Майн Рид
The Boy Slaves

CHAPTER LXXIII.
ANOTHER BARGAIN

The conversation amongst the Arabs was kept up until a late hour; and during the time it continued, our adventurers were impatiently awaiting the return of the Krooman.

He came at length, after the Arabs had retired to their tents; and all gathered around him, eager to learn what he had heard.

"I find out too much," said he, in answer to their inquiries; "too much, and no much good."

"What was it?"

"Two of you be sold to-morrow."

"What two?"

"No one know. One man examine us all in the morning, but take only two."

After suffering a long lesson teaching the virtue of patience, they learnt from the Krooman that one of those who had been conversing with their masters was a grazier, owning large droves of cattle; and that he had lately been to Swearah.

He had told the merchants that they would not be able to get a large price for their slaves in that place; and that the chances were much against their making more than the actual expenses incurred in so long a journey. He assured the Arab merchants that no Christian consul or foreign merchant in Mogador would pay a dollar more for redeeming six slaves than what they could be made to pay for two or three; that they were not always willing or prepared to pay anything; and that whenever they did redeem a slave, they did not consider his value, but only the time and expense that had been incurred in bringing him to the place.

Under the influence of these representations, the Arab merchants had agreed to sell two of their white slaves to the grazier, – thinking they would get as much for the remaining four as they would by taking all six to the end of the journey.

The owner of the herds was to make his choice in the morning.

"I thought there was a breaker ahead," exclaimed Jim, after the Krooman had concluded his report. "We must not be separated except by liberty or death. Our masters must take us all to Mogador. There is trouble before us yet; but we must be firm, and overcome it. Firmness has saved us once, and may do so again."

After all had promised to be guided in the coming emergency by Jim, they laid themselves along the ground, and sought rest in sleep.

Next morning, while they were eating their breakfast, they were visited by the grazier who was expected to make choice of two of their number.

"Which is the one who speaks Arabic?" he inquired from one of the merchants.

Jim was pointed out, and was at once selected as one of the two to be purchased.

"Tell 'im to buy me, too, Jim," said Bill, "We'll sail in company, you and I, though I don't much like partin' with the young gentlemen here."

"You shall not part either with them or me, if I can help it," answered Jim; "but we must expect some torture. Let all bear it like devils; and don't give in. That's our only chance!"

Glancing his eyes over the other slaves, the grazier selected Terence as the second for whom he was willing to pay a price.

His terms having been accepted by the merchants, they were about concluding the bargain, when they were accosted by Jim.

He assured them that he and his companions were determined to die, before they should be separated, – that none of them would do any work if retained in slavery, – and that all were determined to be taken to Swearah.

The merchants and the buyer only smiled at this interruption; and went on with the negotiation.

In vain did Jim appeal to their cupidity, – reminding them that the merchant, "for God's sake bias," would pay a far higher price for himself and his companions.

His arguments and entreaties failed to change their determination, – the bargain was concluded; and Jim and Terence were made over to their new master.

The merchants then mounted their camels, and ordered the other four to follow them.

Harry Blount, Colin, and Sailor Bill answered this command by sulkily sitting down upon the sand.

Another command from the merchants was given in sharp tones that betrayed their rising wrath.

"Obey them!" exclaimed Jim. "Go on; and Master Terence and I will follow you. We'll stand the brunt of the battle. They shall not hold me here alive!"

Colin and Bill each mounted a donkey, and Harry his camel – the Arab merchants seeming quite satisfied at the result of their slight exhibition of anger.

Jim and Terence attempted to follow them; but their new master was prepared for this; and, at a word of command, several of his followers seized hold of and fast bound both of them.

Jim's threat that they should not hold him alive, had thus proved but an idle boast.

Harry, Colin, and Bill, now turned back, dismounted, and showed their determination to remain with their companions, by sitting down alongside of them.

"These Christian dogs do not wish for liberty!" exclaimed one of the merchants. "Allah forbid that we should force them to accept it. Who will buy them?"

These words completely upset all Jim's plans. He saw that he was depriving the others of the only opportunity they might ever have of obtaining their liberty.

"Go on, go on!" he exclaimed. "Make no further resistance. It is possible they may take you to Mogador. Do not throw away the chance."

"We are not goin' to lave you, Jim," said Bill, "not even for liberty, – leastways, I'm not. Don't you be afeerd of that!"

"Of course we will not, unless we are forced to do so," added Harry. "Have you not said that we must keep together?"

"Have you not all promised to be guided by me?" replied Jim. "I tell you now to make no more resistance. Go on with them if you wish ever to be free!"

"Jim knows what he is about," interposed Colin; "let us obey him."

With some reluctance, Harry and Bill were induced to mount again; but just as they were moving away, they were recalled by Jim, who told them not to leave; and that all must persevere in the determination not to be separated.

"The man has certainly gone mad," reflected Harry Blount, as he turned back once more. "We must no longer be controlled by him; but Terence must not be left behind. We cannot forsake him."

Again the three dismounted, and returning to the spot where Jim and Terence lay fast bound along the sand, sat determinedly down beside them.

CHAPTER LXXIV.
MORE TORTURE

The sudden change of purpose and the counter-orders given by Jim were caused by something he had just heard while listening to the conversation of the Arabs.

Seeing that the merchants, rather than have any unnecessary trouble with them, were disposed to sell them all, Jim had been unwilling to deprive his brother and the others of an opportunity of obtaining their freedom. For this reason had he entreated them to leave Terence and himself to their fate.

But just as he had prevailed on Harry and his companion to go quietly, he learnt from the Arabs that the man who had purchased Terence and himself refused to have any more of them; and also that the other Arabs present were either unable or unwilling to buy them.

The merchants, therefore, would have to take them farther before they could dispose of them.

In Jim's mind then revived the hope that, by opposing the wishes of his late masters, he and Terence might be bought back again and taken on to Mogador.

It was this hope that had induced him to recall his companions after urging them to depart.

A few words explained his apparently strange conduct to Harry and Colin, and they promised to resist every attempt made to take them any farther unless all should go in company.

The merchants in vain commanded and entreated that the Christian dogs should move on. They used threats, and then resorted to blows.

Harry, to whom they had hitherto shown much respect, was beaten until his scanty garments were saturated with blood.

Unwilling to see others suffering so much torture unsupported by any selfish desire, Jim again counselled Harry and the others to yield obedience to their masters.

In this counsel he was warmly seconded by Terence.

But Harry declared his determination not to desert his old shipmate Colin, and Bill remained equally firm under the torture; while the Krooman, knowing that his only chance of liberty depended on remaining true to the white slaves, and keeping in their company, could not be made to yield.

Perceiving that all his entreaties – addressed to his brother, Harry, and Colin – could not put an end to the painful scene he was compelled to witness, Jim strove to effect some purpose by making an appeal to his late masters.

"Buy us back, and take us all to Swearah as you promised," said he. "If you do so, we will go cheerfully as we were doing before. I tell you, you will be well paid for your trouble."

One of the merchants, placing some confidence in the truth of this representation, now offered to buy Jim and Terence on his own account; but their new master refused to part with his newly-acquired property.

A crowd of men, women, and children had now gathered around the spot; and from all sides were heard shouts of "Kill the obstinate Christian 'dogs.' How dare they resist the will of true believers!"

This advice was given by those who had no pecuniary interest in the chattels in question; but the merchants, who had invested a large sum in the purchase of the white slaves, had no idea of making such a sacrifice for the gratification of a mere passion.

There was but one way for them to overcome the difficulty that had so unexpectedly presented itself. This was to separate the slaves by force, taking the four along with them; and leaving the other two to the purchaser who would not revoke his bargain.

To accomplish this, the assistance of the bystanders was required and readily obtained.

Harry was first seized and placed on the back of his camel, to which he was firmly bound.

Colin, Bill, and the Krooman were each set astride of a donkey, and then made fast by having their feet tied under the animal's belly.

For a small sum the merchants then engaged two of the Arabs to accompany them and guard the white slaves to the frontier of the Moorish empire, a distance of two days' journey.

While the party was about to move away from the spot, one of the merchants, addressing himself to Jim, made the following observations.

"Tell the young man, the nephew of the merchant, 'For God's sake bias,' that since we have started for Swearah in the belief that his story is true, we shall now take him there whether he is willing or not, and if he has in anyway deceived us, he shall surely die."

"He has not deceived you," said Jim, "take him and the others there, and you will certainly be paid."

"Then why do they not go willingly?"

"Because they do not wish to leave their friends."

"Ungrateful dogs! cannot they be thankful for their own good fortune? Do they take us for slaves, that we should do their will?"

While the conversation was going on, the other two merchants had headed their animals to the road; and in a minute after Harry Blount and Colin had parted with their old messmate Terence, without a hope of ever meeting him again.

CHAPTER LXXV.
EN ROUTE

And now away for the Moorish frontier.

Away, – trusting that the last hasty promise of the merchant to test their earnest story, and yield to the importunate desires which they had so long cherished, might not be unfulfilled.

Away, – out into the desert again; into that broad, barren wilderness of sand, stretching wearily on as far as eye could reach, and beyond the utmost limit of human steps, where the wild beasts almost fear to tread.

Away, – under the glare of the tropic sun, whose torrid beams fall from heavens that glow like hot walls of brass, and beat down through an atmosphere whose faint undulations in the breath of the desert wind ebb and flow over the parched travellers, like waves of a fiery sea; under a sun that seems to grow ever larger and brighter as the tired eyes, sick with beholding its yellow splendor overflowing all the world, yet turn toward it their fascinated gaze, and faint into burning dryness at its sight.

Away, – from the coolness of city walls, and the dark shadows of narrow, high-built streets, where the sunlight comes only at the height of noon, where men hide within doors as the hot hours draw nigh, and rest in silent chambers, or drowse away the time with tchibouque or narghileh, whose softened odor of the rich Eastern tobacco floats up through perfumed waters and tubes of aromatic woods to leisurely lips, and curls in dim wreaths before restful eyelids half dropping to repose.

Away, – from the association of men in street, lane, bazaar, and market-place. No very profitable or happy association for the poor captives, one might think; and yet not so. For in every group of bystanders, or bevy of passers, they perchance might see him who should prove their angel of deliverance, – a kindly merchant, a new speculator, or even, by some event of gracious fortune, a countryman or a friend.

Away, – from all that they had borne and hoped, and borne and seen and suffered, into the desert whose paths lay invisible to them, mapped out in the keen intellects of their guides and guards, who read the streaming sand of Saära as sailors read the wilds of sweeping seas, but whose dusky faces, as inscrutable as the barren wastes, revealed no trace of the secret of the path they led, – whether indeed the great Moorish Empire were their destination, or whether they turned their steps to some unknown and untried goal.

Away, – from the hum of business, from the gossip of idlers and the staid speech of a city into the silence of the vast desolation wherein they moved, the only reasoning, thinking beings it contained. Silence all around, unbroken save by the smothered tread of the beasts in their little train, the shouts of the drivers, the chattering of the attendants, the rattling of harness and burdens, and the soft sough of the sand as it sank back into the hot level from which the passing hoofs had disturbed it.

Away, away, – and who shall attempt to paint the feelings of the captives as their wanderings began again? It would need a brilliant pen to convey the sensations with which the voyageur, eager for scenes of adventure and fresh from the hived-up haunts of civilization, would enter upon a desert jaunt, to whom all was full of novelty and interest, whose companions were subjects for curious study, speaking in accents the unfamiliar Oriental cadence of which fell pleasantly upon his ear, and who found in every hour some fresh cause for wonder or pleasure. But a pen of marvellous power and pathos must be invoked to portray the mingled emotions that swayed in swift succession the minds of our Boy Slaves! No charm existed for them in the strangeness of desert scenery, Arab comradeship, and the murmur of Eastern tongues; they had long passed the time for that, while their bitter familiarity with all these made even a deep revulsion of feeling in their sorely tried souls. Hope, fear, doubt, fatigue, anxious yearning, and vague despair, – all in turn swept through their thoughts, even as the dust of their pitiless pathway swept over their scorched faces, and covered with effacing monotony every vestige of their passage. Mine is no such potent pen, and so let us leave them, bound to their beasts of burden, going down from the abodes of men into the depths again; and so let us leave them, journeying ever onward, – away, away!

CHAPTER LXXVI.
HOPE DEFERRED

For the first hour of their journey, Harry, Colin, and Sailor Bill, were borne along fast bound upon the backs of their animals. So disagreeable did they find this mode of locomotion, that the Krooman was requested to inform their masters, that they were willing to accompany them without further opposition, if allowed the freedom of their limbs, this was the first occasion on which the Krooman had made known to the Arab merchants that he could speak their language.

After receiving a few curses and blows for having so long concealed his knowledge of it, the slaves were unbound, and the animals they bestrode were driven along in advance of the others, while the two hired guards were ordered to keep a short watch over them.

The journey was continued until a late hour of the night; when they reached the gate of a high wall enclosing a small town.

Here a long parley ensued, and at first the party seemed likely to be turned back upon their steps to pass the night in the desert, but at last the guardians of the village, being satisfied with the representations of the Arabs, unbarred the portals and let them enter.

After the slaves had been conducted inside, and the gate fastened behind them, their masters, relieved of all anxiety about losing their property, accepted the hospitality of the sheik of the village, and took their departure for his house, directing only that the white slaves should be fed.

After the latter had eaten a hearty meal, consisting of barley-bread and milk; they were conducted to a pen, which they were told was to be their sleeping-place, and there they passed the greater part of the night in fighting fleas.

Never before had either of them encountered these insects, either so large in size or of so keen appetites.

It was but at the hour at which their journey should have been resumed, that they forgot their hopes and cares in the repose of sleep. Weary in body and soul, they slept on till a late hour; and when aroused to consciousness by an Arab bringing some food, they were surprised to see that the sun was high up in the heavens.

Why had they not been awakened before?

Why this delay?

In the mind of each was an instinctive fear that there must be something wrong, – that some other obstacle had arisen, blocking up their road to freedom. Hours passed, and their masters came not near them.

They remained in much anxiety, vainly endeavoring to surmise what had caused the interruption to their journey.

Knowing that the merchants had expressed an intention to conduct them to Mogador as soon as possible, they could not doubt but what the delay arose from some cause affecting their own welfare.

Late in the afternoon they were visited by their masters; and in that interview their worst fears were more than realized.

By the aid of the Krooman, one of the merchants informed Harry that they had been deceived, – that the sheik, of whose hospitality they had been partaking, had often visited Swearah, and was acquainted with all the foreign residents there. He had told them that there was no one of the name "For God sake byas."

He had assured them that they were being imposed upon; and that by taking the white slaves to Swearah, they would certainly lose them.

"We shall not kill you," said one of the masters to Harry, "for we have not had the trouble of carrying you the whole distance; and besides, we should be injuring ourselves. We shall take you all to the borders of the desert, and there sell you for what you will fetch."

Harry told the Krooman to inform his masters that he had freely pledged his existence on the truth of the story he had told them; that he certainly had an uncle and friend in Mogador, who would redeem them all; but that, should his uncle not be in Swearah at the time they should arrive there, it would make no difference, as they would certainly be ransomed by the English Consul. "Tell them," added Harry, "that if they will take us to Swearah, and we are not ransomed as I promised, they shall be welcome to take my life. I will then willingly die. Tell them not to sell us until they have proved my words false; and not to injure themselves and us by trusting too much to the words of another."

To this communication the merchants made reply: – That they had been told that slaves brought from the desert into the Empire of Morocco could, and sometimes did, claim the protection of the government, which set them free without paying anything; and those who were at the expense of bringing them obtained nothing for their trouble.

One of the merchants, whose name was Bo Musem, seemed inclined to listen with some favor to the representations of Harry; but he was overruled by the other two, so that all his assertions about the wealth of his parents at home, and the immense worth he and his comrades were to this country, as officers in its navy, failed to convince his masters that they would be redeemed.

The merchants at length went away, leaving Harry and Colin in an agony of despair; while Sailor Bill and the Krooman seemed wholly indifferent as to their future fate. The prospect of being again taken to the desert, seemed to have so benumbed the intellect of both, as to leave them incapable of emotion.

Hope, fear, and energy seemed to have forsaken the old sailor, who, usually so fond of thinking aloud, had not now sufficient spirit left, even for the anathematizing of his enemies.