Kitabı oku: «The Boy Slaves», sayfa 20
CHAPTER LXVI.
SAILOR BILL'S BROTHER
After leaving the coast, the travellers kept at a quick pace, and Sailor Bill and his brother had but little opportunity of holding converse together. When the douar had been pitched for the night, the old salt and the "young gentlemen," his companions, gathered around the man whose experience in the miseries of Saäran slavery so far exceeded their own.
"Now, Jim," began the old man-o'-war's-man, "you must spin us the yarn of all your cruising since you've been here. We've seen somethin' o' the elephant since we've been cast ashore, and that's not long. I don't wonder at you sayin' you 'ave been aboard this craft forty-three years."
"Yes, that is the correct time according to my reckoning," interrupted Jim; "but, Bill, you don't look much older than when I saw you last. How long ago was it?"
"About eleven years."
"Eleven years! I tell you that I've been here over forty."
"'Ow can that be?" asked Bill. "Daze it, man, you'll not be forty years old till the fourteenth o' the next month. You 'ave lost yer senses, an' in troth, it an't no wonder!"
"That is true, for there is nothing in the Saära to help a man keep his reckoning. There are no seasons; and every day is as like another as two seconds in the same minute. But surely I must have been here for more than eleven years."
"No," answered Bill, "ye 'ave no been here only a wee bit langer than tin; but afther all ye must 'ave suffered in that time, it is quare that ye should a know'd me at all, at all."
"I did not know you until you spoke," rejoined Jim "Then I couldn't doubt that it was you who stood before me, when I heard our father's broad Scotch, our mother's Irish brogue, and the talk of the cockneys amongst whom your earliest days were passed, all mingled together."
"You see, Master Colly," said Bill, turning to the young Scotchman. "My brother Jim has had the advantage of being twelve years younger than I; and when he was old enough to go to school, I was doing something to help kape 'im there, and for all that I believe he is plased to see me."
"Pleased to see you!" exclaimed Jim. "Of course I am."
"I'm sure av it," said Bill.
"Well, then, brother, go ahead, an' spin us your yarn."
"I have no one yarn to spin," replied Jim, "for a narrative of my adventures in the desert would consist of a thousand yarns, each giving a description of some severe suffering or disappointment. I can only tell you that it seems to me that I have passed many years in travelling through the sands of the Saära, years in cultivating barley on its borders, years in digging wells, and years in attending flocks of goats, sheep, and other animals. I have had many masters, – all bad, and some worse, – and I have had many cruel disappointments about regaining my liberty. I was once within a single day's journey of Mogador, and was then sold again and carried back into the very heart of the desert. I have attempted two or three times to escape; but was recaptured each time, and nearly killed for the unpardonable dishonesty of trying to rob my master of my own person. I have often been tempted to commit suicide; but a sort of womanly curiosity and stubbornness has prevented me. I wished to see how long Fortune would persecute me, and I was determined not to thwart her plans by putting myself beyond their reach. I did not like to give in, for any one who tries to escape from trouble by killing himself, shows that he has come off sadly worsted in the war of life."
"You are quite right," said Harry Blount; "but I hope that your hardest battles in that war are now over. Our masters have promised to carry us to some place where we may be ransomed by our countrymen, and you of course will be taken along with us."
"Do not flatter yourselves with that hope," said Jim. "I was amused with it for several years. Every master I have had gave me the same promise, and here I am yet. I did think when my late owners were saving the stones from the wreck, that I could get them to enter the walls of some seaport town, and that possibly they might take me along with them. But that hope has proved as delusive as all others I have entertained since shipwrecked on the shore of this accursed country. I believe there are a few who are fortunate enough to regain their liberty; but the majority of sailors cast away on the Saäran coast never have the good fortune to get away from it. They die under the hardships and ill-treatment to which they are exposed upon the desert – without leaving a trace of their existence any more than the dogs or camels belonging to their common masters.
"You have asked me to give an account of my life since I have been shipwrecked. I cannot do that; but I shall give you an easy rule by which you may know all about it. We will suppose you have all been three months in the Saära, and Bill here says that I have been here ten years; therefore I have experienced about forty times as long a period of slavery as one of yourselves. Now, multiply the sum total of your sufferings by forty, and you will have some idea of what I have undergone.
"You have probably witnessed some scenes of heartless cruelty – scenes that shocked and wounded the most sensitive feelings of your nature. I have witnessed forty times as many. While suffering the agonies of thirst and hunger, you may have prayed for death as a relief to your anguish. Where such have been your circumstances once, they have been mine for forty times.
"You may have had some bright hopes of escaping, and once more revisiting your native land; and then have experienced the bitterness of disappointment. In this way I have suffered forty times as much as any one of you."
Sailor Bill and the young gentlemen, – who had been for several days under the pleasant hallucination that they were on the high road to freedom, – were again awakened to a true sense of their situation by the words of a man far more experienced than they in the deceitful ways of the desert.
Before separating for the night, the three mids learnt from Bill and his brother that the latter had been first officer of the ship that had brought him to the coast. They could perceive by his conversation that he was an intelligent man, – one whose natural abilities and artificial acquirements were far superior to those of their shipmate, – the old man-of-war's-man.
"If such an accomplished individual," reasoned they, "has been for ten years a slave in the Saära, unable to escape or reach any place where his liberty might be restored, what hope is there for us?"
CHAPTER LXVII.
A LIVING STREAM
Every hour of the journey presented some additional evidence that the kafila was leaving the great desert behind, and drawing near a land that might be considered fertile.
On the day after parting from the wreckers a walled town was reached, and near it, on the sides of some of the hills, were seen growing a few patches of barley.
At this place the caravan rested for the remainder of the day. The camels and horses were furnished with a good supply of food, and water drawn from deep wells. It was the best our adventurers had drunk since being cast away on the African coast.
Next morning the journey was continued.
After they had been on the road about two hours, the old sheik and a companion, riding in advance of the others, stopped before what seemed, in the distance, a broad stream of water.
All hastened forward, and the Boy Slaves beheld a sight that filled them with much surprise and considerable alarm. It was a stream, – a stream of living creatures moving over the plain.
It was a migration of insects, – the famed locusts of Africa.
They were young ones, – not yet able to fly; and for some reason, unknown perhaps even to themselves, they were taking this grand journey.
Their march seemed conducted in regular order, and under strict discipline.
They formed a living moving belt of considerable breadth, the sides of which appeared as straight as any line mathematical science could have drawn.
Not one could be seen straggling from the main body, which was moving along a track too narrow for their numbers, – scarce half of them having room on the sand, while the other half were crawling along on the backs of their compagnons du voyage.
Even the Arabs appeared interested in this African mystery, and paused for a few minutes to watch the progress of the glittering stream presented by these singular insects.
The old sheik dismounted from his camel; and with his scimitar broke the straight line formed by the border of the moving mass – sweeping them off to one side.
The space was instantly filled up again by those advancing from behind, and the straight edge restored, the insects crawling onward without the slightest deviation.
The sight was not new to Sailor Bill's brother. He informed his companions that should a fire be kindled on their line of march, the insects, instead of attempting to pass around it, would move right into its midst until it should become extinguished with their dead bodies.
After amusing himself for a few moments in observing these insects, the sheik mounted his camel, and, followed by the kafila, commenced moving through the living stream.
A hoof could not be put down without crushing a score of the creatures; but immediately on the hoof being lifted, the space was filled with as many as had been destroyed!
Some of the slaves, with their naked feet, did not like wading through this living crawling stream. It was necessary to use force to compel them to pass over it.
After looking right and left, and seeing no end to the column of insects, our adventurers made a rush, and ran clear across it.
At every step their feet fell with a crunching sound, and were raised again, streaming with the blood of the mangled locusts.
The belt of the migratory insects was about sixty yards in breadth; yet, short as was the distance, the Boy Slaves declared that it was more disagreeable to pass over than any ten miles of the desert they had previously traversed.
One of the blacks, determined to make the crossing as brief as possible, started in a rapid run. When about half way through, his foot slipped, and he fell full length amidst the crowd of creepers.
Before he could regain his feet, hundreds of the disgusting insects had mounted upon him, clinging to his clothes, and almost smothering him by their numbers.
Overcome by disgust, horror, and fear, he was unable to rise; and two of his black companions were ordered to drag him out of the disagreeable company into which he had stumbled.
After being rescued and delivered from the clutch of the locusts, it was many minutes before he recovered his composure of mind, along with sufficient nerve to resume his journey.
Sailor Bill had not made the crossing along with the others; and for some time resisted all the attempts of the Arabs to force him over the insect stream.
Two of them at length laid hold of him; and, after dragging him some paces into the crawling crowd, left him to himself.
Being thus brought in actual contact with the insects, the old sailor saw that the quickest way of getting out of the scrape was to cross over to the other side.
This he proceeded to do in the least time, and with the greatest possible noise. His paces were long, and made with wonderful rapidity; and each time his foot came to the ground, he uttered a horrible yell, as though it had been planted upon a sheet of red-hot iron.
Bill's brother had now so far recovered from his feigned illness, that he was able to walk along with the Boy Slaves.
Naturally conversing about the locusts, he informed his companions, that the year before he had been upon a part of the Saäran coast where a cloud of these insects had been driven out to sea by a storm, and drowned. They were afterwards washed ashore in heaps; the effluvia from which became so offensive that the fields of barley near the shore could not be harvested, and many hundred acres of the crop were wholly lost to the owners.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
THE ARABS AT HOME
Soon after encountering the locusts, the kafila came upon a well-beaten road, running through a fertile country, where hundreds of acres of barley could be seen growing on both sides.
That evening, for some reason unknown to the slaves, their masters did not halt at the usual hour. They saw many walled villages, where dwelt the proprietors of the barley fields; but hurried past them without stopping either for water or food – although their slaves were sadly in need of both.
In vain the latter complained of thirst, and begged for water. The only reply to their entreaties was a harsh command to move on faster, frequently followed by a blow.
Towards midnight, when the hopes and strength of all were nearly exhausted, the kafila arrived at a walled village, where a gate was opened to admit his slaves. The old sheik then informed them that they should have plenty of food and drink, and would be allowed to rest for two or three days in the village.
A quantity of water was then thickened with barley meal; and of this diet they were permitted to have as much as they could consume.
It was after night when they entered the gate of the village, and nothing could be seen. Next morning they found themselves in the centre of a square enclosure surrounded by about twenty houses, standing within a high wall. Flocks of sheep and goats, with a number of horses, camels, and donkeys, were also within the inclosure.
Jim informed his companions that most of the Saäran Arabs have fixed habitations, where they dwell the greater part of the year, – generally walled towns, such as the one they had now entered.
The wall is intended for a protection against robbers, at the same time that it serves as a pen to keep their flocks from straying or trespassing on the cultivated fields during the night time.
It was soon discovered that the Arabs had arrived at their home; for as soon as day broke, they were seen in company with their wives and families. This accounted for their not making halt at any of the other villages. Being so near their own, they had made an effort to reach it without extending their journey into another day.
"I fear we are in the hands of the wrong masters for obtaining our freedom," said Jim to his companions. "If they were traders, they might take us farther north and sell us; but it's clear they are not! They are graziers, farmers, and robbers, when the chance arises, – that's what they be! While waiting for their barley to ripen, they have been on a raiding expedition to the desert, in the hope of capturing a few slaves, to assist them in reaping their harvest."
Jim's conjecture was soon after found to be correct. On the old sheik being asked when he intended taking his slaves on to Swearah, he answered: —
"Our barley is now ripe, and we must not leave it to spoil. You must help us in the harvest, and that will enable us to go to Swearah all the sooner."
"Do you really intend to take your slaves to Swearah?" asked the Krooman.
"Certainly!" replied the sheik. "Have we not promised? But we cannot leave our fields now. Bismillah! our grain must be gathered."
"It is just as I supposed," said Jim. "They will promise anything. They do not intend taking us to Mogador at all. The same promise has been made to me by the same sort of people a score of times."
"What shall we do?" asked Terence.
"We must do nothing," answered Jim. "We must not assist them in any way, for the more useful we are to them the more reluctant they will be to part with us. I should have obtained my liberty years ago, had I not tried to gain the good-will of my Arab masters, by trying to make myself useful to them. That was a mistake, and I can see it now. We must not give them the slightest assistance in their barley-cutting."
"But they will compel us to help them?" suggested Colin.
"They cannot do that if we remain resolute; and I tell you all that you had better be killed at once than submit. If we assist in their harvest, they will find something else for us to do, and your best days, as mine have been, will be passed in slavery! Each of you must make himself a burden and expense to whoever owns him, and then we may be passed over to some trader who has been to Mogador, and knows that he can make money by taking us there to be redeemed. That is our only chance. These Arabs don't know that we are sure to be purchased for a good price in any large seaport town, and they will not run any risk in taking us there. Furthermore, these men are outlaws, desert robbers, and I don't believe that they dare enter the Moorish dominions. We must get transferred to other hands, and the only way to do that is to refuse work."
Our adventurers agreed to be guided by Jim's counsels, although confident that they would experience much difficulty in following them.
Early on the morning of the second day after the Arabs reached their home, all the slaves, both white and black, were roused from their slumbers; and after a spare breakfast of barley-gruel, were commanded to follow their masters to the grain fields, outside the walls of the town.
"Do you want us to work?" asked Jim, addressing himself directly to the old sheik.
"Bismillah! Yes!" exclaimed the Arab. "We have kept you too long in idleness. What have you done, or who are you, that we should maintain you? You must work for your living, as we do ourselves!"
"We cannot do anything on land," said Jim. "We are sailors, and have only learnt to work on board a ship."
"By Allah, you will soon learn! Come, follow us to the barley fields!"
"No; we have all agreed to die rather than work for you! You promised to take us to Swearah; and we will go there or die. We will not be slaves any longer!"
Most of the Arabs, with their wives and children, had now assembled around the white men, who were ordered instantly to move on.
"It will not do for us to say we will not or can't move on," said Jim, speaking to his companions in English. "We must go to the field. They can make us do that; but they can't make us work. Go quietly to the field; but don't make yourselves useful when you get there."
This advice was followed; and the Boy Slaves soon found themselves by the side of a large patch of barley, ready for the reaping-hook. A sickle of French manufacture was then placed in the hands of each, and they were instructed how to use them.
"Never mind," said Jim. "Go to work with a will, mates! We'll show them a specimen of how reaping is done aboard ship!"
Jim proceeded to set an example by cutting the grain in a careless manner – letting the heads fall in every direction, and then trampling them under foot as he moved on.
The same plan was pursued by his brother Bill, the Krooman, and Harry Blount.
In the first attempt to use the sickle, Terence was so awkward as to fall forward and break the implement into two pieces.
Colin behaved no better: since he managed to cut one of his fingers, and then apparently fainted away at the sight of the blood.
The forenoon was passed by the Arabs in trying to train their slaves to the work, but in this they were sadly unsuccessful.
Curses, threats, and blows were expended upon them to no purpose, for the Christian dogs seemed only capable of doing much harm and no good. During the afternoon they were allowed to lie idle upon the ground, and watch their masters cutting the barley; although this indulgence was purchased at the expense of lacerated skins and aching bones. Nor was this triumph without the cost of further suffering: for they were not allowed a mouthful of food or a drop of water, although an abundance of both had been distributed to the other laborers in the field.
All five, however, remained obstinate; withstanding hunger and thirst, threats, cursings, and stripes, – each one disdaining to be the first to yield to the wishes of their Arab masters.
CHAPTER LXIX.
WORK OR DIE
That night, after being driven within the walls of the town, the white slaves, along with their guard and the Krooman, were fastened in a large stone building partly in ruins, that had been recently used as a goat-pen.
They were not allowed a mouthful of food nor a drop of water, and sentinels walked around all night to prevent them from breaking out of their prison.
No longer targets for the beams of a blazing sun, they were partly relieved from their sufferings; but a few handfuls of barley they had managed to secrete and bring in from the field, proved only sufficient to sharpen an appetite which they could devise no means of appeasing.
A raging thirst prevented them from having much sleep; and, on being turned out next morning, and ordered back to the barley fields, weak with hunger and want of sleep, they were strongly tempted to yield obedience to their masters.
The black slaves had worked well the day before; and, having satisfied their masters, had received plenty of food and drink.
Their white companions in misery saw them eating their breakfast before being ordered to the field.
"Jim," said Sailor Bill, "I've 'alf a mind to give in. I must 'ave somethin' to heat an' drink. I'm starvin' all over."
"Don't think of it, William," said his brother. "Unless you wish to remain for years in slavery, as I have done, you must not yield. Our only hope of obtaining liberty is to give the Arabs but one chance of making anything by us, – the chance of selling us to our countrymen. They won't let us die, – don't think it! We are worth too much for that. They will try to make us work if they can; but we are fools if we let them succeed."
Again being driven to the field, another attempt was made by the Arabs to get some service out of them.
"We can do nothing now," said Jim to the old sheik; "we are dying with hunger and thirst. Our life has always been on the sea, and we can do nothing on land."
"There is plenty of food for those who earn it," rejoined the sheik; "and we cannot give those food who do not deserve it."
"Then give us some water."
"Allah forbid! We are not your servants to carry water for you."
All attempts to make the white slaves perform their task having failed, they were ordered to sit down in the hot sun; where they were tantalized with the sight of the food and water of which they were not permitted to taste.
During the forenoon of the day, all the eloquence Jim could command was required to prevent his brother from yielding. The old man-o'-war's-man was tortured by extreme thirst, and was once or twice on the eve of selling himself in exchange for a cooling draught.
Long years of suffering on the desert had inured Jim to its hardships; and not so strongly tempted as the others, it was easier for him to remain firm.
Since falling into the company of his countrymen, his hope of freedom had revived, and he was determined to make a grand effort to regain it.
He knew that five white captives were worth the trouble of taking to some seaport frequented by English ships; and he believed, if they refrained from making themselves useful, there was a prospect of their being thus disposed of.
Through his influence, therefore, the refractory slaves remained staunch in their resolution to abstain from work.
Their masters now saw that they were better off in the field than in the prison. They could not be prevented from obtaining a few heads of the barley, which they greedily ate, nor from obtaining a little moisture by chewing the roots of the weeds growing around them.
As soon as this was noticed, two of the Arabs were sent to conduct them back to the place where they had been confined on the night before.
It was with the utmost exertion that Sailor Bill and Colin were able to reach the town; while the others, with the exception of Jim, were in a very weak and exhausted state. Hunger and thirst were fast subduing them – in body, if not in spirit.
On reaching the door of the goat-pen, they refused to go in, all clamoring loudly for food and water.
Their entreaties were met with the declaration: that it was the will of God that those who would not work should suffer starvation.
"Idleness," argued their masters, "is always punished by ill-health"; and they wound up by expressing their thanks that such was the case.
It was not until the two Arabs had obtained the assistance of several of the women and boys of the village that they succeeded in getting the white slaves within the goat-pen.
"Jim, I tell you I can't stand this any longer," said Sailor Bill. "Call an' say to 'em as I gives in, and will work to-morrow, if they will let me have water."
"And so will I," said Terence. "There is nothing in the future to compensate for this suffering, and I can endure it no longer."
"Nor will I," exclaimed Harry; "I must have something to eat and drink immediately. We shall all be punished in the next world for self-murder in this unless we yield."
"Courage! patience!" exclaimed Jim. "It is better to suffer for a few hours more than to remain all our lives in slavery."
"What do I care for the future?" muttered Terence; "the present is everything. He is a fool who kills himself to-day to keep from being hungry ten years after. I will try to work to-morrow, if I live so long."
"Yes, call an' tell 'em, Jem, as 'ow we gives in, an' they'll send us some refreshment," entreated the old sailor. "It ain't in human nature to die of starvation if one can 'elp it."
But neither Jim nor the Krooman would communicate to the Arabs the wishes of their companions; and the words and signals the old sailor made to attract the attention of those outside were unheeded.
Early in the evening, both Colin and the Krooman also expressed themselves willing to sacrifice the future for the present.
"We have nothing to do with the future," said Colin; in answer to Jim's entreaties that they should remain firm. "The future is the care of God, and we are only concerned with the present. We ought to promise anything if we can obtain food by it."
"I tink so too now," said the Krooman; "for it am worse than sure dat if we starve now we no be slaves bom by."
"They will not quite starve us to death," said Jim. "I have told you before that we are worth too much for that. If we will not work they will sell us, and we may reach Mogador. If we do work, we may stay here for years. I entreat you to hold out one day longer."
"I cannot," answered one.
"Nor I," exclaimed another.
"Let us first get something to eat, and then take our liberty by force," said Terence, "I fancy that if I had a drink of water, I could whip all the Arabs on earth."
"And so could I," said Colin.
"And I, too," added Harry Blount.
Sailor Bill had sunk upon the floor, hardly conscious of what the others were saying; but, partly aroused by the word water, repeated it, muttering, in a hoarse whisper, "Water! Water!"
The Krooman and the three youths joined in the cry; and then all, as loudly as their parched throats would permit, shouted the word, "Water! Water!"
The call for water was apparently unheeded by the Arab men, but it was evidently music to many of the children of the village, for it attracted them to the door of the goat-pen, around which they clustered, listening with strong expressions of delight.
Through a long night of indescribable agony, the cry of "Water! Water!" was often repeated in the pen, and at each time in tones fainter and more supplicating than before.
The cry at length became changed from a demand to a piteous prayer.
