The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

a laugh, as if she had been playing at catch-who-can.

      Then Dawson and I, turning about, discovered to our consternation Ali Oukadi standing quite close beside us, with folded arms and bent brows.

      “You are unwise,” says he, in a calm tone.

      “Nay, master,” says Jack, piteously. “I did but speak a word to my child.”

      “If you understand our tongue,” adds I, “you will know that we did but bid her have patience, and wait.”

      “Possibly,” says he. “Nevertheless, you compel me henceforth to keep her a close prisoner, when I would give her all the liberty possible.”

      “Master,” says Jack, imploring, “I do pray you not to punish her for my fault. Let her still have the freedom of your garden, and I promise you we will go away this day and return no more until we can purchase her liberty for ever.”

      “Good,” says the old man, “but mark you keep your promise. Know that ’tis an offence against the law to incite a slave to revolt. I tell you this, not as a threat, for I bear you no ill will, but as a warning to save you from consequences which I may be powerless to avert.”

      This did seem to me a hint at some sinister design of Mohand ou Mohand—a wild suspicion, maybe, on my part, and yet, as I think, justified by evils yet to come.

      CHAPTER XXXIX.

      Of our bargaining with a Moorish seaman; and of an English slave.

      We lost no time, be sure, in going back to Alger, blessing God on the way for our escape, and vowing most heartily that we would be led into no future folly, no matter how simple and innocent the temptation might seem.

      And now began again a tedious season of watching on the mole of Alger; but not to make this business as wearisome to others, I will pass that over and come at once to that joyful, happy morning, when, with but scant hope, looking down upon the deck of a galley entering the port, to our infinite delight and amazement we perceived Richard Godwin waving his hand to us in sign of recognition. Then sure, mad with joy, we would have cast ourselves in the sea had we thereby been able to get to him more quickly. Nor was he much less moved with affection to meet us, and springing on the quai he took us both in his open arms and embraced us. But his first word was of Moll. “My beloved wife?” says he, and could question us no further.

      We told him she was safe, whereat he thanks God most fervently, and how we had spoken with her; and then he tells us of his adventures—how on getting Don Sanchez’s letter he had started forth at once with such help as Sir Peter Lely generously placed at his disposition, and how coming to Elche, he found Mrs. Godwin there in great anxiety because we had not returned, and how Don Sanchez, guessing at our case, had procured money from Toledo to pay Moll’s ransom, and did further charter a neutral galley to bring him to Alger—which was truly as handsome a thing as any man could do, be he thief or no thief. All these matters we discussed on our way to the Cassanabah, where Mr. Godwin furnished himself as we had with a trader’s permit for twenty-eight days.

      This done, we set out with a team of good mules, and reaching Thadviir about an hour before sundown, we repaired at once to Ali Oukadi’s, who received us with much civility, although ’twas clear to see he was yet loath to give up Moll; but the sight of the gold Mr. Godwin laid before him did smooth the creases from his brow (for these Moors love money before anything on earth), and having told it carefully he writes an acknowledgment and fills up a formal sheet of parchment bearing the Dey’s seal, which attested that Moll was henceforth a free subject and entitled to safe-conduct within the confines of the Dey’s administration. And having delivered these precious documents into Mr. Godwin’s hands, he leaves us for a little space and then returns leading dear Moll by the hand. And she, not yet apprised of her circumstances, seeing her husband with us, gives a shrill cry, and like to faint with happiness totters forward and falls in his ready arms.

      I will not attempt to tell further of this meeting and our passionate, fond embraces, for ’twas past all description; only in the midst of our joy I perceived that Mohand ou Mohand had entered the room and stood there, a silent spectator of Moll’s tender yielding to her husband’s caresses, his nostrils pinched, and his jaundiced face overcast with a wicked look of mortification and envy. And Moll seeing him, paled a little, drawing closer to her husband; for, as I learnt later on, and ’twas no more than I had guessed, he had paid her most assiduous attentions from the first moment he saw her, and had gone so far as to swear by Mahomet that death alone should end his burning passion to possess her. And I observed that when we parted, and Moll in common civility offered him her hand, he muttered some oath as he raised it to his lips.

      Declining as civilly as we might Ali Oukadi’s tender of hospitality, we rested that night at the large inn or caravansary, and I do think that the joy of Moll and her husband lying once more within each other’s arms was scarcely less than we felt, Dawson and I, at this happy ending of our long tribulations; but one thing it is safe to say, we slept as sound as they.

      And how gay were we when we set forth the next morning for Alger—Moll’s eyes twinkling like stars for happiness, and her cheeks all pink with blushes like any new bride, her husband with not less pride than passion in his noble countenance, and Dawson and I as blithe and jolly as schoolboys on a holiday. For now had Moll by this act of heroism and devotion redeemed not only herself, but us also, and there was no further reason for concealment or deceit, but all might be themselves and fear no man.

      Thus did joy beguile us into a false sense of security.

      Coming to Alger about midday, we were greatly surprised to find that the sail chartered by Don Sanchez was no longer in the port, and the reason of this we presently learnt was that the Dey, having information of a descent being about to be made upon the town by the British fleet at Tangier, he had commanded, the night before, all alien ships to be gone from the port by daybreak. This put us to a quake, for in view of this descent not one single Algerine would venture to put to sea for all the money Mr. Godwin could offer or promise. So here we were forced to stay in trepidation and doubt as to how we, being English, might fare if the town should be bombarded as we expected, and never did we wish our own countrymen further. Only our Moll and her husband did seem careless in their happiness; for so they might die in each other’s arms, I do think they would have faced death with a smile upon their faces.

      However, a week passing, and no sign of any English flag upon the seas, the public apprehension subsided; and now we began very seriously to compass our return to Elche, our trader’s passes (that is, Dawson’s and mine) being run out within a week, and we knowing full well that we should not get them renewed after this late menace of an English attack upon the town. So, one after the other, we tried every captain in the port, but all to no purpose. And one of these did openly tell me the Dey had forbidden any stranger to be carried out of the town, on pain of having his vessel confiscated and being bastinadoed to his last endurance.

      “And so,” says he, lifting his voice, “if you offered me all the gold in the world, I would not carry you a furlong hence.” But at the same time, turning his back on a janizary who stood hard by, he gave me a most significant wink and a little beck, as if I were to follow him presently.

      And this I did as soon as the janizary was gone, following him at a distance through the town and out into the suburbs, at an idle, sauntering gait. When we had got out beyond the houses, to the side of the river I have mentioned, he sits him down on the bank, and I, coming up, sit down beside him as if for a passing chat. Then he, having glanced to the right and left, to make sure we were not observed, asks me what we would give to be taken to Elche; and I answered that we would give him his price so we could be conveyed shortly.

      “When would you go?” asks he.

      “Why,” says I, “our passes expire at sundown after the day of Ramadah, so we must get hence, by hook or by crook, before that.”

      “That falls as pat as I would have it,” returns he (but not in these words), “for all the world will be up at the Cassanabah on that day, to the feast the Dey gives to honour his son’s coming of age. Moreover, the moon by then will not rise before two in the morning. So all being