want 'im to go one way just tell him to go toder way--an' you've got
'im."

At that moment the captain's voice was heard shouting down the hatchway,
demanding to know what detained the negro and his prisoners. He spoke
in that jumble of languages in use at that time among the Mediterranean
nations called Lingua Franca, for the negro did not understand Arabic.

"Comin', captain, comin'," cried the negro, in his own peculiar
English--which was, indeed, his mother tongue, for he had been born in
the United States of America. "Now, den, sar," (to Foster), "w'en you
goin' to move you stumps? Up wid you!"

Peter emphasised his orders with a real kick, which expedited his
prisoner's ascent, and, at the same time, justified the negro's claim to
be a thorough-paced "hyperkrite!"

"Where's the other one?" demanded the captain angrily.

"Escaped, captain!" answered Peter.

"How? You must have helped him," cried the captain, drawing his
ever-ready sword and pointing it at the breast of the negro, who fell
upon his knees, clasped his great hands, and rolled his eyes in an
apparent agony of terror.

"Don't, captain. I isn't wuth killin', an' w'en I's gone, who'd cook
for you like me? De man escaped by jumpin' out ob his body. He's gone
dead!"

"Fool!" muttered the pirate, returning his sword to its sheath, "bind
that prisoner, and have him and the others ready to go on shore
directly."

In a few seconds all the prisoners were ranged between the cabin
hatchway and the mast. The hands of most of the men were loosely tied,
to prevent trouble in case desperation should impel any of them to
assault their captors, but the old Dane and the women were left
unfettered.

And now George Foster beheld, for the first time, the celebrated city,
which was, at that period, the terror of the merchant vessels of all
nations that had dealings with the Mediterranean shores. A small pier
and breakwater enclosed a harbour which was crowded with boats and
shipping. From this harbour the town rose abruptly on the side of a
steep hill, and was surrounded by walls of great strength, which
bristled with cannon. The houses were small and square-looking, and in
the midst, here and there, clusters of date-palms told of the almost
tropical character of the climate, while numerous domes, minarets, and
crescents told of the Moor and the religion of Mohammed.

But religion in its true sense had little footing in that piratical
city, which su