“I know it, Fatty dear; he’s told me so himself.”
“Then, why not get them, and bring ’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 them, though not very fairly, for if we hadn’t come up in good time they would have taken him instead of his taking them; no matter for that, they’re his now by the laws of the Saara.”
“Bother the laws of the Saara!” exclaimed Fatima, with a disdainful toss of her head, and a scornful turning up of her two protruding teeth; “all stuff and nonsense! There’s no law in the Saara; and if there was, you know we’re never coming into it again. The price you’d get for those three hobbledehoys would keep us comfortable for the balance of our lives; and we need never track the Devil’s desert 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 aloum to his Arab confrère, raised his voice aloud, and demanded from the latter a parley upon business of importance.
* * *
* * *
Chapter Forty One.
The Trio 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 gestures made by the two men, and their looks cast frequently towards themselves, led them to believe that the conversation related to their transference from one to the other.
There was not much to choose between the two masters. Both appeared 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 together. They had been already aware that Old Bill was to be parted from them, and this had caused them a painful feeling; but to be themselves separated, perhaps never to meet again, was a thought still more distressing.
The three youths had been long shipmates, even since entering the naval service of their country. They had become 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 sympathy would, to some extent, alleviate the hardest lot; while alone, and under such cruel taskmasters, the prospect was gloomy in the extreme.
With feelings of keen anxiety, therefore, did they listen to the palaver and watch the countenances of their captors.
After a full half-hour spent in loud talking and gesticulating, some arrangement appeared to have been arrived at between 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 scrutinising 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 Terence, “we’re to belong to the ugly black nayger. Well, perhaps it’s better. We’ll be with Old Bill.”
“Stay a wee,” said Colin; “there’s something more to come yet, I think.”
The black sheik at this moment coming up, interrupted the conversation of the captives.
What was he going to do? Take them with him, they supposed. The old Arab had himself led 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 a matter of indifference to them with which they went, they would offer no opposition.
To their chagrin, however, instead of all three, only one of them was led off; the other two being commanded by gestures to keep their ground.
It was O’Connor to whom this partiality was shown; the black sheik having selected him after a short while spent in scrutinising and comparing the three. The Irish youth was of stouter build than either of his shipmates; and this, perhaps, guided the black sheik in making his choice. By all appearances, the conditions of the exchange were to be different 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 upon. 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 bargaining, 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 blacks were to be the respective stakes.
Old Bill was able to explain the proceedings from his experience of the preceding night; and, as he saw the two sheiks repair to the place where his own proprietorship had been decided, he cried out, “Ye’re 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 proceeding 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 Terence O’Connor.
The Arab appeared sadly chagrined, and by the way in which he strutted and stormed over the ground, it was evident 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 draughts” for his sable antagonist.
It ended in the black sheik becoming 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 direction of Timbuctoo.
* * *
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Chapter Forty Two.
Golah.
In their journey over the sea of sand, our four adventurers 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 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 arranging 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 Saint Paul’s. Neither do we claim that the power of his intellect, 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 intellect. He was born to rule; and not a particle of all the propensities and sentiments constituting his mind was ever intended 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 them; but they were also wanted by Golah, and the Arab was compelled to give them up, after having been fairly beaten at the game; parting with his sable competitor in a mood that was anything but agreeable.
The black sheik had three wives, all of whom possessed the gift of eloquence in a high degree.
For all this, a single glance from him was enough to stop any one of them in the middle of a monosyllable.
Even Fatima, the favourite, 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 which were required for carrying himself and his wives, with their children, trappings, tent utensils, and tents.
The three other camels were laden with the spoils which had been collected from the wreck. Twelve of the sixteen adults in the company were compelled to walk, being forced to keep up with the camels the best way they could.
One of these was Golah’s son, a youth about eighteen years of age. He was armed with a long Moorish 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 both he and Golah’s son seemed to think 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 sailors in 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 bondage on the great Saara.
On the first day of their journey the white captives had learnt the relations existing between the majority of the company and the chief 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 strengthened 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 his companions. “We might be able to stand it several days longer, but I’ve no curiosity to learn whether we can or 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 be slaves; besides, 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 three. I’m starving.”
“Pitch on a plan, and I’ll pitch into it,” rejoined Terence. “I’m ready for anything, from pitch and toss to manslaughter.”
“Stay, Master Terence,” interrupted the old sailor. “Av coorse ye are afther wantin’ to do somethin’, an’ thin to think aftherwards why ye did it. ’Arry, 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 chief was dead, an’ that his son was not alive, and that the other nager was a ristin’ quietly wid his black heels turned from the place where the daisies hought to grow, what should we do thin? We ’ave neither chart nor compass. 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 revarse. 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 him.”
“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 ourselves 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 ’ave a chance of beatin’ ’em. We may fight with men and conquer ’em, an’ we may fight with water an’ conquer that, but when we fight against no water that will conquer us. Natur is sure to win.”
“Bill’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 Kroomen kept near them, and seemed listening to all that was said. His sparkling eyes betrayed the greatest interest.
“Do you understand us?” asked old Bill, turning sharply towards the African, and speaking in an angry tone.
“Yus, sa—a lilly bit,” answered the Krooman, without seeming to notice the unpleasant manner in which the question had been put.
“And what are you listening for?”
“To hear what 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 Portuguese 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. Golah could not afford to keep slaves; and was 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.
