THE TALE OF THE ENGLISH SAILOR.* HAVE an infidel in the courtyard," replied Mustapha, "who telleth of strange things. He hath been caught like a wild beast; it is a Frank Galiongi, who hath travelled as far as that son of Shitan, Huckaback; he was found in the streets, overpowered by the forbidden juice, after having beaten many of your highness's subjects; and the cadi would have administered the bamboo, but he was as a lion, and he scattered the slaves as chaff, until he fell, and could not rise again. I have taken him from the cadi, and brought him here. He speaketh but the Frankish tongue, but the sun who shineth on me knoweth I have been in the Frank country, and Inshallah! please the Lord, I can interpret his meaning." "What sort of a man may he be, Mustapha ?" "He is a baj baj-a stout man; he is an anhunkher, a swallower of iron. He hath sailed in the war-vessels of the Franks. He holdeth in one hand a bottle of the forbidden liquor, in the other he shakes at those who would examine him a thick stick. He hath a large handful of the precious weed which we use for our pipes in one of his cheeks, and his hair is hanging behind down to his weist, in a rolled-up mass, as thick as the arm of your slave." "It is well-we will admit him; but let there be armed men at hand. Let me have a full pipe. God is great," continued the pacha, holding out his glass to be filled; "and the bottle is nearly empty. Place the guards, and bring in the infidel." The guards in a few minutes brought into the presence of the pacha a stout-built English sailor, in the usual dress, and with a tail which hung down behind, below his waist. The sailor did not appear to like his treatment, and every now and then, as they pushed and dragged him in, turned to one side or the other, looking daggers at those who conducted him. He was sober, although his eyes bore testimony to recent intoxication; and his face, which was manly and handsome, was much disfigured by an enormous quid of tobacco in his right cheek, which gave him an appearance of natural deformity. As soon as he was near enough to the pacha the attendants let him go. Jack shook his jacket, hitched up his trowsers, and said, looking furiously at them, "Well, you beggars, have you done with me at last?" From Mustapha addressed the sailor in English, telling him that he was in the presence of his highness the pacha. "What, that old chap muffled up in shawls and furs-is he the pacha? Well, I don't think much o' he;" and the sailor turned his eyes round the room, gaping with astonishment, and perfectly unmindful how very near he was to one who could cut off his head or his tail by a single movement of his hand." "What sayeth the Frank, Mustapha ?" inquired the pacha. "He is struck dumb with astonishment at the splendour of your majesty, and all that he beholds." "It is well said, by Allah!" 66 "I suppose I may just as well come to an anchor," said the sailor, suiting the action to the word, and dropping down on the mats. "There,” continued he, folding his legs in imitation of the Turks, as it's the fashion to have a cross in your hawse in this here country, I can be a bit of a lubber as well as yourselves; I wouldn't mind if I blew a cloud as well as you, old fustymusty." "What does the Giaour say? What son of a dog is this, to sit in our presence?" exclaimed the pacha. "He saith," replied Mustapha, "that in his country no one dare stand in the presence of the Frankish king; and, overcome by his humility, his legs refuse their office, and he sinks to the dust before you. It is even as he sayeth, for I have travelled in their country, and such is the custom of that uncivilized nation. Mashallah! but he lives in awe and trembling." "By the beard of the prophet, he does not appear to show it outwardly," replied the pacha; "but that may be the custom also." "Be chesm, on my eyes be it," replied Mustapha, "it is even so. Frank," said Mustapha, "the pacha has sent for you that he may hear an account of all the wonderful things which you have seen. You must tell lies, and you will have gold." "Tell lies that is, to spin a yarn; well, I can do that, but my mouth's baked with thirst, and without a drop of something no yarn from me, and so you may tell the old billy-goat perched up there." "What sayeth the son of Shitan?" demanded the pacha, impatiently. "The Pacha of Many Tales." By kind permission of Messrs. Routledge and Sons. "The unbeliever declareth that his tongue is glued to his mouth from the terror of your highness's presence. He fainteth after water to restore him, and enable him to speak." "Let him be fed," rejoined the pacha. ment. But Mustapha had heard enough to know that the sailor would not be content with the pure eleHe therefore continued, "Your slave must tell you that in the country of the Franks they drink nothing but the fire-water, in which the true believers but occasionally venture to indulge." "Allah acbar! nothing but fire-water? What, then, do they do with common water?" "They have none but from heaven-the rivers are all of the same strength." "Mashallah, how wonderful is God! I would we had a river here. Let some be procured, then, for I wish to hear his story." A bottle of brandy was sent for, and handed to the sailor, who put it to his mouth, and the quantity he took of it before he removed the bottle to recover his breath, fully convinced the pacha that Mustapha's assertions were true. "Come, that's not so bad," said the sailor, putting the bottle down between his legs; "and now I'll be as good as my word, and I'll spin old Billy a yarn as long as the maintop-bowling." "What sayeth the Giaour?" interrupted the pacha. "That he is about to lay at your highness's feet the wonderful events of his life, and trusts that his face will be whitened before he quits your sublime presence. Frank, you may proceed." "To lie till I'm black in the face-well, since you wish it; but, old chap, my name ar'n't Frank. It happens to be Bill; howsomever, it warn't a bad guess for a Turk. "I was born at Shields, and bred to the sea, served my time out of that port, and got a berth on board a small vessel fitted out from Liverpool for the slave trade. We made the coast, unstowed our beads, spirits, and gunpowder, and very soon had a cargo on board; but the day after we sailed for the Havannah, the dysentery broke out among the niggers-no wonder, seeing how they were stowed, poor devils, head and tail, like pilchards in a cask. We opened the hatches and brought part of them on deck, but it was no use, they died like rotten sheep, and we tossed overboard about thirty a day. Many others, who were alive, jumped overboard, and we were followed by a shoal of sharks, splashing and darting, and diving, and tearing the bodies, yet warm, and revelling in the hot and bloody water. At last they were all gone, and we turned back to the coast to get a fresh supply. We were within a day's sail of the land, when we saw two boats on our weather bow; they made signals to us, and we found them to be full of men: we hoveto, and took them on board, and then it was that we discovered that they had belonged to a French schooner, in the same trade, which had started a plank, and had gone down like a shot, with all the niggers in the hold. "Now give the old gentleman the small change of that, while I just wet my whistle." Mustapha having interpreted, and the sailor having taken a swig at the bottle, he proceeded. "We didn't much like having these French beggars on board, and it wasn't without reason, for they were as many as we were. The very first night they were overheard by ȧ negro who belonged to us, and had learnt French, making a plan for overpowering us, and taking possession of the vessel; so when we heard that, their doom was sealed. We mustered ourselves on deck, put the hatches over some o' the French, seized those on deck, and-in half an hour, they all walked the plank." "I do not understand what you mean," said Mustapha. "That's 'cause your'e a lubber of a landsman. The long and short of walking a plank is just this. We passed a wide plank over the gunnel, greasing it well at the outer end, led the Frenchmen up to it blindfolded, and wished them 'bon voyage' in their own lingo, just out of politeness. They walked on till they toppled into the sea, and the sharks didn't refuse them, though they prefer a nigger to anything else." "What does he say Mustapha ?" interrupted the pacha. Mustapha interpreted. "Good! I should like to have seen that," replied the pacha. "Well, as soon as we were rid of the Frenchmen, we made our port, and soon had another cargo on board, and, after a good run, got safe to the Havannah, where we sold our slaves; but I didn't much like the service, so I cut the schooner, and sailed home in summer, and got safe back to England. There I fell in with Betsy, and, as she proved a regular out-and-outer, I spliced her, and a famous wedding we had of it, as long as the rhino lasted ; but that wasn't long, more's the pity; so I went to sea for more. When I came back after my trip I found that Bet hadn't behaved quite so well as she might have done, so I cut my stick, and went away from her altogether." "Why didn't you put her in a sack?" inquired the pacha, when Mustapha explained. "Put her head in a bag-no; she wasn't so ugly as all that," replied the sailor. "Howsomever, to coil away I joined a privateer brig, and after three cruises I had plenty of money, and determined to have another spell on shore, that I might get rid of it. Then I picked up Sue, and spliced again; but, "What will you give?' "Will you throw a glass of grog into the bargain?' “Yes,' says he. "Then she's yours; and I wish you much joy of your bargain.' So I hands the rope to him, and he leads her off." "How much do you say he sold his wife for?" said the pacha to Mustapha, when this part of the story was repeated to him. "A piastre and a drink of the fire-water," replied the vizier. "Ask him if she was handsome," said the pacha. "Handsome!" replied the sailor to Mustapha's inquiry; "yes, she was as pretty a craft to look at as you may set your eyes upon." 'More!" replied the sailor, in answer to Mustapha; "you may have a shipful in an hour. There's many a fellow in England who would give a handful of coin to get rid of his wife." "We will make further inquiry, Mustapha; it must be looked to. Say I not well?" "It is well said," replied Mustapha. "My heart is burnt as roast meat at the recollection of the women of that country, who are indeed, as he described, houris to the sight. Proceed, Yaha Bibby, my friend, and tell his "Yaw Bibby! I told you my name was Bill, not Bibby; and I never yaws from my course, although I heaves-to sometimes, as I do now, to take in provisions." The sailor took another swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and continued— "Now for a good lie. "I sailed in a brig for the Brazils, and a gale came on, that I never see'd the like of. We were obliged to have three men stationed to hold the captain's hair on his head, and a little boy was blown over the moon, and slid down by two or three of her beams, till he caught the mainstay, and never hurt himself." "Good!" said Mustapha, who interpreted. "By the beard of the Prophet, wonderful!" exclaimed the pacha. "Well, the gale lasted for a week, and at last one night, when I was at the helm, we dashed on the rocks of a desolate island. I was pitched right over the mountains, and fell into the sea on the other side of the island. I swam on shore, and got into a cave, where I fell fast asleep. The next morning I found that there was nothing to eat except rats, and they were plentiful; but they were so quick that I could not catch them. I walked about and at last discovered a great many rats together; they were at a spring of water, the only one, as I afterwards found, on the island. Rats can't do without water, and I thought I should have them there. I filled up the spring, all but a hole, which I sat on the top of. When the rats came again I filled my mouth with water, and held it wide open; they ran up to drink and I caught their heads in my teeth, and thus I took as many as I wished." "Aferin, excellent!" cried the pacha, as soon as this was explained. "Well, at last a vessel took me off, and I wasn't sorry for it, for raw rats are not very good eating. I went home again, and I hadn't been on shore more than two hours, when who should I see but my first wife Bet, with a robin-redbreast in tow. 'That's he,' says she. I gave fight, but was nabbed and put into limbo, to be tried for what they call biggery, or having a wife too much." "How does he mean? Desire him to explain," said the pacha, after Mustapha had conveyed the intelligence. Mustapha obeyed. "In our country one wife is considered a man's allowance; and he is not to take more, that every Jack may have his Jill. I had spliced two, so they tried me, and sent me to Botany Bay for life." “Well,” rejoined the pacha, "what are they but infidels? They deserve to have no more. Houris are for the faithful. May their fathers' graves be defiled. Let the Giaour proceed." "Well, I was started for the other side of the water, and got there safe enough, as I hope one day to get to heaven, wind and weather permitting; but I had no idea of working without pay, so one fine morning I slipped away into the woods, where I remained with three or four more for six months. We lived upon kangaroos, and another odd little animal, and got on pretty well." "What may the dish of kangaroos be composed of?" inquired Mustapha, in obedience to the pacha. "Posed of! why, a dish of kangaroos be made of kangaroos, to be sure. But I'll be dished if I "BESSIE STOLE INTO THE NURSERY TO HAVE ANOTHER PEEP AT HER CHILD.'" nursery, "to have another peep at her child," she disengaged herself from the embrace, and saying, said. "You ought to have been asleep long ago," Lucy remarked, rebukingly; but Bessie explained she had been writing to her father a very long letter on an important subject, which Alick was going to take to town with him. "About your marriage?" Lucy inquired, and Bessie answered "Yes." "If we talk any more we shall waken Lally," the girl added. "Good night, Lucy-good night, my bad child-my poor little Lally!" And stooping, she put her lips to Lally's hand, which lay outside the coverlet, and kissed it softly. When she lifted her head, Lucy saw that her eyes were full of tears. "We shall waken Lally; there is nothing the matter with me," left the room-her face buried in her handkerchief, sobbing as she went. Lucy would have followed her, but Bessie motioned her not to do so. Then, gliding noiselessly along the passage, she entered her own room, and Agnes heard the key turned in the lock. Some hours afterwards, when Heather, as was her custom, came to relieve the watcher, Lucy expressed her fear that Bessie could not be well. "She cried so bitterly," the girl explained. Hearing this, Mrs. Dudley went to Bessie's door, and quietly turned the handle. Contrary to her expectations, the bolt was not drawn inside, and she stepped into the apartment. In the darkness she stood, holding her breath and listening. Bessie was asleep. Heather heard the regular respiration of what she considered sound slumber, and felt satisfied. "I do not imagine she can be ill," Mrs. Dudley remarked, on her return to Lucy. "She is sleeping quietly enough now, at all events. Tell me, dear," she added, "have you heard any noise at all during the night? I fancied I caught a sound something like footsteps crunching on the gravel, and got up to see. Arthur said it was all my fancy. Did you hear anything?" 66 No," Lucy replied, "nothing whatever. Bessie was down-stairs again, you know, leaving out that letter for Alick to take to town; but she was very quiet, I do not think you could have heard her." "It was my fancy, I suppose,' ," remarked Heather, "I have felt restless and nervous all the night long. I was quite glad, when four o'clock struck, to get up. Now, go to bed, Lucy, or you will feel ill for want of sleep." "No likelihood of that," Lucy answered, suppressing a yawn, however, as she spoke, and went off leaving mother and child alone. Sitting there quite alone with her little girl, the restlessness of which Heather had complained returned upon her with double force. She tried to read; she fetched her work-basket and commenced sewing; she went and stood by the window looking out into the darkness, and longed for five o'clock, when there would come some sounds of life about the house. It was a still, cold morning, pitch dark. Not a dog barkednot a leaf stirred. The silence was almost insupportable, and Heather felt it to be so, as she left the window and returned to Lally's side. Still, the child slept quietly; and now Heather's thoughts reverted to Bessie. What could be the matter with the girl? Why had she been crying the previous night? Why did she so persistently ignore Mr. Harcourt's very existence? How did it happen that the time for her marriage seemed no nearer now than it had done in the summer? That Mr. Harcourt was a devoted correspondent, Heather knew by the evidence of her own eyes. Scarcely a morning passed without the post-bag bringing a long epistle from him to his affianced wife. Bessie's acknowledgments of these epistles were despatched at much longer and more uncertain intervals; but then Bessie did not profess to be a good correspondent. "She hated letter writing and letter writers," she openly declared; so that her negligence in this particular proved nothing. Besides, her time had been much occupied with Lally, and altogether As she reached this point in her mental argument, Mrs. Dudley heard a sound as though a door were being softly opened and closed at the end of the corridor. With that nervous fear upon her, which seems so often the advance courier of some disaster, the messenger spurring on to tell us of the approach of misfortune, Heather went out into the passage and listened. Yes, there was some one moving stealthily and cautiously in the direction of the back staircase—a woman, for Mrs. Dudley could hear the skirt of her dress brushing against the wall as she stole along. It could not be any of the servants, because they had no business in that part of the house their sleeping rooms being in the roof, and access to those apartments only possible by means of the back staircase which opened out of the front kitchen. There was a door of communication, however, between the long south corridor, where the principal bed-chambers were situated, and the other portion of the house; and this door Heather now heard close softly, as the first had done. Satisfied that Bessie must be ill and about to seek Mrs. Piggott's apartment, Heather hurried after; but when she came to try to open the door, it resisted all her efforts. As a rule, the key remained on the side next the main staircase. Now, Heather found it had been removed, and the door locked from within. Not knowing what all this could mean, she went back to Lally's room, took a candle, and descending into the hall, made her way along a passage which led in the direction of the offices. Crossing the front kitchen, she opened the door which led towards the back staircase, and there on the last step stood Priscilla Dobbin. "What are you doing? where are you going?" asked her mistress. "I was coming down to look at the clock, ma'am," answered the girl. 'You have just left Miss Ormson's room-is she ill?" "No, ma'am, not as I know of. She told me last night to go to her room when I got up for a letter for Master Alick to take to town." "And where is that letter?" asked Mrs. Dudley. "On the hall table, ma'am, I believe. Miss Bessie left it there herself after she had wrote it." "What made you lock the passage door after you?" "Miss Bessie told me to, ma'am." Heather could not understand the matter at all. She did not believe that there was a sentence of truth in the girl's statement; but what her object might be in speaking falsely she was unable to imagine. "Miss Ormson is awake, then?" she said at length. "Yes, ma'am-leastways she was when I saw her." Without another word, Mrs. Dudley turned to regain the hall. She wanted to see if the letter |