Chapter Eighty.
Moorish Justice.
The next morning, Rais Mourad was summoned to appear before the governor of the place. He was ordered also to bring his slaves along with him. He had no reluctance in obeying these orders; and a soldier conducted him and his followers to the governor’s residence.
Bo Muzem and the grazier were there before him; and the governor soon after made his appearance in the large room where both parties were waiting audience.
He was a fine-looking man, of amiable aspect, about sixty-five years of age. From his appearance, Harry and Colin had but little fear for the result of his decision in any appeal that might be made to him.
Bo Muzem was the first to speak. He stated that, in partnership with two other merchants, he had purchased the four slaves then present. He had never given his consent to the sale made by his partners to the Moor; and there was one of the slaves who, it had been distinctly understood, was not to be sold at all. That slave he now claimed as his own property. He had been commissioned by his partners to go to Swearah, and there dispose of the whole lot. He had sold the other two to his friend Mahommed, who was by his side. He had no claim on them. Mahommed, the grazier, was now their lawful owner.
The grazier was next called upon to make his statement.
This was soon done. All he had to say was, that he had purchased three Christian slaves from his friend, Bo Muzem; and had given four horses and ten dollars in money for each of them. They had been taken away forcibly by the Moor, Rais Mourad, from whom he now claimed them.
Rais Mourad was now called upon to answer the accusation. The question was put: why he retained possession of another man’s property?
In reply, he stated that he had purchased the slaves from two Arab merchants, and had paid for them on the spot, giving one hundred and fifty silver dollars for each.
After the Moor had finished his statement, the governor remained silent for an interval of two or three minutes.
Presently, turning to Bo Muzem, he asked, “Did your partners offer you a share of the money they received for the slaves?”
“Yes,” answered the merchant, “but I would not accept it.”
“Have you, or your partners, received from the man who claims three of the slaves, twelve horses and thirty dollars?”
After some hesitation, Bo Muzem answered in the negative.
“The slaves belong to the Moor, Rais Mourad, who has paid the money for them,” said the governor, “and they shall not be taken from him here. Depart from my presence, all of you.”
All retired; and, as they did so, the grazier was heard to mutter some words about there being no justice for poor Arabs in Morocco.
Rais Mourad gave orders to his followers to prepare for the road; and just as they were ready to start, he requested Bo Muzem to accompany him outside the walls of the city.
The merchant consented, on condition that his friend Mahommed the grazier should go along with him. A peculiar smile overspread the features of Rais Mourad as he granted this request.
The Arab grazier, anxious to have another opportunity of wrangling over his claim, accompanied his deluded companion outside the city gates.
“My good friend,” said Rais Mourad, patronisingly speaking to Bo Muzem, “you have been deceived. Had you taken these Christians to Swearah, as you promised to do, you would have been paid for them all that you could reasonably have asked. I live in Swearah, and was obliged to make a long journey to the south upon urgent business. Fortunately, on my return, I met with your partners, and bought their slaves from them. The profit I shall make on them will more than repay me all the expenses of my journey. The man Mahommed, whom you call your friend, has bought two other Christians. He has sold them to the English consul. Having made two hundred piastres by that transaction, he was anxious to trade you out of these others, and make a few hundred more. He was deceiving you for the purpose of obtaining your property at a cheap rate. There is but one God, Mahomet is his Prophet, and you, Bo Muzem, are a fool!”
Bo Muzem required no further evidence in confirmation of the truth of this statement. He could not doubt that the Moor was an intelligent man, who knew what he was about when buying the slaves. The grazier had certainly purchased the two slaves spoken of; had acknowledged having carried them to Swearah, and was now anxious to obtain the other three.
All was now clear to Bo Muzem; and for a moment he stood mute and motionless under a sense of shame at his own stupidity.
This feeling was succeeded by one of wild rage against the man who had so craftily outwitted him.
Drawing his scimitar, he rushed towards the grazier; who, having been attentive to all that had been said, was not wholly unprepared for the attack.
The Arabs generally never acquire much skill in the use of the scimitar; and an affair between them with this weapon is soon decided.
The combat between the merchant and his antagonist was not an exception to other affrays of the kind. It was a desperate struggle for life or death, witnessed by the white slaves, who felt no sympathy for either of the combatants.
A Mussulman in a quarrel generally places more dependence on the justice of his cause than on his strength or skill; and when such is not the case, much of his natural prowess is lost to him.
Confident in the rectitude of his indignation, Bo Muzem, with his Mahommedan ideas of fatalism, was certain that the hour had not yet arrived for him to die; nor was he mistaken.
His impetuous onset could not be resisted by a man unfortified with the belief that he had acted justly; and Mahommed the grazier was soon struck to the ground, and left rolling in the dust in the agonies of death.
“There’s one less av ’em, anyhow!” exclaimed Sailor Bill, as he saw Jim’s master cease to exist. “I wish he had brought brother Jim and Master Terence here afore he died. I wonder what he has done wi’ ’em?”
“We should learn, if possible,” answered Harry, “and before we get any farther away from them. Suppose we speak to the Moor about them? He may be able to get possession of them for us.”
At Harry’s request, the Krooman proceeded to make the desired communication; but was prevented by Rias Mourad, who peremptorily ordered the slaves into their places, for the purpose of continuing the journey which the tragic incident had interrupted.
After cautioning Bo Muzem to beware of the followers of Mahommed, who now lay dead at his feet, the Moor, placing himself at the head of his kafila, moved off in the direction of Mogador.