As soon as the men on board, who had up to this time remained remarkably indifferent and impassive, saw what their Egyptian colleagues were about, they came forward and endeavoured to prevent them from satisfying their curiosity. A hot argument ensued, and the attention of the European party was attracted by the wordy tumult. They at once hastened to join the sailors, and, summoning the reis, ordered him to have the trap raised. But the fellow, though previously obsequious and pliant enough, suddenly put on an arrogant air and refused to give the required orders, his crew, at the same time, taking up a menacing attitude.
"All right," said the Commander of the "Khedive," "I expected this, and have provided for the emergency."
So saying, he put his silver whistle to his lips, and at the shrill, prolonged call, the Egyptian steamer, which had been awaiting the signal, was set in motion and came near. The warning was enough, and the Captain, followed by his crew, withdrew aft.
The trap was then raised, and a glimpse was caught of a huge black, seething, writhing, swarming hole. It was but a glimpse, for those who looked in were glad to draw back, half stifled by the heat and stench which escaped from the pit.
At once hands, arms, shoulders, heads appeared through the various openings, and laboured gasps were heard from surcharged breasts, eagerly drinking in the pure air. Sighs and stifled cries from the belly of the ship added to the general discordance.
"Come along!" exclaimed M. de Morin, "let us rescue these poor creatures."
He, his companions, and the Egyptians approached the trap and set to work to haul up all the arms, shoulders, and heads within their reach, seizing hold of them, and dragging them out with such good-will that in a few minutes a score of slaves, more or less suffocated, were lying on the deck, able at last to breathe. But the newly-opened den contained other victims, who must be saved if, indeed, help had not arrived too late. A sailor handed a torch to MM. de Morin and Périères, and the two friends were courageous enough to descend into the abyss.
There, in a space about fifteen metres long, the whole length of the boat, and five wide, in a sort of gallery, where a man even sitting down had to lower his head, in a kind of double-bottomed box, were a hundred human creatures, boys, girls, and women, crammed together, huddled, heaped up pell-mell, welded, as it were, into one another.
"Now, then!" called out M. de. Morin, who was anxious to get on deck again. "Stir yourselves, and get out of this!"
But the poor wretches did not stir. They were not quite so numerous as they had been a moment before, a breath of air had reached them— they did not ask for more—and they called to mind the threat that was held over them when they were shut up in that den—their persecutors had sworn that they would never open the living tomb if their victims uttered a single cry, or drew attention to the boat.