"Cavalry! Mount! Escape!" cried Mustapha.
From a distance, swiftly coming nearer, we heard the sound of hoof-beats. Around the corner of the inn came a blaze of color. Galloping steeds were suddenly reined in. A Moorish officer, splendidly uniformed, came towards me. Mustapha, who had stood several yards away, began to lead his beast and mine down towards the river front.
"Alhamdulilah! (Praise be to God)" he sang, "My lord the Bashaw returns to his own! The cowardly usurper Hamet has fled before Joseph Bashaw's brave warriors!"
The troopers gave Mustapha but a fleeting glance. My head was uncovered and they saw that I was an American.
There was a whispered conference. American warships might be still in the mists that hid sea and shore. I had hopes that they would pass me by unmolested. Instead the officer turned to his men.
"Bind the Nazarene! One at least of the Christian dogs shall pay the penalty of starting rebellion against our worshipful ruler!"
I was bound hand and foot, thrown across a camel's back, and led out of the city, to the enemy's camp.
In the possession of an Arab lad, who was now as a lamb among wolves, were the gold and jewels I had risked so much to secure. One gem of the collection would have purchased my ransom, but knowing that a hint as to the contents of the sacks would lead to the loss of all of the treasure, I resolved to suffer slavery before I spoke of them. I prayed that Mustapha would keep the secret, yet how could I expect that fate would not reveal the contents of the sacks to covetous eyes?