 chants when considered as a mere slave, the sable sheik 
 knew that in the south of the Saiira he would command a 
 price, if only as a curiosity to figure among the followers of 
 the sultan of some grand interior city. For this reason, 
 therefore, was the black determined upon the possession of 
 Bill, and showed as much eagerness to become his owner aa 
 ijd his tawny competitor. 
 
 After several minutes spent in words and gestures of mi* 
 
78 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 tual 4 lenace, wliich, from the wild shouts and flourishing ol 
 scimitars, seemed as if it could only end in a general lop« 
 ping off of heads, somewhat to tlie astonishment of the 
 sailor, tranquillity became restored without any one receiv- 
 ing scratch or cut. 
 
 The scimitars were returned to their scabbards; and 
 although the affair did not appear to be decided, the contest 
 was now carried on in a more pacific fashion by words. A 
 long argument ensued, in which both sheiks displayed their 
 oratorial powers. Though the sailor could not understand 
 a word of what was said, he could tell that the little Arab 
 was urging his ownership, on the plea that the camel which 
 had carried the captive into the encampment was his prop- 
 erty, and on this account was he entitled to the " waif." 
 
 The black seemed altogether to dissent from this doctrine; 
 on liis side pointing to the two heaps of plunder ; as much as 
 to say that his share of the spoils — already obtained — was 
 the smaller one. 
 
 At this crisis a third party stepped betM'een the two dis- 
 putants — a young fellow, who appeared to have some 
 authority with both. His behavior told Bill that he was act- 
 ing as mediator. Whatever was the proposal made by him, 
 it appeared to satisfy both parties, as both at once desisted 
 from their wordy warfiire — at the same time that they 
 seemed preparing to settle the dispute in some other way. 
 
 The mode was soon made apparent. A spot of smooth, 
 even sand was selected by the side of the encampment, to 
 which the t vo sheiks, followed by their respective parties, 
 repaired. 
 
 A square figure was traced out, inside of which several 
 rows of little round holes were scooped in the sand, and then 
 the rival sheiks sat down, one on each side of the figure. 
 Each had already provided himself with a number of pellets 
 of camels' dung, which were now placed in the holes, and 
 the play of " helga" was now commenced. 
 
TETE TWO SHIEKS. 79 
 
 Whoever ■won the game was to become possessed of the 
 single stake, wliich was neither more nor less than Sailor 
 Bill. 
 
 The game proceeded by the shifting of the dung pelleta 
 in a particular fashion, from hole to hole, somewhat similar 
 to the moving of draughts upon the squares of a checker- 
 board. 
 
 During the play not a word was spoken by either party, 
 the two sheiks squatting opposite each other, and making 
 their moves with as much gravity as a pair of chess-players 
 engaged in some grand tournament of this intellectual 
 game. 
 
 It was only when the affair ended, that the noise broke 
 forth again, which it did in loud, triumphant shouts from 
 the conquering party, with expressions of chagi-in on the 
 side of the conquered. 
 
 By interpreting these shouts. Bill could tell that he had 
 fallen to the black ; and this was soon after placed beyond 
 doubt by the latter coming up and taking possession of him. 
 
 It appeared, however, that there had been certain sub- 
 siding conditions to the play, and that the sailor had been 
 in some way or another staked against his oion clothes ; for 
 before being fully appropriated by his owner he was stripped 
 to his shirt, and his habiliments, shoes and sou'-wester in- 
 cluded, were handed over to the sheik who had played 
 Becond-best in the game of " helga." 
 
 In this forlorn condition was the old sailor conducted to 
 the tent of his sable master, and placed like an additional 
 piece upon the pile of plunder already apportioned I 
 
80 , THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SAILOR BILL BESUKEWED. 
 
 SAILOR BILL said not a word. He had no voice in 
 the disposal ol' the stakes, — which were himself and 
 his " toggery," — and, knowing this, he remained silent. 
 
 He was not allowed to remain undisturbed. During the 
 progress of the game, he had become the cynosure of a large 
 circle of eyes, — belonging to the women and children of 
 the united tribes. 
 
 He might have looked for some compassion, — at least, 
 from the female portion of those who formed his entourage. 
 Half famished with hunger, — a fact which he did not fail 
 to communicate by signs, — he might liave expected them 
 to relieve his wants. The circumstance of Ids mailing them 
 known might argue, tliat he did expect some sort of kind 
 treatment. 
 
 It was not much, however. His hopes were but slight, 
 and sprang rather from a knowledge of his own necessities, 
 and of what the women ought to liave done, than wliat they 
 were likely to do. Old Bill had heiu-d too much of the 
 character of these hags of the Saiira, — and their mode of 
 5onducting themselves towards any unfortunate castaway 
 who might be drifted among tliem, — to expect any great 
 hospitality at their hands. 
 
 His hopes, therefore, were moderate ; but, for all that, 
 they were doomed to disappointment. 
 
 Perhaps in no other [)art of the world is the " milk of hu- 
 man kindness " so completely wanting in the female breast, 
 as among the women of the wandering Arabs of Airica. 
 Slaves to their imperious lords, — even when enjoying the 
 eacred title of wife, — they are themselves treated worse 
 *han the arimals which they have to manage and tend,-— 
 
SAILOR BILL BESHREWED. 81 
 
 even worso at times than their own bond-slaves, with whom 
 they mingle almost on an equality. As in all like cases, this 
 harsh usage, instead of producing sympathy for others who 
 suffer, has the very opposite tendency; as if they found 
 Bome alleviation of their cruel lot in imitating the brutality 
 of their oppressors. 
 
 Instead of receiving kindness, the old sailor becAme the 
 recipient of insults, not only from their tongues, — which he 
 could not understand, — but by acts and gestures which were 
 perfectly comprehensible to him. 
 
 While his ears were dinned by virulent speeches, — which, 
 could he have comprehended them, would have told him how 
 much he was despised for being an infidel, and not a follow- 
 er of the true prophet, — while his eyes were well-nigh put 
 out by dust thrown in his face, — accompanied by spiteful 
 expectorations, — his body was belabored by sticks, his skin 
 scratched and pricked with sharp thorns, his whiskers lugged 
 almost to the dislocation of his jaws, and the hair of his 
 head uprooted in fistfuls from his pericranium. 
 
 All this, too, amid screams and fiendish laughter, that re- 
 sembled an orgie of furies. 
 
 These women — she-devils they better deserved to be 
 called — were simply following out the teachings of their 
 inhuman faith, — among religions, even that of Rome not 
 excepted, tlie most inhuman that has ever cursed mankind. 
 Had old Bill been a believer in their " Prophet," that false 
 seer of the blood-stained sword, their treatment of him 
 ■would have been directly the reverse. Instead of kicks and 
 cufis, bustlings and scratchings, he would have been made 
 welcome to a share in such hospitality as they could have 
 bestowed upon him. It was religion, not nature, made them 
 act as they did. Their hardness of heart came not from 
 God, but the Prophet. They were only carrying out the 
 edicts of their " priests of a bloody faith." 
 
 In vain did the old man-o'-war's-man cry out " belaj * 
 4* T 
 
82 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 and '' dvast." In v^ain did he " shiver his timbers," and ap- 
 peal against their scurvy treatment, by looks, words, and 
 gesture. 
 
 These seemed only to augment the mirth and spitefuluesa 
 of his tormentors. 
 
 In this scene of cruelty there was one woman conspicuous 
 among the rest. By her companions she was called Fatima. 
 The old sailor, ignorant of Arabic feminine names, thought 
 " it a misnomer," for of all his she-persecutors she was the 
 leanest and sci-aggiest. Notwithstanding the poetical no- 
 tions which the readers of Oriental romance might associate 
 with her name, there was not much poetry about the per- 
 sonage who so assiduously assaulted Sailor Bill, — pulling 
 his whiskers, slapping his cheeks, and every now and then 
 spitting in liis face ! 
 
 She was something more than middle-aged, short, squat, 
 and meagre; with the eye-teeth projecting on both sides,- so 
 as to hold up the upper lip, and exhibit all the others in 
 their ivory whiteness, with an expression resembling that of 
 the hyena. This is considered beauty, — a fashion in full 
 vogue among her countrywomen, who cultivate it \n\X\ great 
 care, — though to the eyes of the old sailor it rendered the 
 hag all the more hideous. 
 
 But the skinning of eye-teeth was not the only attempt 
 at ornament made by this belle of the Desert. Strings 
 of black beads hung over her wrinkled bosom ; circlets of 
 white bone were set in her hair ; armlets and bangles 
 adorned her wrists and ankles, and altogether did her cos- 
 tume and behavior betoken one distinguished among the 
 crowd of his persecutors, — in short, their sultana or queen. 
 And such did she prove ; for on the black sheik appro- 
 priating the old sailor as a stake fairly won in the game, and 
 rescuing his newly-acquired property from the clanger of be« 
 ing damaged, Fatima followed him to his tent with such dem- 
 onstrations as showed her to be, if not the '' favorite," cer- 
 tainly the head of the harem. 
 
STARTING ON THE TRACK. 83 
 
 CHAPTER XKIV. 
 
 STARTING ON THE TRACK. 
 
 AS already said, the mirth of the three midship men 
 Mas brought to a quick termination. It ended on the 
 instant of Sailor Bill's disajjpearance behind tlie spur \f the 
 eand-hills. At the same instant all three came to a stop, 
 and stood regarding one another with looks of uneasiness 
 and apprehension. 
 
 All agreed that the maherry had made away with the 
 old man-o'-war's-man. There could be no doubt about it. 
 Bill's shouts, as he was hurried out of their hearing, proved 
 that he was doing his best to bring to, and that the " ship 
 of tlie desert" would not yield obedience to her helm. 
 
 They wondered a little why he had not slipped off, and 
 let the animal go. They could not see why he should fear 
 to drop down in the soft sand. He might have had a tum- 
 ble, but nothing to do him any serious injury, — nothing to 
 break a bone, or dislocate a joint. They supposed he had 
 stuck to the saddle, from not wishing to abandon the ma- 
 herry, and in hope of soon bringing it to a halt. 
 
 This was just what he had' done, for the first three or 
 four hundred yards. After that he would only have been 
 too well satisfied to separate from the camel, and let it go 
 its way. But then he was among the rough, jaggy rocks 
 through which the path led, and then dismounting was no 
 longer to be thought of, without also thinking of danger, 
 considering that the camel was nearly ten feet in height, 
 and going at a pitching pace of ten miles to the hour. To 
 have foi-saken his saddle at that moment would have been 
 to risk the breaking of his neck. 
 
 From where they stood looking after him, the mids could 
 not make out the character of the ground. Under the light 
 
84 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 of the moon, the fcurface seemed all of a piece, — all a bed 
 of smooth soft sand ! For this reason were they perplexed 
 Dy his behavior. 
 
 There was that in the incident to make them apprehensive. 
 The maherry would not have gone off at such a gait, with- 
 out some powerful motive to impel it. Up to that moment it 
 had shown no particular j9ewcAa?2« for rapid travelling, but had 
 been going, under their guidance, with a steady, sober docil- 
 ity. Something mnst have attracted it towards the interior. 
 What could that something be, if not the knowledge that its 
 home, or its companions, were to be found in this direc- 
 tion ? 
 
 This was the conjecture that came simultaneously into the 
 minds of all three, — as is known, the correct one. 
 
 There could be no doubt that their companion had been 
 carried towards an encampment ; for no other kind of settle- 
 ment could be thought of in such a place. It was even a 
 wonder that this could exist in the midst of a dreary, wild 
 expanse of pure sand, like that surrounding them. Perhaps, 
 thouglit they, there may be " land " towards the interior of 
 the country, — a spot of firm soil, with vegetation upon it ; 
 in short, an oasis. 
 
 After their first surprise had partially subsided, they took 
 counsel as to their course. Should they stay where they 
 were, and wait for Bill's return ? Or should they follow, in 
 the hope of overtaking him ? 
 
 Perhaps he might not return. If carried into a camp of 
 barbarous savages, it was not likely that he would. He 
 would be seized and held captive to a dead certainty. But 
 purely he would not be such a simpleton, as to allow the ma- 
 herry to transport him into the midst of his enemies. 
 
 Again sprang up their surprise at his not having made an 
 effort to dismount. 
 
 For some ten or fifteen minutes the midshipmen stood 
 hesitating, — their eyes all the while bent on the moonlit 
 
STARTING ON THE TRACK. 85 
 
 opening, tlirougli which the maherry had dif appeared. There 
 were no signs of anything in the pass, — at least anything 
 like either a camel or a sailor. Only the bright beams of 
 the moon glittering upon crystals of purest sand. 
 
 They thought they heard sounds, — the cries of quadr'^- 
 peds mingling with the voices of men. There were voices, 
 too, of shriller intonation, that might have proceeded from 
 the throats of women. 
 
 Colin was confident he heard such. He was not contra 
 dieted by his companions, who simply said, they could not 
 be sure that they heard anything. 
 
 But for the constant roar of the breakers, — rolling up 
 almost to the spot upon which they stood, — they would 
 have declared themselves differently ; hr at that moment 
 there was a chorus being carried on at no great distance, in 
 a variety of most unmusical sounds, — comprising the bark 
 of the dog, the neigh of the horse, tne snorting scream of 
 the dromedary, the bleat of the sheep, and the sharper cry 
 of its near kindred the goat, — along with the equally wild 
 and scarce more articulate utterances of savage men, women, 
 and children. 
 
 Colin was convinced that he heard all these sounds, and 
 declared that they could only proceed from some encamp- 
 ment. His companions, knowing that the young Scotchman 
 was sharp-eared, made no attempt to question his behef : but, 
 on the contrary, gave ready credence to it. 
 
 Under any circumstances it seemed of no use to remain 
 where they were. If Bill did not return, they were bound 
 in honor to go after him ; and, if possible, find out what had 
 become of him. If, on the other hand, he should be coming 
 back, they must meet him somewhere in the pass, — through 
 which the camel had carried him off. — since there was no 
 other by which he might conveniently get back to them. 
 
 This point determined, the three mids, setting their faces 
 for the interior of the country, stjirted olF towards the break 
 between the sand-hills. 
 
M TH5 BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 BILL TO BE ABANDONED 
 
 rS^HEY proceeded with caution, — Colin even more thaa 
 JL his companions. The young Englishman was not so 
 distrustful of the " natives," whoever they might be, as the 
 son of Scotia ; and as for O'Connor, he still persisted in the 
 oelief that there would be little, if any, danger in meeting 
 with men, and, in his arguments, still continued to urge seek- 
 ing such an encounter as the best course they could pursue. 
 
 " Besides," said Terence, " Coly says he hears the voices 
 of women and children. Sure no human creature that 's 
 got a woman and chUd in his company would be such a 
 cruel brute as you make out this desert Ethiopian to be ? 
 Sailors' stories, to gratify the melodramatic ears of Moll and 
 Poll and Sue ! Bah ! if there be an encampment, let 's go 
 straight into it, and demand hospitality of them. Sure they 
 must be Arabs ; and sure you 've heard enough of Arab 
 hospitality ? " 
 
 " More than 's true, Terry," rejoined the young English- 
 man. " More than 's true, I fear." 
 
 " You may well say that," said Colin, confirmingly. " From 
 what I 've heard and read, — ay, and from something I 've 
 iieen while up the Mediterranean, — a more beggarly hosjii- 
 tality than that called Arab don't exist on the face of the 
 earth. It 's all well enough, so long as you are one of them- 
 selves, and, like them, a believer in their pretended prophet. 
 Beyond that, an Arab has got no more hospitality than a 
 hyena. You 're both fond of talking about skin-flint Scotcb- 
 men." 
 
 " True," interrupted Terence, who, even in that serious 
 eituation, could not resist such a fine opportunity for dis- 
 playing his Irish hjmoi*. " I never think of a Scotchmao 
 
Bin TO BE ABANDONED. 87 
 
 vnthout thinking of nis skin. ' God bless the gude Duke 
 of Argyle ! ' " 
 
 " Shame, Terence ! " interrupted Harry Blount ; " out 
 situation is too serious for jesting." 
 
 « He — all of us — may find it so before long," continued 
 Colin, preser^ang his temper unruffled. " If that yelling 
 crowd — that I can now hear plainer than ever — should 
 come upon us, we '11 have something else to think of than 
 jokes about ' gude Duke o' Argyle.' Hush ! Do you hear 
 that ? Does it convince you that men and women are near ? 
 There are scores of both kinds." 
 
 CoHn had come to a stop, the others imitating his exam- 
 ple. They were now more distant from the breakers, — 
 whose roar was somewhat deadened by the intervention of a 
 sand-spur. In consequence, the other sounds were heard 
 more distinctly. They could no longer be mistaken, — even 
 by the incredulous O'Connor. 
 
 There were voices of men, women, and children, — cries 
 and calls of quadrupeds, — each according to its own kind, 
 all mingled together in what might have been taken for 
 some nocturnal saturnalia of the Desert. 
 
 The crisis was that in which Sailor Bill had become a 
 subject of dispute between the two sheiks, — in which not 
 only their respective followers of the biped kind appeared 
 to take part, but also every quadruped in the camp, — dogs 
 and dromedaries, horses, goats, and sheep, — as if each had 
 an interest in the ownership of the old man-o'-war's-man. 
 
 The grotesque chorus was succeeded by an interval ot 
 silence, uninterrupted and profound. This was while the 
 two sheiks were playing their game of " helga," — the 
 « chequers " of the Saara, with Sailor Bill as their stake. 
 
 During this tranquil interlude, the three midshipmen had 
 advanced through the rock-strewn ravine, had crept cau- 
 tiously inside the ridges that encircled the camp, and con- 
 cealed by the b^vlvsg bushes of mimosa, and favored by tLa 
 
88 THE BOY SLATES. 
 
 light of a full moon, had approached near enough to tak^ 
 note of what was passing among the tents. 
 
 What they saw there, and then, was confirmatory of the 
 theory of the young Scotchman ; and convmced not onlj 
 Harry Blount, but Terence O'Connor, that the stories of 
 Arab hospitality were not only untrue, buf diametrically 
 opposed to the truth. 
 
 There was old Bill before their faces, stripped to the 
 shirt, — to the "buff," — surrounded by a circle of short, 
 squat women, dark-skinned, with black hair, and eyes spar- 
 kling in the moonlight, who were torturing hira with tongue 
 and touch, — who pinched and spat upon him, — who looked 
 altogether like a band of infernal Furies collected around 
 some innocent victim that had fallen among them, and giv- 
 ing full play to their fiendish instincts ! 
 
 Although they were witnesses to the subsequent rescue 
 of Bill by the black sheik, — and the momentary release of 
 the old sailor from his tormentors, — it did not increase 
 their confidence in the crew who occupied the encampment. 
 
 From the way in which the old salt appeared to be 
 treated, they could tell that he was regarded by the hosts 
 into whose hands he had fallen, not as a guest, but simply 
 as a " piece of goods," — just like any other waif of the 
 wreck that had been washed on that inhospitable shore. 
 
 In whispers the three mids made known their thoughts to 
 one another. Hai'ry Blount no longer doubted the truth of 
 Colin's statements ; and O'Connor had become equally con- 
 verted from his increduhty. The conduct of the women to- 
 wards the unfortunate castaway — whicli all three witnessed 
 — told Uke the tongue of a trumpet. It was cruel beyond 
 question. What, when exercised, must be that of their 
 men ? 
 
 To think of leaving their old comrade in such keeping 
 was not a pleasant reflection. It was like their abandon- 
 ing him upon the sand-spit, — to tlie threatening engulf- 
 
A CAUTIOUS RETREAT. 89 
 
 ment of the tide. Even worse : for the angry breakers 
 seemed less spi eful than the hags who surrounded him ui 
 the Arab camp. 
 
 Still, what could the boys do ? Three midshipraeti, — i 
 armed only with their tiny dirks, — what chance would they 
 have among so many? There were scores of these sinewy 
 sons of the Desert, — without counting the shrewish women, 
 — each armed with gun and scimitar, any one of whom 
 ought to have been more than a match for a " mid." It 
 would have been sheer folly to have attempted a rescue. 
 Despair only could have sanctioned such a course. 
 
 In a whispered consultation ic was determined otherwise. 
 The old sailor must be abandoned to his fate, just as he had 
 been left upon the sand-spit. His youthful companions 
 could only breathe a prayer in his behalf, and express a 
 hope that, as upon the latter occasion, some providential 
 chance should turn up in his favor, and he might again be 
 permitted to rejoin them. 
 
 After communicating this hope to one another, all three 
 turned their faces shoreward, determined to put as much 
 space between themselves and the Arab encampment aa 
 night and circumstances would permit. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A CAUTIOUS RETREAT. 
 
 THE ravine, up which the maherry had carried the old 
 man-o'-war's-man, ran perpendicularly to the trending 
 of the seashore, and almost in a direct line from the beach 
 to the valley, in which was the Arab encampment. It corld 
 not, however, be eaid to debouch into this valley. Across 
 
90 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 its mouth the sand-drift had fonaed a barrier, like a hug« 
 " snow-wreath," uniting the two parallel ridges that formed 
 the sides of the ravine itself. This " mouth-iiiece " was 
 not so high as either of the flanking ridges ; though it was 
 nearly a hundred feet above the level of the beach on one 
 side, and the valley on the other. Its crest, viewed en pro- 
 file, exhibited a saddle-shaped curve, the concavity turned 
 upward. 
 
 Through the centre of this saddle of sand, and trans- 
 versely, the camel had carried Bill ; and over the same 
 track the three midshipmen had gone in search of liim. 
 
 They had seen the Arab tents from the summit of the 
 " pass " ; and had it been daylight, need have gone no nearer 
 to note what was being there done. Even by the moon- 
 light, they had been able to make out the forms of the 
 horses, camels, men, and women ; but not with sufficient 
 distinctness to satisfy them as to what was going on. 
 
 For this reason had they descended into the valley, — 
 creeping cautiously down the slope of the sand-wreath, and 
 with equal caution advancing from boulder to bush, and bush 
 to boulder. 
 
 On taking the back track to regain the beach, they still 
 observed caution, — though perhaps not to such a degree as 
 when approaching the camp. Their desire to put space 
 between themselves and the barbarous denizens of the Des- 
 ert, — of whose barbarity they had now obtained both ocular 
 and auricular proof, — had very naturally deprived them of 
 that prudent coolness which the occasion required. For all 
 that, they did not retreat with reckless rashness ; and all 
 three arrived at the bottom of the sloping sand-ridge, with- 
 out having any reason to think they had been observed. 
 
 But the most perilous point was yet to be passed. 
 Against the face of the acclivity, there was not much danger 
 of their being seen. The moon was shining on the other 
 aide. That which they had to ascend was in shadow,—* 
 
A CAUTIOUS RETREAT. 91 
 
 dark enough to obscure the outlines of their bodies to an ey* 
 looking in that du'ection, from such a distance as the camp. 
 It was not while toiling up the slope that they dreaded de- 
 tection, but at the moment when they must cross tlie saddle- 
 shaped summit of the pass. Then, the moon being low down 
 in the sky, directly in front of their faces, while the camp, 
 still lower, was right behind their backs, it was not difficult 
 to tell that their bodies would be exactly aligned between 
 the luminary of night and the sparkling eyes of the Arabs, 
 and that their figures would be exhibited in conspicuous 
 outline. 
 
 It had been much the same way on their entrance to the 
 oasis ; but then they were not so well po>te<l up in the peril 
 of their position. They now wondered at their not having 
 been observed while advancing; but that could be ration- 
 ally accounted for, on the supposition that the Bedouins 
 liad been, at the time, too busy over old Bill to take heed 
 of anything beyond the limits of their encampment. 
 
 It was different now. There was quiet in the camp, 
 though both male and female figures could be seen stir- 
 ring among the tents. The saturnalia that succeeded the 
 castaway had come to a close. A comparative peacefulness 
 reigned throughout the valley ; but in this very tranquillity 
 lay the danger which our adventurers dreaded. 
 
 With nothing else to attract their attention, the occupants 
 of the encampments would be turning their eyes in every 
 direction. If any of them should look westward at a given 
 moment, — that is, while the three mids should be "in tho 
 saddle," — the latter could not fail to be discovered. 
 
 What was to be done ? There was no other way leading 
 forth from the valley. It was on all sides encircled by steep 
 ridges of sand, — not so steep as to hinder them from being 
 Bcaled ; but on every side, except that on which they had 
 entered, and by which they were about to make their ex>t, 
 the moon was shining in resplendent brilliance. A cat could 
 
92 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 not have crawled up anywhere, without being seen from the 
 tents, — even had she been of the hue of the sand itself. 
 
 A hurried consultation, held between the trio of adven 
 turers, convinced them that there was nothing to be gained 
 by turning back, — nothing by going to the right or the left. 
 There was no other way — no help for it — but to scale the 
 ridge in front, and " cut " as quickly as possible across the 
 hollow of the " saddle." 
 
 There was one other way ; or at least a deviation from 
 the .'*,ourse which had thus recommended itself. It was to 
 wait for the going down of the moon, before they should 
 attempt the "crossing." This prudent project originated 
 in the brain of the young Scotchman ; and it might have 
 been well if his companions had adopted the idea. But 
 they would not. What they had seen of Saiu'an civilization 
 had inspired them with a keen disgust for it ; and they were 
 only too eager to escape from its proximity. The punish- 
 ment inflicted upon poor Bill had made a painfid impression 
 upon them ; and they had no desire to become the victims 
 of a similar chastisement. 
 
 Cohn did not urge his counsels. He had been as much 
 impressed by what he had seen as his companions, and was 
 quite as desirous as they to give the Bedouins a " wide berth." 
 Withdrawing his opposition, therefore, he acceded to the 
 original design ; and, without further ado, all three com* 
 menced crawling up the slope. 
 
A QUEER QUADRUPED. 93 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A QUEER QUADRUPED. 
 
 HALF way up, they halted, though not to take breath. 
 Strong-limbed, long-winded lads like them — whc 
 could have " swarmed " in two minutes to the main truck of 
 a man-o'-war — needed no such indulgence as that. In- 
 stead of one hundred feet of sloping sand, any one of them 
 could have scaled Snowdon without stopping to look back. 
 
 Their halt had been made from a different motive. It 
 was sudden and simultaneous, — all three having stopped at 
 the same time, and without any previous interchange of speech. 
 The same cause had brought them to that abrupt cessation 
 in their climbing ; and as they stood side by side, aligned 
 upon one another, the eyes of all three were turned on the 
 same object. 
 
 It was an animal, — a quadruped It could not be any- 
 thing else if belonging to a sublunary world ; and to this it 
 appeared to belong. A strange creature notwithstanding ; 
 and one which none of the three remembered to have met 
 before. The remembrance of something like it flitted across 
 their brains, seen upon the shelves of a museum ; but not 
 enough of resemblance to give a clue for its identification. 
 
 The quadruped in question was not bigger than a " San 
 Bernard," a " Newfoundland," or a mastiff : but seen as it 
 was, it loomed larger than any of the three. Like these 
 creatures, it was canine in shape — lupine we should rather 
 say — but of an exceedingly grotesque and ungainly figure. 
 A huge square head seemed set without neck upon its 
 shoulders ; while its fore limb? — out of all proportion 
 longer than the hind ones — gave to the spinal column a 
 sharp downward slant towards the tail. The latter append- 
 age, short and "bunchy," ended abruptly, as if either cut 
 
94 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 or " driven in," — adding to the uncouth appearance of the 
 animal. A stiff hedge of hard bristles upon the back con- 
 tinued its chevaux de /rise along the short, thick neelc, till it 
 ended between two erect tufted ears. Such was the shape 
 of the beast that had suddenly presented itself to the eyes of 
 our adventurers. 
 
 They had a good opportunity of observing its outlines. It 
 was on the ridge towards the crest of which they were ad- 
 vancing. The moon was shining beyond. Every turn of 
 its head or body — every motion made by its liml)s — was 
 conspicuously rev-alcd agamst the luminous background of 
 the sky. 
 
 It was neither standing, nor at rest in any way. Head, 
 limbs, and body were all in motion, — constantly changing, 
 not only their relative attitudes to one another, but their 
 absolute situation in regard to surrounding objects. 
 
 And yet the change was anything but arbitrary. The 
 relative movements made by the members of the animal's 
 body, as well as the absolute alterations of position, were 
 all in obedience to strictly natural laws, — all repetitions of 
 the same manoeuvre, worked with a monotony that seemed 
 mechanical. 
 
 The creature was pacing to and fro, like a well-trained 
 gentry, — its "round" being the curved crest of the sand- 
 rido-e, from which it did not deviate to the Hcence of an 
 inch. Backward and forward did it traverse the saddle in 
 a longitudinal direction, — now poised upon the pommel, — 
 now sinking downward in'io the seat, and then rising to the 
 level of the coup, — now turning in the opposite direction, 
 and retracing in long, uncouth strides, the path over which 
 it appeared to have been passing since the earliest hour of 
 its existence! 
 
 Independent of the surprise which the ]>resence of thia 
 animal had created, there was something in its aspect calcu 
 lated to cause terror. Perhaps, had the mids known what 
 
A QUEER QUADRUPED. 9( 
 
 kind of creature it was, or been in any way apprized of iti 
 real character, they would have paid less regard to its pres- 
 ence. Certainly not so much as tliey did : for, instead of 
 advancing upon it, and making their way over the crest of 
 the ridge, they stopped in their track, and held a whispered 
 consultation as to what they should do. 
 
 It is not to be denied that the barrier before them present- 
 ed a formidable appearance. A brute, it appeared as big as 
 a bull — for magnified by the moonlight, and perhaps a little 
 by the fears of those who looked upon it, the quadruped was 
 quite qnadrvpled in size. Disputing their passage too ; for 
 its movements made it manifest that such was its design. 
 Backwards and forwards, up and down that curving crest, 
 did it glide, with a nervous quickness, that hindered any 
 hope of being able to rush past it — either before or behind 
 — its own crest all the while erected, like that of the dragon 
 subdued by St. George. 
 
 With all his English " pluck " — even stunulated by this 
 resemblance to the national knight — Harry Blount felt shy 
 to approach that creatui'e that challenged the passage of 
 himself and his companions. 
 
 Had there been no danger en arriere, perhaps our adven- 
 turers would have turned back into the valley, and left the 
 ugly quadruped master of the pass. 
 
 As it was, a different resolve was arrived at — necessity 
 being the dictator. 
 
 The three midshipmen, drawing their dirks, advanced in 
 line of battle up the slope. The Devil himself could scarce 
 withstand such an assault. England, Scotland, Ireland, 
 abreast — tres jnncti in uno — united in thought, aim, and 
 action — was there aught upon earth — biped, quadi-uped, 
 or mille-pied — that must not yield to the charge ? 
 
 If there was, it was not that animal oscillating along the 
 saddle of sand, progressing from pammel to cantle, like tbfl 
 pendulum of a clock. 
 
B6 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Wliether natural or supernatural, long before our adv^eo 
 turers got near enough to decide, the creature, to use a 
 phrase of very modern mention, " skedaddled," leaving thena 
 free — so far as it was concerned — to continue their retreat 
 unmolested. 
 
 It did not depart, however, until after delivering a salute, 
 that left our adventurers in greater doubt than ever of its 
 true character. They had been debating among themselves 
 whether it was a thing of the earth, of time, or somethmg 
 that belonged to eternity. They had seen it under a fair 
 light, and could not decide. But now that they had heard 
 it, — had listened to a strain of loud cachinnation, — scarce 
 mocking the laughter of the maniac, — there was no escap- 
 ing from the conclusion that what they had seen was either 
 Satan himself, or one of his Ethiopian satellites ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIIT. 
 
 THE HUE AND CRY. 
 
 AS the strange creature that had threatened to dispute 
 their passage was no longer in sight, and seemed, 
 moreover, to have gone clear away, the three mids ceased to 
 think any more of it, — their minds being given to making 
 their way over the ridge without being seen by the occu- 
 pants of the encampment. 
 
 Having returned their dirks to the sheath, they continued 
 to advance towards the crest of the transverse Band-spar, as 
 cautiously as at starting. 
 
 It is possible they might have suceeeded in crossing, with- 
 out being perceived, but for a circumstance of wliich they 
 had taken too little heed. Only too well pleased at seeing 
 
THE HUE AND CRY. 97 
 
 die strange quadruped make its retreat, they had been less 
 affected by its parting salutation, — weird and wild as this 
 had sounded in their ears. But they had not thouglit of tha 
 effects wliich the same sakite had produced upon the people 
 of the Arab camp, causing all of them, as it did, to turn 
 their eyes in the direction whence it was heard. To them 
 there was no mystery in that screaming cachinnation. Un- 
 earthly as it had echoed m the ears of the three mids, it fell 
 with a perfectly natural tone on those of the Arabs : for it 
 was but one of the well-known voices of their desert home, 
 recognized by them as the cry of the laughing hyena. 
 
 The effect produced upon the encampment was twofold. 
 The children straying outside the tents, — like young chicks 
 frightened by the swooping of a hawk, — ran inward ; while 
 their mothers, after the manner of so many old hens, rushed 
 forth to take them under their protection. The proximity 
 of a hungry hyena, — more especially one of the laughing 
 species, — was a circumstance to cause alarm. All the 
 fierce creature required was a chance to close his strong, 
 vice-like jaws upon the limbs of one of those juvenile Ish- 
 maelites, and that would be the last his mother should ever 
 gee of him. 
 
 Knowing this, the screech of the hyena had produced a 
 momentary commotion among the women and children of 
 the encampment. Neither had the men listened to it un- 
 moved. In hopes of procuring its skin for house or tent 
 furniture, and its flesh for food, — for these hungry wander- 
 ers will eat anything, — several had seized hold of their 
 long guns, and rushed forth from among the tents. 
 
 The sound had guided them as to the direction in whiclr 
 ihey should go ; and as they ran forward, they saw, not a 
 hvena, but three human beings just mounting upon the sum- 
 -aiit of the sand-ridge, under the full light of the moon. So 
 conspicuously did the latter appear upon the smooth crest 
 of the wreath, that there was no longer any chance of con- 
 5 O 
 
98 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 cealment. Their dark blue dresses, the yellow buttons on 
 their jackets, and the bands around their cajjs, were aU dis- 
 cernible. It was the costume of the sea, not of the Saara. 
 The Arab wreckers knew it at a glance ; and, without wait- 
 ing to give a second, every man of the camp sallied off in 
 pursuit, — each, as he started, giving utterance to an ejacu- 
 lation of surprise or pleasure. 
 
 Some hurried forward afoot, just as they had been going 
 out to hunt the hyena ; others climbed upon their swift cam- 
 els ; while a few, who owned horees, thinking they might do 
 better with them, quickly caparisoned them, and came g-al- 
 loping on after the rest ; all three sorts of pursuers, — foot- 
 men, horsemen, and maherrymen, — seemingly as intent 
 upon a contest of screaming, as upon a trial of speed ! 
 
 It is needless to say that the three midshipmen were, by 
 this time, fully apprised of the " hue and cry " raised after 
 them. It reached their ears just as they arrived upon the 
 summit of the sand-ridge ; and any doubt they might have 
 had as to its meaning, was at once determined, when they 
 saw the Arabs brandishing their arms, and rushing out like 
 so many madmen from among the tents. 
 
 They stayed to see no more. To keep their ground could 
 only end in their being captured and carried prisoners to the 
 encampment; and after the spectacle they had just \vit- 
 nessed, in which the old man-o'-war s-man had played such 
 a melancholy part, any fate appeared preferable to that. 
 
 With some such fear all tliree were aifected ; and simul- 
 taneou.sly yielding to it, they turned tlieir backs upon the 
 pursuit, and rushed headlong down the ravine, up which they 
 had so imprudently ascejided. 
 
. A SUBAQUEOUS ASi'LUM, 99 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A SUBAQUEOUS ASYLUM. 
 
 AS tie gorge was of no great length, and the downward 
 incline in their favor, they were not long in getting to 
 its bwer end, and out to the level plain that formed the sea- 
 beach. 
 
 In their hurried traverse thither, it had not occurred to 
 them to inquire for what purpose they were running towards 
 the sea? There could be no chance of tlieir escaping in 
 that direction ; nor did there appear to be much in any other, 
 afoot as they were, and pursued by mounted men. The 
 night was too clear to ofier any opportunity of hiding diem- 
 Belves, especially in a country where there was neither 
 " brake, brush, nor scaur" to conceal them. Go which way 
 they would, or crouch wherever they might, they would be al- 
 most certain of being discovered by their lynx-eyed enemies. 
 
 There was but one way in which they nvigld have stood a 
 chance of getting clear, at least for a time. This was to 
 have turned aside among the sand ridges, and by keepmg 
 along some of the lateral hollows, double back upon their 
 pursuers. There were several such side hollows ; for on go- 
 ing up the main ravine they had observed them, and also in 
 coming down ; but in their hurry to put space between them- 
 selves and their pursuers, they had overlooked this chance 
 of concealment. 
 
 At best it was but slim, though it was the only one that 
 offered. It only presented itself when it was too late for 
 them to take advantage of it, — only after they had got 
 clear out of the gully and stood upon the open level of the 
 tsea-beach, within less than two hundred yards of the sea it- 
 self. There they halted, partly to recover breath and partly 
 tc hold counsel us to their further course. 
 
100 Tro< BOY SLAVES. 
 
 There was not much time for either ; and a3 the thre« 
 stood in a triangle with their faces turned towards eacn other, 
 the moonliglt shone upon lips and cheeks blanched with 
 dismay. 
 
 It now occurred to them for the first time, and simultane- 
 ously, that there was no hope of their escaping, either by 
 flight or concealment. 
 
 They were already some distance out upon the open plain, 
 as cons[)icuous upon its surface of white sand as would have 
 been three black crows in the middle of a field six inches 
 under snow. 
 
 They saw that they had made a mistake. They should 
 have stayed among the sand-ridges and sought shelter in 
 some of the deep gullies that divided them. They bethought 
 them of going back ; but a moment's deliberation Wiis suf- 
 ficient to convince them that this was no longer practicable. 
 There would not be time, scarce even to re-enter the ravine, 
 befoi'e their pursuers would be upon them. 
 
 It was an instinct that had caused them to rush towards 
 the sea — their habitual home, for which they had thought- 
 lessly sped — notwithstanding their late rude ejection from 
 it. Now that they stood upon its shore, as if appealing to 
 it for protection, it seemed still desirous of spurning them 
 from its bosom, and leaving them without mercy to their 
 merciless enemies ! 
 
 A line of breakers trended parallel to the water's edge — 
 scarce a cable's length from the shore, and not two hundred 
 yards from the spot where they had come to a pause. 
 
 They were not very formidable breakers — only the tide 
 rolling over a sand-bar, or a tiny reef of rocks. It was at 
 host but a big surf, crested with occasional flakes of ibam, 
 and sweeping in successive swells against the smootli beacli. 
 
 What was there in all this to fix the attention of th« 
 fugitives — for it had? The seething flood seemed only to 
 hiss at their despair I 
 
A SUBAQUEOUS ASYLUM. 101 
 
 And yet almost on the instant after suspending theii 
 flight, they had turned their faces towards it — as if some 
 object of interest had suddenly shown itself m the surf. 
 Object there was none — nothing but the flakes of white 
 froth and the black viti-eous waves over which it was dano- 
 
 VDg. 
 
 It was not an object, but a purpose that was engaging 
 their attention — a resolve that had suddenly sprung up 
 within their minds — almost as suddenly to bo carried into 
 execution. After all, their old home was not to prove so 
 inhospitable. It would provide them with a place of con- 
 cealment ! 
 
 The thought occurred to all three almost at the same in- 
 stant of time ; though Terence was the first to give speech 
 to it. 
 
 " By Saint Patrick ! " he exclaimed, " let 's take to the 
 wather ! Them breakers '11 give us a good hiding-place. 
 I 've hid before now in that same way, when taking a moon- 
 light bath on the coast of owld Galway. I did it to scare 
 my schoolfellows — by making believe I was drowned. 
 What say ye to our trying it ? " 
 
 His companions made no reply. They had scarce even 
 waited for the wmd-up of his harangue. Both had equally 
 perceived the feasibility of the scheme ; and yielding to a 
 like impulse, all tliree started into a fresh run, with their 
 faces turned towards the sea. 
 
 In less than a score of seconds, they had crossed the strip 
 of strand; and in a similarly short space of time were 
 pluno-ing — thigh deep — through the water; still striding 
 impetuously onward, as if they intended to wade across tha 
 Atlantic 1 
 
 A few more Si^rides, however, brought them to a stand — 
 just inside the line of breakers — where the seething wat- 
 ers, settling down into a state of comparative tranquillity, 
 presented a surface variegated with large clouts of floating 
 Iroth. 
 
102 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Amidst this mottling of white antl black, even under tli« 
 Dnglit moonlight, it would have been difficult for the keenest 
 eye to have detected the head of a human being — sup- 
 posing the body to have been kept carefully submerged ; 
 and under this confidence, the mids were not slow in sub- 
 merging themselves. 
 
 Ducking down, till their chins touched the water, all three 
 were soon as completely out of sight — to any eye looking 
 from the shore — as if Neptune, pitying their forlorn con- 
 dition, had stretched forth his trident with a bunch of sea- 
 weed upon its prongs, to screen and protect them. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE PURSUERS NONPLUSSED. 
 
 NOT a second too soon had they succeeded in making 
 good their entry into this subaqueous asylum. Scarce 
 had their chins come in contact with the water, when the 
 voices of men — accompanied by the baying of dogs, the 
 snorting of maherries, and the neighing of horses — were 
 heard within the gorge, from which they had just issued ; 
 and in a few minutes after a straggling crowd, composed of 
 these various creatures, came rushing out of the ravine. Of 
 men, afoot and on horseback, twenty or more were seen 
 pouring forth ; all, apparently, in hot haste, as if eager to 
 be in at tlie death of some object pursued, — that could not 
 possibly escape capture. 
 
 Once outside the jaws of the gully, tlie irregular cavalcade 
 advanced scatteringly over the plair Only for a short dis- 
 tance, however ; for, as if by a common understanding 
 rather than in obedience to any command, all came to 9 
 halt. 
 
THE PURSUERS NONPLUSSED. 103 
 
 A silence followed this halt, — apparently proceedihg from 
 astonit^hment. It was general, — it might be said universal, 
 — for even f :e animals appeared to partake of it ! At all 
 events, some seconds transpired during which the only sound 
 heard was the sighing of the sea, and the only motion to be 
 observed was the sinking and swelling of the waves. 
 
 The Saiiran rovers on foot, — as well as those that were 
 mounted, — their horses, dogs, and camels, as they stood 
 upon that smooth plain, seemed to have been suddenly 
 transformed into stone, and set like so many sphinxes in 
 the sand. 
 
 In truth it was surprise that had so transfixed them, — • 
 the men, at least ; and their well-trained animals were only 
 acting in obedience to a habit taught them by their masters, 
 who, in the pursuit of their predatory life, can cause these 
 creatures to be both silent and still, whenever the occasion 
 requires it. 
 
 Foi their surprise, — which this exhibition of it proved 
 to be extreme, — the Sons of the Desert had sufficient rea- 
 son. They had seen the three midshipmen on the crest of 
 the sand-ridge ; had even noted tlie peculiar garb that be- 
 decked their bodies, — ail this beyond doubt. Notwithstand- 
 ing the haste with which they had entered on the pursuit, 
 they had not continued it either in a reckless or improvident 
 manner. Skilled in the ways of the wilderness, — ■ cautious 
 as cat-, — they had continued the chase ; those in the lead 
 from time to time assuring themselves that the game was still 
 before them. This they had done by glancing occasionally 
 to the ground, where shoe-tracks in the soft sand — three 
 sets of them — leading to and fro, were sufficient evidence 
 that the three mids must have gone back to the emhouchurt 
 ol the ravine, and thither emerged upon the open sea-beach. 
 Where were they now'i 
 
 Looking up the smooth strand as far as the eye could 
 reach, and down it to a like distance, there was no placa 
 
104 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 where a crab could have screened itself; and these Saiiran 
 wreckers, well acquainted with the coast, knew that in neither 
 direction was there any other ravine or gully into which the 
 fugitives could have retreated. 
 
 No v/ouder, then, that the pursuers wondered, even to 
 speechlessness. 
 
 Their silence was of short duration, though it was suc- 
 ceeded only by cries, expressing their great surprise, among 
 which might have been distinguished their usual iuvoaitions 
 to Allah and the Prophet. It was evident that a supersti- 
 tious feeling had arisen in their minds, not without its usual 
 accompaniment of fear ; and although they no longer kept 
 their places, the movement now observable among them was 
 that they gathered closer together, and appeared to enter 
 upon a grave consultation. 
 
 This was terminated by some of them once more proceed- 
 ing to the embouchure of the ravine, and betaking themselves 
 to a fresh scrutiny of the tracks made by the shoes of the 
 midshipmen; while the rest sat silently upon their horses 
 and maherries awaiting the result. 
 
 The foot-marks of the three raids were still easily tracea- 
 ble — even on the ground already trampled by the Arabs, 
 their horses, and maherries. The "cloots" of a camel would 
 not have been more conspicuous in the mud of an English 
 road, than were the shoe-prints of the three young seamen 
 in the sands of the Saara. The Arab trackers had no diffi- 
 culty in making them out ; and in a few minutes had traced 
 them from the mouth of the gorge, almost in a direct line to 
 the sea. There, however, there was a breadth of wet sea- 
 beach — where the springy sand instantly obliterated any 
 foot-mark that might be made upon it — and tliere the tractB 
 ended. 
 
 But why should they have extended farthei ? No one 
 could have gone beyond that point, without either walking 
 straight into the water, or keeping along the strip of sea 
 beach, upwarda or downwards. 
 
A DOUBLE PREDICAMENT. 105 
 
 The fugitives could not have escaped in either way — ■ un- 
 ess they had taken to the water, and committed suicide by 
 drowning themselves ! Up the coast, or down it, they would 
 have been seen to a certainty. 
 
 Their pursuers, clustering around the place where the 
 tracks terminated, were no wiser than ever. Some of there 
 were ready to believe that drowning had been the fate of 
 the castaways upon their coast, and so stated it to tlieir com 
 panions. But they spoke only conjectures, and in tones that 
 told them, like the rest, to be under the influence of some 
 superstitious fear. Despite their confidence in the protection 
 of their boasted Prophet, they felt a natural dread of that 
 wilderness of waters, less known to them than the wilder 
 ness of sand. 
 
 Ere long they withdrew from its presence, and betook ' 
 themselves back to their encampment, under a half belief 
 that the three individuals seen and pur.sued had either 
 drowned themselves in the great deep, or by some mysterious 
 means known to these strange men of the sea, had escaped 
 across its far-reachinof waters! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A DOUBLE PREDICAMENT. 
 
 SHORT time as their pursuers had stayed upon the strand, 
 it seemed an age to the submerged midshipmen. 
 On first placing themselves in position, they had chosen a 
 spot where, with their knees resting upon the bottom, they 
 could just hold their chins above water. Tliis would enable 
 them to hold their ground without anj great difficulty, and 
 for some dme they so maintained it. 
 5* 
 
106 THE BOY SLA\^S. 
 
 Soon, however, they began to perceive that the water was 
 rising around them, — a circumstance easily explained by 
 the influx of the tide. The rise was slow and gradual : but, 
 for all that, they saw that should they require to remain in 
 their place of concealment for any length of time, drowning 
 must be their inevitable destiny. 
 
 A means of avoiding this soon presented itself. Insida 
 the line of breakers, the water slioaled gradually towards 
 the shore. By advancing in this direction they could still 
 keep to the same depth. This course they adopted — glid- 
 ing cautiously forward upon their knees, whenever the tide 
 admonished them to repeat the manoeuvre. 
 
 This state of affairs would have been satisfactory enough, 
 but for a circumstance that, every moment, was making it- 
 self more apparent. At each move they were not only ap- 
 proaching nearer to their enemies, scattered along the 
 strand ; but as they receded fi'om the line of the breakers, 
 the water became comparatively tranquil, and its smooth 
 surface, less confused by the masses of floating foam, was 
 more likely to betray them to the spectators on the shore. 
 
 To avoid this catastrophe — which would have been fatal 
 — they moved shoreward, only when it became absolutely 
 necessary to do so, often permitting the tidal waves to sweep 
 completely over the crown of their heads, and several times 
 tlireaten suiFocation. 
 
 Under circumstances so trying, so apparently hopeless, most 
 lads — aye, most men — would have submitted to despair, 
 and surrendered themselves to a fate apparently unavoidable. 
 i5ut with that true British pluck — combining the tenacity 
 of the Scotch terrier, tlie English bulldog, and the Irish 
 etaghound — the three youthful representatives of the triple 
 kingdom determined to hold on. 
 
 And they held on, with the waves washing against their 
 cheeks — and at intervals quite over their heads — with the 
 briny fluid rushing into their ears and up tlieir nostrils, until 
 
A DOUBLE PREDICAMENT. 107 
 
 one after another began to believe, that there would be no 
 alternative between surrendering to tlie cruel sea, or to ,hfl 
 not less cruel sons of the Saiira. 
 
 As they v:ere close together, they could hold council, — 
 conversing all the time in sometliing louder than a whisper. 
 There was no risk of their being overheard. Though scarce a 
 cable's length from the shore, the hoarse soughing of the 
 9urf would have drowned the sound of their voices, even if 
 uttered in a much louder tone ; but being skilled in the 
 acoustics of the ocean, they exchanged their thoughts with 
 due caution ; and while encouraging one another to remain 
 firm, they speculated freely upon the chances of escaping 
 from their perilous predicament. 
 
 While thus occupied, 2. predicament of an equally perilous, 
 and still more singular kind, was in store for them. They 
 had been hitherto advancing towards the water's edge, — in 
 regular progression with the influx of the tide, — all the 
 while upon their knees. This, as already stated, had en- 
 abled them to sustain themselves steadily, without showing 
 anything more than three quarters of the head above the 
 surface. 
 
 All at once, however, the water appeared to deepen ; and 
 by going upon their knees they could no longer surmount 
 tlie waves, — even with tlieir eyes. By moving on towards 
 the beach, tliey might again get into shallow water ; but just 
 at this point the commotion caused by the breakers came to 
 a termination, and the flakes of froth, with the surround- 
 ing spray of bubbles, here bursting, one after another, left 
 the surface of the sea to its restored tranquillity. Any- 
 thing beyond — a cork, or the tiniest waif of seaweed 
 — could scarce fail to be seen from the strand, — though 
 the latter was itself constantly receding as the tide flowed 
 inward, 
 
 Tht, submerged middies were now in a dilemma they had 
 not dreamed* of. By holding their ground, they could noi 
 
108 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 fail to " go nnder." By advancing further, they would na 
 
 the risk of being discovered to the enemy. 
 
 Their first movement was to get up from their knees, and 
 raije their heads above water by standing in a crouched atti- 
 tude on their feet. This they had done before, — more than 
 once, — returning to the posture of supplication only when 
 too tired to sustain themselves. 
 
 This they attempted again, and determined to continue it 
 to the last moment, — in view of the danger of approaching 
 nearer to the enemy. 
 
 To their consternation they now found it would no longer 
 avail them. Scarce had they risen erect before discovering 
 that even in this position they were immersed to the chin, 
 and after plunging a pace or two forward, they were still 
 sinking deepei'. They could feel that their feet were not 
 resting on firm bottom, but constently going down. 
 
 "A quicksand!" was the apprehension that rushed simul- 
 taneously into the minds of all three ! 
 
 Fortunately for them, the Arabs at that moment, yielding 
 to their fatalist fears, had faced away from the shore ; else 
 the plunging and sphvshing made by tliem in their violent 
 endeavors to escape from the quicksand, could not have 
 failed to dissipate tliese superstitions, and cause their pnr- 
 Buers to complete the capture they had so childlessly re- 
 linquished. 
 
 As it chanced, the Saiiran wreckers saw nothing of all 
 this; and as the splasliing sounds, whiih otherwise might 
 have reached them, were drowned by the louder sotiyh of 
 the sea, they returned toward their encampment in a stat« 
 of perplexity bordering upon bewild«irmeut ! 
 
ONCE MORE THE MOCKING LAUGH. 103 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 ONCE MOKE THE MOCKING LAUGH. 
 
 AFTER a good deal of scrambling and struggling, oui 
 adventurers succeeded in getting clear of the quicksand, 
 and planting their feet u^wn firmer bottom, — a little nearer 
 to the water's edge. Thougli at this point more exposed 
 than they wished to be, they concealed themselves as well 
 as they could, holding their faces under the water up to the 
 eyes. 
 
 Though believing that their enemies were gone for good, 
 they dared not as yet wade out upon the beach. The re- 
 tiring pursuers would naturally be lookmg back ; and as the 
 moon was still shining clearly as ever, they might be seen 
 from a great distance. 
 
 They feel that they would not be safe in leaving their 
 place of concealment until the horde had recrossed the ridge, 
 and descended once more into the oasis that contained their 
 encampment. 
 
 Making a rough calculation as to the time it would take 
 for the return journey, — and allowing a considerable mar- 
 gin against the eventuality of any unforeseen delay, — the 
 mids remained in their subaqueous retreat, without any mOf 
 terial change of position. 
 
 When at length it appeared to them that the " coast was 
 clear," they rose to their feet, and commenced wading tow- 
 ards the strand. 
 
 Tliough no longer believing themselves observed, they 
 proceeded silently and with caution, — the only noise made 
 among them being the chattering of their teeth, which were 
 going like three complete sets of castanets. 
 
 This they could not help. The night breeze playing upon 
 the saturated garments, — that clung coldly around theii 
 
110 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 bodies, — chilliil them to the very bones ; and not only theii 
 teeth, but their knees knocked together, as they staggered 
 towards the beach. 
 
 Just before reacliing it, an incident arose that filled thena 
 with fresh forebodings. The strange beast that had threat- 
 ened to intercept their retreat over the ridge, once more ap- 
 peared before their eyes. It was either the same, or one of 
 the same kind, — equally ugly, and to all appearance, equal- 
 ly determined to dispute their passage. 
 
 It was now patrolling the strand close by the water's 
 edge, — going backwards and forwards, precisely as it had 
 done along the saddle-shaped sand wreath, — all the while 
 keeping its hideous fiice turned towards them. With the 
 moon behind their backs, they had a better view of it than 
 before ; but this, though enabling them to perceive that it 
 was some strange quadruped, did not in any way improve 
 their opinion of it. They could see that it was covered with 
 a coat of long shaggy hair, of a brindled brown color ; and 
 that from a pair of large orbs, set obliquely in its head, 
 gleamed forth a fierce, sullen light. 
 
 How it had come there they knew not ; but there it was. 
 Judging from the experience of their former encounter with 
 it they presumed it would again retreat at their approach ; 
 and, once more drawing their dirks, they advanced boldly 
 towards it. 
 
 They were not deceived. Long before they were near, 
 the uncouth creature turned tail ; and, again giviug utter- 
 ance to its unearthly cry, scampered off towards the ravine, 
 — in whose shadowy depths it soon disappeared from their 
 view. 
 
 Supposing they had nothing further to fear, our adven- 
 turers stepped out upon the strand, and commenced eonsul- 
 tatiou as to their future course. 
 
 To keep on down the coast and get as far as possible from 
 the Ai'ab encampment, — was the thought of all three ; an<i 
 
ONCE MORE THE MOCKING LAUGH. Ill 
 
 as they were unanimous in this, scarce a moment was wasted 
 in coming to a determination. Once resolved, they faced 
 eouthwai d ; and started off as briskly as their shivering 
 frames and saturated garments would allow them. 
 
 There was not much to cheer tliem on their way, — only 
 the thought that they had so adroitly extricated themselves 
 from a dread danger. But even this proved only a fanciful 
 consolation ; for scarce had they made a score of steps along 
 the strand, when they were brought to a sudden halt, by 
 hearing a noise that appeared to proceed from the ravine 
 behind them. 
 
 It was a slight noise, something like a snort, apparently 
 made by some animal ; and, for the moment, they supposed 
 it to come from the ugly quadruped that, after saluting them, 
 had retreated up the goi-ge. 
 
 On turning their eyes in that direction, they at once saw 
 that they were mistaken. A quadruped had produced the 
 noise ; but one of a very different kind from the hairy brute 
 with which they had parted. Just emerging from the shad- 
 ow of the sand-hills, they perceived a huge creature, whose 
 uncouth shape proclaimed it to be a camel. 
 
 The sight filled them with consternation. Not that it was 
 a camel ; but because, at the same time, they discovered that 
 there was a man upon its back, who, brandishing a long 
 weapon, was urging the animal towards tliem. 
 
 The three midsliipmen made no effort to continue the 
 journey thus unexpectedly interrupted. They saw that any 
 attempt to escape from such a fost-going creature would be 
 idle. Encumbered as they were with their wet garments, 
 they could not have distanced a lame duck ; and, resigning 
 themselves to the chances of destiny, they st^od awaiting the 
 encounter. 
 
112 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIIL 
 
 A CUNNING SHEIK. 
 
 WKEN the camel and its rider first loomed in sight, 
 — indistinctly seen under the shadow of the sanQ 
 dunes, — our adventurers had conceived a faint hope that it 
 might be Sailor Bill. 
 
 It was possible, they thought, that the old man-o-war's- 
 man, left unguarded in the camp, might have laid hands on 
 the maherry that had made away with him, and pressed it 
 into service to assist his escape. 
 
 The hope was entertained only for an instant. Bill had 
 encountered no such golden opportunity ; but was still a 
 prisoner in the tent of the black sheik, surrounded by his 
 f lire wish tormentors. 
 
 It was the maherry, however, that was seen coming back 
 for as it came near (he three middies recognized the creature 
 whose intrusion upon their slumbers of the preceding night 
 had been the means, perhaps, of saving their lives. 
 
 Instead of a Jack Tar now surmounting its high hunch, 
 they saw a little wizen-faced individual with sharp angular 
 features, and a skin of yellowish hue puckered like parch- 
 ment, lie appeared to be at least sixty years of age ; while 
 his costume, equipments, and above all, a certain authorita- 
 tive bearing, bespoke him to be one of the head men of the 
 horde. 
 
 Such in truth was he, — one of the two sheiks, — the old 
 Arab to whom the straying camel belonged ; and who waa 
 now mounted on his own maherry. 
 
 His presence on the strand at this, to our adventurers, most 
 inopportune moment, requires explanation. 
 
 He had been on tlie beacli before, along with the others j 
 »nd had gone away with the rest, But instead of contin« 
 
A CUNNING SHEIK. 115 
 
 ning on to the encampment, he liac? fallen behind in the ra- 
 vine ; where, under the cover of some rocks, and favored by 
 the obscure light within the gorge, he had succeeded in giv- 
 ing his comrades the slip. There he had remained, — per- 
 mitting the rest to recross the ridge, and return to the tents. 
 
 He had not taken these steps without an object. Less 
 superstitious than his black brother sheik, he knew there 
 must be some natural explanation of the disappearance of 
 the three castaways ; and he had determined to seek, and if 
 possible, to discover it. 
 
 It was not mere curiosity that prompted him to this de- 
 termination. He had been all out of sorts, with himself, since 
 losing Sailor Bill in the game of helga ; and he was desirous 
 of obtaining some compensation for his ill-luck, by captur- 
 ing the three castaways who had so mysteriously disap- 
 peared. 
 
 As to their having either drowned themselves, or walked 
 away over the waste of waters, the old sheik had seen too 
 many Saiiran summers and winters to give credence either 
 to one tale or the other. He knew they would turn up 
 again ; and though he was not quite certain of the where, he 
 more than half suspected it. He had kept his suspicions to 
 himself, — not imparting them even to his own special fol- 
 lowers. By the laws of the Saiira, a slave taken by any 
 one of the tribe belongs not to its chief, but to the individ- 
 ual who makes the capture. For this reason, had the cun- 
 ning sexagenarian kept his thoughts to himself, and fallen 
 solus into the rear of the returning horde. 
 
 It might bo supposed that he would have made some of 
 his following privy to his plan, — for the sake of having 
 help to effect such a wholesale capture. But no. His ex- 
 perience as a " Barbary wrecker " had taught him that 
 there would be no danger, — no hkelihcod of resistance, — 
 even though the castaways numberer^ thirty instead of 
 three. 
 
 H 
 
114 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Armed with this confidence, and his long gun, he had re- 
 turned down the ravine ; and laid in wait near its mouth,— 
 at a point where he commanded a view of the coast line, to 
 the distance of more than a mile on each side of him. 
 
 His vigil was soon rewarded : by seeing the three indi- 
 viduals for whom it had been kept step forth from the sea, 
 — as if emerging from its profoundest deptlis, — and stand 
 conspicuously upon the beach. 
 
 He had waited for nothing more ; but, giving the word to 
 his maherry, had ridden out of the ravine, and was now 
 advancing with all speed upou the tracks of the retreating 
 mids. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A QUEER ENCOUNTER. 
 
 JN about threescore seconds from the time he was first seen 
 pursuing them, tlie old sheik was up to the spot where 
 our adventurers had awaited him. 
 
 His first salute appeared to be some words of menace or 
 command, — rendered more emphatic by a series of gestures 
 made with liis long gun ; which was successively pointed at 
 the heads of the three. Of course, none of them understood 
 what was said ; but his gesticulations made it clear enough, 
 that he recpiired their company to the Arab encampment. 
 
 Thc'ir first impulse was to yield obedience to this com- 
 mand ; and Terence had given a sign of assent, which was 
 acquiesced in by Colin. Not so JNInster Blount, in whom 
 the British bull-dog had become aroused even to the show- 
 ing of Ins teeth. 
 
 " See him hanged first ! " cried Harry. " What ! yield up 
 to an old monkey like that, and w alk tam fly to the camp at 
 
A QUEER ENCOUNTER. Hi 
 
 the tail of his camel ? No sucli tiling ! If I am to be- 
 come a prisoner, it will be to one who can take me." 
 
 Terence, rather ashamed at having shown such facile sub- 
 mission, now rushed to the opposite extreme : and drawing 
 his dirk, cried out, — 
 
 " By Saint Patrick ! I 'ra with you, Harry ! Let 's die, 
 ratlier than yield ourselves prisoners to such a queer old 
 curmudgeon ! " 
 
 Colin, before declaring himself, glanced sharply around, 
 — carrying his eye towards the embouchure of the ravine, to 
 assure himself that the Arab was alone. 
 
 As there was nobody else in sight, — and no sound heard 
 that would indicate the proximity of any one, — it was prob- 
 able enough that the rider of the maherry was the only ene- 
 my opposed to them. 
 
 " The deil take him ! " cried Colin, after making his cau- 
 tious reconnoissance. " If he take us, he must first fight for 
 it. Come on, old skin-flint! you'll find we're true British 
 tars, — ready for a score of such as you." 
 
 The three youths had by this time un='4eathed their shin 
 ing daggers, and thrown themselves iD*o a sort of triangle, 
 the maherry in their midst. 
 
 The old sheik — unprepared f^r <• :,r)n. a reception — wae 
 altogether taken aback by it ; <iud /'^r some seconds sate up« 
 on his high perch seeminglj irresolute how to act. 
 
 Suddenly his rage appeared to rise to such a pitch, that 
 he could no longer command his actions ; and bringing the 
 long gun to his shoulder, he levelled it at Harry Blount, — 
 who had been foremost in braving him. 
 
 The stream of smoke, pouring forth from its muzzle, foi a 
 moment enveloped the form of the youthful mariner ; bi t 
 from the midst of that sulphury nimbus came fcrth a clear 
 manly voice, pronouncing the word " Missed ! " 
 
 "Thank God! "cried Terence and Colin, in a breath; 
 " now we have him in our power ! He can't load again I 
 Let 's on him all together ! Heave ho ! " 
 
116 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 And altering this nautical phrase of encouragement, thfl 
 three rnids, with naked dii-ks, rushed simultaneously towards 
 the maherry. 
 
 The Arab, old as he may have been, showed no signs ei- 
 ther of stiffness or decrepitude. On the contrary he exhibited 
 all the agility of a tiger-cat ; along with a fierce determina- 
 tion to continue the combat he had initiated, — notwith- 
 standing the odds, that were against him. On discharging 
 his gun, he had flung the useless weapon to the ground ; and 
 instead of it now grasped a long curving scimitar, with 
 which he commenced cutting around him in every direc- 
 tion. 
 
 Thus armed, he had the advantage of his assailants ; for 
 while he might reach any one of them by a quick cut, they 
 with their short dirks could not come within thrusting-dis- 
 tance of him, without imminent danger of having their arms, 
 or perchance their heads, lopped sheer off their shoulders. 
 
 Defensively, too, had the rider of the maherry an advan- 
 tage over his antagonists. While within distance of them, 
 at the point of his curving blade, seated upon his high perch, 
 he was beyond the reach of their weapons. Get close to 
 him as they might, and spring as high as they were able, 
 they could not bring the tips of their daggers in contact 
 with his skin. 
 
 In truth, there seemed no chance for them to inflict the 
 slightest wound upon him ; while at each fresh " wheel " of 
 the maherry, and each new sweep of the scimitar, one or 
 other of them was in danger of decapitation ! 
 
 On first entering uj)on the fight, our adventurers had not 
 taken into account the impregnable position of their antago- 
 nist. Soon, however, did they discover the advantages in 
 bia favor, with their own proportionate drawbacks. To 
 neutralize these was the question that new occupied them. 
 If something was not done soon, one ov other — perhaps 
 all three — would have to succumb to that keen cutting of 
 the scimitar. 
 
A QUEER ENCOUNTER. 117 
 
 * Let 's kill the camel ! " ened Harry Blount, " tbat '11 
 bring him within reach ; and then — " 
 
 Thf iea of the English youth was by no means a bad 
 one ; and perhaps Avould have been carried out. But be- 
 fore he could finish his speech, another scheme had been 
 conceived by Terence, — who iad already taken steps to- 
 wards its execution. 
 
 It was this that had interrupted Harry Blount in the ut- 
 terance of his counsel. 
 
 At school the young Milesian bad been distinguished in 
 the exercise of vaulting. " Leap-frog " had been his espe- 
 cial delight ; and no mountebank could bound to a ■ greater 
 height than he. At this crisis he remembered his old ac- 
 complishment, and called it to his aid. 
 
 Seeking an opportunity, — when the head of the maherry 
 was turned towai'ds his comrades, and its tail to himself, — 
 he made an energetic rush ; sprang half a score of feet from 
 the ground ; and flinging apart his feet, while in the air, 
 came down " stride legs " upon the croup of the camel. 
 
 It was fortunate for the old Arab that the effort thu? 
 made by the amateur saltimbanque had shaken the dirk from 
 his grasp, — else, in another instant, the camel would have 
 ceased to " carry double." 
 
 As it was, its two riders continued upon its back ; but in 
 such close juxtaposition, that it would have required sharp 
 eyes and a good light to tell that more than one individual 
 was mounted upon it. 
 
 Fast enfolded in the arms of the vigorous young Hiber- 
 nian, could scarce be distinguished the carcass of the old 
 Arab sheik, — shrunken to half size by the powerful com- 
 pression ; while the scimitar, so late whistling with perilous 
 impetuosity through the air, was now seen lying upon the 
 eaud, — its gleam no longer striking terror into the hearfi 
 of those whose heads it had been threatening to lop off! 
 
118 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 HOLDING ON TO THE HUMP. 
 
 nC^HE Straggle between Terence and the sheik still con- 
 i tinned, npon the back of the maherry. The object of 
 the yonng Irishman was to unhorse, or rather un-camcl, hia 
 antagonist, and get him to the ground. 
 
 This design the old Arab resisted toughly, and with all hia 
 strength, knowing that dismounted he would be no match 
 for the trio of stout lads whom he had calculated on captur- 
 ing at his ease. Once a pied he would be at their mercy, 
 since he was now altogether unarmed. His gun had been 
 unloaded ; and the shining scimitar, of which he had made 
 such a dangerous display, was no longer in his grasp. A3 
 already stated it had fallen to the ground, and at that pre- 
 cious moment was being picked up by Colin ; who in «'' 
 probability would have used it upon its owner, had not the 
 latter contrived to escape beyond its reach. 
 
 The mode of the sheik's escape was singular enough. 
 Still tenaciously holding on to the hump, from which the 
 young Irishman was using every effort to detach him, he 
 saw that his only chance of safety lay in retieating from the 
 spot, and, by this means, separating the antagonist who 
 clutcluid him from the two otliers that threatened upon the 
 ground below. 
 
 A signal shout to the maherry was sufficient to effect hig 
 purpose. On hearing it, the well-trained quadruped wlieelcd, 
 as upon a pivot, and in a shambling, but quick pace, started 
 back towards the ravine, wlience it had late issued. 
 
 To their consternation Colin and Harry beheld this unex- 
 pected movement ; and before cither of them could lay hold 
 of the halter, — now trailing along the sand, — the maherry 
 was going at a rate of speed which they vainly endeavored 
 
(11 lip 
 
 iM ' 
 
 Hi* l'# li» ^^vv4\\\«!l| 
 
HOLDING ON TO TIIE HUMP. 119 
 
 tvD surpass They could only follow in its wake, — as they 
 Aid so, shouting to Terence to let go his hold of the sheik, 
 and take his chance of a tumble to the ground. 
 
 Their admonitions appeared * not to be heeded. They 
 were not needed, — at least after a short interval had 
 elapsed. 
 
 At first the young Irishman had been so intent on his en- 
 deavors to dismount his adversary, that he did not notice the 
 signal given to the maherry, nor the retrograde movement it 
 had inaugurated. Not until the camel was re-entering the 
 ravine, and the steep sides of the sand dunes cast their dark 
 shadows before him, did he observe that he was being car- 
 ried away from his companions. 
 
 Up to this time he had been vainly striving to detach the 
 sheik from his hold upon the hump. On perceiving the dan- 
 ger, however, he desisted from this design, and at once en- 
 tered upon a struggle of a very different kind, — to detach 
 himself. 
 
 In all probability this would have proved equally difficult, 
 for, struggle as he might, the tough old Arab, no longer 
 troubling himself about the control of his camel, had twist^^i 
 his sinewy fingers under the midshipman's dirk-belt, and 
 held the latter in juxtaposition to his own body, supported 
 by the hump of the maherry, as if his very life depended on 
 not letting go. 
 
 A lucky circumstance — and this only — hindered the 
 young Irishman from being carried to the Arab encamp- 
 ment; a circumstance very similar to that which on the 
 preceding niglit had led to the capture of that same camel. 
 
 Its halter was again trailirtg. 
 
 Its owner, occupied with the " double " which it had so 
 unexpectedly been called upon to carry, was conducting it 
 only by his voice, and had neither thought nor hands for the 
 halter. 
 
 Once again the trailing end got into the split hoof — once 
 
120 THE BOY 5LAVE3. 
 
 again the maherry was tripped up ; and came down nech 
 foremost upon the sand. 
 
 Its load was spilled — Bedouin and Hibernian coming 
 together to the ground — both, if not dangerously hurt, at 
 least so shaken, as, for some seconds, to be deprived of their 
 senses. 
 
 Neither had quite recovered from the shock, when Harry 
 Blount and Colin, coming up in close pursuit, stooped over 
 the prostrate pair ; and neither Arab nor Irishman was very 
 clear in his comprehension, when a crowd of strange crea- 
 tures closed around them, and took possession of the whole 
 party ; as they did so yellmg like a cohort of fiends. 
 
 In the obfiiscation of his "sivin" senses, the young Irish- 
 man may have scarcely understood what was passing around 
 him. It was too clear to his companions, — clear as a catas- 
 trophe could be to those w^ho are its victims. 
 
 The shot fired by the sheik, if failing in the effects in- 
 tended, had produced a result almost equally fatal to the 
 three fugitives, — it had given warning to the Arabs in their 
 encampment ; who, again sallying forth, had arrived just in 
 time to witness the " decadence " of the camel, and now sur- 
 rounded the group that encircled it. 
 
 The courageous representative of England and the cool 
 young Scotchman were both taken by surprise, too much so 
 to give them a chance of thinking either of resistance or 
 flight ; while the mind of the Irish middy, from a diflTerent 
 cause, was equally in a hopeless " muddle." 
 
 It resulted in all thiee being captured and conducted uj 
 the ravine towai'ds the camp of the wreckers. 
 
OUR ADVENTURERS IN UNDRESS. 121 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 CUR ADVENTURERS IN UNDRESS. 
 
 OUR .adventurers made their approach to the douar, — 
 for such is the title of an Arab encampment, — with 
 as much unwillingness as Sailor Bill had done but an hour 
 before. Equally sans ceranonie, or even with less cere- 
 mony, did they enter among the tents, and certainly in a less 
 becoming costume, — since all three were stark naked with 
 the exception of their shirts. 
 
 This was the only article of clothing their captors had left 
 upon their backs ; and so far as comfort was concerned, they 
 would have been as well without it: for there was not a thread 
 of the striped cotton that was not saturated with sea-water. 
 
 It was a wonder that even these scanty garments were not 
 taken from them ; considering the eagerness with which they 
 had been divested of everything else. 
 
 On the instant after being laid hold of, they had been 
 stripped with as much rapidity, as if their bodies were about 
 to be submitted to some ignominious chastisement. But 
 they knew it was not that — only a desire on the part of 
 their captors to obtain possession of their clothes — every 
 article of which became the subject of a separate contention, 
 and more than one leading to a dispute that was near ter- 
 minating in a contest between two scimitars. 
 
 In this way their jackets and dreadnought trowsers — 
 their caps and shoes — their dirks, belts, and pocket para- 
 phernalia — were distributed among nearly as many claim- 
 ants as there were pieces. 
 
 You may suppose- that modesty interfered to resei've to 
 them their shirts ? Such a suoposition would be altogether 
 erroneous. There is no such word in the Bedouin vocabu 
 ary — no such feeling in the Bedouin bi-east, 
 6 
 
122 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 In tho dounr to which they were conducted were lads aa 
 old as thoy, and lasses too, without the semblauce of clothing 
 upon their nude bodies; not even a shirt, — not even the 
 orientally zamed fig-leaf ! 
 
 The reason of their being allowed to retain their homely 
 garments had notliing to do with any sentiment of delicacy. 
 For the favor, — if such it coidd be called, — they were 
 simply indebted to the avarice of the old sheik, who, hav- 
 ing recovered from the stunning effects of his tumble, 
 claimed all three as his captives, and their shirts along ivith 
 them ! 
 
 His claim as to their persons was not disputed ; they were 
 his by Saaran custom. So, too, would their clothing, had his 
 capture been complete ; but as there was a question about 
 this, a distribution of the garments had been demanded and 
 acceded to. 
 
 The sheik, however, would not agree to giving up the 
 shirts ; loudly declaring that they belonged to the skin ; and 
 after some discussion on this moot point, his claim was al- 
 lowed ; and our adventurers were spared the shame of enter- 
 ing the Arab encampment in puris naturalibus. 
 
 In their shirts did they once more stand fa^e lo face with 
 Sailor Bill, not a bit better clad than they : for though the 
 old man-o'-war's-man was still " anchored " by the marquee 
 of the black sheik, his " toggery " had long before been dis- 
 tributed throughout the douar ; and scarce a tent but con- 
 tained some portion of his " belongings." 
 
 His youthful comrades saw, but were not permitted to 
 approach him. They were the undisputed property of the 
 rival chieftain, — to whose tent they were taken ; but not 
 untU they had " run a muck " among the women and chil- 
 dren, very similai- to that which Bill had to submit to him- 
 self. It terminated in a similar manner : that is, by their 
 owner taking them under his protection, — not from any 
 motives of humanity, but simply to save his property from 
 
THE CAPTIVES IK CONVERSATION. J 23 
 
 receiving damage at the hands of the incarnate female furies, 
 who seemed to take delight in maltreating them ! 
 
 The old sheik, after allowing his fair followers, with their 
 juvenile neophites, for some length of time to indulge in 
 their customary mode of saluting strange captives, with- 
 drew the latter beyond the reach of persecution, to a place 
 assigned them under the shadow of his tent. There, with 
 a sinewy Arab standing over them, — though as often 
 squatted beside them, — they were permitted to pass the 
 remainder of the night, if not in sleep at least in a stata 
 of tranquillity. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE CAPTIVES IN CONVERSATION. 
 
 THIS tranquillity only related to any disturbance expe 
 rienced from their captors. There was none. 
 
 These had been on the eve of striking their tents, and 
 moving off to some other oasis, — previous to the last inci- 
 dent that had arisen. 
 
 As already stated, the two sheiks, by a mutual under- 
 standing, had been about to shake hands, and separate,— 
 the son of Japhet going north, to the markets of Morocco, 
 while the descendant of Ham was to face homeward to his 
 more tropical and appropriate clime, — under the skies of 
 Timbuctoo. 
 
 The "windfall" that had so unexpectedly dropped iiito 
 the douar; first in the shape of Sailor Bill, — and after- 
 wards, in more generous guise, by the capture of the three 
 "young gentlemen" of the gunroom, — ha4 caused som» 
 change in the plans of their captors. 
 
124 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 By mutual understanding between the two sheiks, some 
 thing was to be done in the morning ; and their design of 
 separating was deferred to another day. 
 
 The order to strike tents had been countermanded : and 
 both tribes retired to rest, — as soon as the captives had 
 been disposed of for the night. 
 
 The douar was silent, — so far as the children of Ham 
 and Japhet were concerned. Even their children had ceased 
 to clamor and squall. 
 
 At intervals might be heard the neigh of a Barbary 
 horse, the barking of a dog, the bleating of a goat, or a 
 sound yet more appropriate to the scene, the snorting of a 
 maherry. 
 
 In addition to these, human voices were heard. But they 
 proceeded from the throats of the sons of Shem. For the 
 most part they were uttered in a low tone, as the three mid- 
 shipmen conversed seriously and earnestly together ; but 
 occasionally they became elevated to a higher pitch, when 
 Sailor Bill, guarded on the opposite side of the encampment 
 — took part in the conversation, and louder speech was 
 necessary to the interchange of thought between him and 
 his fellow-captives. 
 
 The Arab watchers offered no interruption. They under- 
 stood not a word of what was being said, and so long as the 
 conversation of their captives did not disturb the douar, they 
 paid no heed to it. 
 
 " What have they done to you. Bill ? " was the first ques- 
 tion asked by the new comers, after they had been left 
 free to make inquiries. 
 
 " Falx ! " responded the sailor, for it was Terry who had 
 put the interrogatory: "iverything they cowl J think av — • 
 iverything to make an old salt as uncomfortable as can be. 
 They 've not left a sound bone in my body ; nor a spot on 
 my skin that 's not ayther pricked or scratched wid thaf 
 cruel th.rns. My carcass must be like an old seventy-foui 
 
THE CAPTIVES IN CONVERSATION. 12d 
 
 after comin' out av action — as full av holes as a .neal 
 sieve." 
 
 " But what did they do to you, Bill ? " said Colin, almost 
 literally repeating the interrogatory of Terence. 
 
 The sailor detailed his experiences since entering the en- 
 campment. 
 
 " It 's very clear," remarked the young Scotchman, " that 
 we need look for nothing but ill-treatment at the hands of 
 these worse than savages. I suppose they intend making 
 slaves of us." 
 
 " That at least," quietly aspented Harry. 
 
 " Sartin," said the sailor. " They 've let me know as much 
 a'ready. There be two captains to their crew ; one 's the 
 smoke-dried old sinner as brought yer in ; the other a big 
 nayger, as black as the ace o' spades. You saw the swab ? 
 He 's inside the tent here. He 's my master. The two 
 came nigh quarrelling about which should have me, and set- 
 tled it by some sort o' a game they played wi' balls of kay- 
 mal's dung. The black won me ; an' that 's why I 'm kep 
 by his tent. Mother av Moses ! Only to think of a British 
 tar being the slave o' a sooty nayger ! I never thought it 
 wud a come to this." 
 
 " Where do you think they '11 take us, Bill ? " 
 
 " The Lord only knows, an' whether we 're all bound fot 
 the same port." 
 
 " What ! you think we may be separated ? " 
 
 " Be ma sang, Maister Colin, I ha'e ma fears we wull ! " 
 
 " What makes you think so ? " 
 
 " Why, ye see, as I 've telt ye, I 'm booked to ship wi' the 
 black, — ' sheik ' I 've heerd them ca' him. Well : from 
 what I ha'e seed and heerd, there 's nae doot they 're gaein' 
 to separate an' tak different roads. I didna ken muckle o' 
 what they sayed, but I could mak oot two words I hae often 
 heerd while cruisin' in the Gulf o' Guinea. They are the 
 names o' two great toons, a lang way up the kiutry, — Tim 
 
126 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 buctoo and Sockatoo. They are negro toons ; an' for thai 
 reezun I ha'e a suspeshun my master 's bound to one or oth- 
 er o' the two ports." 
 
 "But why do you think that we are to be taken else- 
 where ? " demanded Harry Blount. 
 
 " Why, because, ^Master 'Arry, you belong to the hold 
 Bheik, as is plainly a Harab, an' oose port of hentry lies in a 
 different direction, — that be to the ncrthart." 
 
 " It is all Ukely enough," said Colin ; " Bill's prognostica- 
 tion is but too probable." 
 
 "Why, ye see, Maister Colin, they are only land sharks 
 who ha'e got hold o' us. They 're too poor to keep us ; an' 
 wull be sure to sell us somewhere, an' to somebody that ha'e 
 got the tocher to gie for us. That 's what they '11 do wi' U3 
 poor bodies." 
 
 " I hope," said Terence, " they '11 not part us. No doubt 
 slavery will be hard enough to bear under any circumstan 
 ces ; but harder if we have to endure it alone. Together, 
 we might do something to alleviate one another's lot. I 
 hope we shall not be separated ! " 
 
 To this hope all the others made a sincere response ; and 
 the conversation came to an end. They who had been car- 
 rying it on, worn out by fatigue, and watchfulness long pro- 
 tracted, — despite the unpleasantness of their situation,— 
 Boon after, and simultaneously, yielded their spirits to th« 
 toothing oblivion of sleep. 
 
THE DOUAR AT DAWN. 127 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE DOUAR AT DAWN. 
 
 ri^HEY could have slept for hours, — twentj-'four oi 
 
 i them, — had they beeh permitted such indulgence. 
 
 But they were not. As the first streaks of daylight be- 
 came visible over the eastern horizon, the whole douar waa 
 up and doing. 
 
 The women and children of both hordes were seen flitting 
 like shadows among the tents. Some squatted under cam- 
 els, or kneeling by the sides of the goats, drew from these 
 animals that lacteal fluid that may be said to form the sta- 
 ple of their food. Others might be observed emptying the 
 precious liquid into skin bottles and sacks, and securing it 
 against spilling in its transport through the deserts. 
 
 The matrons of the tribes — hags Ihey looked — were 
 preparing the true dejeuner, consisting of Sangleh, — a sort of 
 gruel, made with millet meal, boiled over a dull fire of cam- 
 el's dung. 
 
 The Sangleh was to be eaten, by such of them as could af- 
 ford it, mixed with goats' or camels' milk, — unstrained and 
 hairy, — half curdled into a crab-like acidity, the moment it 
 entered its stinking receptacle. 
 
 Here and there men were seen milking their mares or 
 mahemes, — not a few indulging in the universal beverage 
 by a direct application of their lips to the teats of the ani- 
 mal ; while others, appointed to the task, were preparing the 
 paraphernalia of the douar, for transportation to some distant 
 oasis. 
 
 Watching these various movements, were the three mids, 
 — still stripped to their shirts, — and the old man-o*-war's- 
 man, clad with like scantiness ; since the only garment that 
 clung to hio sinewy frame was a pair of cotton drawer?. aei« 
 ther very clean nor very sound at the seams. 
 
1^8 THE BOY SLAVES 
 
 All four shivered in the chill air of the morning ; for hot 
 as is the Saiira jnder its noonday sun, in the night houra 
 its thermometer frequently falls almost to the point of freez- 
 ing ! 
 
 Their state of discomfort did not hinder them from ob- 
 serving what was pas-ing around them. They could have 
 slept on ; but the discordant noises of the douar, and a be- 
 lief that they would not be permitted any longer to enjoy 
 their interrupted slumbers, hindered them from reclosing 
 their eyes. Still recumbent, and occasionally exchanging 
 remarks in a low tone of voice, they noted the customs of 
 their captors. 
 
 The young Scotchman had read many books relating to 
 the prairies of America, and their savage denizens. He 
 was forcibly reminded of these by what he now saw in 
 this oasis of the sandy Saara ; the women treated like dogs, 
 or worse, — doing all the work that might be termed labor, 
 " — tending the cattle, cooking the meals, pitching or striking 
 the tents, loading the animals, — and themselves bearing 
 such portions of the load as exceeded the transport strength 
 of the tribal quadrupeds, — aided only by such wretched 
 helots as misfortune had flung in the way of their common 
 masters. The men, mostly idle, — ludicrously nonchalant, — 
 reclining on their saddle-pads, or skins, inhaling the narcotic 
 weed, apparently proud in the possession of that lordship of 
 wretchedness that surrounded them. 
 
 Colin was constrained to compare the savage life of two 
 continents, separated by an ocean. He came to the conclu- 
 sion, that under similar circumstances, mankind will ever be 
 the same. In the Comanche of the Llano Esfacado, or the 
 Pawnee of the Platte, he would have found an exact coun- 
 terpart of the Ishmaelitish wanderer over the sandy plains 
 01 the Sailra. 
 
 He was allowed but scant time to philosophize upon these 
 ethnolog'.ctd phenomena. As the douar became stirre:<l int« 
 
AN OBSTINATE DROMEDARY. 129 
 
 general activity, he, along with his two companions, was 
 rudely started from his attitude of observation, and ordered 
 to take a share in the toils of the captors. 
 
 At an earlier hour, and still more rudely, had Sailor Bill 
 received the commands of his master ; who, as the first rays 
 of the Aurora began to dapple the horizon, had ordered the 
 old man-o-war's-man to his feet, at the same time adminis- 
 tering to him a cruel kick, that came very near shivering 
 some of his stern timbers. 
 
 Had the black sheik been acquainted with the English 
 language, — as spoken in Rateliff Highway, — he would 
 have better understood Sailor Bill's reply to his rude matu- 
 tinal salutation ; which, along with several not very compli- 
 mentary wishes, ended by devoting the " nayger's " eyes to 
 eternal perdition. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 AN OBSTINATE DROMEDARY. 
 
 ri^HE morning meal was eaten as soon as prepared. Its 
 i scantiness surprised our adventurers. Even the 
 more distinguished individuals of the horde partook of only 
 a very small quantity of milk, or sangleh. The two sheiks 
 ftlone got anything like what might have been deemed an 
 ordinary breakfast ; while the more common class, as the 
 half-breeds — hassanes — and the negro slaves had to con- 
 tent themselves with less than a pint of sour milk to each, 
 half of which was water — the mixture denominated cJieni. 
 
 Could this meal be meant for breakfast ? Harry Blount 
 and Terence thought not. But Colin corrected them, by 
 alleging that it was. He had read of the wonderful ab- 
 6* I 
 
130 THE BOY SLA\nt:S. 
 
 stemiousness of these children of the desert : hoAv they can 
 live on a single meal a day, and tills scarce sufficient to sus- 
 tain life in a child of six years old ; that is, an English child 
 Often will they go for several successive days without eating 
 and when they do eat regularly, a drink of milk is all they 
 require to sati.-fy hunger. 
 
 Colin was right. It was their ordinary breakfast. He 
 might have added, their dinner too, for they would not likely 
 obtain another morsel of food before sundown. 
 
 But where was the breakfast of Colin and his fellow-cap- 
 tives ? This was the question that interested them for more 
 than the dietary of the Bedouins. They were all hungering 
 like hyenas, and yet no one seemed to think of them — no 
 one offered them either bite or sup. Filthy as was the mess 
 made by the Arab women, and filthily as they prepared 
 it, — boiling it in pots, and serving it up in wooden dishes, 
 that did not appear to have had a washing for weeks, — the 
 sight of it increased the hungry cravings of the captives ; 
 and they would fain have been permitted to share the scanty 
 dejeuner. 
 
 They made signs of their desire ; piteous appeals for food, 
 by looks and gestures ; but all in vain : not a morsel was 
 bestowed on them. Their brutal captors only laughed at 
 them, as though they intended that all four should go with- 
 out eating. 
 
 it soon became clear that they were not to starve in idle- 
 ness. As seon as they had been started to their feet each 
 of them W3S set to a task ; one to collect camels' dung for 
 the cooking fires ; another to fetch water from the brackish 
 Qiuddy pool wMch had caused tlie oasis to become a place 
 of encampment ; while the third was called upon to assist 
 in the loading of the tent equipage, along with the salvage 
 of the wreck, — an operation entered upon as soon as the 
 gangleh had been swallowed. 
 
 Sailoi Bill, in a different pai't of the douar, was kepj 
 
AN OBSTINATE DROMEDARY. 131 
 
 equally upon tlic alert : and if he, or any of the other three, 
 showed signs of disliking their respc>ctive tasks, one of the 
 two sheiks made little ado about striking them with a leath- 
 ern strap, a knotty stick, or any weapon that clianced to 
 f.ome readiest to hand. They soon discovered that they 
 were under the government of taskmasters not to be trifled 
 with, and that resistance or remonstrance would be alike fu- 
 tile. In short, they saw that they were slaves ! 
 
 While packing the tents, and otherwise preparing for the 
 march, they were witnesses to many customs, curious as new 
 to them. The odd equipages of the animals, — both those 
 of burden and those intended to be ridden, — the oval pan- 
 niers, placed upon the backs of the camels, to carry the wom- 
 en and younger chihlren ; the square pads upon the humps 
 of the maherries ; the tawny little piccaninnies strapped 
 upon the backs of their mothers ; the kneeling of the cam- 
 els to receive their loads, — as if consenting to what could 
 not be otherwise than disagreeable to them, — were all 
 sights that miglit have greatly uitei-ested our adventurers, 
 had they been viewing them under diflerent circumstances. 
 
 Out of the last mentioned of these sights, an incident 
 arose, illustrating the craft of their captors in the maaage- 
 ment of their domestic animals. 
 
 A refractory camel, that, according to usual habit, had 
 voluntarily humiliated itself to receive its load, after this 
 had been packed upon it, refused to rise to its feet. The 
 beast either deemed the burden inequable and unjust, — for 
 the Arabian camel, like the Peruvian llama, has a very 
 acute perception of fair play in tliis respect, — or a fit of 
 caprice had entered its mulish head. For one reason or an- 
 other it exhibited a stern determination not to oblige its 
 owner by rising to its feet ; but continued its gjnuflexion in 
 spite of every effort to get it on all-fours. 
 
 Coaxing and cajolery were tried to no purpose. Kicking 
 by sandalled feet, scourging with whips, and beating witb 
 
132 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 cudgels produced no better effect ; and to all appearance th« 
 obstiuate brute had made up its mind to remain in the oasis 
 and let the tribe depart without it. 
 
 At this crisis an ingenious method of making the camel 
 diange its mind suggested itself to its master ; or perhaps he 
 had practised it on some former occasion. Maddened by the 
 obstinacy of the animal, he seized hold of an old burnouse, 
 and rushing up, threw it over its head. Then drawing the 
 rag tightly around its snout, he fastened it in such a manner 
 as completely to stop up the nostrils. 
 
 The camel finding its breathing thus suddenly interrupted, 
 became terrified ; and without further loss of time, scram- 
 bled to its feet — to the great amusement of the women and 
 children who were spectators of the scene. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 WATERING THE CAMELS. 
 
 IN an incredibly short space of time the tents were down, 
 and the douar with all its belongings was no longer to be 
 seen ; or only in the shape of sundry packages balanced 
 upon the backs of the animals. 
 
 The last operation before striking out upon the desert 
 track, was the watering of these ; the supply for the journey 
 having been already dipped up out of the pool, and poured 
 into goat-skin sacks. 
 
 The watering of the camels appeared to be regarded as 
 the most imjjortant matter of all. In this performance 
 evej V precaution was taken, and every attention bestowed, 
 tw e sure to the animals a full supply of the precious fiuid, 
 — r- fhaps from a preseutiment on the part of their owner« 
 
WATERING THE CAMELS. 133 
 
 tTiat they themselves might some day stand in need of, and 
 make use of, the saine water ! 
 
 Whether this was the motive or not, every camel belong*- 
 uig to the horde was compelled to drink till its capacious 
 stomach was quite full ; and the quantity consumed by each 
 would be mcredible to any other than the owner of an Afri- 
 can dromsdary. Only a very large cask could have con- 
 tained it. 
 
 At the watering of the animals, our adventurers had an 
 opportunity of observing anotlier incident of the Saiira,— 
 quite as curious and original as that already described. 
 
 It chanced that the pool that fm-ni^hed the precious fluid, 
 and which contained the only fresh water to be found witliia 
 fifty miles, was just then on the eve of being dried up. A 
 long season of drought — that is to say, three or four years 
 — had reigned over this particular portion of the desert, 
 and the lagoon, formerly somewhat extensive, had shrunk 
 into the dimensions of a trifling tank, containing Uttle more 
 than two or three hundred gallons. This, during the stay 
 of the two tribes united as wreckers, had been daily dimin- 
 ishing ; and had the occupants of the douar not struck tents 
 at the time they did, in another day or so they would have 
 been in danger of suffering from thirst. This was in reality 
 the cause of their projected migration. But for the fear of 
 getting short in the necessary commodity of fresh water, 
 they would have hugged the seashore a little longer, ia 
 hopes of picking up a few more " waifs " from the wreck of 
 the English ship. 
 
 At the hour of their departure from the encampment, the 
 pool was on the eve of exhaustion. Only a few score gal- 
 lons of not very pure water remained in it — about enough 
 to fill the capacious stomachs of the camels ; whose ownera 
 bad gauged them too often to be ignorant of the quantity. 
 
 It would not do to play with this closely calculated 3up- 
 l»ly. Every pint was precious; and to prove that it waa 
 
134 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 60 esteemed, the animals were constrained to swallow it m a 
 fashion, which certainly nature could never have intended. 
 
 Instead of taking it in by the mouth, the camels of thes* 
 Saiiran rovers were compelled to quench their thirst through 
 the nostrils! 
 
 You will wonder in what manner this could be effected? 
 inquiring whether the quadrupeds voluntarily performed this 
 ■nasal imbibing? 
 
 Our adventurers, witnesses of the fact, wondered also — 
 while struck with its quaint peculiarity. 
 
 There is a proverb that " one man may take a horse to 
 the water, but twenty cannot compel liim to drink." Though 
 this proverb may hold good of an English horse, it has no 
 eignilicance when applied to an African dromedary. Proof. 
 Our adventurers saw the owner of each camel bring hia 
 animal to the edge of the pool ; but instead of permitting 
 the thirsty creature to step in and drink for itself, its head 
 was held aloft, a wooden funnel was iilled, the narrow end 
 inserted into the nostril, and by the respiratory canal the 
 water introduced to the throat and stomach ! 
 
 You may ask, why this selection of the nostrils instead 
 of the mouth? Our adventurers so interrogated one an- 
 other. It was only after becoming better acquainted with 
 the customs of the Saiira that they acquired a satisfactory 
 explanation of one they had frequent occasion to observe. 
 
 Tliough ordinarily of the most docile disposition, and in 
 most of its movements the most tranquil of creatures, the 
 dromedary, when drinking from a vessel, has the habit of 
 repeatedly shaking its head, and spilling large quantities of 
 the water placed before it. Where water is scarce, — and, 
 as in the Saiira, considered the most momentous matter of 
 life, — a waste of it after such a fashion could not be toleiv 
 ated. To prevent it, therefore, the camel-owner has con- 
 nived that Uiis animal, so essential to his own safe existence, 
 should drink through the orifices intended by nature for its 
 respiration. 
 
A SQUABBLE BETWEEN THE SHEIKS. 135 
 
 CHAPTER XL I. 
 
 A SQl'ABBLE BETWEEN THE SHEIKS. 
 
 THE process of watering the camels was carried on with 
 the utmost diligence and care. It was too important 
 to be trifled with, or negligently performed. While filling 
 the capacious stomachs of the quadrupeds, their owners were 
 but laying in a stock for themselves. 
 
 As Sailor Bill jocularly remarked, " it was like filling the 
 water-casks of a man-of-war previous to weighing anchor 
 for a voyage." In truth, very similar was the purpose for 
 which these ships of the desert were being supplied ; foi, 
 when filling the capacious stomachs of the quadrupeds, their 
 owners were not without the reflection that the supply might 
 yet pass into their own. Such a contingency was not im- 
 probable, neither would it be new. 
 
 For this reason the operation was conducted with dili- 
 gence and care, — no camel being led away from the pool 
 until it was supposed to have had a " surfeit," and this point 
 was settled by seeing the water poured in at its nostrils Tur- 
 ning out at its mouth. 
 
 As each in turn got filled, it was taken back to the tribe 
 to which it belonged ; for the united hordes had by this time 
 become separated into two distinct parties, preparatory to 
 starting off on their respective routes. 
 
 Our adventurers could now perceive a marked difference 
 between the two bands of Saara wanderers into whose hands 
 they had unfortunately fallen. As already stated, the black 
 Bheik was an African of the true negro type, with thick lips, 
 flattened nostrils, woolly hair, and heels projecting several 
 inches to the rear of his ankle-joints. Most of his following 
 were similarly ' furnished," though not all of them. There 
 were a few of mixed color, with straight hair, and featurei 
 
135 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 almost Caucasian, who submitted to his rule, or rather to hi» 
 ownership, since these last all appeared to be his slaves. 
 
 Those who trooped after the ohl Arab were mostly of hia 
 own race, mixed with a remnant of mongrel Portuguese, — 
 descendants of the peninsular colonists who had tied from 
 the coast settlements after the conquest of Morocco by the 
 victorious " Sheriffs." 
 
 Of such mixed races are the tribes who thinly people the 
 Sajira, — Arabs, Berbers, Ethiopians of every hue; al' 
 equally Bedoweens, — wanderers of the pathless deserts. 
 It did not escape the observation of our adventurers that 
 the slaves of the Arab sheik and his followers were mostly 
 pure negroes from the south, while those of the black chief- 
 tain, — as proclaimed by the color of their skin, — showed 
 a Shemitic or Japhetic origin. The philosophic Colin could 
 perceive in this a silent evidence of the retribution of races. 
 
 The supply of water being at length laid in, not only in 
 the skins appropriated to the purpose, but also within the 
 stomachs of the camels, the two tribes seemed prepared to 
 exchange with each other the parting salute, — to speak the 
 " Peace be with you ! " And yet there was something that 
 caused them to Unger in each other's proximity. Their 
 new-made captives could tell this, though ignorant of what 
 it might be. 
 
 It was something that had yet to be settled between the 
 two sheiks, who did not appear at this moment of leave-tak- 
 ing to entertain for each other any very cordial sentiment 
 of friendship. 
 
 Could their thoughts have found expression in English 
 words, they would have taken shape somewhat as follows : — 
 
 " That lubberly nigger," (we are pursuing the train of re- 
 flections that passed through the mind of the Arab sheik,) 
 ^old Nick burn him! — thinks I've got more than my share 
 of this lucky windfall. He wants these boys bad, — 1 know 
 that. The Sultan of Timbuctoo has given him a commis- 
 
A SQUABBLE BETWEEN THE SHEIKS. 13i 
 
 sion to procure white slaves, — that's clear ; and boy slaves 
 if lie can, — that 's equally certain. This lot would suit him 
 to a T. I can tell that he don't care much tor the old salt 
 he has tricked me out of by his superior skill at that silly 
 game of helga. No ; His Majesty of the mud-walled city 
 don't want sucli as him. It's boys he 's after, — as can wait 
 smartly at his royal table, and give eclat to his ceremonial 
 e itertaiuments. Well, he can have these three at a pi-ice" 
 
 " Ay, but a big price," continued the cunning old trafficker 
 in human Hesh, after a short reflection, " a woppuig big 
 pvit e. The togs we 've stripped from them were no common 
 clothing. Good broadcloth in their jackets, and bullion 
 bands on their caps. They must be the sons of great 
 sheiks. At Wedmoon the old Jew will redeem them. So, 
 too, the merchants at Suse ; or maybe 1 had best take them 
 on to JMogadoi", where the consul of their country will come 
 down handsomely for such as they. Yes, that 's the trick ! " 
 
 At this parting scene the thoughts of Fatima's husband 
 were equally occupied with trading speculations, in which ha 
 was assisted by the amiable Fatiraa herself. 
 
 Translated also into English, they would have read aa 
 follows : — 
 
 "The Sultan would give threescore of his best blacks for 
 those three tripe-colored brats." 
 
 " I know it, Fatty dear ; he 's told me so himself." 
 
 " Then why not get them, and biing 'em along? " 
 
 " Ah, that 's easy to say. How can I ? You know they 
 belong to the old Arab by right, — at least, he claims tliem, 
 though not very fixirly, for if we had n't come up in good time 
 they would have taken him instead of his taking thesn ; no 
 matter for that, they 're his now l)y the laws of the Saara. 
 
 " Bother the laws of the Satira ! " exclaimed Fatima, with 
 a disdainful toss of her head, and a scornful turnuig up of 
 her two protruding teeth ; " all stuff and nonsense ! There 'a 
 no law in the Saara ; and if th.ere was, you know we 're 
 
138 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 never coming into it again. The price you 'd get for those 
 three hobbledehoys would keep us comfortable for the bal- 
 ance of our lives ; and we need never truck the Devil's Des- 
 ert again. Take 'em by force from old Yellow-face, if you 
 can 't get 'em otherwise ; but you may ' chouse ' him out of 
 them at a game of helga, — you know you can beat him at 
 that. If he won 't play again, try your hand at bargaining 
 against your blacks ; offer him two to one." 
 
 Thus counselled by the partner of his bosom, the black 
 sheik, instead of bidding the saleik ahum to his Arab con- 
 frere, raised his voice aloud, and demanded from the latte» a 
 parley upon business of importance. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE TKIO STAKED. 
 
 THE parley that followed was of course unintelligible 
 to our adventurers, the Boy Slaves. 
 
 But although they did not understand the words that 
 were exchanged between the two sheiks, they were not 
 without having a conjecture as to their import. The ges- 
 tures made by the two men, and their looks cast frequently 
 towards themselves, led them to believe that the conversa- 
 tion related to their transference from one to the otlier. 
 
 Tliere was not much to choose between the two masters. 
 Both api)eared to be unfeeling savages, and so far had 
 treated their captives with much cruelty. They could only 
 hope, in case of a transfer taking place, that it would not be 
 partial, but would extend to the trio, and that they would 
 be kept togetlier. Thoy had been already aware that old 
 Bill was to bo parti'd *hnn them, and this had caused lh(;iu 
 
THE TEIO STAKED. 139 
 
 a painful feeling ; but to be themselves sepaiAtecl, per- 
 haps never to meet again, was a thought still more dis- 
 tressing. 
 
 The three youths had long been shipmates, — ever since 
 entering the naval service of their country. Thoy had be- 
 come fast friends ; and believed that whatever might be the 
 fate before them, they could better bear it in each other's 
 company. Companionship would at least enable them to 
 cheer one another ; mutual sympatliy would, to some extent, 
 alleviate the hardest lot ; while alone, and under such cruel 
 taskmasters, the prospect was ghiomy in the extreme. 
 
 With feelings of keen anxiety, therefore, did tliey listen 
 to the palaver, and watch the countenances of their captors. 
 
 After a full half-hour spent in loud talking and gesticulat- 
 ing, some arrangement appeared to have been arrived at be- 
 tween the two sheiks. Those most interested in it could 
 only guess what it was by what followed. 
 
 Silence having been partially restored, the old Arab was 
 seen to step up to the spot where the slaves of the black 
 sheik were assembled ; and, after carefully scrutinizing them, 
 pick out three of the stoutest, plumpest, and healthiest young 
 negroes in the gang. These were separated from the others, 
 and placed on the plain some distance apart. 
 
 " We 're to be exchanged," muttered Teience, " we 're to 
 belong to the ugly black nagur. Well, perhaps it 's better 
 We '11 be with old Bill." 
 
 *' Stay a wee," said Colin ; " there 's something more to 
 ••ome yet, I think." 
 
 The black sheik at this moment coming up, mterruptcd 
 the cotiversation of tlie captives. 
 
 What was he going to do ? Take them with him, they 
 supposed. The old Arab had himself If^d out the three 
 young " darkies " ; and the black sheik was about to act 
 in like manner with the trio of white captives. 
 
 So reasoned they ; and, as it was » matter of indilTerencg 
 
140 THE BOY SLA\T;S. 
 
 to them with wliich they went, they would offer no oi)p» 
 sitiou. 
 
 To their chagrin, however, instead of all three, only one 
 of them was led off; the othe" two being commanded by ^eS' 
 tures to keep their ground. 
 
 It was O'Connor to whom this partiality was shown r tha 
 black sheik having selected him after a short while sp«nt ik 
 scrutinizing and comparing the three. The Irish youth waa 
 of stouter build than either of his shipmates ; and this, per- 
 haps, guided the black sheik in making his choice. By all 
 appearances, the conditions of the exchange were to be dif- 
 ferent from what our adventurers had anticipated. It was 
 not to be man for man, or boy for boy ; but three for one, — 
 three blacks to a white. 
 
 This was, in reality, the terms that had been agreed up- 
 on. The avaricious old Arab, not caring very much to part 
 with his share of the spoil, would not take less than three 
 to one ; and to this the black sheik, after long and loud bar- 
 gaining, had consented. 
 
 Terence was led up, and placed alongside the three 
 young darkies, who, instead of taking things as seriously as 
 he, were exhibiting their ivories in broad grins of laughter, 
 as if the disposal of their persons was an affair to be treated 
 only as a joke ! 
 
 Our adventurers were now apprehensive that they were 
 to be separated. Their only hope was that the bargaining 
 would not end there ; but would extend to a further exchange 
 of six blacks for the two remaining whites. 
 
 Their conjectures were interrupted by their seeing that 
 the " swop " was not yet considered complete. 
 
 "What followed, in fact, showed them that it was not a 
 regular trade at all ; but a little bit of gambling between the 
 two sheiks, in which Terence and the three young blacksi 
 were to be the respective stakes. 
 
 Old Bill was able to explain the proceedings, from his ex- 
 
THE TRIO STAKED. 141 
 
 perieiLce of the preceding night; and as he saw the two 
 Bheiks repair to the place where bis own proprietorship had 
 been decided, he cried out : — 
 
 " Yere goin' to be gambled for, Masther Terry ! Och ! 
 ye'll be along wid me, — for the black can bate the owld 
 Arab at that game, all hollow." 
 
 The holes in which the helga had been played on the pre- 
 ceding night were now resorted to. The proper number of 
 dung pellets were procured, and the game proceeded. 
 
 It ended as the old man-o'-war's-man. had prognosticated, 
 by the black sheik becoming the winner and owner of Ter- 
 ence O'Connor. 
 
 The Arab appeared sadly chagrined, and by the way in 
 which he strutted and stormed over the ground, it was evi- 
 dent he would not rest satisfied with his loss. When did 
 gamester ever leave gaming-table so long as a stake was left 
 him to continue the play ? 
 
 Two of the midshipmen still belonged to the old sheik. 
 With these he might obtain a revanche. He made the trial. 
 He was unfortunate, as before. Either the luck was against 
 him, or he was no match at " desert di-aughts " for hia sable 
 antagonist. 
 
 It ended in the black sheik becoramg the owner of the 
 three midshipmen, who, restored to the companionship of 
 Sailor Bill, in less than twenty minutes after the conclusion 
 of the game, were trudging it across the desert in the di 
 rectioc cf Timbuctoo! 
 
142 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 IN their journey over the sea of sand, our four adven- 
 turers formed part of a company of sixteen men and 
 women, along with six or seven children. 
 
 All were the property of one man, — the huge and dusky 
 sheik who had won Sailor Bill and the three middies at 
 " desert draughts." 
 
 It soon became known to his white captives that his name 
 was Golah, a name which Terence suggested might probably 
 be an African abbreviation of the ancient name of Goliah. 
 
 Golah was certainly a great man, — not in bone and flesh 
 alone, but in intellect as well. 
 
 We do not claim for him the gigantic mind that by arrang- 
 ing a few figures and symbols, by the light of a lamp in a 
 garret, could discover a new planet in the solar system, and 
 give its dimensions, weight, and distance from the dome of 
 St. Paul's. Neither do we claim that the power of his in- 
 tellect, if put forth in a storm of eloquence, could move the 
 masses of his fellow-creatures, as a hurricane stirs up the 
 waters of the sea ; yet for all this Golah had a great intel- 
 lect. He was born to rule, and not a particle of all the pro- 
 pensities and sentiments constituting his mind was ever in 
 tended to yield to the will of another. 
 
 The cunning old sheik, who had the first claim to the 
 three mids, had been anxious to retain tliem ; but they were 
 also v/anted by Golah, and the Arab was compelled to give 
 them up, after having been fairly beaten at the game ; part- 
 ing witli his -sable competitor in a mood that was anything 
 but a_greeal)le. 
 
 Tlie black sheik had three wives, all of whom possessed 
 the gift of eloquence in a high degree. 
 
GOLAH. 143 
 
 For all ihiis a simple glance from him was enough to stop 
 Any one of them in the middle of a monosyllable. 
 
 Even Fatima, the favorite, owed much of her influence to 
 the ability she displayed in studying her lord's wishes to the. 
 neglect of her own. 
 
 Golah had seven camels, four of whicli were required foi 
 carrying himself and his wives, with their children, trap- 
 pings, tent utensils, and tenis. 
 
 The three other camels were lader with the spoils which 
 had been collected from the wreck. 
 
 Twelve of the sixteen adults in the company were com* 
 pelled to walk, being forced to keep up with the camels the 
 best way tliey could. 
 
 One of these was Golah's son, a youth about eighteen 
 years of age. He was armed with a long INIoorish musket, 
 a heavy Spanish sword, and the dirk that had been taken 
 from Colin. 
 
 He was the principal guard over the slaves, in which duty 
 he was assisted by another youth, whom our adventurers 
 afterwards learnt was a brother of one of Golah's wives. 
 
 This second youth was armed with a musket and scimitar, 
 and botli he and Golah's son seemed to tliink that their lives 
 depended on keeping a constant watch over the ten slaves ; 
 for there were six others besides Sailor Bill and his young 
 companions. They had all been captured, purchased, or 
 won at play, during Golah's present expedition, and were 
 now on the way to some southern market. 
 
 Two of the six were pronounced by Sailor Bill to be 
 Kroomen, — a race of Africans with whose appearance he 
 was somewhat familiar, having often seen them acting as 
 Bailors m ships coming from the African coast. 
 
 The other slaves were much lighter in complexion, and 
 by the old man-o'-war's-man were called " Portugee blacks." 
 All had the appearance of having spent some time in bond- 
 age on the great Saara. 
 
144 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 On the first day of their journey the white captives had 
 learnt the relations existing between the majority of the 
 company and the chii-f Golah ; and each of them felt shame 
 as well as indignation at the humiliating position in which 
 he was placed. 
 
 Those feelings were partly excited and greatly strength- 
 ened by hunger and thirst, as well as by the painful toil they 
 had to undergo in dragging themselves over the sandy plain 
 beneath a scorching sun. 
 
 " I have had enough of this," said Harry Blount to hia 
 companions. " We might be able to stand it several days 
 longer, but I 've no curiosity to learn whether we can oi 
 not." 
 
 " Go on ! you are thinking and speaking for me, Harry,'' 
 said Terence. 
 
 "There are four of us," continued Harry, — "four of 
 that nation whose people boast they never will he slaves ; be- 
 sides, there are six others, who are our fellow-bondsmen. 
 They 're not much to look at, but still they might count for 
 something in a row. Shall we four British tars, belong to 
 a party of ten, — all enslaved by three men, — black men 
 at that?" 
 
 " That 's just what I 've been thinking about for the last 
 hour or two," said Terence. " If we don't kill old Golah, 
 and ride off with his camels, we deserve to pass every day 
 of our lives as we 're doing this one — in slavery." 
 
 '♦Just say the word, — when and how," cried Harry 
 *' I 'm waiting. There are seven camels. Let us each take 
 one ; but before we go we must eat and drink the other throe, 
 I 'm starving." 
 
 " Pitch on a plan, and I '11 pitch into it," rejoined Terence. 
 "I'm ready for anything, — from pitch and toss up to man- 
 Blaughter." 
 
 " Stay, Master Terence," interrupted the old sailor. " Av 
 eoorse ye are aither wantiu' to do soinethin', au' thin to think 
 
fiOLAH. 143 
 
 oftherwards why ye did it. Aitj, my lad, yer half out o 
 yer mind. Master Colin be the only yin o' ye that keeps 
 his seven senses about him. Suppose all av ye, that the 
 big cliief was dead, an' that his son was not alive, and that 
 the other nager was a ristin' quietly wid his black heela 
 turned from the place where the daisies bought to grow, — 
 what should we do thin ? We 'ave neyther chart nor com- 
 pass. We could'ner mak oot our reckonin'. Don't ye see a 
 voyage here is just like one at sea, only it be just the re- 
 vurse. When men are starvin' at sea, they want to find 
 land, but when they are starvin' in the desert they want to 
 find water. The big nager, our captain, can navigate this 
 sea in safety, — we can't. We must let him take us to some 
 port and then do the best we can to escape from liim." 
 
 " You are quite right," said Colin, " in thinking that we 
 might be unable to find our way from one watering-place to 
 another ; but it is well for us to calculate all the chances. 
 After reaching some port, as you call it, may we not find 
 oui'selves in a position more difficult to escape from, — where 
 we will have to contend with a hundred or more of these 
 negro brutes in place of only three ? " 
 
 " That 's vary likely," answered the sailor ; " but they 're 
 only men, and we 'av a chance of beatin' 'em. We may 
 fight with men, and conquer 'em, an' we may fight with wa- 
 ter an' conquer that ; but when we fight against no water 
 that will conquer us. Natur is sure to win." 
 
 " Bdl 's right there," said Terence, " and I feel that Nature 
 is getting the best of me already." 
 
 While they were holding this" conversation, they noticed 
 that one of the Krooraen kept near them, and seemed lis- 
 tening to all that was said. His sparkling eyes betrayed the 
 greatest interest. 
 
 " Do you understand us ? " asked old Bill, turning sharply 
 towai'ds the African, and speaking in an angry tone. 
 
 " Yus, sa, — a lilly bit," answered the Krooman, without 
 
146 THE 150T SLAVES. 
 
 Beeming to notice the unpleasant manner in which the qu<» 
 tion had been put 
 
 " And what are you listening for ? " 
 
 " To hear A\hat you tell um. I like go in Ingleesh ship. 
 You talk good for me. I go long with you." 
 
 With some difficulty the sailor and his companions could 
 comprehend the Krooman's gibberish. They managed to 
 learn from him that he had once been in an English ship, 
 and had made a voyage along the African coast, trading for 
 palm-oil. While on board he had picked up a smattering 
 of English. He was afterwards shipwrecked in a Portu- 
 guese brig. Cast away on the shores of the Saara, just as 
 our adventurers had been, and had passed four years in the 
 desert, — a slave to its denizens. 
 
 He gratified our adventurers by telling them that they 
 were in no danger of having to endure a prolonged period of 
 captivity, as they would soon be sold into liberty, instead of 
 slavery. Golab could not afford to keep slaves ; and waa 
 only a kidnapper and dealer in the article. He would sell 
 them to the highest bidder, and that would be some English 
 consul on the coast. 
 
 The Krooman said there was no such hope for him and 
 his companions, for their country did not redeem its subjects 
 fi'om slavery. 
 
 Wlaen he saw that Golah had obtained some English 
 prisoners, he had been cheered with the hope that he might 
 be redeemed along with them, as an English subject, to 
 which right he had some claim from having served on an 
 English ship ! 
 
 During the day the black slaves — well knowing the duty 
 they were expected to perform, had been gathering piecei 
 of dried camels' dung along the way ; this was to supply 
 fuel for the fire of the douar at night. 
 
 Soon after sunset Golah ordered a halt, when the cameli 
 were unload^^d and the tents set up. 
 
A DAY OF AGONY. 147 
 
 At>out 0)ie quarter the quantity of sangleh that each re- 
 quired, was then served out to the slaves for their dinner, 
 and as they had eaten nothing since morning, this article of 
 focd appeared to have greatly improved, both in appearance 
 and flavor. To the palate of our adventurers it seemed de- 
 licious. 
 
 Golah, after examining his human property, and evidently 
 satisfied with tho condition of all, retired to his tent ; from 
 which soon after issued sounds that resembled a distant 
 thunder-storm. 
 
 The black sheik was snorfng ! 
 
 The two young men — his son and brother-in-law — re- 
 lieved each other during the night in keeping watch over 
 the slaves. 
 
 Their vigil was altogether unnecessary. Weak, and ex- 
 hausted with hunger and fatigue, the thoughts of the cap- 
 tives were not of the future, but of present repose ; which 
 was eagerly sought, and readily found, by all four of them 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 A DAT OF AGONY. 
 
 AN hour before sunrLse the next morning, the slaves 
 were grven some clieni to drink, and then started on 
 their journey. 
 
 Tlic sun, as it soared up into a cloudless sky, shot forth 
 its rays much warmer than upon the day before, while not a 
 breath of air fanned the sterile plain. The atmosphere was 
 as hot and motionless as the sands under their feet. They 
 were no longer hungry. Thiret — raging, burning thirst — 
 extinguished or deadened every other sensation. 
 
148 THE BOY SLAVES 
 
 Streams of perspiration poared from their bodies, as they 
 etruggled through the yielding sand; yet, with ail thif 
 moisture streaming from every pore, their throats, tongues, 
 and lipi became so parched that any attempt on their part 
 to bold :onverse only resulted in producing a series of sounds 
 that resembled a death-rattle. 
 
 Golah, with his family, rode in the advance, and seemed 
 not to give himself any concern whether he was followed by 
 others or not. His two relatives brought up the rear of the 
 l-ajila, and any of the slaves exhibiting a disposition to lag 
 behind was admonished to move on with blows administered 
 by a thick stick. 
 
 " Tell tliem I must have water or die," muttered Harry 
 to the Krooman in a hoarse whisper. " I am worth money, 
 and if old Golah lets me die for want of a drop of water, 
 he 's a fool." 
 
 The Krooman refused to make the communication — which 
 he declared would only result in bringing ill treatment upon 
 himself. 
 
 Colin appealed to Golah's son, and by signs gave him to 
 understand that they must have water.. The young black, in 
 answer, simply condescended to sneer at him. He was not 
 suffering himself, and could have no sympathy for another. 
 
 The hides of the blacks, besmeared with oil, seemed to re- 
 pel the scorching beams of the sun ; and years of continual 
 practice had no doubt inured them to the endurance of hun- 
 ger and thirst to a surprising degree. To their white fel- 
 low-captives they appeared more like huge reptiles than 
 himian beings. 
 
 The sand along the route on this, the second day, was less 
 compact than before, and the task of leg-lit\ing, i)roduceu a 
 weariness such as might have aiisen from the hardest worli. 
 Added to the agony of their thirst, the white sufferers dwelt 
 frequently on thoughts of death — that great antidote to hu- 
 man miseries ; yet so cousti-ained were theii' actions by force 
 
A DAY OF AGONY. 149 
 
 of ciicumstances, that only by following their leader and 
 owner, Golah, could they hope to find relief. 
 
 Had he allowed tb^m to turn back to the coast, whence 
 they had started, or even to repose for a few hours on the 
 way, they could not have done so. They were compelled 
 to move on, by a power that could not be resisted. 
 
 That power was Hope, — the hope of obtaining seme 
 sangleh and a little dirty water. 
 
 To turn back, or to linger behind, would bring them noth- 
 ing but more suffering, — perhaps death itself. 
 
 A man intent on dying may throw himself into the water 
 to get drowned, and then find himself involuntarily strug- 
 ghng to escape from the death he has courted. 
 
 The same irresistible antipathy to death compelled his 
 white captives to follow the black sheik. 
 
 They were unwilling to die, — not for the sole reason that 
 they had homes and friends they wished to see again, — not 
 solely for that innate love of life, implanted by Nature in 
 the breasts of all; but there was a pleasure which they 
 desired to experience once more, — aye, yearned to indulge 
 in it: the pleasure of quenching their terrible thirst. To 
 gratify this pleasure they must follow Golah. 
 
 One of Golah's wives had three children; and, as each 
 wife was obliged to look after her own offspring, this woman 
 could not pursue her journey without a little more trouble 
 than her less favored companions. 
 
 The eldest of her children was too young to walk a long 
 distance ; and, most of the time, was carried under her care 
 upon the maherry. Having her three restless imps, to keep 
 balanced upon the back of the camel, requiring her constant 
 vigilance to prevent them from falling off, she found her 
 hands full enough. It was a sort of travelling that did not 
 at all suit her ; and she had been casting about for some way 
 of being reheved from at least a portion of her trouble. 
 
 The plan she devised was to compel some one of th^j 
 
150 THE BOY SLAVES 
 
 slaves to carry her eldest child, a boy about foar years ol 
 age. 
 
 Colin was the victim selected for this dutj. All the at 
 tempts made by the young Scotchman to avoid the responsi- 
 bilities thus imposed upon him proved vain. The woman 
 was resolute, and Colin had to yield ; although he resisted 
 until she threatened to call Golah to her assistance. 
 
 This argument was conclusive ; and the young darkey 
 was placed upon Colin's shoulders, with its legs around hia 
 ueck, and one of its hands grasping him tightly by the hair. 
 
 When this arrangement was completed, night had drawn 
 near ; and the two young men who acted as guards hastened 
 forward to select a place for the douar. 
 
 There was no danger of any of the slaves making an at- 
 tempt to escape ; for all were too anxious to receive the 
 small quantity of food that was to be allowed them at the 
 night halt. 
 
 Encumbered with the "piccaninny," and wearied with the 
 long, ceaseless struggle through the sand, Colin lingered be- 
 hind his companions. The mother of the child, apparently 
 attentive to the welfare of her first-born, checked the pro- 
 gress of her maherry, and rode back to him. 
 
 After the camels had been unloaded, and the tents pitched, 
 Golah ••superintended the serving out of their suppers, which 
 consisted only of sangleh. The quantity was even less than 
 had been given the evening before ; but it was devoured by 
 the white captives with a pleasure none of them had hith- 
 erto experienced. 
 
 Sailor Bill declared that the brief time in which he was 
 employed in consuming the few mouthfuls allowed him, wag 
 a moment of enjoyment that repaid him for all the sufferingi 
 of the day. 
 
 "Ah, Master Arry ! " said he, " it 's only now we are larn- 
 in' to live, although I did think, one time to-day, we was just 
 larnin' to die. I never mean to eat i*§ain until I 'm hungry 
 
A DAY OF AGONY. 151 
 
 Blaster Terry," he added, turning to the young L-ishman, 
 " is n't this foiue livin' intirely ? and are yez not afther beia' 
 happy ? " 
 
 " 'T is the most delicious food man ever ate," answered 
 Terence, " and the only fault I can find is that there is not 
 enough of it." 
 
 " Then you may have what is left of mine," said Colin, 
 " for I can't say that I fancy it." 
 
 Harry, Terence, and the sailor gazed at the young Scotch- 
 man with expressions of mingled alarm and surjjrise. Small 
 as had been the amount of sangleh with which Colin had 
 been served, he had not eaten more than one half of it. 
 
 " Why, puir Maister Colly, what is wrang wi' ye ? " ex- 
 claimed Bill, in a tone expressing fear and pity. " If ye 
 d'.nna eat, mon, ye '11 dee." 
 
 " I 'm quite well," answered Colin, " but I have bad plenty, 
 and any of you can take what is left." 
 
 Though the hunger of Colin's three companions was not 
 half satisfied, they all refused to finish the remainder of his 
 supper, hoping that he might soon find his appetite, and eat 
 it himself 
 
 The pleasure they had enjoyed in eating the small allow- 
 ance given them rendered it difii:;ult for them to account for 
 the conduct of their companion. His abstemiousness caused 
 them uneasiness, even alanu. 
 
152 THE BOf SLAVES 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 COLIN IN LUCK. 
 
 rr^HE next morning, when the caravan started, Colin 
 I again had the care of the young black. He did not 
 always have to carry him, as part of the time the boy trotted 
 along by his side. 
 
 During the fore-part of the day, the young Scotchman 
 with his charge easily kept up with his companions, and 
 some of the time might be seen a little in advance of them. 
 His kind attentions to the boy were observed by Golah, who 
 showed some sign of human feeling, by exhibiting a contor- 
 tion of his features intended for a smile. 
 
 Towards noon, Colin appeared to become fatigued with 
 the toil of the journey, and then fell back to the rear, as he 
 had done the evening before. Again the anxious mother, 
 ever mindful of the welfare of her offspring, was seen to 
 check her camel, and wait until Colin and the boy overtook 
 her. 
 
 Sailor Bill had been much surprised at Colin's conduct 
 the evening before, especially at the patient manner in 
 which the youth had submitted to the task of looking after 
 the child. There was a mystery in the young Scotchman's 
 beliavior he could not compreliend, — a mystery that soon 
 became more profound. It had also attracted the attention 
 of Harry and Terence, notwithstanding the many unjjleas- 
 ant circumstances of the journey calculated to abstract their 
 tlioughts from him and his charge. 
 
 Shortly after noon, the woman was seen driving Colin up 
 to the kafila, urging him forward with loud screams, and 
 blows administered with the knotted end of the rope by 
 which she guided her maherry. 
 
 After p time Golah, aj^parently annoyed by her ehriU, 
 
COLIN IN LUCK. 153 
 
 icctlding voice, ordered her to desist, and permit the slave to 
 continue his journey in peace. 
 
 Although unable to understand the me&ning of her wnrds, 
 Colin must have known that the woman was not using terms 
 of endearment. 
 
 The screaming, angry tone, and the blows of the rope 
 might have told him tliis ; and yet he submitted to her re- 
 proaches and chastisements with a meekness and a philo- 
 Bophic resignation wliich surprised his companions. 
 
 When his thoughts were not too much absorbed by pain- 
 ful reveries over the desire for food and water, Harry en- 
 deavored to converse with the Krooman already mentioned. 
 He now applied to the man for an interpretation of the 
 words so loudly vociferated by the angry negress, and 
 launched upon the head of the patient young Scotchman. 
 
 The Krooman said that she had called the lad a lazy pig, 
 a Christian dog, and an unbelieving fool; and that she 
 threatened to kill him unless he kept up with the hajila. 
 
 On the third day of their journeying, it chanced not to be 
 quite so hot as on the one preceding it ; and consequently 
 the sufferings of the slaves, especially from thirst, were some- 
 what less severe. 
 
 "I shall never endure such agony again," ?aid Harry, 
 speaking of his experience of the previous day. " Perhaps 
 I may die for the want of water, and on this desert ; but I 
 can never suffer so much real pain a second time." 
 
 "'Ow is that, Master Arry ?" asked Bill. 
 
 " Because I cannot forget, after my experience of last 
 night, that the greater the desire for water, the more pleas- 
 ure there is in gratifying it ; and the anticipation of such hap- 
 piness will go far to alleviate anything I nif y hereafter feel." 
 
 " Well, there be summat in that, for sart ti," answered the 
 Bailor, " for I can't 'elp thinkin' about 'ow nice our supper 
 was last night, and only 'ope it will taste as well to-nighl 
 
 again." 
 
 7* 
 
154 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 " We have learnt something new," said Terence, " new, at 
 least, to ine ; and I shall know how to live when I get 
 wliere there is plenty. Heretofore I have been Hke a child 
 — eating and drinking half my time, not because I required 
 it, but because I knew no better. There is Colly, now, he 
 don't seem to appreciate the beauty of this Arabian style of 
 living ; or he may understand it better than we. Perhaps 
 he is waiting until he acquires a better appetite, so that he 
 may have all the more pleasure in gratifying it. Whei-e is 
 he now?" 
 
 They all looked about. They saw that Colin had once 
 more fallen behind ; and that the mother of the child was 
 again waiting for liim. 
 
 Harry and Terence walked on, expecting that they would 
 soon see their companion rudely driven up by the angry 
 Degress. 
 
 Sailor Bill stopped, as though he was interested in being 
 a witness to the scene thus anticipated. 
 
 In a few minutes after, the young Scotchman, with the 
 child, was hurried forward by the enraged hag — who once 
 more seemed in a great rage at his inability or unwillingness 
 to keep up with the others. 
 
 " I ken it 'a noo," said Bill, after he had stood for some 
 time witnessing the ill-treatment heaped upon Colin. 
 
 "Oiu- freen Colly's in luck. I 've no langer any wonder 
 at his taking a' this tribble wi' the blackey bairn." 
 
 " AVhat is it, Bill ? what have you learnt now .'' " asked 
 Terence and Harry in a l)reath. 
 
 " I 've larnt why Colly could not eat ]vs dinner yester- 
 day." 
 
 " "Well, why was it ? " 
 
 " I 've larnt that the nager's anger with Colly is all a 
 pretinee, an' that she 's an old she schemer," 
 
 " Nonsense, Bill ; that is all a fancy of yours,"' said Colin, 
 who, with the child on his shouldeJ"s, was now walking along- 
 side his companions. 
 
SAILOR BILL'S EXPERIMENT. 155 
 
 It is 110 fancy of mine, mon," answered Bill, " but a fan- 
 cy o' the woman for a bra' fair luddie. What is it that she 
 gi res you to eat, Maister Colly ? " 
 
 Seeing that it was idle to conceal his good fortjne anj 
 longer, Colin now confessed it, — informing them that the 
 woman, whenever she could do so without being seen, had 
 given him a handful of dried figs, with a drink of camel's 
 milk from a leathern bottle which she carried under her 
 sloak. 
 
 Notwithstanding the opinion they had just expressed, on 
 the enjoyment attending prolonged thirst and hunger, Colin's 
 companions congratulated him on his good fortune, — one and 
 all declaring their willingness to take charge of the littlo 
 darkey, on the condition of being similarly rewarded. 
 
 They had no suspicion at that moment that their opinions 
 might soon undergo a change ; and that Colin's supposed 
 good fortune would ere long become a source of much unea- 
 ainess to all of them. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 SAILOR bill's experiment. 
 
 THE afternoon of this day was very warm, yet Golah 
 rode on at such a quick pace, that it required the ut- 
 most exertion of the slaves to keep up with him. 
 
 This manner of travelling, under the circumstances in 
 which he was required to pursue it, proved too severe fcr 
 Sailor Bill to erdure with any degree of patience. 
 
 He became unable, as he tliought, to walk any farther 
 or, if not wholly unable, he was certainly unwilling, and he 
 therefore sat down. 
 
156 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 A heavy shower of blows produced no effect in moving 
 him fi-om the spot where he had seated himself, and the two 
 young men who acted as guards, not knowing wliat else to 
 do, and liaving exhausted all their arguments, accompanied 
 by a series of kicks, at length appealed to Golah. 
 
 The sheik instantly turned his maherry, and rode back. 
 
 Before he had reached the place, however, the three mids 
 had used all their influence in an endeavor to get tlieir old 
 companion to move on. Ir this they had been joined by 
 the Krooman, who entreated Bill, if he placed any value ou 
 his life, to get up before Golah should arrive, for he declared 
 the monster would show liim no mercy. 
 
 "For God's sake," exclaimed Harry Blount, "if it ia 
 possible for you to get up and go a little way farther, do 
 
 BO." 
 
 " Try to move on, man," said Terence, " and we will help 
 you. Come, Bill, for the sake of your friends try to get up. 
 Golah is close by." 
 
 Wliile thus speaking, Terence, assisted by Colin, took 
 hold of Bill and tried to drag him to his feet ; but the old 
 sailor obstinately persisted in remaining upon the ground. 
 
 " Perhaps I could walk on a bit farther," said he, " but I 
 won't. I 've 'ad enough on it. I 'ra goin' to ride, and let 
 Golah walk awhile. He 's better able to do it than I am. 
 Now don't you boys be so foolish a& to get yersels into 
 trouble on my account. All ye 've got to do is to look on, 
 an' ye '11 larn soraethin'. If I 've no youth an' beauty, like 
 Colly, to bring me good luck, I 've age and experience, and 
 I '11 get it by sehamin'." 
 
 On reaching the place where the sailor was sitting, Golah 
 was informed of what had caused the delay, and that the 
 usual remedy had failed of effect. 
 
 He did not seem dis])leased at the communication. On 
 the contrary, his huge features bore an expi-ession that for 
 him might have been considered pleasant. 
 
SAILOR BILL'S EXPERIMENT. 157 
 
 He quititly ordered the slave to get up, and pursue hia 
 journey. 
 
 The weary sailor had blistered feet ; and, with his strength 
 almost exhausted by hunger and thirst, had reached the 
 pcint of desperation. Moreover, for the benefit of himself 
 and his young companions, he wished to try an experiment. 
 
 He told the Krooman to inform the sheik that he would 
 go on, if allowed to ride one of the camels. 
 
 " You want me to kill you ? " exclaimed Golah, when this 
 communication was made to him ; " you want to cheat me 
 out of the price I have paid for you ; but you shall not. 
 You must go on. I, Golah, have said it." 
 
 The sailor, in reply, swore there was no possible chance 
 for them to take him any farther, without allowing him to ride. 
 
 This answer to the sheik's civil request was communicated 
 by the Krooman ; and, for a moment, Golah seemed puz- 
 zled as to how he should act. 
 
 He would not kill the slave after saying that he must go 
 on ; nor would he have him carried, since the man would 
 then gain his point. 
 
 He stood for a minute meditating on what was to be done. 
 Then a hideous smile stole over his features. He had mas- 
 tered the difficulty. 
 
 Taking its halter from the camel, he fastened one end of 
 it to the saddle, and the other around the wrists of the sailor. 
 f*oor old Bill made resistance to being thus bound, but he 
 was like an infont in the powerful grasp of the black sheik. 
 
 The son and brother-in-law of Golah stood by with their 
 muskets on full cock, and the first move any of Bill's com- 
 panions could have made to ast^ist him, would have been a 
 signal for them to fire. 
 
 When the fastenings were completed, the sheik orderec 
 his son to lead the camel forward, and the sailor, suddenly 
 jerked from his altitude of repose, was rudely dragged on- 
 ward over the sand. 
 
158 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 " Y"ou are going now ! " exclaimed Golah, nearly franti* 
 with delight ; " and we are not carrying you, are we ? Nei- 
 ther are you riding ? Bismillah ! I am your master ! " 
 
 The torture of travelling in this manner was too great to 
 be long endured, and Bill had to take to his feet and walk 
 forward as before. He was conquered; but as a punish- 
 ment for tha trouble he had caused, the shiek kept him 
 towing at the tail of the camel for the remainder of that 
 day's journey. 
 
 Any one of the white slaves would once have thought 
 that he possessed too much spirit to allow himself or a friend 
 to be subjected to such treatment as Bill had that day en- 
 dured. 
 
 None of them was deficient in true courage ; yet the 
 proud spirit, of which each had once thought himself pos- 
 sessed, was now subdued by a power to which, if it be prop- 
 erly applied, all animate things must yield. 
 
 That power was the feeling of hunger; and there is no 
 creature so wild and fierce but will tamely submit to the 
 dominion of the man who commands it. It is a power that 
 must be used with discretion, or the victims to it, urged by 
 desperation, may destroy their keeper. Golah had the wis- 
 dom to wield it with effect ; for by it, with the assistance of 
 two striplings, he easily controlled those who, under other 
 cid-c HID stances, would have c' aimed the right to be free. 
 
AN UNJUST REWARD. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 AN UNJUST REWARD. 
 
 rrillE next morning on resuming the joumey (5olah con- 
 _i_ descended to tell his captives that tliej should reach a 
 well or spring that afternoon, and stay by it for two or three 
 days. 
 
 This news was conveyed to Harry by the Krooman ; and 
 all were elated at the prospect of rest, with a plentiful sup- 
 ply of water. 
 
 Plarry had a long conversation with the Krooman as they 
 were pursuing their route. The latter expressed his surprise 
 that the white captives were so contented to go on in the 
 course in which the sheik was conducting them^ 
 
 This was a subject about which Harry and his companions 
 had given themselves no concern ; partly because that they 
 had no idea that Golah was intending to make a very long 
 journey, and partly that they supposed his intentions, what- 
 ever they were, could not be changed by anything they 
 might propose. 
 
 The Krooman thought different. He told Harry that the 
 route they were following, if continued, would lead them far 
 into the interior of the country — probably to Timbuctoo ; 
 and that Golah should be entreated to take them to some 
 port on the coast, where they might be ransomed by an 
 English consul. 
 
 Harry perceived the truth of these suggestions; and, 
 After having a conversation with his companions, it was de- 
 termined between them that they should have a talk w'tb 
 Golah that very night. 
 
 The Krooman promised to act as interpreter, and to do 
 All in his power to favor their suit. He might persuade the 
 sheik to change his destination, by telling him that he woul«' 
 
160 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 find a far better market in taking them to some place whero 
 vessels arrive and depart, than by carrying them into the in- 
 terior of the country. 
 
 The man then added, speaking in a mysterious manner, 
 that there was one more subject on which he wished to giv6 
 them warning. When pressed to mention it, he appeared 
 reluctant to do so. 
 
 He was at last prevailed upon to be more communicative ; 
 when he proclaimed his opinion, that their companion, Colin, 
 would never leave the desert. 
 
 *' Why is that ? " asked Harry. 
 
 " Bom-by he be kill. De sheik kill um." 
 
 Although partly surmising his reasons for having formed 
 this opinion, Harry urged him to further explain himself. 
 
 " Ef Golah see de moder ob de piccaninny gib dat lad one 
 lilly fig, — one drop ob drink, he kill um, sartin-sure. I see, 
 one, two, — seb'ral more see. Golah no fool. Bom-by 
 be see too, and kill um bof, — de lad an' de piccaninny 
 moder." 
 
 Harry promised to warn his companion of the danger, 
 and save him before the suspicions of Golah should be 
 aroused. 
 
 " No good, no good," said the Krooman. 
 
 In explanation of this assertion, Harry was told that, should 
 the yo'jng Scotchman refuse any favor from the woman, her 
 wounded vanity would change her liking to the most bitter 
 hatred, and she would tlien contrive to bring down upon him 
 the anger of Golah, — an auger that would certainly be fa- 
 tal to its victim. 
 
 " Then what must I do to save him ? " asked Harry. 
 
 " Tsotlng," answered the Krooman. " You noting can do. 
 Ony bid him be good man, and talk much, — pray to God. 
 Golah wife lub him, and he sure muss die." 
 
 Harry informed the sailor and Terence of what the 
 Krooman had told him, and the three took counsel together. 
 
AN UNJUST REWARD. 161 
 
 " I believes as how the darkey be right," said Bill. " Of 
 course, if the swab Goliarh larns as 'ow one av is wi^es ha' 
 taken a fancy to Master Colly, 't wiU be all up wi' the poor 
 lad. He will be killed, — and mayhap eaten too, for that 
 matter." 
 
 " Like enough," assented Terence. " And should he 
 scorn her very particular attentions, her resentment might 
 be equally as dangerous as Golah's. I fear poor Colin has 
 4rifted into trouble." 
 
 "What ye be afther sayin' about the woman," said Bill, 
 *^ minds me o' a little story I wunce heeard whin I was a 
 boy. I read it in a book called the Bible. It was about a 
 young man, somethin' like Master Colly, barrin' his name 
 was Joseph. A potter's wife tuck a fancy to him ; but Jo- 
 seph, bein' a dacent an' honest youngster, treted her wid 
 contimpt, an' came to great grief by doin' that same. Yoa 
 must 'ave read that story. Master 'Arry," continued Bill, 
 turning from Terence to the young Englishman, and chang- 
 ing his style of pronunciation. " Did it not 'appen summers 
 in this part o' the world ? Hif I remember rightly, it did. 
 I know 't was summers in furrin parts." 
 
 " Yes," answered Harry, " that little affair did happen in 
 this part of the world, — since it was in Africa, — and our 
 comrade has a fair prospect of being more unfortunate than 
 Joseph. In truth, I don't see how we shall be able to as- 
 sist him." 
 
 " There he is, about a hundred cable lengths astern," said 
 Bill, looking back. " And there 's the old 'oman, too, look- 
 in' sharp afther him, while Colly is atin' the figs and drinkin* 
 the camel's milk ; and while I 'm dying for a dhrop of that 
 same, old Goliarh is no doubt proud wid the great, care 
 she 's takin' of his child. Bud won't there be a row when 
 he larns summat more ? Won't there. Master 'Arry?" 
 
 " There will, indeed," answered Harry. " CoL' i wi-1 soon 
 be up with us, and we must talk to him." 
 
 K 
 
162 TEE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Harry was right, for Colin soon after overtook them, — • 
 having been driven up as usual by the negress, who seemed 
 in great anger at the trouble he was causing her. 
 
 " Colin," said Harry, when their companion and the child 
 had joined them, " you must keep that woman away from 
 you. Her partiality for you has already been noticed by 
 others. The Krooman has just been telling us that you will 
 not live much longer ; that Golah is neither blind nor fool- 
 ish ; and that, on the slightest suspicion he has of the womaii 
 showing you any favor, — even to giving you a fig, — he 
 will kill you." 
 
 "But what can I do?" asked Colin. "If the woman 
 should come to you and offer you a handful of figs and a 
 drink of milk, could you refuse them ? " 
 
 " No, I certainly could not. I only wish such an alterna- 
 tive would present itself; but you must manage in some 
 way or otlier to keep away from her. You must not linger 
 behind, but remain all the time by us." 
 
 "If you knew," asked Colin, "that you could quench 
 your thirst by lagging a few paces behind, would you not 
 do so?" 
 
 " That would be a strong temptation, and I should proba- 
 bly yield ; but I tell you that you are in danger." 
 
 Neither of Colin's companions could blame him. Suffer- 
 ing, as he was, from the ceaseless agony of hunger and thirst^ 
 any indiscretion, or even crime, seemed justifiable, for the 
 sake of obtaining relief. 
 
 The day became hotter and hotter, until in the afternoon 
 the sufferings of the slaves grew almost unendurable. Sailor 
 Bill appeared to be more severely affected than any of his 
 companions. Ho had been t/ioeking about the woi-ld for 
 many long years, injuring his constitution by dissipation and 
 exposure in many climes ; and the siege tliat thirst and hun- 
 ger were now making to destroy his strength became each 
 hour more perceptible in its effect. 
 
AN UNJUST REWARD. 163 
 
 By t\ie middle of the afternoon it was with the utmost 
 difficulty he could move along ; and his tongue was so 
 parched that in an attempt to speak he wholly failed. Hia 
 hands were stretched forth towards Colin ; who, since the 
 warning he had received, had kept up along with the rest. 
 
 Colin understood the signal ; and placed the boy on the 
 old man's shoulders. Bill wished to learn if the mothei 
 would reward him for taking care of her child, as she haa 
 his predecessor in the office. To carry out the experiment 
 he allowed himself to be left in the rear of the caravan. 
 
 Golah's son and the other guard had noticed the old sail- 
 or's suffering condition, and objected to his being incumbei'ed 
 with the child. They pointed to Harry and Terence ; but 
 Bill was resolute in holding on to his charge ; and cursing 
 him for an unbelieving fool, they allowed him to have his 
 own way. 
 
 Not long after, the mother of the child was seen to stop 
 her camel, and the three raids passed by her unnoticed. The 
 old sailor hastened up as fast as his weary limbs would allow 
 to receive the hoped-for reward; but the poor fellow was 
 doomed to a cruel disappointment. 
 
 "When the woman perceived who had been entrusted with 
 the carrying of her child, she pronounced two or three 
 phrases in a sharp, angry tone. Understanding them, the 
 child dismounted from the sailor's back and ran with all 
 Bpeed towards her. 
 
 Bill's reward was a storm of invectives, accompanied by 
 a shower of blows with the knotted end of the halter. He 
 strove to avoid the punishment by increasing his speed ; but 
 the camel seemed to understand the relative distance that 
 Bhould be maintained between its rider and the sailor, so that 
 the former might deliver and the latter receive the blows 
 with the most painful effect. This position it kept until Bill 
 had got up to his companions ; his naked shoulde 's bearing 
 crimson evidence of the woman's ability in the handling of a 
 rope's end. 
 
164 THE BOY SLAVES 
 
 As she rode past Colin, who had again taken charge of 
 tlie child, slie gave the young Scotchuian a look that seemed 
 to say, " You have betrayed me ! " and without waiting for 
 a look in return, she passed on to join her husband at the 
 head of the caravan. 
 
 The black slaves appeared highly amused at the sailor's 
 misfortunes. The incident had aroused their expu-ing ener- 
 gies, and the journey was pursued by them with more ani- 
 mation than ever. 
 
 BUl's disappointment was not without some beneficial 
 effect upon himself. He was so much revived by the beat- 
 ing, that he soon after recovered his tongue ; and as he 
 shuffled on alongside his companions, they could hear him 
 muttering curses, some in good English, some in bad, some 
 in a rich Irish brogue, and some in the broadest Scotch. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 THE WATERLESS WELL. 
 
 GOLAH expected to reach the watering-place early in 
 the evening ; and all the caravan was excited by the 
 anticipation of soon obtaining a plentiful supply of water. 
 
 It was weU they were inspired by this hope. But for that, 
 \ong before the sun had set, Sailor Bill and three or four 
 others would have dropped down in despair, physically un- 
 able to have moved any further. But the prospect of plenty 
 of water, to be found only a few miles ahead, brought, at the 
 same time^ resolution, strength, and life. Faint and feeble, 
 they struggled on, nearly mad with the agony of nature's 
 fierce demands ; and soon after sunset they succeeded in 
 reaching the well. 
 
THE WATERLESS WELL. 165 
 
 It was dry ! 
 
 Not a drop of the much desired element was shining is 
 the cavity wliere they had expected to find it. 
 
 Sailor Bill and some of the other slaves sank upon the 
 earth, muttering prayers for immediate death. 
 
 Golah was in a great rage with everything, and his wives, 
 children, slaves, and camels, that were most familiar with hia 
 moods, rushed here and there to get out of his way. 
 
 Suddenly he seemed to decide on a course to be taken in 
 this terrible emei'geucy, and his anger to some extent sub- 
 sided. 
 
 Unbuckling the last goat-skin of water from one of the 
 camels, he poured out a small cup for each individual of the 
 iajila. Each was then served with a little sangleh and a 
 couple of dried figs. 
 
 All were now ordered to move on tD wards the west, Golah 
 leadhig the way. The new route was at right angles to the 
 course they had been followuig during the earlier part of the 
 day. 
 
 Some of the slaves who declared that they were unable to 
 go further, found out, after receiving a few ticklings of the 
 stick, that they had been mistaken. The application of Go- 
 lali's cudgel awakened dormant energies of which they had 
 not deemed themselves possessed. 
 
 After proceeding about two miles from the scene of their 
 disappointment, Golah suddenly stopped, — as he did so, 
 giving to his followers some orders in a low tone. 
 
 The camels were immediately brought into a circle, 
 forced to kneel down, while their lading was removed from 
 them. 
 
 "While this was gcing on, the white captives heard voices, 
 and the trampling of horses' hoofs. 
 
 Tlie black sheik, with his highly educated ear, had de- 
 tected the approach of strangers. This had caused him to 
 order the halt. 
 
166 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 When the noises had approached a little nearer Gola) 
 called out in Arabic : " Is it peace ? " 
 
 "It is," was the answer; and as the strangers drew near- 
 er, the salutations of " Peace be with you ! " — " Peace be 
 with all here, and with }our friends ! " were exchanged. 
 
 The caravan they had met consisted of between fifteen 
 and twenty men, some horses and camels ; and the sheik 
 who commanded it inquired of Golah from whence he 
 came. 
 
 " From the west," answered Golah, giving them to 
 understand that he was travelHng the same way as them- 
 eelves. 
 
 " Then why did you not keep on to the well ? " was the 
 next inquiry. 
 
 " It is too far away," answered Golah. " We are very 
 weary." 
 
 " It is not far," said the chief, " not more than half a league. 
 You had better go on." 
 
 " No. I think it is more than two leagues, and we shall 
 wait till morning." 
 
 We shall not. I know the well is not far away, and we 
 shall reach it to-night." 
 
 " Very well," said Golah, " go, and may God be with yoii. 
 But stay, masters, have you a camel to sell ? " 
 
 " Yes, a good one. It is a little fatigued now, but will be 
 Btrong in the morning." 
 
 Golah was aware that any camel they would sell him that 
 niglit would be one that could only move with much ditfi- 
 culty, — one that tliey despaired of getting any further on 
 the way. Tlie black sheik knew his own business best ; 
 and was willing they should think they had cheated him in 
 the bargain. 
 
 After wrangling for a few minutes, he succeeded in buy 
 ing their camel, — the price being a pair of blankets, a sliirt, 
 and the dirk that had been takeji from Terence. The camel 
 
THE WATERLESS WELL. 167 
 
 nad no cargo ; aud liad for some time been forced onward at 
 considerable trouble to its owner. 
 
 The straugers soon took their departure, going off in the 
 direction of the dry well. As soon as they were out of sight 
 Golah gave orders to reload the animals, and resume the 
 interrupted march. To excite the slaves to a continuance 
 of the journey, he promised that the camel he had purchased 
 should be slaughtered on tlie next morning for their break- 
 ftifit ; and that they should have a long rest in the shade ol 
 the tents during the following day. 
 
 This promise, undoubtedly, had the anticipated effect in 
 revivifying their failing energies, and they managed to move 
 on until near daybreak, when the camel lately purchased 
 laid itself down, and philosophically resisted every attempt 
 at compelling it to continue the journey. 
 
 It was worn out with toil and hunger, and could not re- 
 cover its feet. 
 
 The other animals were stopped and unladen, the tents 
 were pitched, and preparations made for resting throughout 
 the day. 
 
 After some dry weeds had been collected for fuel, Golah 
 proceeded to fulfd his promise of giving them plenty of food. 
 
 A noose was made at the end of a rope, and placed around 
 the camel's lower jaw. Its head was then screwed about, as 
 fai as it would reach, and the rope was made fast to the root 
 of its tail, — the long neck of the camel allowing its head 
 to be brought within a few inches of the place where the 
 rope was tied. 
 
 Fatima, the favorite, stood by holding a copper kettle ; 
 while Golah opo'ied a vein on the side of the animal's neck 
 near the breastbone. The blood gushed forth in a stj earn ; 
 and before the camel had breathed its last, the vessel held to 
 catch it had become filled more than half full. 
 
 The kettle was then placed over the fire, and the blood 
 ivnled aud stirred with a stick until it had become as thick 
 
168 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 as porridge. It was then taken off', and wlien it had cooled 
 down, it resembled, both in color and consistency, the liver 
 of a fresh killed bullock. 
 
 This food was divided amongst the slaves, and was greed 
 ily devoured by all. 
 
 The heart and liver of the camel, Golah ordered to ht 
 cooked for his own family ; and what little flesh was on the 
 bones, was cut into strips, and hung up in the sun to dry. 
 
 In one portion of the camel's stomach was about a gallon 
 and a half of water, thick and dirty with the vegetation it 
 had last consumed ; but all was caiefully poured into a goat'a 
 skin, and preserved for future use. 
 
 The intestines were also saved, and hung out hi the sun 
 to get cured by drying, to be afterwards eaten by the 
 slaves. 
 
 During the day Harry and Terence asked for an inter 
 view with Golah ; and, accompanied by the Krooman, were 
 allowed to sit down by the door of his tent while they con- 
 versed with him. 
 
 Harry instructed the Krooman to inform their master, 
 that if they were taken to some seaport, a higher ransom 
 would be paid for them than any price for which they could 
 be sold elsewhere. 
 
 Golah's reply to this information was, that he doubted its 
 truth ; that he did not like seaport towns ; that his business lay 
 away from the sea ; and that he was anxious to reach Tim- 
 buctoo as soon as possible. He further stated, that if all his 
 slaves were Christian dogs, who had reached the country in 
 ships, it might be worth his while to take them to some port 
 where they would be redeemed ; but as the mo-t of them 
 were of countries that did not pay ransoms for their sub- 
 jects, there would be no use in his carrying tliem to the 
 coast, — where they might escape from him, and he would 
 then have had all his trouble for nothing. 
 
 He was next asked if he would not try to sell the white 
 
THE WATERLESS WELL. 169 
 
 captives along witli the two Kroomen, to some slave dealer, 
 who would take thetn to the coast for a market. 
 
 Golah would not promise this. He said, that to do so, 
 he should have to sell them on the desert, where he could 
 not obtain half their value. 
 
 The oiily information they were able to obtain from him 
 was, that they were quite certain of seeing that far-famed 
 city, Timbuctoo, — that was if they should prove strong 
 enough to endure the hardships of the journey. 
 
 After thanking Golah for his condescension in listening to 
 their appeal, the Kroomau withdrew, followed by the others, 
 who now for the first time began to realize the horror of 
 their position. A plentifid supply of food, along with the 
 day's rest, had caused all the white slaves to turn their 
 thoughts from the present to the future. 
 
 Harry Blount and Terence, after their interview with 
 Golah, found Colin and Sailor Bill anxiously awaiting theii 
 return. 
 
 " Well, what 's the news ? " asked Bill, as they drew 
 near. 
 
 " Very bad," answered Terence. " There is no hope fol 
 us : we are going to Timbuctoo." 
 
 " No, I 'm no going there," said Bill, " if it was in anothel 
 world I migh,'- see the place soon enough, but in this, niver, 
 — niver 1 " 
 
170 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 THE WELL. 
 
 AT an early hour next morning the caravan started oa 
 its journey, still moving westward. This direction 
 Golah was compelled to pursue to obtain a supply of water, 
 although it was taking him no nearer his destination. 
 
 Two days' journey was before them ere they could reach 
 another Avell. While performing it, Golah, vexed at the de- 
 lay thus occasioned, was in very ill -humor Avith things in 
 general. 
 
 Some'of his displeasure was vented upon the camel he 
 was riding, and the animal was usually driven far ahead of 
 the others. 
 
 The sheik's wrath also fell upon his wives for lingering 
 behind, and then upon the slaves for not following closer 
 upon the heels of his camel. His son, and brother-in-law, 
 would at intervals be solemnly cursed in the name of the 
 Prophet for not driving the slaves faster. 
 
 Before the well had been reached, the four white slaves 
 were in a very wretched condition. Their feet were blis- 
 tered and roasted by vhe hot sand, and as the clothing al- 
 lowed them was insufficient protection against the blazing 
 Bun, their necks and legs were inflamed and bleeding. 
 
 The intestines and most of the flesh of the slaughtered 
 camel had been long ago consumed, as well as the filthy 
 water taken from its stomach. 
 
 Colin had again established himself iQ the ff<vor of the 
 sheik's Avife, and was allowed to have the care of the child ; 
 but the little food and drink he received for his attention to 
 it were dearly earned. 
 
 The weight of the young negro was a serious incumbrance 
 in a weary journey through what seemed to be a burning 
 
THE WELL. 171 
 
 plain ; moreover the " darkey," in Keeping its seat on the 
 young Scotchman's shoulders, had pulled a quantity of hail 
 out of his licad, besides rendering his scalp exceedingly irri- 
 table to further treatment of a like kind. 
 
 Hungry, thirsty, weak, lame, and weary, the wretched 
 captives struggled on until the well was reached. 
 
 On arriving within sight of a small hill on which were 
 growing two or three sickly bushes, Golah pointed towards 
 it, at the same time turning his face to those who were fol- 
 lowing him. All understood the signal, and seemed sud- 
 denly inspired with hope and happiness. The travellers 
 pressed forward with awakened energy, and after passing 
 over the hill came in sight of tlie well at its foot. 
 
 The eagerness exhibited by the slaves to quench their 
 thirst might have been amusing to any others tcan those who 
 beheld them ; but their master seemed intent on giving them 
 & further lesson in the virtue of patience. 
 
 He first ordered the camels to be unladen, and the tents 
 to be pitched. "While some were doing this, he directed 
 others to seek for fuel. 
 
 Meanwhile, he amused himself by collecting all the dishes 
 and drinking-vessels, and placing them contiguous to the well. 
 
 He then attached a rope to a leathern bucket, and, draw- 
 ing water from the reservoir, he carefully filled the utensils, 
 with the least possible waste of the precious fluid his follow- 
 ers were so anxious to obtam. 
 
 When his arrangements were completed, he called his 
 wives and children around him. Then, serving out to each 
 of them about a pint of the water, and giving them a few 
 seconds for swallowing it, he ordered them off. 
 
 Each obeyed without a murmur, all apparently satisfied. 
 
 The slaves were next called up, and then there was a 
 rush in real earnest. The vessels were eagerly seized, and 
 their contents greedily swallowed. They were pr'jseuted 
 for more, X'efilled, and again emptied. 
 
172 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 The quantity of water swallowed by Sailor Bill and lii* 
 bhree young companions, and the rapacity with which it was 
 gulped down, caused Golah to declare that there was but one 
 God, that Maliomet was his Prophet, and that four of llie 
 slaves about him were Christian swine. 
 
 After all had satisfied the demands of nature, Golah 
 showed them the quantity of water he deemed sufficient for 
 a thirsty individual by drinking about a pint himself — not 
 more than a fifth of the amount consumed by each of his 
 white slaves. 
 
 Long years of short allowance had accustomed the negro 
 sheik to make shift with a limited allowance of the precious 
 commodity, and yet continue strong and active. 
 
 About two hours after thrj had reached the well, and just 
 as they had finished watering the camels, another caravan 
 arrived. Its leader was liailed by Golah with the words, 
 " Is it peace ? " — the usual salutation when strangers meet 
 on the desert. 
 
 " The answer was, " It is peace " ; and the new comers 
 dismounted, and pitched their camp. 
 
 Next morning Golah had a long talk with their sheik, 
 after which he returned to his own tents in much apparent 
 uneasiness. 
 
 The caravan newly arrived consisted of eleven men, with 
 eight camels and three Saaran horses. The men were all 
 Arabs — none of them being slaves. They were well 
 armed, and carried no merchandise. They had lately come 
 from the north »vest, for what purpose Golah knew not: 
 since the account the stranger sheik had given of himself 
 was not satisfactory. 
 
 Though very short of provisions, Golah rer^olved not to 
 leave the well that day ; and the Krooman learnt that thi» 
 resolution was caused by his fear of the strangers. 
 
 " If he is afraid of them," said Harry, " I should sup- 
 pose tliat would make him all the more anxious to get out 
 of their company.'" 
 
THE WELL 173 
 
 Thu If rooman, in explanation, stated ttat if the Arabs 
 were robbers — pirates of the desert — they would not 
 molest Golah so long as he remained at the well. 
 
 "In this the Krooman was correct. Highway robbers do 
 not waylay their victims at an inn, but on the road. Piratei 
 do not plunder ships in a harbor, but out on the open ocean. 
 Custom, founded on some goo:l purpose, has established a 
 similar rule on the great sandy ocean of the Saiira. 
 
 " I wish they were robbers, and would take us from 
 Grolah ! " said Colin. " We should then perhaps be carried 
 to the north, where we might be ransomed some time or 
 other. As it is, if we are to be taken to Timbuctoo, we 
 shall never escape out of Africa." 
 
 " We shall not be taken there," cried Terence. " We 
 shall turn robbers ourselves first. I will for one ; and when 
 I do, Golah shall be robbed of one of his slaves at least." 
 
 "An' that wan will be Misther Terence O'Connor, ov 
 coorse ? " said Bill. 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 " Thin ye will 'ave done no more than Master Colly, who 
 has already robbed 'im ov twa — the haffections ov 'is wife 
 an' bairn." 
 
 " That will do. Bill," said Colin, who did not like hearing 
 any allusion made to the woman. " We have something 
 else that should engage our attention. Since we have learnt 
 that they intend taking us to Timbuctoo, it is time we began 
 to act. We must not go there." 
 
 " That is understood," said Harry ; " but what can we 
 do ? Something should be done immediately. Every day 
 we journey southward carries us farther from home, or the 
 chance of ever getting there. Perhaps these Arabs may 
 buy us, and take us north. Suppose we get the Krooman 
 to speak to them ? " 
 
 All consented to this course. The Krooman was called , 
 and when informed of their wishes he said that be roust no< 
 
174 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 te seen speaking to the Arab?, or Golali would bo dis' 
 pleased. lie also stated — what the white captives had al- 
 ready observed — that Golah and his eon were keeping a 
 sharp watch over thera, as well as over the strangers ; and 
 that an opportunity of talking to the Arab sheik might not 
 be easily obtained. 
 
 "While he was still speaking, the latter was observed pro 
 ceeding towards the well to draw some water. 
 
 The Krooman instantly arose, and sauntei*ed after. 
 
 He was observed by the quick eye of Golah, who called 
 to him to come away ; which he did, but not before quench- 
 ing his thirst, that did not appear to be very great. 
 
 On the Krooman's return from the well, he informed 
 Harry that he had spoken to the Arab sheik. He had said, 
 " Buy us. You will get plenty of money for us in Swearah ;" 
 and that the reply of the sheik was, " The white slaves are 
 dogs, and not worth buying." 
 
 " Then we have no hope from that source ! " exclaimed 
 Terence. 
 
 The Krooman shook his head ; not despondently, but as 
 if he did not agree in the opinion Terence had expressed. 
 
 " What ! do you think there is any hope ? " asked Harry 
 
 The man gave a nod of assent. 
 
 " How ? In what way ? " 
 
 The Krooman vouclisafed no explanation, but sauntered 
 silently away. 
 
 When the sun was within two or three hours of setting 
 over the Saara, the Arabs struck their tents, and started olT 
 m the direction of the dry well — from whence Golah and 
 his caravan had just come. After they had disappeared be- 
 hind the hill, Golah's son was sent to its top to watch them, 
 while his women and slaves were ordered to strike the teuta 
 as quickly as possible. 
 
 Then waiting till the shades of night had descended over 
 the desert, and the strangers were beyond the reach of 
 
A MOMENTODS INQUIRY. 175 
 
 \n3ion, Golah gave orders to resume the march once more 
 in a southeasterly direction — which would carry them 
 away from the seacoast — and, as the white slaves believed, 
 fi'om all chances of their ever recovering their freedom. 
 
 The Krooman, on the contrary, appeared to be pleased at 
 their taking this direction, notwithstanding the objections ha 
 had exjiressed to going inland. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 A MOMENTOUS INQUIRY. 
 
 DURING the night's journey Golah still seemed to have 
 some fear of the Arabs ; and so gi'eat was his desire to 
 place as much ground as possible between himself and them, 
 that he did not halt, until the sun was more than two hours 
 above the horizon. 
 
 For some time before a halt had been planned, Fatima, 
 his favorite wife, had been riding by his side, and making, 
 what seemed, from the excited movements of both, an im- 
 portant communication. 
 
 After the tents had been pitched, and food was about be- 
 ing served out, Golah commanded the mother of the boy 
 carried by Colin to produce the bag of figs that had been 
 intrusted to her keeping. 
 
 Trembling with apprehension, the woman rose to obey. 
 The Krooman glanced at the white captives with an expres- 
 sion of horror ; and although they had not understood Go- 
 '^h's command, they saw that something was going wrong. 
 
 The woman produced the bag ; which was not quite half 
 full. There were in it about two quarts of dried figs. 
 
 The figs *hat had been served out thrfio days before at tha 
 
176 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 dry well had been taken from another bag kept in the cus- 
 tody of Fatima. 
 
 The one now produced by the second wife should have 
 been full : and Golah demanded to know why it was not. 
 
 The woman tremblingly asseverated that she and her 
 children had eaten them. 
 
 At this confession Fatima uttered a scornful laugh, and 
 spoke a few words that increased the terror of the delin- 
 quent mother, — at the same time causing the boy to com- 
 mence howling with affright. 
 
 "I tell you so," said the Krooman, who was standing 
 near the white slaves ; " Fatima say to Golah, ' Christian 
 dog eat the figs ' ; Golah kill him now ; he kill da woman 
 too." 
 
 In the opinion of those who travel the great desert, about 
 the greatest crime that can be committed is to steal food or 
 drink, and consume either unknown to their companions of 
 the journey. 
 
 Articles of food intrusted to the care of any one must be 
 guarded and preserved, — even at the expense of life. 
 
 Under no circumstances may a morsel be consumed, until 
 it is produced in the presence of all, and a division, either 
 equitable or otherwise, has been made. 
 
 Even had the story told by the woman been true, her 
 crime would have been considered sufficiently great to have 
 endangered her life ; but her sin was greater than that. 
 
 She had bestowed favor upon a slave, — a Christian dog, 
 — and had aroused the jealousy of her IMahometan lord and 
 master. 
 
 Fatima seemed happy; for nothing less than a miracle 
 could, in her opinion, save the life of her fellow-wife, who 
 chanced to be a hated rival. 
 
 After drawing his scimitar from its sheath, and cocking 
 his musket, Golah ordered all *he slaves to squat themselvea 
 on the ground, and in a row. 
 
A MOMENTOUS INQUIRY. 177 
 
 This ordei was quickly comprehended and obeyed, — tha 
 whites seating themselves together at one end of the line. 
 
 Golah's son and the other guard — each with his musket 
 loaded and cocked — were stationed in front of the row : and 
 were ordered by the sheik to shoot any one who attempted 
 to get up from the ground. 
 
 The monster then stepped up to Colin, and, seizing the 
 young Scotchman by the auburn locks, dragged him a few 
 paces apart from his companions. There, for a time, he was 
 left alone. 
 
 Golah then proceeded to serve out some cheni to every 
 individual on the ground ; but none was given to the woman 
 who had aroused his anger, nor to Colin. 
 
 In the sheik's opinion, to have offered them food would 
 have been an act as foolish as to have poured it upon the 
 Bands. 
 
 Food was intended to sustain life, and it was not designed 
 by him that they should live much longer. And yet it was 
 evident from his manner that he had not quite determined aa 
 to how they were to die. 
 
 The two guards, with the muskets in their grasp, kept a 
 sharp eye on the slaves, while Golah became engaged in a 
 close consultation with Fatima. 
 
 " What shall we do ? " asked Terence ; " the old villain 
 means mischief, and how can we prevent it ? We must not 
 let him kill poor Colly ? " 
 
 " We must do something immediately," said Harry. "We 
 have neglected it too long, and shall now have to act under 
 the disadvantage of tlieir being prepared for an attack. Bill, 
 what should we do ? " 
 
 " 1 was just thinking," said Bill, " that if we all made a 
 rush at 'em, at the words One — two — three ! not more 'n 
 two or three of us might be killed afore we grappled with 
 'em. Now, this might do, if these "black fellows would only 
 jine us." 
 
 8 ♦ L 
 
178 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 The Krooman here expressed himself as one Ttilliug to 
 take his chance in any action they should propose, and be- 
 lieved that liis countrymen would do the same;, lie feared^ 
 LcweveF, that the other blacks could not be trusted, and that 
 any proposal he might make to them would be in a language 
 the two guards would understand. 
 
 " Well, then," said Harry, " there will be six of us against 
 three. Shall I give the word ? " 
 
 " All right ! " said Terence, drawing his feet under his 
 body, by way of preparation for rising suddenly. 
 
 The scheme was a desperate one, but all seemed willing 
 to undertake it. 
 
 Since leaving the well, they had felt convinced that life 
 and liberty depended on their making a struggle ; though 
 circumstances seemed to have forced that struggle upon thtm 
 when there was the least hope of success. 
 
 "Now all make ready," muttered Harry, speaking iu a 
 calm voice, so as not to excite the attention of the guards. 
 ''One!" 
 
 " Stop !" exclaimed Colin, who had been listening atten- 
 tively to all that was said. " I 'm not with you. We should 
 all be killed. Two or three would be shot, and the sheik 
 himself could finish all the rest with his scimitar. It is bet- 
 ter for him to kill me, if he really means to do so, than to 
 have all four destroyed in the vain hope of trying to save 
 one." 
 
 " It is not for you alone that we are going to act," inter- 
 posed Harry. " It is as much for ourselves." 
 
 " Then act when there is a chance of succeeding," pursued 
 Colin. '* You cannot save me, and will only lose your own 
 lives." 
 
 " De big black sheik am going to kill someb'dy, dat berry 
 Bure," said tLe Krooman, as he sat with his eyes fixed upon 
 Golah. 
 
 The latter was still in consultation with Fatiraa, hi^ face 
 
A MOMENTOUS INQUIRY. 179 
 
 ivearing an expression that was horrible for all except her* 
 self to behold. Murder by excruciating torture seemed 
 written on every feature of his countenance. 
 
 The woman, upon whose manner of deatli they Aveie de- 
 liberating, was in the act of care-sing her children, appar- 
 ently conscious that she had but a few minutes more to re- 
 main in their company. Her features wore an expression 
 of calm and hopeless resignation, as if she had yielded her- 
 self up to the decree of an inevitable fate. 
 
 The third wife had retired a short distance from the others. 
 With her child in her arms, she sat upon the ground, con- 
 templating the scene before her with a look of mingled sur- 
 prise, curiosity, and regret. 
 
 From the appearance of the whole caravan, a stranger 
 could have divined that some event of thrilling interest was 
 about to transpire. 
 
 " Colin," cried Terence, encouragingly, " we won't sit here 
 quietly, and see you meet death. We had better do some- 
 thing while yet we have a chance. Let Harry give the 
 word." 
 
 " I tell you it 's madness," expostulated Colin. " Wait till 
 we see what he intends doing. Perhaps he '11 keep me 
 a while for future vengeance, and ye may have a chance of a 
 rescue when there are not two men standing over us ready 
 to blow our brains out." 
 
 Colin's companions saw there was truth in this remark, and 
 for a while they waited in sUence, with their eyes fixed upon 
 the lent of the shiek. 
 
 They had not long to wait, for, soon after, Golah came 
 forth, ha\ing finished his consultation with Fatima. 
 
 On his face appeared a hideous smile, — a smile that 
 made most of those who beheld it shudder with a sensation 
 of horror. 
 
180 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 A LIVING GEAVE. 
 
 GOLAH'8 first act aftei coming forth was to take somt 
 " thongs fnfin his saddle. Having done this, he beck- 
 oned to the two who guarded the slaves, giving them some 
 admonition in an unknown tongue. The effect was to ex- 
 cite their greater vigilance. The muzzles of their muskots 
 were turned towards the white captives, and they seemed 
 anxiously waiting the order to fire. 
 
 Golah then looked towards Terence, and made a sign for 
 the young Irishman to get up and come towards hira. 
 
 Terence hesitated. 
 
 « Go on, Terry," muttered Colin " He don't mean you 
 any harm." 
 
 At tliis instant Fatima stepped j^st from the tent, armed 
 with her husband's scimitar, and apparently anxious for an 
 opportunity of using it. 
 
 Acting under the advice of the others, Terence sprang to 
 his feet: and advanced to the spot where the sheik was 
 standing. The Krooman who spoke English was then 
 called up ; and Golah, taking him and the midshipman each 
 by a hand, led them into his tent, — whither they were fol- 
 lowed by Fatima. 
 
 The sheik now addressed a few words to the Krooman, 
 who then told Terence that his life depended on perfect 
 obedience to Golah's orders. His hands were to be tied: 
 and he mu3t not call out so as to be heard by the others. 
 
 " He say," said the Krooman, '• if yeu no make fight, and 
 no make noise, he no kill you." 
 
 Tiie man further counselled Terence to submit quietly, — 
 6ayiug that the least resistance wc ild lead to all the vvhit« 
 slaves being killed. 
 
A LIVING GRAVE. 181 
 
 Though possessing more than average strength and power 
 for a youth of his age, Terence knew that, in a strife with 
 the gigantic black sheik, he would not have the slightest 
 chauce of being victor. 
 
 Should he shout to his companions, and have them all act 
 in concert, — as they had already proposed ? 
 
 No. Such an act would most likely lead to two of them 
 being shot ; to the third having his brains knocked out with 
 the butt-end of a musket; and to the fourth, — himself, — 
 being strangled in the powerful grasp of Golah, if not 
 beheaded with the scimitar in the hands of Fatima. On 
 reflection, the young Scotchman yielded, and permitted 
 his hands to be tied beliind his back ; so, too, did the 
 Krooman. 
 
 Golah now stepped out of the tent: and immediately 
 after returned, leading Harry Blount along with him. 
 
 On reaching the opening, and seeing Terence and the 
 Krooman lying bound upon the floor, the young Englishman 
 started back, and struggled to free himself from the grasp of 
 the hand that had hold of him. His efforts only resulted in 
 his being instantly flung to the earth, and fast held by hia 
 powerful adversary, who at the same time was also employed 
 in protecting his victim from the fury of Fatima. 
 
 Terence, Harry, and the Krooman were now conducted 
 back over the ground, and placed in their former position in 
 the row, — from which they had been temporarily taken. 
 
 Sailor Bill and Colin were next treated in a similar fash- 
 ion, — both being fast bound like their companions. 
 
 " What dees the ould divil mane ? " asked Bill when Golab 
 was tying his hands together. " Will he murder us all ? " 
 
 " No," answered the Krooman. " He no kill but one of 
 your party." 
 
 His eyes turned upon Colin as he spoke. 
 
 " Colin ! Colin ! " exclaimed Harry ; " see what you have 
 do]ie by opposing our plan ! We are all helpless now." 
 
182 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 " And so much the better for yourselves," answere;! Colin 
 " You will now suffer no further harm." 
 
 '* If he means no harm, why has he bound us ? '' asked 
 Bill. " It 's a queer way of showing friendship." 
 
 " Yes, but a safe one," answered Colin. " You cannot now 
 bring yourselves into danger by a foolish resi.stance to his 
 will " 
 
 Terence and Harry understood Colin's meaning; and now, 
 for the first time, comprehended the reason why they had 
 been bound. 
 
 It was to prevent them from interfering with Golah's plans 
 for the disposal of his two victims. 
 
 Now that the white slaves were secured, no danger was 
 apprehended from the others ; and the two who had been 
 guarding them retired to the shade of a tent to refresh them- 
 selves with a drink of cheni. 
 
 While the brief conversation above related was being held, 
 Golah had become busily engaged in overhauling the lading 
 of one of his camels. 
 
 The object of his search w^as soon discovered : for, the 
 moment after, he came towards them carrying a long Moor- 
 ish spade. 
 
 Two of the black slaves were then called from the line ; 
 the spade was placed in the bar. Is of one, and a wooden dish 
 was given to the other. They were then ordered to make a 
 large hole in the sand, — to accomplish wlucb they at once 
 set to work. 
 
 ■ " They are digging a grave for me, or that of the pocr 
 woman, — perhaps for both of us ? " suggested Ct)lin, as lie 
 calmly gazed on the spectacle. 
 
 His companions had no doubt but that it was as he liad 
 said; and sat contemphiting the scene in melancholy silence. 
 
 While the slaves were engaged in scooping up the hole, 
 Golah called the two guards, and gave them some orderi 
 about continuing the journey. 
 
A LIVING GRAVE. 183 
 
 The Wttcks set about the work were but a few minutes in 
 making an excavation in the loose sand of some four feet ia 
 depth. They were then directed to dig another. 
 
 " It's all over with me,' said Colin ; " he intends to kiL 
 two, and of course I must be one of them." 
 
 «< lie should kill us all," exclaimed Terence. " We de 
 serve it for leaving the well last night. We should have 
 made an effort for our lives, while we had the chance." 
 
 " You are right," replied Harry ; " we are fools, cowardly 
 fools ! We deserve neither pity in this world nor happiness 
 in the next. Colly, my friend, if you meet with any harm, 
 1 swear to avenge it, whenever my hands are free." 
 
 " And I '11 be with you," added Terence. 
 
 " Never mind me, old comrades," answered Colin, who 
 seemed less excited than the others. " Do the best you can 
 for yourselves, and you may some time escape from this 
 monster." 
 
 The attention of Harry was now attracted to Sailor Bill, 
 who had turned his back toward one of the black slaves sit- 
 ting near him, and was by signs entreating the man to untie 
 his hand. 
 
 The man refused, evidently fearing the anger of Golah 
 should he be detected. 
 
 The second Krooman, who was unbound, now offered to 
 loose the hands of his countryman ; but the latter seemed 
 satisfied with his want of freedom, and refused the proffered 
 aid. He also feared death at the hands of Golah. 
 
 If left to divine the ultimate intentions of the black sheik 
 by the knowledge of human nature they had acquired before 
 faUing into his hands, the white captives would not have 
 been seriously alarmed for the welfare of any one of their 
 number. But Golah was a specimen of natural history new 
 to them ; and their apprehensions were excited to the highest 
 pitch by the conduct of those whom they knew to be bettei 
 acquainted with his character. 
 
184 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 The behavior of the woman who had ai'oused his angei 
 ehowed that she was endeavoring to resign herself to some 
 fearful mode of death. The wild lamentations of her chil« 
 dren denoted that they were conscious of some impending 
 misfortune. 
 
 Fatima seemed about to realize the fulfilment of some 
 long-cherished hope, — the hope of revenge on a detested 
 rival. 
 
 The care Golah had taken to hinder any interference with 
 his plans, — the words of the Krooman, the looks and ges- 
 tures of the guards and of Golah himself, the digging of two 
 graves in the sand, — all gave warning that some fearful 
 tragedy was about to be enacted. Our adventurers were 
 conscious of this, and conscious, also, that they could do 
 nothing to prevent it. 
 
 Nearly frantic with the helplessness of their position, they 
 could only wait — " trembling for the birth of Fate." 
 
 CHAPTER LI I. 
 
 THE sheik's plan OF REVENGE. 
 
 ri'^IIE second sand-pit was dug a short distance from th© 
 B first ; and when it had been sunk to tlie depth of about 
 four and a half feet, Golah commanded the blacks to leave 
 off tJieir labor, — one of them being sent back to the line to 
 be seated along with his fellow-slaves. 
 
 By tliis time the tents had been struck, the camels loaded; 
 and all but Golah and Fatima appeared willing and anxioua 
 to dei)art from the spot. These were not : for their business 
 at that camping-place had not yet been completed. 
 
 Wlen the two guards had again resumed their formei 
 
THE SHEIK'S PLAN OF REVENGE. 185 
 
 Btation3 in front of the line, — as before with their muskets 
 at full cock, — Golah advanced towards the woman, who, 
 disengaging herself from her children, stood up at his ap 
 proach. 
 
 Then succeeded a moment of intense interest. 
 
 Was he going to kill her ? 
 
 If so, in what manner ? 
 
 All looked on with painful anticipation of some dire 
 event. 
 
 It soon transpired. The woman was seized by Golah 
 Limself ; dragged towards the pits that had been dug ; 
 and thrust into one of them. The slave who wielded the 
 spade was then commanded to fill up the exca nation around 
 her. 
 
 Terence w^as the first to speak. 
 
 " God help her ! " he exclaimed ; " the monster is going 
 to bury her alive ! Can't we save her ? " 
 
 " We are not men if we do not try ! " exclaimed Harry, 
 as he suddenly sprang to his feet. 
 
 His example was immediately followed by his white com- 
 panions. 
 
 The two muskets were instantly directed towards them ; 
 but at a shout from Golah their muzzles were as quickly 
 dropped. 
 
 The sheik's son then, at his father's command, ran to the 
 pit to secure the woman, while Golah himself rushed for- 
 ward to meet the helpless men who were advancing towards 
 him. 
 
 In an instant the four were thrown prostrate to the earth. 
 
 With their hands tied, the powerful sheik upset them as 
 easily as though they had been bags of sand. 
 
 Raising Harry by the hair of his head with one hand and 
 Terence with the other, he dragged them back to their places 
 in the line where they had been already seated. 
 
 Sailor Bill saved himself from like treatment by roiling 
 
186 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 over and ovor until he had regained his former place. CoIi» 
 was allowed to lie on the ground where the sheik had 
 knocked him over. 
 
 Golah now returned to the pit where the woman stood 
 half buried. 
 
 She made no resistance — she uttered no complaint — hut 
 seemed calmly to resign herself to a fate that could not be 
 averted. Golah apparently did not intend to behold hei 
 die, for, when the earth was filled in around her body, her 
 head still remained above ground. She was to be starved to 
 death ! As the sheik was turning away to attend to other 
 matters, the woman spoke. Her words were few. and pro- 
 duced no effect upon him. They did, however, tipon the 
 Krooman, whose eyes were seen to fill with tears that rapidly 
 chased each other down his mahogany-colored cheeks. 
 
 Colin, who seemed to notice everything except the fate 
 threatening himself, observed the Ki'ooman's excitement, 
 and inquired its cause. 
 
 " She ask him to be kind to her httle boy," said the man, 
 in a voice trembling with emotion. 
 
 Are tears unmanly ? — No. 
 
 The shining drops that rolled from that man's eyes, and 
 sparkled adown his dusky cheeks, on hearing the unfortu- 
 nate woman's prayer for her children, proved that he was 
 not a brute, but a man, — a man with a soul that millions 
 might envy. 
 
 After leaving the place where the woman was buried, 
 Golah walked up to Colin ; and, di'agging him to his feet, 
 led him away to the other pit. 
 
 His intentions were now evident to all. The two indi- 
 viduals, who had aroused his anger and jealousy, were to 'be 
 left near each other, buried alive, to perish in this fearful 
 fashion. 
 
 " Colin ! Colin ! what can we do to save you ? " ex 
 claimed Harry, in a tone expressing despair and anguish. 
 
THE SHEIK'S PLAN OF REVENGE. 387 
 
 * Nothing," answered Colin ; " don t attempt it, or you will 
 only bring trouble on yourselves. Leave me to my fate." 
 
 At this moment the speaker was thrown mio tlie pit, and 
 held in an upright attitude by Golah, while the black slave 
 proceeded to fill-in the earth around him. 
 
 Following the philosophical example set by the woman, 
 Colin made no useless resistance ; and was soon submerged 
 under the sand piled up to his shoulders. His companions 
 Bat gazing with speechless horror, all suffering the combined 
 anguish of shame, regret, and despair. 
 
 The sheik was now ready to depart ; and ordered the 
 glave who had been assisting him in his diabolical work to 
 mount the camel formerly ridden by the woman who waa 
 thus entombed. The black obeyed, pleased to think that his 
 late task was to be so agreeably rewarded ; but a sudden 
 change came over his features when Golah and Fatima 
 passed up the three childi-en, and placed them under his 
 care. 
 
 Golah had but one more act to perform before leaving the 
 spot. It was an act worthy of himself, although suggested 
 by Fatima. 
 
 After filling a bowl about half full of water, he placed it 
 midway between Colin and the woman, but so distant from 
 each that neither could possibly reach it ! 
 
 This Satanic idea was executed with the design of tantaliz- 
 ing the sufferers in their dying hours with the sight of that 
 element the want of which would soon cause them the most 
 acute anguish. By the side of the bowl he also placed a 
 handful of figs. 
 
 " There," he tauntingly exclaimed ; '" I leave you two 
 together, and with more food and drink than you will ever 
 con8r.me. Am I not kind ? What more can you ask ? 
 Bismillah ! God is great, and Mahomet is his prophet ; an (J 
 I am Golah, the kind, the just ! " 
 
 Saying this^ he gave orders to resume the march. 
 
188 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 " Don't move ! " exclaimed Terence ; " we will give hiai 
 Bome trouble yet." 
 
 "Of course we'll not go, and leave Colin there," said 
 Harry. " The sheik is too avaricious to kill all his slaves. 
 Don't move a step, Bill, and we may have Colly liberated 
 yet." 
 
 " I shall do as you say, ov coorse," said Bill ; " but I ex- 
 pect we shall 'ave to go. Golah has got a way of making a 
 man travel, whether he be willing or not." 
 
 All started forward from the place but t^e three white 
 slaves and the two wliom Golah intended to remain. 
 
 " Cheer up, lad," said Bill to Colin ; " we '11 never go, 
 and leave you there." 
 
 " Go on, go on ! " exclaimed Colin. " You can do me no 
 good, and Avill only injure yourselves." 
 
 Golah had mounted his camel and ridden forward, leaving 
 to his two guards the task of driving on the slaves ; and, as 
 if apprehensive of trouble from them, he had directed Ter- 
 ence, Harry, Bill, and the Krooman to be brought on with 
 their hands tied behind them. 
 
 The three refused to move ; and when all efforts to get 
 tliera on had been tried in vain, the guards made a loud 
 appeal to their sheik. 
 
 Golah came riduig back in a great rage. 
 
 Dismounting from his camel he drew the ramrod from hif 
 musket; then, rushing up to Terence, who was the near- 
 est to him, administered to him a shower of blows that 
 changed the color of his shirt from an untidy white to the 
 darker hue of blood. 
 
 The two guards, following the example of their lord and 
 master, commenced beating Harry and Bill, who, unable 
 to make any resistance, had to endure the torture in silence. 
 
 " Go on, my friends ! " exclaimed Colin ; " for God's sake,- 
 go, and leave me ! You cannot do anything to avert my 
 fete I" 
 
THE SHEIK'S PLAN OF REVENGE. 181 
 
 Colin's entreaties, as well as the torture from the blows 
 tliey received, were alike without effect. His shij)matea 
 could not bring themselves to desert their old comrade, and 
 leave him to the terrible death that threatened him. 
 
 Rushing up to Bill and ITany, Golah caught hold of each, 
 and hurled them to tie ground by the side of Terence. 
 Keeping all three together, he now ordered a camel to be 
 led up ; and the order was instantly obeyed by one of the 
 guards. The halter was then taken from the head of the 
 animal. 
 
 " We 'ave got to go now," said Bill. " He 's going to try 
 the same dodge as beat me the other day. I shall save him 
 the trouble." 
 
 Bill tried to rise, but was prevented. He had refused to 
 walk when earnestly urged to do so ; and now, when he was 
 willing CO go on, he had to wait the pleasure of his owner 
 as to the manner in which his journey should be continued. 
 
 While Golah was fastening the rope to Harry's hands, the 
 sharp shrill voice of Fatima called his attention to some of 
 the people who had gone on before. 
 
 The two women, who led the camels loaded with articles 
 taken from the wreck, had advanced about three hundred 
 yards from the place ; and were now, along with tlie black 
 Bla't es, sur -ounded by a party of men mounted on raaherriei 
 and horses. 
 
THE BOY SLAVES. 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 CAfTURED AGAIN. 
 
 G^feAH'S fear of the Arabs met by the well had not 
 been without a cause. His forced night march, to 
 avoid meeting them again, had not secured the object for 
 which it had been made. 
 
 Approaching from the direction of the rising sun, the 
 Arabs had not been discovered in the distance ; and Golah, 
 occupied in overcoming the obstinate resistance of the white 
 slaves, had allowed them to come quite near before they 
 had been observed by him. 
 
 Leaving his captives, the sheik seized his musket ; and, 
 followed by his son and brother-in-law, rushed forward to 
 protect his wives and property. 
 
 He was too late. Before he could reach them they were 
 in the possession of others ; and as he drew near the spot 
 where they had been captured, he saw a dozen muskets pre- 
 sented towards himself, and heard some one loudly com- 
 manding him, in the name of the Prophet, to approach in 
 peace ! 
 
 Golah had the discretion to yield to a destiny that could 
 not be averted, — the misfortune of being made a prisoner 
 and plundered at the same time. 
 
 Calmly saying, " It is the will of God," he sat down, and 
 invited his captors to a conference on the terms of capitu- 
 lation. 
 
 As soon as the caravan had fallen into the possession of 
 the robbers, the Krooman's hands were unbound by his com- 
 panion, and he hastened to the relief of the white slaves. 
 
 " Golah no our massa now," said he, while untying Har- 
 ry's wrists ; " our massa is Ai-ab dat take us norf. We ge» 
 
CAPTURED AGAIN. 191 
 
 free. Dat why dis Arab no buy us, — he know U6 he hah 
 for noting." 
 
 The cords were quickly untied, and the attention of the 
 others was now turned to disinterring Colin and the woman 
 from their living graves. 
 
 To do this, Harry wanted to use the water-bowl the sheik 
 had left for the purpose of tantaUzing his victims with the 
 eight of its contents. 
 
 " Here, drink this water," said he, holding the vessel to 
 Colin's lips. " I want to make use of the dish." 
 
 " No, no ; dig me out without that," answered Colin. 
 " Leave the water as it is ; I have a particular use for it 
 when I get free. I wish the old sheik to see me drink it." 
 
 Bill, Harry, and the Krooman set to work : and Colin 
 and the woman were soon uncovered and dragged out. Ter- 
 ence was then awakened to consciousness by a few drops of 
 the water poured over his face. 
 
 Owing to the cramped position in which he had been 
 placed and so long held, Colin was for a few minutes un- 
 able to walk. They waited, to give him time to recover the 
 use of his limbs. The slave who had the care of the wo- 
 man's children was now seen coming back with them, and 
 the woman ran to meet him. 
 
 The delight of the wretched mother at again embracing 
 her offspring was so great, that the gentle-souled Krooman 
 was once more affected to tears. 
 
 In the conference with the Arab robbers, Golah was un- 
 able to obtain the terms he fancied a sheik should be en- 
 titled to. 
 
 They offered him two camels and the choice of one wife 
 out of the three, on condition he should go back to his own 
 country, and return to the desert no more. 
 
 These terms Golah indignantly refused, and declared that 
 he would rather die in defence of his rights. 
 
 Golah was a pure negro, and one of a class c f traders 
 
192 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 aiuch disliked by the Arabs. He was a lawless intruder on 
 Iheir gi-ounds, — a trespasser upon their special domain, the 
 Great Desert. He had just acquired a large amount, of 
 wealth in goods and slaves, that had been cast on their coast ; 
 and these they were determined he should not carry back 
 with him to his own country. 
 
 Though he was as much a robber as themselves, they had 
 no sympathies with him, and would not be satisfied with 
 merely a share of his plunder. They professed to under- 
 stand all his doings in the past ; and accused him of not 
 being a fair trader I 
 
 They told him that he never came upon the desert with 
 merchandise to exchange, but only with camels, to be driven 
 away, laden with property justly belonging to them, the real 
 owners of the land. 
 
 They denied his being a true believer in the Prophet ; 
 and concluded their talk by declaring that he should be 
 thankful for the liberal terms they had offered him. 
 
 Golah's opposition to their proposal became so demonstra- 
 tive, that the Arabs were obliged to disarm and bind him ; 
 though this was not accomplished without a fierce struggle, 
 in which several of his adversaries were overthrown. 
 
 A blow on the head with the stock of a musket at length 
 reduced him to subjection, after which his hands were fast 
 tied behind his back. 
 
 During the struggle, Golah's son was prevented from in- 
 terfering in behalf of his father, by the black slaves who 
 had been so long the victims of his cruel care ; while tiio 
 brother-in-law, as well as Fatima and the third wife, re- 
 mained passive spectators of the scene. 
 
 On Golah bemg secured, the white slaves, with old Bill 
 at their head, came up and voluntarily surrendered them- 
 Belves to their new masters. 
 
 Colin had in his hands the bowl of water, and tlie dried 
 figs that had beon placed beside it. 
 
CAPTURED AGAIN. 193 
 
 Advftnoing towards Golah, he held the figs up before his 
 ejes, and then, with a nod and an expression that seemed 
 to say, " Thank you for this," he raised the bowl to his lips 
 with the intention of drinking. 
 
 The expression on tlie sheik's features became Satanic, 
 but suddenly changed into a glance of pleasure, as one of 
 the Arabs snatched the vessel out of Colin's hands, and in- 
 stantly drank off its contents. 
 
 Colin received the lesson meekly, and said not a word. 
 
 The Arabs speedily commenced making ai-rangements 
 for leaving the place. The first move was to establish a 
 communication between Golah and the saddle of one of his 
 camels. 
 
 This was accomplished by using a rope as a medium ; and 
 the black giant was compelled to walk after the animal with 
 his hands tied behind him, — in the same fashion as he had 
 lately set for Sailor Bill. 
 
 His wives and slaves seemed to comprehend the change 
 in their fortunes, and readily adapted their conduct to the 
 circumstances. 
 
 The greatest transformation of all was observable in the 
 behavior of the favorite Fatima. 
 
 Since his capture she had kept altogether aloof from her 
 late lord, and showed not the slightest sympathy for his mis 
 fortunes. 
 
 By her actions she seemed to say : " The mighty Go- 
 lah has fixllen, and is no longer worthy of my distinguished 
 regard." 
 
 Very different was the behavior of the woman whom the 
 cruel sheik would have left to die a Ungering death. Her 
 husband's misfortune seemed to have awakened within hes' 
 a love for the father of her children : and her features, as 
 she gazed upon the captive, — who, although defeated, was 
 unsubdued in spirit, — wore a mingled expression of pity 
 and grief 
 
 9 IS 
 
194 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Hungry, tliirstj, weary and bleeding — enslaved on the 
 Great Desert, still uncertain of what was to be their fate, 
 and doubtful of surviving much longer the hardships the;^ 
 might be forced to endure — our adventurers were far from 
 being hajjpy; but, with all their misery, they felt joyful 
 when comparing their present prospects with those before 
 them but au hour ago. 
 
 With the exception of Golah, the Arabs had no trouble 
 with their captives. The white and black slaves knew they 
 were travelhng towards the well ; and the prospect of again 
 having plenty of water was suflicient inducement to make 
 them put forth all their strengLb in following the camels. 
 
 Early in the evening a short halt was made ; when each 
 of the company was served with about half a pint of water 
 from the skins. The Arabs, exa^e^t'ug to reach the well 
 soon after, could afford to be thus liberal ; but the favor so 
 granted, though thankfully received by tb<i slaves was scorn- 
 fully refused by their late master — the giant bodied and 
 Btrong-minded Golah. 
 
 To accept of food and drink from hi<? enemies in his 
 present humihating position — bound and dragged along 
 like a slave — was a degradation to which he scorned to 
 submit. 
 
 On Golah contemptuously refusing the proffered cup of 
 water, the Arab who offered it simply ejaculated, " Thani 
 God ! " and then drank it himself. 
 
 The well was reached about an nour after midnight ; and 
 after quenching their thirst, the slaves were allowed to go 
 to rest and sleep, — a prizilege they stood sorely in need ot 
 having been over thirty hours afoot, upon their cheerlesi 
 uid aiuuous journey. 
 
AN U]!iFAITHFUL WIFE. 19.1 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 AN UNFAITHFUL AVIFE. 
 
 ON wakine up the next morning, our adventurers were 
 gratified with a bit of intelligence communicated by 
 the Krooman : that they were to have a day of rest. A 
 camel was also to be killed for food. 
 
 The Arabs were going to divide amongst themselves the 
 slaves taken from Golah ; and the opportunity was not to 
 be lost of recruiting their strength for a long journey. 
 
 As Sailor Bill reflected upon their sufferings since leaving 
 that same place two days before, he expressed regret that 
 they had not been captured before leaving the well, and thus 
 spa7'^d the horrors they had endured. 
 
 Stimulated by the remembrance of so much suffering 
 needlessly incurred, he asked the Krooman to explain the 
 conduct of their new masters. 
 
 The Krooman's first attempt at satisfying his curiosity 
 was to state, that the Arabs had acted after a manner pecu- 
 liar to themselves, — in other words, that it was "a way 
 they had." 
 
 The old sailor was not satisfied with this answer ; and 
 pressed for a further explanation. 
 
 He was then told that the robbers on the desert were al- 
 ways in danger of meeting several caravans at a watering- 
 place ; and that any act of violence committed there would 
 bring upon the perpetrators everlasting disgrace, as well as 
 the enmity of all desert tiavellers. The Krooman ex})laiued 
 himself by saying, that should a caravan of a liundred men 
 arrive at the well, they would not now interfere in behalf of 
 Golah, but would oidy recognize him as a slave. On the 
 contrary, had they found him engaged in actual strife with 
 the robbers,^ they would have assisted him. 
 
i o THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 This was salisfactcry to all but Bill. Even Colin, who 
 had been buried ali-re, and Terence, who had been so un- 
 mercifully beaten, were pleased at their change of masters 
 on any terms ; but the old sailor, sailor-like, would not have 
 ceea himself without some cause of coniplauit. 
 
 Before their newly acquired wealth could be divided, the 
 Arabs had to come to some resolution as to the disposal 
 A the black sheik ; who still remained so unmanageable 
 that he had to be kept bound, with a guard placed over 
 bim. 
 
 The Arabs could not agree amongst themselves as to 
 what should be done with him. Some of them urged that, 
 despite the color of his skin, he might be a true believer in 
 the Prophet ; and that, notwithstanding his manner of trad- 
 ing and acquiring wealth — a system nearly as dishonest aa 
 their own — he was entitled to his liberty, with a certain 
 portion of his property. 
 
 Others claimed that they had a perfect right to add him 
 and his large family to the number of their slaves. 
 
 He was not an Arab, but an Ethiopian, like most of hig 
 following ; and, as a slave, would bring a high price in any 
 of the markets where men were bought and sold. 
 
 Those who argued thus were in the minority ; and Golah 
 was at length offered his wives and their children, with a 
 couple of camels and his scimitar. 
 
 This offer the black sheik indignantly refused, — much to 
 the astonishment of those who had been so eloquent in his 
 behalf. 
 
 His decision produced anotlier debate ; in which llie opin- 
 ions of several of his captors underwent such a change, that 
 it was finally determined to consider him as one of the 
 elaves. 
 
 Every article that had been ol)taitied from tlie wreck wa» 
 now exposed to view, and a fixed price set upon it. 
 
 The slaves were carefully examined and valued, — as well 
 
AN UNFAITHFUL ^VIFE. 197 
 
 as the camels, muskets,^ and everytJiing that had belonged to 
 Golah or his dependantSv 
 
 When these preliminaiy arrangements had been com 
 j)leted, the Arabs proceeded to an equitable partition of tho 
 property. 
 
 This proved a very difficult matter to manage, and occu- 
 pied their time for the rest of the day. Three or four would 
 covet the same article ;. and long and noisy discussions would 
 take i^lace before the dispute could be settled to their mutual 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The Krooman, who understood the desert language, was 
 attentive to all that transpired ; and from time to time in- 
 formed the white slaves of what was being done. 
 
 At an early period in the discussions, he discovered that 
 each of the four was to fall to different masters. 
 
 " You and me," said he to Harry, " we no got two mas- 
 sas — only one." 
 
 His words were soon after proved to be true. They were 
 carried apart from each other, evidently with the designs of 
 being appropriated by different owners ; and the fear that 
 they might also be separated again came over them. 
 
 When the slaves, camels, tents, and articles that had been 
 gathered from the wreck were distributed amongst the 
 eleven Arabs, each one took the charge of his own ; but 
 there still remained Golah, his wives and their children, to 
 be disposed of. 
 
 No one seemed desirous of becoming the owner of the 
 black sheik and his wives. Even those who had said that he 
 would make a valuable slave, appeared unwilling to take 
 him, although induced to do so by the taunts of their com- 
 panions. 
 
 The fact was, that they were afraid of hira. He would 
 be too difficult to manage ; and none of them wished to be 
 the master of one who obstinately refused both food and 
 driak, and who so defiantly invoked upon the heads of his 
 
198 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 captors the curse of Mahomet, and swore by the beard of the 
 Prophet that the moment his hands were free, he would kill 
 the man who sliould dare to own or claim him as a slave. 
 
 Golah, with all his faults, was neither cunning nor deceit 
 ful, and, having a s) irit too great to affect submission, he did 
 not intend to yield. 
 
 He was arrogant, cruel, avaricious, and vindictive; but 
 the wrongs he did were always accomplished in a plain, 
 open-handed way, and never by stratagem or treachery. 
 
 By accepting the terms the Arabs had offered him, his 
 Btrength, courage, and unconquerable will might afterwards 
 have enabled him to obtain revenge upon his captors, and 
 regain a portion of his property ; but it was not in his na- 
 ture to sham submission, even for the sake of gaining a 
 future advantage. 
 
 As not one of the Arabs was willing to accept of him, at 
 the value at which he had been appraised, or to allow an- 
 other to have him for less, it was finally decided that he 
 should be retained as the common property of all, until he 
 could be sold to some other tribe, when a distribution might 
 be made of the proceeds of the sale. His wives and children 
 were to be disposed of in like manner. 
 
 This arrangement was satisfactory to all but Golah him- 
 ?elf, who expressed himself greatly displeased with it. Nev- 
 ertheless, he seemed a little disposed to yield to circum- 
 stances ; for, soon after the decision of his captors was made 
 known to him, he called to Fatima, and commanded her to 
 bring him a bowl of water. 
 
 The favorite reflised, under the plea that she had been 
 forbidden to give him anything. 
 
 This was trae ; for, as he had declined to accept of any- 
 thing at the hands of those claiming to be his masters, they 
 had determined to starve him into submission. 
 
 Fatima's refusal to obey him caused Golah his greatest 
 chagrin. Ever accustomed to prompt and slavish obedienc« 
 
AH UNFAITHFUL WIFE. 199 
 
 from ctbers, tlie idea of his own wife — his favorite too — 
 denylDg his modest request, ahuost di-ove him frantic. 
 
 " I am your husbnnd," he cried, " and whom should you 
 obey but me ? Fatima ! I command you to bring me somo 
 water ! " 
 
 " And I command you not to do it," said the Arab sheik, 
 who, standing near by, had heard the order. 
 
 Fatima was an artful, selfish woman, who had gained some 
 influence over her husband by flattering liis vanity, and pro- 
 fessing a love she had never felt. 
 
 She had acted with slavish obedience to him when he was 
 all-powerful ; but now that he was himself a slave, her sub- 
 mission had been transferred with perfect facility to the 
 chief of the band who had captured him. 
 
 It was now that Golah began to realize the fact that he 
 was a conquered man. 
 
 His heart was nearly bursting with rage, shame, and dis- 
 appointment ; for nothing could so plainly awaken him to 
 the comprehension of his real position, as the fact that Fa- 
 tima, his favorite, she who had ever professed for him so 
 mucli love and obedience, now refused to attend to his sim- 
 plest request. 
 
 After making one more violent and ineffectual effort at 
 breaking his bonds, he sank down upon the earth and re- 
 mained silent — bitterly contemplating the degraded condi- 
 tion into which he had fallen. 
 
 The Krooman, who was a very sharp observer of passing 
 events, and had an extensive knowledge of peculiar speci- 
 mens of human nature, closely watched the behavior of the 
 black sheik. 
 
 " He no like us," he remarket! to the whites. ' He nebb« 
 be slave. Bom-by ycu see him go dead." 
 
200 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 TWO FAITHFUL WIVES. 
 
 WHILE Golali's mind appeared to be stunned almoat 
 to unconsciousness by the refusal of Fatima to 
 obey his orders, his other two wives were moving about, as 
 if engaged in some domestic duty. 
 
 Presently the woman he had buried in the sand was seen 
 going towards him with a calabash of water, followed by the 
 other who carried a dish of sangJeh. 
 
 One of the Arabs perceiving their intention, ran up, and, 
 in an angry tone, commanded them to retire to their tents. 
 The two women persisted in their design, and in order to 
 prevent them, without using violence, the Arab offered to 
 serve the food and drink himself. 
 
 This they permitted him to do ; but when the water was 
 offered to Golah it was again refused. 
 
 The black sheik would not receive either food or drink 
 from the hand of a master. 
 
 The sangleh was then consumed by the Arab with a real 
 or sham profession of gratitude ; the water was poured into 
 a bucket, and given to one of the camels ; and the two cal- 
 abashes were returned to the women. 
 
 Neither a keen longing for food, nor a burning thirst 
 for water, could divert Golah's thoughts from the contem- 
 plation of sometliing that was causing his soul extreme 
 anguish. 
 
 His physical tortures seemed, for the time, extinguished 
 by some deep mental agony. 
 
 Again the wives — the unloved ones — advanced towardi 
 him, bearing water and food ; and again the Arab ste})pe<3 
 forward to intercept them. Tlie two women persisted id 
 their design, and, while opposuig the efforts of the Ai'ab to 
 
TWO FAITHFUL WIVES 201 
 
 iurn them back, tliey called on the two youths, the relatiyei 
 of the black sheik, as also on Fatima, to assist them. 
 
 Of the thi-ce persons thus appealed to, only Golah's son 
 obeyed their summons ; but his attempt to aid the women 
 was immediately frustrated by the Arab, who claimed him 
 as a slave, and who now commanded him to stand aside. 
 His command having no effect, the Arab proceeded to use 
 force. At the risk of his life the youth resisted. He dared 
 to use violence against a master — a crime that on the des- 
 ert demands the punishment of death. 
 
 Aroused from his painful reverie by the commotion going 
 on around him, Golah, seeing the folly of the act, shouted to 
 his son to be calm, and yieM obedience ; but the youth, not 
 heeding the command of his ftither, continued his resistance. 
 He was just on the point of being cut down, when the Kroo- 
 man ran forward, and pronouncing in Arabic two words sig- 
 nifying " father and son," saved the youth's life. The Arab 
 robber had sufficient respect for the relationship to stay his 
 hand from committing murder ; but to prevent any further 
 trouble with the young fellow, he was seized by several 
 others, fast bound, and flung to the ground by the side of 
 his father. 
 
 The two women, still persisting in their design to relieve 
 the wants of their unfortunate husband, were then knocked 
 down, kicked, beaten, and finally dragged inside the tents. 
 
 This scene was witnessed by Fatima ; who, instead of 
 showing sympathy, appeared highly amused by it, — so much 
 so as even to give way to laughter ! Her unnatural behavior 
 once more roused the indignation of her husband. 
 
 The wrong of being robbed — the humiliation of being 
 bound — the knowledge that he himself, along with his chil- 
 dren, would be sold into slavery — the torture of hunger and 
 thirst — were sources of misery no longer heeded by Iiira; 
 all were fofgotten in the contemplation of a far great«'r %" 
 guish. 
 
202 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Fatima, the favorite, the woman to where, his v?ord should 
 have beeu law, — the woman who had always j)retended to 
 think him something more than mortal, — now not only shun- 
 ning lut despising liim in the midst of his misfortunes! 
 
 This knowledge did more towards subduing the giant than 
 all his other sufferings eorabined. 
 
 " Old Golah looks very down in the mouth," remarked 
 Terence to his companions. "If it was not for the beating 
 he gave me yesterday, I could almost pity him. I made an 
 oath, at the time he was thwacking me with the ramrod, that 
 if my hands were ever again at liberty, I 'd see if it was 
 possible to kill him ; but now that they are free, and his are 
 bound, I 've not the heart to touch him, bad as he is." 
 
 "That is right, Terry," said Bill; "it's only wimin an' 
 bits o' boys as throws wather on a drowned rat, — not as I 
 aiane to say the owld rascal is past mischief yet. I believe 
 he '11 do some more afore the Devil Uikes 'im intirely ; but I 
 mane that Him as sits up aloft is able to do His own work 
 witliout your heljting Him. 
 
 " You speak truth, Bill," said Harry ; " I don't think 
 there is any necessity for seeking revenge of Golah for his 
 cruel treatment of us ; he is now as ill oiY as the rest of us." 
 
 " What is that you say ? " inquired Colin. " Golah like 
 one of us ? Nothing of the kind. He has moie pluck, en- 
 durance, obstinacy, and true manly spirit about him than 
 there is in the four of us combined." 
 
 " Was his attempt to starve you dictated by a manly spir- 
 it?" asked Harry. 
 
 " Perliaps not, but it was the fault ol' the circumstancog 
 under which he has been educated. I don 't think of that 
 now ; my admiration of the man is too strong. Look at his 
 refusing that di-ink of water when it had been several times 
 offered hiin ! " 
 
 " Tlusre is something wonderful about him, certainly," as* 
 seuted Harry; "but 1 don't sec anytliing in him to admire." 
 
TWO FAITHFUL WIVES 203 
 
 "No more do I," said Bill. " He might he as comfortable 
 cow as we are ; aud I say a man 's a fool as won't he 'appy 
 when he can." 
 
 " Wliat you call his folly," rejoined Colin, "is but a noblo 
 pride that makes him superior to any of us. He has a spirit 
 that will not submit to slavery, and we have not." 
 
 " That be truth," remarked the Krooman ; " Golah neb- 
 bar be slave." 
 
 Colin was right. By accepting food and drink from his 
 captors, the black sheik might have satisfied the demands of 
 mere animal nature, but only at the sacrifice of all that was 
 noble in his nature. His self-respect, along with the proud, 
 unyielding spirit by which everything good and great is ac- 
 complished, would have been gone from him foi" ever. 
 
 Sailor Bill and his companions, the boy slaves, had been 
 taught from childhood to yield to circumstances, and still 
 retain some moral feeling ; but Golah had not. 
 
 The only thing he could yield to adverse fate was his life. 
 
 At this moment the Krooman, by a gesture, called their 
 attention towards the captive sheik, at the same time giving 
 itterance to a sharp ejaculation. 
 
 " Look ! " exclaimed lie, " Golah no stay longer on de 
 Saiira. You him see soon die now — look at him ! " 
 
 At the same instant Golah had risen to his feet, inviting 
 bis Arab master to a conference. 
 
 " There is but one God," said he, " Mahomet is his proph- 
 et ; and I am his servant. I will never be a slave. Give 
 me one wife, a camel, and my scimitar, and I will go. I 
 have been robbed ; but God is great, and it is his will, and 
 my destiny." 
 
 Golah had at lengtli yielded, though not because tliat he 
 suffered for frod and water ; not that he feared slavery or 
 death; not that his proud spiiit had become weak or given 
 way ; but rather that it had gro\vn stronger under the 
 prompti'ig cf Revenae. 
 
204 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 The Aral) sheik conferred with his followers ; and thert 
 arose a brief controversy among thern. 
 
 The trouble they had with their gigantic captive, the diffi< 
 culty they anticipated m disposing of him, and their belief 
 that he was a good Mussulman, were arguments in favor of 
 granting bis request, and setting him at liberty. 
 
 It was therefore decided to let him go — on the condition 
 of his taking his departure at once. 
 
 Golah consented ; and they proceeded to mi tie his hands. 
 While this was being done, the Krooman ran up to Coliu's 
 master, and cautioned him to protect his slave, until the sheik 
 had departed. 
 
 Tiiis warning was unnecessary, for Golah had other and 
 more serious thoughts to engage his mind than that of any 
 auiiiiosity he might once have felt against the young Scotch- 
 man. 
 
 " I am free," said Golah, when his hands were untied. 
 " "We are equals, and Mussulmen. I claim your hospitality. 
 Give me some food and drink." 
 
 He then stepped forward to the well, and quenched his 
 thirst, after which some boiled camel meat was placed before 
 him. 
 
 While he was appeasing an appetite that had been two 
 days in gaining strength, Fatima, who had observed a strange 
 expression in his eyes, appeared to be in great consternation. 
 She had believed him doomed to a hfe of slavery, if not to 
 death ; and this belief had inliuenced her in her late ao- 
 tion3. 
 
 Gliding up to the Arab sheik, she entreated to be sepa- 
 rated from her husband ; but the only answer she received 
 was, that Golah should liave either of the three wives he 
 choso to take ; that he (the sheik) and his companions were 
 men of honor, who would not break the promise they had 
 given. 
 
 A goat-skin of water, some bailey meal, for maJiing sunt/- 
 
FATIMA'S FATE. 205 
 
 kk, and a few other necessary articles, were placed on a 
 camel, which was delivered over to Golah. 
 
 The black sheik then addi-essed a few words in some 
 African language to his son ; and, calling Fatima to follow 
 him, he started off across the desert. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 fatima's fate. 
 
 A COMPLETE change had come over the fortimes of 
 Fatima. Vain, cruel, and tyrannical but the moment 
 before, she was now humbled to the dust of the desert. In 
 place of commanding her fellow wives, she now approached 
 them with entreaties, begging them to take charge of her 
 child, which she seemed determined to leave behind her 
 Both willingly assented to her wishes. 
 
 Our adventurers were puzzled by this circumstance, for 
 there appeared to be no reason that Fatima should leave her 
 offspring behind her. Even the Krooman could not explain 
 it ; and as the shades of night descended over the desert, 
 the mother separated from her child, perhaps never more to 
 embrace it in this world of wickedness and woe. 
 
 About two hours before daybreak, on the morning after 
 the leparture of Golah, there was an alann m the douar, 
 which created amongst the Arabs a wonderful excitement. 
 
 The man who had been keeping guard over the camp was 
 not to be seen ; and one of the fleetest camels, as well as a 
 swift desert horse, was also gone. 
 
 The slaves were instantly mustered, when it was found 
 that 31:3 of them was likewise missing. It was Golah'i 
 4on. 
 
206 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 His absence accounted for the loss ©f the camel, and peB 
 haps the horse, but what had become of the Arab guard ? 
 
 He certainly would not have absconded with the slavey 
 for he had left valuable proi)erty behind him. 
 
 There was no time for exchanging surmises over this mys- 
 tery. Pursuit must be instantly made for the recovery of 
 slave, camel, and horse. 
 
 The Arab sheik detailed four of his followers to this duty, 
 and they hastened to make ready for their departure. They 
 would start as soon as the light of day should enable them 
 to see the course the missing animals had taken. 
 
 All believed that the fugitives would have to be sought for 
 in a southerly direction ; and therefore the cai'avan would 
 have to be further delayed in its journey. 
 
 "While maldng preparations for the pursuit, another un- 
 pleasant discovery was made. Two ship's muskets, that had 
 been taken from Golah's party were also missing. 
 
 They had been extracted from a tent in which two of the 
 Arabs had slept, — two of the four who were now preparing 
 to search for the missing property. 
 
 The sheik became alarmed. The camp seemed full of 
 traitors ; and yet, as the guns were the private property of 
 the two men who slept in the tent, they could not, for losing 
 them, reasonably be accused of anything more than stupidity 
 
 Contrary to the anticipations of all, the tracks of the lost 
 animals were found to lead off in a north-westerly direction ; 
 and at about two hundred yards from the camp a dark ob- 
 ject was seen lying upon the ground. On examination it 
 proved to be the Arab who had been appointed niglit-guard 
 over the douar. 
 
 He was stone dead ; and by his side lay one of the miss- 
 ing muskets, with the stock broken, and covered with his 
 own brains. 
 
 The tragedy was not difficult to be explained. The mac 
 bad seen one or twc of the hoppled animals straying from 
 
FATIMA'S FATE. 207 
 
 the camp. Not tliinkiag that they were being led gentJj 
 away, he had, without giv'ng any alarm, gone out to bring 
 them back. Gohdi's son, who was leading them off, by 
 keeping concealed behind one of the animals, had found an 
 opportunity of giving the guard his death-blow, without any 
 noise to disturb the slumbering denizens of the donar. 
 
 No doubt he had gone to rejoin his father, and the adroit 
 manner in which he had made his departure, taking with 
 him a musket, a camel, and a horse, not only excited the 
 wonder, but the admiration of those from whom he had 
 stolen them. 
 
 In the division of the slaves, young Harry Blount and 
 the Krooman had become the property of the Arab sheik. 
 The Krooman having some knowledge of the Arabic lan- 
 guage, soon established himself in the good opinion of his 
 new master. While the Arabs were discussing the most 
 available mode to obtain revenge for the murder of their 
 companion, as well as to regain possession of the property 
 they had lost, the Krooman, skilled in Golah's character, 
 volunteered to assist them by a little advice. 
 
 Pointing to the south, he suggested to them that, by going 
 in that direction, they would certainly see or hear some- 
 thing of Golah and his son. 
 
 The sheik could the more readily believe this, since the 
 country of the black chief lay to the southward, and Golah, 
 on leaving the douar, had gone in that direction. 
 
 " But why did his dog of a son not go south ? " inquired 
 the Arabs, pointing to tlie tracks of the stolen horse, which 
 still appeared to lead towards the northwest. 
 
 " If you go north," replied the Krooman, " you will be 
 Bure to see Golah ; or if you stay here, you will learn some- 
 thing of him ? " 
 
 " What ! will he be in both directions at the same time, 
 *nd here likewise ? " 
 
 "No, not that; but he will follow you.* 
 
208 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 The Arabs wore willirg to believe that there was a 
 chance of recovering their property on the road they had 
 been intending to follow, especially as the stolen horse and 
 camel had been taken in that direction. 
 
 They determined, therefore, to continue their journey. 
 
 Too late they perceived their folly in treating Gohili as 
 they had done. He was now beyond their reach, and, in 
 all likelihood, had been rejoined by his son. He was an ene- 
 my against whom they would liave to keep a constant watch ; 
 and the thought of this caused the old Arab sheik to swear 
 by the Prophet's beard that he would never again show 
 mercy to a man whom he had plundered. 
 
 For about an hour after resuming their march, the foot- 
 prints of the camel could be traced in the direction they 
 wished to go ; but gradually they became less perceptible, 
 until at length they were lost altogether. A smart breeze 
 had been blowing, which had filled the tracks with sand, 
 which was liglit and easily disturbed. 
 
 Trusting to chance, and still with some hope of recover- 
 ing the stolen property, they continued on in the same di- 
 rection, and, not long after losing the tracks, they found 
 some fresh evidence that they were going the riglit way. 
 
 The old sheik, who was riding in advance of the others, 
 on looking to the right, perceived an object on the sand that 
 demanded a closer inspection. He turned and rode towards 
 it, closely followed by the people of his party. 
 
 On drawing near to the object it proved to be the body 
 of a human being, lying back upwards, and yet with the face 
 turned full towards the heavens. Tlie features were at once 
 recognized as those of Fatiraa, the flivorite ! 
 
 The head of the unfortunate woman had been severed 
 from her body, and then placed contiguous to it, with the 
 face in an inverted position. 
 
 The ghastly spectacle was instructive. It proved that 
 Golfth, although going off southward, must have turned back 
 
FURTHER DEFECTION. 209 
 
 again, and was now not far off, hovering about the track he 
 believed his enemies would be likely to take. His son, 
 moreover, was, in all likelihood, along with him. 
 
 When departing along with her husband, Fatima had 
 probably anticipated the terrible fate that awaited her ; and, 
 for that reason, had left her child in the care of the other 
 wives. 
 
 Neither of these seemed in the least surprised on discov- 
 ering the body. Both had surmised that such would be 
 Fatima's fate ; and it was for that reason they had so wil- 
 lingly taken charge of her child. 
 
 The caravan made a short halt, which was taken advan* 
 tage of by the two women to cover the body with sand. 
 
 The journey was then resumed. 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 FURTHER DEFECTION. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING that Golah's brother-in-law, 
 who had formerly been a freeman, was now a slave, 
 he seemed well satisfied with the change in his circum- 
 Btances. 
 
 He made himself very useful to his new masters in look- 
 ing after the camel, and doing all the other necessary work 
 which his knowledge of Saiiran life enabled him effectually 
 to execute. 
 
 When the Arab caravan came to a halt on the evening 
 of his first day's journey along with it, he assisted in un- 
 loading the camels, putting the hopples on them, pitching 
 the tents, and doing anything else which was required to he 
 done. 
 
 IT 
 
210 THE BOY SLAVi:S. 
 
 While tLe other slaves were eating the small portion oi 
 food allowed them, one of the camels formerly belonging to 
 Golah — a young and fleet raaherry that had been ridden by 
 Fatima, strayed a short distance from the douar. Seeing it 
 the black sheik's brother-in-law, who had been making him 
 self so useful, ran after the animal as if to fetch it back. He 
 was seen passing beyond the camel, as though he intended 
 turning it toward the camp ; but in another instant it was 
 discovered that he had no such design. The youth was 
 seen to spring to the back of the maherry, lay hold of its 
 hump, and ride rapidly away. Accustomed to hearing the 
 Bound of his voice, the faithful and intelligent animal obeyed 
 his words of command. Its neck was suddenly craned out 
 towards the north ; and its feet were flung forward in long 
 strides that bore its rider rapidly away from the rest. The 
 incident caused a tremendous commotion in the caravan. It 
 was so wholly unexpected, that none of the Arabs were pre- 
 pared to intercept the fugitive. The guard for the night 
 had not been appointed. They were all seated on the 
 ground, engaged in devouring their evening repast, and be- 
 fore a musket could be discharged at the runaway, he had 
 got so far into the glimmering twilight that the only effect of 
 two or three shots fired after him was to quicken the pace of 
 the maherry on which he was fleeing. 
 
 Two fleet horses were instantly saddled and mounted, one 
 by the owner of the camel that had been stolen, and the 
 other by the owner of the slave who had stolen it. 
 
 Each, arming himself with musket and scimitar, felt sure 
 of recapturing the runaway. Their only doubt arose from 
 the knowledge of the swiftness of the maherry, and that its 
 rider was favored by the approaching darkness. 
 
 The whole encampment was by this time under arms 
 and after the departure of the pursuers, the sheik gathered 
 all the slaves togetlier, and swore by the beard of the 
 Piophet that they should all be killed, and that he would 
 
FURTHER DEFECTION. 211 
 
 Aet the example by killing the two belonging to liimsel^ 
 whicli were Hany Blount and the Kiooman. Several of 
 his followers liroceeded to relieve their excitement by each 
 beating the slave or slaves that were his own property, and 
 amongst these irate slave-owners was the master of Sailor 
 Bill. The old man-o-war's-man was cudgelled till his objec- 
 tions to involuntary servitude were loudly expressed, and in 
 the strongest terras that English, Scotch, and Irish could fur- 
 nish for the purpose. 
 
 "When the rage of the old gheik had to some extent sub- 
 sided, he procured a leathern thong, and declared that his 
 two slaves should be fast bound, and never released as long 
 as they remained in his possession. 
 
 " Talk to him," exclaimed Hai-ry to the Krooman ; " tell 
 him, in his own language, that God is great, and that he is 
 a fool ! We don't wish to escape, — certainly not at pres- 
 ent." 
 
 Thus counselled, the Krooman explained to the sheik that 
 the white slaves, as well as himself, who had sailed in Eng- 
 lish sliips, had no intention of running away, but wished to 
 be taken north, where they might be ransomed ; and that 
 they were not such fools as to part from him in a place where 
 they would certainly starve. The Krooman also informed 
 the sheik that they were all very glad at being taken out of 
 the hands of Golah, who would have carried them to Tim- 
 buctoo, whence they never could have returned, but must 
 have ended their days in slavery. 
 
 "While the Krooman was talking to the sheik, several of 
 the others came up and listened. The black further in- 
 formed them that the white slaves had friends living in Aga- 
 deer and Swearah (Santa Cruz and Mogador), — friends 
 who would pay a large price to ransom them. "Why, then, 
 should they try to escape while journeying towards the place 
 where those friends were living ? 
 
 The Krooman went on to say that the yc»ung man who 
 
212 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 had just made off was Golah's brother-in-law ; that, unlika 
 themsehes, in going north he would not be seeking freedom 
 but perpetual slavery, and for that reason he had gone tr 
 rejoin Golah and his son. 
 
 This explanation seemed eo reasonable to the Arabs, that 
 their fears for the safety of their slaves soon subsided, and 
 the latter were permitted to repose in peace. 
 
 As a i:)recautionary measure, however, two men were kept 
 moving in a circle around the douar throughout the whole 
 of the night ; but no disturbance arose, and morning returned 
 without bringing back the two men who had gone in pursuit 
 of the cunning runaway. 
 
 The distance to the next watering-place was too great to 
 admit of any delay being made ; and the journey was re- 
 sumed, in the hope that the two missing men would be met 
 on the way. 
 
 This hope was realized. 
 
 All along the route the old sheik, who rode in advance, 
 kept scanning the horizon, not only ahead, but to the right 
 and left of their course. About ten miles from their night's 
 halting-place he was seen to swerve suddenly from his 
 course, and advance towards something that had attracted 
 his attention. His followers hastened after him, — all ex- 
 cept the two women and their children, who hngered a long 
 way behind. 
 
 Lying on the ground, their bodies contiguous to each 
 other, were the two Arabs who had gone in pursuit of the 
 Tunaway. 
 
 They were both dead. 
 
 One of them had been shot with a musket ball that had 
 penetrated his skull, entering directly between his teriples. 
 The other had been cut down with a scimitar, his body be» 
 bg almost severed in twain. 
 
 The youth who had fled the night before, had evidently 
 come up with Golah and his son ; and the two men wbf 
 
FURTHER DEFECTION. 213 
 
 had pursued him bad lost their lives, their animals, mus- 
 kets, and scimitars. 
 
 Golali now had two accomplices, and the three were well 
 moLintfd and well armed. 
 
 The anger of tlic Aji'abs was frightful to behold. They 
 turned tovvards the two women whom they knew to be Go- 
 lah's wives. The latter had thrown themselves on their 
 knees and were screaming and supplicating for mercy. 
 
 Some of the Arabs would have killed them on the instant ; 
 but were prevented by the old sheik, who, although himself 
 wild with rage, had still sufficient reason left to tell him that 
 tl)« unfortunate women were not answerable for the acts of 
 their husband. Our adventurers found reason to regret the 
 misfortune that had befallen their new masters ; for they 
 could not but regard with alarm the returning power of Go- 
 lah. 
 
 " "We shall fall into his hands again," exclaimed Terence. 
 '' lie will kill all these Arabs one after another, and obtain 
 all be has lost, ourselves included. We shall yet be driven 
 to Tirabuctoo." 
 
 " Th^n we should deserve it," cried Hfirry, " for it will 
 partly ba our own fault, if ever we fall into Golah's power 
 again." 
 
 " I don't think so," said Bill, " Golah is a wondersome 
 man, and as got somethin' more nor human natur' to 'elp 'im, 
 I think jvs 'ow if we should see 'im 'alf a mile off, signalizin' 
 for us V) follow 'im, we should 'ave to go. I 've tried my 
 hand at disobeyin' his orders, ar d don't do it again, — net if 
 I knows it." 
 
 The expressions of anger hitherto portrayed on the coun- 
 tenances of the Arabs, had given place to those of anxiety. 
 They knew that an enemy was hovering around them, — an 
 enemy whom they had wronged, — whose power they had 
 undei-valued, and whom they had foolishly restored to lib- 
 erty. 
 
214 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 The bodies of their companions were hastily inteiTed lu 
 the sand, and their journey nortliward was once more re* 
 limed. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 A CALL FOR TWO MORE. 
 
 THE sufferings of the slaves for water and food again 
 commenced, while the pace at which they were com- 
 pelled to travel, to keep up with the camels, soon exhausted 
 the little strength they had acquired from the rest by the 
 well. 
 
 During the long afternoon following the burial of the two 
 Arabs, each of the boy slaves at different times declared his 
 utter inability to proceed any farther. 
 
 They were mistaken ; and had yet to learn something of 
 the power which love of life exerts over the body. 
 
 They knew that to linger bir-hind would be death. They 
 did not desire to die, and therefore struggled on. 
 
 Like men upon a treadmill, they were compelled to keep 
 on moving, although neither able nor willing. 
 
 The hour of sunset found them wading through sand that 
 had lately been stirred by a storm. It was nearly as light 
 and loose as snow ; and the toil of moving through it Avas 
 so wearisome, that the mounted Arabs, having some pity on 
 those who had walked, halted eaily for the night. Two 
 men were appointed to guard the camp in the fame manner 
 as upon the night before ; and with the feelings of hunger 
 and thirst partly appeased, weary with the toils of day, our 
 adventurers were soon in a sound slumber. Around them, 
 and half-buriod in the soft sard, lay stretched the othei den 
 izens of the douar, all slumberini: likewise. 
 
A CALL FOR TWO MORE. 215 
 
 Then rest remained undisturbed until that darkest hout 
 of the night, just before the dawning of day. They were 
 then startled from sleep by the report of a musket, — a re- 
 port that was immediately followed by another in the op- 
 posite direction. The donar was instantly in wild confusion. 
 
 The Arabs seized their weapons, and rushed forth from 
 among the tents. 
 
 One of the party that ran in the direction in which the 
 first shot was heard, seeing a man coming towards them, in 
 the excitement of the moment fired his musket, and shot 
 the individual who Avas advancing, who proved to be cue of 
 those entrusted with the guard of the camp. 
 
 No enemies could be discovered. They had fled, leaving 
 the two camp-guards in the agonies of <leath. 
 
 Some of the Arabs would have rushed wildly hither and 
 thither, in search of the unseen foe, but were prevented by 
 the sheik, who, fearing that all would be lost, should the 
 douar be deserted by the armed men, shouted the signal for 
 all his followers to gather around him. 
 
 The two wounded men were brought into a tent, where, 
 in a few minutes, one of them — the man who had been shot 
 by one of his companions — breathed his last. He had also 
 received a wound from the first shot that had been heard, 
 his right arm having been shattered by a musket-ball. 
 
 The spine of the other guard had been broken by a bullet, 
 so that recovery was clearly impossible. 
 
 He had evidently heard the first shot fired at his compan- 
 ion from the opposite side of the camp : and was turning his 
 back upon the foe that had attacked himself. 
 
 The light of day soon slione upon the scene, and they were 
 able to perceive how their enemies had approached so near 
 *J)e camp without being observed. 
 
 About a hundred paces from where tne guards had been 
 staiiding at the time tlie first two shots were fired, was a 
 furrow or ravine running through the soft sand. 
 
216 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 This ravine branched into two lesser ones, including 
 within their angle the Arab camp, as also the sentinels sta- 
 tioned to guard it. 
 
 Up the branches the midnight murderers had silently 
 (Ft jlen, each taking a side ; and in this way had got within 
 easy distance of the ursuspecting sentries. 
 
 In the bottom of one of the furrows, where the sand waa 
 more firmly compacted, was found the impression of human 
 footsteps. 
 
 The tracks had been made by some person hurriedly leav- 
 ing the spot. 
 
 " Dis be de track ob Golah," said the Krooman to Harry, 
 after he had examined it. " He made um when runnin' 'way 
 after he fire da musket." 
 
 " Very likely," said Harry ; " but how do you know it ia 
 Golali's track ? " 
 
 " 'Cause G(jlah hab largess feet in all de world, and no 
 feet but his make dat mark." 
 
 " I tell you again," said Terence, who overheard the Kroo- 
 man's remark, " we shall have to go with Golah to Timbuc- 
 too. We belong to him. These Arabs are only keeping us 
 for a few days, but they will all be killed yet, and we shall 
 have to follow the black sheik in the opposite direction." 
 
 Harry made no reply to this prophetic speech. Certain- 
 ly, there was a prospect of its proving true. 
 
 Four Arabs out of tiie eleven of which their party was 
 originally composed, were already dead, while still another 
 was dying ! 
 
 Sailor Bill pronounced Golah, witli his son and brothor- 
 iti-law, quite a match for the six who were left. The black 
 slieik, lie tliought, was equal to any four of their present 
 masters in strength, cunning, and determination. 
 
 " But the Arabs have us to help them," remarked Colin. 
 " We should count for something." 
 
 " So we do, — as merchandise," replied Harry ; " we have 
 
A CALL FOR TWO MORE. 217 
 
 hitherto been helpless as children in protecting ourselves. 
 What can we do ? The boasted superiority of our race or 
 country cannot be true here in the desert. We are out of 
 our element." 
 
 *' Yes, that 's sartain ! " exclaimed Bill ; " but we 're not 
 far from it. Shiver my timbers if I don 't smell salt water 
 Be Jabers ! if we go on towards the west we shall see th« 
 say afore night." 
 
 During this dialogue the Arabs were holding a consulta- 
 tion as to what they should do. 
 
 To divide the camp, and send some after their enemies, 
 was pronounced impolitic : the party sent in pursuit, and 
 that left to guard the caravan, — either would be too weak 
 if attacked by their truculent enemy. 
 
 In union alone was strength, and they resolved to remain 
 together, believing that they should have a visit from Golah 
 again, while better prepared to receive him. 
 
 The footprints leading out from the two ravines were 
 traced for about a mile in the direction they wished to 
 follow. 
 
 The tracks of camels and horses were there found ; and 
 they could tell by the signs that their enemies had mounted 
 and ridden off towards the west. 
 
 They possibly might have avoided meeting Golah again 
 by going eastward ; but, from their knowledge of the desert, 
 no water was to be found in that direction in less than five 
 days' journey. 
 
 Moreover, they did not yet wish to avoid him. They 
 thirsted for revenge, and were impatient to move on ; for a 
 journey of two days was still before them before they coiUd 
 hope to arrive at tlie nearest water. 
 
 When every preparation had been made to resume their 
 route, there was one obstacle in the way of their taking an 
 immediate departure. 
 
 Their wounded companion was not yet defunct. They 
 10 
 
218 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Baw it would bo impossible foi- him to live much longer ; fol 
 the lower part of his body, — all below the shattered portion 
 of the spine, — appeared already without life. A few hours 
 at most would terminate his sufferings ; but for the expira- 
 tion of those few hours, — or minutes, as fate should decide, 
 — his companions seemed unwilling to wait! 
 
 They dug a hole in the sand near where the wounded 
 man was lying. This was but the work of a {"ew minutes. 
 As soon as the grave was completed, the eyes of all were 
 once more turned upon the wretched sufferer. 
 
 He was still alive, and by piteous moans expressing the 
 agony he was enduring. 
 
 " BismUlah ! " exclaimed the old sheik, " why do you not 
 die, my friend ? We are waiting for the fulfilment of your 
 destiuy." 
 
 " I am dead," ejaculated the sufferer, speaking in a faint 
 voice, and apparently with great difficulty. 
 
 Having said this, he relapsed into silence, and remained 
 motionless as a corpse. 
 
 The sheik then placed one hand upon his temples. " Yes !" 
 he exclaimed, " the words of our friend are those of truth and 
 wisdom. He is dead." 
 
 The wounded man was then rolled into the cavity which 
 had been scooped out, and they hastily proceeded to cover 
 him with sand. 
 
 As they did so, his hands were repeatedly uphfted, while 
 a low moaning came from his lips ; but his movements were 
 apparently unseen, and his cries of agony unnoticed ! 
 
 His companions remained both deaf and blind to any 
 evidence that might refute his own assertion that he was 
 dead. 
 
 The sand was at length heaped up, so as completely to 
 cover hid body, when^ by.an order from the old sluik, his 
 followers turned away from the spot and the Kalila moved 
 on i 
 
ONCE MOEE BY THE SEA. 219 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 ONCE MORE BY THE SEA. 
 
 SAILOR BILL'S conjecture that they were net far from 
 the sea proved correct. 
 
 On the evening of that same day they saw the sun sink 
 down into a shining horizon, which they knew was not that 
 of the burning sand-plain over which they had been so long 
 moving. 
 
 That faint and distant xiew of his favorite element was a 
 joyful moment for the old sailor. 
 
 " "We are in sight of home ! " he exclaimed. " Shiver mj 
 timbers if I ever lose sight of it again ! I shan't be buried in 
 the sand. If I must go under alive, it shall be under water, 
 like a Christyun. If I could swim, I 'd start right off for 
 Hold Hingland as soon as Ave get to yonder shore." 
 
 The boy slaves were alike inspired with hope and joy at 
 the f?istant view. 
 
 The sea was still too far off to be reached tliat night, and 
 the iouar was pitched about live miles from the shore. 
 
 During this night, three of the Arabs were kept con- 
 stantly on guard ; but the camp was not disturbed, and next 
 morning they resumed their journey, some with the hope, and 
 others with the fear, that Golah would trouble them no more. 
 
 The Arabs wished to meet him during the hours of day- 
 light, and secure the property they had lost ; and from their 
 knowledge of the part of the desert they were now travers- 
 ing, thoy were in hopes of doing this. They knew there 
 was bv't one place within two days' journey where fresh 
 water could be obtained ; and should they succeed in reach- 
 ing this place before Golah, they could lie in wait for hia 
 arrival. They were certain he must visit this watering- 
 place to save hii animals from perishing -with thirst. 
 
220 TEE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 At noonday a halt was made not far from the beaca. 
 It was only foi* a short while ; for they were anxious t« 
 reach the well as soon as possible. The few minutes spent 
 at the halting-place were well employed by the bey slaves 
 in gathering shell-Ash and bathing their bodies in the surf. 
 
 Refreshed by this luxurious food, as well as ly the wash- 
 ing, of which tliey were greatly in need, they were able tr 
 proceed at a better pace ; so tliat about an hour before sun 
 set the caravan arrived at the well. 
 
 Just before reaching it, the old sheik and one of his com 
 panions had dismounted and walked forward to examine 
 such tracks as might be found about the place. They were 
 chagrined to find that Golah had been before. He had been 
 to the well, and obtained a supply of water. His footmarks 
 were easily identified. They were fresh, having been made 
 but an hour or two before the arrival of the caravan ; and 
 in i^lace of their having to wait for Golah, he was undoubt- 
 edly waiting for them. They felt sure that the black sheik 
 was not far oiF, watching for a favorable opportunity of again 
 paying them a nocturnal visit. They could now understand 
 why he had not attempted to molest them on the preceding 
 night. He had been hastening forward, in order to reach 
 the well in advance of them. 
 
 The apprehensions of the Ai'abs became keener and 
 Keener alter tliis discovery. Tliey were also much puzzled 
 as to what they should do ; and a diversity of ^oinion arose 
 as to the best plan for guarding the camp against their im- 
 placable foe. Some were in favor of staying by the well 
 for several days, until the supply of water which their ene- 
 my had taken with him should be exhausted. Golah would 
 then have to revisit the well, or perish of thirst upon the 
 desert. The idea was an ingenious one, but unfortunately 
 theii' stock of provisions would not admit of any delay, and 
 it was resohed that the journey should bo resumed af 
 once. 
 
ONCE MORE BY THE SEA. 221 
 
 Just at} they were preparing to move away from the well, 
 a caravan of traders arrived from the south, and the old 
 sheik made anxious inquiries as to whether the new-comers 
 had seen any one on their route. The traders, to whom 
 the caravan belonged, had that morning met three men who 
 answered to the description of Golah and his companions. 
 They were journeying south, and had purchased a small 
 supply of food from the caravan. 
 
 Could it be that Golah liad given up the hope of recover 
 ing his lost property ? relinquished his deadly purpose of 
 revenge ? The Arabs professed much unwillingness to be- 
 lieve it. Some of them loudly proposed starting southward 
 in pursuit. But this proposition was overruled, and it was 
 evident that the old sheik, as well as most of his followers, 
 were in reality pleased to tliink tliat Golah would trouble 
 them no more. 
 
 The sheik decreed that the property of those who had 
 perished should be divided amongst those who survived. 
 This giving universal satisfaction, the Arab Kafila took its 
 departure, leaving the caravan of the traders by the well, 
 where they were intending to remain for some time longer. 
 
 Shortly after leaving the well, the old sheik ordered a 
 halt by the seashore, where he stopped long enough for his 
 slaves to gather some shell-fish, enough to satisfy the hun- 
 ger of all his followers. 
 
 A majority of the Arabs were under the belief that the 
 black sheik had started at last for his own country — satis- 
 fied with the revenge he had already taken. They seemed 
 to think that keeping watch over the camp would no longer 
 be necessary. 
 
 With this opinion their Krooman captive did not agree ; 
 and, fearing to fall again into the possession of Golah, he 
 labored to convince his new master that they were as likely 
 that night to receive a visit fiom t'ae black sheik as they 
 bad ever l)een before. 
 
222 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 He argued that, if Golah had entertained a hope of de» 
 feating his foes — eleven in number — when aloes, and 
 armed only with a scimitar, he certainly would not be likely 
 to relinquish that hope after having succeeded in killing 
 nearly half of them, and being strengthened by a couple of 
 able assistants. 
 
 The Krooman believed that Golah's going south, — as 
 reported by the party met at the well, — was proof that 
 he really intended proceeding north ; and he urged the 
 Arab s^eik to set a good guard over the douar through the 
 eight. 
 
 " Tell him," said Harry, " if they are not inclined to keep 
 guard for themselves, that we will stand it, if they will only 
 allow us to have weapons of some kind or othei*." 
 
 The Krooman made this communication to tlie Arab sheik, 
 who smiled only in reply. 
 
 The idea of allowing slaves to guard an Arab douar, espe- 
 cially to furnish them with fire-arms, was Very amusing to 
 the old chieftain of the Saiira. 
 
 Harry understood the meaning of his smile. It meant 
 refusal ; but the young Englishman had also become im- 
 pressed with the danger suggested by Terence, that Golah 
 would yet kiU the Arabs, and take the boy slaves back to 
 Timbuctoo. 
 
 " Tell the sheik that he is an old fool," said he to the in- 
 terpreter ; " tell him that we have a greater objection to fall- 
 ing into the hands of Golah than he has of losing either us 
 or his own life. Tell him that we wish to go north, whei-e 
 we can be redeeme 1 ; and that for this reason alone we 
 should be far more careful than any of his own people in 
 gl arding the camp against surprise." 
 
 When this communication was made to the old sheik it 
 seemed to strike him as having some reason in it ; and, con- 
 vinced by the Krooman's arguments that there was still dan- 
 ger to be apprehended from Golah's vengeance, he directed 
 
ONCE MORE BY THE SEA. 223 
 
 that Iho douar should be strictly guarded, and that the wLita 
 slaves might take part iu the duty. 
 
 " You shall be takeu north, and sold to your countrymen,'* 
 promised he, " if you give us no trouble in the transit. There 
 are but few of my people left now, and it is hard for us to 
 travel all day and keep watch all night. If you are really 
 afraid of fiilling into the hands of this Prophet-accursed 
 negro, and will help us in guarding against his murderous 
 attacks, you are welcome to do so ; but if any one of you 
 attempt to play traitor, the whole four of you shall lose your 
 heads. I swear it by the beard of the Prophet ! " 
 
 The Krooman assured him that none of the white slaves 
 had any desire to deceive him, adding that self-interest, if 
 nothing else, would cause them to be true to those whc 
 would take them to a place where they would have a chance 
 of being ransomed out of slavery. 
 
 Darkness having by this time descended over the desert, 
 the sheik set about appointing the guard for the night. He 
 was too suspicious of his wliite slaves to allow all the four 
 of them to act as guards at the same time, while he and his 
 companions were asleep. He was willing, however, that 
 one of them should be allowed to keep watch in company 
 with one of his own followers. 
 
 In choosing the individual for this duty, he inquired from 
 the Krooman which of the four had been most ill-used by 
 the black shiek. Sailor Bill was pointed out as the man, 
 and the interpreter gave some details of the cruel treatment 
 to which the old man-o'-war's-man had been subjected at the 
 hjinds of Golah. 
 
 " Bismillah ! that is well," said the sheik. " Let him 
 keep the waich. After what you say, revenge should hin- 
 der him from closing his eyes in sleep for a whole naooa 
 There 's no fear that he will betray us." 
 
224 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 QOLAH CALLS AGAIN. 
 
 IN setting the watch for the night one of the sentinels was 
 stationed on the shore about a hundred yards north of 
 the douar. His instructions were to walk a round of about 
 two hundred paces, extending inward from, the beach. 
 
 Another was placed about the same distance south of the 
 canap, and was to pace backwards and forwards after a simi- 
 lar fashion. 
 
 Sailor Bill was stationed on the land side of the camp, 
 where he was to move to and fro between the beats of 
 the two Arab guards, each of whom, on discovering him at 
 the termination of his round, was to utter the word " Akka" 
 so that the sailor should distinguish them from an enemy. 
 
 The Arabs themselves were supposed to be sufficiently 
 intelligent to tell a friend from a foe without requiring any 
 countersign. 
 
 Before Bill was sent upon his beat, the old sheik went 
 into a tent, and soon after reappeared with a large pistol, 
 bearing a strong likeness to a blunderbuss. This weapon 
 he placed in the sailor's hand, with the injunction — trans- 
 lated to him by the interpreter — not to discharge it until 
 he should be certain of killing either Golah or one of his 
 companions. 
 
 The old sailor, although sorely fatigued with the toil of 
 the day's journey, had so great a horror of again becoming 
 the property of the black sheik, that he cheerfully promised 
 to " walk the deck all night, and keep a good lookout ibr 
 breakers," and his young companions sought repose in full 
 confidence that the promise would be faithfully kept. 
 
 Any one of the boy slaves would willingly have taken 
 his place, and allowed their old comrade to rest for the 
 
GOLAH CALLS AGAIN. 225 
 
 nighl ; but Bill had been selected by the old sheik, and from 
 his decree there was no appeal. 
 
 Tlie two Arabs doing duty as sentinels knew, from past 
 experience, that if the Kafila was still followed by Golah, 
 they would be the individuals most exposed to danger ; and 
 this knowledge was sufficient to stimulate them to the most 
 faithful discharge of their trust. 
 
 Neither of them wished to become victims to the fate 
 which had befallen their predecessors in office. 
 
 For two or three hours both paced slowly to and fro ; and 
 Bill, each time he approached the end of his beat, could 
 hear distinctly pronounced the word '•'•Alcha" which proved 
 that his co-sentinels were fully on the alert. 
 
 It so chanced that one of them had no faith in the general 
 belief that the enemy had relinquished his purposes san- 
 guinary of vengeance. 
 
 He drew his deductions from Golah's conduct in the past, 
 and during the long silent hours of the night his fancy was 
 constantly dwelling on the manner in which the dreaded 
 enemy had approached the douar on former occasions. 
 
 Tliis sentry was the one stationed to the south of the 
 douar ; and with eyes constantly striving to pierce the dark- 
 ness that shrouded the sand plain, the water, on which a 
 better light was reflected, received no attention from him. 
 He believed the douar well protected on the side of the sea, 
 for he had no idea that danger could come from that direc- 
 tion. 
 
 He was mistaken. 
 
 Had their enemies been, like himself and his compan- 
 ions, true children of the Saiira, his plan of watching for 
 their approach might have answered well enough ; but the 
 latter chanced to be the offspring of a different country and 
 race. 
 
 About three hours after the watch had been established, 
 the sentinel placed on the southern a'de of the douar 
 10* o 
 
226 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 was being closely observed by the black sheik, yet knew U 
 not. 
 
 Golah had chosen a singular plan to secure himself 
 against being observed, similar to that selected by the three 
 mids for the like purpose soon after their beuig cast awaj 
 upon the coast. 
 
 He had stolen into the water, and with only his woolly 
 occiput above the surface, had approached within a few yards 
 of the spot where the Arab sentry turned upon his round. 
 
 In the darkness of the night, at the distance of twelve or 
 fifteen paces, he might have been discovered, had a close 
 survey been made of the shining surface. But there was 
 no such survey, and Golah watched the sentinel, himself 
 unseen. 
 
 The attention of the Arab was wholly occupied in looking 
 for the approach of a foe from the land side ; and while he 
 was in continual fear of hearing the report of a musket, or 
 feeling the stroke of its bullet. 
 
 This disagreeable surprise he never expected could come 
 from the sea, but was so fully anticipated from the land, that 
 he paid but little or no attention to the restless waves that 
 were breaking with low moans against the beach. 
 
 As he turned his back upon the water for the hundredth 
 time, with the intention of walking to the other end of hia 
 beat, Golah crept gently out of the water and hastened after 
 him. 
 
 Tlie deep sigliiug of the waves against the sliingly shore 
 hindered tlie sound of footsteps I'rotn being heard. 
 
 Golah was only armed with a scimitar ; but it was a wea- 
 pon that, in his hands, was sure to fall with deadly effect. 
 It was a weapon of great size and weight, having been made 
 expressly for him.-elf; and with this upraised, he silently 
 but swiftly gUded after the unconscious Arab. 
 
 Adding the whole strength of liis powerful arm to the 
 weight of the weapon, the black sheik brought its sharp 
 
GOLAn CALLS AGAIN. 227 
 
 edga slantingly down upon the neck of the unsnr^pecuug 
 sentinel. 
 
 With a low moan, that iounded in jerfect harmony with 
 the sighing of the waves, \.he Arab fell to the earth, leaving 
 hia musket in the huge liand his assassin had stretched forth 
 to grasp it. Pnttmg the gun to full cock, Golah walked on 
 in the direction in which the sentry had been going. Ha 
 intended next to encounter tlie man who was guarding the 
 eastern side of the doiiar. Walking boldy on, he took no 
 trouble to avoid the sound of his footsteps being lieard, be- 
 lieving that he would be taken for the sentry he had just 
 slain. After going about a hundred paces wthout seeing 
 any one, he paused, and with his large fiercely gleaming 
 eyes strove to penetrate the surrounding gloom. Still no 
 one was to be seen, and he laid him.-elf along the earth to 
 listen for footfalls. 
 
 Nothing could be lieard ; but after glancing for some mo 
 ments along the ground, he saw a dark object outlined above 
 the surfoce. Unable, from the distance, to form a correct 
 idea of what it was, he cautiously advanced towards it, keep- 
 ing on all fours, till he could see that the object was a hu- 
 man being, prostrate on the ground, and apparently listening, 
 Uke liimself. Why should the man be listening ? Not to 
 note the approach of his companion, for that sliould be ex- 
 pected without suspicion, as his attitude would indicate. He 
 might be asleep, reasoned Golah. If so, Fortune seemed to 
 favor him, and with this rellection he steadily moved on t - 
 wards the prostrate form. 
 
 Though the latter moved not, still Golah was not quite 
 sure that the sentry was asleep. Again he paused, and for 
 a moment fixed his eyes on the body with a piercing gaze. 
 If the man was not sleepuig, why should he allow an enemy 
 to approach so near ? Why lie so quietly, without showing 
 any sign or giving an alarm ? If Golah could despatch thia 
 sentinel as he had done the other, withrut making any noise, 
 
228 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 he would, along with his two relatives (who were waiting 
 the resuL of his adventure), afterwards steal into the douar, 
 and all he had lost might be again recovered. 
 
 The chiinee was worth the risk, fo thought Golah, and 
 silently moved on. 
 
 As he drew nearer, he saw that the man was lying on his 
 side, with his face turned towards him, and partly concealed 
 by one arm. 
 
 The black sheik could see no gun m his hands, and con- 
 sequently there would be but little danger in an encounter 
 with him, if such should chance to arise. 
 
 Golah grasped the heavy scimitar in his right hand, evi- 
 dently intending to despatch his victim as he had done the 
 other, with a single blow. 
 
 The head could be severed from the body at one stroke, 
 and no akrm would be given to the slumbering camp. 
 
 The heavy blade of shining steel was raised aloft ; and 
 the giipe of the powerful hand clutching its hilt became 
 more firm and determined. 
 
 Sailor Bill ! has your promise to keep a sharp lookout 
 been broken so soon ? 
 
 Beware! Golah is near with strength in his arm, and 
 murder in his mind! 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 SAILOR BILL STANDENG SENTRl. 
 
 AFTER two hours had been passed in moving slowly 
 to and fro, hearing the word "■Mka" and seeing noth- 
 iug but gray sand. Sailor Bill began to feel weaiy, and no\^ 
 regretted that the old sheik had honored him with his couli 
 dence. 
 
SAILOR BILL STANDING SENTRY. 229 
 
 For /.he first hour of his watch he had kept a good look- 
 out to the eastward, and had given the whole of his attention 
 to his sentinel's duty. 
 
 Gradually his intense alertness forsook him, and he began 
 to think of the past and future. 
 
 Themes connected with these subjects seldom troubled 
 Bill, — his thoughts generally dwelling upon the present; 
 but, in the darkne-s and solitude in which he was now placed, 
 there was but little of the present to arrest his attention. 
 For the want of something else to amuse his mind, it was 
 turned to the small cannon he was carrying ^ his hand. 
 
 " This 'ere thing," thought he, " aint o' much use as a pis- 
 tol, though it might be used as a war-club at close quarters. 
 I hope I shan't 'ave to fire it hoff. The barrel is thin, and 
 the bullet hinside it must be a'most as large as an 'en's heg. 
 It ud be like enough to bust. Preaps 't aint loaded, and may 
 'ave been given to me for amusement. I may as well make 
 sure about that." 
 
 After groping about for some time, the sailor succeeded 
 in finding a small piece of stick, with which he measured the 
 length of the barrel on the outside ; then, by inserting the 
 Btick into the muzzle, he found that the depth of the barrel 
 was not quite equal to its length. 
 
 There must be something inside therefore, but he was pos- 
 itive there was no ball. He next examined the pan, and 
 found the priming all right. 
 
 " I see 'ow 'tis," muttered he, "the old sheik only wants 
 me to make a row with it, in case I sees anything as is sus- 
 picious. He was afeard to put a ball in it lest I should be 
 killin' one of themselves. That 's his confidence. He on'y 
 wants me to bark without being able to bite. But this don't 
 euit me at all, at all. Faix, I '11 find a bit of a stone an(? 
 ram it into the barrel." 
 
 Saying this he groped about the ground in search of a 
 pebble of the proper size ; but for some time could find non6 
 
230 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 to bis liking. He could lay his hand on nothing but the 
 finest sand. 
 
 While engaged in this search he fancied he heard some 
 one approaching from the side opposite to that in which he 
 was expecting to hear the word " AhJca." 
 
 He looked in that direction, but could see nothing save 
 the gray surface of the sea-beach. 
 
 Since being on the desert Bill had several times observed 
 the Arabs lay themselves along the earth to listen for the 
 sound of footsteps. This plan he now tried himself. 
 
 With his eyes close to the ground, the old sailor fancied 
 he was able to see to a greater distance than when standing 
 upright. There seemed to be more light on the surface of 
 the earth than at four or five feet above it ; and objects in 
 the distance were placed more directly between his eyes and 
 the horizon. 
 
 While thus lying extended along the sand, he heard foot- 
 steps approaching from the shore ; but, believing they were 
 those of the sentinel, he paid no attention to them. He only 
 listened for a repetition of those sounds he fancied to have 
 come from the opposite direction. 
 
 But nothing was now heard to the eastward; and he 
 came to the conclusion that he had been deceived by an ex- 
 cited fancy. 
 
 Of one thing, however, he soon became certain. It was, 
 that the footsteps which he supposed to be those of the Arab 
 who kept, what Bill called, the " larboard watch," were 
 drawing nearer than usual, and that the word '■'■Ahka " was 
 not pronounced as before. 
 
 The old sailor sle\\ed himself around, and directed hia 
 gaze towards the shore. 
 
 The sound of footsteps was no longer heard, but the figure 
 of a man was perceived at no great distance from the spot. 
 
 Ho was not advancing nearer, but standing erect, and ap- 
 parently gizing ftharply about him. 
 
SAILOR DILL STANDING SENTRY. 231 
 
 Could this man be the Arab sentinel ? 
 
 The latter was known to be short and of slight frame, 
 rhile ti.a man now seen appeared tall and of stout build. 
 Instead of remaining in his upright attitude, and uttering, as 
 the sentry sLould have done, the word '" Akka" the stranger 
 was seen to stoop down, and place his ear close to the earth 
 .Ks if to listen. 
 
 During a moment or two while the man's eyes appeared 
 to be turned away from him, the sailor took the precaution 
 to till the barrel of his pistol with sand. 
 
 Should he give the alarm by firing off the pistol, and then 
 run towards the camp ? 
 
 No ! he might have been deceived by an excited imagina- 
 tion. The individual before him might possibly be the 
 Arab guard trying to discover his presence belbre giving 
 the sign. 
 
 While the sailor was thus undecided, the huge form drew 
 ■nearer, approaching on all fours. It came within eight or 
 ten paces of the spot, and then slowly assumed an upright 
 position. Bill now saw it was not the sentinel but the black 
 sheik ! 
 
 The old man-o'-war's-man was never more frightened in 
 his life. He thought of discharging the pi.-tol, and running 
 back to the douar ; but then came the thought that he would 
 certainly be shot down the instant he should rise to his feet ; 
 and fear held him motionless. 
 
 Golah drew nearer and nearer, and the sailor seeing 
 ,he scimitar uplifted suddenly formed the resolution to 
 jict. 
 
 Prjjecting the muzzle of his huge pistol towards the 
 black, he pulled the trigger, and at the same instant sprang 
 to his feet. 
 
 There was a loud deafening report, followed by a veil of 
 j«rild agony. 
 
 Bill stayed not to note the effect of his fire : but ran as 
 
232 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 fast as his legs would cany liim towards the camp, — abreadj 
 alarmed by the report of the pistol. 
 
 The Arabs were running to and fro in terrible fear anj 
 confusion, shouting as they ran. 
 
 Amidst these shouts was heai-d, — in the direction from 
 which the sailor liad fled, — a loud voice frantically calling, 
 "Muley! Muley ! " 
 
 " 'T is the voice of Golah ! " exclaimed the Krooman in 
 Arabic. " He is calling for his son, — Muley is his son's 
 name ! " 
 
 " They are going to attack the douar," shouted tlie Arab 
 sheik, and his words were followed by a scene of the wildest 
 terror. 
 
 The Arabs rushed here and there, mingling their cries 
 with those of the slaves ; while women shrieked, cliildren 
 screamed, dogs barked, horses neighed, and even the quiet 
 camels gave voice to their alarm. 
 
 In the confusion the two wives of Golah, taking their chil- 
 dren along with them, hurried away from the camp, and 
 escaped undiscovered in the darkness. 
 
 They had heard the voice of the father of their children, 
 and understood that accent of anguish in which he had called 
 out the name of his son. 
 
 They were women, — women who, although dreading 
 their tjrant husband in his day of power, now pitied him in 
 his hour of misfortune. 
 
 The Arabs, anxiously expecting the appearance of their 
 enemy, in great haste made ready to meet him ; but they 
 were left unmolested. 
 
 In a few minutes all was quiet : not a sound was heard 
 in the vicinity of the douar ; and the late alarm might have 
 appeared only a panic of groundless fear. 
 
 The light of day was gradually gathering in the east when 
 the Arab sheik, recovering from liis excitement, ventured U 
 make an examination of the douar and its denizens. 
 
GOLAH FULFILS HIS DESTINY. 233 
 
 Two important facts presented themselves as evidence, 
 that the fright they had experienced was not without a 
 cause. The sentry who had been stationed to guard AiQ 
 camp on its southern side was not present, and Golah's (wo 
 wives and their chiklren were also absent ! 
 
 There could be no mystery about the disappearance of 
 the women. They had gone to rejoin the man whose \oice 
 had been heard calling "Muley." 
 
 But where was the Arab sentry? Had another of the 
 party fallen a victim to the vengeance of Golah? 
 
 CHAPTER LXII. 
 
 GOLAII FULFILS HIS DESTINY. 
 
 ry^AKING the Krooman by one arm, the Arab sheik led 
 a him up to the old man-o'-war's-man, who, sailor-like 
 having finished his watch, had gone to sleep. 
 
 After being awakened by the sheik, the Krooman was told 
 to ask the white man why he fired his pistol. 
 
 " Why, to kill Golah, — the big nager ! " answered Bill ; 
 ■* an' I 'm mighty desaved if I 'ave not done it." 
 
 This answer was communicated to the sheik, who had the 
 art of expressing unbelief with a peculiar smile, which he 
 now practised. 
 
 Bill was asked if he had seen the black sheik. 
 
 " Seen him ! sartinly I did," answered the sailor. " He 
 was not more nor four paces from me at the time I pc[)per€d 
 'im. I tell you he is gone and done for." 
 
 The sleik shook his head, and again smiled incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 Further inquiries were interrupted by the discovery of 
 
234 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 the body of the Arab sentinel whom Golah had killed, aiid 
 all clustei-ed around it. 
 
 The man's head was nearly severed from his body ; and 
 the blow — which must have caused instant death — had 
 evidently *^een given by the black sheik. Near the coq)se, 
 tracks were observed in the sand such as no other human 
 being but Golah could have made. 
 
 It was now broad daylight ; and the Arabs, glancing along 
 the shore to southward, made another discovery. 
 
 Two camels with a hor.~e were seen upon the beach about 
 half a mile off; and, leaving one of their number to guard 
 the douar, the old sheik with his followers staited off in 
 the hoi3e of recovering some of the property they had 
 lost. 
 
 They were followed by most of the slaves ; who, by the 
 misfortunes of their master, were under less restraint. 
 
 On arriving near the place where the camels were, the 
 young man we have described as Golah's brother-in-law, 
 was found to be in charge of them. He was lying on the 
 ground ; but on the approach of the Arabs, he sprang to hij 
 feet, at the same time holding up botli his hands. 
 
 He carried no weapon; and the gesture signified, "It is 
 peace." 
 
 The two women, surrounded by their children, were near 
 by, sitting silent and sorrowfid on the sea-beach. They 
 took Ao heed of the approach of the Arabs ; and did not 
 even look up as the latter drew near. 
 
 The muskets and other weapons were lying about. One 
 of Uie camels was down upon the sand. It was dead ; and 
 the young negro was in the act of eating a large piece of 
 raw flesh he had severed from its hump. 
 
 The Arab sheik inquired after Golah. He to whom the 
 inquiry was directed pointed to the sea, where two dark 
 bodies were seen tumbling al)out in the surf as it brokl 
 against the shuigle of the beach. 
 
GOLAH FULFILS HIS DESTINY. 235 
 
 The tlu-ee nidshipraen, at the command of the ;heik, 
 waded iu, and dragged the bodies out of the \\ater. 
 
 Thf;y were recognized as those of Golah and hia son, 
 Muley. 
 
 Golah's face api)eared to have been frightfully lacerated ; 
 and his once large tierce eyes were altogether gone. 
 
 Tiie brother-in-law was called on to explain the myste- 
 rious death of the black sheik and his son. 
 
 His explanation was as follows: — 
 
 " I heard Golah calling for Muley after hearing the report 
 of a gun. From that I knew that he was wounded. IMuley 
 ran to assist him, while I stayed behind with the horse and 
 camels. I am starving ! Very soon IMuley came running 
 back, followed by his father, who seemed possessed of an 
 evil spirit. He ran this way and that way, swinging his 
 scimitar about, and trying to kill us both as well as the 
 camels. He could not see, and we managed to keep out of 
 his way. I am starving ! " 
 
 The young negro here paused, and, once more picking up 
 the piece of camel's flesh, proceeded to devour it with an 
 alacrity that proved the truth of his assertion. 
 
 " Pig ! " exclaimed the sheik, " tell your story first, and 
 eat afterwards." 
 
 " Praise be to Allah ! " said the youth, as he resumed his 
 narrative, " Golah ran against one of the camels and killed 
 it." 
 
 His listeners looked towards the dead camel. They saw 
 that the body bore the marks of Golah's great scimitar. 
 
 "After killing the camel," continued the young man, '- (ho 
 sheik became quiet. The evil spirit had passed out of him; 
 and he sat down upon the sand. Tlicn his wives came up 
 to him ; and he talked to them kindly, and put his luinda 
 on each of tlie children, and called them by name. They 
 Bcreamed when they looked at him, and Golah told them 
 not to be f:-ightened; that he would wash his fac« and 
 
Y3b THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 frighten thera no more. The little boy led him to the water 
 and he rushed into the sea as far as be could wade. Ha 
 went there to die. Mulej ran after to bring him out, and 
 they were both drowned. I could not help them, for I waa 
 starving!" 
 
 The emaciated appearance of the narrator gave stroug 
 evidence of the truth of the concluding words of his story. 
 For nearly a week he had been travelling night and day, 
 and the want of sleep and food could not have been much 
 longer endured. 
 
 At the command of the Arab chief, the slaves now buried 
 the bodies of Golah and his son. 
 
 Gratified at his good fortune, in being relieved from all 
 fiirther trouble with his iraplacalile foeman, the sheik deter- 
 mined to have a day of rest, which to liis slaves was very 
 welcome, as was also the flesh of the dead camel, now gives 
 them to eat. 
 
 About the death of Golah there was still a mystery the 
 Arabs could not comprehend ; and the services of the Kroo- 
 man as interpreter were again called into requisition. 
 
 When tlie sheik learnt what the sailor had done, — how 
 the pistol had been made an effective weapon by filling the 
 barrel with sand, — he expressed much satisfaction at the 
 manner in which the old man-o'-war's-man had performed 
 his duty. 
 
 Full of gratitude for the service thus rendered him, he 
 promised that not only the sailor himself, but the boy slaves, 
 his companions, should be taken to JNIogador, ar .d restored to 
 their friends. 
 
ON -THE EDGE OF THE SAARA. 237 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 ON THE EDGE OF THE SAARA. 
 
 AFTER a journey of two long dreary days — days tha 
 were to the boy slaves pei-iods of agonizing torture, 
 from fatigue, hunger, thirst, and exposure to a burning sun 
 — the kafila arrived at another watering-place. 
 
 As they drew near the place, our adventui*ers perceived 
 that it was the same where they had first fallen into the 
 hands of Golah. 
 
 " May God help us ! " exclaimed Harry Blount, as they 
 approached the place. " We have been here before. We 
 shall find no water, I fear. We did not leave more than 
 two bucketfuls in the hole ; and as there has been no rain 
 since, that must be dried up, long ago. 
 
 An expression of hopeless despair came over the coun- 
 tenances of his companions. They had seen, but a few days 
 before, nearly all the water drawn out of the pool, and given 
 to the camels. 
 
 Their fears were soon removed, and followed by the real 
 gratification of a desire they had long been indulging — the 
 desire to quench their thirst. There was plenty of water in 
 the pool — a heavy deluge of rain having fallen over the 
 little valley since they had left it. 
 
 The small supply of food possessed by the tiavellers 
 would not admit of their making any delay at this watering- 
 place ; and the next morning the journey was resum-id. 
 
 The Arabs appeared to bear no animosity towards the 
 young man who had assisted Golah in killing their compan- 
 ions ; and now that the black sheik was dead, they had no 
 fear that the former wouM try to escape. The negro waa 
 one of those human beings who cannot own themselves, and 
 who never feel at home unless vith some one to control 
 
238 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 them. He quietly took his place along with the otbeJ 
 slaves, — apparently resi,2:ned to liis fate, — a fate that 
 doomed him to perpetual slavery, though a condition but li<^- 
 tle lowei- than that he had occupied with his brother-in-law. 
 
 Eight days were now passed in journeying in a direction 
 that led a little to the east of north. 
 
 To the white slaves they wei-e days of indescribable ago- 
 ny, from those two terrible evils that assail all travellers 
 through the Saiiia, — hunger and thirst. Within the dis- 
 tance passed during these eight days they found but one 
 watering-place, where the supply was not only small in 
 quantity but bad in quality. 
 
 It was a well, nearly dried up, containing a little water, 
 offensive to sight and smell, and only rendered endurable to 
 taste by the irresistible power of thirst. 
 
 The surface of the pool was covered nearly an incli thick 
 with dead insects, which had to be removed to reach the 
 discolored element beneath. They were not only compelled 
 to use, but were even thankful to obtain, this impure bev- 
 erage. 
 
 The route followed during these eight days was not along 
 the seashore ; and they were therefore deprived of the 
 opportunity of satisfying their hunger with shell-fish. Tiie 
 Arabs were in haste to reach some place where they could 
 procure food for their animals, and at the pace at which 
 tliey rode f(>rward, it required tlie utmost exertion on the 
 part of their slaves to keep up with them. 
 
 The old man-o'-war's-man, unused to land travelling, could 
 never have held out, had not t'/e Arabs allowed him, part of 
 the time, to I'ide on a camel. The feat he had performed, in 
 ridding them of that enemy who had troubled them so much 
 — and who, had he not been thwarted in his attack upon the 
 camp, would probably have killed them all — had inspired 
 bis masters with some slight gratitude. The sailor, there- 
 fore, \>as permitted to ride, when they saw that other wist 
 
OjS the edge of the SAARA. 239 
 
 Ihey would have to leave him hehind to die upon the des- 
 ert. 
 
 During the last two days of the eight, our adventurers 
 noticed something in the appearance of the country, over 
 which t)iey were moving, that inspired them with hope. The 
 face of the landsca])e became more uneven ; while here and 
 tLere stunted bushes and weeds were seen, as if struggling 
 between life and death. 
 
 The kafila had arrived on the northern border of the 
 great Saiira; and a few days more would bring them to 
 green fields, shady groves, and streams of sparkling water. 
 
 Something resemlding the latter was soon after discovered. 
 At the close of the eightli day tliey reached the bed of what 
 appeared to be a river recently dried up. Although there 
 was no current they found some pools of stagnant water: 
 and beside one of these the douar was establi-hed. 
 
 On a hill to the north were growing some green shrubs 
 to which the camels were driven ; and upon these ihey im- 
 mediately commenced browsing. Not only the leaves, but 
 the twigs and branches were rapidl}' twisted off by the long 
 prehensile lips of the animals, and as greedily devoured. 
 
 It was twilight as the camp had been fairly pitched ; and 
 just then two men were seen coming touards them leading 
 a camel. They were making for the pools of water, for 
 the purpose of filling some goat skins which were carried 
 on their camel. Tliey appeared both surprised and annoyed 
 to find the pools in possession of strangers. 
 
 Seeing they could not escape observation, the men cania 
 boldly forward, and commenced filling their goat-skins. 
 While thus engaged they told the Arab sheik that they be- 
 longed to a caravan near at hand that was journeying south- 
 ward; and that they should continue their journey earlj 
 the next morning. 
 
 After the dej)arture of the two men the Arabs he'd « 
 conwjltation. 
 
240 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 " They hnve told us a lie," remarked the old sheik, " thej 
 are not on a journey, or they would have halted here by 
 the water. By the beard of our Prophet they have spoken 
 falsely ! " 
 
 With this opinion his followers agreed ; and it was sug- 
 gested that the two men they had seen were of some party 
 encamped by the seashore, and undoubtedly amusing thera- 
 Belves with a wreck, or gathering wealth in some other un- 
 usual way. 
 
 Here was an opportunity not to be lost ; and the Arabs 
 determined to have a share in whatever good fortune Provi- 
 dence might have thrown in the way of those already upon 
 the ground. If it should prove to be a wreck there might 
 be serious difficulty with those already in possession ; it was 
 resolved, therefore, to wait for the morning, when they could 
 form a better opinion of their chances of success, should a 
 t»nflict be necessary to secure it. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 THE RIVAL WRECKERS. 
 
 EARLY next morning the kafila was en route for the 
 seashore, which was discovered not far distant. On 
 coming near a douar of seven tents was seen sxudrng 
 upon the beach : and several men stepped forwai'd to re- 
 ceive them. 
 
 The usual salutations were exchanged, and the new com- 
 ers began to look about them. Several pieces of timber 
 lying along t!ie shore gave evidence that their conjecture, 
 as to a wreck having taken place, had been a correct one. 
 
 " There is but one God, and He is kind to is all," sai<i 
 
THE RIVAL WRECKERS. 241 
 
 the old sheik; "He casts the ships of unbelievers on cui 
 shores, and we have come to claim a share of Ilis favors." 
 
 " You are welcome to all you can justly claim," answered 
 a tall man, who appeared to be the leader of the party of 
 wreckers. " Mahomet is :he prophet of Him who sends 
 t'lvors to all, both good and bad. If he has sent anything 
 for you, look along the sea-beach and find it." 
 
 On this invitation the camels of the kafila were unloaded, 
 and the tents pitched. The new-comers then set about 
 searching for the debris of the wrecked vessel. 
 
 They discovered only some spars, and other pieces of 
 Bhip-ti'ubers, which were of no value to either party. 
 
 A consultation now took place between the old sheik and 
 his followers. They were unanimous in the belief that a 
 sunken ship was near them, and that they had only to watch 
 the rival wreckers, and learn where she was submerged. 
 
 Desisting from their search, they resolved to keep a look- 
 out. 
 
 When this determination became known to the other 
 party, its chief, after conferring with his companions, came 
 forward, and, announcing himself as the representative of 
 his people, proposed a conference. 
 
 "I am Sidi Hamet," said he, "and the others you see 
 here are my friends and relatives. We are all members of 
 the Fame family, and faithful followers of the Prophet. God 
 is great, and has been kind to us. He has sent us a prize. 
 We are about to gather the gifts of His mercy. Go your 
 way, and leave us in peace." 
 
 " I am Rias Abdallah Yezzed," answered the old sheik, 
 " and neither my companions nor myself are so bad but 
 that we, too, may be numbered among those who are entitled 
 to God's favor, when it pleases Him to cast on our shores 
 the ships of the infidel." 
 
 In rejoinder Sidi Hamet entered upon a long harangue ; in 
 which he informed the old sheik tha* in the event of a ves« 
 11 
 
242 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 sel having gone to pieces, and tlie coast having been strowa 
 with merchaudise, each party would have been entitled to 
 all it could gather ; but unfortunately for both, those pleas- 
 ant circumstances did not now exist ; although it was true, 
 that the hulk of a vessel, containing a cargo that could not 
 wash ashore was lying under water near by. They had dia* 
 covered it, and tlierefore laid claim to all that it contained. 
 
 Sidi Haraet's part}' was a strong one, consisting of seven- 
 teen men ; and therefore could afford to be communicative 
 without the least danger of being disturbed in their plans 
 and prospects. 
 
 They acknowledged that they had been working ten days 
 in clearing the cargo out of the sunken vessel, and that their 
 work was not yet half done — the goods being very difficult 
 to get at. 
 
 The old sheik inquired of what the cargo consisted : but 
 could obtain no satisfactory answer. 
 
 Here was a mystery. Seventeen men had been fourteen 
 days unloading the hulk of a wrecked ship, and yet no arti- 
 cles of merchandise were to be seen near the spot ! 
 
 A few casks, some pieces of old sail, with a number ot 
 cooking utensils that had belonged to a ship's galley, lay 
 upon the beach; but these could not be regarded as forming 
 any portion of the cargo of a ship. 
 
 The old sheik and his followers were in a quandary. 
 
 They had often heard of boxes full of money having been 
 obtained from wrecked ships. 
 
 Sailors cast away upon their coast had been known to 
 bury such commodities, and afterwards under torture to re- 
 Teal the spot where the interment had be^in made. 
 
 Had this vessel, on which the wreckers were engaged, 
 been freighted with money, and had the boxes been buried 
 as soon as brought ashore ? 
 
 It was possible, thought the new comers. They must 
 wait and learn ; and if there was any means by which they 
 
THE RIVAL WBEOKERS. 24S 
 
 fonld claim a share in the good fortune (;f those who had 
 first discovered the wreck, those means must be adc-pted. 
 
 The original discoverers were too impatient to stay pvo 
 ccedings till their departure ; and feeling secure in the supe- 
 riority ol numbers, they recommenced their task of dis- 
 tjharging tlie submerged hulk. 
 
 They advanced to the water's edge, taking along wiin 
 them a long rope that had been found attached to the spars. 
 At one end of this rope tliey had made a running noose, 
 which was made fast to a man, who swam out wnth it to ine 
 distance of about a hundred yards. 
 
 The swimmer then dived out of sight. He had gone be- 
 low to visit the wreck, and attach the rope to a portion oi 
 the cargo. 
 
 A minute after his head was seen above the surface, and 
 a shout was sent forth. Some of his companions on ttie 
 beach now commenced hauling in the rope, the other end 
 of which had been left in their hands. 
 
 When the noose was pulled ashore, it was found to em- 
 brace a large block of sandstone, weighing about, twenty-tive 
 or thirty pounds ! 
 
 The Krooman had already informed Harry Blount and 
 his companions of something he had learnt from the conver- 
 sation of the wreckers ; and the three mids had been watcb- 
 ing with considerable interest the movements of the diver 
 and his assistants. 
 
 When the block of sandstone was dragged up on the 
 beach, they stared at each other with expressions of pro- 
 found astonishment. 
 
 No wonder : the wreckers were employed in clearing the 
 ballast ou: Df a sunken ship ! 
 
 AVhat could be their object ? Our adventurers could not 
 guess. Nor, indeed, could the wreckers themselves have 
 given a good reason for undgergoing such an amount oi 'u* 
 diorous labor 
 
S44 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Wliy they had not told the old sheik what sort of cargo 
 they were saving from the wreck, was because they had no 
 certain knowledge of its value, or what in reality it was 
 they were taking so much time and trouble to get safely 
 ashore. 
 
 As they believed that the white slaves must have a per- 
 fect knowledge of the subject upon which they were them- 
 selves so ignorant, they closely scanned the countenances 
 of the latter as the block of ballast was drawn out upon the 
 dry sand. 
 
 They were rewarded for their scrutiny. 
 
 The surprise exhibited by Sailor Bill and the three mids 
 confirmed the wreckers in their belief that they Avere saving 
 something of grand value ; for, in fact, had the block of 
 sandstone been a monstrous nugget of gold, the boy slaves 
 could not have been more astonished at beholding it. 
 
 Their behavior increased the ardor of the salvors in the 
 pursuit in which they were engaged, along with the envy of 
 the rival party, who, by the laws of the Saaran coast, were 
 not allowed to participate in their toil. 
 
 The Krooman now endeavored to undeceive his master as 
 to the value of the " salvage," — telling hira that what their 
 rivals were taking out of the sunken ship was uothiug but 
 worthless stone. 
 
 But his statement was met with a smile of incredulity. 
 Tiiose engaged in getting the ballast ashore regarded the 
 Ki-ooman's statements with equal contempt. He was either 
 a liar or a fool, and therefore unworthy of the least atten- 
 tion. "With this reflection they went on with their work. 
 
 After some time spent in reconsidering the subject, the 
 old sheik called the Krooman aside ; and when out of hear- 
 ii:g of the wreckers, asked him to give an explanation of 
 the real nature of what he himself pers:6ted in cidling the 
 "cargo" of the wreck, — as well as a true ttatement of 
 Its value. 
 
ANOTHER WHITE SLAVE. 24ft 
 
 The slave did as he was desired ; but the ohl sheik only 
 Bhook his head, once more declaring his incredulity. 
 
 He had never heard of a ship that did not carry a cargo 
 of something valuable. He thought that no men would be 
 so stupid and fooli.>h as to go from one country to another 
 in ships loaded only with worthless stones. 
 
 Aa nothing else in the shape of cargo was found aboard 
 the wreck, the stones must be of some value. So argued 
 the Arab. 
 
 While the Krooman was trying to explain the real pur- 
 pose for which the stones had been placed in the hold of the 
 vessel, one of the wreckers came up and informed him that 
 a white man was in one of their tents, that he was ill, and 
 wished to see and converse with the infidel slaves, of whose 
 arrival he had just heard. 
 
 The Krooman communicated this piece of intelligence to 
 our adventurers ; and the tent that contained the sick white 
 man having been pointed out to them, they at once stalled 
 towards it, expecting to see some unfortunate countryman, 
 who, like themselves, had been cast away on the inhospita- 
 ble shores of the Saiii'a. 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 ANOTHER "WHITE SLAVE. 
 
 ON entering within the tent to which they had beeu 
 directed, they found, lying upon the ground, a man 
 about forty years of age. Although he appeared a mere 
 skeleton, consisting of little more than skin and bones, he 
 did not present the general aspect of a man sufFeriug from 
 ill health ; nor yet would he have passed for a white mai, 
 anywhere out of Africa. 
 
246 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 "You are the first English people I've seen f\,r ovei 
 thirty years," said he, as they entered the tent : " for I cat 
 tell by your looks that every one of you are English. You 
 are my countrymen. I was Avhite once myself; and you 
 will be as black as I am when you have been sun-scorched 
 here for forty-three years, as I have been." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Terence ; " have you been a slave 
 in the Saiira so long as that ? If so, God help us ! What 
 hope is there of our ever getting free ? " 
 
 The young Irishman spoke in a tone of despair. 
 
 " Very little chance of your ever seeing home again, my 
 lad," answered the invalid ; " but /have a chance now, if you 
 and your comrades don't spoil it. For God's sake don't teU 
 these Arabs that they are the fools they are for making 
 salvage of the ballast. If you do, they '11 be sure to make 
 an end of me. It 's all ray doing. I 've made them believe 
 the stones are valuable, so that they may take them to soma 
 place where I can escape. It is the oidy chance I have had 
 for years, — don't destroy it, as you value the life of a fellow- 
 countryman." 
 
 From further conversation with the man, our adventurers 
 learned that he had been shipwrecked on the coast many 
 years before, and had ever since been trying to get trans- 
 ported to some place where he might be ransomed. He de- 
 clared that he h:ird been backward and forward across the 
 desert forty or fifty times ; and that he had belonged to not 
 less than fifty masters ! 
 
 " I have only been with these fellows a few weeks," said 
 he, " and fortunately when we came this way we were able 
 to tell wliere the sunken thip was by seeing her foremast 
 then sticking out of the water. The vessel was in ballast; 
 and tlio crew probably put out to sea in their boats, without 
 being discovered. It was the first ship my masters liad ever 
 heard of without a cargo ; and they would not believe but 
 what the stoues were such, aud must be worth somethuig— • 
 
ANOTHER WHITE SLAVE. 247 
 
 «jj8o why should they be ciirried about the workl in a ship. 
 I told them it was a kind of stone from which gold Ts^as ob- 
 tained ; but that it must be taken to some pktce where there 
 was plenty of coal or Avood, before the gold could be melted 
 out of it, and then intrusted to white men who understood 
 the art of extracting the precious metal from the rocks. 
 
 " They believe all this ; for they can see shining particles 
 in the sandstone which they think is really gold, or some- 
 thing that can be converted into it. For four days they 
 forced me to toil, at diving and assisting them ; but that 
 did n't suit my purpose ; and I 've at length succeeded in 
 making them believe that I am not able to work any 
 longer." 
 
 " But do you really think," asked Harry Blount, « that 
 they will carry the ballast any distance without learning its 
 real value?" 
 
 " Yes ; I did think that they might take it to Mogador, 
 and that they would let me go along with them." 
 
 " But some one will meet them, and tell them that their 
 lading is worthless ? " suggested Colin. 
 
 " No, I think that fear of losing their valuable freight wi'l 
 keep them from letting any one know what they 've got 
 Tliey are hiding it in the sand now, as fast as they get it 
 ashore, for fear some party stronger than themselves should 
 come along and take it away from them. I intend to tell 
 them after they have started on their journe) , not to let any 
 one see or know what they have, until they are safe within 
 the walls of Mogador, where they will be under the protec- 
 tion of the governor. They have promised to take me along 
 with them, and if I once get within sight of a seaport, not 
 all the Arabs in Africa will hinder me from recovering my 
 liberty." 
 
 While the pretended invalid was talking to them, Sailor 
 
 Bill had been watching him, apparently with eager interest. 
 
 "Beg pai'don for aving a small taste o' differopoe wi'3 
 
248 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 you in the mather ov your age," said the sailor, as soon as 
 the man had ceased speaking ; " but I '11 never belave you 
 've been about 'ere for forty years. It can't be so long aa 
 that." 
 
 The two men, after staring at each other for a moment, 
 uttered the words " Jim ! " " Bill ! " and then, springing for- 
 ward, each grasped the hand of the other. Two brothers 
 had met ! 
 
 The three mids remembered that Bill had told them of a 
 brother, who, when last heard from, was a slave somewhere 
 in the Saiira, and they needed no explanation of the scene 
 now presented to them. 
 
 The two brothers were left alone ; and after the others 
 had gone out of the tent they returned to the Krocman — 
 who had just succeeded in convincing the sheik, that the 
 stones being fished out of the sunken ship were, at that 
 time and pLice, of no value whatever. 
 
 All attempts on the part of the old sheik to convince 
 the wreckers, as he had been convinced himself, pi-oved 
 fruitless. 
 
 The arguments he used to them were repeated to the sail- 
 or. Bill's brother ; and by him were easily upset with a few 
 words. 
 
 " Of course they will try to make you believe the cargo is 
 no good," retorted Jim. " They wish you to leave it, so that 
 they can have it all to themselves. Does not common sense 
 tell you that they are liars ? " 
 
 This was conclusive ; and the wreckers continued their 
 toil, extracting stone after stone out of the hold of the sub- 
 merged ship. 
 
 Sailor Bill, at Lis brother's request, tlien summoned hia 
 companions to the tent. 
 
 " Which of you have been trying to do me an injury ? " 
 incpiired Jim. " I told you not to say that the stones wer« 
 worthless." 
 
ANOTHER WHITE SLAVE. 249 
 
 It was explained to him how the Kroonan had been en- 
 lightening his master. 
 
 " Call the Krooraan," said Jim, " and I '11 enlighten him. 
 If these Arabs find out that they have been deceived, I shall 
 be killed, and your master — the old sheik — will certiiinly 
 lose all his property. Tell him to come here also. I must 
 talk to him. Something must be done immediately, or I 
 shall be killed." 
 
 The Krooman and the old sheik were conducted in- 
 to the tent ; and Jim talked to them in the Arabic lan- 
 guage. 
 
 " Leave my masters alone to their folly," said he to the 
 sheik ; " and they will be so busy that you can depart in 
 peace. If not, and you convince them that they have been 
 deceived, they will rob you of all you have got. You have 
 already said enough to excite their suspicions, and they will 
 in time learn that I have been humbugging them. My life 
 is no longer safe in their company. You buy me, then ; and 
 let us all take our departure immediately." 
 
 " Are the stones in the wreck really worth nothing ? " 
 asked the sheik. 
 
 " No more than the sand on the shore ; and when they 
 find out that such is the case, some one will be robbed. 
 They have come to the sea-coast to seek wealth, and they 
 will have it one way or the other. They are a tribe of bad 
 men. Buy me, and leave them to continue the task they 
 Lave so ignorantly undertaken." 
 
 " You are not well," replied the sheik ; " and if I buy you, 
 you cannot walk." ' 
 
 " Let me ride on a camel until I get out of sight of these 
 toy masters," answered Jim ; " you will then see whether 1 
 can walk or not. They will sell me cheap ; for they think 
 I am done up. But I am not ; I was only weary of diving 
 after worthless stones." 
 
 The old sheik promised to follow Jim's advice ; and or« 
 U* 
 
250 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 dered his companions to prepare immediatelj for the contia 
 nance of their journey. 
 
 Sidi Hamet was called, and asked by Riaa Abdallah if 
 he would sell some of the stones they had saved from th*^ in- 
 fidel ship. 
 
 " Bismillah ! No ! " exclaimed the wrecker. " You say 
 they are of no value, and I do not wish to cheat any true 
 believer of the prophet." 
 
 " Will you give me some of them, then ? " 
 
 " No ! Allah forbid that Sidi Ilamet should ever make a 
 worthless present to a friend ! " 
 
 " I am a merchant," rejoined the old sheik ; " and wish tc 
 do business. Have you any slaves, or other property you 
 can sell me ? " 
 
 " Yes ! You see that Christian dog," replied the wreck- 
 er pointing to Sailor Bill's brother ; " I will sell him." 
 
 " You have promised to take me to Swearah," interrupted 
 Jim. " Do not sell me, raa'^ter ; I think I shall get well 
 some time, and will then work for you as hard as I can." 
 
 Sidi Hamet cast upon his infidel slave a look of contempt 
 at this allusion to his illness ; but Jim's remark, and the 
 s»ogry glance, were both unheeded by the Arab sheik. 
 
 The slave's pretended wishes not to be sold were disre- 
 garded ; and for the consideration of an old shirt and a small 
 camel-hair tent, he became the property of Rias Abdallah 
 Yezzed. 
 
 Tlie old sheik and his followers then betook themselves to 
 their camels ; and the kafila was hurried up the dry bed cf 
 the river, — leaving the wreckers to coatii ue their toilflom* 
 and unpj-ofitabb task. 
 
SAILOR BILL'S BROTHER. 251 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 SAILOR bill's brother. 
 
 AFTER leaving the coast, the travellers kept at a quick 
 pace, and Sailor Bill and his brother had but little op- 
 portunity of holding converse together. When the douar 
 had been pitched for the night, the old salt and the " young 
 gentlemen," his companions, gathered around the man whose 
 experience in the miseries of Saaran slavery so far exceeded 
 their own. 
 
 " Now, Jim," began the old man-o'-war's-man, " you must 
 epin us the yarn of all your cruising since you 've been here. 
 We 've seen somethin' o' the elephant since we 've been cast 
 ashore, and that 's not long. I don't wonder at you sayin' 
 70U 'ave been aboard this craft forty-three years." 
 
 " Yes, that is the correct time according to my reckoning," 
 interrupted Jim ; " but. Bill, you don't look much older than 
 when I saw you last. How long ago was it ? " 
 
 " About eleven years." 
 
 " Eleven years ! I tell you that I 've been here over 
 forty." 
 
 " 'Ow can that be ? " asked Bill. " Daze it, man, you '11 
 not be forty years old till the fourteenth o' the next month. 
 You 'ave lost yer senses, an' in troth, it an't no wonder ! " 
 
 " That is true, for there is nothing in the Saiira to help a 
 man keep his reckoning. There are no seasons ; and every 
 day is as like another as two seconds in the same minute. 
 But surely I must have been here for more than ele\en 
 years." 
 
 *' No," answered Bill, " ye 'ave no been here only a wee 
 bit langer than tin ; but afther all ye must 'ave suffered 
 in that time, it is quare that ye should a know'd me at all, 
 Bt all." 
 
252 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 " I did not know you until you spoke," rejoined Jim 
 " Then I conld u't doubt tliat it was you who stood before 
 me, when I heard our father's broad Scotch, our mother's 
 Irish brogue, and the talk of the cockneys amongst whom 
 your earliest days were passed, all mingled together." 
 
 " You see, Master Colly," said Bill, turning to the young 
 Scotchman. " My brother Jim has had the advantage of 
 being twelve years younger than I ; and when he was old 
 enough to go to school, I was doing something to help 
 kape 'im there, and for all that I believe he is plased to see 
 me." 
 
 " Pleased to see you ! " exclaimed Jim. " Of course I 
 am." 
 
 " I 'm sure av it," said Bill. 
 
 " Well, then, brother, go ahead, an' spin us your yarn." 
 
 " I have no one yarn to spin," replied Jim, " for a narrA- 
 tive of my adventures in the desert would consist of a thou- 
 sand yarns, each giving a description of some severe suffer- 
 ing or disappointment. I can only tell you that it seems to 
 me that I have passed many years in travelling through the 
 sands of the Saiira, years in cultivating barley on its borders, 
 years in digging wells, and years in attending flocks of goats, 
 sheep, and other animals. I have had many masters, — all 
 bad, and some worse, — and I have had many cruel disap- 
 pointments about regaining my liberty. I was once-within 
 a single day's journey of Mogador, and was then sold again 
 and carried back into the very heart of the desert. I have 
 attempted two or three times to escape ; but was recaptured 
 each time, and nearly killed for the unpardonable dishon- 
 esty of trying to rob my master of my own person. I have 
 often been tempted to commit suicide ; but a sort of womanly 
 curiosity and stubbornness has prevented me. I wished to 
 see how long Fortune would persecute me, and I was deter- 
 mined not to thwart her plans by putting myself beyond their 
 reach. I did not liVe to give in, for any one who tries t* 
 
SAILOR BILL'S BROTHER. 253 
 
 escape from trouble by killing himself, shows that he has 
 come off sadly worsted in the war of life." 
 
 "You are quite rij^ht," said Harry Blount; but I hope 
 that your hardest bat/les in that war are now over. Our 
 masters have promised to carry us to some place where we 
 may be ransomed by our countrymen, and you of course will 
 be taken along with us." 
 
 " Do not flatter yourselves with that hope," said Jim. " 1 
 was amused with it for several years. Every master I have 
 had gave me the same promise, and here I am yet. I did 
 think when my late owners were saving the stones from the 
 wreck, that I could get them to enter the walls of some seaport 
 town, and that possibly they might take me along with them. 
 But that hope has proved as delusive as all others I have 
 entertained since shipwrecked on the shore of this accu'sed 
 country. I believe there are a few who are fortunate enough 
 to regain their liberty ; but the majority of sailors cast away 
 on the Saiiran coast never have the good fortune to get 
 away from it. They die under the hardships and ill-treat- 
 ment to which they are exposed upon the desert — without 
 leaving a trace of their existence any more than the dogs or 
 camels belonging to their common masters. 
 
 " You have asked me to give an account of my life since 1 
 have been shipwrecked. I cannot do that ; but I shall give 
 you an easy rule by which you may know all about it. We 
 will suppose you have all been three months in the Saara, 
 and Bill here says that I have been here ten years ; there- 
 fore I have experienced about forty times as long a period of 
 slavery as one of yourselves. Now, multiply the sum total 
 of your sufferings by forty, and you will have some idea of 
 what I have undergone. 
 
 '* You have probably witnessed some scenes of heartless 
 cruelty — scenes that shocked and wounded the most sensi- 
 tive feelings of your nature. I have witnessed forty timeJ 
 as many. While suffering the agonies of thirst and hunger, 
 
254 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 you may have prayed for death as a relief to youi anguish. 
 Where such have been your circumstances once, they have 
 been mine for forty times, 
 
 ^' You may have had some bright hopes of escaping, and 
 once more revisiting your native hmd ; and then have expe- 
 rienced the bitterness of disappointment. In this way I 
 have suffered forty times as much as any one of you." 
 
 Sailor Bill and the young gentlemen, — who had been for 
 several days under tlie pheasant hallucination that they were 
 on the high road to freedom, — were again awakened to a 
 true sense of their situation by the words of a man far more 
 experienced than they in the deceitful ways of the desert. 
 
 Before separating for the night, the three raids learnt from 
 Bill and his brother that the latter had been first officer of 
 the ship that had brought him to the coast. They could 
 perceive by his conversation that he was an intelligent man, 
 — one whose natural abilities and artificial acquirementa 
 were far superior to those of their shipmate, — the old man- 
 of-war's-man. 
 
 " If such an accomplished individual," reasoned they, " has 
 been for ten years a slave in the Saara, umvble to escape or 
 reach any place where his liberty might be restored, wha*. 
 hope is there for us ? " 
 
 CHAPTER LXVII. 
 
 LIVING STREAM. 
 
 EVERY hour of the journey presented some addirional 
 evidence that the kafila was leaving the great desert 
 behind, and di-awing near a land that might be considered 
 fertile. 
 
A LIVING STREAM. 255 
 
 On the d/iy after parting from the wreckers a walled town 
 was reached, and near it, on the sides of some of the liillf, 
 were seen growing a few patches of barley. 
 
 At this place the caravan rested for the remainder of the 
 day. The camels and horses were furnished with a good 
 Bupply of food, and water drawn from deejj wells. It was 
 the best our adventurers had drunk since being cast away on 
 the African coast. 
 
 Next morning the journey was continued. 
 
 After they had been on the road about two hours, the old 
 sheik and a companion, riding in advance of the othere, 
 stopped before what seemed, in the distance, a broad stream 
 of water. 
 
 All hastened forward, and the Boy Slaves beheld a sight 
 that filled them with much surprise and considerable alarm. 
 It was a stream, — a stream of living creatures moving over 
 the plain. 
 
 It was a migration of insects, — the famed locusts of 
 Africa. 
 
 They were young ones, — not yet able to fly ; and for 
 Bome reason, unknown perhaps even to themselves, they 
 were taking this grand journey. 
 
 Their march seemed conducted in regular order, and un- 
 der strict discipline. 
 
 They formed a living moving belt of considerable breadth, 
 the sides of which appeared as straight as any hne mathe 
 jnatical science could have drawn. 
 
 Not one could be seen straggling from the main body, 
 wliich was moving along a track too narrow for their num- 
 bers, — scarce half of them having room on the sand, while 
 Ihe other half were crawling along on the backs of their 
 eonipagnons du voyage. 
 
 Even the Arabs appeared interested in this African my»- 
 iery, and paused for a few minutes to watch the progress 
 of the glittering stream presented by these singular insect* 
 
256 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 The old shf'ik dismounted from his camel ; an I with his 
 gcimitar broke the straight line formed by the border of the 
 moving mass — sweeping them off to one side. 
 
 The space was instantly filled up again by those advancing 
 from behind, and tlie straight edge restored, the insects 
 crawling onward without the slightest deviation. 
 
 The sight was not new to Sailor Bill's brother. He in- 
 formed his companions that should a fire be kindled on their 
 line of march, the insects, instead of attempting to pass 
 around it, would move right into its midst until it should be- 
 come extinguished with their dead bodies. 
 
 After amusing himself for a few moments in observing 
 these insects, the sheik mounted his camel, and, followed by 
 the kafila, commenced moving through the living stream. 
 
 A hoof could not be put down without crushing a score 
 of the creatures ; but immediately on the hoof being lifted, 
 the space was filled with as many as had been destroyed ! 
 
 Some of the slaves, with their naked feet, did not like 
 wading through this living crawling stream. It was neces- 
 sary to use force to compel them to pass over it. 
 
 After looking right and left, and seeing no end to the 
 colunm of insects, our adventurers made a rush, and ran 
 clear across it. 
 
 At every step their feet fell with a crunching sound, and 
 were raissd again, streaming with the blood of the mangled 
 locusts. 
 
 The belt of the migratory insects was about sixty yards 
 in breadth ; yet, short as was the distance, the Boy Slaves 
 declared that it was more disagreeable to pass over than any 
 ten miles of the desert they had previously traversed. 
 
 One of the blacks, determined to make the crossing as 
 brief as possible, started in a rapid run. When about half 
 way through, his foot slipped, and he fell full length amidst 
 liie crowd of creep(n'S. 
 
 Before he could regain his feet, hundreds of the disgust 
 
A LIVING STREAM. 257 
 
 uig iuoccts had mounted upon him, clinging to his clothes, 
 and almost smothering him by their numbers. 
 
 Overcome by disgust, horror, and fear, he was unable to 
 rise ; and two of his black companions were ordered to drag 
 him out of the disagreeable company into which he had 
 stumbled. 
 
 After being rescued and delivered from the clutch of the 
 locusts, it was many minutes before he recovered his com- 
 posure of mind, along with sufficient nerve to resume his 
 joumey. 
 
 Sailor Bill had not made the crossing along with the 
 others ; and for some time resisted all the attempts of the 
 Ai-abs to force him over the insect stream. 
 
 Two of them at length laid hold of him ; and, after drag- 
 ging him some paces into the crawling crowd, left him to 
 himself. 
 
 Being thus brought in actual contact with the insects, the 
 old sailor savi^ that the quickest way of getting out of the 
 3crape was to cross over to the other side. 
 
 This he proceeded to do in the least time, and with the 
 greatest possible noise. His paces were long, and made 
 with wonderful rapidity ; and each time his foot came to 
 the ground, he uttered a horrible yell, as though it had been 
 planted upon a sheet of red-hot iron. 
 
 Bill's brother had now so far recovered from his feigned 
 illness, that he was able to walk along with the Boy Slaves. 
 
 Naturally conversing about the locusts, he informed his 
 companions, that the year before he had been upon a part 
 of the Saiiran coast where a cloud of these insects had been 
 driven out to sea by a storm, and drowned. Thay were 
 afterwards washed ashore in heaps ; the effluvia from which 
 became so offensive that the fields of barley near the shore 
 could not be harvested, and many hundred acres of the crop 
 rere wholly lost to the owners 
 
258 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 THE ARABS AT HOME. 
 
 ^OON after encountering the locusts, the kafilu cam€ 
 upon a well-beaten road, running through a fertile 
 country, where hundreds of acres of barley could be seen 
 growing ou both sides. 
 
 That evening, for some reason unknown to the slaves, 
 their masters did not halt at the usual hour. They saw 
 many walled villages, where dwelt the proprietors of the 
 barley fields ; but hurried past them without stopping either 
 for water or food — although their slaves were sadly in need 
 of both. 
 
 In vain the latter complained of thirst, and begged for 
 water. The only reply to their entreaties was a harsh com- 
 mand to move on faster, frequently followed by a blow. 
 
 Towards midnight, when the hopes and strength of all 
 were nearly exhausted, the kafila arrived at a walled village, 
 where a gate was opened to admit his slaves. The old sheik 
 then informed them that they should have plenty of food 
 and drink, and would be allowed to rest for two or three 
 days in the village. 
 
 A quantity of water was then thickened with barley meal ; 
 and of this diet they were permitted to have as much as 
 they could consume. 
 
 It was after night when they entered the gate of the vil- 
 lage, and nothing could be seen. Next morning they found 
 themselves in the centre of a square enclosure surrounded 
 by about twenty houses, standing within a high wall. Flocks 
 of sheep and goats, with a number of horses, camels, and 
 donkeys, wei-e also within the inclosure. 
 
 Jim informed his companions that most of the Saaran 
 Arabs have fixed habitations, where they dwell the greaiet 
 
THE ARABS AT HOME. 2/58 
 
 parf of the year, — generally walled to\vn&. such na the one 
 they had now entered. 
 
 The wall is intended for a protection against robbers, at 
 the same time that it serves as a pen to keep their flocks 
 from straying or trespassing on the cultivated fields during 
 the night time. 
 
 It was soon discovered that the Arabs had arrived at 
 their home ; for as soon as day broke, they were seen in 
 company with their wives and families. This accounted for 
 their not making halt at any of the other villages. Being 
 60 near their own, they had made an effort to reach it with- 
 out extending their journey into another day. 
 
 " I fear we are in the hands of the wrong masters for 
 obtaining our freedom," said Jim to his companions. " If 
 they were traders, they might take us farther north and sell 
 us ; but it 's clear they are not ! They are graziers, farm- 
 ers, and robbers, when the chance arises, — that 's what they 
 be ! While waiting for their barley to ripen, they have 
 been on a raiding expedition to the desert, in tlie hope of cap- 
 turing a few slaves, to assist them in reaping their harvest." 
 
 Jim's conjecture was soon after found to be correct. On 
 the old sheik being asked when he intended taking hia 
 slaves on to Swearah, he answered : — 
 
 " Our barley is now ripe, and we must not leave it to spoil 
 You must help us in the harvest, and that will enable us to 
 g:) to Swearah all the sooner." 
 
 •' Do you leally intend to take your slaves to Swearah ? " 
 asked the Krooman. 
 
 " Certainly ! " rep-led the ^^hcik. Have we i.ot promised? 
 But we cannot leave our fields now. Bismilla i ! our grain 
 must be gathered." 
 
 '' it is just as I supposed," said Jim. " They will promise 
 anything. They do not intend taking us to Mogador at alL 
 The same promise has been ma le to me by the same sort 
 ©f people a score of times." 
 
260 TUE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 " What shall we do ? " asked Terence. 
 
 " We must do nothing," answered Jim, " We must not 
 assist them in any way, for the more luseful Ave are to them 
 the more reluctant they will be to part with us. I sliould 
 Lave obtained my liberty yeai-s ago, had I net tried to gain 
 the good-will of my Arab master.-;, by trying to make myself 
 useful to them. That war a mistake, and I can see it now. 
 We must not give them the slightest assistance in their bai- 
 ley-cutting." 
 
 "But they will compel us to help them?" suggested 
 Colin. 
 
 " They cannot do that if we remain resolute ; and I tell 
 you all that you had better be killed at once than submit. 
 If we assist in their harvest, they will find something else 
 for us to do, and your best days, as mine have been, will be 
 passed in slavery ! Each of you must make himself a burden 
 and expense to whoever owns him, and then we may be 
 passed over to some trader who has been to Mogador, and 
 knows that he can make money by taking us there to be re- 
 deemed. That is our only chance. These Arabs don't know 
 that we are sure to be purcliased for a good price in any 
 large seaport town, and they will not run any risk in taking 
 us there. Furthermore, these men are outlaws, desert rob- 
 bers, and I don't believe that they dare enter the Moorish 
 dominions. We must get transferred to other hands, and the 
 only way to do that is to refuse work." 
 
 Our adventurers agreed to be guided by Jim's counsels, 
 although confident that they would experience much diffi- 
 culty in following them. 
 
 Early on the morning of the second day after the Araba 
 reached their home, all the slaves, both white and black, 
 were roused from their slumbers ; and after a spare break- 
 fast of barley-gruel, were commanded to follow their mas- 
 ters to the grain fields, outside the walls of tlie town. 
 
 " Do you want us to work ? " asked Jim, addi-essing him 
 self directly to the old sheik. 
 
THE ARABS AT HOME. 261 
 
 • Bisiiiillah ! Yes ! " exclaimed the Arab. " We have 
 kept fou too long in idleness. What have you done, or 
 who a;'e you, that we should maintain you ? You must 
 work foi your living, as we do ourselves ! " 
 
 " We cannot do anything on land," said Jim. " We are 
 sailors, and ha /e only learnt to work on board a ship." 
 
 " By Allah, you will soon learn ! Come, follow us to the 
 barley fields ! " 
 
 " No ; we have all agreed to die rather than work for you ! 
 You promised to ttxke us to Swearah ; and we will go there 
 or die. We will not be slaves any longer ! " 
 
 Most of the Arabs, with their wives and children, had 
 now assembled around the white men, who were ordered in- 
 stantly to move on. 
 
 " It will not do for us to say we will not or can't move 
 on," said Jim, speaking to his companions in English. " We 
 must go to the field. They can make us do that ; but they 
 can't make us work. Go quietly to the field ; but don't 
 make yourselves useful when you get there." 
 
 This advice was followed ; and the Boy Slaves soon found 
 themselves by the side of a large patch of barley, ready for 
 the reaping-hook. A sickle of French manufacture was 
 then placed in the hands of each, and they were instructed 
 how to use them. 
 
 " Never mind," said Jim. " Go to work with a will, 
 mates ! We '11 show them a specimen of how reaping ia 
 done aboard ship ! " 
 
 Jim proceeded to set an example by cutting the grain in 
 a careless manner — letting the heads fall in every direction, 
 and then trampling them under foot as he moved on. 
 
 The same plan was pursued by his brother Bill, the Kroo- 
 man, and Harry Blount. 
 
 In the first attempt to use the sickle, Terence was so 
 ftW^kward as to fall forward and break tW imxlement into 
 two pieces. 
 
262 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Colin behaved no better : since he managed to cut one of 
 his fingers, and then apparently fainted away at the sight of 
 the blood. 
 
 The forenoon was passed by the Arabs in trying to train 
 their slaves to the work, but in this they were sadly unsuc- 
 cessful. 
 
 Curses, threats, and blows were expended upon them to 
 no purpose, for the Christian dogs seemed only capable of 
 doing much harm and no good. During the afternoon they 
 were allowed to lie idle upon the ground, and watch their 
 masters cutting the barley ; although this indulgence waa 
 purchased at the expense of lacerated skins and aching 
 bones. Nor was this triumph without the cost of further 
 suffering : for they were not allowed a mouthful of food or 
 a drop of water, although an abundance of both had been 
 distributed to the other laborers in the field. 
 
 All five, however, remained obstinate ; withstanding hun- 
 ger and thirst, threats, cui'sings, and stripes, — each one 
 disdaining to be the first to yield to the wishes of their Arab 
 masters. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 WORK OR DIE. 
 
 THAT night, after being driven within the walls of the 
 town, the w'liite slaves, along with their guard and the 
 Krooman, were fastened in a large stone building partly in 
 ruins, that had been recently used as % goat-pen. 
 
 They were not allowed a mouthful of food nor a drop of 
 water, and sentinels walked around all night to prevent them 
 from breaking out of their prison. 
 
 No longer targets for the beams of a blazing sun, they 
 
WORK CR DIF. 26fl 
 
 were partly relieved from tlieir sufferings ; but a .ew band 
 fuls of barley tbej- had managed to secrete a Jd bring in from 
 the field, proved only sufficient to sharpen an appetite wliich 
 they could devise no means of appeasing. 
 
 A ragijig thirst prevented them from having much sleep ; 
 and, on being turned out next morning, and ordered back to 
 the barley fields, weak with liunger and want of sleep, they 
 were strongly tempted to yield obedience to their masters. 
 
 The black slaves had worked well the day before ; and, 
 having satisfied their masters, had received plenty of food 
 and drink. 
 
 Their white companions in misery saw them eating their 
 breakfast before being ordered to the field. 
 
 " Jim," said Sailor Bill, " I 've 'alf a mind to give in. I 
 must 'ave somethin' to heat an' drink. I 'm starvin' all 
 over." 
 
 '' Don't think of it, William," said his brother. " Unless 
 you wish to remain for years in slavery, as I have done, you 
 must not yield. Our only hope of obtahiing liberty is to 
 give tlie Arabs but one chance of making anything by us, — 
 tlie chance of selling us to our countrymen. They won't let 
 us die, — don't think it ! We are worth too much for that. 
 They will try to make us work if they can ; but we are fools 
 if we let them succeed." 
 
 Again being driven to the field, another attempt was made 
 by the Arabs to get some service out of them. 
 
 " We can do nothing now," said Jim to the old sheik ; 
 " we are dying with hunger and thirst. Our life has always 
 been on the sea, and we can do nothing on land." 
 
 " There is plenty of food for those who earn it," rejoined 
 the sheik ; " and we cannot give those food who do not de- 
 serve it." 
 
 " Then give us some water." 
 
 " Allah forbid I We are not your servants to carry water 
 for you " 
 
264 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 All attempts to make the white slaves perforin t^i:.i tasi 
 having failed, they were ordered to sit down in the hot sun, 
 where they were tantalized with the sight of the food and 
 water of which they were not permitted to taste. 
 
 During the forenoon of the day, all the eloquence Jim 
 could command was required to prevent his brother from 
 yielding. The old man-o'-war's-raan was tortured by ex- 
 treme thirst, and was once or twice on the eve of selling 
 himself in exchange for a cooling draught. 
 
 Long years of suffering on the desert had inured Jim tc 
 its hardships ; and not so strongly tempted as the others, it 
 was easier for him to remain firm. 
 
 Since falling into the company of his countrymen, his 
 hope of freedom had revived, and he was determined to 
 make a grand effort to regain it. 
 
 He knew that five wliite captives were worth the trouble 
 of taking to some seaport frequented by English ships ; and 
 he believed, if they refrained from making themselves use- 
 ful, there was a prospect of their being thus disposed of. 
 
 Through his influence, therefore, the refractory slaves 
 remained stanch in their resolution to abstain from 
 work. 
 
 Their masters now saw that they were better off in the 
 field than in the prison. They could not be prevented from 
 obtaining a few heads of the barley, which they greedily ate, 
 nor from obtaining a little moisture by chewing the roots of 
 the weeds growing around them. 
 
 As soon as this wn^ noticed, two of the Ai'^os were Bent 
 to conduct them back to the place where they had been con- 
 fined on the night before. 
 
 It was with the utmost exertion that Sailor Bill and Colin 
 were able to reach the town ; while the others, with the ex- 
 ception of Jim, were in a very weak and exhausted state 
 Hunger and thirst were fast subduing them — in body, i/ 
 not in spirit. 
 
WORK OR DIE. 265 
 
 On. reaching the door of the goat-pen, they refused to go 
 in, all clamoring loudly for food and water. 
 
 Their entreaties were met with the declaration: that it 
 was tlie will of God that those who would not work should 
 Buffer starvation. 
 
 " Idleness," argued their masters, " is always punished by 
 ill-health " ; and they wound up by expressing their thauka 
 that such was the case. 
 
 It was not until the two Arabs had obtained the assist- 
 ance of several of the women and boys of the village that 
 they succeeded in getting the white slaves within the goat- 
 pen. 
 
 " Jim, I tell you I can't stand this any longer," said Sailor 
 Bill. " Call an' say to 'em as I gives in, and will work to- 
 morrow, if they will let me have water." 
 
 "And so will I," said Terence. "There is nothing in the 
 future to compensate for this suffering, and I can endure it 
 no longer." 
 
 " Nor will I," exclaimed Harry ; " I must have something 
 to eat and drink ioimediately. We shall all be punished in 
 the next world ^br self-murder in this unless we yield. 
 
 " Courage ! patience ! " exclaimed Jim. " It is better to 
 Buffer for a ^"-ew hours more than to remain all our lives in 
 slavery." 
 
 " What do I care for the future ? " muttered Terence . 
 '* the present is everything. He is a fool who kills himself 
 to-day to keep from being hungry ten years after. I wl'l 
 tiy to work to-morrow, if I live so long." 
 
 " Yes, call an' tell 'em, Jem, as 'ow we gives in. an' they 
 11 send us some refreslnnent," entreated the old sailor. " It 
 ain't in human natur to die of starvation if one can 'elp it." 
 
 But neither Jim nor the Krooman would communicate to 
 the Arabs the wishes of their companions ; and the words 
 and signals the old sailor made to attract the attention oil 
 those outside were unheeded. 
 12 
 
260 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Early in the evening, both Colin and the Krooman alse 
 exiiresBed themselves williiig to sacrifice the future for tha 
 present. 
 
 " We have nothing to do with the future," said Colin ; in 
 answer to Jim's entreaties that they should remain firm. 
 " The future is the care of God, and we are only concerned 
 with the present. We ought to promise anything if we can 
 obtain food by it." 
 
 " I tink so too now," said the Krooman ; " for it am worse 
 than sure dat if we starve now we no be slaves bom by." 
 
 " They will not quite starve us to death," said Jim. " I 
 have told you before that we are worth too much for that. 
 If we will not work they will sell us, and we may reach 
 Mogador. If we do work, we may stay here for years. I 
 entreat you to hold out one day longer." 
 
 " I cannot," answered one. 
 
 *'Nor I" exclaimed another. 
 
 " Let us hrst get something to eat, and then take our lib- 
 erty by force," said Terence, " I fancy that if I had a drink 
 of water, I could wliip all the Arabs on earth." 
 
 " And so could I," said Colin. 
 
 " And I, too," added Harry Blount. 
 
 Sailor Bill had sunk upon the floor, hardly conscious of 
 what the others were saying ; but, partly aroused by the 
 word water, repeated it, mattering, in a hoarse whisper, 
 "Water! Water!" 
 
 The Krooman and tlie three youths joined in the cry j 
 and then all, as loudly as their parched throats would per- 
 mit, shouted the word, " Water ! Water ! " 
 
 The call for water was apparently unheeded by the Arab 
 men, but it was evidently music to many of the children of 
 the village, for it attracted them to the door of the goat- 
 pen, around which they clustered, hsteuing with strong ex- 
 pressions oi' delight. 
 
 Through a long night of indescribable agony, the cry y 
 
VICTORY ! 267 
 
 "Water! "Water !" was often repeated in the per, and at 
 each time in tones fainter and more supphcating than be- 
 fore. 
 
 The cry at length became changed from a demand to a 
 piteous prajor. 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 victokt! 
 
 NEXT morning, when the Arabs opened the door of 
 the prison, Sailor Bill and Colin were found unable 
 to rise ; and the old salt seemed quite unconscious of aU 
 efforts made to awaken his attention. 
 
 Not till then did Jim's resolution begin to give way. He 
 would now submit to save them from further suffering ; but 
 although knowing it was the wish of all that he ^-hould ten- 
 der their submission on the terms the Arabs required, for a 
 while he delayed doing so, in order to discover the course 
 their masters designed adopting towards them. 
 
 "Are you Christian dogs willing to earn your food now ? " 
 Inquired the old sheik, as he entered the goat-pen. 
 
 Faint and weak with hunger, nearly mad with thirst, 
 alarmed for the condition of his brother, and pitying the ago- 
 ny of the others, Jim was about to answer tlie sheik's ques- 
 tion in the affirmative ; but there was something in the tone 
 in which the question had been put, that determined him to 
 refrain for a little longer. 
 
 The earthly happiness of six men might depend upon the 
 next word he should utter, and that word he should not 
 speak without some deliberation. 
 
 With an intellect sharpened by torture, Jim turned his 
 
268 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 gaze from the old sheik upon several other Arabs that had 
 come near. 
 
 He could see that they had arrived at some decision 
 amongst themselves, as to what they should do, and Ihiit 
 tliey did not seem much interested in the ultimatum de- 
 manded by the sheik's inquiry. 
 
 This lack of excitement or interest did not look like fur- 
 ther starvation and death ; and in place of telling the Arabs 
 that they were willing to submit, Jim informed the old sheik 
 that all were determined to die rather than remain slaves. 
 
 " There is not one of us that wishes to live," he added, 
 "except for the purpose of seeing our native land again. 
 Our bodies are now weak, but our spirits are still strong- 
 We will die ! " 
 
 On receiving this answer, the Arabs (departed, leaving the 
 Christians in the pen. 
 
 The Krooman, who had been listening during the inter- 
 Tiew, then faintly called after them to return ; but he was 
 Btopped by Jim, who still entertained the hope that his firm- 
 ness would yet be rewarded. 
 
 Half an hour passed, and Jim began to doubt again. He 
 might not have correctly interpreted the expressions he had 
 noted upon the faces of the Arabs. 
 
 " What did you tell them ? " muttered Terence. " Did 
 you tell them that we were willing to work, if they would 
 give us v/ater ? " 
 
 " Yes — certainly ! " answered Jim, now beginning to 
 regret that he had not tendered their submission before it 
 mijrht be too late. 
 
 " Then why do they not come and relieve us ? " asked 
 Terence, in a whisper — hoarse from despair. 
 
 Jim vouchsafed no answer ; and the Krooman seemed in 
 too much mental and bodily anguish to heed what had been 
 said. 
 
 Shortly after, Jim could hear the flocks being driven oul 
 
VICTOR r ! 263 
 
 of the town ; and looking through a small opening m th« 
 wall of the pen, he could see some of the Arabs going out 
 towards the barley fields. 
 
 Could it be that he had been mistaken — that the Araba 
 were going to apply the screw of stai-vation for another 
 day ? Alarmed by this conjecture, he strove to hail them, 
 and bring them back ; but the effort only resulted in a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 " May God forgive me ! " thought he. " My brother, a& 
 well as all the others, will die before night ! I have mur- 
 dered them, and perhaps myself ! " 
 
 Driven frantic with the thought, frenzy furnished him 
 with the will and ,-trength to speak out. 
 
 His voice could noM be heard, for the walls of the stono 
 building rang with the shouts of a madman ! 
 
 He assailed the door with such force that the structm-e 
 gave way, and Jim rushed out, prepared to make any pro- 
 mises or terms with their masters, to save the lives he had 
 e^idangered by his obstinacy. 
 
 His submission was not required : for on looking out, two 
 men and three or four boys were seen coming towards the 
 pen, bearing bowls of water, and dishes filled with barley- 
 gruel. 
 
 Jim had conquered in tie strife between master and man. 
 The old sheik had given orders for the white slaves to be fed. 
 Jim's frenzy immediately subsided into an excitement of 
 a different nature. 
 
 Seizing a calabash of water, he ran to his brother Bill ; 
 and raising him into a sitting posture, he apphed the vessel 
 to the man-o'-war's-man's lips. 
 
 Bill had not strength even to di-ink, and the water had to 
 be poured down his throat. 
 
 Not until all of his companions had drunk, and swallowed 
 a few mouthfuls of tlie barley-gruel, did Jim himself partake 
 of anj thing. 
 
270 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 The effect of food and water in restoring tlie energies of 
 a starving man is almost miraculous ; and he now congratu 
 lated his companions on the success of his scheme. 
 
 " It is all right I " he exclaimed. " We have conquered 
 them ! We sludl not have to reap their harvest ! We shall 
 be fed, fattened, and sold ; and perhaps be taken to Mog». 
 dor. We should thauk God for bringing us all safely 
 through the trial. Had we yielded, there would have been 
 no hope of ever regaining our liberty \ " 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI. 
 
 SOLD AGAIN. 
 
 TWO days elapsed, during which time our adventurera 
 were served with barley-gruel twice a day. They 
 were allowed a suflicient quantity of water, with only the 
 trouble of bringing it from the well, and enduring a good 
 deal of insult and abuse from the women and children whom 
 they chanced to meet on their way. 
 
 The second Krooman, who, in a moment of weakness 
 inspired by the torture of thirst, had assisted the other 
 slaves at their task, now tried in vain to get off from work- 
 ing. He came each evening to the pen to converse with 
 his countryman ; and at these meetings bitterly expressed 
 his regret that he had submitted. 
 
 There was no hope for him now, for he had given proof 
 that he could be made useful t:) his owners. 
 
 On the evening of the second day after they had been 
 relieved from starvation, the white slaves were visited in 
 their place of confinement by three Arabs they had noi 
 before seen. 
 
SOLD AGAIN. 2''l 
 
 These were well-armed, well-dressed, fine-looking fellows, 
 having altogether a more respectable appearance than any 
 inhabitants of the desert they had yet encountered. 
 
 Jim immediately entered into conversation with them -, 
 and learned that they were merchants, travelling with a 
 caravan ; and that they had claimed the hospitality of the 
 town for that night. 
 
 They were willing to purchase slaves; and had visited 
 the pen to examine those their hosts were offering for 
 Bale. 
 
 " You are just the men we are most anxious to see," said 
 Jim, in the Arabic language, which, during his long resi- 
 dence in the country, lie had become acquainted with, and 
 could speak fluently. " We want some merchant to buy us, 
 and take us to Mogador, where we may find friends to ran- 
 som us." 
 
 '' I once bought two slaves," rejoined one of the merchants, 
 " and at great expense took them to Mogador. Thej told 
 me that their consul would be sure to redeem them ; but I 
 found that they had no consul thei'e. They were not re- 
 deemed ; and I had to bring tliem away again, — having all 
 the trouble and expense of a long journey." 
 
 " "Were they Englishmen ? " asked Jim. 
 
 " No : Spaniards." 
 
 "I thought so. Englishmen would certainly have been 
 ransomed." 
 
 " That is not so certain," replied the merchant ; " the 
 English may not always have a consul in Mogador to buy 
 up his countrymen." 
 
 " "We do not care whether there is one or not ! " answered 
 Jim. " One of the young fellows you see here has an uncle 
 — a rich merchant in Mogador, who will ransom not only 
 him, but all of his friends. The three young men you see 
 are officers of an English ship-of-vvar. They have rich fa- 
 thers iu England, — all of them grand sheiks, — and they 
 
272 THE BOY SLA\T:S. 
 
 were learning to be captains of war-ships, when they wer* 
 lost on this coast. The uncle of one of them in Mogador 
 will redeem the whole party of us." 
 
 " Which is he who has the rich uncle ? " inquired one cf 
 the Arabs. 
 
 Jim pointed to Harry Blount, saying, " That is the young- 
 ster. His uncle owns many great vessels, that come every 
 year to Swearah, laden with rich cargoes." 
 
 '* What is the name of this uncle ? " 
 
 To give an appearance of truth to his story, Jim knew 
 that it was necessary for some of the others to say some- 
 thing that would confirm it ; and turning towards Harry, 
 he muttered, " Master Blount, you are expected to say 
 something — only two or three words — any thing you 
 like ! " 
 
 " For God's sake, get them to buy us ! " said Harry, in 
 complying with the singular request made to him. 
 
 Believing that the name he must give to the Arabs should 
 something resemble in sound the words Harry had spoken, 
 Jim told them that the name of the Mogador merchant was 
 ** For God's sake buy us." 
 
 After repeating these words two or three times, the Arabs 
 were able to pronounce them — after a fashion. 
 
 " Ask the young man," commanded one of them, " if he is 
 sure the merchant ' For God's sake bias ' will ransom you 
 all?" 
 
 " When I am done speaking to you," said Jim, whisper- 
 ing to Harry, " say Yes ! nod your head, and then uttor 
 some words ! " 
 
 " Yes ! " exclaimed Harry, giving his head an abrupt in- 
 clination. " I think I know what you are trying to do, Jim. 
 All right!" 
 
 " Yes ! " said Jim, turning to the Aiab ; " the young fel* 
 low says that he is quite certain his uncle wiU buy us all 
 Our fi-iends at home will repay him." 
 
SOID AGAIN. 273 
 
 " But liow about the black man ? " asked one cf the mer- 
 chants. " He is not an Englishman ? " 
 
 " No ; but he speaks English. He has sailed in English 
 ships, and will certainly be redeemed with the rest." 
 
 The Arabs now retired from the pen, after promising to 
 call and see our adventurers early in the morning. 
 
 Ai'ter their departure, Jim related the whole of the con- 
 versation to his companion-s, which had the effect of inspix- 
 Lig them with renewed hope. 
 
 " Tell them anything," said HaiTy, " and promise any- 
 thing ; for I think there is no doubt of our being ransomed, 
 if taken to Mogador, although I 'm sure I have no uncle 
 there, and don't know whether there 's any English consul 
 at that port." 
 
 " To get to Mogador is our only chance," said Jim ; " and 
 I wish I were guilty of no worse crime than using deception, 
 to induce some one to take us there. I have a hope that 
 these men will buy us on speculation ; and if lies will induce 
 them to do so, they shall have plenty of them from me. 
 And you," continued he, turning to the Krooman, " you 
 must not let them know that you speak their language, or 
 they will not give a dollar for you. When tliey come here 
 in the morning, you must converse with the rest of us in 
 EngHsh, — so that they may have reason to think that you 
 will also be redeemed." 
 
 Next morning, the merchants again came to the pen, and 
 the slaves, at their request, arose and walked out to the. 
 open space in front, where they could be better examined. 
 
 After becoming satisfied that all were capable of travel- 
 ling, one of the Arabs, addressing Jim, said : — 
 
 " We are going to purchase you, if you satisfy us that 
 you are not trying to deceive us, and agree to the terras we 
 offer. Tell the nephew of the English merchant that we 
 must be paid one hundred and fifty Spanisli dollars fur each 
 of you." 
 
 12* B 
 
274 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Jim made the communication to Harry ; who at once cob 
 sented that this sum should be paid. 
 
 " What is the name of his uncle ? " asked one of the 
 Arabs. " Let the young man tell us." 
 
 " They wish to know the name of your uncle," said Jim, 
 turning to Harry. " The name I told you yesterday. You 
 must try and remember it ; for I must not be heard repeat- 
 ing it to you." 
 
 " For God's sake buy us ! " exclaimed Harry. 
 
 The Arabs looked at each other with an expression that 
 seemed to say, " It 's all right ! " 
 
 " Now," said one of the party, " I must tell you what will 
 be the penalty, if we be deceived. If we take you to 
 Mogador, and find that there is no one there to redeem you, 
 if the young man, who says he has an uncle, be not telling 
 the truth, tlien we shall cut his throat, and bring the rest 
 of you back to the desert, to be sold into perpetual slavery. 
 Tell him that." 
 
 " They are going to buy us," said Jim to Harry Blount ; 
 *' but if we are not redeemed in Mogador, you are to have 
 your throat cut for deceiving them." 
 
 " All right ! " said Harry, smiling at the thi-eat, " that wDl 
 be better than living any longer a slave in the Saara." 
 
 " Now look at the Krooman "; suggested Sailor Bill, " and 
 say something about him." 
 
 Harry taking the hint, turned towards the African. 
 
 " I hope," said he, " that they will purchase the poor fel- 
 low ; and that we may get him redeemed. After the many 
 services he has rendered us, I should not like to leave him 
 behind." 
 
 " He consents that you may kill the Krooman, if we ara 
 not ransomed " ; said Jim, speaking to the Arab merchants, 
 " but he does not like to promise more than one hundred 
 dollars for a negro. His uncle might refuse to pay more." 
 
 For some niinutes the Arabs conversed with each other 
 
SOLD AGAIN. 273 
 
 m a low tone ; and then one of them replied, " It is welL 
 We will take one hundred dollars for the negro. And now 
 get ready for the road. We shall start with you to-morrow 
 morninsr by daybreak." 
 
 The merchants then went off to complete their bargain 
 with the old sheik, and make other arrangements for their 
 departure. 
 
 For a few minutes the white slaves kept uttering excla 
 mations of delight at the prospect of being once more re 
 stored to liberty. Jim then gave them a translation of 
 what he had said about the Krcoman. 
 
 " I know the Arab character so well," said he, " that I 
 did not wish to agree to all their terms without a little hag- 
 gling, which prevents them from entertaining the suspicion 
 that we are trying to deceive them. Besides, as the Kroo- 
 man is not an English subject, there may be great difficulty 
 in getting him redeemed ; and we should therefore bargain 
 for him as cheaply as possible." 
 
 Not long after the Arab merchants had taken their depar- 
 ture from the pen, a supply of food and drink was served 
 out to them : which, from its copiousness, proved that it was 
 provided at the expense of theu* new owners. 
 
 This beginning augured well for their future treatment ; 
 and that night was spent by the Boy Slaves in a state of 
 contentment and reposa greater than they had experienced 
 gince first setting foot on the inhospitable shores of the 
 
276 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXII. 
 
 ONWARD ONCE MORE. 
 
 EARLY next morning our adventurers were awakenedj 
 and ordered to prepare for the road. 
 
 The Arab merchants had purchased from their late hosts 
 three donkeys, upon which the white slaves were allowed to 
 ride in turns. Harry Blount, however, was distinguished 
 from tlie rest. As the nephew of the rich merchant, " For 
 God's sake buy us ! " he was deemed worthy of higher fa- 
 vor, and was permitted to have a camel. 
 
 In vain he protested against being thus elevated above his 
 companions. The Arabs did not heed his remonstrances, 
 and at a few words from Jim he discontinued them. 
 
 " They think that we are to be released from slavery by 
 the money of your relative," said Jim, " and you must do 
 nothing to undeceive them. Not to humor them might 
 awaken their suspicions. Besides, as you are the responsi- 
 ble person of the party, — the one whose throat is to be cut 
 if the money be not found, — you are entitled to a little dis- 
 tinction, as a compensation for extra anxiety. 
 
 The Krooman, who had joined the slaves in cutting the 
 grain, was in the field at work when the merchants moved 
 off, and was not present to bid farewell to his more fortunate 
 countryman. 
 
 Alter travelling about twelve miles through a fertile coun • 
 try, much of which was in cultivation, the Arab merchants 
 arrived at a large reservoir of water, where they encamped 
 for the night. 
 
 The water was in a stone tank, placed so as to catch all 
 the rain that fcjU in a long narrow valley, gradually descend- 
 mg from some hills to the northward. 
 
 Jim had visited the place before, and told his companion* 
 
ONWARD ONCE MORE. 277 
 
 that tLe tank uad been constiucted by a man whose memory 
 was much respected, and who had died nearly a hundrecl 
 years acjo. 
 
 During the night the Krooman, who had been left behind, 
 entered the encampment, confident in the belief that he had 
 eaciiped from his taskmasters. 
 
 At sunset he had contrived to conceal himself among the 
 barley slieaves until his masters were out of sight, when he 
 had started ofl' on the track taken by the Arab merchants. 
 
 He was not allowed long indulgence in his dream of lib- 
 erty. On the following morning, as tlie kafila was about to 
 continue its journey, three men were seen approaching on 
 swift camels ; and shortly after Eias Abdallah Yessed, and 
 two of his followers rode up. 
 
 They were in pursuit of the runaway Krooman, and in 
 great rage at the trouble which he had caused them. So 
 anxious were the Boy Slaves that the poor fellow should 
 continue along with them, that, for their sake, the Ai-ab 
 merchants made a strenuous effort to purchase him ; but 
 Rias Abdallah obstinately refused to sell him at anything 
 like a reasonaljle price. The Krooman had given proof that 
 he could be very useful in the harvest -field ; and a sum 
 much greater than had been paid for any of the others, waa 
 demanded for him. He was worth more to his pj-esent 
 owners than what the Arab merchants could afford to give ; 
 and was therelbre dragged back to the servitude from which 
 he had hoped to escape. 
 
 " "i ou can see now, that I was right," said Jim. " Htd 
 we consented to cut their harvest, we should never have luid 
 aa o])portunity of regaining our liberty. Our labor for a 
 single year would have been worth as mucli to them as the 
 price they received for us, and we should Iiave been held in 
 pei'iietual bondage." 
 
 Jim's companions could perceive the truth of this obser- 
 Tdtion, but not without being conscious that their good 
 
278 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 fortune wa?, on their part, wholly undeserved, and that had 
 it not been for him, they would have yielded to the wishes 
 of tlieir late masters. 
 
 After another march, the merchants made halt near some 
 wells, around Avhich a large Arab encampment was found 
 already e.-tablished, — the flocks and herds wandering oveir 
 the adjacent plain. Here our adventurers had an opportu- 
 aity of observing some of the manners and customs; of thia 
 Domadic people. 
 
 Here, for the first time, they witnessed the Arab method 
 of making butter. 
 
 A goat's skin, nearly filled with the milk of camels, asses, 
 slieep, and goats, all mixed together, was susi)ended to the 
 ridge pole of a tent, and then swung to and fj-o by a child, 
 until the butter Avas produced. The milk was then poured 
 off, and the butter clawed out of the skin by the black dirty 
 fingers of the women. 
 
 The Arabs allege that they wore the first people who dis- 
 covered the art of making butter, — though the discovery 
 does not entitle them to any great credit, since they could 
 scarce have avoided making it. The necessity of carrying 
 milk in these skin bags, on a journey, must have conducted 
 them to the discovery. The agitation of the fluid, while be- 
 ing transported on the backs of the camels, producing the 
 .'esult, naturally suggested the- idea of bringing it about by 
 similar means when tliey were not travelling. 
 
 At this place the slaves were treated to some barley-cakes, 
 and were allowed a little of the uulter ; and this, notwith- 
 standing the filthy mode in which it had been prepai-ed, ap- 
 peared to them the mo>t delicious tliey had ever tasted. 
 
 During the evening, the three merchants, along with sev- 
 eral other Ai-abs, seated themselves in a circle; when a pipe 
 was lit and pa^sed round from one to another. Each would 
 take a long draw, and tlieu hand the pipe to his left-hand 
 neighbor. 
 
ANOTHER BARGAIN. 279 
 
 While thus occupied, they kept up an animated conversa- 
 tion, in which the word " Swearah " was often pronounced. 
 Swearah of course meant " Mogador." 
 
 " They are talking about us," said Jim, " and we must 
 learn for what purpose. I am afraid there is something 
 wrong. Krooman ! " he continued, addressing himself to the 
 black, " vhey don't know that you understand their language. 
 Lie down near them, and pretend to be asleep ; but take 
 note of every word they say. If I go up to them they will 
 drive me away." 
 
 The Krooman did as desired ; and carelessly sauntering 
 near the circle, appeared to be searching for a soft place on 
 which to lay himself for the night. 
 
 This he discovered some seven or eight paces from thfc 
 spot where the Arabs were seated. 
 
 " I have been disappointed about obtaining my freedom so 
 many times," muttered Jim, "that I can scarce believe I 
 shall ever succeed. Those fellows are talking about Moga- 
 dor; and I don't like their looks. Hark! what is that 
 about ' more than you can get in Swearah ! ' I believe these 
 new Arabs are making an offer to buy us. If so, may their 
 prophets curse them ! " 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIII. 
 
 ANOTHER BARGAIN. 
 
 /'I'^IIE conversation amongst the Arabs was kept up until 
 I a late hour ; and during the time it contijiucd, our 
 ftdventui-ers were impatiently awaiting the return of the 
 Krooman. 
 
 He came at length, after the Arabs had retired to their 
 
280 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 tents ; and all gathered around him, eager to learn what he 
 had heard. 
 
 " I find out too much," said he, in answer to their inqui- 
 ries ; " too much, and no much good." 
 
 « What was it ? " 
 
 " Two of you be sold to morrow." 
 
 " What two ? " 
 
 " No one know. One man examine us all in the morn- 
 ing, but take only two." 
 
 After suffering a long lesson teaching the virtue of pa- 
 tience, they learnt from the Krooman that one of those who 
 had been conversing with their masters was a grazier, own- 
 ing large droves of cattle ; and that he had lately been to 
 Swearah. 
 
 He had told the merchants that they would not be able 
 to get a large price for their slaves in that place ; and that 
 the chances were much against their makuig more than the 
 actual expenses incurred in so long a journey. He assured 
 the Arab merchants that no Christian consul or foreign 
 merchant m Mogador would pay a dollar more for redeem- 
 ing six slaves than what they could be made to pay for two 
 or three ; that they were not always willing or prepared tc 
 pay anything ; and that whenever they did redeem a slave, 
 they did not consider his value, but only the time and ex- 
 pense that had been incurred in bringing him to the place. 
 
 Under tlie influence of these representations, the Arab 
 merchants ha'l agi-eed to sell two of their white slaves to the 
 grazier, — thinking they would get as much for the remain- 
 ing four as they would by taking all six to the end of the 
 journey. 
 
 The owner of the herds was to make his choice in the 
 morning. 
 
 " I thought there was a breaker ahead," exc laimed Jim, 
 after the Krooman ha'l concluded his report. " We nmst not 
 be separated except by liberty or death. Our masters must 
 
ANOTHER BARGAIN. 281 
 
 take us all to Mogador. There is trouble before ns yet ; 
 but we must be firm, and overcome it. Fii'mness has saved 
 us once, and may do so again." 
 
 After all had promised to be guided in the coming emer- 
 gency by Jim, they laid themselves along the ground, and 
 sought rest in sleep. 
 
 Next morning, while they were eating their breakfast, 
 they were visited by the grazier who was expected to mako 
 choice of two of their number. 
 
 " Which is the one who speaks Arabic ? " he inquired 
 from one of the merchants. 
 
 Jim was pointed out, and was at once selected as one of 
 the two to be purcha.-ed. 
 
 " Tell 'im to buy me, too, Jim," said Bill, " "We '11 sail in 
 company, you and I, though I don't much like partin' with 
 the young gentlemen here." 
 
 " You shall not part either with them or me, if I can 
 help it," answered Jim ; " but we must expect some torture. 
 Let all bear it like devils ; and don't give in. That 's our 
 only chance ! " 
 
 Glancing his eyes over the other slaves, the grazier se- 
 lected Terence as the second for whom he was willing to pay 
 a price. 
 
 His terms having been accepted by the merchants, they 
 •were about concluding the bargain, when they were accosted 
 by Jim. 
 
 He assured them that he and his companions were deter- 
 m/ned to die, before they should be separated, — that none 
 of them would do any work if retained in slavery, — and 
 that all were determined to be taken to Swearah. 
 
 The merchants and the buyer only smiled at this inter- 
 ruption ;. and went on with the negotiation. 
 
 In vain 3id Jim appeal lo their cupidity, — reminding 
 them that the merchant, " for God's sake bias," v/ould pay • 
 for higher price for himself and his companirms. 
 
282 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 His arguments and entreaties failed to change their deteik 
 miuation, — the bargain was concluded; and Jim and Ter- 
 ence wei'e made over to their new master. 
 
 The mercl ants then mounted their camels, and ordered 
 the other four to follow them. 
 
 Harry Blount, Colin, and Sailor Bill answered this com- 
 mand by sulkily sitting down upon the sand. 
 
 Another command from the merchants was given in sharp 
 tones that betrayed their rising wrath. 
 
 " Obey them ! " exclaimed Jim. " Go on ; and Master 
 Terence and I will follow you. We '11 stand the brunt of 
 the battle. They shall not hold me here alive ! " 
 
 Colin and Bill each mounted a donkey, and Harry his 
 camel — the Arab merchants seeming quite satisfied at the 
 result of their slight exliibitiou of auger. 
 
 Jim and Terence attempted to follow them ; bat their new 
 master was prepared for this ; and, at a word of command, 
 several of his followers seized hold of and fast bound both 
 of them. 
 
 Jim's threat that they should not hold him alive, had thus 
 proved but an idle boast. 
 
 Harry, Colin, and Bill, now turned back, dismounted, and 
 showed their determination to remain with their compan- 
 ions, by sitting down alongside of them. 
 
 " These Christian dogs do not wish for liberty ! " ex- 
 claimed one of the merchants. ''Allah iurbid that we should 
 force them to accept it. Who will buy them ? " 
 
 These words completely upset all Jim's plans. He saw 
 that he was depriving the others of the only opportunity 
 they might ever have of obtaining their liberty. 
 
 " Go on, go on ! " he exclaimed. " Make no further re- 
 sistance. It is possible they may take you to Mogadon 
 Do not throw away the chance." 
 
 " We are not goin' to lave you, Jim," said Bill, " not even 
 for liberty, — leastways, I 'm not. Don 't you be afeerd o 
 that I" 
 
MORE TORTURE. 288 
 
 " Of a )ur8C we will not, unless we are forced to do so," 
 added H irry. " Have you not said that we must keep to- 
 gether ?■" 
 
 " Have you not all promised to be guided by me ? " re- 
 plied Jim. " I tell you now to make no more resistance 
 Go on with tliem if you wish ever to be free ! " 
 
 " Jim knows what he is about," interposed Colin ; " let is 
 obey him." 
 
 With some reluctance, Harry and Bill were induced to 
 mount again ; but just as they were moving away, they were 
 recalled by Jim, who told them not to leave ; and that all 
 must persevere in the determination not to be separated. 
 
 " The man has certainly gone mad," reflected Harry 
 Blount, as he turned back once more. " We must no long- 
 er be controlled by him ; but Terence must not be left be- 
 hind. We cannot forsake Mm." 
 
 Again the three dismounted, and returning to the spot 
 where Jim and Terence lay fast bound along the sand, sat 
 detenrunedly down beside them. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. 
 
 MORE TORTURE. 
 
 ri"^HE sudden change of purpose and the coui^ter-ordera 
 _L given by Jim were caused by something he had just 
 beard while listening to the conversation of the Arabs, 
 
 Seeing that the merchants, rather than have any unneces- 
 saiy trouble with them, were disposed to sell them all, Jim 
 had been unwilling to deprive his brother and the others of 
 an opportunity of obtaining their freedom. For this reason 
 
284 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 had he entreated tliem to leave Terence and himself to the?; 
 fate. 
 
 But just as he had prevailed on Ilany and his companion 
 to go (|uietly, he learnt from the Arabs that the man who 
 had purchased Terence and himself refused to have any 
 more of them ; and also that the other Arabs present were 
 either unable oi unwilling to buy them. 
 
 The merchants, therefore, would have to take them far- 
 ther before they could dispose of them. 
 
 In Jim's mind then revived the hope that, by opposmg 
 the wishes of his late masters, he and Terence might be 
 bought back again and taken on to Mogador. 
 
 It was this hope that had induced him to recall his compan- 
 ions after urging them to depart. 
 
 A few words explained his apparently strange conduct 
 to Harry and Colin, and they promised to resist every at- 
 tempt made to take them any farther unless all should go in 
 company. 
 
 The merchants in vain commanded and entreated that the 
 Christian dogs should move on. They used threats, and 
 then resorted to blows. 
 
 Harry, to whom they had hitherto shown much respect, 
 was beaten until his scanty garments were saturated with 
 blood. 
 
 Unwilling to see others suffering so much torture unsup- 
 ported vj any selfish desire, Jim again counselled Harry 
 and the others to yield obedience to their masters. 
 
 In this counsel he was warmly seconded by Terence. 
 
 But Harry declared his determination not to desert his 
 old shipmate Colin, and Bill remained equally firm under the 
 torture ; while the Krooman, knowing that his only chance 
 of liberty depended on remaining true to the white slaves, 
 and keei>ing in their coqipauy, could not be made to yield. 
 
 Perceiving that all his entreaties — addressed to his broth* 
 p.r, Harry, and Cohn — could not put an end to the painfiu 
 
MGhE TORTURE. 285 
 
 Bcene he was compelled to witness, Jim strove to effect soma 
 purpose by making an appeal to his late masters. 
 
 " Buy us back, and take us all to Swearah as you prom- 
 ised," said he. " If you do so, we will go cheerfully as we 
 were doing before. I tell you, you will be well paid for youT 
 trouble." 
 
 One of the merchants, placing some confidence in the truth 
 of this representation, now offered to buy Jim and Terence 
 en his own account ; but their new master refused to part 
 with his newly-acquired property. 
 
 A crowd of men, women, and children had now gathered 
 around the spot ; and from all sides were heard shouts of 
 " Kill the obstinate Christian ' dogs.' How dare they resist 
 the will of true believers ! " 
 
 This advice was given by those who had no pecuniary in- 
 terest in the chattels in question ; but the merchants, who 
 had invested a large sum in the purchase of the white slaves, 
 bad no idea of making such a sacrifice for the gratification 
 of a mere passion. 
 
 There was but one way for them to overcome the difficul- 
 ty that had so unexpectedly presented itself. This was to 
 separate the slaves by force, taking the four along with them ; 
 and leaving the other two to the purchaser who would not 
 revoke his bargain. 
 
 To accomplish this, the assistance of the bystanders was 
 required and readily obtained. 
 
 Harry was fir^t seized and placed on the back of his cam- 
 el, to which he was firmly bound. 
 
 Colin, Bill, and the Krooman were each set astride of a 
 donkey, and then made fast by having their feet tied under 
 the animal's belly. 
 
 For a small sum the merchants then engaged two of th« 
 Arabs to accompany them and guard the white slaves to th« 
 frontier of the Moorish empire, a distance of two days' jour- 
 
286 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Wliile the party was about to move away from the spo^ 
 one of the ineichants, addressing himself to Jim, made the 
 following observations. 
 
 " Tell the young man, the nephew of the merchant, 
 * For God's sake bias,' that since we have started for 
 Swearab in the belief that his story is true, we shall now 
 take him there whether he is willing or not, and if he has 
 ill anyway deceived us, he shall surely die."' 
 
 " He has not deceived you," said Jim, " take him and the 
 others there, and you will certainly be paid." 
 
 " Then why do they not go willingly ? " 
 
 " Becau>^e tliey do not wish to leave their friends." 
 
 " Ungrateful dogs ! cannot they be thankful for their own 
 good fortune ? Do they take us for slaves, that we should 
 do their wiU ? " 
 
 While the conversation was going on, the other two mer- 
 chants had headed their animals to the road ; and in a min- 
 ute after Harry Blount and Colin had parted with their old 
 messmate Terence, without a hope of ever meeting him 
 again. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXV. 
 
 EN ROUTE. 
 
 AND now away for the Mooi''<sh frontier . 
 Away, — trusting tliat the last hasty promise of the 
 merchant to test their earnest story, and yield to the impor- 
 tunate desires which they had so long cherished, might not 
 be unfuUilled. 
 
 Away, — out into the desert again ; into that broad, bar- 
 ren wilderness of sand, stretchuig wearily on as far as ey« 
 
EN KOUTE. 287 
 
 eould reacli, aud beyond the utmost limil of human steps, 
 where the wild beasts almost fear to tread. 
 
 Away, — under the glare of the tropic sun, whose torrid 
 beams fall from heavens that glow like hot walls of brass, 
 and beat down througli an atmosphere whose faint undu- 
 lations in the breath of the desert wind ebb and flow ovei 
 the parched travellers, like waves of a fiery sea ; under a 
 sun that seems to grow ever larger and brighter as the tired 
 eyes, sick with beholding its yellow splendor overflowing all 
 the world, yet turn toward it their fascinated gaze, and 
 faint into burning dryness at its sight. 
 
 Away, — from the coolness of city walls, and the dark 
 shadows of narrow, high-built streets, where the sunlighl 
 comes only at the height of noon, where men hide within 
 doors as the hot hours draw nigh, and rest in silent cham- 
 bers, or drowse away the time with tchihouque or nargJdkh^ 
 whose softened odor of the rich Eastern tobacco floats up 
 through perfumed waters and tubes of aromatic woods to 
 lei_surely lips, and curls in dim wreaths before restful eyelids 
 half dropping to repose. 
 
 A.way, — from the association of men in street, lane, ba- 
 zaar, and market-place. No very profitable or happy asso- 
 ciation for the poor captives, one might think ; and yet not 
 so. For in every group of bystanders, or bevy of passers, 
 they perchance might see him who should prove their angel 
 of deliverance, — a kindly merchant, a new speculator, or 
 even, by some event of gracious fortune, a countryman or a 
 friend. 
 
 Away, — from all that they had boriie and hoped, and 
 borne and seen and suffered, into the desert whose paths lay 
 invisible to them, mapped out in the keen intellects of their 
 guides and guards, who read the streaming sand of Saiira 
 as sailors read tlie wilds of sweeping seas, but whose dusky 
 faces, as inscrutable as the barren wastes, revealed no trace 
 of tne secret of the path they led, — Avh<jther ind'jed the 
 
288 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 great IMoorish Empire were their destination, or wliethex 
 they turned their steps to some unknown and untried goal. 
 
 Away, — from the hum of business, from the gossip of 
 idlers and the staid speech of a city into the silence of the 
 vast desolation wherein they moved, the only I'easoning, 
 thinking beings it contained. Silence all around, unbroken 
 save by the smothered tread of the beasts in their little 
 train, the shouts of the drivers, the chattering of the attend- 
 ants, the rattling of harness and burdens, and the soft sough 
 of the sand as it sank back into the hot level from whict 
 the passing hoofs had disturbed it. 
 
 Away, away, — and who shall attempt to paint the feel- 
 ings of the captives as their wanderings began again ? It 
 would need a brilliant pen to convey the sensations with 
 which the voyageur, eager for scenes of adventure and fresh 
 from the hive<l-up haunts of civilization, would enter upon a 
 desert jaunt, to whom £dl was full of novelty and interest, 
 whose companions were subjects for curious study, speaking 
 in accents the unfamiliar Oriental cadence of which fell 
 pleasantly upon his tar, and who found in every hour some 
 fresh cause for wonder or pleasure. But a pen of marvel- 
 lous power and pathos must be invoked to portray the min- 
 gled emotions that swayed in swilt succession the minds of 
 our Boy Slaves ! No charm existed for them in the strange- 
 ness of desert scener)', Arab comradeship, and the murmur 
 of Eastern tongues ; they had long passed the time for that, 
 while their bitter familiarity with all these made even a 
 deep revulsion of feeling in their sorely tried souls. Hope, 
 fear, doubt, fatigue, anxious yearning, and vague desj)air, 
 — all in turn swept through their thoughts, even as the 
 dust of their pitiless pathway swept over their scorched 
 faces, and covered with effacing monotony every vestige 
 of their passage. Mine is no such potent pen, and so let 
 us leave them, bound to their beasts of burden, going down 
 from the abodes of men into the depths again ; and so lei 
 us leave them, journeying ever onward, — away, away I 
 
HOrL DEFERRED. SB9 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVI, 
 
 HOPE DEFERRED. 
 
 1"10R the first hour of their journey, Harry, Colin, and 
 . Sailor Bill, were borne along fast bound upon the 
 backs of their animals. So disagreeable did they find this 
 mode of locomotion, that the Krooman was requested to 
 inform their masters, that they were willing to accompany 
 them without further opposition, if allowed the freedom of 
 their limbs, this was the first occasion on which the Kroo- 
 man had made known to the Arab merchants that he could 
 speak their language. 
 
 After receiving a few curses and blows for having so long 
 concealed his knowledge of it, the slaves were unbound, and 
 the animals they bestrode were driven along in advance of 
 the others, while the two hired guards were ordered to keep 
 a short watch over them. 
 
 The journey was continued until a late hour of the night; 
 when they reached the gate of a high wall enclosing a small 
 town. 
 
 Here a long parley ensued, and at first the party seemed 
 likely to be turned back upon their steps to pass the night 
 in the desert, but at last the guardians of the village, being 
 Batislied with the representations of the Arabs, unbarred the 
 portals and let them enter. 
 
 After the slaves liad been conducted inside, and the gate 
 fastened behind them, their masters, relieved of all anxiety 
 about losing tlieir property, accei)ted the hospitality of the 
 sheik of the village, and took their departure for his house^ 
 directing only that the white slaves should be fed. 
 
 After the latter had eateji a hearty meal, consisting of 
 barl«y-bread and milk ; thev were conducted to a pen, whlck 
 
 13 S 
 
THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 tliey were told was to be their sleeping-plaf>e, and there they 
 passed the greater part of tlie night in fighting fleas. 
 
 Never before had either of them encountered these in 
 8(!cts, either so large in size or of so keen appetites. 
 
 It was but at the hour at which their journey should have 
 been resumed, that they forgot their hopes and cares in Ihe 
 repose of sleep. Weary in body and soul, they slept on till 
 a late hour ; and when aroused to consciousness by an Arab 
 bringing some food, they were surprised to see that the sun 
 was high up in the heavens. 
 
 Why had they not been awaliened before ? 
 
 Why this delay ? 
 
 In the mind of each was an instinctive fear that there 
 must be something wrong, — that some other obstacle had 
 arisen, blocking up their road to freedom. Hours passed, 
 and their masters came not near them. 
 
 They remained in much anxiety, vainly endeavoring to 
 fiurmise wliat had caused the interruption to their journey. 
 
 Knowing that the merchants had expressed an intention 
 to conduct them to Mogador as soon as possible, they could 
 not doubt but what the delay arose from some cause affect- 
 ing their own welfare. 
 
 Late in the afternoon they were visited by their masters ; 
 and in that interview their \\orst fears were more than 
 realized. 
 
 By the aid of the Krooman, one of the merchants in- 
 formed Harry tliat they had been deceived, — that the 
 sheik, of whose hospitality they had been partaking, liad 
 often visited Swearah, and was acquainted with all the for- 
 eign residents there. He had told them tliat there wa? no 
 one of the name " For God sake byas." 
 
 He had assured tliem that they were bi>iig imposed upon; 
 and that Ly taking the wliite slaves to Swearah, they would 
 certainly lose them. 
 
 " We shall not kill you," said one of the masters to Half 
 
nOl'E DEFERRED. 291 
 
 ry, "for wj have not had the trouble of carrying ydu the 
 whole distance; and besides, we should be injuring our- 
 selves. We shall take you all to the borders of the desert, 
 and there sell you for what you v>'ill fetch." 
 
 Harj-y told the Krooman to inform his masters that he 
 hr*d freely pledged his existence on the truth of the story 
 be had told them ; that he certainly had an uncle and friend 
 in Mogador, who would redeem them all ; but that, should 
 his uncle not be in Swearah at the time they should arrive 
 there, it would make no difference, as they would certainly 
 be ransomed by the English Consul. " Tell them," added 
 Harry, " that if they will take us to Swearah, and we are 
 not ransomed as I promised, they shall be welcome to take 
 my life. I will then willingly die. Tell them not to sell 
 us until they have proved my words false ; and not to injure 
 themselves and us by trusting too much to the words of 
 another. 
 
 To this communication the merchants made reply: — 
 That they had been told that slaves brought from the desert 
 into the Empire of Morocco could, and sometimes did, claim 
 the protection of the government, which set them free with- 
 out paying anything ; and those who were at the expense 
 of bringing them obtained nothing for their trouble. 
 
 One of the merchants, whose name was Bo Musem, 
 seemed inclined to listen with some favor to the representa- 
 lions of Harry; but he was overruled by the other two, so 
 that all his assertions about the wealth of his parents at 
 home, and the immense worth he and his comrades were to 
 this country, as officers in its navy, failed to convince hia 
 masters that they would be redeemed. 
 
 The merchants at length went away, leaving Harry and 
 Colin in an agcuy of despair; while Sailor Bill and the 
 Krooman seemed wholly indifferent as to their future fate. 
 The prospect of being again taken to the desert, seemed to 
 have so benumbed the intellect of both, xs to leave them 
 incapable of emotion. 
 
292 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Hope, fear^ and energy seemed to have forsaken the old 
 Bailor, who, usually so fond of thinkii_g aloud, had not now 
 sufficient spirit left, even for the anathematizing of his ene- 
 mies. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVII. 
 
 LATE in the evening of the second night spent within 
 the walls of the town, two travellers knocked at the 
 gate for admittance. 
 
 One of them gave a name which created quite a commo- 
 tion in the village, all seeming eager to receive the owner 
 with t-'ome show of hospitality. 
 
 The merchants sat up to a late hour in company with 
 these strangers and the sheik of the place. Kids were caught 
 and killed, and a savory stew was soon served up for their 
 guests, while, with cofiee, pipes, and many customary civili- 
 ties, the time slipped quickly by. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, they were astir upon the following 
 morning before daybreak, busied in making preparations for 
 their journey. 
 
 The slaves, on being allowed some breakfast, were com- 
 manded to eat it in all haste, and then assist in preparing 
 the animals for the road. 
 
 They were also informed that they were to be taken south, 
 and sold. 
 
 " Shall we go, or die ? " asked Colin. " I, for one, had 
 rather die than again pass through the hardships of a jour- 
 ney in the desert." 
 
 Neither of the others made any reply to this. The spirit 
 vf despair had taken too strong a hold upon them. 
 
EL HAJJI. *J 3 
 
 The mercLants themselves were obliged ta caparison their 
 (tnimals ; and just as they were about to use some strong 
 arguments to induce their refractory slaves to mount, they 
 were told that " El Hajji " (" the pilgrim ") wished to see 
 the Cliristians. 
 
 Soon after, one of the strangers who had entered the town 
 so late on the night before was seen slowly approaching. 
 
 He was a tall, venerable-looking Arab, with a long white 
 beard reaching down to the middle of his breast. His cos- 
 tume, by its neatness and the general costliness of the arti- 
 cles of which it was composed, bespoke him a man of the 
 better class, and his bearing was nowise inferior to his guise. 
 
 Having performed the pilgrimage to the Prophet's Tomb, 
 ne commanded the respect and hospitality of all good Mus- 
 sulmans whithersoever he wandered. 
 
 With the Krooman as interpreter, he asked many ques- 
 tions, and seemed to be much interested in the fate of the 
 miserable-looking objects before him. 
 
 After his curiosity had been satisfied as to the name of 
 the vessel in which they had reached the country, the time 
 they had passed in slavery, and the manner of their treat- 
 ment which had produced their emaciated and wretched 
 appearance, he made inquiries about their friends and rela- 
 tives at home. 
 
 Harry informed him that Colin and himself had parents, 
 brothers, and sisters, who were now probably mourning 
 them as lost : that they and their two companions were sure 
 to be ransomed, could they find some one who would take 
 them to Mogadon He also added, that their present mas- 
 ters had promised to take them to that place, but were now 
 prevented from doing so through the fear that they (vould 
 not be rewarded for their trouble. 
 
 " I will do all I can to assist you," said El Hajji, after the 
 Krooman had given the interpretation of Harry's speech. 
 " I owe a debt of gratitude to one of your countrymen, ap<? 
 
ZdA THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 I shaL try to repay it. When in Cairo I was unwell, and 
 starving for the want of food. An officer of an EngUsh ship 
 of war gave me a coin of gold. That piece of money proved 
 >-cth life and fortune to me; for with it I was able to con- 
 t-nue my journey, and reach ray friends. "We are all the 
 Ciiildren of the true God ; and it is our duty to assist one 
 another. I will have a talk with your masters." 
 
 The old pilgrim then turning to the three merchants, 
 eaid, — 
 
 *' My friends, you have promised to take these Christian 
 slaves to Swearah, where they will be redeemed. Are you 
 bad men who fear not God, that your promise should be 
 thus broken ? " 
 
 " We think they have deceived us," answered one of the 
 merchants, " and we are afraid to carry them within the 
 emperor's dominions for fear they will be taken from us 
 without our receiving anything. We are poor men, and 
 nearly all our merchandise we have given for these slaves. 
 We cannot afford to lose them. 
 
 " You will not lose the value of them," said the old man, 
 " if you take them to Swearah. They belong to a country 
 the government of which will not allow its subjects to re- 
 main in bondage ; and there is not an English merchant m 
 Swearah that would not redeem them. A merchant who 
 should refuse to do so would scarce dare return to his owa 
 country again. You will make more by taking them lo 
 Swearah than anywhere else." 
 
 " But they can give themselves up to the governor when 
 they reach Swearah," urged one of the merchants, " and we 
 may be ordered out of the country without receiving a sin- 
 gle cowrie for all. Such has been done before. The good 
 sheik here knows of an Arab merchant who was treated so. 
 He bst all, while the governor got the ransom, and put it in 
 his own pocket." 
 
 This was an argument El Hajji was unable to answer 
 
EL HAJJI. 295 
 
 but bo was not long In finding a plan for removing the ilifDr 
 culty thus presented. 
 
 " Do not take them within the Empire of Moiocco," said 
 he, " until after you have been paid for them. Two of yoa 
 can stay with them here, while the other goes to Sweai-ah 
 with a letter from this young man to his friends. You have 
 as yet no proof that he is trying to deceive you ; and the/e- 
 fore, as true men, have no excuse for breaking your promise 
 to him. Take a letter to Swearah ; and if the money be 
 not paid, then do with them as you please, and the ■wrong 
 will not rest upon you." 
 
 Bo Muzem, one of the merchants, immediately seconded 
 the pilgrim's proposal, and spoke energetically in its favor. 
 
 lie said that they were but one day's journey from Aga- 
 deez, a frontier town of Morocco ; and that from there 
 Swearah could be reached in three days. 
 
 The merchants for a few minutes held consultation 
 apart, and then one of them announced that they had 
 resolved upon following El Hajji's advice. Bo Muzem 
 should go to Swearah as the bearer of a letter from Harry 
 to his uncle. 
 
 "Tell the young man," said one of the merchants, ad- 
 dressing himself to the interpreter, " tell him, from me, that 
 if the ransom be not paid, he shall surely die on Bo Muzem'a 
 return. Tell him that." 
 
 The Krooman made the communication, and Harry ac- 
 cepted th6 terms. 
 
 A piece of dirty crumpled paper, a reed, and some ink 
 was then placed before Harry ; and while the letter was be- 
 ing written. Bo Muzem commenced making preparations for 
 his journey. 
 
 Knowing that their only hope of liberty depended on 
 their situation being made known to some countrymen resi- 
 dent in Mogador, Harry took up the pen, and, with much 
 difficulty, succeeded in scribbling the following letter : — 
 
296 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 •' Sir, — Two midshipmen of H. M. S. (lost a fe^ 
 
 weeks ago north of Cape Blanco), and twc seamen are novi 
 held in slavery at a small town one day's journey from 
 Santa Cruz. The bearer of this note is one of our master? 
 His business in Mogador is to learn if we will be ransomed- 
 and if he is unsuccessful in finding any one who will pay the 
 money to redeem us, the writer of this note is to be killed 
 If you cannot or will not pay the money they require (one 
 hundred and fifty dollars for each slave), direct the bearer 
 to some one whom you think will do so. 
 
 " There is a midshipman from the same vessel, and an- 
 other English sailor one day's journey south of this place. 
 
 « Perhaps the bearer of this note, Bo IMuzem, may be in- 
 duced to obtain them, so that they also may be ransomed. 
 
 "Henry Blount." 
 
 This letter Harry folded, and directed to " Any English 
 merchant in Mogador." 
 
 By the time it was written. Bo Muzem was mounted, and 
 ready for the road. 
 
 After receiving the letter, he wished Harry to be informed 
 once more, that, should the journey to Svvearah be fruitless, 
 nothing but his (Harry's) life would compensate liim for the 
 disappointment. 
 
 After promising to be back in eight days, and enjoining 
 upon his partners to look well after their property during 
 his absence, Bo Muzem took his departure from the towru 
 
BO >IUZEM'S JOURNEY. 297 
 
 CHAPTEK LXXVIII. 
 
 BO MUZEJi's JOUKNET. 
 
 ALTHOUGH an Arab merchant, Bo Muzem was an 
 honest man, — one who in all business transaction? 
 told the truth, and expected to hear it from others. 
 
 lie pursued his journey towards Mogndor with but a faint 
 hope that the representations made by Harry Blount would 
 prove true, and with the determination of taking the life of 
 the latter, should he find himself deceived. He placed 
 more faith in the story told him by the sheik, than in the 
 mere supposition of the pilgrim, that the white slaves would 
 find some one to ransom them. For often, — alas too 
 often ! — the hopes which captives have dwelt on for tedioua 
 months, until they have believed them true, have proved, 
 when put to the test, but empty and follacious dreams. 
 
 His journey was partly undertaken through a sense of 
 d;ity. After the promise made to the slaves, he thought it 
 but riglit to become fully convinced that they would not be 
 redeemed before the idea of taking them to Mogador should 
 be relinquished. 
 
 He pressed forward on his journey with the perseverance 
 and self-denial so peculiar to the race. After crossing the 
 Bpurs of the Atlas Mountain near Santa Cruz, he reached, 
 on the evening of the third day, a small walled town, within 
 three hours ride of Mogador. 
 
 Here he stopped for the night, intending to proceed to 
 the city early on the next morning. Immediately after en- 
 tering the town, Bo Muzem met a person whose face wore 
 a familiar look. 
 
 It was the man to whom but a fev/ days before, he had 
 Bold Terence and Jim. 
 
 "Ah! my friend, you have ruined me," exclaimed th« 
 13* 
 
298 THE BOY SLAVES- 
 
 Arab grazier, after their first salutations had passed. "1 
 have lost those two useless Christian dogs you sold me, and 
 I am ruined." 
 
 Bo INIuzeni asked him to explain. 
 
 " After your departure," said the grazier, " I tried to get 
 some work out of the infidels ; but they would not obey, and 
 T believe they would have died before doing anything to 
 make themselves useful. As I am a poor man, I could not 
 afford to keep them in idleness, nor to kill them, which I 
 had a strong inclination to do. The day after you left me, 
 I received intelligence from Swearah which commanded me 
 to go there immediately on business of importance ; and 
 thinking that possibly some Christian fool in that place might 
 give sonieihing for their infidel countrymen, I took the slaves 
 alon-g with me. 
 
 " They promised that if I would take them to the Eng- 
 lish Consul, he would pay a large price for their ransom. 
 When we entered Mogador, and reached the Consul's house, 
 the dogs told me that they were free, and defied me trying 
 to take them out of the city, or obtaining anything for my 
 trouble or expense. The governor of Swearah and the Em- 
 peror of Morocco are on good terms with the infidel's gov- 
 ernment, and they also hate us Arabs of the desert. There 
 is no justice there for us. If you take your slaves into the 
 city you wUl lose them." 
 
 " I shall not take them into the empire of Morocco," said 
 Bo Muzem, "until I have first received the money for 
 them." 
 
 " You will never get it in Swearah. Their consul will not 
 pay a dollar, but will try to get them liberated without giv- 
 i\g you anytliing." 
 
 ** But 1 iiave a letter from one of my slaves to his uncle, 
 — a nut merchant in Swearah. The uncle must pay the 
 money." 
 
 *' The slave has lied to you. He has no uncle there, and 
 
»0 MUZEM'S JOUKNEY. 299 
 
 I can soon convince you that such is the casfc> There is 
 lying in this place a Mogador Jew, who is acquainted with 
 every infidel merchant in that place, and he also understands 
 the languages they speak. Let him see the letter." 
 
 Anxious to be convinced as to whether he was being de- 
 ceived or not, Bo Muzem readily agreed to this proposition ; 
 and in company with the graziers, he repaired to the house 
 where the Jew was staying for t!ie night. 
 
 The Jew, on being shown the letter, and asked to whom 
 it was addressed, replied. — 
 
 "To any English merchant in Mogador." 
 
 " Bismillah ! " exclaimed Bo Muzem. " All English 
 merchants cannot be uncles to the young dog who wrote tin's 
 letter." 
 
 " Tell me," added he, " did you ever hear of an English 
 merchant in Swearah named ' For God sake byas?' " 
 
 The Jew smiled, and with some difficulty restraining an in- 
 clination to laugh outright at the question, gave the Ai-ab a 
 translation of the words, " For God's sake buy us." 
 
 Bo Muzem was now satisfied that he had been " sold." 
 
 " I shall go no farther," said he, after they had parted 
 with the Jew. " I shall return to my partners. We will 
 kill the Christian dog who wrote the letter, and sell the rest 
 for what we can get for tliera." 
 
 " That is your best plan," rejoined the grazier. " They 
 do not deserve freedom, and may Allah forbid that hereafter 
 any true believers should try to help them to it." 
 
 Early the next morning Bo IMuzem set out on his return 
 journey, thankful for the good fortune that had enabled him 
 so early to detect the imposture that was being practised 
 upon him. 
 
 He was accompanied by the grazier, who chanced to be 
 journeying in the same direction. 
 
 " The next Christian slave?5 I see for sale I intend to buy 
 iliem," remarked the latter, as they journey(;d alon^. 
 
800 THE BOY SLAVES 
 
 « Bismallali ! " exclaimed Bo Muzem, " that is stranga 
 I thought you had had ent^gh of them ? " 
 
 " So I have," answered the grazier ; " but that 's just why 
 I want more of them. I want revenge on the unbelieving 
 dogs ; and will buy them for the purpose of obtaining it. I 
 work them until they are too old to do anything, and then 
 let them die of hunger." 
 
 " Then buy those we have for sale," proposed Bo Muzem. 
 We are willing to sell them clieap, all but one. The one 
 who wrote this letter I shall kill. I have sworn it by the 
 prophet's beard." 
 
 As both parties appeared anxious for a bargain, they soon 
 came to an understanding as to the terms ; and the grazier 
 promised to give ten dollars in money, and four head of 
 torses for each of the slaves that were for sale. He also 
 agreed that one of his herdsmen should assist in driving the 
 cattle to any Arab settlement where a market might be 
 found for them. 
 
 The simple Bo Muzem had now in reality been " sold," 
 for the story he had been told about the escape of the two 
 slaves, Terence and Jim, was wholly and entirely false. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIX 
 
 RAIS MODRAD. 
 
 SIX days i)assed, during which the white slaves were 
 comparatively well treated, far better than at any otlier 
 time since their shipwreck. They were not allowed to suffer 
 with tliirst, and were supplied with nearly as much food as 
 they required. 
 
 On the sixth day after the departure of Bo Muzem, tbej 
 
RAIS MOURAD. 801 
 
 were visited by their masters, accompanied by a stranger 
 who was a Moor. 
 
 They were commanded to get upon their feet and were 
 then examined by the Moor in a manner that awakened 
 suspicion that he was about to buy them. 
 
 The Moor wore a caftan richly Sinbroidered on the breast 
 and sleeves ; and confined around the waist with a silken 
 vest or girdle. 
 
 A pair of small yellow Morocco-leather boots were seen 
 beneath trowsers of great width, made of the finest satin, 
 and on his head was worn a turban of scarlet sUk. 
 
 Judging from the respect shown to him by the merchants, 
 he was an individual of much importance. This was also 
 evident from the number of his followers, all of whom were 
 mounted on beautiful Arabian horses, the trappings of 
 which were made from the finest and most delicately shaded 
 leathers, bestudded beautifully with precious metals and 
 stones. 
 
 The appearance of his whole retinue gave evidence that 
 he was some personage of wealth and influence. 
 
 After he had examined the slaves, he retired with the two 
 merchants ; and shortly afterwards the Krooman learnt from 
 one of the followers that the white slaves had become the 
 property of the wealthy Moor. 
 
 The bright anticipations of liberty that had filled their 
 souls for the last few days, vanished at this intelligence. 
 Each felt a shock of pain, — of hopeless despair, — that for 
 some moments stunned them almost to speechlessness. 
 
 Harry Blount was the first to awaken to the necessity of 
 action. 
 
 " Where are our masters the merchants ? " he exclaimed. 
 " They cannot — they shall not sell us. Come, all of you 
 follow me ! " 
 
 Reaching forth from the pens that had been allowed them 
 for a residence, the young Englishman, followed by ! is com 
 
802 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 panions, started towards the dwelling of the sheik, to whicli 
 the merchants and the IMoor had retired. 
 
 All were now excited with disappointment and despair; 
 and on reaching the sheik's house, the two Arab merchants 
 were called out to witness a scene of anger and grief 
 
 " Why have you sold us ? " asked the Krooman when the 
 merchant came forth. " Have you not promised that we 
 should be taken to Swearah, and has not one gone there to 
 obtain the money for our ransom ? " 
 
 The merchants were on good terms with themselves and 
 all the world besides. They had made what they believed 
 to be a good bargain ; and were in a humor for being agree- 
 able. 
 
 Moreover they did not wish to be thought guilty of a 
 wrong, even by Christian slaves, and they therefore conde- 
 scended to give some explanation. 
 
 " Suppose," said one of them, " that our master Bo Muzem 
 should find a man in Swearah who is willing to ransom you, 
 how much are we to get for you?" 
 
 " One hundred dollars for me," answered the Krooman, 
 " and one hundred and fifty for each of the others." 
 
 " True ; and for that we should have to take you to 
 Swearah, and be at the expense of feeding you along the 
 road?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Well, Rais Mourad, a wealthy Moor, has paid us one 
 hundred and fifty dollars for each of you ; and would we not 
 be fools to take you all the way to Swearah for less money ? 
 Besides we miglit never get paid at Swearah, — whereas we 
 Lave received it in cash from Rais Mourad. You are no 
 longer our slaves, but his." 
 
 When tlie Krooman had made this communication to the 
 others, tliey saw that all further parley with the Arab mer- 
 chants was useleos ; and that their fate was now in the handi 
 oi" Rais Moura^l. 
 
RAIS MOU^AD. 303 
 
 At Harry's request, the Krooman endeavored to ascertain 
 in what direction the Moor was going to take tliem ; but the 
 only information they received was that Rais Mourad knew 
 his own business, and was not in the habit of conferring with 
 his slaves as to what he should do with them. 
 
 Some of the followers of the Moor now came forward ; 
 and the slaves were ordered back to their pen, where they 
 found some food awaiting- them. They were commanded to 
 eat it immediately, as they were soon to set forth upon a 
 long journey. 
 
 Not one of them, aftei their cruel disappointment, had 
 any appetite for eating ; and Sailor Bill doggedly declared 
 that he would never ta>te food again. 
 
 " Don't despair, Bill," said Harry ; " there is yet hope 
 for us." 
 
 " Where ? — where i.-5 it ? " exclaimed Colin ; " I can 't 
 perceive it." 
 
 " If we are constantly changing ow^ners," argued Harry, 
 ' we may yet fall into the hands of some one who will take 
 as to Mogador." 
 
 " Is that your only hope ? " asked Colin, in a tone of dis- 
 ftppointment. 
 
 " Think of poor Jim," added Bill ; he 's 'ad fifty masters, 
 — been ten years in slavery, and not free yet ; and no hope 
 Ml it neyther." 
 
 " Shall we go quietly with our new master ? " asked 
 Colin. 
 
 " Yes," answered Harry ; " I have had quite enough of 
 resistance, and the beating that is sure to follow it. My 
 back is raw at this moment. The next time I malve any 
 resistance, it shall be when there is a chance of gaining 
 lomelhing by it, besides a sound thrashing." 
 
 Rias Mourad being unprovided with animals for his slaves 
 io ride upon, and wishing to travel at a greater speed thau 
 they could walk, purchased four small hcrses from the sheik 
 
804 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 «nd it was during the time these horses were being ca ight 
 and made ready for the road, that the slaves were allowed 
 to eat their dinner. 
 
 Although Harry, as well as the others, had determined 
 on making no opposition to going away with Rias Mourad, 
 they were very anxious to learn where he intended to take 
 them. 
 
 All the inquiries made by the Krooman for the purpose 
 of gratifying their curiosity, only produced the answer, 
 « God knows, and will not tell you. Why should we do more 
 than Him ? " 
 
 Just as the horses were brought out, and all were nearly 
 ready for a start, there was heard a commotion at the gate 
 of the town ; and next moment Bo ]\Iuzem, accompanied by 
 three other Arabs, rode in through the gateway. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX. 
 
 BO MUZEM BACK AGAIN. 
 
 AS soon as the white slaves recognized Bo Muzem, tliey 
 all rushed forward to meet him. 
 
 " Speak, Krooman ! " exclaimed Harry. *' Ask him if the 
 money for our ransom will he paid ? If so, we are free, and 
 they dare not sell us again." 
 
 " Here, — here ! " exclaimed Bill, pointing to one of the 
 Arabs who came with Bo Muzem. " Ax this man where 
 be brother Jim an' Master Terence ?" 
 
 Harry and Colin turned towards the man from whom Bill 
 desired this inquiry to be made, and recognized in him the 
 grazier, to whom Terence and Jim had been sold. 
 
 The Krooman had no opportunity for putting the ques- 
 
BO MUZEM BACK AGAIN. 80« 
 
 iaon ; for Bo Muzem, on dra^ving near to the gate of the 
 town, had allowed his passion to mount into a violent rage ; 
 and as he beheld the slaves, shouted out, " Christian dogs 1 
 you have deceived me. Let every man, woman, and child, 
 in this town assemble, and be witnesses of the fate that this 
 lying Christian so richly deserves. Lst all witness the death 
 of this young infidel, who has falsely declared he has an 
 uncle in Swearah, named ' For God's sake buy us.' Let all 
 witness the revenge Bo Muzem will take on the unbelieving 
 dog Avho has deceived him." 
 
 As soon as Bo Muzem's tongue was stopped sufficiently 
 to enable him to hear the voices of those around him, he 
 was informed that the slaves were all sold, — the nephew 
 of " For God's sake buy us," among the rest, and on better 
 terms than he and his partners had expected to get at 
 Swearah. 
 
 Had Harry Blount been rescued. Bo Muzem would have 
 been much pleased at this news ; but he now declared that 
 his partners had no right to sell without his concurrence, — 
 that he owned an interest in them ; and that the one who 
 had deceived him should not be sold, but should suffer the 
 penalty incurred, by sending him on his long and fruitless 
 journey. 
 
 Rais Mourad now came upon the ground. The Moor was 
 not long in comprehending all the circumstances connected 
 ?7ith the afHiir. He ordered his followers to gather around 
 Ahe whiie slaves and escort them outside the walls of the town. 
 
 Bo ]\Iuzem attempted to prevent this order from being 
 executed. He was opposed by everybody, not only by the 
 Moor, but his own partners, as well as the sheik of the town, 
 who declared that there should be no blood spilled among 
 those partaking of his hospitality. 
 
 The slaves were mounted on the horses that had been 
 provided for them, and then conducted through the gateway 
 Heaving Bo JMuzem half frantic with impotent rage. 
 
 r 
 
806 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 There was but one man to sympathize with him in hit 
 disappointment, the grazier to whom Terence and Jim 
 had been sold, and who had made arrangements for the pur- 
 chase of the otliers. 
 
 Riding up to the Moor, tliis man declared that the slaves 
 were his property ; that he had purchased them the day be- 
 fore, and had given four horses and ten dollars in money for 
 each. 
 
 He loudly protested against being robbed of his property, 
 and declared that he would bring two hundred men, if nec- 
 essary, for the purpose of taking possession of his own. 
 
 Rais Mourad, paying no attention to this threat, gave or- 
 ders to his followers to move on ; and, although it was now 
 almost night, started off in the direction of Santa Cruz. 
 
 Before they had proceeded far, they perceived the Arab 
 grazier riding at full speed in the opposite direction, and to- 
 wards his own home. 
 
 " I wish that we had made some inquiries of that fellow 
 about Jim and Terence," said Colin; "but it's too late 
 now." 
 
 " Yes, too late," echoed Harry, " and I wish that he had 
 obtained possession of us instead of our present master. We 
 should then have all come together again. But what are 
 we to think of this last turn of Fortune's wheel ? " 
 
 " I am rather pleased at it," answered Colin. " A while 
 ago we were in despair, because the IMoor had bought us. 
 That was a mistake. If he had not done so, you Harry 
 would have been killed." 
 
 " Bill ! " added the young Scotchman, turning to the old 
 Bailor, " what are you dreaming about ? " 
 
 "Nothing," answered Bill, "I'm no goin to drame or 
 think any mair." 
 
 " We ah gwine straight for Swearah," observed the Kroo* 
 man as he spoke, glancing towards the northwest 
 
 " That is true," exclaimed Harry, looking in the same d> 
 
BO MUZEM BACK AGAIN. 307 
 
 reo.tion. " Can it be that we are to be taken into the em- 
 pire of Morocco? If so, tliere is hope for us yet/' 
 
 " But Bo Muzem could find no one who would pay iho 
 money for our ransom," interposed Colin. 
 
 " He nebba go thar," said the Krooman. " He nebba 
 Lad de time." 
 
 " I believe the Krooman is right," said Harry. " "We 
 have been told that Mogador is four days' journey from here, 
 and the Arab was gone but six days." 
 
 The conversation of the slaves was interrupted by the 
 Moors, who kept constantly urging them to greater speed. 
 
 The night came on very dark, but Rais Mourad would 
 not allow them to move at a slower pace. 
 
 Sailor Bill, being as he declared unused to " navigate any 
 sort o' land craft," could only keep his seat on the animal 
 he bestrode, by allowing it to follow the others, while he 
 clutched its mane with a firm grasp of both hands. 
 
 The journey was continued until near midnight, when the 
 old sailor, unable any longer to endure the fatigue, managed 
 to check the pace of his horse, and dismount. 
 
 The Moors endeavored to make him proceed, but were 
 unsuccessful. 
 
 Bill declared that should he again be placed on the horse, 
 he should probably fall off and break his neck. 
 
 This was communicated to Rais Mourad, who had turned 
 back in a rage to inquire tlie cause of the delay. It was 
 the Krooman who acted as interpreter. 
 
 The Moor's anger immediately subsided on learning that 
 one of the slaves could speak Arabic. 
 
 " Do you and your companions wish for freedom ? " asked 
 the Moor, addressing himself to the Krooman. 
 
 " We pray for it every hour." 
 
 " Then tell that foolish man that freedom is not founil 
 here — that to obtain it he must move on with me." 
 
 The Krooman made the communication as desired. 
 
308 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 " I don't want to hear any more about freedom,' answered 
 Bill ; " I Ve 'eard enough ov it. If any on 'em is goin' to 
 giTB us a chiuica for liberty, let 'em do it without so many 
 promises." 
 
 The old sailor remained obstinate. 
 
 Neither entreaties nor threats could induce him to go 
 farther ; and Rais Mourad gave orders to his followers to 
 halt upon the spot, as he intended to stay there for the re- 
 mainder of the night. The halt was accordingly made, and 
 a temporary camp established. 
 
 Although exhausted with their long, rough ride, Harry 
 and Colin could not sleep. The hope of liberty was glowing 
 too brightly within their bosoms. 
 
 This hope had not been inspired by anything that had 
 been said or done by Rais Mourad ; for they now placed no 
 trust in the promises of any one. 
 
 Their hopes were simply based upon the belief that they 
 were now going towards Mogador, that the Moor, their mas- 
 ter, was an intelligent man — a man who might know that 
 he would not lose his money by taking English subjects to a 
 place where they would be sure of being ransomed. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXI. 
 
 A PURSUIT. 
 
 AT the first appearance of day, Rais Mourad ordered 
 the march to be resumed, over a long ridge of sand. 
 The sun soon after rising, on a high hill about four leagues 
 distant were seen the white walls of the city of Santa Cruz, 
 or, as it is called by the Arabs, Agadez. Descending tha 
 «and ridge, the cavaliade moved over a level plain covered 
 
A PURSUIT. 309 
 
 «ich grain crops, and dotted here and there with small walled 
 villagea surrounded by plantations of vines and date-trees. 
 
 At one of the villages near the road the cavalcade mad<» 
 a halt, and was admitted withm the walls. Throwing them 
 selves down in the shade of some date-trees, the white slaves 
 soon fell into a sound slumber. 
 
 Three hours after they were awakened to eat a small com- 
 pound of hot barley-cakes and honey. 
 
 Before they had finished their repast, Eais Mourad came 
 up to the spot, and began a conversation with the Krooman. 
 " What does the Moor say ? " inquired Harry. 
 " He say dat if we be no bad, and we no cheat him, he 
 take us to Sweareh, to de English Consul." 
 
 " Of course we will promise that, or anything else," as- 
 sented Harry, " and keep the promise too, if we can. He 
 will be sure to be well paid for us. Tell him that ! " 
 
 The Krooman obeyed : and the Moor, in reply, said that 
 he was well aware that he would be paid something by the 
 Consul, but that he required a written promise from the 
 slaves themselves as to the amount. 
 
 He wanted them to sign an agreement that he should be 
 paid two hundred dollars for each one of them. 
 
 This they readily assented to, and the Moor then pro- 
 duced a piece of paper, a reed, and some ink. 
 
 llais Mourad wrote the agi-eement himself in Arabic, on 
 one side of the paper, and then, reading it sentence by sen- 
 tence, requested the Krooman to translate it to his com- 
 panions. 
 
 The translation given by the Krooman was — 
 
 « To English Consul, — 
 
 " We be four Christian slave. Rais IMourad buy us of 
 Arab. We promise to gib him two hundred dollar for one, 
 or eight hundred dollar for four, if he take us to you. Pleafifl 
 pay him quick." 
 
810 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 Harry and Colin signed the paper without any hesitation! 
 and it was thou handed with t)ie pen to Sailer Bill. 
 
 The old sailor took the paper ; and, after carefully sur- 
 veying every object around him, walked up to one of the 
 saddles lying on the ground a few paces off. 
 
 Spreading the paper on the saddle, he sat down, and very 
 delibei-ately set about the task of making his autograph. 
 
 Slowly as the hand of a clock moving over the face of a 
 dial, Bill's hand passed over the paper, while his head oscil- 
 lated from side to side as each letter was formed. 
 
 After Bill had succeeded in painting a few characters 
 which, in his opinion, expressed the name of William Mo 
 Neal, Harry was requested to write a similar agi'eement ojf 
 the other side of the paper, which they wei-e also to sign. 
 
 Rais Mourad was determined on being certain that his 
 slaves had put their names to such an agreement as he 
 wished, and therefore had written it himself, so that he 
 might not be deceived. 
 
 About two hours before sunset all were again in the sad- 
 dle ; and, riding out of the gateway, took a path leading up 
 the mountain on which stands the city of Santa Cruz. 
 
 When about half-way up, a party of horsemen, between 
 twenty and thirty in number, was seen coming after them at 
 full speed. 
 
 Rais Mourad remembered the threat made by the grazier 
 who claimed the slaves as his property, and every exertion 
 was made to reach the city before his party could be over 
 taken. 
 
 The horses ridden by the white slaves were small ani. 
 n)als, in poor condition, and were unable to move up the 
 hill with much speed, although their ridors had been reduced 
 by starvation to the very lightest of weights. 
 
 Before reaching tlie level i)lain on the top of the hill, the 
 pursuers gained on them rapidly, and had lessened the dis- 
 tance between the two parties by nearly half a mile. The 
 
A PURSUIT. 311 
 
 ftearust gate of the city was still more than a mile ahead, 
 and towards it the Moors urq;ed tlieir horses with all the 
 energy that could be insjiired by oaths, kicks, and blows. 
 
 As they neared the gate the herds of their pursuers were 
 Been just rising over the crest of the hill behind them. But 
 as Rais Mourad saw that his slaves were now safe, he 
 checked his steed, and the few yards that remained of the 
 journey were performed at a slow pace, for the IMoor did not 
 wish to enter the gate of a strange city in a hasty or undig- 
 nified manner. 
 
 No delay on passing the sentinels, and in five minutes 
 more the weary slaves dismounted from their nearly ex- 
 hausted steeds, and were commanded by Rais Mourad to 
 thank God that they had arrived safe in the Empire of 
 Morocco. 
 
 In less than a quarter of an hour after Bo Muzem and 
 the grazier rode through the gateway, accompanied by a 
 troop of fierce-looking Arab horsemen. 
 
 The wrath of the merchant seemed to have waxed greater 
 in the interval, and he appeared as if about to make an im- 
 mediate attack upon Harry Blount, the chief object of his 
 spiteful vengeance. 
 
 In this he was prevented by Rais Mourad, who appealed 
 to an officer of the city guard to protect him. 
 
 The officer informed the merchant that while within the 
 v/alls of the city he must not molest other people, and Bo 
 Muzem was compelled to give his word that he would not 
 do so : that is to say, he was bound over to keep the peace. 
 
 The other Arabs, in wliose company they had come, were 
 also given to understand that they were in a Moorish city , 
 and, as they saw that they were powerless to do harm with- 
 out meeting with punisliment, their fierce deportment soon 
 gave way to a demeanor more befitting the streets of a 
 civilized town. 
 
 Both pursued and ptirsuers were cautioned againuf any 
 
812 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 infringement of the laws of the place ; and as a different quai"' 
 ter was assigned to each party, all chances of a conllict were 
 for the time, happily frustrated. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXII. 
 
 MOORISH JUSTICE. 
 
 rriHE next morning, Rais Monrad was summoned to 
 ■ appear before the governor of the city. He was or- 
 dered, also, to bring his slaves along with him. He had no 
 reluctance in obeying these orders, and a soldier conducted 
 him and his followers to the governor's house. 
 
 Bo Muzem and the grazier were there before them ; and 
 the governor soon after made his appearance in the room 
 where botli parlies were waiting. 
 
 He was a fine-looking man, of venerable aspect, about six- 
 ty-five years of age, and, from his appearance, Harry and 
 Colin had but little fear of the result of his decision in an 
 appeal that might be made against them. 
 
 Bo Muzem was the first to speak. He stated that, in 
 partnership with two other merchants, he had purchased the 
 four slaves then present. He had never given his consent 
 to the sale made by his partners to the Moor ; and there 
 was one of them whom it had been distinctly understood 
 was not to be sold at all. That slave lie now claimed as his 
 own projierty. He had been commissioned by his pai-tners 
 to go to Swearah, and there dispose of the slaves. He had 
 sold the other two to his friend Mahommed, who was pres. 
 ent. He had no claim on them. Mahommed, the grazier 
 was their present owner. 
 
 The grazier was now called upon to make his statement. 
 
MOORISH JUSTICK 313 
 
 This was soon done. All he had to say was, thr.t he had 
 purchased three Christian slaves from his friend, Bo Muzem, 
 and had given four horses and ten dollars in money for each 
 of them. They had heen taken away by force by the Moor, 
 Rais Monrad, fi-om whom he now claimed them. 
 
 Ilais Monrad was next called upon to answer the accusa- 
 tion. The question was put, why he retained possession of 
 another man's property. 
 
 In reply, he stated that he had purchased them of two 
 Arab merchants, and had paid for them on the spot ; giving 
 one hundred and filty silver dollars for each. 
 
 After the Moor had finished his statement, the governor 
 remained silent for an interval of two or three minutes. 
 
 Presently, turning to Bo Muzem, he asked, " Did your 
 partners offer you a share of the money they received for 
 the slaves ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the merchant, " but I would not accept 
 it." 
 
 " Have you, or your partners, received from the man, who 
 clain^.s three of the slaves, twelve horses and thirty dol- 
 lars ? " 
 
 After some hesitation, Bo Muzem answered in the nega- 
 tive. 
 
 '' The slaves belong to the Moor, Rais Mourad, who has 
 paid the money for them," said the governor, " and they shall 
 not ]»e taken liom him here. Depart from my presence, all 
 of you." 
 
 All retired, and, as they did so, the grazier was heard to 
 rauiter that there was no justice for Arabs in Morocco. 
 
 Ilais Mourad gave orders to his followers to prepare for 
 the road ; and just as they were ready to start, he request- 
 ed Bo Muzem to accompany him outside the walls of the 
 city. 
 
 The merchant consented, on condition that his friend Ma- 
 hommed the grazier should go along with them. 
 14 
 
814 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 " My friend," said Rais Mourad, addressing Bo IMuzem, 
 ** you have been deceived. Had you taken these Christiana 
 to Swearah, as you promised, you would have certainly been 
 paid for them all that you could reasonably have asked, i 
 live in Swearah, and was obliged to make a journej^ to the 
 south upon urgent business. Fortunately, on my return, I 
 met with your partners, and bought their slaves from them. 
 The profit I shall make on them will more than repay me 
 all the expenses of my journey. Tiie man Mahommed, 
 whom you call your friend, has bought two other Christians. 
 He has sold them to the English Consul. Having made 
 two hundred dollars by that transaction, he was anxious to 
 trade you out of these others, and make a few hundred more. 
 He was deceiving you for the pur[)ose of obtaining them. 
 There is but one God, Mahomet is his prophet, and you are 
 a fool ! " 
 
 Bo Muzem required no further evidence in confirmation 
 of the truth of this statement. He could not doubt that the 
 Moor was an intelligent man, who knew what he was about 
 when buying the slaves. The grazier Mahommed had cer- 
 tainly purchased the two slaves spoken of, had acknowledged 
 having carried them to Swearah, and was now anxious to 
 obtain the others. 
 
 All was clear to him now ; and for a moment he stood 
 mute and motionless, under a sense of shame at his own 
 stupidity. 
 
 This feeling was succeeded by one of wild rage against 
 the man who had so craftily outwitted him. 
 
 Drawing his scimitar, he rushed towards the grazier, who, 
 having been attentive to all that was said, was not wholly 
 nnpiepared for the attack. 
 
 The Arabs never acquire much skill in the use of the 
 Bcimitar, and an afiair between them with these weapons is 
 loon decided. 
 
 The contest between the merchant and his antagonist wai 
 
MOORISn JUSTICE. 315 
 
 not an exception to other affrays between their countrymen. 
 It was a strife for hfo or death, witnessed by the slaves who 
 felt no sympathy for either of the combatants. 
 
 A mussulman in a quarrel genonilly places more depend- 
 ence on the justice of his cause than either on his strength 
 or skill ; and when such is not the case much of his natural 
 prowess is lost to him. 
 
 Confident in the rectitude of his indignation, Bo Mnzem, 
 with his Mohammedan ideas of fatalism, was certain that 
 the hour had not yet arrived for him to die ; nor was he 
 mistaken. 
 
 His impetuous onset could not be resisted by a man un- 
 fortified with the belief that he had acted justly: and Ma- 
 hommed the grazier was soon sent to the ground, rolling in 
 the dust in the agonies of death. 
 
 " There 's one less on 'em anyhow," exclaimed Sailor Bill, 
 as he saw the Arab cease to live. " I wish he had brought 
 brother Jem and Master Terence here. I wonder what he 
 has done wi' 'em ? " 
 
 " We should learn, if possible," answered Harry, " and be- 
 fore we get any farther away from them. Suppose we 
 Bpeak to the Moor about them ? He may be able to obtain 
 them in some way." 
 
 At Harry's request, the Krooman proceeded to make the 
 desired communication, but was prevented by Rais Mourad 
 ordering the slaves into their places for the purpose of 
 continuing the journey which this tragic incident had inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 After cautioning Bo Muzem to beware of the followers 
 of Mahcmmed, who now \kj dead at their feet, the Moor, 
 at the head of his kafila, moved off in the direr 'ion of Mo« 
 gador. 
 
816 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIII. 
 
 THE Jew's leap. 
 
 THE road followed by Rai" Mourad on the day aflef 
 leaving Santa Cruz was through a country of very 
 uneven surface. 
 
 Part of the time the kaiila would be in a narrow valley 
 by the sea-shore, and in the next hour following a zigzag 
 path on the side of some precipitous mountain. 
 
 In such places the kafila would have to proceed in single 
 file, while the Moors would be constantly cautioning the 
 slaves against Mling from the backs of their animals. 
 
 Wliile stopping for an hour at noon for the horses to rest, 
 the Krooman tm-ned over a fiat stone, and underneath it 
 found a laige scorpion. 
 
 After making a hole in the sand about six inches deep, 
 and five or six in diameter, he put the reptile into it. 
 
 He then went in search of a few more scorpions to keep 
 the prisoner company. Under nearly every stone he turned 
 over, one or two of these reptiles were found, all of which 
 were cast into the hole where he had placed the first. 
 
 When he had secured about a dozen within the prison from 
 which they could not escape, he began teasing them with a 
 stick. 
 
 Enraged at this treatment the reptiles commenced a mor- 
 tal combat among themselves, a sight which was witnes^sed 
 by the white slaves with about the same interest as tliat be- 
 tween the two Arali s in the morning. In other words, they 
 did not care which got the worst of it. 
 
 A battle between two scorpions would commence with 
 much active skirmishing on both sides, each seeking to fasten 
 its claws on the other. 
 
 Wlaen one of the reptiles would succeed in getting a fail 
 
THE JEW'S LEAP. 317 
 
 grip, its adversary would exhibit every disposition to surren- 
 der, apparently begging for its life, but all to no purjjose, as 
 no quarter would be given. 
 
 The champion would inflict the fatal sting; and the 
 unfortunate reptile receiving it would die immediately 
 after. 
 
 After all the scorpions had been killed except one, the 
 Krooman himself finished the survivor with a blow of his 
 stick. 
 
 When rebuked by Harry for what the latter regarded as 
 an act of wanton cruelty, he answered that it was the duty 
 of every man to kill scorpions. 
 
 In the afternoon they reached a place called the Jew's 
 Leap. It was a narrow path along the side of a mountain, 
 the base of which was washed by tlie sea. 
 
 The path was about half a mile long and not more than 
 four or five feet broad. The right hand side was bounded 
 by a wall of rocks, in some places perpendicular and rising 
 to a height of several hundred feet. 
 
 On the left hand side was the sea, about four hundred feet 
 below the level of the path. 
 
 There was no hope for any one who should fall from this 
 path, — no hope but heaven. 
 
 Not a bush, tree, or any obstacle was seen to ofier the 
 slightest resistance to the downward course of a falling 
 body. 
 
 The Krooman had passed this way before, and informed 
 his companions that no one ever ventured on the path in 
 wet weather ; that it was at all times considered dangerous ; 
 but that, as it saved a tiresome journey of seven miles around 
 the mountain, it was generally taken in dry weather. He 
 also told them that the name of " Jew's Leap " was given 
 to the precipice, from a party of Jews having once been 
 forced over it. 
 
 It was in the night-time. They had met a numeroua 
 
818 THE BOi' SLAVES. 
 
 party of Moors coming m the opposite direction. Neither 
 party could turn back, a contest arose, and several on both 
 sides were hurled over the precipice into the sea. 
 
 On this occasion as many INIoors as Jews had been thrown 
 from the path ; but it had pleased the former to give the 
 spot the name of the " Jew's Leap," which it still bears. 
 
 Before venturing upon this dangerous road, Rais Mourad 
 was careful to see that no one was coming from the opposite 
 direction. 
 
 After shouting at the top of his voice, and hearing no 
 reply, he led the way, bidding his followers to trust more to 
 their animals than to themselves. 
 
 As the white slaves entered on the pass, two Moors were 
 left behind to follow them, and when all had proceeded a 
 abort distance along the ledge, the horse ridden by Harry 
 lilount became frightened. It was a young animal, and 
 having been reared on the plains of the desert, was unused 
 to mountain-road. 
 
 While the other horses were walking along very cau- 
 tiously, Harry's steed suddenly stopped, and refused to go 
 any farther. 
 
 In such a place a rider has good cause to be alarmed at 
 any eccentricity of behavior in the animal he bestrides, and 
 Harry was just preparing to dismount, when the animal 
 commenced making a retrogade movement, as if determined 
 to turn about. 
 
 Harry was behind his companions, and closely followed 
 by one of the Moors. The latter becoming alarmed for his 
 cwn safety, struck the young Englishman's horse a blow 
 with his musket to make it move forward. 
 
 The next instant the hind legs of the refractory animal 
 were over the edge of the precipice, and its body, with the 
 weight of its rider clinging to his neck, was about evenly 
 balanced as on the brink. The horse made a violent strug- 
 gle to avoid going over, with its nose and fore feet laid closf 
 
CONCLUSION. 819 
 
 along the path, and vainly striving to regain tho positioB 
 from vehich it had so imprudently parted. 
 
 At this moment its rider determined to make a desperate 
 exertion for liis life. 
 
 Seizing the horse by the ears, and drawing himself up, 
 he placed one foot on the brink of the precipice, and then 
 sprang clear over the horse's head, just as the animal relin- 
 quished its hold ! In another instant the unfortunate quad- 
 ruped was precipitated into the sea, its body striking the 
 water with a dull plunge, as if the life had ah-eady gone 
 out of it. 
 
 The remainder of the ledge was traversed without any 
 difficulty ; and after all had got safely over, Harry's com- 
 panions were loud hi congratulating him upon his narrow 
 escape. 
 
 The youth remained silent. 
 
 His soul was too full of gratitude to God to give any 
 heed to the words of man. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 ON the evening of the second day after passing thfl 
 Jew's Leap, Rais Mourad, with his following, reached 
 the city of IMogador ; but too late to enter its gates, which 
 were closed for the night. 
 
 For a great part of the night, Hany, Colin, and Sailor 
 Bill were unable to sleep. 
 
 They were kept awake by the memory of the sufTeringa 
 they had endured in slavery, but more by the anticip»tion 
 of liberty, which they beUeved to be now near. 
 
820 THE BOY SLAVES. 
 
 They arose with the sun call, impatient to enter the city, 
 and learn their fate. Rais Mourad, knowing that no busi- 
 ness could be done until three or four hours later, would not 
 permit them to pass into the gate. 
 
 For three hours they waited with the greatest impatience. 
 So strongly had their minds been elated with the prospect 
 of getting free, that the delay was creating the opposite ex- 
 treme of despair, when they were again elated at the sight 
 of Rais Mourad returning to them. 
 
 Giving the command to his followers, he led the way into 
 the city. 
 
 After passing through several narrow streets, on turning 
 a corner, tliey saw waving over the roof of one of the houses 
 a sight that filled them with joy inexpressible. It was the 
 flag of Old England ! 
 
 It indicated the residence of the English consul. Ou see- 
 ing it jdl three gave forth a loud simultaneous cheer, and 
 hastened forward, in the midst of a crowd of Moorish men, 
 women, and children. 
 
 Rais Mourad knocked at the gate of the consulate, which 
 was opened ; and the wliite slaves were ushered into the 
 courtryard. At the same instant two individuals came run- 
 ning forth from the house. They were Terence and Jim ! 
 
 A fine looking man about fifty years of age, now stepped 
 forward ; and taking Harry and Colin by the hand, congrat- 
 ulated them on the certainty of soon recovering their liberty. 
 
 The presence of Terence and Jim in the consulate at 
 Mogador, was soon explained. The Arab grazier, after buy- 
 ing them, had started immediately for Swcarah, taking his 
 slaves with him. On bringing them to the English consul 
 he was paid a ransom, and they were at once set free. At 
 the same time he had given his promise to purchase the 
 Other slaves and bring them to Mogador. 
 
 The consul made no hesitation in paying the price that 
 had been promised for Harry, Colin, and Bill ; but he did 
 
CONCLUSION. 321 
 
 not consider himself justified in expendiug the money of hifl 
 griverxijTient in the redemption of the Krooraan, who was 
 not ail English subject. 
 
 The poor fellow was overwhelmed with despair at the 
 prospect of being restored to a Hfe of slavery. 
 
 His old companions in misfortune could not remain tran- 
 qu'l spectators of his grief. They promised lie should be 
 free. Each of the middies had wealthy friends on whom he 
 could draw for money, and they were in hopes that some 
 English merchant in the city would advance the amount. 
 
 They were not disappointed. On the very next day the 
 Krooman's difficulty was settled to his satisfaction. 
 
 The consul having mentioned his case to several foreign 
 merchants, a subscription -list was opened, and the amount 
 necessary to the purchase of his freedom was easily ob- 
 tained. 
 
 The three mids were furnislied with plenty of everything 
 they required, and only waited the arrival of some English 
 ship to carry them back to the shores of then- native land. 
 
 They had not long to w^ait; for shortly after, the tall 
 masts of a British man-of-war threw theu* shadows athwart 
 the waters of Mogador Bay. 
 
 The three middies were once more installed in quarters 
 that befitted them: while Sailor Bill and his brother, aa 
 well as their Krooman comrade, found a welcome in the 
 forecastle of the man-of-wtir. 
 
 All three of the young officers rose to rank and distinc- 
 tion in the naval service of their country. It was their good 
 fortune often to come in contact with each other, and talk 
 l:\ughingly of that terrible time, no longer viewed with dread 
 or aversion, when all three of them were serving their ap* 
 prenticeship as Box Slaves m the Saara. 
 
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