Part 18 (1/2)
Between them they succeeded in securing Mariano, and, with a handkerchief tied his hands behind him.
”Now then, young feller,” said Flaggan, taking the youth by the arm, ”you'll have to go before the British couns'l an' give an account of yerself. So come along.”
Of course when Mariano was taken into the presence of Colonel Langley, and had whispered a few words in his ear, the seaman and his friend Rais Ali were dismissed with the a.s.surance that all was right--an a.s.surance, by the way, which was not quite satisfactory to the latter, when he reflected on and tenderly stroked the b.u.mp, about as large as a pigeon's egg, which ornamented the s.p.a.ce between his eyes!
”Never mind, Ally Babby,” was his friend's consolatory remark as they left the house and returned to their hammocks; ”it can't damage your good looks, an' 'll prove a mighty source of amazement to the muskaities.”
Meanwhile the consul accompanied Mariano a short way on his return to town, so that the latter might not be delayed.
”I hope there is no fear of an outbreak occurring before I can get into town to-morrow,” said the consul, as they were about to part. ”It is impossible that I can demand an audience of the Dey before breakfast without creating suspicion. Tell Bacri, however, that he may depend on my doing my utmost without delay to avert the evil. And now, how do you mean to return to him--for it occurs to me that although you may scale the walls easily enough, you won't be able to retrace your way to the house of the Jew who favoured your escape?”
”Bacri had foreseen that,” replied the youth, ”and has arranged to meet and guide me from a street leading south from the Bagnio, which is known to both of us.”
”He runs great risk in doing this,” said the consul; ”however, he knows the outs and ins of the city well. Good-bye, and G.o.d speed you on your way.”
Mariano, who was impatient to return, at once darted away like a deer, and was soon lost to view among the aloes and cactuses that clothed the slopes of the Sahel hills.
Not long afterwards the grey light of day began to tip the domes and minarets of the pirate city, and with it began the soft hum of a general awakening--for Mohammedans are early risers, and even pirates deemed it consistent with their calling to commence the day with formal--not to say ostentatious--prayers. Any one traversing the streets at that early hour might have seen men at the fountains busy with their prescribed ablutions, while elsewhere others were standing, kneeling, or prostrating themselves, with their faces turned carefully in the direction of Mecca, their holy city.
It must not be supposed, however, as we have already remarked, that all the men of the town were pirates. That the town existed by means of piracy, and that all its chief men from the Dey downwards were pure and simple robbers, is quite consistent with the fact that there were many honest enough traders and workmen whose lot had been cast there, and whose prayers were probably very heartfelt and genuine--some of them, perchance, being an appeal for deliverance from the wretches who ruled them with a rod of iron--indeed, we might almost say, a rod of red-hot iron. Whatever the nature of their prayers, however, they were early in presenting, and remarkably particular in not omitting, them.
Down at the Marina there was a group of Christian slaves who were not behind their task-masters in this respect. In an angle of the fortifications the Padre Giovanni was kneeling by the side of a dying slave. The man had been crushed accidentally under a large piece of the rock with which the bulwarks of the harbour were being strengthened. He had been carried to the spot where he lay, and would have been left to die uncared for if Blindi Bobi had not chanced to pa.s.s that way. After administering such consolation as lay in a little weak wine and water from his flask, the eccentric but kind-hearted man had gone off in search of the Padre, who was always ready to hasten at a moment's notice to minister to the necessity of slaves in sickness. Too often the good man's services were of little avail, because the sick slaves were frequently kept at work until the near approach of death rendered their labours worthless; so that, when Giovanni came to comfort them, they were almost, if not quite, indifferent to all things.
On the present occasion he was too late to do more than pray that the dying man might be enabled, by the Holy Spirit, to trust in the salvation wrought out--and freely offered to sinners, even the chief--by Jesus Christ.
While the spirit of the poor slave was pa.s.sing away, Sidi Omar approached the spot. Blindi Bobi, remembering a former and somewhat similar occasion, at once glided behind a projection of the walls and made off.
”He is past your help now, Giovanni,” said Omar to the old man, for whom he, in common with nearly all the people of the town, entertained great respect, despite his Christianity, for the Padre had spent the greater part of a long life among them, in the exercise of such pure, humble philanthropy, that even his enemies, if he had any, were at peace with him.
”His spirit is with G.o.d who gave it,” replied the old man, rising and contemplating sadly the poor crushed form that lay at his feet.
”His spirit won't give us any more trouble, then,” returned Omar, as he regarded the dead man with a stern glance; ”he was one of the most turbulent of our slaves.”
”And one of the most severely tried,” said Giovanni, looking gently in the face of the Minister of Marine.
”He had all the advantages and comforts of other slaves; I know not what you mean by `tried,'” retorted Omar, with a grim smile.
”He was wrenched, with his family, from home and friends and earthly hope, twenty years ago; he saw his children perish one by one under cruel treatment; he saw his wife sold into slavery, though he did not see her die--as I did--of a broken heart, and he suffered all the torments that ingenuity could devise before his spirit was set free.”
Giovanni said this slowly and very gently, but two bright red spots on his pale careworn cheeks showed that he spoke with strong emotion.
”Well, well,” returned Omar, with a sinister smile, ”that gives him all the better chance in the next life; for, according to the faith of you Christians, his sufferings here go to make weight in the matter of his salvation. Is it not so?”
”Men who call themselves Christians,” said the Padre, ”do not all hold the same faith. There are those who appear to me to wrest Scripture to their own destruction; they find in one part thereof a description of true faith as distinguished from a dead, false, or spurious faith, which reveals its worthlessness by the absence of `works,' and, founding on that, they refuse to accept the other portion of Scripture which saith that `by the works of the law shall no man living be justified.' I, with many others, hold that there is no merit in our simply suffering.
The sufferings and the obedience of Jesus Christ in our stead is all the merit on which we rest our hopes of salvation.”
”It may be so, Giovanni,” returned Omar carelessly, ”but I profess not to understand such matters. The slave is dead, and thou hast one less to care for.”
With this sentiment, accompanied by a smile of pity and a shake of his head, the Minister of Marine left the Padre, and directed his steps towards the town. On his way he met the court story-teller or jester.