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 his glass.
“So she does,” returned the captain, “but that device won’t go down with me. Board her at once, while I bring our broadside to bear.”
The mate, with two boats full of armed men, soon pulled alongside the strange sail, and the pirate-vessel was brought round with her broadside to bear by means of long oars or sweeps. In a short time the boats returned with the mortifying intelligence that the papers were all right, and that the vessel, being in truth a British merchantman, was not a legitimate prize. The corsair therefore sailed away under the influence of a light breeze which had arisen.
At the time of which we write, (about sixty years ago), Algiers was under the dominion of Turkey, but exercised all the rights of an independent state. It may be described as a monstrous blot of barbarism hanging on the skirts of civilisation. It was an anomaly too, for it claimed to be an orthodox power, and was recognised as such by the nations of Europe, while in reality its chief power consisted in consummate impudence, founded on pride and ignorance of the strength of other powers, coupled with the peculiarity of its position and with the fact that the great nations were too much engaged fighting with each other to be at leisure to pay attention to it. Its rulers or Deys were most of them ignorant men, who had risen, in many cases, from the ranks of the janissaries or common Turkish soldiery, and its sole occupation was piracy—piracy pure and simple.
It did not, like other powers, find a pretext for war in the righting of a supposed or real wrong. The birds of the Pirates’ Nest were much too simple in their grandeur thus to beat about the bush. They went straight to the point. Without any pretext at all they declared war with a nation when they had a mind to plunder it, and straightway set about making prizes of the merchantmen of that nation; at the same time keeping carefully clear of its cruisers. If there had been a tangible grievance, diplomacy might have set it right—but there never was any grievance, either real or imaginary. If there had been a worthy fleet that would come out and face a foe, courage and power might have settled the question—but there was no such fleet. The nest possessed only a few small frigates and a considerable number of boats, large and small, which crept along the northern shores of Africa, and pounced upon unwary traders, or made bold dashes at small villages on the southern shores of Europe and in the isles of the Mediterranean. Trade was horribly hampered by them, though they had no ostensible trade of their own; their influence on southern Europe being comparable only to that of a wasps’ nest under one’s window, with this difference, that even wasps, as a rule, mind their own business, whereas the Algerine pirates minded the business of everybody else, and called that their own special vocation!
Like other powers, they took prisoners, but instead of exchanging these in times of war and freeing them on return of peace, they made galley-slaves of them all, and held them to ransom. At all times there were hundreds of Christian slaves held in bondage. Even in this present century, so late as 1816, the Algerine Turks held in captivity thousands of Christian slaves of all grades and classes, from all parts of Europe, and these were in many cases treated with a degree of cruelty which is perhaps equalled, but not surpassed, by the deeds recorded of negro slavery; and so hopeless were people as to the power or intention of governments to mend this state of things, that societies were formed in some of the chief countries in the world, including England, France, and America, for the express purpose of ransoming Christian slaves from those dreaded shores of Barbary.
Having said this, the reader will doubtless be prepared to hear that the civilised world, howling with indignation, assailed, burned, and exterminated this pirates’ nest. Not at all. The thing was tolerated; more than that, it was recognised! Consuls were actually sent to the nest to represent Great Britain, France, Spain, Portugal, Holland, Sweden, Denmark, America; disgraceful treaties were entered into; and annual tribute was paid by each of these, in the form of a costly “present” to the Dey, for the purpose of securing immunity to their trading vessels! Whatever nation kept a consul at this nest and paid “black-mail” passed scot free. The nation that failed in these respects was ruthlessly and systematically plundered—and this at the time when Lord Nelson was scouring the ocean with mighty armaments; when our songs lauded the wooden walls of old England to the skies; and when Great Britain claimed to herself the proud title of “Mistress of the Sea”! If you doubt this, reader, let us assure you that all history asserts it, that recorded facts confirm it, and that our proper attitude in regard to it is to stand amazed, and admit that there are some things in this curious world which “no fellow can understand.”
Without apologising for this digression, we return to the thread of our tale.
Finding, then, as we have said, that the British merchantman was not a legitimate foe, the corsair proceeded to look out for a more worthy object of attack—namely, a vessel of some hapless petty state, which, being too venturesome, or too poor to pay black-mail, was at war, perforce, with the Algerines. Fortune, however, ceased for a short time to be propitious. No suitable vessel was to be found, therefore Sidi Hassan resolved to exercise the rights of the unusually free and independent power of which he was a worthy representative in a somewhat strange fashion.
Bearing down on the coast, he sailed along it for some time, with the intention of making a bold dash at some small fishing village. His mate rather objected to this, knowing well that such attempts were too apt to be attended with considerable loss of life; but Sidi Hassan was not a man to be easily turned from his purpose. The sight of a brig in the offing, however, induced him to run out again to sea. He was soon within hail, and, finding that the vessel was a Sicilian trader, boarded her at once.
No opposition was offered, the brig being totally without arms and her crew small. She, like the vessel of our friend Francisco, was laden with wine and fruit. There were only two passengers on board, but these two were great prizes in Hassan’s estimation, being beautiful girls of about seventeen and eighteen respectively. They were sisters—the elder being on her way with her infant son to join her husband in Malta.
Hassan was glad of the opportunity thus thrown in his way of pleasing his master the Dey of Algiers by presenting to him these unfortunates, whose manners and appearance bespoke them ladies, and at once sent them on board his vessel, along with their money and jewels. Their wardrobe was distributed among the pirate crew—the money and jewels being the Dey’s perquisite.
“I have a plan in my head,” said Hassan to his second in command, “which the capture of this brig has suggested to me. Go, take charge of our vessel, and send me twenty of the best men of our crew fully armed—also a British union-jack. There is a captain of a port in this neighbourhood against whom I have a special grudge, and to whom I would fain give a free passage to Algiers! so make haste.”
The order was soon executed, and the pirate-vessel ordered to remain where she was while the brig stood inshore and sailed along the coast. In a few hours she was off the port above referred to, when she hove-to, hoisted the British flag, and fired a gun. The captain of the port innocently put off to the brig, and in a few minutes found himself and his boat’s crew taken captive by the Algerines!
Having thus successfully accomplished his design, Hassan returned to his vessel, put a crew on board the second prize, and, directing his course to Africa made all sail for the port of Algiers.
During the voyage the unfortunate captives saw little of each other, nevertheless Mariano saw enough of the sisters, to create in his breast feelings of the tenderest pity—especially for the younger sister, whom he thought rather pretty than otherwise! As for the Jew, he kept aloof from all the captives, but seemed to have a good understanding with the pirate captain, and to be acquainted with several of his men.
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