In which Danger looms very Dark in and around the Pirate City.
About this time four vessels entered the port of Algiers. One was a French man-of-war with a British merchantman as a prize. The other was an Algerine felucca with a Sicilian brig which she had captured along with her crew of twenty men.
There were a number of men, women, and children on board the Frenchman’s prize, all of whom, when informed of the port into which they had been taken, were thrown into a state of the utmost consternation, giving themselves up for lost—doomed to slavery for the remainder of their lives,—for the piratical character of the Algerines was well-known and much dreaded in those days by all the maritime nations. Newspapers and general knowledge, however, were not so prevalent then as now, and for a thousand Englishmen of the uneducated classes who knew that the Algerines were cruel pirates, probably not more than two or three were aware of the fact that England paid tribute to Algiers, and was represented at her Court by a consul. The crew of the prize, therefore, were raised from the lowest depths of despair to the highest heights of extravagant joy on hearing that they were free, and their gratitude knew no bounds when the consul sent Ted Flaggan and Rais Ali to conduct them from the Marina to his own town residence, where beds and board, attendance and consolation, were hospitably provided for them. We might add with truth that they were also provided with amusement, inasmuch as Ted Flaggan allowed the effervescence of his sympathetic spirit and wayward fancy to flow over in long discourses on Algerine piracy and practice in general, in comparison with which the “Arabian Nights” is tameness itself.
With the poor Sicilian captives, however, the case was very different, for the felucca which brought them in brought also a report that the Sicilian government had behaved very brutally to some Algerines whom they had captured. The immediate result was that all the Sicilian captives then in Algeria were ordered to be heavily ironed and put to the severest work at the quarries and on the fortifications, while some of the most refractory among them were beaten to death, and others were thrown upon the large hooks outside the town-wall, or crucified.
To the latter death Francisco Rimini and his sons were condemned, and it is certain that the sentence would have been carried into immediate effect—for legal processes among the pirates were short, and judicial action was sharp—had not an event occurred which arrested for a brief period the hand of piratical justice.
This event was the arrival of a Sicilian priest, who was commissioned to treat for the exchange of prisoners and the ransom of a certain number of Sicilian slaves. The ransom of these slaves varied much according to their position, but a very common price demanded and paid was from 200 pounds to 400 pounds sterling. Of course noblemen, bankers, wealthy merchants, etcetera, were rated much higher than others, but not too high to render their ransom impossible, for the Algerines were adepts at this species of traffic, having been engaged in it more or less for several centuries! As the settlement of these ransoms, and the ascertaining as to who were the fortunate ones whose friends had succeeded in raising the necessary funds, required time, the execution of the Riminis and other Sicilians was, as we have said, delayed.
When Paulina and her sister heard of the arrival of the priest, they flew into each other’s arms, never doubting that the husband of the former must have at last raised the required sum for their ransom, but on being reminded that the priest was commissioned to redeem only captives of Sicily, they sat down and relieved themselves by giving way to floods of tears. Paulina, however, soon comforted herself by kissing her baby, and Angela consoled herself with the reflection that, at all events, Mariano and his father and brother would be ransomed, which, she naturally argued, would enable the first to move heaven and earth in order to effect the ransom of herself, and sister also. She did not know, poor girl, of the dreadful fate to which her lover was already doomed, for the consul, although aware of it, could not prevent it, and had not the heart to tell her.
Previous to this event the British consul had endeavoured to use his influence to bring about peace between the Algerines and Sicilians, but the former, having no desire for peace, made the terms such as could not be agreed to, namely, that the Sicilians should pay them 450 pounds before any negotiations for peace should be entered on. The rejection of this proposal did not, of course, facilitate the arrangements that were now being made, and when Omar demanded that, in cases of exchange of prisoners, two Algerines should be returned for each Sicilian slave set free, it was seen that the prospect of a speedy termination of hostilities was not bright.
After some days spent in useless discussion, the worthy priest was obliged to return home without accomplishing his mission.
One good result, however, followed. Those captives who had been condemned to death, and for whom ransoms had been offered, were reprieved; nevertheless, they were treated with cruel severity. Of course the unfortunates for whom no ransom had been offered were treated with the utmost rigour, and the sentences of such as had been condemned to die were ordered to be carried out. In the case of poor Mariano the sentence was altered, for that headstrong youth had in his despair made such a fierce assault on his jailers that, despite his chains, he had well-nigh strangled three of them before he was effectually secured. He was therefore condemned to be buried alive in one of the huge square blocks of concrete with which the walls of a part of the fortifications were being strengthened. (See Note 1.)
While these things were pending, very different scenes were taking place at the French consulate, for great preparations were going on for a mask-ball which was about to take place there.
It may, perhaps, appear strange to some readers that any one could have the heart to engage in gaieties in the midst of such horrible scenes of injustice, cruelty, and death, but it must be remembered that human beings have a wonderful capacity for becoming used and indifferent to circumstances the most peculiar—as all history assures us—and it must also be borne in remembrance that the unfortunate Sicilian captives, whose sorrows and sufferings we have tried to depict, were a mere fraction of the community in the midst of which they suffered. It is probable that the great body of the people in Algiers at that time knew little, and cared less, about the Riminis and their brethren.
Since the reconciliation of the English and French Consuls, at the time when the representative of Denmark was rescued, the Frenchman had displayed great cordiality to the Briton—not only accepting the invitations which before he had refused, but drinking with apparent enthusiasm to the health of the English king, on the occasion of a dinner given in celebration of that monarch’s birthday at the British consulate.
The mask-ball was a very great affair indeed when it came off—which it did at the country residence of the French consul. The mansion, which was Mauresque in style, was splendidly decorated with flags of various nations, and the skiffa, with its sparkling fountain and graceful palmettas, was a perfect blaze of variegated lamps. These hung amid the foliage of the creepers that twined round the curved marble pillars, and their red garish light contrasted powerfully with the clear purity of the star-lit sky, which formed the natural roof of the skiffa.
The grounds around the consulate were also decorated and lighted up with the taste for which the French are peculiarly noted.
Of course all the consuls were invited, with their respective families, and were present, with the exception of Mrs Langley, who happened to be indisposed, and Agnes, who stayed at home to nurse her mother. As an affair of the kind involved a good deal of laxity of what may be styled domestic discipline, many of the superior servants were also permitted to stroll about the grounds in fancy costumes. The consuls themselves appeared in their proper uniforms, but some of the members of their households displayed themselves in forms and aspects which we find it difficult to describe, while others of the guests habited themselves in the skins, and gave themselves the airs, of wild beasts of the forest.
There were wild-boars from the Jurjura Hills, overgrown monkeys from the gorge of “la Chiffa,” lions from Mount Atlas, and panthers from the Zahara, besides other nondescript creatures from nowhere. But these were a mere sprinkling in the gay scene of richly dressed ladies and gentlemen, among whom, strange to say, were not a few Christian slaves! These last were Italian and Portuguese officers who had been captured by the Algerines at various times. Had they been taken by civilised peoples, they would have been deemed prisoners of war, and treated as such, but the pirates styled them slaves, and would certainly have treated them as beasts of burden—as they treated hundreds of their countrymen—but for the fact that they had friends at home who paid an annual sum to purchase for them exemption from such drudgery. Having nothing to do, and no means of escaping, these unfortunate men did what they could to mitigate the woes of their brethren—though they were not allowed to do much—and entered more or less into the society and amusements of the city. Hence, though liable at any moment to be put in chains, or sent to the quarries, or even slain by their savage captors, they were to be found waltzing at the fancy ball of the French consul!
Among those who cut a very conspicuous—we may venture to say a beastly—figure that night was our friend Ted Flaggan. The eccentric tar, desiring to enjoy the ball under the shelter of a mask which would preserve his incognito, had, with the aid of Rais Ali, provided himself with the complete skin of a wild-boar, including the head with its enormous tusks, and, having fitted it to his person, and practised a variety of appropriate antics, to the delight of Agnes, who was the only person besides Rais admitted to his secret, he felt himself to be quite up in his part—almost fitted to hold converse with the veritable denizens of the forest.
Flaggan had arranged that he was to put on the boar-dress in the town residence of Rais Ali. Being unwilling to attract the attention of the populace by passing through the streets, in broad daylight, he determined to postpone his advent to an advanced part of the evening.
It was a clear, calm night when he left the country residence of the British consul, with a crescent moon to light him on his way. He had just issued from the garden gate, when an old man, clad in a half-monkish robe, advanced, towards him with strides that would have done credit to a dragoon.
“I’ve me doubts that yer not so ancient as ye look, owld feller,” he said, eyeing the man keenly as he drew near, and moving the head of the thick stick, which, as usual, rested in his pocket, as if to hold it in readiness for instant action.
“Be the Breetish consul at home?” said the old man in broken English and in breathless haste.
“Not at present,” answered the seaman quickly, for he now saw that the man was really old, and that anxiety had given him strength to exert himself beyond his ordinary powers, “but I’m goin’ to meet him—bein’, if I may so spake, his edgedukong. Av you’ve anything in the world to say to his Excellency I’m your man to carry the message.”
“You are Breetish sailor, I zee,” returned the old man, sitting down and heaving a deep sigh, as if unable to recover breath. “You will onderstan’ when I say your Lord Exmouth do come quickly for bombard de city!”
“Onderstand you—is it?” exclaimed Ted, with sudden excitement. “Faix do I, but I don’t belave ye.”
“Man!” said the other, with an earnest look, “doos you tink I come here like dis for tell do Breetish consul a lie!”
“Shure yer right, an’ I’m a goose,” exclaimed the tar, becoming still more excited; “but are ’ee sure yer not mistaken, owld man?”
“Quite sure. Listen. Go, tell consul dat one boat come shore at Pointe Pescade, find me dere, capture me—carry me off. It was fishin’ boat in Breetish pay. Dey find out who I be. Give leave to go shore again, and warn Breetish consul to look out, for Turk ver’ savage when him hear of dis. Lord Exmouth, wid large fleet come straight to Algiers, for delivrin’ all slaves, an’ blow up de city.”
“Hurrah!” shouted Flaggan, in a subdued voice, while he unpocketed the cudgel and twirled it over his head. “Good luck to ’ee, owld man. I’m off to tell the consul. Go in here an’ they’ll give ’ee some grub. Say I sent ’ee.—But, hallo!” he added, when on the point of starting, “what’s yer name?”
“The Padre Giovanni,” replied the old man.
“Och! it’s mesilf has heard of ’ee,” cried the seaman, as he turned and dashed down the road leading to the city. So energetic was he in his motions, and so quick was his pace, on reaching Bab-el-Oued gate, that the guard—a young soldier, lately arrived from Turkey—became suspicious, and ventured to intercept him.
Flaggan was in no humour to be stopped, or even spoken with. He made an attempt to force past, which caused the soldier to present his piece at him. Hereupon Ted drew forth his cudgel, hit the Turk a Donnybrookian whack over the skull that laid him flat on the ground, and took to his heels.
The rest of the guard, who saw this little incident and recognised the now well-known seaman, instantly gave chase; but Ted was too active for them. He doubled down a narrow street on his left, and in five minutes was beyond their reach. He knew now that nothing but prompt action could save him from immediate arrest and probable castigation. He therefore went straight to Rais Ali’s house, and was admitted by an old negress.
Arraying himself in the skin of the wild boar, he attempted to cover himself with an Arab burnous, but, do what he could, he found it impossible to draw the hood over him in such a way as to conceal the head of the boar, and after his recent es............