CHAP. V.
When Sebastian was again capable of observation, he found himself in the heart of almost impenetrable mountains, surrounded by savage tribes, living in tents made of the bark and leaves of the palm-tree. These wretches seemed to have just as much civilization amongst them as rendered their vices more hideous, by taking from them the plea of ignorance: their business was plunder and murder; their pleasures, drunkenness and debauchery.
The habits of such a people were a constant source of horror and indignation to Sebastian; of their barbarous jargon indeed he knew nothing, but the force of these robbers’ passions imparted a detestable expressiveness to every action of their bodies and features, which made him but too well comprehend their ferocity and their profligacy.
Hitherto a surly old woman had dressed his wound, and supplied him with food, and from her he vainly attempted to obtain by signs Donna Gonsalva’s picture: she either did not or would not understand him.
Maddened by this loss, and desperate of release, ignorant of the place where he was, and hopeless therefore of escaping, he began to disregard life: neither the threats nor the violence of the Alarbes prevailed to alter his resolution of never submitting to the base occupations they assigned him; he was a monarch still, though deprived of his people and of liberty; and whether he lived or died, he was resolved to live or die undebased by submission to miscreants.
The firmness with which he endured all their torments, at first astonished, and at length exasperated, his brutal captors; they suffered him to behold the beautiful image of Gonsalva (now robbed of its setting) polluted by their brutish admiration, but steadily withheld it, in defiance of his frantic entreaties, his rash attempts to regain it, or his offer of treasures in exchange.
One day when Sarhamet the chief had exasperated him beyond controul, by deridingly kissing the picture, his fury burst forth so fearfully, that the Alarbe sprung out of his reach, and hastily dashed the contested object into one of the neighbouring torrents: nothing short of regaining his treasure could have given the captive King such joy; his wrath suddenly ceased, he dropt the arm just raised to elance a mortal blow, and approaching the torrent, beheld with satisfaction the divine colours of the portrait effaced by its foaming waters; he then turned quietly away, and returned to his former station.
Tranquillized by the certainty that his Gonsalva’s representative was thus rescued from profanation, he was able to controul his indignation at other circumstances, and to strive at obtaining his own freedom; but though he endeavoured to explain to these banditti, that if they would convey him to a Christian fortress they should be liberally paid, and loaded with gifts, they either did not comprehend, or much mistrusted his veracity: at length, wearied, out by his stedfast character, and tempted by the great price given for handsome Europeans by the Moorish grandees, Sarhamet meditated selling him.
This information, which was meant to vex, rather gratified their prisoner; to be again brought into the plains, was to be once more placed within prospect of liberty, and chance of meeting the reverend Abensallah: Sebastian’s health returned with hope; for though his last wound had been deep, it had been skilfully managed; and the purity of a good constitution, adding force to an invincible spirit, enabled him to bear without injury the piercing mountain air, and the frequent fasts to which the Alarbes had wantonly doomed him.
His improving looks quickened the eagerness of Sarhamet for selling him: solicitous to secure the moment of procuring a high price for his captive, the robber selected a dozen followers, and mounting them and Sebastian upon stout Barbs, set off with them one morning by day break, for the country house of a Moorish grandee.