Part 33 (1/2)

He pulled his boar-head down without awaiting a reply, and went hastily off in the direction of a small outhouse where Rais Ali was enjoying himself amid a circle of the French consul's domestics.

Das.h.i.+ng forward, he seized his friend by the arm and dragged him out by main force, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the domestics, who thought it was a practical jest.

”Arrah! don't stare like that, but come along wid ye,” said Ted, hasting to a neighbouring thicket, into the very heart of which he penetrated before halting.

”What be go wrong?” exclaimed Rais.

”They're after me, lad. Don't waste time spaikin'. You've got your burnous here, haven't ye?”

”Yis!”

”Go, fetch it, an' sharp's the word.”

Flaggan's tone and actions were such as to instil a spirit of prompt unquestioning obedience into his friend, who instantly went off; and in a few seconds, (which seemed years to Ted), returned with his burnous.

While the seaman quickly but quietly divested himself of the boar-skin, and put on the burnous with the hood well drawn over his face, he related to his friend the incident at the gate, without, however, mentioning the true cause of his behaviour.

”An' wat for you go be do now?” asked Rais Ali anxiously.

”To make me escape, sure,” said Ted, holding the head of his cudgel close up to his friend's nose; ”across the mountains or over the say, by hook or crook, or through the air, escape I will somehow, even though I should have to jump out at me mouth an' lave me body behind me, for depind upon it that all the Turks an' Moors an' boors an' naigers in the Pirates' Nest ain't able to take Ted Flaggan alive!”

”Unposs'ble!” exclaimed Rais decidedly.

”I manes to try, anyhow,” returned Ted; ”so give us your flipper, owld boy; I've a sort o' sneakin' regard for 'ee, tho' ye haven't much to boast of in the way o' pluck.”

”Unposs'ble!” again e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Rais Ali, with greater decision than before.

”Well, good-bye to 'ee--I'm off.”

”Stay. _I_ will save you.”

”How?” asked Ted, pausing with some impatience.

”Stay. Hold. Stop,” cried, the Moor, seizing the arm of his friend.

”You be mad. Unposs'ble I say?--no, yes, poss'ble anuf for you 'scape without your body. But me save bof. Me knows hole in de rocks; come take you dere,”--here the Moor became emphatic, and lowered his voice to a whisper,--”no boddy do knows it. All dead w'at know'd it vonce. Me was a--what you call?--pirate vonce. Hah! nebber mind, come 'long.

Queek, no time for d'liberazhun.”

”Git along then, old feller,” said Flaggan, thrusting his companion through the thicket very unceremoniously. ”Don't palaver so much, but take the helm; an' wotiver ye do, clap on all sail--ivery st.i.tch you can carry--for the case is desprit.”

Rais Ali did ”clap on all sail,” steered his friend through the brightly-lighted grounds and laughing throng of revellers, through numerous lanes between hedges of aloes and p.r.i.c.kly pear, over the Sahel hills, and away to the northward, until they reached the neighbourhood of Pointe Pescade, which lay about three and a half miles on the other side of the town.

”It's a purty big raigion hereaway,” said Flaggan, during a brief halt to recover breath; ”why shouldn't I steer for the Great Zahairy, an'

live wi' the Bedooin Arabs? I s'pose it's becase they'll always be doin' somethin' or other that they've got the name.”

”'Cause they'd robb an' kill you,” replied Rais.

”Umph!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ted, as they descended to the bold rocky coast, where the celebrated pirate of old was wont to mount guard over the Mediterranean.