Ask him if he understands gardening, said the Moor.
We may remark, in passing, that Peter the Great and his owner had a peculiar mode of carrying on conversation. The latter addressed his slave in the Lingua Franca, while Peter replied in his own nigger English, which the Moor appeared to understand perfectly. Why they carried it on thus we cannot explain, but it is our duty to record the fact.
Understand gardening! exclaimed the sailor, in supreme contempt, I should think not. Wot dyou take me for, you black baboon! Do I look like a gardener? Ploughin an diggin I knows nothin about wotsomever, though I have ploughed the waves many a day, an Im considered a fust-rate hand at diggin into wittles.
Oh! massa, das de man for your money! Buy him, quick! cried the negro, with a look of earnest entreaty at his master. He say hes ploughed many a day, ans a fuss-rate hand at diggin. Do buy im!
But the Moor would not buy him. Either he understood the sailors language to some extent, or that inveterate obstinacy of which Peter had made mention as being part of his character was beginning to assert itself.
Ask this one what he knows about it, said the Moor, pointing to a thin young man, whose sprightly expression showed that he had not yet fully realised what fate was in store for him in the pirates stronghold.
Wich is it you mean, massa, dis one? said Peter, purposely mistaking and turning to Foster. Oh! you neednt ask about him. He not wuff his salt. I could tell him at a mile off for a lazy, useless feller. Gib more trouble dan hes wuff. Dere now, dis looks a far better man, he added, laying hold of the thin sprightly youth and turning him round. What dye tink ob dis one?
I told you to ask that one, replied the Moor sharply.
Can you do gardenin, you feller? asked Peter.
Oui, ouiun peu, replied the youth, who happened to be French, but understood English.
None ob your wee-wees an poo-poos to me. Cant you speak English?
Oui, yes, I gardin ver leetle.
Jus so. Das de man for us, massa, if you wont hab de oder. I likes de look ob im. I dont tink hell be hard on de wittles, an hes so tin dat he wont puspire much when he works in de sun in summer. Do buy him, massa.
But massa would not buy him, and looked hard for some time at our hero.
I see how it am, said the negro, growing sulky. You set your heart on dat useless ijit. Do come away, massa, it ud break my heart to lib wid sich a feller.
This seemed to clinch the matter, for the Moor purchased the objectionable slave, ordered Peter the Great to bring him along, and left the market-place.
Didnt I tell you Is de greatest hyperkrite as ever was born? said Peter, in a low voice, when sufficiently far in rear to prevent being overheard by his master.
You certainly did, replied Foster, who felt something almost like satisfaction at this change in his fate; you are the most perfect hypocrite that I ever came across, and I am not sorry for it. Only I hope you wont deceive your friends.
Honour bright! said the negro, with a roll of the eyes and a solemnity of expression that told far more than words could express.
Can you tell me, asked the middy, as they walked along, what has become of that fine-looking girl that was captured with her father and mother by your captain?
Dont say my captain, sar, replied Peter sternly. He no captain ob mine. I was ony loaned to him. But I knows nuffin ob de gall. Bery likely shes de Deys forty-second wife by dis time. Hush! look sulky, he added quickly, observing that his master was looking back.
Poor Foster found himself under the necessity of following his black friends lead, and acting the hyperkrite, in order to prevent their friendship being discovered. He did it with a bad grace, it is true, but felt that, for his friends sake if not his own, he was bound to comply. So he put on an expression which his cheery face had not known since that period of infancy when his frequent demands for sugar were not gratified. Wheels worked within wheels, however, for he felt so disgusted with the part he had to play that he got into the sulks naturally!
Fuss-rate! whispered Peter, yous amost as good as myself.
By this time they had reached one of the eastern gates of the city. It was named Bab-Azoun. As they passed through it the negro told his brother-slave that the large iron hooks which ornamented the wall there were used for the purpose of having criminals cast on them; the wretched victims being left to hang there, by whatever parts of their bodies chanced to catch on the hooks, till they died.
Having reached the open country outside the walls, they walked along a beautiful road, from which were obtained here and there splendid views of the surrounding country. On one side lay the blue Mediterranean, with its picturesque boats and shipping, and the white city descending to the very edge of the sea; on the other side rose the wooded slopes of a suburb named Mustapha, with numerous white Moorish houses in the midst of luxuriant gardens, where palms, bananas, cypresses, aloes, lemon-trees, and orange groves perfumed the balmy air, and afforded grateful shade from the glare of the African sun.
Into one of those gardens the Moor at last turned and led the way to a house, which, if not in itself beautiful according to European notions of architecture, was at least rendered cheerful with whitewash, and stood in the midst of a beauty and luxuriance of vegetation that could not be surpassed.
Opening a door in this building, the Turk entered. His slaves followed, and Foster, to his surprise, found what may be styled a miniature garden in the courtyard within.
Chapter Four
Our Middy is put to WorkAlso put on his word-of-Honour, and receives a Great Shock of Surprise
George Foster soon found that his master and owner, Ben-Ahmed, was a stern and exacting, but by no means an ill-natured or cruel, man. He appeared to be considerably over sixty years of age, but showed no signs of abated vigour. In character he was amiable and just, according to his light, but dignified and reticent.
His first act, after seating himself cross-legged on a carpet in a marble and tessellated recess, was to call for a hookah. He smoked that for a few minutes and contemplated the courtyard on which the recess opened. It was a pleasant object of contemplation, being filled with young orange-trees and creeping plants of a tropical kind, which were watered by a stone fountain in the centre of the court. This fountain also served to replenish a marble bath, to cool the sultry air, and to make pleasant tinkling music. Of course the nose was not forgotten in this luxurious assemblage of things that were gratifying to ear and eye. Flowers of many kinds were scattered around, and sweet-scented plants perfumed the air.
Ben-Ahmeds next act, after having lighted his pipe, was to summon Peter the Great and his new slavethe former to act as interpreter, for it was a peculiarity of this Moor that though he appeared to understand English he would not condescend to speak it.
After asking several questions as to our heros name, age, and calling in life, he told Peter to inform Foster that escape from that country was impossible, that any attempt to escape would be punished with flogging and other torture, that perseverance in such attempts would result in his being sent to work in chains with the Bagnio slaves and would probably end in death from excessive toil, torture, and partial starvation. Having said this, the Moor asked several questionsthrough the negro, and always in the Lingua Franca.