The Pirate City: An Algerine Tale. Robert Michael Ballantyne
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from his men caused him to run to the forward part of the vessel, where Francisco, Lucien, and the warlike negro already referred to were still fighting desperately, surrounded by pirates, many of whom were badly wounded. It was well for the three heroes that their foes had discharged all their pistols at the first rush. Some of them, now rendered furious by the unexpectedly successful opposition made by the dauntless three, as well as by the smarting of their wounds, were hastily re-loading their weapons, when their captain came forward. It was obvious that mercy or forbearance had been driven from their breasts, and that a few seconds more would put a bloody end to the unequal contest.
“Spare them, Sidi Hassan,” said the Jew in a deeply earnest tone.
“Why should I spare them?” returned the captain quietly; “they deserve to die, and such men would prove to be but troublesome slaves.”
The Jew bent towards Hassan’s ear and whispered.
“Ha! sayest thou so?” exclaimed the pirate, with a piercing glance at his companion. “May I trust thee, Jew?”
“You may trust me,” replied the Jew, apparently quite unmoved by the insolent tones of the other.
“Stand back, men!” cried Hassan, springing between the combatants; “death by sword or pistol is too good for these Christian dogs; we shall reserve them for something better.” Then, turning to Francisco, “Lay down your arms.”
“We will lay down our arms,” answered the bluff merchant, who was not at all sorry to obtain this brief period of breathing-time, “when we have laid you and a few more of your ruffians on the deck.”
Hassan turned to his men and gave them an order in the Turkish language.
Several of them hurried aft, and immediately returned, dragging along with them poor Mariano, who was just recovering from the blow given to him by Bacri. On seeing the plight of his father and brother he made a desperate effort to free himself, but quickly found that he was as helpless as a child in the grasp of the three powerful men who held him.
Hassan drew a pistol and put its muzzle to the youth’s temple, then, turning to Francisco, said:—
“Lay down your arms, else I scatter his brains on the deck. Take your choice, but see that you be quick about it.”
There was that in the pirate captain’s tone and look which induced instant compliance. Francisco and his companions, at once laying down their weapons, were seized and had their arms pinioned. Mariano was also bound, and then their conquerors proceeded to clear the decks of the dead and wounded. This was soon accomplished; a prize crew was placed in the schooner; the captives, still pinioned, were transferred to the deck of the pirate-vessel, and there left to do as they pleased, while the captain and Bacri descended to the cabin.
Night soon after descended on the sea, the wind fell almost to a calm, the moon shone round and full in a cloudless sky, and the vessel glided quietly along, while the rascally crew lay conversing and smoking on her deck, many of them bearing marks of the recent conflict, and some sleeping as peacefully as though their hands were guiltless of shedding human blood, and legitimate trade their occupation.
Chapter Three.
Reveals something Surprising in Regard to European Forbearance And Piratic Impudence
Seated on a gun-carriage, apart from his comrades in sorrow, Francisco Rimini gazed in stern silence upon the moonlit sea, and thought, perchance, of the little old lady with the rippling mouth, and the dark-eyed daughter of his adoption.
“Your fate is a sad one,” said a deep voice close to his side.
Francisco started, and looked round with indignant surprise at Bacri.
“None the less sad that a friend has proved false, Jew,” he said sternly. “It has never been my custom to call any of your race ‘dog,’ as too many of my creed have done in time past, but I am tempted to change my custom this night.”
“To misname me would do you no good and me no harm,” replied the Jew gravely. “My race is an accursed one as far as man is concerned, but man’s curse is of no more value than his blessing.”
“If these arms were free, Bacri,” retorted Francisco hotly, “I would teach thee that which would prove anything but a blessing to thy carcase, thou huge caitiff! I had thought better of thee than thou didst deserve.—Go, thy bulky presence is distasteful.”
“Wherein have I wronged you?” asked the Jew.
“Wronged me!” exclaimed Francisco, with rising wrath, “art thou not hand and glove with the chief pirate? Thinkest thou that my eyes have lost their power of vision?”
“Truly I am acquainted with the corsair, though the acquaintance was none of my seeking,” returned the Jew, “for, as I said before, traders have dealings with many sorts of men; but I did not advise him to attack you, and I could not hinder him.”
“Scoundrel!” exclaimed the padrone, “couldst thou not restrain thine hand when it knocked the senses out of my boy Mariano? Wouldst have me believe that thy huge fists are not subject to thy villainous will, or that they acted as they did by mere accident, instead of aiding to repel the pirates?”
“I did it to save his life,” replied Bacri, “and not only his, but your own and the lives of all your men. I saw that Mariano was about to prevail, and if he had slain the corsair chief, not one of you would have been alive at this moment.”
Francisco’s wrath when roused was not readily appeased, nevertheless this statement puzzled him so much that he remained silently gazing at the Jew, from sheer inability to express his feelings.
“Listen,” continued Bacri, drawing nearer, and speaking in a lower tone, “the man into whose hands you have fallen is Sidi Hassan, one of the most noted and daring of the pirates on the Barbary coast. Escape from him is impossible. I know him well, and can assure you that your only hope of receiving anything that deserves the title of good treatment depends on your quiet and absolute subjection to his will. Rebellious or even independent bearing will insure your speedy and severe humiliation. We ‘dogs of Jews,’” continued Bacri, with a sad smile, “may seem to you to hang our heads rather low sometimes, but I have seen Christian men, as bold as you are, crawl upon the very dust before these Turks of Algiers.”
“Our fate, then,” said Francisco, “is, I suppose, and as I half suspected, to be slavery in that pirates’ nest, Algiers?”
“I fear it is,” replied the Jew, “unless Providence permits a storm to set you free; but let me correct your notion of Algiers. A pirates’ nest it undoubtedly is, but there are others than pirates in the nest, and some of these are even honest men.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the padrone, quickly and with bitterness; “is one of these said honest men a Jew of stalwart frame, and does his connexion with the piratical nest free him from the bonds to which I and my sons are doomed?”
“To both questions I answer yes,” replied the Jew.
“Then a fig for your honesty, Master Bacri!” said Francisco, with a toss of his head, in lieu of a snap of his fingers, which in the circumstances was impossible, “for I now believe that you knocked Mariano down simply to save the life of your comrade Sidi Hassan, and that you will pocket your own share of my ship and cargo.”
“I have not the power to alter your belief,” said the Jew quietly, as he turned away and left the unfortunate captive to his meditations.
As the night advanced the wind continued to abate, and when morning broke, the broad breast of the Mediterranean undulated like a sheet of clear glass, on which was gradually revealed the form of a strange vessel becalmed not far from the prize.
As soon as it was sufficiently light to permit of objects being clearly seen, Sidi Hassan fired a gun and showed the Algerine flag.
“Our luck has changed,” he said to his first officer, with an air of satisfaction. “Get the boats ready; we will board at once.”
“She shows British colours,” said the mate, regarding the vessel in question intently through