"What sayeth the son of s.h.i.tan?" demanded the pacha, impatiently.

"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.

But Mustapha had heard enough to know that the sailor would not be content with the pure element. He 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 G.o.d! 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 quant.i.ty he took of it before he removed the bottle to recover his breath, fully convinced the pacha that Mustapha's a.s.sertions 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 a'r'nt Frank. It happens to be Bill; howsomever, it warn't a bad guess for a Turk; and now I'm here, I'd just like to ax you a question. We had a bit of a hargument the other day, when I was in a frigate up the Dardanelles, as to what your religion might be. Jack Soames said that you warn't Christians, but that if you were, you could only be Catholics; but I don't know how he could know any thing about it, seeing that he had not been more than seven weeks on board of a man of war. What may you be--if I may make so bold as to ax the question?"

"What does he say?" inquired the pacha, impatiently.

"He says," interrupted Mustapha, "that he was not so fortunate as to be born in the country of the true believers, but in an island full of fog and mist, where the sun never shines, and the cold is so intense, that the water from heaven is hard and cold as a flint."

"That accounts for their not drinking it. Mashallah, G.o.d is great! Let him proceed."

"The pacha desires me to say, that there is but one G.o.d, and Mahomet is his Prophet; and begs that you will go on with your story."

"Never heard of the chap--never mind--here's saw wood."

TALE OF THE ENGLISH SAILOR.

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 n.i.g.g.e.rs--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 of 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 hove-to, 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 n.i.g.g.e.rs 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 a 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 the deck, put the hatches over some o' the French, seized those on deck, and--in half an hour they all walked a plank.

"I do not understand what you mean," said Mustapha.

"That's 'cause you're a lubber of a landsman. The long and short of walking a plank is just this. We pa.s.sed 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 did'nt refuse them, though they prefer a n.i.g.g.e.r to any thing 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 did'nt much like the sarvice, so I cut the schooner, and sailed home in summer, and got back safe to England. There I fell in with Betsey, 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, the 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 sh.o.r.e, that I might get rid of it. Then I picked up Sue, and spliced again; but, Lord bless your heart, she turned out a regular built tartar--nothing but fight fight, scratch scratch, all day long, till I wished her at old Scratch.

I was tired of her, and Sue had taken a fancy to another chap; so says she one day, "As we both be of the same mind, why don't you sell me, and then we may part in a respectable manner." I agrees; and I puts a halter round her neck, and leads her to the market-place, the chap following to buy her. "Who bids for this woman," says I.

"I do," says he.

"What will you give?"

"Half-a-crown," says he.

"Will you throw a gla.s.s 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; fine round counter--clean run--swelling bows--good figure-head, and hair enough for a mermaid."

"What does he say?" inquired the pacha.

"The Frank declareth that her eyes were bright as those of the gazelle-- that her eyebrows were as one--her waist as that of the cypress--her face as the full moon; and that she was fat as the houris that await the true believers."