Chapter 12

They did it at length, however, by dint of shoving themselves unceremoniously through the lookers-on who congregated to see the caravans pass, taking no notice of the many invocations to Allah to curse them, as "dogs of Christians," who profaned the sacred presence of the followers of Islam by breathing the same air as themselves; finally reaching the courtyard of Mohammed's khan, after much jostling and struggling and good-natured expostulation and repartee, enlivened with many a hearty laugh as some donkey driver came to grief with his load, or when a venerable Arab sheikh on a tall dromedary sputtered with rage at finding the way impassable and his dignity hurt.

The Turk who kept the khan, or coffee-house, was a middle-aged man, who had seen a good deal of all sorts of life in knocking about the world, and was so cosmopolitan in his character that he was almost denationalised. He had a round, good-humoured face, that told as plainly as face could tell that he was no ascetic, or rigid Mussulman bound to the edicts of the Koran, but one who liked good living as well as most folk.

Tom's description of him hit him off exactly; he was decidedly "a jolly old Turk"--nothing more nor less.

On seeing the boys come in, he at once made places for them beside him on the divan, where he sat on a pile of cushions smoking a long chibouque, with a coffee-cup beside him on a little tray, that also contained sweetmeats, from which he took an occasional sip in the intervals, when he removed the stem of his pipe from his lips and emitted a vast volume of tobacco-smoke in one long puff.

"Aha, my young capitan!" said he to Tom Aldridge, when they had seated themselves, cross-legged, as he was, and accepted the chibouques brought to them immediately by an Arab boy, "you ver long time coming to see me. I tinks I nevare see yous no more!"

He spoke broken English, but with his genial manner and broad smile of welcome made himself readily understood.

"I couldn't come before," said Tom. "But I didn't forget you all the same, for I've brought what I promised, the bottle of--"

"Hush-h!" interrupted old Mohammed, with a warning gesture, placing his hand before Tom's mouth. "De med-i-seen for my leg? Ah, yase, I recollects. I am ver mooch oblige. Tanks. You'll have some cafe?"

"No, thank you," replied Tom. "I and my friend here are sick of coffee; let us have some sherbet instead, although we don't want anything. We only came to have a chat with you and a smoke, that's all."

"That is all raite, my frens. I don't like mooch coffees myselfs. De med-i-seen is mooch bettaires," said Mohammed, patting his stomach and grinning again, as he winked knowingly at Tom, in a manner that would have shocked a true believer, while he shouted out an order to the Arab boy. "But, de sheerbeet is goot for de leetle boys, O yase."

"Cunning old rogue," said Charley, aside to Tom. "He wants all the brandy for himself, although he wouldn't like his fellow-religionists to know that he drank it. I suppose if we wished for some, we would have to ask for a drop of the med-i-seen."

"Oh, he's not a bad sort," replied Tom. "He has offered me wine many a time, and he's a generous old chap, I should think. Well, Mohammed," he continued, aloud, "and how's business?"

"Ver bad, ver bad inteet," said that worthy. "I nevare did no worse in my loife. I shall have to shoot up de shop soon."

"That's a good one!" exclaimed Tom. "You can tell that to the marines. I bet you've got a snug little pile of piastres stowed away somewhere."

"P'raps I haive," said the old Turk, nodding his head as he smiled complacently; "and if you young shentlemens should be vat you call `ard oop,' I could lend you some moneys. But don't talk so loud," he added cautiously, casting a glance at a group of Greek sailors who were gabbling away near them, and scanning Tom and Charley curiously, "I don't like de look of dose fellows dere, and dey might hear us talk if dey leesten, and vill remembers."

"What of that?" asked Charley; "I don't suppose they would understand us."

"Aha, so you tink," said Mohammed warily. "But dose Grecs are ver knowing and oop to every ting. Dey are bad, ver bad, every one."

As he spoke two of the Greeks separated themselves from the group, and came over to where they were sitting, as if sent for the purpose.

"I understand," said one, who acted as spokesman, and addressed them in the most perfect English, "that your captain is in want of hands?"

The question was pertinent enough, as more than half the crew were laid up in the Beyrout hospital, or lazaretto, with a sort of malarial fever, and the _Muscadine_ was only waiting for their recovery, or until enough hands could be shipped, to enable her to pursue her voyage to her next port, Smyrna, where she was to complete her cargo, and then sail for England.

The boys of course knew this well enough, but they did not see it was any business of the Greeks, and after Mohammed's hint as to their character they resented the inquiry as a piece of impudence.

"How do you know which is our ship?" said Charley, in Irish fashion asking another question, in lieu of answering the one addressed to him; "and if you do, whether she wants hands or not?"

He spoke rather uncivilly, but the man replied to him with studied politeness.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said he, "but the _Muscadine_ is the only English ship in the harbour, and any one who has travelled like myself could easily tell the nationality of yourself and your friend. I am aware, also, that several of your crew are laid up in hospital."

"And supposing such is the case," said Tom Aldridge, taking up the cudgels, "what then?"

"Only, sir," replied the man, even more obsequiously than before, "I and several others here, who are in want of a ship, would be glad to sign articles with you."

"The others you mention are Greeks like yourself, I suppose?" inquired Tom, still brusquely, as if he did not care whether he offended his interlocutor or not.

"Yes, sir," said the man, "but my countrymen are generally reckoned to make good sailors, and ship in all sorts of vessels to all parts of the world."

"That may be," answered Tom, who hardly knew what to say, "but it is no concern of mine. You had better speak to Captain Harding about the matter; we can't engage you."

"No?" said the man with a half sneer, half smile on his face, and he seemed about to say something nasty; but he altered his mind before he uttered the words, and completed his sentence with another civil inquiry, at which neither Tom nor Charley could take offence. "And, where can I and my friends see the captain, sir?"

"On board, any time before ten in the morning or after sunset in the evening," said Tom curtly.

He didn't like the man, but he was at a loss how he could put him off in any other way.

"Thank you, sir, I'm deeply obliged for your condescension," said the Greek, who then regained his comrades, and the group presently walked out of the khan.

"Bismillah!" ejaculated Mohammed as soon as the Greeks had disappeared. "Can I believe my eyes? That scoundrel has got the impudence of Sheitan, and must be in league with the spirits of Eblis."

"Who is he? do you know him?" eagerly asked Tom and Charley almost in one breath of the Turk, who exhibited all the appearance of stupefied astonishment.

"Mashallah! do I know him?" gasped out Mohammed, his emotion nearly choking him. "Allah is great and Mohammed is his prophet--do I know him?" he repeated, taking a long draw at his chibouque as if to calm his nerves, while he lay back for a moment motionless amid his cushions.

"Well, who on earth is he, Mohammed?" demanded Tom abruptly--"that is, unless the a--medicine--has got into your head."

While the Greek had been talking to Charley in the first instance, it may be mentioned that Tom had dexterously transferred the bottle of brandy to the keeping of the Turk, who had secreted it behind his back, after turning half aside and pouring out a pretty good dose into his coffee-cup, all with the most rapid legerdemain as if he were a practical conjuror.

"Effendi," said Mohammed with dignity, "you insult me by such a remark. The sight of that man--that Grec, that villainous piratt, quite overwhelmed me."

"Pirate!" said Charley, for Tom was too much abashed by the Turk's rebuke to speak.

"Yes, piratt," repeated Mohammed firmly. "That would-be simple Grec sailor, as he represented himself to you, was no one else than Demetri Pedrovanto, better known in the Aegean Sea, as `The Corsair of Chios.' There's a price of ten thousand piastres on his head. Mashallah! How he dares show himself in Beyrout, amongst the enemy he has plundered, I know not. However, kismet! 'tis his fate, I suppose."

"Are you sure?" asked Charley, who was inclined to think that Mohammed was cramming them.

"Effendi, throw dirt on my beard if I lie. It is Demetri Pedrovanto, sure enough."

"But I never heard of pirates being about in these waters, with so many French and English cruisers going backwards and forwards in the neighbourhood," observed Tom.

"Aha, you Inglese and Frenchmans don't know everyting!" said the Turk laconically, after emitting another volume of smoke, which he had been apparently accumulating all the time he had been speaking previously. "There are alway piratts in dese seas, and always will be, as long as Grecs are Grecs!"

"Ah, you say that because you are a Turk," said Charley chaffingly.

"No, no, no," replied Mohammed, shaking his head vehemently. "I'm not one great bigot because I have been born under the crescent. I am cosmopolitaine. You ask your consul, or ze Americans, dey will tell you the same. All dose Grecs are piratts, and dem as isn't piratts are brigands, tiefs, every one."

"Well, you've got a very good opinion of them at any rate," said Tom. "I wonder what the beggar spoke to us for, eh? If he is the man you say, I don't suppose he would have the cheek to go on board the _Muscadine_."

"No, I should think not," agreed Charley; "and if he does, the skipper will soon overhaul his papers, and then find him out."

"Aha, ah!" grunted out Mohammed. "De Grec is one ver clevaire rogue, and would sheet Sheitan himself."

"Who is he?" asked Charley innocently. "I heard you mention him before."

"De Debble!" answered the Turk, so gravely that both the young fellows burst out into such paroxysms of laughter that Mohammed thought they were ridiculing him, and they had much difficulty in assuring him to the contrary. Indeed, it was not until late in the evening, after they had dinner of kebabs and coffee and their host had imbibed several cups of his "med-i-seen," that he grew friendly again; and then, he was so cordial that he wept over them at their departure, and assured them that he loved them as his own children, as his brothers, as his father, nay, even as his great-grandfather, who had borne the standard of the prophet in the annual pilgrimage to Mecca!

When Tom and Charley got on board the _Muscadine_, they saw only the second officer, Mr Tompkins, who after telling them that they were very late, and that the captain had turned in long since, said they might go below; which of course, as the ship was in harbour and only an anchor watch kept, when their services were not required, they were extremely grateful for, and turned in accordingly, without giving a thought to their rencontre at the khan.

The next morning, however, when they came on deck they saw three or four Greek sailors lounging about the foc's'le, and Mohammed's warning recurred to there with startling significance.

"Who are those men?" asked Charley of Mr Tompkins, who was in command of the vessel for the time being, Captain Harding, the skipper, having gone ashore, and the chief mate being invalided with those of the crew who were in the lazaretto.

"Some new hands the captain shipped last night," answered he; "and if you've any more business ashore, Master Onslow, you'd better look sharp about it, as we're going to sail as soon as we've obtained pratique, which will be about four bells, I reckon."

"But, does Cap'en Harding know about them?" asked Tom, sinking his objection to having any conversation with the second officer in the urgency of the occasion.

"You mind your own business, you young dog," said Tompkins, glad to have the opportunity of snubbing Tom. "I suppose you would like to command this ship, but you sha'n't while I'm on board."

"You cad!" muttered Tom under his breath, as he walked away forward to look at the men more closely. "I wish I had you on land for a quiet half hour, and I'd soon take the starch out of you!"

"None of your jaw," shouted the second mate as a parting shot. "I hear you, and if you speak another word I'll have you put in irons for mutiny," swearing also a fearful oath. So Tom had to put up with the other's language and nurse his wrath until the skipper came on board.

When Charley joined him presently, they took note of the new additions to the crew, who were altogether eight in number; but to their surprise they did not see the Greek among them whom Mohammed had indicated as being the far-famed corsair; and on their comparing their views they both agreed that the worthy Turk must have been "slinging the hatchet" at their expense, or else mistaken about the supposed pirate.

On Captain Harding coming off, however, they thought it their duty to tell him what they heard; but the skipper, who was a bold bluff English sailor, laughed the Turk's warning to scorn, and joked the young fellows for taking any notice of it.

"What! Mohammed told you, the keeper of the khan by the Capuchin monastery. My dear boys, he was only humbugging you. I saw the old rascal this very morning hauled up before the cadi, for being drunk and kicking up a row. He must be able to spin a fine yarn when he has a mind to. There are no pirates nowadays in the Mediterranean; and if we do come across any, I believe the _Muscadine_ will be able to give a good account of them. Pirates! bless my soul, what a tremendous liar that old Turk must be! Those Greeks I've shipped are honest sailors enough; for I've examined their papers, and had them before our consul. Besides, I've told them what sort of discipline I keep on board my ship; and they are not likely to try and come the old soldier over me--not if John Harding knows it!"

"But, captain," put in Tom.

The skipper wouldn't hear any more, however. "Now get to your stations, lads," said he, to show that the private interview was at an end. "Mr Aldridge, I must make you acting second officer in Mr Tompkins' place, as I've promoted him to poor Wilson's berth until he can join me at Smyrna, as I'm bound to start at once now that I have filled-up the vacancies amongst my crew. Charley Onslow, remain aft with me. All hands up anchor, and make sail!"

In a short time the men working together with a will, and the new hands specially distinguishing themselves for their activity in so marked a manner as to call forth the approval of the generally grumbling Mr Tompkins--although, perhaps, he praised them because Tom and Charley had suspected them--the _Muscadine_ had her anchor at the catheads; and, her topsails having been dropped long before, was sailing gaily out of Beyrout harbour, under the influence of the land-breeze that sprang up towards the afternoon, blowing briskly off shore.

When she had got a good offing, and the mountains of Lebanon began to sink below the horizon in the distance as she bowled along merrily on her north-western course, a long way to the southward of Cyprus, bearing up direct for the Archipelago, a keen observer on board might have noticed something that looked strange, at all events on the face of it.

No sooner had the shades of evening begun to fall than a long low suspicious-looking vessel crept out from the lee of the land, and followed right in the track of the _Muscadine_, as if in chase of the English ship.

It was a swift-sailing lateen-rigged felucca, one of those crafts that are common enough in Eastern waters, especially in the Levant.

She spread a tremendous amount of canvas; and leaping through the sea with the pace of a dolphin, came up with the doomed merchantman hand over hand.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER THREE.

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

The _Muscadine_ when she left England had a crew of some twenty hands, or with the captain, and first and second mates, and our friends Tom and Charley, twenty-five men altogether--a very fair average, as the proportion of the seamen usually borne in merchant ships is at the rate of about three to every hundred tons of the vessel's burthen.

Through the illness, however, of the fust officer, Mr Wilson, an amiable man and a thorough sailor, whom everybody liked--quite the reverse of the odious Tompkins, Tom's and Charley's special bete-noir-- and a large number of the seamen, whom they were forced to leave behind in hospital at Beyrout, the complement of the ship was much reduced, and her crew now mustered, officers and men, but twenty in number, of which total twelve were Englishmen who had originally belonged to her, and eight the Greeks whom the captain had so suddenly shipped at the last moment.

"It's a good job that Cap'en Harding didn't get any more of those blessed Greeks aboard: they're almost equal to us now, man for man," said Tom to Charley, who on this first night of their being at sea after so long a detention in port was performing an act of not altogether disinterested friendship in sharing the first watch on deck of the newly-promoted "second mate," as he would persist in addressing Tom.

"Yes, sir; I think you are about right, sir," replied Charley, with a mock deference, which made Tom grin in spite of his endeavours to preserve a dignified composure. "Is there anything else, sir, you'd like me to say, sir?"

"Only, that I'll kick you in the lee scuppers if you call me `sir' again. But, Charley, joking aside, I don't like us having all those Greeks here, and we so short-handed too."

"Don't you see that that is the precise reason why they are here, most sapient of second officers? if we hadn't been short-handed the cap'en wouldn't have shipped them."

"Yes, yes, I know that," replied the other shortly. "You don't seem to follow me, Charley, really. What I meant to point out was, that there are only twelve of us belonging to the ship on whom we could rely-- indeed only eleven, for that matter, as I don't count on Tompkins; a bully like him would be sure to show the white-feather in a scrimmage-- while these Greek chaps muster eight strong, all of them pretty biggish men, too, and all armed with them beastly long knives of theirs, which I've no doubt they know how to use."

"Bless you, Tom, Cap'en Harding would be a match for half-a-dozen of them with his revolver; and you and I would be able to master the other two, without calling for aid on any of the foremast hands, or relying on your chum Tompkins. How fond you're of him, Tom!"

"Hang Tompkins, and you too, Charley! You can't be serious for a moment!"

"Oh yes I can, Tom; and I will be, now! I tell you what, old chap, your sudden promotion has disagreed with you, and you are trying to manufacture a mountain out of a molehill. Those Greeks are not such fools to attack us unless they gained over the rest of the crew on their side; and you know that's impossible; for every Englishman forward now in the foc's'le I'd stake my life on; and so would you, Tom, as they've shipped with old Harding every voyage he has sailed since he's been captain of the craft. You've got a fit of the blue-devils or something, Tom, that makes you so unlike yourself; or else that blessed old Turk's nonsense made a deeper impression on you than it has on me!"

"You're right, Charley," said Tom Aldridge, giving himself a shake as if to dispel his strange forebodings. "I don't know what has come over me to-night. Of course, if those beggars should rise, we could whop them easily enough. To tell you the truth, I shouldn't mind if they did, if Tompkins only got a knock on the head in the fight!"

"Bravo, Tom! that's more like yourself! But isn't your watch nearly over? It must be six bells by now; the moon is getting up."

"So it is, Charley I wish you would call that beast for me; it's time he was on deck."

"All right!" shouted the other with a laugh, scuttling down, and hammering at the first mate's cabin-door, so loudly that Tom could hear him plainly above, and also Mr Tompkins' deeply growled oaths in response to the summons, after it was repeated once more with all the strength of the middy's fists beating a tattoo.

"He'll be here in a minute," said Charley, as he hurried up the companion in advance of the gentleman he had called to relieve Tom's watch; although Tompkins came pretty close behind him, swearing still, and glaring at the two young fellows in the moonlight as if he could "eat them without salt," as Charley said.

Before going below, Tom gave the first mate the ship's course, as was customary, "nor'-west and by north," reporting also that all was right and nothing in sight, no vessel had passed them during the night; and then he and Charley turned into their bunks, with the expectation of having a better "caulk" than they had had all the time the _Muscadine_ had lain at anchor in Beyrout Roads, for while there, the heat and lassitude produced by their having almost nothing to do had so banished sleep that they hardly cared when the time came for their "watch below." Now, however, it was all different; as what with the bustle of preparation in storing the last of their cargo, and seeing to those endless little matters which had to be put in ship-shape manner before the anchor was weighed, and the actual departure itself, their time had been fully occupied nearly from dawn to sundown, and their feet and hands busy enough in running about on deck and aloft, directing the crew under the captain's orders, and lending assistance where wanted. So it was with the comfortable assurance of having earned their four hours' rest that they went below that first night at sea.

"I guess old Tompkins will have to rap pretty loud to make me budge at eight bells," said Tom with a portentous yawn, as he peeled off his reefing jacket and turned in "all standing," as he expressed it, with the exception of his boots. He was too tired to undress; and besides, he thought, in his lazy way, what was the use of his doing so when he would have to turn out again and relieve the first mate at four o'clock in the morning, just as he was beginning to enjoy himself.

"By George, a sailor's life is a dog's life!" he muttered out aloud.

"What, eh?" sleepily murmured Charley from the other bunk adjacent, the two occupying one cabin between them; and, presently, the pair were "wrapped in the arms of Morpheus," and snoring like troopers in concert, the captain playing a nasal obligato from his state-room in the distance, whither he had retired a short time before themselves, after being satisfied that the ship was proceeding well on her course and everything all right.

And all this time the _Muscadine_ was bowling so favourably along at the rate of some eight knots an hour, carrying with her the fair wind with which she had started from port, the felucca that had left the Syrian coast shortly after still followed in her track, although hull-down on the horizon, and her white lateen sails only just dimly discernible to a sharp eye that was looking out for her, under the rays of the rising moon, which now emerged from the waste of water that surrounded the two vessels with its fathomless expanse. But who on board the merchant ship suspected that they were pursued or looked out for the felucca, dead astern as she was, and only a tiny speck on the ocean?

STORY TWO, CHAPTER FOUR.

THE STRANGE SAIL.