CHAPTER TEN. · Part 5

"Now then, let's see how smartly we can do it," said the surgeon, on entering Colonel Langley's nursery. "Is your child tractable?"

"Very much the reverse," replied the Colonel, with a smile.

"Umph! can't be helped.--Set down the basket, my man, and come and hold him."

Now the Zaharian Zubby, not having been let into the secret of the mysterious proceedings that followed, became a source of unexpected danger and annoyance to the surgeon and his friends. She watched the former with some interest, while he mixed a small powder in the family medicine-glass, and when he advanced with it to Master Jim, her large eyes dilated so that the amount of white formed an absolutely appalling contrast with her ebony visage. But when she saw Master Jim decline the draught with his wonted decision of character, thereby rendering it necessary for the nautical man to put powerful restraint on his struggling limbs, and to hold his nose while the surgeon forced open his mouth and poured the contents of the family glass down his throat, and when, in addition to all this, she beheld Colonel Langley standing calmly by with an air of comparative indifference while this hideous cruelty was being practised on his son and heir, her warm heart could stand no more. Uttering a series of wild shrieks, she ran at the nautical man, scored his face down with her ten fingers, seized the choking Jim in her arms, and thrust her fore-finger down his little throat with the humane view of enabling him to part with the nauseous draught which he had been compelled to swallow.

Master Jim had convulsed himself twice, and had actually got rid of a little of the draught, before the surgeon could recover him from the irate negress.

"I hope he hasn't lost much of it," remarked the surgeon, looking anxiously at the howling boy as he held him fast. "I brought only one dose of the drug, but we shall see in a few minutes.--Do stop the noise of that screeching imp of blackness," he added, turning a look of anger on Zubby, whose grief was, like her mirth, obstreperous.

"I wish as some 'un had pared her nails afore I comed here," growled the nautical man.

"Hush, Zubby," said Colonel Langley, taking the girl kindly by the arm; "we are doing Jim no harm; you'll bring the janissaries in to see who is being murdered if you go on so--hush!"

But Zubby would not hush; the Colonel therefore called his black cook and handed her over to him--who, being a fellow-countryman, and knowing what a Zaharian frame could endure, carried her into an adjoining room and quietly choked her.

"He's going--all right," said the surgeon, with a look and nod of satisfaction, as the child, lying in the nautical man's arms, dropt suddenly into a profound slumber.

"Now, we will pack him.--Stay, has he a cloak or shawl of any kind?" said the surgeon, looking round.

"Zubby alone knows where his mysterious wardrobe is to be found," replied the Colonel.

"Then let the creature find it," cried the surgeon impatiently; "we have no time to lose."

Zubby was brought back and told to wrap her treasure in something warm, which she willingly did, under the impression that she was about to be ordered to take him out for a walk, but the tears which still bedimmed her eyes, coupled with agitation, caused her to perform her wonted duty clumsily, and to stick a variety of pins in various unnecessary places. She was then sent to the kitchen with some trivial message to the cook.

While she was away, Master Jim was packed in the bottom of the vegetable basket, and a quantity of cabbages, cauliflowers, etcetera, were placed above him. The basket was given to the nautical man to carry. Then the surgeon and the consul went out arm-in-arm, followed by two midshipmen, who were in attendance in the hall. Robinson--so the nautical man was named--brought up the rear.

They proceeded along the street Bab-el-Oued for some distance, and then, passing the mosque near the slave-market, descended the street that led to the Marina, and the place where the boat of the "Prometheus" lay in waiting.

The consul and surgeon affected to talk and laugh lightly as they approached the gate, and were permitted to pass, the guard supposing, no doubt, that the British consul was exercising his wonted civility in conducting his friends down to their boat. But fate, in the form of Zubby, was unfavourable to them. Either that loving damsel's finger had been more effective than was at first supposed, or the pins were operating with unwonted pungency, but certain it is, that just as Mr Robinson was passing under the gateway, Master Jim awoke from his profound slumber. Feeling, although not naturally dyspeptic, that the cabbages weighed heavy on his stomach, he set up such a howl, and struck out so violently, that the lid of the basket was forced up, and sundry vegetables rolled before the eyes of the astonished Turks.

Of course Master Jim and his bearer were taken prisoners, but the evil did not stop here, for the officer of the guard at once ordered the arrest of the consul himself, as well as the surgeon, the midshipmen, and the boat's crew of the "Prometheus," and the whole were thrust into the dungeons of the common prison--the consul, by special order of the Dey, being loaded with iron fetters.

The dismay of poor Mrs Langley and Agnes when they heard of the fate of the consul and his child may be imagined. It was however mitigated in some degree when, next morning, a boat came off to the "Prometheus" containing Master Jim himself, in charge of the faithful Zubby!

Whether it was that Omar deemed the child a useless encumbrance or a valueless article, or was visited by one of those touches of compunction which are well-known to assail at times the breasts of even the worst of pirates, we cannot tell; but no such clemency was extended to Jim's father. The Dey positively refused either to give him up or to promise his personal safety, nor would he listen to a word respecting the officers and men whom he had seized.

This was the news with which Captain Dashwood left Algiers, and which, some days later, he delivered to Lord Exmouth, when he met the British fleet on its way to the city, with the view of bringing the pirates to their senses.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE COMING STRUGGLE LOOMS ON THE HORIZON.

The barbarians of Barbary had roused the wrath of England to an extreme pitch in consequence of a deed which did not, indeed, much excel their wonted atrocities, but which, being on a large scale, and very public, had attracted unusual attention--all the more that, about the same time, the European nations, having killed as many of each other as they thought advisable for _that_ time, were comparatively set free to attend to so-called minor affairs.

The deed referred to was to the effect that on the 23rd of May 1816 the crews of the coral fishing-boats at Bona--about 200 miles eastward of Algiers--landed to attend mass on Ascension Day. They were attacked, without a shadow of reason or provocation, by Turkish troops, and massacred in cold blood.

Previous to this Lord Exmouth had been on the Barbary coast making treaties with these corsairs, in which he had been to some extent successful. He had obtained the liberation of all Ionian slaves, these having become, by political arrangement, British subjects; and having been allowed to make peace for any of the Mediterranean states that would authorise him to do so--it being well-known that they could do nothing for themselves,--he arranged terms of peace with the Algerines for Sardinia and Naples, though part of the treaty was that Naples should pay a ransom of 100 pounds head for each slave freed by the pirates, and Sardinia 60 pounds. Thinking it highly probable that he should ere long have to fight the Algerines, Lord Exmouth had sent Captain Warde of the `Banterer' to Algiers to take mental plans of the town and its defences, which that gallant officer did most creditably, thereby greatly contributing to the success of future operations. By a curious mistake of the interpreter at Tunis, instead of the desire being expressed that slavery should be abolished, England was made to _demand_ that this should be done, and the alarmed Tunisians agreed to it. Taking the hint, Lord Exmouth made the same demand at Tripoli, with similar result. At Algiers, however, his demands were refused, and himself insulted. Returning to England in some uncertainty as to how his conduct would be regarded--for in thus "demanding," instead of "desiring," the liberation of slaves, he had acted on his own responsibility,--he found the country agitated by the news of the Bona massacre, of which at that time he had not heard.

The demands, therefore, which he had made with some misgiving, were now highly approved, and it was resolved that they should be repeated to the barbarians in the thunder of artillery.

A member of the House of Commons, stirred to indignation by the news from Bona, got up and moved for copies of Lord Exmouth's treaties with Algiers for Naples and Sardinia, and all correspondence connected therewith. He strongly condemned the principle of _treating at all_ with states which presumed to hold their captives up to ransom, as by so doing virtual acknowledgment was made that these pirates had a right to commit their outrages. He was given to understand, he said, that the Dey, pressed by dissatisfied Algerines for limiting their sphere of plunder, had pacified them by assuring them that a wide field of plunder was still left! Treaties of peace made with them by some states had only the effect of turning their piracies into other channels, as was already beginning to be felt by the Roman states. He then described the wretched condition of the slaves. He cited one instance, namely, that out of three hundred slaves fifty had died from bad treatment on the day of their arrival, and seventy more during the first fortnight. The rest were allowed only one pound of black bread per day, and were at all times subject to the lash of their brutal captors--neither age nor sex being respected. One Neapolitan lady of distinction, he said, had been carried off by these corsairs, with eight children, two of whom had died, and she had been seen but a short time ago by a British officer in the thirteenth year of her captivity. These things were not exaggerations, they were sober truths; and he held that the toleration of such a state of things was a discredit to humanity, and a foul blot upon the fame of civilised nations. It is refreshing to hear men speak the truth, and call things by their right names, in plain language like this!

The House and the country were ripe for action. An animated debate followed. It was unanimously agreed that the barbarians should be compelled to cease their evil practices, and Lord Exmouth's conduct was not only approved, but himself was appointed to accomplish the duty of taming the Turks.

A better or bolder sea-lion could not have been found to take charge of Old England's wooden walls on this occasion--ironclads being then unknown. He was a disciple of the great Nelson, and a well-tried sea-warrior of forty years' standing. He went to work with the energy and promptitude of a true-blue British tar, and, knowing well what to do, resolved to do it in his own way.

Many naval officers considered the fortifications of Algiers impregnable. Having seen and studied them, Lord Exmouth thought otherwise. Lord Nelson, founding probably on erroneous information, and not having seen the place, had said that twenty-five line-of-battle ships would be necessary to subdue it. Our Admiral, with Captain Warde's correct plan in his pocket, knew that there was not room for even half that number of ships to be laid alongside the town. The Admiralty strongly urged him to take a powerful fleet. Lord Exmouth agreed to that, but decided that it should be a small one. To the surprise of their Lordships he fixed on _five_ liners, with a few smaller craft, as a sufficient number for the work he had to do. He said--

"If they open fire when the ships are coming up and cripple our masts, we shall have some difficulty, perhaps, and the loss will no doubt be greater, but if they allow us to take our stations, I am sure of them, for I know that nothing can resist a line-of-battle ship's fire."

It was usually thought by naval men that a ship could not be thoroughly effective until she had been a considerable time in commission. Doubtless the thought was correct, and founded on experience; nevertheless, Lord Exmouth proved himself an exception to ordinary naval rulers. He commissioned, fitted, and manned a fleet, and fought and won a great battle within the incredibly brief space of two months! But more of that hereafter.

Meanwhile the pirates prepared briskly for the coming struggle, and wrought hard at the batteries, while Christian slaves swarmed and toiled night and day on the ramparts of Algiers.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

IN WHICH RAIS ALI AND TED FLAGGAN PLAY A VIGOROUS PART.

When Colonel Langley's star descended, as has been described, his household was, of course, scattered to the winds. Those who were slaves, meekly--or otherwise--awaited their orders, which were various, according to their condition. Some of them were sent to toil at the fortifications, others to carry material into the town. Those who were free betook themselves to their kindred, and their favourite employments. A few members of the household joined the army of defence.

Among these latter was our friend Rais Ali, who, being a Moor, and having been a pirate, and still being young and strong, was deemed a fit subject to defend his hearth and home.

His hearth, by the way, was defended pretty well by the Moorish lady whom we introduced at the beginning of this volume, with the able assistance of a small negro whom Rais had purchased for a few shillings in the slave-market.

It must not be supposed that Rais Ali was a willing defender of his home. If he could have delegated that duty to others, he would have preferred it. Had it been possible for him to have retired into a distant part of the Zahara, and there dwelt at ease, while daily telegrams were forwarded to him of the progress of events, he would have considered himself supremely happy; but such was not his fortune, and, being of a philosophical turn of mind, he wisely succumbed to the inevitable.

It was so fated that Rais Ali was ordered to serve as a gunner at the Fish Market battery, just in front of the mosque Djama Djedid. Bravely did our interpreter proceed daily to his duties, and intensely did he hope that there might never be any occasion for his services.

But whatever fate might decree for him, Rais Ali had a peculiar knack of decreeing a few things for himself which neither fate nor anything else appeared to be able to deprive him of. One of these decrees was that, come what might, he should have his morning cup of coffee; another, that he should have a daily shave; a third, that he should have a bath at least once a week.

As one of the occasions on which he fulfilled his destiny and carried out his own fatal decrees bears on our tale, we will follow him.

Having begun the day, at a very early hour, with his cup of coffee, he proceeded in a leisurely way to a certain street in the town where was kept a Turkish bath. This was not an Anglified Turkish bath, good reader, but a real one; not an imitation, but the actual thing itself fresh from Turkey, managed by Turks, or Moors who were at least half Turks, and conducted in accordance with the strictest rules of Turkish etiquette.

Approaching the door of the bath, he observed a tall dignified and very powerful Arab sauntering in front of it.

Rais Ali seemed troubled by the sight of him, paused, advanced, halted, and again advanced, until the tall Arab, catching sight of him, stalked forward with solemn dignity and held out his hand.

"What for yoo comes here?" demanded Rais rather testily.

The tall Moor slowly bent his hooded head and whispered in his ear--"Faix, it's more than I rightly know mesilf."

"Yoo's mad," said Rais, drawing the tall Arab into the porch of the bath, where they could avoid the observation of passers-by. "Did not I tell yoo for to keep close?"

"So ye did, Rais Ally," said Ted Flaggan, for it was he, "and it's close I kep' as long as I cu'd, which was aisy enough, seeing that ye brought me purvisions so riglar--like a good feller as ye are; but body o' me, man, I cudn't live in a cave all me lone for iver, an' I got tired o' lookin' out for that British fleet that niver comes, so I says to mesilf wan fine evenin', `Go out, Ted me boy, an' have a swim in the say--it'll do 'ee good, and there's not much chance of any wan troublin' ye here.' No sooner said than done. Out I wint round beyont the Pint Pescade, an' off wid me close an' into the say. Och! but it _was_ plisint! Well, just as I was coming out, who should I see on the rocks above me but a big thief of an Arab? I knew at wance that if I was to putt on close he'd guess, maybe, who I was, so I came out o' the wather an' ran straight at him naked--meanin' to frighten him away like.

An' sure enough he tuk to his heels like a Munster pig. I don't know how it is, but I have always had a strong turn for huntin'. From the time whin I was a small gosoon runnin' after the pigs an' cats, I've bin apt to give chase to anything that runned away from me, an' to forgit myself. So it was now. After the Arab I wint, neck an crop, an' away he wint like the wind, flingin' off his burnous as he ran; but I was light, bein' naked, d'ye see, an' soon overhauled him. For a starn-chase it was the shortest I remember. When I came up wid him I made a grab at his head, an his hake--is that what ye calls it?--comed away in me hand, leaving his shaved head open to view, wid the tuft o' hair on the top of it.

"I laughed to that extint at this that he got away from me, so I gave him a finishin' Irish howl, by way o' making him kape the pace goin', an' thin stopped and putt on the hake. By and by I comes to where the burnous was, and putts it on too, an faix, ye couldn't have towld me from an Arab, for the bare legs an' feet and arms was all right, only just a taste over light in colour, d'ee see? Thinks I to mesilf, Ted, me boy, ye cudn't do better than remain as ye are. Wid a little brown dirt on yer face an' limbs, yer own mother wouldn't know ye. An' troth, Rais, I did it; an' whin I lucked at mesilf in a smooth pool on the baich, it was for all the world as if somebody else was luckin' at me. To be short wid ye, I've bin wanderin' about the country for the last three or four days quite free an' aisy."

"Nobody see yoo?" asked Rais in great surprise.

"Och! lots o' people, but few of 'em tuk a fancy to spake to me, an' whin they did I shuck me head, an' touched me lips, so they thought I was dumb."

"But why you comes to town?" asked Rais Ali, in a remonstrative tone.

"Just bekaise I'm hungry," replied the seaman, with a smile. "Ye see, Ally Babby, the gale of day before yesterday sint a breaker into the cave that washed away all the purvisions ye brought me last, so it was aither come here and look for 'ee or starve--for the British fleet has apparently changed its mind, and ain't goin' to come here after all. I meant to go d'rec' to yer house, but knowin' yer fondness for baths, and rememberin' that this was yer day, I thought it betther to cruise about here till you hove in sight."

While Ted Flaggan was relating all this, his friend's countenance expressed alternately doubt, disapproval, anxiety, amusement, and perplexity.

When he had finished, Rais informed him that instead of the fleet having changed its mind, there was great probability of its sudden appearance at any moment. He also mentioned the arrest of the British consul and the boat's crew of the "Prometheus," and explained that the most energetic measures were being taken to place the city in a state of defence.

"Oho!" exclaimed Flaggan, in a low tone, "that clears up wan or two things that's been puzzlin' me. I've bin thinkin' that the ship I saw lave the port was British, but the weather bein' thick I cudn't quite make out her colours. Then, I've been sore perplexed to account for the flocks of armed Arabs that have bin steerin' into the town of late, an' whin I passed the gates this mornin' I was troubled too, to make out what was all the bustle about. It's all clare as ditch-wather now.--But what's to be done with _me_, Rais? for if the cownsl an' the British gin'rally are in limbo, it's a bad look-out for Ted Flaggan, seein' that I'm on the black list already."

Rais Ali appeared to ponder the case for a few seconds.

"Come an' have one bath," he said, with sudden animation; "after that we go brikfast togidder."

"Av we cud `brikfust' _fust_, Ally Babby, it would be plisinter," returned the hungry seaman; "but, I say, I dursn't go into the bath, 'cause what would they think of a man wid dark-brown arms, legs, an' face, an' a pink body? Sure, they'd take me for a spy or a madman, an' hand me over to the p'leece!"

"Wash here, fust," said Rais, leading his friend to a small fountain in a retired angle of the court. "Ebbery body here too bizzy 'joyin' theirselfs to look to yoo. An' des corner dark. Me stan' 'tween you an' dem."

"But who ever heard of a white Moor?" objected Ted.

"Oh, lots of 'em--'alf-castes, almost white as you," said Rais.

"But I ain't got a shaved skull with a top knot," returned the seaman, still objecting.

"Nebber mind; sailors of France, Denmark, an' odder places what hav consuls here, when waitin' for ship carry dem home comes here for fun--"

"Ay, but they don't come disguised as Moors," said Flaggan, "and I niver was inside a Turkish bath before. Don't know more nor a child what to do."

"Yoo don' go in bath dressed--go naked," returned Rais, growing impatient. "Do noting in bath, only let 'em do what dey pleases to yoo."

"Very good, plaze yersilf, Ally Babby," said Ted, resignedly plunging his arms into the cistern; "only remimber, I give ye fair warnin', av the spalpeens attempts to take me prisoner, I'll let fly into their breadbaskets right an' left, an' clear out into the street, naked or clothed, no matter which,--for I've said it wance, an' I means to stick to it, they'll niver take Ted Flaggan alive."

"All right," returned Rais Ali, "yoo wash yours faces an' holds your tongue."

After removing as much as possible of the brown earth from his visage and limbs, the seaman drew the hood of his burnous well over his face, and--having assiduously studied the gait of Moors--strode with Oriental dignity into the outer court, or apartment, of the bath, followed his friend into an unoccupied corner and proceeded to undress.

"Musha! it's like a house-full of Turkish corpses," whispered Ted as he surveyed the recumbent figures in white around him.

There were some differences between this genuine Turkish bath and our British imitation of it which merit notice.

The court or hall in which the friends unrobed served the purpose of a drying-chamber as well as a dressing-room. Hence those bathers who entered to commence the operation of undressing had to pass between rows of the men who had gone through the bath, and were being gradually cooled down. They were all swathed from head to foot in white sheets, with large towels or pieces of linen tied turban-fashion round their heads, and as they lay perfectly straight and still, their resemblance to Turkish corpses was disagreeably strong. This idea was still further carried out in consequence of the abominable smell which pervaded the place, for Algerines were at that time utterly indifferent to cleanliness in their baths. Indeed, we may add, from personal experience, that they are no better at the present time than they were then! A few of the corpses, however, possessed sufficient life to enable them to smoke and sip tea or coffee.

This outer court was the immediate vestibule to the bath, or stewing-room--if we may be allowed the name. There was no passing, as with us, from a private undressing-box, through a mild cooling room, and thence into the hot and the hottest rooms. The Moors were bold, hardy fellows. The step was at once made from the cooling into the hot room, or bath, and in taking the step it was necessary to pass over one of the open sewers of the town--to judge from the smell thereof. But this last was a mere accidental circumstance connected with the bath, not an essential part of it. Thus it will be seen there were but two apartments in the establishment, with an outer lobby.

When the two friends had unrobed and wrapped a piece of striped calico round their loins, they were led by a young Moor in similar costume towards the stewing-room.

"Don' be frighted," whispered Rais Ali; "it's pretty hottish."

"I'll _try_ to be aisy," replied the seaman with a quiet smile, "an' av I can't be aisy I'll be as aisy as I can."

Although he treated the idea of being frightened with something of contempt, he was constrained to admit to himself that he was powerfully surprised when he stepped suddenly into a chamber heated to an extent that seemed equal to a baker's oven.

The apartment was octagonal, and very high, with a dome-shaped roof, from which it was dimly lighted by four small and very dirty windows. Water trickled down the dirty dark-brown walls; water and soap-suds floated over the dirty marble floor. In the centre of the floor was a mass of masonry about three feet high and seven feet square. This was the core of the room, as it were--part of the heating apparatus. It was covered with smooth slabs of stone, on which there was no covering of any kind. There is no knowing how much lurid smoke and fire rolled beneath this giant stone ottoman.

It chanced that only two men were in the place at the time. They had advanced to a certain stage of the process, and were enjoying themselves, apparently lifeless, and in sprawling attitudes, on the hot sloppy floor. The attendant of one had left him for a time. The attendant of the other was lying not far from his temporary owner, sound asleep. One of the Moors was very short and fat, the other tail and unusually thin; both had top-tufts of hair on their shaven crowns, and both would have looked supremely ridiculous if it had not been for the horrible resemblance they bore to men who had been roasted alive on the hot ottoman, and flung carelessly aside to die by slow degrees.

"Do as I doos," said Rais to Flaggan, as he stretched himself on his back on the ottoman.

"Surely," acquiesced Ted, with a gasp, for he was beginning to feel the place rather suffocating. He would not have minded the heat so much, he thought, if there had only been a _little_ fresh air!

Rais Ali's bath-attendant lay down on the slab beside him. Flaggan's attendant looked at him with a smile, and pointed to the ottoman.

"Och, surely," said Ted again, as he sat down. Instantly he leaped up with a subdued howl.

"W'y, what wrong?" asked Rais, looking up.

"It's red-hot," replied Flaggan, rubbing himself.

"Nonsense!" returned Rais; "you lie down queek. Soon git use to him. Always feel hottish at fust."

Resolved not to be beaten, the unfortunate Irishman sat down again, and again started up, but, feeling ashamed, suddenly flung himself flat on his back, held his breath, and ground his teeth together. He thought of gridirons; he thought of the rack; he thought of purgatory; he thought of the propriety of starting up and of tearing limb from limb the attendant, who, with a quiet smile, lay down beside him and shut his eyes; he thought of the impossibility of bearing it an instant longer; and then he suddenly thought that it felt a little easier. From this point he began to experience sensations that were slightly pleasurable, and a profuse perspiration broke out over his whole body.

Evidently his attendant was accustomed to deal occasionally with white men, for he watched his huge charge out of the corner of a wicked eye for some time. Seeing, however, that he lay still, the fellow went off into a peaceful slumber.

"'Tis an amazin' place intirely," observed Ted, who felt inclined to talk as he began to enjoy himself. "If it wasn't so dirty that an Irish pig of proper breedin' would object to come into it, I'd say it was raither agreeable."

Rais Ali being in the height of enjoyment, declined to answer, but the seaman's active mind was soon furnished with food for contemplation, when one of the attendants entered and quietly began, to all appearance, to put the tall thin Moor to the torture.

"Have I to go through _that_?" thought Flaggan; "well, well, niver say die, owld boy, it's wan comfort that I'm biggish, an' _uncommon_ tough."

It would be tedious to prolong the description of the Irishman's bathe that morning. Suffice it to say that, after he had lain on the ottoman long enough to feel as if the greater part of him had melted away, he awoke his attendant, who led him into a corner, laid him on the sloppy floor, and subjected him to a series of surprises. He first laid Ted's head on his naked thigh, and rubbed his face and neck tenderly, as though he had been an only son; he then straightened his limbs and baked them as though he had been trained to knead men into loaves from infancy; after that he turned him on his back and on his face; punched and pinched and twisted him; he drenched him with hot water, and soused him with soap-suds from head to foot, face and all, until the stout mariner resembled a huge mass of his native sea-foam; he stuck his hair up on end, and scratched his head with his ten nails; and tweaked his nose, and pulled his fingers and toes till they cracked again!

All this Ted Flaggan, being tough, bore with passing fortitude, frequently saying to the Moor, internally, for soap forbade the opening of his lips--

"Go ahead, me lad, an' do yer worst!"

But although his tormentor utterly failed to move him by fair means, he knew of a foul method which proved successful. He crossed Ted's arms over his breast, and attempted to draw them as far over as possible, with the view, apparently, of tying them into a knot.

"Pull away, me hearty!" thought Flaggan, purposely making himself as limp as possible.

The Moor did pull; and while his victim's arms were stretched across each other to the uttermost, he suddenly fell upon them, thereby almost forcing the shoulder-joints out of their sockets.

"Och! ye spalpeen!" shouted Ted, flinging him off as if he had been a feather. Then, sinking back, he added, "Come on; you'll not ketch me slaipin' again, me honey!"

The amused Moor accepted the invitation, and returned to the charge. He punched him, baked him, boxed him, and battered him, and finally, drenching him with ice-cold water, swathed him in a sheet, twisted a white turban on his head, and turned him out like a piece of brand-new furniture, highly polished, into the drying-room.

"How yoos like it?" asked Rais Ali, as they lay in the Turkish-corpse stage of the process, calmly sipping tea.

"It's plis'nt," replied Ted, "uncommon plis'nt, but raither surprisin'."

"Ha," responded Rais.

At this point their attention was turned to the little fat Moor who had been their fellow-bather, and to whom Ted in his undivided attention to the thin Moor had paid little regard.

"Musha!" whispered Ted, "it's the capting of the port."

The captain of the port it was, and if that individual had known who it was that lay cooling within a few yards of him, he would probably have brought our nautical hero's days to a speedy termination. But although he had seen Ted Flaggan frequently under the aspect of a British seaman, he had never before seen him in the character of a half-boiled Moor. Besides, having been thoroughly engrossed and lost in the enjoyment of his own bath, he had paid no attention to those around him.

"Turn yoos face well to de wall," whispered Rais Ali. "He great hass; hims no see yoo."

"Great `hass,' indade; he's not half such a `hass' as I am for comin' in here," muttered the sailor, as he huddled on his Arab garments, keeping his face carefully turned away from the captain of the port, who lay with his eyes shut in a state of dreamy enjoyment.

In a few minutes the two friends paid for their bath, and went out.

"I feels for all the world like a bird or a balloon," said Ted, as his companion hurried him along; "if I don't git some ballast soon in the shape o' grub, I'll float away intirely."

Rais Ali made no reply, but turned into a baker's shop, where he purchased two rolls. Then hurrying on down several narrow streets, the houses of which met overhead, and excluded much of the light of day, he turned into a small Moorish coffee-house, which at first seemed to the sailor to be absolutely dark, but in a few minutes his eyes became accustomed to it, and he saw that there were several other customers present.

They were nearly all in Arab costume, and sat cross-legged on two benches which ran down either side of the narrow room. Each smoked a long pipe, and sipped black coffee out of a very diminutive cup, while the host, a half negro, stood beside a charcoal fire, in the darkness of the far interior, attending to an array of miniature tin coffee-pots, which exactly matched the cups in size. A young Moor, with a red fez, sat twanging a little guitar, the body of which was half a cocoa-nut, covered with parchment.

This musician produced very dismal tones from its two strings, but the Arabs seemed content, and sat in silent, not to say dignified, enjoyment of it.

"Eat away now," whispered Rais to Flaggan, as they entered--"cross yoo legs, look solemn, an' hold yoos tongue. Me goes git shave."

Obedient to instructions--as British seamen always are--Ted took his place on one of the narrow benches, and, crossing his legs _a la Turk_, began with real zest to eat the rolls which his friend had provided for him, and to sip the cup, or thimbleful, of coffee which mine host silently, by order of the same friend, placed at his side.

Meanwhile, Rais Ali submitted himself to the hands of the host, who was also a barber, and had his head and face shaved without soap--though a little cold water was used.

During this operation a boy ran hastily into the cafe and made an announcement in Arabic, which had the surprising effect of startling the Arabs into undignified haste, and induced Rais Ali to overturn his coffee on the barber's naked feet, while he seized a towel and dried himself violently.

"What's to do, old feller?" demanded Flaggan, with a huge bite of bread almost stopping up his mouth.

"De British fleet am in sight!" shrieked Rais Ali.

"Ye don't mean that?" cried Ted, in his turn becoming excited. "Then it's time that _I_ was out o' the city!"

"Yis, away! go to yous cave! Only death for Breetish in Algiers--off! away!"

The Moor dashed out and hastened to his post on the ramparts, while Ted Flaggan, drawing his burnous well round him, made straight for the northern gate of the town, casting an uneasy glance at his now white legs, of which at least the ankles and beginning of the brawny calves were visible. We use the term "white" out of courtesy, and in reference to the distinct difference between the bold seaman's limbs and those of the brown-skinned Arabs. In reality they were of a very questionable neutral tint, and covered with a large quantity of hair.

Their appearance, however, signified little, for by that time the whole town was in an uproar of active preparation and excitement.

Men of various colours--black, brown, and yellow, with every intermediate shade, and in many different garbs--were hastening to the ramparts, while anxious women of the lower orders, and frightened children, were rushing to and fro, either engaged in some duties connected with the defence, or simply relieving their feelings by violent action: while bodies of janissaries were hastening to their various stations, or came trooping in from all the outposts of the surrounding country.

In the midst of such confusion our tall Arab attracted no notice. He passed through the streets unmolested, and out at the Bab-el-Oued gate unchallenged.

It was little more than daybreak at the time, for Arabs are early risers at all times, and on the present occasion they had reason to be earlier than usual.

The moment our tar caught sight of the sea, his heart gave a wild bound of exultation, for on the horizon appeared a few white specks, like sea-mews, which he now knew to be the British fleet.

Without any definite intention as to what he meant to do, Flaggan sped along the road leading to his cave at Point Pescade, his chief feeling being a strong desire to get out of the sight of natives, that he might meditate alone on his future movements, which he felt must be prompt and decisive.

Before quite reaching his destination fortune favoured him. Coming round a rocky point of the coast, he observed a boat with one man in it rowing close inshore.

"That'll do," whispered Ted to himself, as he went behind a rock and hastily smeared his face and limbs with earth.

When the boat approached he went to the edge of the sea and made signs to the fisherman, for such he was, to approach, at the same time pretending to take something out of a wallet at his side, to which he pointed with eager interest, as though he had something important to say about it.

The man lay on his oars a moment, and then pulled in, but cautiously, for he suspected the stranger. When within about four or five yards of the rocks the man again stopped.

"Arrah come on, won't 'ee?" exclaimed the impatient Irishman, gesticulating wildly.

The fisherman had evidently seen and heard enough, for he at once dipped his oars with the intention of rowing off, when Ted made a sudden spring, and went with a heavy plunge into the water within a yard of the boat, which was a very small one.

Unfortunately for the fisherman, instead of pulling away he raised an oar with the intention of striking Flaggan when he should rise. It was a fatal mistake. He did indeed strike him, and on the head too; but that was the most invulnerable part of the Irishman's body. Ted grasped the oar, caught the gunwale of the boat, and in a moment overturned it and its occupant on his shoulders.

Diving clear, he rose and watched for his adversary. The man also rose a moment later, and Ted, who was a splendid swimmer, went at him like a small steamboat, caught him by the neck, and half throttled him; then dragging him ashore, untwisted his turban, and therewith tied his arms and legs fast, after which he carried him into a small cave near at hand, and left him to his meditations.

This accomplished, he returned to the little boat, swam off and righted her, baled her out, shipped the oars, and rowed straight out to sea.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

DESCRIBES THE BOMBARDMENT OF ALGIERS.

When the British fleet bore down on Algiers on the morning of the 27th of August 1816, there was barely sufficient wind to carry it within sight of the town. While lying becalmed in the _Queen Charlotte_, Lord Exmouth sent in a boat and a flag of truce with the terms dictated by England, and a demand for the immediate release of the consul and the officers and men belonging to the _Prometheus_.

About the same time a small boat was observed by those on board the fleet to put off from the shore to the northward, which, pulling right across the town, made straight for the flag-ship. It was manned by a solitary rower, who, as he drew near, was recognised by his costume to be an Arab.

A four-oared boat shot out from the mole-head as if to intercept this solitary rower, and a short but inspiriting chase ensued. It was seen that at first the Arab paid no attention whatever to the boat in pursuit, but kept up the slow regular stroke of one who felt quite unconcerned and at his ease. The boat in chase overhauled it fast, and when within shout a gunshot the Turk in the stern stood up and hailed the Arab in stern, angry tones, but no reply was vouchsafed. Exasperated beyond measure, the Turk levelled a pistol at the Arab and fired, but missed his aim, and was driven almost frantic with rage on observing that the insolent Arab dropped his oar for an instant, and kissed his hand to the ball as it skipped past.

Immediately after the Turk was heard to shout an order to his men, who thereupon redoubled their efforts to overtake the chase. At the same instant the Arab was observed to bend well forward, and almost double the length of his stroke, so that the little craft, which had hitherto skimmed over the calm sea, now began to leap, as it were, in successive bounds.

"I say, Bill, _don't_ he pull well?" exclaimed one of the tars on board the _Queen Charlotte_.

"Splendiferous!" replied Bill, in great admiration; "an' I do believe that he's creepin' away from the Turk."

This was true; the Arab was steadily increasing the distance between himself and his pursuers, until at last the latter gave up the chase, a consummation which was greeted by some of the excitable spirits in the _Queen Charlotte_ with an irresistible though subdued cheer.

In a short time the Arab rowed alongside the flag-ship.

"Och! Ally ma boo hookum foldimaronky bang," said the Arab, looking up.

"Well, now," exclaimed a surprised Irish tar on board to those near him, "it's often. I've heard that the Arabs had the brogue of Owld Ireland, though the lingo don't square exactly."

"Ah then, brother, that's 'cause ye don't onderstand it. Sure ye might heave us a rope," replied the Arab with a grin.

A roar of laughter greeted this speech, and in another minute Ted Flaggan stood bowing modestly on the quarter-deck of the flag-ship.

While the Admiral was closeted with this unexpected visitor--whose name and deeds, owing to some strange oversight, have been omitted from history,--a light breeze sprang up, which enabled the fleet to stand into the bay and lay-to about a mile from the town.

Meanwhile, Ted Flaggan, having given the Admiral all the information he possessed as to the condition of the city and its defences, was sent forward to take part in the expected fight, or go below out of harm's way, as suited him best. He immediately attached himself, as a supernumerary, to one of the upper-deck guns, and, while giving his amused comrades graphic accounts of life in the pirate city, obtained from them in return a full account of the fleet, and the intentions of the Admiral, as far as these were known. He found his comrades very intelligent, and full of enthusiasm about their leader, whom one of the tars styled "one of the wery best Admirals that England ever owned arter Lord Nelson!"

Their admiration was well deserved.

We have already said that the Admiral had commissioned his fleet and got it into excellent working condition in what was deemed a miraculously short space of time. This, however, was accomplished by no miraculous means, but by the simple force of indomitable energy, rightly and perseveringly applied.

Knowing that the time was short, and that a fleet newly manned could not work well without a great deal of training, he made up for the shortness of time by not allowing a single moment of it to be lost, frittered away, or misapplied. Besides giving the men the usual and proper training while in port preparing to sail, he made several arrangements whereby he continued the training most effectively on the voyage out. Of course it was carried on daily. On Tuesdays and Fridays the ships were cleared for action, and six broadsides were fired, but this was only what may be styled parade practice. Feeling that actual work could only be done well by men of actual experience, he had a twelve-pounder gun placed on the after part of the _Queen Charlotte's_ quarter-deck, and hung a small target, with a very small bull's-eye, at the end of the fore-topmast studding-sail boom, at which all the captains of guns practised every day, so that they acquired not only the habit of laying and working their guns according to rule, but also the art of laying them to good purpose, and many of them became crack shots before they came within sight of the enemy.

The crews were thus kept active and elated; in good health, and filled with respect for the wisdom and knowledge of those in command, as well as with confidence in their own capacity to obey orders with promptitude, unity of action, and vigorous effect.

Half the battles of life, moral as well as physical, are gained by such confidence, founded on experience,--the other half are lost for want of it!

The fleet comprised five line-of-battle ships, two of which were three-deckers; three heavy and two smaller frigates, besides small craft. At Gibraltar they fell in with a Dutch squadron, consisting of five small frigates and a corvette, under Vice-Admiral the Baron Van de Capellen, who asked and obtained leave to co-operate.

There were the _Queen Charlotte_--110 guns--the flag-ship of Admiral Lord Exmouth, G. C. B., under Captain James Brisbane, C. B.; _Impregnable_, 98--under Rear-Admiral Milne, who was second in command, and Captain Edward Brace, C. B.; _Superb_, 74--Captain Charles Elkins; _Minden_, 74-- Captain William Paterson; _Albion_, 74--Captain John Coode. Of frigates, there were the _Leander_, 50 guns; _Severn_, 40; _Glasgow_, 40; _Granicus_, 36; and _Hebrus_, 36. These, with five gun-brigs and four bomb-vessels, named respectively, and not inappropriately, _Beelzebub_, _Fury_, _Hecla_, and _Infernal_, constituted the British fleet.

The Dutch Admiral hoisted his flag in the _Melampus_ frigate of 44 guns. The _Frederica_, of same size, was commanded by Captain Van der Straten. The other four vessels were smaller. There were, besides, a flotilla of fifty-five small craft, including mortar and gun-boats, rocket flats, yawls, etcetera.

Opposed to this, which the reader will bear in remembrance was deemed a small fleet, there were on the walls and batteries of Algiers about 500 guns of all sizes and sorts, behind which were inexhaustible supplies of ammunition, and many thousands of as thorough-going rascals as ever defied the strength and tried the patience of the civilised world!

Being thoroughly acquainted with the position and strength of the batteries of the city, Lord Exmouth had arranged the plan of attack, and assigned to each ship and boat its particular station some days before arriving. The addition of the Dutch fleet modified but did not materially alter that plan. Each individual, therefore, from Lord Exmouth to the smallest powder-monkey, was as well primed for action as were the guns of the fleet when the flag of truce returned.

It had been met outside the mole about eleven AM by the captain of the port, and an answer was promised in two hours.

But these pirates had never been celebrated for keeping their word. One o'clock passed, but no answer was forthcoming. Patient and long-suffering as usual--and as he always is--the British Lion delayed a full hour.

"Ah, boys, if we wait till we git a peaceful answer from them villains, we'll wait till doomsday, so we will," said Ted Flaggan to the men of the gun to which he had attached himself.

Ted had thrown off his burnous and washed himself by this time, and now, clad in a borrowed pair of ducks and striped shirt, he stood by the gun commenting pleasantly on his experiences of Algerine life, and pointing out the various buildings and objects of interest in the city to his mates.

"That big white house there," said he, "right fornint ye, with the round top an' the staple all to wan side--that's wan o' the chief mosques. It's somewhere about two hunderd year ould, more or less, an' was built by a slave--a poor feller of a Genoese--an', would you belave it, they kilt him for the shape he gave it! Ah, they're a bad lot intirely! Like a dacent Christian, he made it in the shape o' a cross, an' whin the Dey found that out he chopped the poor man's head off--so he did, worse luck! but it's that they're always doin', or stranglin' ye wid a bow-string, or makin' calf's-futt jelly o' yer soles.--What! `Ye don't belave it?' Faix, if ye go ashore ye'll larn to belave it. I've seed poor owld women git the bastinado--that's what they calls it--for nothin' at all a'most. Ah, they're awful hard on the women. They kape 'em locked up, they does, as if they was thieves or murderers, and niver lets 'em out--at least the ladies among 'em--for fear o' their bein' runned away wid.

It's true what I'm sayin'. An' if wan shud be runned away wid, an' cotched, they ties her in a sack and drowns her.-- Good-lookin', is it? Faix, that's more than I can tell 'ee, for all the time I've been in the place I've never wance seed a Moorish woman's face, barrin' the brow an' eyes and top o' the nose, for they cover 'em up wid white veils, so as to make 'em look like ghosts or walkin' corpses. But the Jewesses show their purty faces, an' so do the naigresses.--`are the naigresses purty?' Troth, they may be to their own kith an' kin, but of all the ugly--Well, well, as you say, it's not fair to be hard on 'em, poor critters; for arter all they didn't make theirselves, no more than the monkeys did."

Ted Flaggan was interrupted here by the sudden exclamation of "There she is!" and the next moment the boat with the flag of truce was seen returning with the signal flying--"No answer."

Instantly Lord Exmouth signalled to the fleet, "Are you ready?" to which an affirmative reply was at once returned, and then each ship and boat bore down on its appointed station.

We have already said that the harbour of Algiers was formed by the running out of an artificial pier from the mainland to the small island of Penon, which lies close to the town. On this island stood, (and still stands), a light-house, at the base of which was a powerful three-tier battery of fifty guns. The island itself was defended all round by ramparts and batteries of heavy guns. This was the strong point of the fortifications, and within the small harbour thus formed was collected the whole Algerine fleet, consisting of four frigates, five large corvettes, and thirty-seven gun-boats.

But besides these harbour defences, the sea-wall of the town extended nearly a mile to the southward and a considerable distance to the northward of the harbour, being everywhere strengthened by powerful batteries. The arrangement of the British Admiral was that each battery should be engaged by a special ship or ships of heavy metal, and that the smaller vessels should take up position where they could find room, or cruise about and do as much damage to the enemy as possible. While the liners and frigates were to batter down the walls, the small craft-- bomb and rocket boats, etcetera--were to pour shells and rockets into the arsenal. It was terrible work that had to be done, but the curse which it was intended to do away with was more terrible by far, because of being an old standing evil, and immeasurably more prolific of death and misery than is even a hard-fought battle.

The signal to go into action being given, Lord Exmouth led the van in the _Queen Charlotte_, and the whole fleet bore up in succession, the Dutch Admiral closing in with the rearmost ship of the English line.

Truly it was a grand as well as a solemn sight to see these majestic ships of war sail quietly down on the devoted city in the midst of dead silence, for as yet not a shot had been fired on either side. And the eyes of many, already wide with eagerness, must have opened wider still with surprise, for Lord Exmouth pursued a course of action that was bold even for a British Admiral. He ran the _Queen Charlotte_ before the wind, close up to the walls, and with the sails still standing let go three anchors from the stern, so as to keep her exactly in the required position, just before the opening of the mole, and with her vast broadside _within pistol-range_ of the walls, flanking all the batteries from the mole-head to the light-house.

Still no shot was fired. The boldness of the act seemed to have confounded and paralysed the enemy, insomuch that a second ship of the line had almost taken her position close to the stern of her predecessor before the battle began. The effect on the minds of the combatants on both sides was so great that they seemed to have forgotten for an instant the dread work they were about to perform. The mole was crowded with troops, many of whom, with irresistible feelings of curiosity, leaped on the parapet to see the vessel pass, while Lord Exmouth, with a strange touch of humanity, waved to them earnestly to get out of the way of the coming fire!

Having coolly lashed the ship by a hawser to the main-mast of an Algerine brig which was attached to the shore, and stoppered the cables, the crew of the flag-ship cheered.

Immediately a gun was fired by the Algerines. At the first flash Lord Exmouth gave the order to "stand by."

At the second gun of the enemy he gave the word "Fire!"

The third was drowned in the thunder of the _Queen Charlotte's_ broadside.

The effect of such heavy metal at so short a range was terrific. The walls absolutely crumbled before it, and it is said that five hundred men fell at the first discharge. All the batteries of the city at once opened fire; the ships did likewise, as they successively got into position, and for some hours after that the roar of artillery was incessant, for, despite the irresistible fire of the fleet, the pirates stood to their guns like men. Thus, although the leading vessels succeeded in anchoring quietly, all the rest of the ships went into action under a very heavy fire, particularly that of the Dutch Admiral, who displayed great wisdom and gallantry in the part which he played. The line-of-battle ships formed in a sort of crescent round the outside of the island. The _Superb_ anchored two hundred and fifty yards astern of the flag-ship; the _Minden_ anchored about her own length from the _Superb_, and passing her stream-cable out of the larboard gun-room port to the _Albion_, brought the two ships together. Next came the _Impregnable_. These sufficiently engaged the batteries on the island or mole. The heavy frigates passed ahead and anchored,--the _Leander_ on the port bow of the _Queen Charlotte_, the _Severn_ ahead of her, with her starboard broadside bearing on the Fishmarket battery. The _Melampus_ and _Diana_, Dutch vessels, passed beyond and engaged the southern batteries of the town. The smaller vessels cruised about, directing their fire where it seemed to be most needed, and the flotilla of mortar and rocket boats were distributed at the openings between the line-of-battle ships and the mole.

This admirable disposition of the force seemed to inspire the men with additional confidence, if such were possible, but ere long the dense smoke rendered everything invisible beyond a few yards' distance from the actors in the tremendous fight.

In a few minutes after opening fire, the _Queen Charlotte_ had reduced the fortifications on the mole-head to ruins. She then brought her broadside to bear on the batteries over the gate leading to the mole and on the upper works of the light-house. Her shot told on it with fatal accuracy, crumbling the tower and bringing down gun after gun, thus proving that the ball-practice on the voyage out had not been undertaken in vain. Indeed, so expert did some of the gunners find themselves that they actually amused themselves at one part of the day in attempting to hit the Algerine flag-staff!

It chanced that, owing to some alteration in the arrangements, our friend Rais Ali was transferred from the battery on the walls, where he had originally been stationed, to that on the light-house, and when he beheld gun after gun tumbling helplessly over the crumbling parapets, his spirit fired, and he amazed his comrades by displaying a disregard of personal danger for which he had never before got credit. Whether it was that Ted Flaggan had underrated him, or that there is truth in the proverb about extremes meeting, we cannot tell, but certain it is, that when Rais Ali saw every gun of the battery dismounted but one, he rushed at that one like an enraged lion, seized the rammer from the man who wielded it, and began to load.

He might have spared himself the trouble, for before he got the charge rammed home, a shot from the terrible _Queen Charlotte_ struck the parapet just underneath, burst it up, and toppled the gun over. Rais leaped on the ramparts, waved his scimitar with a yell of defiance, and, tumbling after the gun, was lost amid a cloud of lime-dust and debris.

Strange to say, he rose from out the ruin almost unhurt, and quite undismayed.

Hasting along the quay without any definite end in view, he found the captain of the port getting the flotilla of gun-boats ready for action. There were thirty-seven of them, and up to that time they had lain as snugly in the harbour as was compatible with a constant shower of shells and rockets tumbling into them. With great daring the pirates had resolved to make a dash with these, under cover of the smoke, and attempt to board the British flag-ship.

"Where go you?" demanded the infuriated Rais.

The captain of the port hurriedly explained.

"I go with you," cried Rais, jumping into one of the boats; "it is fate--no man can resist the decree of fate."

All the boats pushed swiftly off together, and did it so silently that they were close under the bow of the flag-ship before being observed. The _Leander_ also saw them, and a few guns from her, as well as from the flag-ship, were instantly turned on them.

"Musha! look there!" cried Ted Flaggan, who chanced to be on the part of the ship nearest them.

A tremendous crash followed, and thirty-three out of the thirty-seven boats were in one moment sent to the bottom!

Of the four that escaped and put about to retreat, one came within the range of the gun at which Flaggan served. It was trained to bear.

"Fire!" said the captain.

"Howld on!" cried Ted, suddenly clapping his hand on the touch-hole, and receiving the red-hot poker on the back of it.

"What's that for, mate?" demanded the man who held the poker, as he quickly raised it.

"All right, me hearty; fire away," said Ted, as he quietly removed his hand.

Next moment the gun leaped back as if affrighted at its own vomit of shot, smoke, and fire, and a column of white foam rose from the sea, astern of the boat.

The momentary check had delivered it from destruction, and Ted Flaggan had the satisfaction of knowing that he had saved his friend Rais Ali, as he tenderly patted his injured hand.

More than an hour of this heavy firing failing to produce submission, Lord Exmouth resolved to destroy the Algerine fleet. The _Leander_ was ordered to cease firing, and the flag-ship barge, under Lieutenant Richards, was ordered to board the nearest frigate of the enemy, with laboratory torches and carcass shells. This duty was gallantly performed, and so effectually, that the men of the barge had barely time to tumble over the side when the frigate was a mass of flames. The barge was received with three hearty cheers on its return. Next, the launch of the _Queen Charlotte_ opened on the largest frigate in the port with carcass shells, and despite the frantic efforts of the Algerines to save her, she was soon completely on fire. From this frigate the fire spread to all the other boats and vessels in the harbour, and from these to the storehouses and arsenal, until the whole place was wrapped in smoke and flames.

Meanwhile the other ships had done terrible execution on the walls and houses immediately opposite to them, while the bomb-vessels threw their deadly missiles right over their own ships and into the town and arsenal, with tremendous effect.

Thus the work of destruction went on all the afternoon, while men, of course, fell fast on both sides--for the deadly game of war cannot be carried on except at fearful cost. Even in the secondary matter of _materiel_ the cost is not small. As night approached the guns of the enemy were completely silenced, and the ships began to husband their ammunition, for they had by that time fired an immense quantity of gunpowder, and 50,000 shot, weighing more than 500 tons of iron; besides 960 shells of large size, as well as a considerable quantity of shot, shell, and rockets from the flotilla! The result was that the entire fleet of the pirates was destroyed, and the sea-defences of Algiers, with a great part of the town itself, were shattered and crumbled in ruins.

Then the fleet hauled off with considerable difficulty, owing to the absence of wind; but the pirates had not given in, for they kept spitting at their foes from the upper batteries of the town until half-past eleven at night, when the ships got out of range and firing ceased.

Strange to say, the powers of nature, which had hitherto slumbered quietly, now came into play. The breeze freshened and a tremendous storm of thunder, lightning, and rain came on, as if to mock the fury of man, and humble him under a sense of his relative littleness.

But man is not easily humbled. Next morning the pirates still showed a disinclination to give in, and the British fleet resumed the offensive in order to compel them to do so.

The gun-boats were again placed in position, and Lieutenant Burgess was sent ashore with a flag of truce to demand unconditional surrender.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE LAST.

In a dimly-lighted cell of a massive stone building not far from the palace of the Dey, sat Colonel Langley, Francisco Rimini and his two sons, Bacri the Jew, and the officers and men belonging to the _Prometheus_--all heavily ironed. The Padre Giovanni was also there, but not, like the others, a prisoner.

He was attending to his self-imposed duty of comforting the sick and dying. Among the other prisoners was an Italian slave, a nobleman, who had broken down on the ramparts and rebelled, and was sent to prison as being the most convenient hospital where he might be kept until the pirates should find leisure to flog him into submission or to death. But Death had a mind to do the work according to his own pleasure. The slave felt himself to be sinking, and, through the influence of Bacri with the jailer, he had been permitted to send for Giovanni. Other slaves were there too, doomed to punishment, or, in other words, to various degrees of torture. They lay or cowered around the cell awaiting the issue of the fight.

It was a terrible sight to see the varied expressions of anxiety, fear, or dogged resolution depicted in the faces of these men. Some of them knew well that death, accompanied by excruciating torture, was certain to be their portion when the bombardment should be over. Others hoped that a severe bastinado might be the worst of it. None expected anything more--even though the British should win the day--than that there would be some modification in treaties which would not extend to the slaves of foreign nations.

They all--with the exception of the Padre--maintained an almost unbroken silence during the bombardment; but their restless motions and glances showed how busy their thoughts were, and a grim smile would ever and anon curl the lips of some when a chance shot struck the building and shook it to its foundation. And oh! how anxiously one or two desperate spirits hoped that a shell would enter it, and scatter sudden death among them all!

It was solemn, and strange, too, in the midst of the interminable thunder, to hear the gentle voice of the man of God quoting from the peace-speaking Word, as he knelt beside the dying man and dwelling more especially on passages in which the loving Jesus seeks to cheer His people with prospects of rest and peace, such as--"Peace be unto you;" "Let not your hearts be troubled, ye believe in God, believe also in me;" "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Even the hardened among the wretched and demoralised sufferers there could not choose but hear and note the powerful contrast between the gentle voice of Almighty God that thus murmured within the prison, and the crashing voice of puny man that roared outside!

In the darkness of that night Bacri crept to the side of Mariano, and whispered hastily--

"I may not get another opportunity to speak to thee. Just before I came hither Angela and her sister were taken from my care by force. They are now in the palace, under the care of Zara. Omar intends to keep them."

Mariano turned to reply, but the Jew had retired noiselessly as he came.

Early in the morning after the fight the prison-door opened, and a band of Turkish soldiers entered. The garish light of day, as it streamed over the dungeon floor, revealed the fact that the shattered frame of the Italian slave had found rest at last.

The soldiers looked fagged and dishevelled. Many of them wore bandages about their heads and limbs. They did not speak, but drew up in a line, while their leader advanced with a negro, who proceeded to file the fetters from off the British consul and his countrymen. In a few minutes he led them out between the soldiers, and conducted them towards the palace.

Although the Turkish officer could not, or would not, converse with Colonel Langley, the latter had little difficulty in making a pretty good guess as to how matters stood, for on his way to the palace, short though it was, he saw devastation enough to convince him that the British had gained the day. Arrived at the palace, the party were locked up in an anteroom.

Meanwhile, in the audience-hall, which was considerably damaged by the artillery of the fleet, Omar Dey held a divan. The building in which this court had been held in former times was now a ruin, and many of the councillors who had been wont to assemble in it had gone to their last account.

Omar was very pale, and moved with difficulty, having been wounded slightly in various places. Indeed, all the statesmen who surrounded him bore marks, more or less severe, of having played a part in the late action. In the midst of an eager discussion, an attendant entered, and announced the arrival of a British officer with a flag of truce.

"Admit him," said the Dey, who, although boiling over with rage and despair, had sense enough to make up his mind to bow to the power which he could not overcome.

Immediately Lieutenant Burgess was ushered into the court, accompanied by Rais Ali in the capacity of translator, and two of his boat's crew, one of whom was, by special permission, Ted Flaggan.

Without wasting time in useless ceremony, the lieutenant ordered Rais to read aloud the paper which he had been commissioned by Lord Exmouth to deliver to the Dey.

Poor Rais Ali appeared to have expended all his bravery on the ramparts, for he trembled and grew paler as he took the paper in his hand.

"Cheer up, owld boy," whispered Flaggan, as Ali turned to advance towards the Dey; "ye've got more pluck than I guv 'ee credit for. Never say die."

Whether it was the result of these encouraging words, or desperation, we know not, but Rais immediately advanced and read the paper with considerable fluency. It ran as follows:--

"To His Highness the Dey of Algiers.

"Sir,--For your atrocities at Bona on defenceless Christians, and your unbecoming disregard of the demands I made yesterday, in the name of the Prince Regent of England, the fleet under my orders has given you a signal chastisement, by the total destruction of your navy storehouses and arsenal, with half your batteries. As England does not make war for the destruction of cities, I am unwilling to visit your personal cruelties upon the inoffensive inhabitants of the country, and I therefore offer you the same terms of peace which I conveyed to you yesterday in my Sovereign's name. Without the acceptance of these terms you can have no peace with England.

"If you receive this offer as you ought, you will fire three guns; and I shall consider your not making this signal as a refusal, and shall renew my operations at my own convenience.

"I offer you the above terms provided neither the British consul, nor the officers and men so wickedly seized by you from the boats of a British ship of war, have met with any cruel treatment, or any of the Christian slaves in your power; and I repeat my demand that the consul and officers and men may be sent off to me, conformable to ancient treaties.--I have, etcetera, Exmouth."

The terms of peace referred to ran thus:--