When his hunger was appeased, Francisco Rimini turned to Ted Flaggan and asked him, through Lucien, to go over again in detail the course of action which Bacri advised him and his sons to adopt in order to effect their escape out of the country. “For,” said he with emphasis, “I’m neither a lion nor a rabbit, and cannot therefore make up my mind to spend the rest of my days in a hole.”
We will spare the reader Mister Flaggan’s repetition of the details referred to, merely remarking that they embraced careful directions as to when and where a boat would be found on the coast ready to carry them out to sea, and that they contained many earnest cautions to be wary, as nothing short of death by slow torture would be their fate if recaptured—this being their second attempt at escape.
Meanwhile circumstances were transpiring which gave a new turn to the state of affairs in the pirate city.
We have elsewhere remarked on the amazing fact that the great powers of Europe and America tolerated the system of barefaced piracy which was carried on by the Algerines against all nations that did not pay them “black-mail,” but it must not be supposed that this disgraceful submission was the result of fear or of indifference. The truth is, that the great powers were so busily engaged in throttling each other that they had no time to give proper attention to the Algerine wasps that stung them, and the wasps themselves were so besottedly ignorant of European affairs and of their own relative insignificance, so puffed up indeed by their supposed greatness—a delusion which was shamefully fostered by the action towards them of the great powers themselves—that they wilfully proceeded to extremities which a very little knowledge of other nations would have convinced them was the certain way to bring about their own ruin. The immense sums raised year after year by various European nations, and given to the pirates for the redemption of thousands of Christian slaves, proved that they were not indifferent to the scourge of the Mediterranean. (See Note 1.)
But in the midst of this disgraceful forbearance of the nations, there was an occasional growl from one and another, and a fierce side-glance at the wasps, which might have let them see that their nest was in danger.
For instance, in 1804 Admiral Nelson menaced the town with a large fleet, and not long afterwards the Americans absolutely declined to pay their “black-mail,” and sent a squadron to procure, or, if need were, to compel a favourable treaty of peace with the Algerines. Other clouds arose here and there and overhung the doomed city, but the infatuated pirates remained blind as bats and insolent as monkeys.
Thus matters stood when the Dey Omar ascended the throne, and for some time afterwards.
One morning the English consul was summoned to attend the divan of the Dey, in connexion with a vessel which had lately been brought in as a prize by one of the Algerine corsairs.
The consul had previously presented himself at Court—as did all the other consuls—to pay his respects to the new Dey, and on a subsequent occasion had made an effort to press a point which had always been a matter of deep interest with him, namely, the bringing about of peace between the Algerines and the Portuguese. There were many Portuguese slaves in the town and neighbourhood at the time, and several officers of that country dwelt there, exempt from the duty of labouring like beasts of burden at the works on the walls and about the harbour, solely in virtue of annual tribute being paid by their friends. The former Dey, Achmet, had declined to oblige his friend Colonel Langley by making peace with Portugal, on the ground that he could not forego the advantages resulting from a state of warfare. The new Dey, Omar, was still less capable of being influenced by considerations of humanity.
“What would you have?” he said, when Colonel Langley spoke to him on the subject; “my people are brigands, and I am their chief! If I make peace with Portugal, it will be absolutely necessary that I should declare war with America, merely to keep my people employed!”
This was at all events candid, and the consul felt that it would be vain to press the matter he had so much at heart as long as Omar occupied the throne.
On his way down to the Marina, where the divan referred to was to be held, he met Blindi Bobi looking rather disconsolate. Having an hour or more to spare, he resolved to have a chat with him.
“Well, Bobby, my boy,” said the consul kindly, for the eccentric interpreter was a favourite, “you seem sad. Nothing wrong, I hope?”
“Not wi’ me, nohow,” responded Bobi, shaking his head. “Nuffin never wrong wi’ me. Always too well. Health to the mast-head—more nor I knows wat to do wid. Wishes I could die, I do—sometimes.”
“I grieve to hear that,” said the consul earnestly, for he saw that the man was in no jesting humour. “Let me know what distresses you.”
“Sidi Cadua,” said Bobi.
“What! the father of poor Ashweesha, widow of my late friend Achmet Dey?” said the consul.
“Yis. Hush! Omar Dey—de divl,” growled Bobi in a low tones, “gits the berry stones to listen an’ reports wat peepil say.”
“Never fear,” returned the consul, smiling, “they dare not report what I say. Come, tell me about it.”
“Oh! it shockable,” said Bobi. “Come an’ see.” So saying, the poor man hurried off in the direction of a low-lying part of the town, closely followed by the consul. Here, seated on a plain mat in an empty cellar, which was destitute of furniture and almost of light, they found the father of the late Sultana. His gentle, kindly spirit seemed, like his frail old body, to be bowed to the very dust.
“My dear friend,” exclaimed the consul, almost overwhelmed with grief at the sight, “has the villain robbed you of all your wealth?”
“He has,” replied the old man, taking the consul’s proffered hand and pressing it warmly; “but he has done worse than that—”
“What! has he dared to—”
Sidi Cadua interrupted and answered the question by quietly removing the lower part of his robe, and exposing his feet, which were dreadfully swollen and scarred with the bastinado.
“Even that is not the worst of it,” said the old man, re-covering his mutilated feet; “my daughter, my sweet, tender Ashweesha, has been cruelly bastinadoed for—”
He broke down here, and, covering his face with his withered hands, groaned aloud.
For a few moments Colonel Langley could not speak.
“But why,” he said at length, “why such cruelty?”
Recovering himself, Sidi Cadua slowly related the circumstances. An enemy, he said, had accused him to the Dey Omar of having hidden away a large amount of treasure, and he had been put to the torture in order to force him to disclose the truth; but the truth was that he had never concealed treasure, and had no confession to make. Believing that his silence was the result of sheer obstinacy, and that the truth might perhaps be extorted from his daughter, the cruel monster had the gentle Ashweesha dragged from her apartments and subjected to the bastinado.
“Dreadful!” exclaimed the consul. “Where is she now?”
Sidi Cadua silently pointed to a ragged old burnous in a dark corner of the little cellar, under which a human form lay crouched up and motionless.
“Not dead?” asked the consul anxiously.
“No, not dead,” replied the old man, with an upward glance of gratitude.
“Sidi Cadua,” exclaimed the consul, rising hastily, “excuse my leaving you now. I have to attend the divan. You shall hear from me soon. You—you,”—looking round—“have no other house than this—no food?”
“Nothing!” said the old man in a low voice, as his white head sank on his bosom.
“Listen, my man,” said the consul earnestly, as he hastened down to the Marina.
“Yis, Signor,” answered Bobi.
“Can you find time to go out to my house just now?”
“Yis, Signor.”
“Then, go—go as fast as legs or horse can carry you. See my wife; tell her what we have seen; let her send Rais Ali into town with other servants—separately, not to attract attention—with baskets—full baskets, you understand?”
“Yis, Signor, full to bustin’,” answered Bobi, with glittering eyes.
“Full as they can hold of all that is needful—she will understand that.—There, be off—lose no time,” said the consul, thrusting a quantity of silver into the man’s hand.
“Kurnul Langley,” said Bobi, with enthusiasm glowing in his solitary eye, as he turned to go; “you—by the beard of the Prophet!—you’re the ace of trumps!”
With this strong, if not elegant expression of his sentiments, the sympathetic Bobi hurried away, and Colonel Langley entered the divan, where were assembled the Dey and the chief officers of state.
The discussion on that occasion was conducted warmly, for the pirates believed that they had made a good and legitimate prize in the shape of a Greek vessel, which was owned by a Mr and Mrs de Lisle, who, with their little son, were also captured.
Colonel Langley claimed these as British subjects, and the vessel as British property.
In this case the pirates had taken a precaution which, they had hoped, would save them all trouble. On boarding the vessel they had demanded all Mr de Lisle’s papers and passports, which, when delivered up, were torn into atoms and thrown into the sea. Thus they sought to destroy all evidence of the nature of the prize.
Mr de Lisle was a native of Guernsey, and therefore an English subject. Early in life he had entered a commercial house in Holland, and been naturalised there. Afterwards he was sent to a branch of the same house in Naples, which at that time was occupied by the French. Amassing considerable property, he resolved to return to his native land, and hired a Greek vessel, as being a neutral one, to convey him. On his way, he fell into the hands of the Algerines.
At the divan the British consul claimed that Mr de Lisle and his family and property should be delivered up to him.
The Turks, with whom Colonel Langley was out of favour now that his friend Achmet was dead, were furious. How could he be an Englishman, they said, when it was well-known that the French would not have permitted one of their chief enemies to remain at Naples?
“And besides,” added Omar, with a touch of sarcasm, “where are his papers to prove that what he says is true?”
The consul had made his demand with unusual firmness and dignity, for the memory of poor Sidi Cadua was strong upon him, but this latter remark somewhat perplexed him. Fortunately, at the moment, de Lisle himself, who was present, started up and said in English, across the divan—
“If I am permitted to go on board my vessel, I can still bring satisfactory evidence of my nationality.”
The Turks were extremely unwilling to concede this, but when the consul turned and said to the Dey, “I trust your highness will not refuse so reasonable a request,” he was permitted to go. In a short time he returned with the certificate of his marriage, which proved that he had been married in Guernsey, and was a British subject, to the inexpressible rage of the divan, who were compelled, however, to give in.
“Nevertheless, Monsieur le Console,” said the Dey sternly, “if it shall be proved, even twenty years hence, that you were wrong in this matter, you shall have to answer for it.”
From that time the British consul and the Dey became open enemies, which was a matter of gratulation to the consuls of some of the other powers, who had been rather jealous of Colonel Langley’s influence with the late Dey, Achmet.
Not long afterwards they would have been glad if his influence could have been restored; for Omar, being soured by what had occurred at the divan, as well as by many other things that crossed his imperious will, commenced to act in such an outrageous manner that the various consuls felt not only their independence but their lives in jeopardy.
Sending for the Danish consul one morning, Omar told that unfortunate man that his government had already been warned more than once to pay the tribute which was past due, and that he was going to stand their neglect no longer. He therefore ordered him to be put in chains, and sent forthwith to work in the stone-quarries.
The order was at once obeyed. A chaouse, at a signal from the Dey, seized the Danish consul by the waist-band, thrust him out of the palace, and along the streets to the Bagnio, there loaded him with chains, and led him forth to work with the slaves!
The consternation of the other consuls was of course extreme. The instant Colonel Langley heard of it, he ordered his horse and galloped into town, accompanied by Rais Ali and Ted Flaggan, the latter having constituted himself a sort of extra aide-de-camp or special attendant of the consul, in order to gratify the more easily an insatiable thirst for knowledge as to all that took place around him.
They went direct to the residence of the Danish consul, where they found his poor wife and children in the deepest grief and alarm at what had occurred, for it had been reported to them that Omar had said he would order the wife and children of the Danish consul to be put up for sale in the public slave-market if the tribute due by Denmark were not paid without further delay.
“Trust me, madam,” said the Colonel with indignation, “we shall not suffer this barbarian to carry out his threats, and we will, moreover, see instant justice done to your husband.”
Hastily writing several notes requesting a meeting with his brother consuls in the residence of the Dane, he despatched them by his two satellites, and very speedily the whole were assembled.
“Gentlemen,” said Colonel Langley, after some conversation, “it is imperative that we should act at once, unitedly and with decision. Anything like vacillation at such a crisis will encourage these barbarians to proceed to extremities which may end in our ruin. Need I call to your remembrance the recent case of the unhappy Dutch consul, who had dwelt twenty-three years in this city, and who, although an old and infirm man, was loaded with irons of sixty pounds’ weight, and marched out to labour with the other slaves, from which treatment he soon after died—all, forsooth, because his government had delayed to send the accustomed annual ‘present’ to the Dey at the appointed time? It concerns us all, gentlemen, that we should act promptly. We must proceed in a body at once—within this hour—to the palace, and demand that our brother consul shall instantly be set at liberty. For this purpose, if you agree with me, we must elect one of our number to be spokesman.”
At this point the other consuls interrupted the Colonel, by begging him to accept the office, and to lead them out at once.
“I accept it with pleasure,” said the Colonel, turning to Rais Ali, who stood at his elbow.—“Rais, you will accompany me to interpret—”
“Oh, Monsieur!” exclaimed Rais, who had not many minutes before been boasting to his friend Flaggan that he was a brave English tar as good as himself, but who now turned very pale; “oh no, no! Please, Monsieur, demand me not to go dis time for interprit. For certain the Dey hims kill me—hims kill all of us.”
“Well then, Rais,” replied the Colonel, somewhat amused at the man’s undisguised terror, “we shall all die together, and you will at least have the comfort of falling in goodly company.”
“But, master,” supplicated Rais, “I’s not a Turk; me dare not defy the Dey to hims visage. I’s only a craulie!”
By which the unhappy man meant to explain that he was only the son of a Turk by an Algerine mother, and that as such he could expect no mercy if he aided in bearding the Dey in his den; but the Colonel was inexorable, and poor Rais Ali was obliged to submit.
At this time, the English and French being at war, there existed a somewhat natural feeling of estrangement between the representatives of the two nations at Algiers. Colonel Langley thought the present a good opportunity to effect a better understanding between them. He therefore offered his arm to the French consul, who accepted it politely, though with feelings of surprise. Thus they walked out two and two into the street, and marched down the principal thoroughfare, across the great square, and straight into the palace.
The amazement of the Algerines at this sight was great, for they were well aware of the bad feeling which had for many years existed between the leading couple in this little procession, or rather between their predecessors, some of whom had taken undignified, not to say disgraceful, methods of displaying their jealousy.
“Allah!” exclaimed the Algerines, turning up their eyes, “the English and French consuls walking together! Surely the old prophecy is about to come true, ‘When Christians are at peace among themselves the downfall of Algiers is decreed!’”
It is said that there really does exist a very old prophecy to this effect among the Mussulmans of Algeria, and certain it is that the prophecy was ultimately fulfilled, but at the time of which we write it was only anticipated.
Demanding an immediate audience, the party were admitted into the presence-chamber, where they created feelings of great surprise in the breasts of the pirate-king and his piratical courtiers.
When Rais Ali had tremblingly translated the demand which had been made with stern dignity by his master, the Dey flew into a towering rage, and actually foamed at the mouth, as he replied—
“Why art thou not glad that I thus punish your old enemy? Was not England lately at war with Denmark?”
“I am not glad,” answered the British consul, “because it is against the spirit of Christianity to cultivate feelings of revenge, and the fact that we were not long since at war with Denmark is no doubt the very reason why the Danes have found it difficult to pay, at the exact time, the debt which they will unquestionably discharge before long; but if your highness continues to act thus to their representative, in despite of his inviolable character, and in defiance of treaties wherein it is specified that the persons and families of consuls are to be held sacred, you may rest assured that no civilised nation will continue to treat with you.”
“What care the Deys of Algiers for the persons of consuls, which you deem so sacred?” said Omar savagely. “Hast thou not heard that in time past we have blown the consuls of refractory nations from the months of our cannon?”
“I have,” replied the Colonel calmly, “and I have also heard that Algiers has been several times bombarded, and nearly reduced to ashes. I do not presume to use threats to your highness,” added the consul firmly, though respectfully, “but I am here as spokesman of these representatives of various powers, to assure you that if you do not release the consul of Denmark immediately, we will all write to our respective governments to send vessels of war to remove us from a court where the law of nations is not respected.”
Omar attempted to bluster a little more, but had sense enough to perceive that he had already gone too far, and at length consented to grant the consuls’ demands. The condemned consul was immediately set at liberty, and his brethren returned to his residence in the same manner as they had left it, with this difference, that the French and English consuls walked in front, with the representative of Denmark between them.
This incident, as may be imagined, did not improve Omar’s temper. Immediately after it, he issued some stringent decrees in reference to the slaves, and ordered the execution of six chief men of the State, whose presence in the city had been a source of danger to the consolidation of his power. Among other things, he made some stern laws in reference to runaway slaves; and, having his attention drawn to the fact that the scrivano-grande of the late Achmet, and his assistant secretary, had not yet been discovered, he not only ordered the search for them to be continued with increased diligence, but took the unusual method of offering a reward to any one who should find or bring news of them.
This caused the matter to be widely talked about, and among others who heard of the proclamation was a little Moorish girl named Ziffa.
Now this Ziffa was the only daughter of Hadji Baba, the Court story-teller, who, like the Vicar of Bray, managed to remain in office, no matter who should come into or go out of power.
We are sorry to have to record the fact that Ziffa was a bad child—a particularly naughty little girl. She told lies, and was a little thief, besides being fond of that despicable habit styled eavesdropping. She listened behind doors and curtains and at key-holes without feeling a particle of shame! It is probable that the child’s attention would not have been arrested by the proclamation of the Dey, if it had not chanced that, during a visit which she was asked to pay to the garden of the British consul for the purpose of playing with Agnes Langley, she overheard Rais Ali and Ted Flaggan mention the name of Lucien Rimini. The seaman had found it necessary to take Rais into his confidence, and little Ziffa, in the exercise of her disgraceful vocation of eavesdropper, had overheard a little of their conversation about the Riminis. She did not, however, hear much, and, having no interest in the Riminis, forgot all about it.
On hearing the proclamation, however, she bethought her that something might be made out of the matter, if she could only manage to get her little friend Agnes to play the part of spy, and find out about things for her. Opportunity was not long wanting. She had an engagement that very day to go out to the consul’s garden to spend the day with Agnes, and a faithful old negro servant of her father was to conduct her thither.
Ziffa was extremely fond of finery. Just as she was about to set out, her eye fell on a splendid diamond ring which lay on her father’s dressing-table. Hadji Baba was very fond of this ring, as it had been a gift to him from Achmet, his former master, and he never went abroad without it, but a hasty summons to the palace had, on this occasion, caused him to forget it. As it was made for the little finger of Hadji Baba, which was remarkably thin, it exactly fitted the middle finger of Ziffa which was uncommonly fat. Seizing the ring, she thrust it into her bosom, resolving to astonish her friend Agnes. Then, running down-stairs to the old servant, she was soon on her way to the consul’s garden.
“Agnes,” she said, on finding herself alone with her friend, “I want you to do something for—”
“Oh what a lovely ring!” exclaimed Agnes, as Ziffa drew it out of her breast and put it on.
“Yes, isn’t it pretty? But I must not let my old servant see it, lest he should tell my father, who’d be very angry if he knew I had taken it.”
Agnes was taken by surprise, and remained silent. She had been so carefully trained to tell her father and mother everything, and to trust them, that it was a new and disagreeable idea to her the thought of doing anything secretly.
“Well, this is what I want,” continued Ziffa; “I want you to listen to the talk of Rais Ali and the sailor who lives with you, when they don’t know you are near, and tell me all that they say about a family named Rimini—will you?”
“Oh, I can’t do that,” said Agnes decidedly; “it would be wrong.”
“What would be wrong?” asked Mrs Langley, coming out from a side-walk in the garden at that moment to fetch the children in to lunch.
Agnes blushed, looked down, and said nothing. Her mother at once dropped the subject, and led them into the house, where she learned from Agnes the nature of her little friend’s proposal.
“Take no further notice of it, dear,” said her mother, who guessed the reason of the child’s curiosity.
Leaving the friends at lunch in charge of Paulina Ruffini, she hastened to find Ted Flaggan, whom she warned to be more careful how he conversed with his friend Rais.
“What puzzles me, ma’am,” said Ted, “is, how did the small critter understand me, seein’ that she’s a Moor?”
“That is easily explained: we have been teaching her English for some time, I regret to say, for the purpose of making her more of a companion to my daughter, who is fond of her sprightly ways. I knew that she was not quite so good a girl as I could have wished, but had no idea she was so deceitful. Go, find Rais Ali at once, and put him on his guard,” said Mrs Langley, as she left the seaman and returned to the house.
Now, if there ever was a man who could not understand either how to deceive, or to guard against deception, or to do otherwise than take a straight course, that man was Ted Flaggan, and yet Ted thought himself to be an uncommonly sharp deceiver when occasion required.
Having received the caution above referred to, he thrust his hands into his coat-pockets, and with a frowning countenance went off in search of Rais Ali. Mariner-like, he descried him afar on the horizon of vision, as it were, bearing down under full sail along a narrow path between two hedges of aloes and cactus, which led to the house.
By a strange coincidence, Agnes and her friend came bounding out into the shrubbery at that moment, having finished their brief luncheon, and Ziffa chanced to catch sight of the stout mariner as he hastened to meet his friend.
With the intuitive sharpness of an Eastern mind she observed the fact, and with the native acuteness of a scheming little vixen, she guessed that something might turn up. Acting on the thought, she shouted—
“Wait a little, Agnes; I will hide: you shall find me.”
Innocent Agnes obediently waited, while Ziffa ran down the wrong side of the cactus hedge, and kept up with the seaman—a little in rear of him.
“Ho! Ally Babby,” shouted Ted Flaggan, when he was within hail—it might be a hundred yards or so—of his friend, “what d’ee think? that little brown-faced chip of Hadji Baba has been up here eavesdropping, and has got to windward of us a’most. Leastwise she knows enough o’ the Riminis to want to know more—the dirty little spalpeen.”
“Thank you,” thought Ziffa, as she listened.
When Flaggan had varied his remarks once or twice, by way of translating them, Rais Ali shook his head.
“That bad,” said he, “ver’ bad. We mus’ be tremendous cautious. Ziffa’s a little brute.”
“Ha!” thought Ziffa.
“You don’t say so?” observed Flaggan. “Well, now, I’d scarce have thought we had reason to be so fearful of a small thing, with a stupid brown face like that.”
“Brute!” muttered Ziffa inaudibly.
“Oh! she werry sharp chile,” returned Rais, “werry sharp—got ears and eyes from the sole of hers head to de top of hers feets.”
Ziffa said nothing, either mentally or otherwise, but looked rather pleased.
“Well,” continued Rais, “we won’t mention the name of Rimini again nowhars—only w’en we can’t help it, like.”
“Not a whisper,” said Flaggan; “but, be the way, it’ll be as well, before comin’ to that state of prudent silence, that you tell me if the noo hole they’ve gone to is near the owld wan. You see it’s my turn to go up wi’ provisions to-morrow night, and I hain’t had it rightly explained, d’ye see?”
Here Rais Ali described, with much elaboration, the exact position of the new hole to which the Rimini family had removed, at the head of Frais Vallon, and Mademoiselle Ziffa drank it all in with the most exuberant satisfaction.
Shortly afterwards Agnes Langley found her friend hiding close to the spot in the garden where she had last seen her.
That night Hadji Baba made an outrageous disturbance in his household as to the lost diamond ring, and finally fixed, with the sagacity of an unusually sharp man, on his old negro as being the culprit.
Next morning he resolved to have the old man before the cadi, after forenoon attendance at the palace. While there, he casually mentioned to Omar the circumstance of the theft of his ring, and asked leave to absent himself in the afternoon to have the case tried.
“Go,” said Omar gravely, “but see that thou forget not to temper justice with mercy.—By the way, tell me, friend Hadji, before thou goest, what was the meaning of that strange request of thine the other day, and on which thou hast acted so much of late?”
The story-teller turned somewhat pale, and looked anxious.
The strange request referred to was to the effect that the Dey should give him no more gifts or wages, (in regard to both of which he was not liberal), but that instead thereof he, Hadji Baba, should be allowed to whisper confidentially in the Dey’s ear on all public occasions without umbrage being taken, and that the Dey should give him a nod and smile in reply. Omar, who was a penurious man, had willingly agreed to this proposal, and, as he now remarked, Baba had made frequent use of the license.
“Pardon me, your highness,” said Baba; “may I speak the truth without fear of consequences?”
“Truly thou mayest,” replied the Dey; “and it will be well that thou speakest nothing but the truth, else thou shalt have good reason to remember the consequences.”
“Well, then, your highness,” returned Baba boldly, “feeling that my income was not quite so good as my position at Court required, and desiring earnestly to increase it without further taxing the resources of your highness’s treasury, I ventured to make the request which I did, and the result has been—has been—most satisfactory.”
“Blockhead!” exclaimed the irritable Dey, “that does not explain the nature of the satisfaction.”
“Your slave was going to add,” said Hadji Baba hastily, “that my frequent whispering in your ear, and your highness’s gracious nods and smiles in reply, have resulted in my being considered one of the most influential favourites in the palace, so that my good word is esteemed of the utmost value, and paid for accordingly.”
Omar laughed heartily at this, and Hadji Baba, much relieved, retired to have his case tried before the cadi, taking his daughter with him, for she had assured him that she had seen the old servant take it.
The old servant pleaded not guilty with earnest solemnity.
“Are you quite sure you saw him take the ring?” demanded the cadi of Ziffa.
“Quite sure,” replied the girl.
“And you are sure you did not take it?” he asked of the negro.
“Absolutely certain,” answered the old man.
“And you are convinced that you once had the ring, and now have it not?” he said, turning to Hadji Baba.
“Quite.”
“The case is very perplexing,” said the cadi, turning to the administrators of the law who stood at his elbow; “give the master and the servant each one hundred strokes of the bastinado, twenty at a time, beginning with the servant.”
The officers at once seized on the old negro, threw him down and gave him twenty blows. They then advanced to Hadji Baba, and were about to seize him, when he cried out—
“Beware what thou doest! I am an officer of the Dey’s palace and may not be treated thus with impunity.”
The cadi, who either did not, or pretended not, to believe the statement, replied sententiously—
“Justice takes no note of persons.—Proceed.”
The officers threw Baba on his face, and were about to proceed, when Ziffa in alarm advanced with the ring and confessed her guilt.
Upon this the cadi was still further perplexed, for he could not now undo the injustice of the blows given to the negro. After a few minutes’ severe thought he awarded the diamond ring to the old servant, and the two hundred blows to the master as being a false accuser.
The award having been given, the case was dismissed, and Hadji Baba went home with smarting soles, resolved to punish Ziffa severely.
“Spare me!” said Ziffa, whimpering, when her father, seizing a rod, was about to begin.
“Nay, thou deservest it,” cried Baba, grasping her arm.
“Spare me!” repeated Ziffa, “and I will tell you a great secret, which will bring you money and credit.”
The curiosity of the story-teller was awakened.
“What is it thou hast to tell?”
“Promise me, father, that you won’t punish me if I tell you the secret.”
“I promise,” said Baba, “but see that it is really something worth knowing, else will I give thee a severer flogging.”
Hereupon the false Ziffa related all she knew about the hiding-place of the Rimini family. Her father immediately went to the palace, related it to the Dey, and claimed and received the reward.
That night a party of soldiers were sent off to search the head of Frais Vallon, and before morning they returned to town with Francisco and his two sons, whom they threw into their old prison the Bagnio, and loaded them heavily with chains.
Note 1. It is said that the treasure in Algiers about the end of that century amounted to 4,000,000 pounds, most of which was paid by other governments to purchase peace with the Algerines.
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