Once again the trailing end got into the split hoof, once again the maherry was tripped up; and came down neck 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 creatures closed around them, and took possession of the whole party; as they did so yelling like a cohort of fiends.
In the obfuscation of his “sivin” senses, the young Irishman may have scarcely understood what was passing around him. It was too clear to his companions, clear as a catastrophe could be, to those who are its victims.
The shot fired by the sheik, if failing in the effect intended, 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 surrounded 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 different cause, was equally in a hopeless “muddle.”
It resulted in all three being captured, and conducted up the ravine towards the camp of the wreckers.
* * *
* * *
Chapter Thirty Five.
Our 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. Equally sans cérémonie, or even with less ceremony, 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 terminating in a contest between two scimitars.
In this way their jackets and dreadnought trousers, their caps and shoes, their dirks, belts, and pocket paraphernalia, were distributed among nearly as many claimants as there were pieces.
You may suppose that modesty interfered to reserve to them their shirts? Such a supposition would be altogether erroneous. There is no such word in the Bedouin vocabulary, no such feeling in the Bedouin breast.
In the douar to which they were conducted were lads as old as they, and lasses too, without the semblance of clothing upon their nude bodies; not even a shirt, not even the orientally famed fig-leaf!
The reason of their being allowed to retain their homely garments had nothing to do with any sentiment of delicacy. For the favour, if such it could be called, they were simply indebted to the avarice of the old sheik, who, having recovered from the stunning effects of his tumble, claimed all three as his captives, and their shirts along with 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 allowed; and our adventurers were spared the shame of entering the Arab encampment in puris naturalibus.
In their shirts did they once more stand face to 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 distributed throughout the douar; and scarce a tent but contained 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 until they had “run a muck” among the women and children, very similar to that which Bill had to submit to himself. 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 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 neophytes, for some length of time to indulge in their customary mode of saluting strange captives, withdrew 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 state of tranquillity.
* * *
* * *
Chapter Thirty Six.
The Captives in Conversation.
This tranquillity only related to any disturbance experienced 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 incident that had arisen.
As already stated, the two sheiks, by a mutual understanding, 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 into the douar, first in the shape of Sailor Bill, and afterwards, in more generous guise, by the capture of the three “young gentlemen” of the gunroom, had caused some change in the plans of their captors.
By mutual understanding between the two sheiks, something 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 clamour 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 midshipmen 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 understood 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 question asked by the new comers, after they had been left free to make inquiries.
“Faix!” responded the sailor, for it was Terry who had put the interrogatory; “iverything they cud 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 thar cruel thorns. My carcass must be like an old seventy-four, after comin’ out av action, as full av holes as a meal 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 encampment.
“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 assented 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 settled it by some sort o’ a game they played wi’ balls of kaymals’ dung. The black won me; and 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’ll take us, Bill?”
“The Lord only knows, an’ whether we’re all bound for the same port.”
“What! you think we may be separated?”
“Be ma saul, 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 saved, but I could mak oot two words I ha’e often heerd while cruisin’ in the Gulf o’ Guinea. They are the names o’ two great toons, a lang way up the kintry, Timbuctoo and Sockatoo. They are negro toons: an’ for that reezun I ha’e a suspeshun my master’s bound to one or other o’ the two ports.”
“But why do you think that we are to be taken elsewhere?” demanded Harry Blount.
“Why, because, Master ’Aarry, you belong to the hold sheik, as is plainly a Harab, an’ oose port of hentry lies in a different direction, that be to the northart.”
“It’s all likely enough,” said Colin; “Bill’s prognostication 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’ll do wi’ us poor bodies.”
“I hope,” said Terence, “they’ll not part us. No doubt slavery will be hard enough to bear under any circumstances; 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 carrying it on, worn-out by fatigue, and watchfulness long protracted, despite the unpleasantness of their situation, soon after, and simultaneously, yielded their spirits to the soothing oblivion of sleep.
* * *
* * *
Chapter Thirty Seven.
The Douar at Dawn.
They could have slept for hours, twenty-four of them had they been permitted such indulgence.
But they were not. As the first streaks of daylight became visible over the eastern horizon, the whole douar was up and doing.
The women and children of both hordes were seen flitting like shadows among the tents. Some squatted under camels, or kneeling by the sides of the goats, drew from these animals that lacteal fluid that may be said to form the staple 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 they looked, were preparing the true déjeuner, consisting of sangleh, a sort of gruel, made with millet-meal, boiled over a dull fire of camels’ dung.
The sangleh was to be eaten, by such of them as could afford 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 maherries, not a few indulging in the universal beverage by a direct application of their lips to the teats of the animal; 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 his sinewy frame was a pair of cotton drawers, neither very clean nor very sound at the seams.
All four shivered in the chill air of the morning: for hot as is the Saara under its noon-day sun, in the night hours its thermometer frequently falls almost to the point of freezing.
Their state of discomfort did not hinder them from observing what was passing around them. They could have slept on; but the discordant noises of the douar, and a belief 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 labour, 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 conclusion, that under similar circumstances mankind will ever be the same. In the Comanche of the Llano Estacado, or the Pawnee of the Platte, he would have found an exact counterpart of the Ishmaelitish wanderer over the sandy plains of the Saara.
He was allowed but scant time to philosophise upon these ethnological phenomena. As the douar became stirred into general activity, he, along with his two companions, was rudely startled 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 administering to him a cruel kick, that came very near shivering some of his stern timbers.
