Old Bill could see that there was some quarrel between the two sheiks, of which he was himself the cause; that the camp was not a unity consisting of a single chief, his family, and following; but that there were two separate leaders, each with his adherents, perhaps temporarily a.s.sociated together for purposes of plunder.

That they had collected the wreck of the corvette, and divided the spoils between them, was evident from the two heaps being kept carefully apart, each piled up near the tent of a chief.

The old man-o'-war's-man made his observations in the midst of great difficulties; for while noting these particulars, he was pulled about the place, first by one sheik, then by the other, each retaining his disputed person in temporary possession.

From the manner in which they acted, he could tell that it was his person that was the subject of dispute, and that both wanted to be the proprietor of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE TWO SHEIKS.

There was a remarkable difference between the two men thus claiming ownership in the body of Old Bill. One was a little weazen-faced individual, whose yellow complexion and sharp angular features proclaimed him of the Arab stock; while his compet.i.tor showed a skin of almost ebon blackness, a frame of herculean development, a broad face, with flat nose and thick lubberly lips, a head of enormous circ.u.mference, surmounted by a mop of woolly hair, standing erect several inches above his occiput.

Had the sailor been addicted to ethnological speculations, he might have derived an interesting lesson from that contest, of which he was the cause. It might have helped him to a knowledge of the geography of the country in which he had been cast, for he was now upon that neutral territory where the true Ethiopian, the son of Ham, occasionally contests possession, both of the soil and the slave, with the wandering children of j.a.phet.

The two men who were thus quarrelling about the possession of the English tar, though both of African origin, could scarce have been more unlike had their native countries been the antipodes of each other.

Their object was not so different, though even in this there was a certain dissimilation. Both designed making the shipwrecked sailor a slave. But the sheik of Arabs aspects wished to possess him, with a view to his ultimate ransom. He knew that by carrying him northwards there would be a chance to dispose of him at a good price, either to the Jew merchants at Wedinoin, or the European consuls at Mogador. It would not be the first Saaran castaway he had in this manner restored to his friends and his country, not from any motives of humanity, but simply for the profit it produced.

On the other hand, the black compet.i.tor had a different, though somewhat similar, purpose in view. His thoughts extended towards the south.

There lay the emporium of his commerce, the great mud-built town of Timbuctoo. Little as a white man was esteemed among the Arab merchants when considered as a mere slave, the sable sheik knew that in the south of the Saara he would command a price, if only as a curiosity to figure among the followers of the sultan of some grand interior city. For this reason, therefore, was the black determined upon the possession of Bill, and showed as much eagerness to become his owner as did his tawny compet.i.tor.

After several minutes spent in words and gestures of mutual menace, which, from the wild shouts and flourishing of scimitars, seemed as if it could only end in a general lopping off of heads, somewhat to the astonishment of the sailor tranquillity became restored without any one receiving scratch or cut.

The scimitars were returned to their scabbards; and although the affair did not appear to be decided, the contest was now carried on in a more pacific fashion by words. A long argument ensued, in which both sheik displayed their oratorial powers. Though the sailor could not understand a word of what was said, he could tell that the little Arab was urging his ownership, on the plea that the camel which had carried the captive into the encampment was his property, and on this account was he ent.i.tled to the "waif."

The black seemed altogether to dissent from this doctrine; on his side pointing to the two heaps of plunder; as much as to say that his share of the spoils, already obtained, was the smaller one.

At this crisis a third party stepped between the two disputants, a young fellow, who appeared to have some authority with both. His behaviour told Bill that he was acting as mediator. Whatever was the proposal made by him, it appeared to satisfy both parties, as both at once desisted from their wordy warfare, at the same time that they seemed preparing to settle the dispute in some other way.

The mode was soon made apparent. A spot of smooth even sand was selected by the side of the encampment, to which the two sheiks, followed by their respective parties, repaired.

A square figure was traced out, inside of which several rows of little round holes were scooped in the sand, and then the rival sheiks sat down, one on each side of the figure. Each had already provided himself with a number of pellets of camels' dung, which were now placed in the holes, and the play of "helga" was now commenced.

Whoever won the game was to become possessed of the single stake, which was neither more nor less than Sailor Bill.

The game proceeded by the shifting of the dung pellets in a particular fashion, from hole to hole, somewhat similar to the moving of draughts upon the squares of a chequer-board.

During the play not a word was spoken by either party, the two sheiks squatting opposite each other, and making their moves with as much gravity as a pair of chess-players engaged in some grand tournament of this intellectual game.

It was only when the affair ended that the noise broke forth again, which it did in loud triumphant shouts from the conquering party, with expressions of chagrin on the side of the conquered.

By interpreting these shouts Bill could tell that he had fallen to the black; and this was soon after placed beyond doubt by the latter coming up and taking possession of him.

It appeared, however, that there had been certain subsiding conditions to the play; and that the sailor had been in some way or another staked against his own clothes, for before being fully appropriated by his owner he was stripped to his shirt, and his habiliments, shoes and sou'wester included, were handed over to the sheik who had played second-best in the game of "helga". In this forlorn condition was the old sailor conducted to the tent of his sable master, and placed like an additional piece upon the pile of plunder already apportioned.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

SAILOR BILL BESHREWED.

Sailor Bill said not a word. He had no voice in the disposal of the stakes, which were himself and his "toggery", and, knowing this, he remained silent.

He was not allowed to remain undisturbed. During the progress of the game, he had become the cynosure of a large circle of eyes, belonging to the women and children of the united tribes.

He might have looked for some compa.s.sion, at least, from the female portion of those who formed his _entourage_. Half famished with hunger, a fact which he did not fail to communicate by signs, he might have expected them to relieve his wants. The circ.u.mstance of his making them known might argue that he did expect some sort of kind treatment.

It was not much, however. His hopes were but slight, and sprang rather from a knowledge of his own necessities, and of what the women ought to have done, than what they were likely to do. Old Bill had heard too much of the character of these hags of the Saara, and their mode of conducting themselves towards any unfortunate castaway who might be drifted among them, to expect any great hospitality at their hands.

His hopes, therefore, were moderate; but, for all that, they were doomed to disappointment.

Perhaps in no other part of the world is the "milk of human kindness" so completely wanting in the female breast as among the women of the wandering Arabs of Africa. Slaves to their imperious lords, even when enjoying the sacred t.i.tle of wife, they are themselves treated worse than the animals which they have to manage and tend, even worse at times than their own bond-slaves, with whom they mingle almost on an equality.

As in all like cases, this harsh usage, instead of producing sympathy for others who suffer, has the very opposite tendency; as if they found some alleviation of their cruel lot in imitating the brutality of their oppressors.

Instead of receiving kindness, the old sailor became the recipient of insults; not only from their tongues, which he could not understand, but by acts and gestures which were perfectly comprehensible to him.

While his ears were dinned by virulent speeches which, could he have comprehended them, would have told him how much he was despised for being an infidel, and not a follower of the true Prophet; while his eyes were well-nigh put out by dust thrown in his face, accompanied by spiteful expectorations, his body was belaboured by sticks, his skin scratched and p.r.i.c.ked with sharp thorns, his whiskers lugged almost to the dislocation of his jaws, and the hair of his head uprooted in fistfuls from his pericranium.

All this, too, amid screams and fiendish laughter that resembled an orgie of furies.

These women--she-devils they better deserved to be called--were simply following out the teachings of their inhuman faith among religions, even that of Rome not excepted, the most inhuman that has ever cursed mankind. Had Old Bill been a believer in their "Prophet," that false seer of the blood-stained sword, their treatment of him would have been directly the reverse. Instead of kicks and cuffs, hustlings and scratchings, he would have been made welcome to a share in such hospitality as they could have bestowed upon him. It was religion, not nature, made them act as they did. Their hardness of heart came not from G.o.d, but the Prophet. They were only carrying out the edicts of their "priests of a b.l.o.o.d.y faith."

In vain did the old man-o'-war's-man cry out "belay" and "avast". In vain did he "shiver his timbers", and appeal against their scurvy treatment by looks, words, and gesture.

These seemed only to augment the mirth and spitefulness of his tormentors.

In this scene of cruelty there was one woman conspicuous among the rest.

By her companions she was called Fatima. The old sailor, ignorant of Arabic feminine names, thought it a "misnomer", for of all his she-persecutors she was the leanest and scraggiest. Notwithstanding the poetical notions which the readers of Oriental romance might a.s.sociate with her name, there was not much poetry about the personage who so a.s.siduously a.s.saulted Sailor Bill, pulling his whiskers, slapping his cheeks, and every now and then spitting in his face.

She was something more than middle-aged, short squat, and meagre, with the eye-teeth projecting on both sides so as to hold up the upper lip and exhibit all the others in their ivory whiteness, with an expression resembling that of the hyena. This is considered beauty, a fashion in full vogue among her country-women who cultivate it with great care, though to the eyes of the old sailor it rendered the hag all the more hideous.

But the skinning of the eye-teeth was not the only attempt at ornament made by this belle of the desert. Strings of black beads hung over her wrinkled bosom, circlets of white bone were set in her hair, armlets and bangles adorned her wrists and ankles, and altogether did her costume and behaviour betoken one distinguished among the crowd of his persecutors, in short, their sultana or queen.

And such did she prove; for on the black sheik appropriating the old sailor as a stake fairly won in the game, and rescuing his newly acquired property from the danger of being damaged, Fatima followed him to his tent with such demonstrations as showed her to be if not the "favourite", certainly the head of the harem.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

STARTING ON THE TRACK.

As already said, the mirth of the three midshipmen was brought to a quick termination. It ended on the instant of Sailor Bill's disappearance behind the spur of the sand-hills. At the same instant all three came to a stop, and stood regarding one another with looks of uneasiness and apprehension.

All agreed that the maherry had made away with the old man-o'-war's-man.

There could be no doubt about it. Bill's shouts, as he was hurried out of their hearing, proved that he was doing his best to bring to, and that the "ship of the desert" would not yield obedience to her helm.