"That's a reasonable request enough," answered the lieutenant. "Point out your property, and you shall have it."
"There it is," exclaimed Ibrahim, as he pointed to Thyra.
"That your property, eh?" said the astonished officer. "Well, a very nice property too. But how was she stolen?"
"Stolen from my harem by that son of Eblis!" cried the old pasha, pointing to Jack.
"Ah, young man, I see how it is," said the officer, gravely shaking his head; "you've been going it rather too fast, and brought on this trouble all on account of this Greek girl."
"It's a lie," cried Jack, looking fiercely at the pasha; "she never was stolen, and never did belong to that old coffee-coloured villain, and what's more, never shall, if Britons can protect her. She fled of her own accord from the palace of Moley Pasha, before he arrived, and sought protection from me and my friends in the town."
"In that case," said the officer, "we cannot give her up, for the British government does not recognise slavery, domestic or otherwise. Under our flag she is free."
A cheer of defiance from the group of English sailors greeted this speech.
"By the soul of the prophet," fiercely exclaimed the pasha, "am I to be defied by a boy, and an infidel—a son of Sheitan, to boot?"
"Boy as I am, I defy you," retorted Jack.