“Where, where is it?” exclaimed Colin; “I cannot perceive it.”
“If we are constantly changing owners,” argued Harry, “we may yet fall into the hands of some one who will take us to Mogador.”
“Is that your only hope?” asked Colin in a tone of disappointment.
“Think of poor Jim,” added Bill; “he’s ’ad fifty masters, been ten years in slavery, and not free yet; and no ’ope av 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 make any resistance, it shall be when there is a chance of gaining something by it, instead of a sound thrashing.”
Rais Mourad being unprovided with animals for his slaves to ride upon, and wishing to travel at a greater speed than they could walk, purchased four small horses from the sheik of the place. It was during the time these horses were being caught and made ready for the road, that our adventurers were allowed to eat their dinner.
Although Harry, as well as the others, had determined on making no opposition to going along with Rais 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 this curiosity, only produced the answer, “God knows, and will not tell you. Why should we do more than He?”
Just as the horses were brought out, and all were nearly ready for a start, there occurred a commotion at the gate of the town; and next moment Bo Muzem, accompanied by the grazier, rode in through the gateway.
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Chapter Seventy Eight.
Bo Muzem back again.
As soon as the white slaves recognised the messenger to Mogador, they all rushed forward to meet him.
“Speak, Krooman!” exclaimed Harry. “Ask him if the money for our ransom will be paid? If so, we are free, and they dare not sell us again.”
“Here—here!” exclaimed Bill, pointing to the man who came along with Bo Muzem. “Axe 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 recognised in him the grazier to whom Terence and Jim had been sold.
The Krooman had no opportunity for putting the question; for Bo Muzem, on drawing near to the gate of the town, had allowed his passion to mount into a violent storm. As soon as he beheld the slaves, he shouted out, “Christian dogs! you have deceived me! Let every man, woman, and child, in this town assemble, and be witnesses of the fate that this lying infidel so richly deserves. Let all witness the death of a slave, who has falsely declared he has an uncle in Swearah, named ‘For-God’s-sake-bias’. Let all witness the revenge Bo Muzem will take on the unbelieving dog who 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 white slaves were all sold, the nephew of “For-God’s-sake-bias” among the rest, and on better terms than he and his partners had expected to get at Swearah.
Had Harry Blount been reserved, 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 the slaves; and that the dog who had deceived him should not be sold, but should suffer the penalty incurred, for sending him, Bo Muzem, on his long and bootless journey.
Rais Mourad now came upon the ground. The Moor was not long in comprehending all the circumstances connected with the affair. He instantly ordered his followers to gather around the white slaves, and escort them outside the walls of the town.
Bo Muzem attempted to prevent the order from being executed. He was opposed by everybody, not only by by the Moor, but his own partners, as also the sheik of the town, who declared that there should be no blood spilt among those partaking of his hospitality.
The slaves were now mounted on the horses that had been provided for them, and conducted through the gateway, leaving Bo Muzem half frantic with impotent rage.
There was but one man to sympathise with him in his disappointment—the grazier to whom Terence and Jim had been sold, and who had made arrangements for the purchase of the other three.
Riding up to the Moor, this man declared that the slaves were his property, that he had purchased them the day before; and had given for each four horses, and ten dollars in money.
He loudly protested against being “choused” out of his bargain, and declared that he would bring two hundred men, if necessary, for the purpose of reclaiming his own.
Rais Mourad, paying no attention to this threat, gave orders to his followers to move on; and, although it was now almost night, he started off in the direction of Agadeer.
Before he had proceeded far, he perceived the Arab grazier riding at full speed in the opposite direction, and towards his own home.
“I wish,” said Colin, “that we had made some inquiries of that fellow about Jim and Terence; but it’s too late now.”
“Yes, too late,” echoed Harry; “and I wish that he had obtained possession in the place 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 Moor 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 sailor, “what are you dreaming about?”
“Nothink,” answered Bill, “I’m no goin’ to drame or think any mair.”
“We are agwine straight for Swearah,” observed the Krooman, as he spoke glancing towards the north-west.
“That is true,” exclaimed Harry, looking in the same direction. “Can it be that we are to be taken to Mogador, after all? If so, there is hope for us yet.”
“But Bo Muzem could find no one there who would pay the money for our ransom,” interposed Colin.
“He nebba go thar,” said the Krooman. “He nebba hab de time.”
“I believe the Krooman is right,” said Harry. “We have been told that Mogador is four days’ journey from here; and the merchant was gone but six days.”
The conversation of the slaves was here 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 animal and dismount.
The Moors endeavoured 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 the 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 Rais Mourad, addressing himself to the Krooman.
“We pray for it every hour.”
“Then tell that foolish man that freedom is not found here, that to obtain it he must move on along with me.”
The Krooman made the communication as desired.
“I don’t want to hear any more about freedom,” answered Bill; “I’ve ’eard enough av it. If any on ’em is goin’ to give us a chance for our 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, saying that he should stay there for the remainder 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 journeying towards Mogador, and that the Moor, their master, was an intelligent man—a man who ought to know that he would not lose his money by taking English subjects to a place where they would be sure of being ransomed.
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Chapter Seventy Nine.
A Pursuit.
On the first appearance of day Rais Mourad ordered the march to be resumed, himself riding in the advance over a long ridge of sand. The sun soon after shone forth, and 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, Agadeer.
Descending from the sand-ridge, the cavalcade moved over a level plain covered with grain crops and dotted here and there with small walled villages, each surrounded by a plantation of vines and date-trees.
At one of the villages near the road the cavalcade made halt and was admitted within the walls. Throwing themselves down in the shade of some date-trees the white slaves soon fell into a sound slumber.
Three hours after they were awakened to breakfast, which consisted of hot barley cakes and honey.
Before they had finished their repast, Rais Mourad came up to the spot and entered into conversation with the Krooman.
“What does the Moor say?” inquired Harry.
“He say dat if we be no bad, and no cheat him, he take us to Swearah to de English consul.”
“Of course we will promise that, or anything else,” asserted Harry, “and keep the promise too, if we can. He will be sure of being 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 receive two hundred dollars for each of them.
This they readily assented to; and the Moor then produced a piece of paper, a reed pen, and some ink.
Rais Mourad wrote the agreement himself in Arabic on one side of the paper, and then reading it sentence by sentence requested the Krooman to translate it to his companions.
The translation given by the Krooman was as follows:—
“To English Consul.
“We be four Christian slave. Rais Mourad 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. Please pay him quick.”
Harry and Colin signed the paper without any hesitation, and it was then handed, along with the pen, to Sailor Bill.
The old sailor took the paper and, after carefully surveying 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 knelt down and very deliberately set about the task of making his autograph.
Slowly, as the hand of a clock moving over the face of the dial, did Bill’s hand pass over the paper, while his head oscillated from side to side as each letter was being shaped.
After he had succeeded in painting a few characters which, in his opinion, expressed the name of “William McNeal,” the document was handed to Harry, who was asked to write a similar agreement on the other side of the paper, which they were 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 saddle, and, riding out through the gateway of the town, 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 by him to reach the city before his party could be overtaken.
The horses ridden by the white slaves were small animals, in poor condition, and were unable to move up the steep hill with much speed, although the riders had been reduced by starvation to the very lightest of weights.
Before reaching the level plain on the top of the hill, the pursuers had gained on them rapidly, and lessened the distance between the two parties by nearly half a mile. The nearest gate of the city was still more than a mile ahead, and towards it the Moors urged their horses with all the energy that could be inspired by oaths, kicks, and blows.
As Rais Mourad’s party approached the gate, the heads of their pursuers were seen just rising over the crest of the hill behind them. But as the Moor saw that his slaves were now safe, he checked his speed, and the few yards that remained of the journey were performed at a slow pace: for the great man did not wish to enter the gate of a strange city in a hasty or undignified manner.
There was no delay in passing the sentinels; and in five minutes after the weary slaves dismounted from their nearly exhausted steeds, and were commanded by Rais Mourad to thank God that they had arrived safe within the limits of the great Empire of Morocco.
In less than a quarter of an hour later, 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 immediate 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 and his property.
The officer informed Bo Muzem that, while within the walls of the city, he must not molest other people, and the latter 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 whose company he 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 without receiving punishment, their fierce deportment soon gave way to a demeanour more befitting the streets of a civilised town.
Both pursued and pursuers were cautioned against any infringement of the laws of the place, and as a different quarter was assigned to each party, all chances of a conflict were, for the time, happily frustrated.
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Chapter Eighty.
Moorish Justice.
The next morning, Rais Mourad was summoned to appear before the governor of the place. He was ordered 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 residence.
