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The Boy Slaves

CHAPTER XLII.
THE TRIO STAKED

The parley that followed was of course unintelligible to our adventurers, the Boy Slaves.

But although they did not understand the words that were exchanged between the two sheiks, they were not without having a conjecture as to their import. The gestures made by the two men, and their looks cast frequently towards themselves, led them to believe that the conversation related to their transference from one to the other.

There was not much to choose between the two masters. Both appeared to be unfeeling savages, and so far had treated their captives with much cruelty. They could only hope, in case of a transfer taking place, that it would not be partial, but would extend to the trio, and that they would be kept together. They had been already aware that old Bill was to be parted from them, and this had caused them a painful feeling; but to be themselves separated, perhaps never to meet again, was a thought still more distressing.

The three youths had long been shipmates, – ever since entering the naval service of their country. They had become fast friends; and believed that whatever might be the fate before them, they could better bear it in each other's company. Companionship would at least enable them to cheer one another; mutual sympathy would, to some extent, alleviate the hardest lot; while alone, and under such cruel taskmasters, the prospect was gloomy in the extreme.

With feelings of keen anxiety, therefore, did they listen to the palaver, and watch the countenances of their captors.

After a full half-hour spent in loud talking and gesticulating, some arrangement appeared to have been arrived at between the two sheiks. Those most interested in it could only guess what it was by what followed.

Silence having been partially restored, the old Arab was seen to step up to the spot where the slaves of the black sheik were assembled; and, after carefully scrutinizing them, pick out three of the stoutest, plumpest, and healthiest young negroes in the gang. These were separated from the others, and placed on the plain some distance apart.

"We're to be exchanged," muttered Terence, "we're to belong to the ugly black nagur. Well, perhaps it's better. We'll be with old Bill."

"Stay a wee," said Colin; "there's something more to come yet, I think."

The black sheik at this moment coming up, interrupted the conversation of the captives.

What was he going to do? Take them with him, they supposed. The old Arab had himself led out the three young "darkies"; and the black sheik was about to act in like manner with the trio of white captives.

So reasoned they; and, as it was a matter of indifference to them with which they went, they would offer no opposition.

To their chagrin, however, instead of all three, only one of them was led off; the other two being commanded by gestures to keep their ground.

It was O'Connor to whom this partiality was shown; the black sheik having selected him after a short while spent in scrutinizing and comparing the three. The Irish youth was of stouter build than either of his shipmates; and this, perhaps, guided the black sheik in making his choice. By all appearances, the conditions of the exchange were to be different from what our adventurers had anticipated. It was not to be man for man, or boy for boy; but three for one, – three blacks to a white.

This was, in reality, the terms that had been agreed upon. The avaricious old Arab, not caring very much to part with his share of the spoil, would not take less than three to one; and to this the black sheik, after long and loud bargaining, had consented.

Terence was led up, and placed alongside the three young darkies, who, instead of taking things as seriously as he, were exhibiting their ivories in broad grins of laughter, as if the disposal of their persons was an affair to be treated only as a joke!

Our adventurers were now apprehensive that they were to be separated. Their only hope was that the bargaining would not end there; but would extend to a further exchange of six blacks for the two remaining whites.

Their conjectures were interrupted by their seeing that the "swop" was not yet considered complete.

What followed, in fact, showed them that it was not a regular trade at all; but a little bit of gambling between the two sheiks, in which Terence and the three young blacks were to be the respective stakes.

Old Bill was able to explain the proceedings, from his experience of the preceding night; and as he saw the two sheiks repair to the place where his own proprietorship had been decided, he cried out: —

"Yere goin' to be gambled for, Masther Terry! Och! ye'll be along wid me, – for the black can bate the owld Arab at that game, all hollow."

The holes in which the helga had been played on the preceding night were now resorted to. The proper number of dung pellets were procured, and the game proceeded.

It ended as the old man-o'-war's-man had prognosticated, by the black sheik becoming the winner and owner of Terence O'Connor.

The Arab appeared sadly chagrined, and by the way in which he strutted and stormed over the ground, it was evident he would not rest satisfied with his loss. When did gamester ever leave gaming-table so long as a stake was left him to continue the play?

Two of the midshipmen still belonged to the old sheik. With these he might obtain a revanche. He made the trial. He was unfortunate, as before. Either the luck was against him, or he was no match at "desert draughts" for his sable antagonist.

It ended in the black sheik becoming the owner of the three midshipmen, who, restored to the companionship of Sailor Bill, in less than twenty minutes after the conclusion of the game, were trudging it across the desert in the direction of Timbuctoo!

CHAPTER XLIII.
GOLAH

In their journey over the sea of sand, our four adventurers formed part of a company of sixteen men and women, along with six or seven children.

All were the property of one man, – the huge and dusky sheik who had won Sailor Bill and the three middies at "desert draughts."

It soon became known to his white captives that his name was Golah, a name which Terence suggested might probably be an African abbreviation of the ancient name of Goliah.

Golah was certainly a great man, – not in bone and flesh alone, but in intellect as well.

We do not claim for him the gigantic mind that by arranging a few figures and symbols, by the light of a lamp in a garret, could discover a new planet in the solar system, and give its dimensions, weight, and distance from the dome of St. Paul's. Neither do we claim that the power of his intellect, if put forth in a storm of eloquence, could move the masses of his fellow-creatures, as a hurricane stirs up the waters of the sea; yet for all this Golah had a great intellect. He was born to rule, and not a particle of all the propensities and sentiments constituting his mind was ever intended to yield to the will of another.

The cunning old sheik, who had the first claim to the three mids, had been anxious to retain them; but they were also wanted by Golah, and the Arab was compelled to give them up, after having been fairly beaten at the game; parting with his sable competitor in a mood that was anything but agreeable.

The black sheik had three wives, all of whom possessed the gift of eloquence in a high degree.

For all this a simple glance from him was enough to stop any one of them in the middle of a monosyllable.

Even Fatima, the favorite, owed much of her influence to the ability she displayed in studying her lord's wishes to the neglect of her own.

Golah had seven camels, four of which were required for carrying himself and his wives, with their children, trappings, tent utensils, and tents.

The three other camels were laden with the spoils which had been collected from the wreck.

Twelve of the sixteen adults in the company were compelled to walk, being forced to keep up with the camels the best way they could.

One of these was Golah's son, a youth about eighteen years of age. He was armed with a long Moorish musket, a heavy Spanish sword, and the dirk that had been taken from Colin.

He was the principal guard over the slaves, in which duty he was assisted by another youth, whom our adventurers afterwards learnt was a brother of one of Golah's wives.

This second youth was armed with a musket and scimitar, and both he and Golah's son seemed to think that their lives depended on keeping a constant watch over the ten slaves; for there were six others besides Sailor Bill and his young companions. They had all been captured, purchased, or won at play, during Golah's present expedition, and were now on the way to some southern market.

Two of the six were pronounced by Sailor Bill to be Kroomen, – a race of Africans with whose appearance he was somewhat familiar, having often seen them acting as sailors in ships coming from the African coast.

The other slaves were much lighter in complexion, and by the old man-o'-war's-man were called "Portugee blacks." All had the appearance of having spent some time in bondage on the great Saära.

On the first day of their journey the white captives had learnt the relations existing between the majority of the company and the chief Golah; and each of them felt shame as well as indignation at the humiliating position in which he was placed.

Those feelings were partly excited and greatly strengthened by hunger and thirst, as well as by the painful toil they had to undergo in dragging themselves over the sandy plain beneath a scorching sun.

"I have had enough of this," said Harry Blount to his companions. "We might be able to stand it several days longer, but I've no curiosity to learn whether we can or not."

"Go on! you are thinking and speaking for me, Harry," said Terence.

"There are four of us," continued Harry, – "four of that nation whose people boast they never will be slaves; besides, there are six others, who are our fellow-bondsmen. They're not much to look at, but still they might count for something in a row. Shall we four British tars, belong to a party of ten, – all enslaved by three men, – black men at that?"

"That's just what I've been thinking about for the last hour or two," said Terence. "If we don't kill old Golah, and ride off with his camels, we deserve to pass every day of our lives as we're doing this one – in slavery."

"Just say the word, – when and how," cried Harry "I'm waiting. There are seven camels. Let us each take one; but before we go we must eat and drink the other three. I'm starving."

"Pitch on a plan, and I'll pitch into it," rejoined Terence. "I'm ready for anything, – from pitch and toss up to manslaughter."

"Stay, Master Terence," interrupted the old sailor. "Av coorse ye are afther wantin' to do somethin', an' thin to think aftherwards why ye did it. Arry, my lad, yer half out o yer mind. Master Colin be the only yin o' ye that keeps his seven senses about him. Suppose all av ye, that the big chief was dead, an' that his son was not alive, and that the other nager was a ristin' quietly wid his black heels turned from the place where the daisies hought to grow, – what should we do thin? We 'ave neyther chart nor compass. We could'ner mak oot our reckonin'. Don't ye see a voyage here is just like one at sea, only it be just the revarse. When men are starvin' at sea, they want to find land, but when they are starvin' in the desert they want to find water. The big nager, our captain, can navigate this sea in safety, – we can't. We must let him take us to some port and then do the best we can to escape from him."

"You are quite right," said Colin, "in thinking that we might be unable to find our way from one watering-place to another; but it is well for us to calculate all the chances. After reaching some port, as you call it, may we not find ourselves in a position more difficult to escape from, – where we will have to contend with a hundred or more of these negro brutes in place of only three?"

"That's vary likely," answered the sailor; "but they're only men, and we 'av a chance of beatin' 'em. We may fight with men, and conquer 'em, an' we may fight with water an' conquer that; but when we fight against no water that will conquer us. Natur is sure to win."

"Bill's right there," said Terence, "and I feel that Nature is getting the best of me already."

While they were holding this conversation, they noticed that one of the Kroomen kept near them, and seemed listening to all that was said. His sparkling eyes betrayed the greatest interest.

"Do you understand us?" asked old Bill, turning sharply towards the African, and speaking in an angry tone.

"Yus, sa, – a lilly bit," answered the Krooman, without seeming to notice the unpleasant manner in which the question had been put.

"And what are you listening for?"

"To hear what you tell um. I like go in Ingleesh ship. You talk good for me. I go long with you."

With some difficulty the sailor and his companions could comprehend the Krooman's gibberish. They managed to learn from him that he had once been in an English ship, and had made a voyage along the African coast, trading for palm-oil. While on board he had picked up a smattering of English. He was afterwards shipwrecked in a Portuguese brig. Cast away on the shores of the Saära, just as our adventurers had been, and had passed four years in the desert, – a slave to its denizens.

He gratified our adventurers by telling them that they were in no danger of having to endure a prolonged period of captivity, as they would soon be sold into liberty, instead of slavery. Golah could not afford to keep slaves; and was only a kidnapper and dealer in the article. He would sell them to the highest bidder, and that would be some English consul on the coast.

The Krooman said there was no such hope for him and his companions, for their country did not redeem its subjects from slavery.

When he saw that Golah had obtained some English prisoners, he had been cheered with the hope that he might be redeemed along with them, as an English subject, to which right he had some claim from having served on an English ship!

During the day the black slaves – well knowing the duty they were expected to perform, had been gathering pieces of dried camels' dung along the way; this was to supply fuel for the fire of the douar at night.

Soon after sunset Golah ordered a halt, when the camels were unloaded and the tents set up.

About one quarter the quantity of sangleh that each required, was then served out to the slaves for their dinner, and as they had eaten nothing since morning, this article of food appeared to have greatly improved, both in appearance and flavor. To the palate of our adventurers it seemed delicious.

Golah, after examining his human property, and evidently satisfied with the condition of all, retired to his tent; from which soon after issued sounds that resembled a distant thunder-storm.

The black sheik was snoring!

The two young men – his son and brother-in-law – relieved each other during the night in keeping watch over the slaves.

Their vigil was altogether unnecessary. Weak, and exhausted with hunger and fatigue, the thoughts of the captives were not of the future, but of present repose; which was eagerly sought, and readily found, by all four of them.

CHAPTER XLIV.
A DAY OF AGONY

An hour before sunrise the next morning, the slaves were given some cheni to drink, and then started on their journey.

The sun, as it soared up into a cloudless sky, shot forth its rays much warmer than upon the day before, while not a breath of air fanned the sterile plain. The atmosphere was as hot and motionless as the sands under their feet. They were no longer hungry. Thirst – raging, burning thirst – extinguished or deadened every other sensation.

Streams of perspiration poured from their bodies, as they struggled through the yielding sand; yet, with all this moisture streaming from every pore, their throats, tongues, and lips became so parched that any attempt on their part to hold converse only resulted in producing a series of sounds that resembled a death-rattle.

Golah, with his family, rode in the advance, and seemed not to give himself any concern whether he was followed by others or not. His two relatives brought up the rear of the kafila, and any of the slaves exhibiting a disposition to lag behind was admonished to move on with blows administered by a thick stick.

"Tell them I must have water or die," muttered Harry to the Krooman in a hoarse whisper. "I am worth money, and if old Golah lets me die for want of a drop of water, he's a fool."

The Krooman refused to make the communication – which he declared would only result in bringing ill treatment upon himself.

Colin appealed to Golah's son, and by signs gave him to understand that they must have water. The young black, in answer, simply condescended to sneer at him. He was not suffering himself, and could have no sympathy for another.

The hides of the blacks, besmeared with oil, seemed to repel the scorching beams of the sun; and years of continual practice had no doubt inured them to the endurance of hunger and thirst to a surprising degree. To their white fellow-captives they appeared more like huge reptiles than human beings.

The sand along the route on this, the second day, was less compact than before, and the task of leg-lifting, produced a weariness such as might have arisen from the hardest work. Added to the agony of their thirst, the white sufferers dwelt frequently on thoughts of death – that great antidote to human miseries; yet so constrained were their actions by force of circumstances, that only by following their leader and owner, Golah, could they hope to find relief.

Had he allowed them to turn back to the coast, whence they had started, or even to repose for a few hours on the way, they could not have done so. They were compelled to move on, by a power that could not be resisted.

That power was Hope, – the hope of obtaining some sangleh and a little dirty water.

To turn back, or to linger behind, would bring them nothing but more suffering, – perhaps death itself.

A man intent on dying may throw himself into the water to get drowned, and then find himself involuntarily struggling to escape from the death he has courted.

The same irresistible antipathy to death compelled his white captives to follow the black sheik.

They were unwilling to die, – not for the sole reason that they had homes and friends they wished to see again, – not solely for that innate love of life, implanted by Nature in the breasts of all; but there was a pleasure which they desired to experience once more, – aye, yearned to indulge in it: the pleasure of quenching their terrible thirst. To gratify this pleasure they must follow Golah.

One of Golah's wives had three children; and, as each wife was obliged to look after her own offspring, this woman could not pursue her journey without a little more trouble than her less favored companions.

The eldest of her children was too young to walk a long distance; and, most of the time, was carried under her care upon the maherry. Having her three restless imps, to keep balanced upon the back of the camel, requiring her constant vigilance to prevent them from falling off, she found her hands full enough. It was a sort of travelling that did not at all suit her; and she had been casting about for some way of being relieved from at least a portion of her trouble.

The plan she devised was to compel some one of the slaves to carry her eldest child, a boy about four years of age.

Colin was the victim selected for this duty. All the attempts made by the young Scotchman to avoid the responsibilities thus imposed upon him proved vain. The woman was resolute, and Colin had to yield; although he resisted until she threatened to call Golah to her assistance.

This argument was conclusive; and the young darkey was placed upon Colin's shoulders, with its legs around his neck, and one of its hands grasping him tightly by the hair.

When this arrangement was completed, night had drawn near; and the two young men who acted as guards hastened forward to select a place for the douar.

There was no danger of any of the slaves making an attempt to escape; for all were too anxious to receive the small quantity of food that was to be allowed them at the night halt.

Encumbered with the "piccaninny," and wearied with the long, ceaseless struggle through the sand, Colin lingered behind his companions. The mother of the child, apparently attentive to the welfare of her first-born, checked the progress of her maherry, and rode back to him.

After the camels had been unloaded, and the tents pitched, Golah superintended the serving out of their suppers, which consisted only of sangleh. The quantity was even less than had been given the evening before; but it was devoured by the white captives with a pleasure none of them had hitherto experienced.

Sailor Bill declared that the brief time in which he was employed in consuming the few mouthfuls allowed him, was a moment of enjoyment that repaid him for all the sufferings of the day.

"Ah, Master Arry!" said he, "it's only now we are larnin' to live, although I did think, one time to-day, we was just larnin' to die. I never mean to eat again until I'm hungry Master Terry," he added, turning to the young Irishman, "isn't this foine livin' intirely? and are yez not afther bein' happy?"

"'T is the most delicious food man ever ate," answered Terence, "and the only fault I can find is that there is not enough of it."

"Then you may have what is left of mine," said Colin, "for I can't say that I fancy it."

Harry, Terence, and the sailor gazed at the young Scotchman with expressions of mingled alarm and surprise. Small as had been the amount of sangleh with which Colin had been served, he had not eaten more than one half of it.

"Why, puir Maister Colly, what is wrang wi' ye?" exclaimed Bill, in a tone expressing fear and pity. "If ye dinna eat, mon, ye'll dee."

"I'm quite well," answered Colin, "but I have had plenty, and any of you can take what is left."

Though the hunger of Colin's three companions was not half satisfied, they all refused to finish the remainder of his supper, hoping that he might soon find his appetite, and eat it himself.

The pleasure they had enjoyed in eating the small allowance given them rendered it difficult for them to account for the conduct of their companion. His abstemiousness caused them uneasiness, even alarm.