The Pirate City - Robert Michael Ballantyne (grave mercy TXT) 📗

other circumstances Mariano would certainly have engaged in a struggle for the dagger, but remembering Angela and the Jew's warning, he gave back, and said in French, as well as the vice-like grip would allow--

"A friend."

"Truly," replied the man gruffly, in Lingua Franca, "thy knock might imply friendship, but thine appearance here at such an hour requires more explanation than a mere assurance."

"Remove your hand and you shall have it," replied the youth, somewhat angrily. "Dost suppose that if I had been other than a friend I would not have ere now flung thee headlong from thine own terrace?"

"Speak quickly, then," returned the man, relaxing his hold a little.

"This ring," said the youth.

"Ha! Enough, a sure token," interrupted the Jew, in a low friendly tone, on seeing the ring, at the same time leading Mariano within the doorway. "What wouldst thou?"

"Nothing more than to be shown the nearest way to the street."

"That is soon done--follow me."

In a few minutes Mariano found himself in a narrow street, down which, after lighting his lantern and thanking the Jew, he proceeded at a rapid pace.

In the intricacies of that curious old town the youth would certainly have lost himself, but for the fact that it was built, as we have said, on the slope of a hill, so that all he had to do was to keep descending, in order to secure his final exit into the principal thoroughfare-- Bab-Azoun.

Few persons met him at that hour, and these appeared desirous of avoiding observation. After passing the Bagnio with a shudder, he extinguished the lantern. And now the real danger of his enterprise had begun, because he was acting illegally in traversing the streets after dark without a light, and liable to be taken up and punished by any of the guards who should find him. He proceeded therefore with great caution; keeping close to the walls in the darkest places, and gliding into doorways to hide when any one approached. Thus he succeeded escaping observation, and had almost reached the city wall, not far from the spot where it was garnished by poor Castello's head, when he heard the tramp of soldiers. They were about to turn a corner which would in another second have brought him full into view. To retreat was impossible, and no friendly doorway stood open to receive him. In this extremity he pressed himself into a niche formed by a pillar and an angle of the house beside him. It could not have concealed him in ordinary circumstances, but aided by darkness there was some possibility of escaping notice. Crushing himself against the wall with all his might, and wishing with all his heart that he had been a smaller man, he breathlessly awaited the passing of the soldiers.


CHAPTER FIFTEEN.


IN WHICH TED FLAGGAN AND HIS FRIEND RAIS ALI ACT A CONSCIOUS PART, AND A POLITICAL STORM BEGINS TO BREAK.

There is unquestionably many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, but on the present occasion there was no such slip. Mariano succeeded in diminishing and flattening himself to such an extent that the janissaries passed without observing him. The moment they were out of sight he glided from his hiding-place, and soon found his way to the top of the ramparts, near the Bab-Azoun gate. The head of Castello was at his elbow; the wearied Turkish sentinel was not a hundred yards distant Mariano could see him clearly defined against the eastern sky every time he reached the end of his beat.

"If he takes it into his head to walk this way, I am lost," thought Mariano.

It seemed as if the man had heard the thought, for he walked slowly towards the spot where the youth lay at full length on the ground. There was no mound or niche or coping of any kind behind which a man might conceal himself. The dead man's head was the only object that broke the uniformity of the wall. In desperation, Mariano lay down with it between himself and the advancing sentinel, and crept close to it--so close that while he lay there he fancied that a drop of something cold fell from it and mingled with the perspiration that stood in large beads upon his brow!

The sentinel stopped just as Mariano was preparing to spring upon and endeavour to strangle him. He looked earnestly and long in the direction of the dead man's head, as if in meditation on its owner's untimely fate, or, possibly, on the unusual length and solidity of the shadow that tailed away from it!

Fortunately he advanced no further, but, turning on his heel, walked slowly away. Just then the moon shot forth a ray of light from the midst of the cloud that had covered it, as if to cheer the fugitive on his desperate adventure. Instead of cheering, however, it alarmed him, and expedited his movements.

In a moment Mariano put a loop of his rope over the head and drew it tight on the spike close to the masonry. Another moment and he was over the parapet, down the wall, and into the ditch. Here again unusual caution was needful, but the youth's cat-like activity enabled him to overcome all obstacles. In a few minutes he was speeding over the Sahel hills in the direction of Frais Vallon.

We need scarcely say that wind and muscle were tried to their uttermost that night. In an incredibly short space of time he reached the gate of the consul's garden, which stood open, and darted in.

Now it chanced that night that the stout British seaman, Ted Flaggan, lay in a hammock suspended between two trees in a retired part of the consul's garden, the weather being so warm that not only he but several of the other domestics had forsaken their dwellings during the night, and lay about the grounds in various contrivances more or less convenient, according to the fancy or mechanical aptitude of the makers thereof.

Flaggan had, out of pure good-will, slung a primitive hammock similar to his own between two trees near him for his friend Rais Ali, in which the valiant Moor lay sound asleep, with his prominent brown nose pointing upwards to the sky, and his long brown legs hanging over the sides. Ted himself lay in a wakeful mood. He had fought unsuccessfully for some hours against a whole army of mosquitoes, and now, having given in, allowed the savage insects to devour him unchecked.

But the poor victim found it difficult to lie awake and suffer without occupation of any kind; he therefore arose and cut from a neighbouring hedge a light reed which was long enough to reach from his own hammock to that of his friend. With the delicate end of this, while reclining at his ease, he gently tickled Rais Ali's nose.

After making several sleepy efforts to kill the supposed insect that troubled him, and giving vent to three or four violent sneezes, the interpreter awoke, and, growling something in Arabic, opened his eyes, which act enabled him to observe that his neighbour was awake and smiling at him.

"Ha! yous not be for sleep, hey? Mos' troubelzum brutes dem muskitoes."

"Och! it's little I mind 'em," said Flaggan.

"W'y you no for sleep, den?" demanded Rais.

"'Cos I likes to meditate, young man, specially w'en I've got sitch a splendid subjic' of contemplation before me as a slumberin' Moor! Won't ye go in for a little moor slumberin', eh?"

Rais turned his back on his friend with an indignant growl. He was evidently indisposed for jesting.

In a few seconds, being indifferent to real mosquitoes, the Moor was again sound asleep. It was soon clear, however, that he was not indifferent to Ted's artificial insect. Being unable now to reach his nose, the restless son of Erin thrust the feathery point of the reed into his friend's ear. The result was that Rais Ali gave himself a sounding slap on the side of the head, to Ted's inexpressible delight. When Rais indicated that he was "off" again, he received another touch, which resulted in a second slap and a savage growl, as the unfortunate man sat up and yawned.

"They seems wuss than ornar," said Flaggan gravely.

"Wuss? I nebber know'd noting wusser," replied Rais, with a look of sleepy exasperation. "Beats ebberyting. Been five-an'-twenty 'eer in de kontry, an' _nebber_ seed de like."

"_Seed_ the like!" echoed the seaman. "Did ye saw 'em when ye was aslape?"

"Feel um, then," replied the other sulkily; "yoos too purtikler."

"Suppose we goes an' has a whiff?" suggested Flaggan, leaping to the ground. "It's a fine night entirely, tho' a dark 'un. Come, I'll trate ye to a taste o' me cavendish, which is better than growlin' in yer hammock at the muskaities, poor things, as don't know no better."

Feeling that the advice was good, or perhaps tempted by the offer of a "taste" of his friend's peculiarly good tobacco, the interpreter arose, calmly made a paper cigarette, while Flaggan loaded his "cutty," and then accompanied him in a saunter down the road leading to the gate.

"Ally," began the seaman, making a stopper of the end of his little finger--"by the way, you ain't related, are you, to the famous Ally Babby as was capting of the forty thieves?"

"No, nuffin ob de sort," replied Ali, shaking his head.

"Well, no matter, you deserve to be; but that's neither here nor there. What I was agoing to say is, that it's my opinion that fellow Seedy Hassan ain't all fair an' above board."

Ted glanced keenly at his companion, for he had made the remark as a sort of feeler.

"W'at de matter wid um?" asked Rais carelessly.

"Oh, nothin'--I only thought you might know somethin' about him. _I_ doesn't, only I'm a dab at what's called in Ireland fizzyognomy, an? I don't like the looks of him. Why, bless ye, I knows a feller by the cut of his jib directly. I could have taken my davy, now, that you were a sly, clever sort o' chap, even before I was introduced to 'ee, d'ee see?"

Whether he saw or not remains to this day an uncertainty, for it was at that moment that, as before stated, Mariano rushed in at the gate, and, unintentionally, into the arms of Rais Ali, who uttered a loud cry and flung him off with a kick that unfortunately took effect on the youth's shin.

Supposing that he was intercepted, afraid lest his mission should miscarry, and angered by the pain, Mariano lost the power of self-restraint which he had hitherto exercised so well that night. He rushed at the interpreter and hit him a blow on the forehead that caused him to tumble backwards violently.

The act was scarcely done when the youth found himself in the embrace of Ted Flaggan, and, strong though he was, he found it impossible to throw off, or to free himself from, that sturdy tar. Still he struggled fiercely, and there is no saying what might have been the result, had not Rais, recovering from the blow, hastened to his friend's aid.

Between them they succeeded in securing Mariano, and, with a handkerchief tied his hands behind him.

"Now then, young feller," said Flaggan,