Soon after, one of the strangers who had entered the town the night before, was seen slowly approaching.

He was a tall, venerable-looking Arab, with a long white beard reaching down to the middle of his breast.

Having performed the pilgrimage to the Prophet's Tomb, he was ent.i.tled to the respect and hospitality of all good Mussulmans, whithersoever he might wander.

With the Krooman as interpreter, he asked many questions; and seemed to be much interested in the fate of the miserable looking objects before him.

After his inquiries had been answered as to the name of the vessel in which they had reached the country, the time they had pa.s.sed in slavery, and the manner of treatment which had produced their emaciated and wretched condition, he made other inquiries about their friends and relatives at home.

Harry informed him that Colin and himself had parents, brothers, and sisters, who were now probably mourning them as lost; that they and their two companions were sure to be ransomed, could they find some one who would take them to Mogador. He also added that their present masters had promised to take them to that place, but were now prevented from doing so, through an apprehension that they would not be rewarded for their trouble.

"I will do all I can to a.s.sist you," said El Haji, after the Krooman had given the interpretation of Harry's speech. "I owe a debt of grat.i.tude to one of your countrymen, and I shall endeavour to repay it. When in Cairo I was unwell, and in want of food. An officer belonging to an English ship of war gave me a coin of gold. That piece of money proved both life and fortune to me; for with it I was able to continue my journey, and reach my friends. We are all the children of the true G.o.d; and it is our duty to a.s.sist one another. I must have a talk with your masters."

The old pilgrim then turning to the three merchants, said--

"My friends, you have promised to take these Christian slaves to Swearah, where they might be redeemed. Are you bad men, who fear not G.o.d, that your promise should be thus broken?"

"We think that they have deceived us," answered one of the merchants, "and we are afraid to carry them within the emperor's dominions, where they might be taken from us without our receiving anything. We are poor men, and nearly all our merchandise has been given for these slaves. We cannot afford to lose them."

"You will not lose the value of them," rejoined the old man, "by taking them to Swearah. They belong to a country the Government of which will not allow its subjects to remain in bondage; and there is not an English merchant in Swearah that would not redeem them. Any one who should refuse to do so would scarce dare return to his own country again. You will make more by taking them to Swearah than anywhere else."

"But they can give themselves up to the governor when they reach Swearah," urged one of the merchants, "and we may be ordered out of the town without receiving a single dollar for them. Such has been done before. The good sheik here knows of an Arab merchant who was treated so. He lost all, while the governor got the ransom, and put it in his own pocket."

This was an argument El Haji was unable to answer; but he was not long in finding a plan for removing the difficulty thus presented.

"Do not take them within the empire of Morocco," said he, "until after you have been paid for them. Two of you can stay with them here, while the third goes on to Swearah with a letter from this young man to his friends. You have as yet no proof that he is trying to deceive you; and therefore, as true men, you have no excuse for breaking your promise to him. Take a letter to Swearah; and if the money be not paid, then do with them as you please, and the wrong will not rest upon your heads."

Bo Muzem, the youngest of the merchants, immediately seconded the pilgrim's proposal, and spoke energetically in its favour.

He observed they were but one day's journey from Agadeer, a frontier town of Morocco; and that from there Swearah could be reached in three days.

The other two for a few minutes held consultation apart; and then one of them announced that they had resolved upon following El Haji's advice.

Bo Muzem might go to Swearah as the bearer of a letter from Harry to his uncle.

"Tell the young man," said one of the merchants, addressing himself to the interpreter, "tell him from me, that if the ransom be not paid, he shall surely die on Bo Muzem's return. Tell him that."

The Krooman made the communication, and Harry without demur accepted the conditions.

A piece of dirty crumpled paper, a reed pen, and some ink, were then placed before Harry. While the letter was being written, Bo Muzem commenced making preparations for his journey.

Knowing that their only hope of liberty depended on their situation being made known to some countryman resident in Mogador, Harry took up the pen; and, with much difficulty, succeeded in scribbling the following words:--

"Sir,--Two midshipmen of H.M.S. -- (cast away a few weeks ago near Cape Blanco), and two seamen, are now held in slavery at a small town one day's journey from Agadeer. The bearer of this note is one of our masters. His business in Mogador is to learn if we will be ransomed; and if he be unsuccessful in finding any one who will pay the money to redeem us, the writer of this note is to be killed. If you cannot or will not pay the money they require (one hundred and fifty dollars for each) please direct the bearer to some one whom you think will do so.

"There is another midshipman from the same vessel, and an English sailor, one day's journey south of this place.

"Perhaps the bearer of this note, Bo Muzem, may be induced to purchase them, so that they also may be ransomed.

"Henry Blount."

This letter Harry folded, and directed to "Any English merchant in Mogador."

By the time it was written, Bo Muzem had mounted and made himself ready for the road.

After receiving the letter, he wished Harry to be informed once more, that, should the journey to Swearah prove a fruitless one, nothing but his (Harry's) life would compensate him (Bo Muzem) for the disappointment.

After promising to be back in eight days, and enjoining upon his partners to look well after their property during his absence, Bo Muzem took his departure for the port of Mogador.

CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX.

BO MUZEM'S JOURNEY.

Although an Arab merchant, Bo Muzem was an honest man, one, who in all business transactions, told the truth, and expected to hear it from others.

Notwithstanding this, he pursued his journey towards Mogador with but a faint belief that the representations made by the young Englishman would prove true, and with the determination of taking the life of the latter should he find himself deceived. He placed more faith in the story told him by the sheik than in the mere hypothesis of the pilgrim, that the white slaves would certainly find some one to ransom them.

His journey was partly undertaken through a sense of duty. After the promise made to the slaves, he thought it but right to become fully convinced that they were not to be redeemed before the idea of taking them to Mogador could be honourably abandoned.

He pressed forward upon his journey with the perseverance and self-denial so peculiar to his race. After crossing the spurs of the Atlas Mountains he reached, on the evening of the third day, a small walled town, within three hours' ride of the famed seaport of Mogador.

Here he stopped for the night, intending to proceed to the city early on the next morning. Immediately on entering the town, Bo Muzem met a person whose face wore a familiar look.

It was the grazier to whom, but a few days before, he had sold the two slaves, Terence and Jim.

"Ah my friend, you have ruined me!" exclaimed the grazier, after the first salutations had pa.s.sed between them. "I have lost those two useless Christian dogs you sold me, and I am a ruined man."

Bo Muzem requested him to explain himself.

"After your departure," said the grazier, "I tried to get some work out of the infidels; but they would not obey me; and I believed they would have died before doing anything to make themselves useful. As I am a poor man, I could not afford to keep them in idleness; nor yet to kill them, which I had a strong inclination to do. The day after you left me, I received intelligence from Swearah, which commanded me to go there immediately no business of importance; and thinking that possibly some Christian fool in that place might give something for his infidel countrymen, I took the two dogs along with me.

"They promised that, if I would carry them to the English consul, he would pay a large price for their ransom. When we entered Mogador, and reached the consul's house, the dogs told me that they were free; and defied me to take them out of the city. I could not get a piastre for my trouble and expense. The governor of Swearah and the Emperor of Morocco are on good terms with the infidels' Government; and they also hate us Arabs of the desert. There is no justice in Mogador for such as we. If you take your slaves into the city, you will lose them."

"I shall not bring them into the empire of Morocco," replied Bo Muzem, "until I have first received the money for them."

"You will never get it in Swearah. Their consul will not pay a dollar, but will try to have them liberated without giving you anything."

"But I have a letter from one of the slaves to his uncle, a rich merchant in Swearah. The uncle will pay the money."

"The slave has lied to you. He has no uncle there, and I can soon convince you that such is the case. There is now staying in this village a Mogador Jew, who is acquainted with every infidel merchant in the city, and he also understands the languages they speak. Let him see the letter."

Anxious to be convinced of whether he was being deceived or not, Bo Muzem readily agreed to this proposition; and in company with the grazier, he repaired to the house where the Jew was residing.

The latter, on being shown Harry's letter, and asked to whom it was addressed, replied--

"To any English merchant in Mogador."