The Story of the Amulet - E. Nesbit (smart books to read TXT) 📗

“What is this place?” asked Cyril.

“Tyre, of course,” said the man. Then he drew back and spoke in a low voice to one of the sailors.

“Now we shall know about your precious cream-jug fish,” said Cyril.

“But we never said come to Tyre,” said Jane.

“The Amulet heard us talking, I expect. I think it’s most obliging of it,” said Anthea.

“And the Amulet’s here too,” said Robert. “We ought to be able to find it in a little ship like this. I wonder which of them’s got it.”

“Oh⁠—look, look!” cried Anthea suddenly. On the bare breast of one of the sailors gleamed something red. It was the exact counterpart of their precious half-Amulet.

A silence, full of emotion, was broken by Jane.

“Then we’ve found it!” she said. “Oh do let’s take it and go home!”

“Easy to say ‘take it,’ ” said Cyril; “he looks very strong.”

He did⁠—yet not so strong as the other sailors.

“It’s odd,” said Anthea musingly, “I do believe I’ve seen that man somewhere before.”

“He’s rather like our learned gentleman,” said Robert, “but I’ll tell you who he’s much more like⁠—”

At that moment that sailor looked up. His eyes met Robert’s⁠—and Robert and the others had no longer any doubt as to where they had seen him before. It was Rekh-marā, the priest who had led them to the palace of Pharaoh⁠—and whom Jane had looked back at through the arch, when he was counselling Pharaoh’s guard to take the jewels and fly for his life.

Nobody was quite pleased, and nobody quite knew why.

Jane voiced the feelings of all when she said, fingering their Amulet through the folds of her frock, “We can go back in a minute if anything nasty happens.”

For the moment nothing worse happened than an offer of food⁠—figs and cucumbers it was, and very pleasant.

“I see,” said the Captain, “that you are from a far country. Since you have honoured my boat by appearing on it, you must stay here till morning. Then I will lead you to one of our great ones. He loves strangers from far lands.”

“Let’s go home,” Jane whispered, “all the frogs are drowning now. I think the people here are cruel.”

But the boys wanted to stay and see the lines taken up in the morning.

“It’s just like eel-pots and lobster-pots,” said Cyril, “the baskets only open from outside⁠—I vote we stay.”

So they stayed.

“That’s Tyre over there,” said the Captain, who was evidently trying to be civil. He pointed to a great island rock, that rose steeply from the sea, crowned with huge walls and towers. There was another city on the mainland.

“That’s part of Tyre, too,” said the Captain; “it’s where the great merchants have their pleasure-houses and gardens and farms.”

“Look, look!” Cyril cried suddenly; “what a lovely little ship!”

A ship in full sail was passing swiftly through the fishing fleet. The Captain’s face changed. He frowned, and his eyes blazed with fury.

“Insolent young barbarian!” he cried. “Do you call the ships of Tyre little? None greater sail the seas. That ship has been on a three years’ voyage. She is known in all the great trading ports from here to the Tin Islands. She comes back rich and glorious. Her very anchor is of silver.”

“I’m sure we beg your pardon,” said Anthea hastily. “In our country we say ‘little’ for a pet name. Your wife might call you her dear little husband, you know.”

“I should like to catch her at it,” growled the Captain, but he stopped scowling.

“It’s a rich trade,” he went on. “For cloth once dipped, second-best glass, and the rough images our young artists carve for practice, the barbarian King in Tessos lets us work the silver mines. We get so much silver there that we leave them our iron anchors and come back with silver ones.”

“How splendid!” said Robert. “Do go on. What’s cloth once dipped?”

“You must be barbarians from the outer darkness,” said the Captain scornfully. “All wealthy nations know that our finest stuffs are twice dyed⁠—dibaptha. They’re only for the robes of kings and priests and princes.”

“What do the rich merchants wear,” asked Jane, with interest, “in the pleasure-houses?”

“They wear the dibaptha. Our merchants are princes,” scowled the skipper.

“Oh, don’t be cross, we do so like hearing about things. We want to know all about the dyeing,” said Anthea cordially.

“Oh, you do, do you?” growled the man. “So that’s what you’re here for? Well, you won’t get the secrets of the dye trade out of me.”

He went away, and everyone felt snubbed and uncomfortable. And all the time the long, narrow eyes of the Egyptian were watching, watching. They felt as though he was watching them through the darkness, when they lay down to sleep on a pile of cloaks.

Next morning the baskets were drawn up full of what looked like whelk shells.

The children were rather in the way, but they made themselves as small as they could. While the skipper was at the other end of the boat they did ask one question of a sailor, whose face was a little less unkind than the others.

“Yes,” he answered, “this is the dye-fish. It’s a sort of murex⁠—and there’s another kind that they catch at Sidon and then, of course, there’s the kind that’s used for the dibaptha. But that’s quite different. It’s⁠—”

“Hold your tongue!” shouted the skipper. And the man held it.

The laden boat was rowed slowly round the end of the island, and was made fast in one of the two great harbours that lay inside a long breakwater. The harbour was full of all sorts of ships, so that Cyril and Robert enjoyed themselves much more than their sisters. The breakwater and the quays were heaped with bales and baskets, and crowded with slaves and sailors. Farther along some men were practising diving.

“That’s jolly good,” said Robert, as a naked brown body cleft the water.

“I should think so,” said the skipper. “The pearl-divers of Persia are not more skilful. Why, we’ve got a freshwater spring that comes out at the