Chapter 64 - The Boy Slaves by Mayne Reid
ANOTHER WHITE SLAVE
On entering within the tent to which they had been directed, they found, lying upon the ground, a man about forty years of age. Although he appeared a mere skeleton, consisting of little more than skin and bones, he did not present the general aspect of a man suffering from ill health; nor yet would he have passed for a white man anywhere out of Africa.
"You are the first English people I've seen for over thirty years," said he, as they entered the tent: "for I can tell by your looks that every one of you are English. You are my countrymen. I was white once myself; and you will be as black as I am when you have been sun-scorched here for forty-three years, as I have been."
"What!" exclaimed Terence; "have you been a slave in the Saära so long as that? If so, God help us! What hope is there of our ever getting free?"
The young Irishman spoke in a tone of despair.
"Very little chance of your ever seeing home again, my lad," answered the invalid; "but I have a chance now, if you and your comrades don't spoil it. For God's sake don't tell these Arabs that they are the fools they are for making salvage of the ballast. If you do, they'll be sure to make an end of me. It's all my doing. I've made them believe the stones are valuable, so that they may take them to some place where I can escape. It is the only chance I have had for years,—don't destroy it, as you value the life of a fellow-countryman."
From further conversation with the man, our adventurers learned that he had been shipwrecked on the coast many years before, and had ever since been trying to get transported to some place where he might be ransomed. He declared that he had been backward and forward across the desert forty or fifty times; and that he had belonged to not less than fifty masters!
"I have only been with these fellows a few weeks," said he, "and fortunately when we came this way we were able to tell where the sunken ship was by seeing her foremast then sticking out of the water. The vessel was in ballast; and the crew probably put out to sea in their boats, without being discovered. It was the first ship my masters had ever heard of without a cargo; and they would not believe but what the stones were such, and must be worth something—else why should they be carried about the world in a ship. I told them it was a kind of stone from which gold was obtained; but that it must be taken to some place where there was plenty of coal or wood, before the gold could be melted out of it, and then intrusted to white men who understood the art of extracting the precious metal from the rocks.
"They believe all this; for they can see shining particles in the sandstone which they think is really gold, or something that can be converted into it. For four days they forced me to toil, at diving and assisting them; but that didn't suit my purpose; and I've at length succeeded in making them believe that I am not able to work any longer."
"But do you really think," asked Harry Blount, "that they will carry the ballast any distance without learning its real value?"
"Yes; I did think that they might take it to Mogador, and that they would let me go along with them."
"But some one will meet them, and tell them that their lading is worthless?" suggested Colin.
"No, I think that fear of losing their valuable freight will keep them from letting any one know what they've got. They are hiding it in the sand now, as fast as they get it ashore, for fear some party stronger than themselves should come along and take it away from them. I intend to tell them after they have started on their journey, not to let any one see or know what they have, until they are safe within the walls of Mogador, where they will be under the protection of the governor. They have promised to take me along with them, and if I once get within sight of a seaport, not all the Arabs in Africa will hinder me from recovering my liberty."
While the pretended invalid was talking to them, Sailor Bill had been watching him, apparently with eager interest.
"Beg pardon for 'aving a small taste o' difference wid you in the mather ov your age," said the sailor, as soon as the man had ceased speaking; "but I'll never belave you've been about 'ere for forty years. It can't be so long as that."
The two men, after staring at each other for a moment, uttered the words "Jim!" "Bill!" and then, springing forward, each grasped the hand of the other. Two brothers had met!
The three mids remembered that Bill had told them of a brother, who, when last heard from, was a slave somewhere in the Saära, and they needed no explanation of the scene now presented to them.
The two brothers were left alone; and after the others had gone out of the tent they returned to the Krooman—who had just succeeded in convincing the sheik, that the stones being fished out of the sunken ship were, at that time and place, of no value whatever.
All attempts on the part of the old sheik to convince the wreckers, as he had been convinced himself, proved fruitless.
The arguments he used to them were repeated to the sailor, Bill's brother; and by him were easily upset with a few words.
"Of course they will try to make you believe the cargo is no good," retorted Jim. "They wish you to leave it, so that they can have it all to themselves. Does not common sense tell you that they are liars?"
This was conclusive; and the wreckers continued their toil, extracting stone after stone out of the hold of the submerged ship.
Sailor Bill, at his brother's request, then summoned his companions to the tent.
"Which of you have been trying to do me an injury?" inquired Jim. "I told you not to say that the stones were worthless."
It was explained to him how the Krooman had been enlightening his master.
"Call the Krooman," said Jim, "and I'll enlighten him. If these Arabs find out that they have been deceived, I shall be killed, and your master—the old sheik—will certainly lose all his property. Tell him to come here also. I must talk to him. Something must be done immediately, or I shall be killed."
The Krooman and the old sheik were conducted into the tent; and Jim talked to them in the Arabic language.
"Leave my masters alone to their folly," said he to the sheik; "and they will be so busy that you can depart in peace. If not, and you convince them that they have been deceived, they will rob you of all you have got. You have already said enough to excite their suspicions, and they will in time learn that I have been humbugging them. My life is no longer safe in their company. You buy me, then; and let us all take our departure immediately."
"Are the stones in the wreck really worth nothing?" asked the sheik.
"No more than the sand on the shore; and when they find out that such is the case, some one will be robbed. They have come to the seacoast to seek wealth, and they will have it one way or the other. They are a tribe of bad men. Buy me, and leave them to continue the task they have so ignorantly undertaken."
"You are not well," replied the sheik; "and if I buy you, you cannot walk."
"Let me ride on a camel until I get out of sight of these my masters," answered Jim; "you will then see whether I can walk or not. They will sell me cheap; for they think I am done up. But I am not; I was only weary of diving after worthless stones."
The old sheik promised to follow Jim's advice; and ordered his companions to prepare immediately for the continuance of their journey.
Sidi Hamet was called, and asked by Rais Abdallah if he would sell some of the stones they had saved from the infidel ship.
"Bismillah! No!" exclaimed the wrecker. "You say they are of no value, and I do not wish to cheat any true believer of the prophet."
"Will you give me some of them, then?"
"No! Allah forbid that Sidi Hamet should ever make a worthless present to a friend!"
"I am a merchant," rejoined the old sheik; "and wish to do business. Have you any slaves, or other property you can sell me?"
"Yes! You see that Christian dog," replied the wrecker, pointing to Sailor Bill's brother; "I will sell him."
"You have promised to take me to Swearah," interrupted Jim. "Do not sell me, master; I think I shall get well some time, and will then work for you as hard as I can."
Sidi Hamet cast upon his infidel slave a look of contempt at this allusion to his illness; but Jim's remark, and the angry glance, were both unheeded by the Arab sheik.
The slave's pretended wishes not to be sold were disregarded; and for the consideration of an old shirt and a small camel-hair tent, he became the property of Rais Abdallah Yezzed.
The old sheik and his followers then betook themselves to their camels; and the kafila was hurried up the dry bed of the river,—leaving the wreckers to continue their toilsome and unprofitable task.