Part 2

The great square, which is now almost exclusively occupied by the residences of European consuls and merchants, was then an open area in which soldiery and horses were exercised; and in place of the scores of saucy donkey-boys who now crowd around the doors of every inn, dinning into the ear of steamboat and railroad travellers their unvarying cry of “Very good donkey, sir,” and fighting for customers with energy equal to that of Liverpool porters, there were then to be seen long strings of way-worn camels wending their solemn way through the narrow streets, whilst others of their brethren were crouched before some merchant’s door, uttering, as their loads were removed, that wonderful stomachic groan which no one who has heard it can ever forget, and which is said to have inspired and taught to the sons of Ishmael the pronunciation of one of the letters of their alphabet—a sound which I never heard perfectly imitated by any European.[10]

Harsh and dissonant as may be the voice of the camel to our Frankish ears, it was infinitely less so to those of Hassan than were the mingled cries of the Turks, Italians, and Greeks assembled in the courtyard of Hadji Ismael’s house, busily employed in opening, binding, and marking bales and packages of every size and class. Pushing his way through them as best he might, he addressed an elderly man whom he saw standing at the door of an inner court, and whom he knew by his dress to be a Moslem, and after giving him the customary greeting, he asked if he could have speech of Hadji Ismael. Upon being informed that the youth had a letter which he was charged to deliver to the merchant in person, the head clerk (for such he proved to be) desired Hassan to follow him to the counting-house.

On reaching that sanctum, Hassan found himself in a dimly lighted room of moderate dimensions, the sides of which were lined with a goodly array of boxes; at the farther end of the room was seated a venerable man with a snow-white beard, who was so busily employed in dictating a letter to a scribe that he did not at first notice the entrance of his chief clerk, who remained silently standing near the door with his young companion; but when the letter was terminated the merchant looked up, and motioned to them to advance. Mohammed, so was the chief clerk named, told him that the youth was bearer of a letter addressed to him by one of his friends among the Arabs. On a signal from Hadji Ismael, Hassan, with that respect for advanced age which is one of the best and most universal characteristics of Bedouin education, came forward, and having kissed the hem of his robe, delivered the letter, and retiring from the carpet on which the old man was sitting, stood in silence with his arms folded on his breast.[11]

The Hadji having read the letter slowly and carefully through, fixed his keen grey eyes upon Hassan, and continued his scrutiny for some seconds, as if, before addressing him, he would scan every feature of his character. The survey did not seem to give him dissatisfaction, for assuredly he had never looked upon a countenance on which ingenuous modesty, intelligence, and fearlessness were more harmoniously combined.

“You are welcome,” said the old man, breaking silence; “you bring me news of the health and welfare of an old friend—may his days be prolonged.”

“And those of the wisher,” replied the youth.[12]

“Your name is Hassan, I see,” continued the Hadji. “How old are you?”

“Just sixteen years,” he replied.

“Sixteen years!” exclaimed the Hadji, running his eye over the commanding figure and muscular limbs of the Arab youth. “It is impossible! Why, Antar himself at sixteen years had not a body and limbs like that. Young man,” he continued, bending his shaggy grey brows till they met, “you are deceiving me.”

“I never deceived any one,” said the youth haughtily; but his countenance instantly resumed its habitual frank expression, and he added, “If I wished to learn to deceive, it is not likely that I should begin with the most sagacious and experienced of all the white-beards in Alexandria.”

“True,” said the old man, smiling; “I did you wrong. But, Mashallah, you have made haste in your growth. If your brain has advanced as rapidly as your stature, you might pass for twenty summers. What can you do?”

“Little,” replied Hassan. “Almost nothing.”

“Nay, tell me that little,” said the merchant good-humouredly; “with a willing heart ’twill soon be more.”

“I can ride on camel or on horse, I can run, I can swim and dive, I can shoot and——” here he paused, and the merchant added—

“And I doubt not, from what my friend the Sheik writes, your hand is no stranger to the sword or lance; but, my son, all these acquirements, though useful in the desert, will not avail you much here—nevertheless, we will see. Inshallah, your lot shall be fortunate; you have a forehead of good omen. God is great—He makes the prince and the beggar—we are all dust.”

To this long speech of the worthy merchant Hassan only replied by repeating after him, “God is great.”

Hadji Ismael then turned to his chief clerk, and told him that, as the youth was a stranger in the town and intrusted to him by an old friend, he was to be lodged in the house, and arrangement to be made for his board.

It would seem that Hassan’s forehead of good omen had already exercised its influence over the chief clerk, for he offered without hesitation to take the youth under his own special charge, and to let him share his meals; an arrangement which was very agreeable to Hassan, who had begun to fear that he would be like a fish out of water—he, a stranger in that confused mass of bricks and bales, ships and levantines.

On a signal from the merchant, Mohammed Aga retired with his young companion, and while showing him the storerooms and courts of the house, drew him to speak of his life in the desert, and listened to his untutored yet graphic description with deepening interest.

Although born in Alexandria, the old clerk was of Turkish parentage, and had followed his professional duties with such assiduity and steadiness that he had never visited the interior of Egypt. He had frequent transactions with Arabs from the neighbourhood on the part of his master, but he usually found that, however wild and uncivilised they might appear, they were sharp and clever enough in obtaining a high price for the articles which they brought on sale; but a wild young Bedouin, full of natural poetry and enthusiasm, was an animal so totally new to the worthy clerk, that his curiosity, and ere long his interest, was awakened to a degree at which he was himself surprised. Hassan, notwithstanding his extreme youth, was gifted with the intuitive sagacity of a race accustomed to read, not books, but men; his eye, bright and keen as that of a hawk, was quick at detecting anything approaching to roguery or falsehood in a countenance on which he fixed it, and that of Mohammed Aga inspired him with a sympathetic confidence which was not misplaced.

On the following morning the merchant had no sooner concluded his prayers and ablutions than he sent for Mohammed Aga, and asked his opinion of the newly arrived addition to their household.

“By Allah!” replied the clerk, “he seems a brave and honest youth, and were you Sheik of the Wâled-Ali[13] instead of Hadji Ismael the merchant, I doubt not he would have been a gain to your tent; but to what use you can put him in Alexandria I know not.”

“You say truly,” replied his master; “he is not a youth to sit on a mat in the corner of a counting-house, or to go with messages from house to house, where knowledge of the Frank languages is required. But Allah has provided a livelihood for all His creatures: destiny sent the youth hither, and his fate is written.”

“Praise be to God!” said the clerk; “my master’s words are words of wisdom and truth. A visit to the holy cities (blessed be their names!) has opened the eyes of his understanding: doubtless he will discover the road which fate has marked out for this youth to travel; for it is written by the hand of the Causer of Causes.”[14]

“True,” replied the merchant, “there is no power or might but in Him; nevertheless, a wise writer has said, ‘When the shades of doubt are on thy mind, seek counsel of thy bed: morning will bring thee light.’ I did so the past night, and see, I have found that Allah has sent me this Arab youth in a happy hour. Inshallah! his fortune and mine will be good. Do you not remember that I have an order to collect twenty of the finest Arab horses, to be sent as a present from Mohammed Ali to the Sultan? Neither you nor I have much skill in this matter, and those whom I consult in the town give me opinions according to the amount of the bribe they may have received from the dealer. We will make trial of Hassan, and, Inshallah! our faces will be white in the presence of our Prince.”[15]

“Inshallah!” said the clerk joyfully, “my master’s patience will not be put to a long trial, for there are in the town three horses just arrived from Bahirah, which have been sent on purpose that you might purchase them on this commission. Does it please you that after the morning meal we should go to the Meidàn and see them?”

“Be it so,” said the Hadji. And Mohammed Aga, retiring to his own quarters, informed Hassan of the service on which it was proposed to employ him. The eyes of the youth brightened when he learnt that his vague apprehensions of a life of listless confinement were groundless, and that he was about to be employed on a duty for the discharge of which he was fitted by his early training and habits.

Mohammed observed the change in his countenance, and thought it prudent to warn him against the wiles and tricks to which he would be exposed among the Alexandrian dealers, kindly advising him to be cautious in giving an opinion, as his future prospects might depend much upon his first success. Hassan smiled, and thanked his new friend; he then added—

“Mohammed, I have eaten the Hadji’s bread, and he is a friend of my father’s” (the latter word he pronounced with a faltering voice). “I will serve him in this matter faithfully. Until asked I shall say nothing, and when asked I shall say nothing beyond what I know to be true.”

The morning meal despatched, Hadji Ismael proceeded to the Meidàn (then an open space, and now the great square of Alexandria) accompanied by Mohammed Aga, the _sàis_ or groom, and Hassan. They found the horse-dealing party awaiting their arrival. It consisted of a _dellâl_ or dealer, and two or three of his servants, and an Arab from the neighbourhood of Damanhouri. They had two grey horses to dispose of, and at a distance of some fifty yards were two _sàises_ holding by a strong halter a bay horse, which was pawing the ground, neighing, and apparently well disposed to wage war with any biped or quadruped that might come within reach of its heels.

“Peace be upon you,” said the _dellâl_, addressing the merchant. “Inshallah! I have brought you here two grey horses that are worthy to bear the Sultan of the two worlds—pure Arab blood—this dark grey is of the Kohèil race, and the light grey a true Saklàwi.”[16]

“Are they young?” inquired the merchant.

“One is four and the other five,” was the ready reply.

The merchant then desired his _sàis_ to inspect them and examine their mouths. They were both gentle and fine-looking animals, with splendid manes and tails, and their appearance prepossessed the merchant in their favour. They stood close by the assembled group, and allowed their teeth to be examined with the most patient docility.

“The marks are as the _dellâl_ has said,” reported the _sàis_, after having finished his inspection.

The animals were then mounted by one of the _dellâl’s_ men, who walked and galloped them past the merchant, who seemed as well pleased with their paces as with their appearance.

“What is their price?” he inquired.

“Their price,” replied the _dellâl_, “should be very high, for they are pearls not to be found in every market; but to you, excellent Hadji, whom I wish to oblige, and whom I always serve with fidelity, they can be sold for sixty purses the pair” (about £300).

During all this time Hassan had never spoken a word, neither had a single mark or movement of the horses escaped him; the merchant now turned towards him, saying—

“My son, tell me your opinion of these horses; are they not very fine?”

“They are not very bad,” replied the youth drily; “but they have many faults, and are much too dear.”

“And pray what are their faults, master busybody?” said the horse-dealer in a rage.

“I am not a busybody,” answered Hassan, looking him steadfastly in the face; “I merely replied to a question put to me by our master the Hadji. As for their faults, if you do not know them better than I, you are not fit to be a _dellâl_; and if you do know them, you must be a rogue to bring them here and endeavour to pass them on the Hadji at such a price!”

Words cannot paint the fury of the _dellâl_ at being thus addressed by a stripling whom he supposed to be as ignorant of his craft as the other attendants on Hadji Ismael; the heavy courbatch[17] vibrated in his hand, and he was about to utter some violent or abusive retort, when the merchant, interposing between them, said to the _dellâl_—

“Do not give way to anger, and remember if the words of the youth are not true they can do no harm either to you or to the sale of your horses.”

The worthy merchant forgot at the moment that it was probably the truth of the words which gave them their sting; but fate seemed resolved that the horse-dealing transaction should not proceed amicably, for scarcely had the merchant concluded his pacific address to the _dellâl_ when he heard behind him a sharp cry of pain, mingled with a sound resembling a blow, accompanied by the rattling of metal.

It seems that the Damanhouri Arab entertained a shrewd suspicion that Hassan was not a greenhorn in the matter of horse-flesh, and while the merchant was making his pacific speech to the _dellâl_, he had crept to the side of the youth and whispered to him—

“Brother, say nothing about the faults of the horses; say that they are very good: here is your bakshish” (present), and so saying he slipped five Spanish dollars into Hassan’s hand.

The reply of the latter was to throw them with some force in the face of the speaker. Maddened by the pain and the insult, the Damanhouri drew a knife from his girdle and sprang upon the youth; but Hassan, whose activity was equal to his strength, caught the uplifted hand, wrenched the knife from its grasp, and placing one of his legs behind his assailant’s knee, threw him heavily to the ground. His blood was up, and the anger that shot from his eye and dilated his nostril produced such a change in his countenance that he was scarcely to be recognized; but the change lasted only a moment. Placing the knife in the hands of the astonished merchant, he briefly related to him the provocation which he had received, and the dollars still lying on the ground confirmed the tale. Attracted by the broil, several idlers and soldiers who were accidentally passing had now joined the party, and one whispered to another—

“Mashallah, the youth must have a greedy stomach. A bakshish of five dollars is dirt to him,” for it never entered into the head of any of these worthy Alexandrians to suppose that Hassan’s indignation could arise from any other cause than dissatisfaction at the amount of the bribe offered to him.

Peace was at length restored, the Damanhouri having picked up his dollars and slunk away, muttering curses and threats against Hassan. The merchant then asked him to state distinctly the faults that he found in the two grey horses.

“The dark one,” replied Hassan, “is not of pure race; he is a half-breed, and is not worth more than ten purses. The light one is better bred, but he is old, and therefore not worth much more.”

“Old!” ejaculated the _dellâl_, his anger again rising; “by your head, Hadji, your own _sàis_, who examined his teeth, said that he was only five.”

The eyes of the merchant and the dealer were now turned upon Hassan, whose only reply was a smile, and passing the forefinger of his right hand over that of his left, imitating the action of one using a file. This was a hint beyond the comprehension of the merchant, who asked him to explain his meaning.

“I mean,” he said, “that his teeth have been filed, and the marks in them artificially made;[18] but his eyes, and head, and legs tell his age to any one that knows a horse from a camel.”

The _dellâl_ was obliged to contain his rage, for not only was he restrained by the presence of the merchant and the bystanders, but the rough treatment lately inflicted on the Damanhouri did not encourage him to have recourse to personal violence. He contented himself, therefore, with saying in a sneering tone—

“If the wise and enlightened merchant, Hadji Ismael, is to be led by the advice of a boy whose chin never felt a beard, Mashallah! it were time that the fishes swam about in the heaven.”

“Allah be praised!” replied the merchant gravely, “truth is truth, even if it be spoken by a child. Friend _dellâl_, I will not dispute with you on this matter, but I will make a bargain with you, to which you will agree if you know that you have spoken truth. I will write to old Abou-Obeyed, whose tent is now among the Wâled-Ali. All men know that he is most skilled in Arab horses, and he is himself bred in the Nejd. He shall come here, and his bakshish shall be five purses. If he decides that all which you have stated of the race and age of these two horses is true, I will give you the full price that you have asked, and will pay him the bakshish. If his words agree with those spoken by this youth, I do not take the horses, and you pay the Sheik’s bakshish.”

As the _dellâl_ knew that the old Sheik Abou-Obeyed valued his reputation too highly to allow himself to be bribed to a deception so liable to detection, he replied—

“It is not worth the trouble. Allah be praised, there are horses enough in Egypt and the desert; but if our master purchases none without the consent of that strange youth, methinks it will not be this year that he will send twenty to Stamboul. Doubtless he will now tell you that yonder bay is a vicious, useless brute, not worth the halter that holds him.”

“If he is not a vicious brute,” said Hassan, looking the _dellâl_ full in the face and smiling, “mount him, and let our master see his paces.”

The _dellâl_ bit his lip at finding himself thwarted at every turn by the natural shrewdness of a mere stripling, for nothing was farther from his intention than to mount an animal whose uncontrollable violence and temper were the sole cause of its being sent for sale by its present owner. It had not been backed for months, and the two _sàises_ who held it by the head were scarcely able to resist the furious bounds which it made in its endeavour to free itself from thraldom. While the _dellâl_ went towards them to assist them in leading it up for the inspection of the merchant, the latter turned to Hassan, saying—

“My son, assuredly that is a vicious and dangerous beast. It can be no use my thinking of purchasing that for the great lords at Stamboul.”

“Let us see it nearer,” replied the youth, “perhaps we may learn whether it be play or vice. Mashallah!” he muttered to himself as it drew nearer, snorting, and bounding, and lashing out its heels, “that is a horse—what a pity that it is cooped up in this town! Would that I had it on the desert, with my greyhound beside, and the antelope before me!” His eyes glistened as he spoke, and the merchant, tapping him on the shoulder, said—

“My son, you seem to like that horse better than the others. Is it not a vicious, dangerous brute?”

“It is violent now,” replied Hassan, “probably because it has been in hands that knew not how to use it; but I do not see any signs of vice on its head. It is evidently quite young—three or four at most—and it has blood: more I cannot pretend to say.”

The noble colt had now cleared a respectable circle with his heels, as none of the bystanders chose to risk a near inspection, when the merchant, turning to the _dellâl_, said—

“That seems a violent, intractable animal; what is its lowest price?”

“When it is taught and a year older,” replied the dealer, “it will be worth fifty purses. As it is, I can sell it to you for thirty.”

“Tell him,” whispered Hassan to the merchant, “to desire one of the _sàises_ to ride it past you, that you may see its action.”

The Hadji did so, but the endeavour of the dealer and his _sàises_ to comply with the request proved utterly fruitless. No sooner did one of them approach with the object of mounting than he reared, backed, struck out with his forelegs, and played such a variety of rough antics that they could not come near him. Perhaps none of them were over-anxious to mount an animal in such a state of violent excitement, without a saddle, and with no bridle but the halter passed round the head, and with one turn round the lower jaw. The merchant stroked his beard, and looked at the colt in dismay. Hassan drew near and whispered to him—

“Tell the _dellâl_ that it is a violent, unruly brute, and offer him twenty purses.”

The Hadji had by this time acquired so much confidence in the opinion of his young _protégé_ that he did so without hesitation. Then ensued a long bargaining conference between the merchant and the _dellâl_, which ended in the latter saying that he would take twenty-five purses and no less. The merchant looked at his young adviser, who said—

“Close with him at that price.”

The merchant having done so, the _dellâl_ said to him—

“Hadji, the horse is yours: may the bargain be blessed.” As he uttered the latter words there was a sardonic grin on his countenance which, if rightly interpreted, meant, “Much good may it do you.”

The bargain being thus concluded, the _dellâl_ thought it would be a good opportunity to vent the spite which he entertained against Hassan on the subject of the two grey horses, so he said to the merchant—

“Perhaps this youth, who has been so ready to offer his advice, and who wished that I or the _sàises_ should mount the bay horse to show his paces, perhaps he will now do so himself.”

“And why not?” replied Hassan. “It is true that fools have made the horse foolish and unruly, but Allah made him to carry a rider. If the Hadji will give me leave, Inshallah! I will ride him now.”

“You have my leave,” said the merchant, “but run no risk of your life and limbs, my son.”

Hassan smiled, and going quietly forward, took the end of the halter from the nearest _sàis_, desiring the other at the same time to let go and leave him alone. He then approached the colt, looking steadfastly into its eye, and muttering some of the low guttural sounds with which the Bedouin Arabs coax and caress a refractory horse.

They seemed, however, to have no effect in this instance, for the colt continued to back, occasionally striking at Hassan with its forefeet. Never losing his temper, nor for an instant taking his eye off that of the colt, he followed its retrograde movement, gradually shortening the halter, and narrowly escaped, once or twice, the blows aimed at him by its forefeet.

At length the opportunity for which he had long been watching occurred. As the horse tried to turn its flanks and lash at him with its hind-feet, in a second, and with a single bound, he was on its back. It was in vain that the infuriated animal reared, plunged, and threw itself into every contortion to unhorse its rider. The more it bounded and snorted under him, the more proudly did his eye and his breast dilate. In the midst of all these bricks and houses he was again at home.