Part 10

As he was going to repeat the song, his eyes met those of the King, and a flush of joyful surprize covered his pallid face; he rose hastily, reminded his comrades of supper, and in the midst of their tumultuous movements, drew near to one of the houses: he then glided in at an open door, making a sign for Sebastian to follow.

The King obeyed: no sooner were they alone, than Gaspar cast himself at the feet of his sovereign, uttering in a low voice the most affecting expressions of sorrow and of respect, deploring the fate of Portugal, thus deprived of her protector, and beseeching him to order his services and his life in any way conducive to his comfort.

Sebastian could not conceal his emotion: he raised Gaspar from the ground, with many gracious acknowledgements, assuring him that the only service he could do him would be to discover whether a ransom would indeed be refused by El Hader, or to aid in their mutual escape.--Gaspar’s answer destroyed every hope.

He represented that the Almoçadem avowedly picqued himself upon never giving liberty to the enemies of Mahomet; that as the whole of the domains were inclosed by high walls, and these regularly guarded day and night, the escape of a prisoner was impossible; nay, that even such captives as worked in the fields and quarries, were watched by Moors completely armed, therefore as hopeless of escape as the household servants.

“For myself, I scarcely care,” said the young soldier, (tears starting into his eyes even while he believed himself thus indifferent;) “but to behold my King so fated, drives me to desperation.--My life, sire, is of no consequence--except to a widowed mother and sisters, whom your royal bounty will hereafter save from want--perhaps you would deign to accept of my attempting something for your sake; should I fail, it will be nothing; I shall die in the performance of a duty; should I succeed, Portugal will owe her happiness to me.”

“What is it you would attempt?” asked Sebastian, seeing Gaspar too much affected to proceed.

“To scale the walls,” exclaimed the breathless soldier, “to flee by unfrequented ways to the nearest fortress, to convey thither the blessed tidings of my sovereign’s safety, and either return with a royal ransom, or joined by every Portuguese in Africa, march hither, storm the Cassavee, and----.”

“Brave Gaspar!” exclaimed the youthful monarch, animated with similar ardour, “Thou hast the heart of a knight: should we ever reach Portugal, claim knighthood at my hand. But I cannot accept of freedom on such terms; too many gallant soldiers have already been sacrificed by my imprudent reliance on the faith of a traitor: neither the lives nor the properties of my subjects shall be lavished to purchase my liberty. If these wretches knew my real rank, half my kingdom would not satisfy their avarice. No! let us trust to Providence.--I will watch the opportune moment like a lynx. I will try every method to bribe my gaolers--if I escape at last, be assured, Gaspar, I will remember you.”

Gaspar was going to press his former petition, when the sound of Ben Tarab’s horrid voice made him stop: “We must part, sire,” he exclaimed, “haste--mix with the crowd--we meet again to-morrow night.” While speaking, he hurried the King out of the house, and they were immediately absorbed by the multitude without.

Ben Tarab kept at a distance from Sebastian, who could not help smiling at his mixture of ferocity and meanness: it was soon bed time; and the slaves, separating, the King retired to a scattering of bean-straw in the corner of a brick-room, where he threw himself beside four other captives, and sunk, overpowered with sleep.

The break of day awoke him to the same toil, and the hour of supper again allowed him a short conversation with Gaspar. Every day brought with it but fresh causes for regret, while it diminished the delusions of hope. But where is the situation, however desolate, out of which it is impossible for us to extract some consolation? Sebastian found in his present state, a balm for part of that remorse which had so long tormented him.

While experiencing the benevolence of Abensallah, he had naturally thought with so much esteem of the Moorish character, that his expedition appeared almost preposterous, and the destruction attendant on it, doubly criminal; but now that he witnessed the real miseries of slavery, and the detestableness of a tyrannical government, which habituates every individual to the exercise of tyranny in his turn, zeal once more assumed the rank of a virtue, and lulled conscience to rest.--In addition to this, his own sufferings were softened by the power he fortunately acquired of alleviating those of others.

Among the garden-labourers were two aged men, for whom he frequently procured rest and refreshment, by fulfilling not only his own task, but part of theirs: when he saw them fainting with thirst and exhaustion, he would give them all that he had purposely saved from his scanty breakfast; their blessings were his luxuries, his only luxuries, but such as warmed his heart far beyond all the enjoyments of his former state.

Never till now had he known the full transport of doing good, for never before had he done so at the expense of personal privations: sovereigns, like gods, may scatter bounties with unsparing hands, yet never have this sacred, soul-ennobling consciousness. Ought we then to envy, ah! should we not rather pity that exalted station which demands from its possessor so many cares, and rewards him with so few pleasures!

Though the governor of the gardens knew no other language than his own, Sebastian managed to converse with him by signs, and to conciliate his favour: from the instant in which he found himself capable of benefitting the distressed, his servitude ceased to appear degrading, and he toiled incessantly; his strength and his taste made him inestimable; and by voluntary labour or ingenious plans of decoration, he soon won so much on Hafiz, that he gained frequent intervals of rest for his fellow slaves.

They were now employed in constructing and adorning a subterraneous passage, in imitation of a natural grotto: there Sebastian amused himself with a thousand tasteful fancies which enchanted the dull Hafiz, and procured for him new proofs of kindness: from this success his endeavours to please acquired fresh stimulus; he redoubled his efforts, hoping to win so far upon the Moor, as at last to gain liberty through this means.

After each day’s fatigue, the supper-hour was always welcome; it brought him into the society of Gaspar. The conversation of his humble friend was now Sebastian’s chief pleasure, for with him he felt himself Sebastian still; sympathy of suffering, gratitude for affection, and esteem of native goodness, united to heighten this pleasure: he talked with Gaspar of Portugal and liberty, of days past and days to come, with all the ardour of unbroken youth.

Gaspar, in return, canvassed every possible mode of escape, continuing to bewail the fate which separated him from his King: he was, however, inspirited by some information lately obtained--it was as follows: at certain periods the Moors permitted a few travelling friars, called brothers of the redemption, to inspect their slaves, and to agree for the ransom of such as they wished redeemed; one of these charitable men, a native of Spain, was expected at Mequinez, by the next new moon; but the Almoçadem having resolved never to sell any of his slaves, had always refused to admit the friar, so that it would be necessary for Sebastian to exert all his eloquence upon Hafiz, for him either to petition the Almoçadem himself, or to let the friar know there was a Portuguese nobleman under his care, who would reward him amply for importuning El Hader in his favour.

This information roused the sanguine nature of Sebastian; he believed himself already on the threshold of liberty, and faithfully swore to Gaspar that he would not accept of freedom without him for a companion.

Intoxicated with joy, and overflowing with devotedness, the young Portuguese fell at his sovereign’s feet, pouring forth a broken torrent of gratitude: Gaspar had been early taught to reverence and obey his King, and now the amiable qualities of that King, being shewn to him under the most affecting light, added to the principle of duty, every sentiment of affection.

At this moment, while kissing the earth beneath Sebastian’s feet, he was inwardly meditating a rash enterprize, full of danger, but fraught with heroism: expecting little from Hafiz, Gaspar meant only to wait till one attempt to gain him had been made and frustrated, and then he would immediately execute his own project. His work lay in the open country, where he was employed with other slaves in felling timber; there were periods when the Moors who guarded them, were scattered about, and therefore to be escaped, without instant notice: if Gaspar could get the start of them by a single half-hour (being very swift of foot, and well acquainted with a bye-road to Mequinez, where he had often gone with loaded waggons) he might hope to reach the friar, and communicate the secret of Don Sebastian’s existence.

Gaspar was certain that in pursuing him the Moors would first look among the woods and hills leading to the interior, and that consequently, though he was almost sure of falling eventually into their hands, his object would be attained: the friar would convey the important news to the christian forts, from thence it would be speedily transmitted to Portugal and Spain, and then he doubted not, an army or a ransom, would be sent to redeem their King.

Some anxiety however, was still connected with his enterprize, even if it should succeed: as Gaspar would hazard it without his royal master’s knowledge, he could not bear any proof of his veracity, such as a ring or piece of writing; he must rely solely on the sincerity of his manner, and on that natural desire of crediting what we wish, which is implanted in the human heart.

To disobey his sovereign on such an important point, he justly conceived a duty due to his country; for Gaspar, though born in the sixteenth century, had an intuitive conviction that his country’s claims were superior even to the commands of her rulers.

Filled with this daring project, the young soldier arose from his monarch’s feet with an illuminated countenance: a few moments after they separated for their different chambers.

The only indulgence which Sebastian had asked for himself, was the privilege of passing his nights in a solitary apartment, this request had been granted, with many assurances of its being an immense favour: he now repaired to the place, which was a small room, scarcely large enough to turn in, with a barred window and a straw bed. As he entered it with an emotion of pleasure, the change of his destiny forcibly struck him: what a cell for a King of Portugal, and the lover of Donna Gonsalva to behold with gladness!

He went up to the narrow window, and as his eye fell on nothing but the dark dwellings of the slaves, faintly lighted by the rays of a watry moon, he looked from them to himself, and sighed profoundly. Not three months back, he had worn the habit, and been surrounded by the glories of a powerful prince; he had been ministered unto like a god, till the most exquisite refinements of polished life had become natural wants; he was now a slave, clad in coarse garments, denied the common necessaries of his poorest subjects, forced to labour without intermission through the day, and at night be immured in a wretched chamber, where solitude was his only comfort!

For awhile, thought took so gloomy a cast, that he felt as if all that sunny period of his life had been no more than a dream. The memory of Stukeley appeared but the memory of some brilliant phantom; his rousing eloquence, that had always acted on the soul of Sebastian like the sound of the trumpet, was now passed away, his voice was hushed, his body gone down to dust!

Nothing gives such apparent length to any portion of time, as a complete change in outward scenes and inward feelings. Sebastian was scarcely able to persuade himself that all these new emotions had been produced by the events of so short a period as three months; he reviewed the incidents which had happened since his landing in Africa, with a bitterness of regret which was at length dispersed by the idea of Gaspar: in this faithful friend, providence was evidently preparing for him a zealous assistant; at any rate, if his attachment might not aid, it would assuredly console him, and was therefore to be gratefully accepted as a sort of earnest of the divine succour.

Elevated by this thought, Sebastian’s feelings changed with their usual rapidity, joy lightened his heart, and pouring out a fervent prayer over the little cross of his order, (which he still preserved,) laid himself to rest with the confidence of pious reliance.

CHAP. VI.

As Gaspar was sure of learning from the good-natured Moor who had spoken to him of the redemption friars, when father Mansonada would be at Mequinez, he had cautioned the King not to put the absolute question to Hafiz, before the friar’s arrival was actually announced, but to employ the intermediate period in gaining his good will, urging the request at the time when it must be either instantly refused or granted: this precaution would leave no time for repentance.

Pursuant to this prudent resolution, the King continued to exert his strength and his talents in every work given him by Hafiz: under his hands the uncouth earthen passage grew into a romantic labyrinth, diversified by spars and mosses, and hung with natural garlands of flowering plants. Often while he was placing a stone or a shrub, he smiled bitterly at what to him seemed womanish employment, and was forced to remember that no occupation is disgraceful which is submitted to for a great and virtuous purpose.

Having acquired many of the Morocco words, he was now able to hold short conversations with Hafiz, who though grave, and somewhat dull, was not insensible to merit; he liberally praised Sebastian, and for his sake granted new indulgences to sickly slaves.

Sebastian marked his increasing influence with re-animated hope: having his eye fixed but on one object, (freedom, in which every blessing is included,) he disregarded all else, distributing among his fellow captives such presents of dress and delicate food, as Hafiz occasionally made him.

But the satisfaction arising from these circumstances was considerably diminished by an unforseen distress; Gaspar was taken ill: he had been unusually fatigued lately, during an insufferably burning day; and at night, had slept on some marshy ground with other Christians, who were all attacked the following morning with illness:--The disorder seized his lungs. From that hour a suffocating cough and slow fever preyed on his strength. At all times delicate, he now lost his appetite and sleep; and appeared hastening fast to that world “where the weary are at rest.”

Afflicted beyond measure, his royal friend no longer thought of exerting any influence over Hafiz for his own peculiar gratification, but tried to use it for Gaspar; he represented his situation in the most moving terms, soliciting the Moor to get him transferred from the fields into the gardens, where he promised to work in his place, allowing himself no instant of recreation through the day, and but four hours of rest at night.--His importunities at length wrung from Hafiz a promise that he would go and solicit the Almoçadem’s leave for the transfer.

Sebastian communicated this to Gaspar with all the ardour of pleasure, the latter turned pale and faltered out an exclamation of regret; painfully disappointed, Sebastian enquired the reason of this disinclination to be near him, and soon found, from the generous soldier, that it arose from concern at the sacrifices which he must make on his account.

This indeed was part of the truth; but the most powerful cause was alarm at a removal, which however agreeable to Gaspar, would put it out of his power to serve his master: from the gardens he could not attempt escape without involving him in his ruin should he be retaken, and therefore it was necessary for him to wait no longer a return of health, but seize this last opportunity of flying from the fields.--Perhaps another day would close the door of freedom for ever, as Hafiz, who had been sent for to Mequinez by the Almoçadem, might return ere night: this thought determined Gaspar.

Many and violent were his emotions when he parted from his beloved master at the door of their cheerless lodging; the poor fellow felt death at his heart, and scarcely knew how to hope for sufficient strength to carry him to Mequinez, where, however, the arrival of friar Mansonada was now happily ascertained. He fastened his eyes on the countenance of Sebastian with the most sorrowful expression; the benign smile that sat there, revived him for an instant, but fearful of betraying any unusual agitation, he retired without speaking.

The next day Hafiz did not return, and at night Sebastian was surprized by the non-appearance of Gaspar; concluding that he was cruelly kept out at distant labour, he began to grow impatient for the sight of Hafiz: still the governor returned not, and the next night and the one following that Gaspar, too was absent.

Disturbed and alarmed, Sebastian approached a French Christian with whom he had once seen Gaspar enter from work, and asked the man, in his own language, what had become of him: the answer overwhelmed him with grief.

Gaspar had attempted to escape two days before, while the wood-slaves were dispersed, and their guards carousing; he had got half way to Mequinez when he was overtaken by two of the Moors, who having heard him question another about the Friars Redemptione, guessed which way he was going. After a short struggle, a wound in the leg brought Gaspar to the ground, and rendered resistance impossible; he was now in the prison of the Cassavee, where Ben Tarab threatened him with the extremity of the bastinado that very night.

Sebastian too quickly comprehended the motive of his friend’s rash action; penetrated with gratitude and sorrow, he flew to the dark building called the prison, intreating to be admitted, and offering extravagant rewards to the Moors who guarded it:--Sebastian could not always remember that he was no longer able to reward any one!--But these vain promises were no sooner past his lips, than he disclaimed them, with a stifled groan, and turned once more to intreaties.

The brutal Ben Tarab advanced cautiously, “You see I am armed;” was his salutation, (pointing to a pair of huge pistols in his belt, and drawing out a Moorish knife,) “in that case you dare not touch me: what is all this tumult about?--is it because the dog is a Portuguese like yourself?--or because you are colleagues? By the holy prophet! I believe you deserve as sound a bastinadoing as he does. If he dies under the thong, this night he shall receive a thousand lashes. Get you to your sleeping hole, and pretend not to thwart a Mussulman in his duty.”

Without replying, Sebastian shot an eagle glance round, as if in search of something, the next instant he darted forwards, and snatching up a hatchet which lay accidentally among some rubbish, flashed it in the eyes of Ben Tarab.

“I too am armed!” he exclaimed fiercely, “approach but one step nearer and this hatchet shall lay you dead at my feet.--I can die but once--yet if I _do_ fall, I will sell my life dearly.--Mark me! the man who takes Gaspar to punishment from this prison must cut his way to him through my heart.”

As he concluded, the stern frown of the young monarch withered Ben Tarab’s courage, he drew back trembling, and tried to pull out one of his pistols; Sebastian saw the action, and sprung on him like a tiger; his powerful grasp pinioned the arms of the Moor, who believing himself in the very gripe of death, cried out for mercy: before any one could come to his rescue, Sebastian flung him disdainfully away, saying--

“Take your worthless life--I want nothing beyond pity for a poor dying man. Suffer me unmolested to keep watch before this prison till Hafiz returns; then let the punishment of Gaspar be referred to the Almoçadem: you will appear against him, I shall plead for him, I hope from the lips of the humane Hafiz.”

Livid and trembling, Ben Tarab now sheltered himself behind a group of Moors who had run in to his assistance: conscious that Sebastian was indeed only to be conquered by death, and aware of the high value set on him by El Hader, he feared to order the violence his base soul longed to inflict.

“Stay then,” he cried at last, “Stay! and may plagues blister you for your pains!--There you may watch and fast, for neither bed nor meal shall you have till Hafiz comes back and rids me of you altogether. Soldiers, take care he is not too subtle for you; look to him well.”--So saying, Ben Tarab left the court, shutting its huge stone gates after him, with a rage that threatened to crash them.

Sebastian grasped his hatchet and sat quietly down upon the steps of the prison, while two Moorish guards walked backwards and forwards, discoursing about this mad Christian, who would certainly be condemned to the rack by their illustrious master.

In this situation, full of agitating thoughts, the King of Portugal past the night: fortunately for him, Hafiz returned the next day, and having missed Sebastian in the gardens, came to inquire for him of Ben Tarab; that brutal fellow related the events of the last few days with all the exaggerations of inveterate animosity, sending Hafiz to threaten his favorite slave with a chain or a log.

Sebastian’s character was one of extremes; he was alternately the fiercest and the gentlest of mankind; where he saw the trace of humanity he could quell every movement of passion, and enter into the calmest and most considerate explanations: he now let the wrath of Hafiz take its course, waiting till it was spent, before he expatiated upon the natural love we bear our countrymen; and the impossibility of refraining from some shew of violence when any object whom we sincerely love is threatened with danger. The poor dying youth being menaced with the bastinado, was, on this reasoning, a sufficient plea for his own vehemence.

Sebastian mingled these with strong appeals to that sentiment of Liberty which he presumed dwelt in the bosom of Hafiz, in common with every honest man, he besought his pity;--and finished by declaring, that if Gaspar perished, neither whips nor daggers should ever compel _him_ to any act of labour.

All these arguments had their weight, but especially the last; Hafiz feared to lose the very flower of his workmen, and therefore promised to go immediately to Kara Aziek, the daughter of El Hader, and try to obtain Gaspar’s pardon from her: this favorite and only surviving child of the Almoçadem had come that morning from Mequinez, merely to see the subterraneous labyrinth, and having been enchanted with its novelty and beauty, Hafiz hoped might be induced to pronounce the desired forgiveness. Hastening away, he returned in a short time with the Moorish Lady’s order for the release and removal of Gaspar.

Penetrated with gratitude proportionate to his late apprehension, Sebastian vehemently thanked the good Moor, and went with him into the prison.