the Rover that took the Speronare were all well bastinadoed about it,
but no Letter was forthcoming; and I am more inclined to think that it
was thrown, in sheer Ignorance, overboard, than that it was Embezzled.
However, as 'twas not to be discovered, the Dey began to look upon me
as an Impostor; but I earnestly represented to the Interpreter that, if
I had time to write to Monsieur Foscue, all would be right. This I had
his Highness's gracious permission to do, and meanwhile was to remain a
Slave; but was not sent back to the Galleys. Being a Strong Fellow, and
professing to know something about Gardening--Lord help me! I had never
touched a Spade ten times in my Life--I was sent to work in his
Highness's Gardens at the Castle of Sitteet-ako-Leet. As for my Letter,
I penned it in as good French as I could muster, begging Monsieur Foscue
to communicate at once with his Eminence, telling him how I had been
captured, and that my Letter of Credit had been taken from me, and of
the Sorry Plight I was now in. I was given to understand that from Six
to Nine Months must pass by before I could expect an Answer; for that
Safe Conducts to Christian Packets between Algiers and Marseilles were
only granted thrice a year, and the last was but just departed.
Whereupon I resigned myself to my Captivity, hoping for Better Days.

The Head Gardener of the Dey was an old Renegado German, named Baupwitz,
who tried hard to convert me to the Mussulman Faith. But in addition to
my stanch Attachment to the Protestant Religion, I could see that the
State and Condition of the few Renegados in Algiers was very mean and
miserable, and that they were despised alike by Turks, Moors, Arabs,
Bedoweens, and Jews. And, indeed, what good had Baupwitz done himself by
turning Paynim? Thus much I put to him plainly; at which the Old Man was
angered, and for some days used me very spitefully; when the Dey, coming
to the Castle, took it into his head to have me brought back to Algiers,
and enrolled among his Musicians as a Player upon the Cymbals. I declare
that although able to troll out a Stave now and then, I could not so
much as Whistle "God save the King;" but I managed to clash my two
Saucepan-Lids or Cymbals together and to make a Noise, which is all the
Turks care for, they having no proper Ear for Music. As one of his
Highness's Musicians, I was dressed very grandly, with a monstrous
Turban all covered with Gold Spangles and Silk Tassels; but I had a