“Long live Madame Laurent!” exclaimed all the prisoners at once; “the amiable captives will all assemble at your canteen at Algiers.” “And at night,” added M. Lanternier, “we will all sup together with due honours.” “And you, Lieutenant,” said Madame Laurent turning to me, “will you do us the honour to be of the party?” “Certainly, petite mère,” replied I; “and long live Madame Laurent.”
This is but one specimen of the conversations which continually arose on this subject.
After taking a few turns on the terrace we returned to our house, and as soon as the evening began to close in, Bourgeois brought the kitchen fire into our room in a chafing dish, and one of the soldiers went to fetch our supper and oil for our lamp at the house to which he was directed by one of the Kait’s slaves; for the inhabitants of the town were forced to supply us by turns: meanwhile some of the party smoked, and others played at cards or chess with those I had manufactured. When we had eaten our kuskussu we called on M. Lanternier for a story, and listened with the deepest interest to Tom Thumb, Little Red Riding Hood, the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood, or some other fairy tale, which he told with great fluency and grace. The disciplinaire, who had a very fine voice, sang Provençal songs with great taste and feeling. One by one we fell asleep, and thus ended our day.
One afternoon our talk was interrupted by the noise of cannon and muskets, and of tumultuous voices. We went out to discover the cause, and were shocked at seeing the heads of fourteen slaughtered Spahis which the children were kicking about before the door of our house. They were afterwards put into a sack and sent to adorn Abd-el-Kader’s tent. This hideous spectacle made me sick.
On the 24th, two of the Italian fishermen, Crescenso and Francesco, arrived from Tekedemta: Berthoumiau had died of cold and ill usage, and had been buried there. The account of their sufferings was terrible. Their first enquiry was after little Benedicto, but the boy did not remember his friends or his country; only when they mentioned his mother Maria he seemed to feel some emotion and his memory to revive. “My mother,” said the boy, “is there,” pointing towards the tent of Abd-el-Kader’s wife; and away he ran to play with the Arab children.
[6] Vide page 73.
CHAPTER XI.
Departure from Mascara—Striking scene—Milianah—Moussa the renegade—His letter—The Rhamadan—Delays—The Bey of Milianah—Setting out for Algiers—The Bey’s daughters—First sight of Algiers—Fresh delays and disappointments—The Hakem’s hospitality—Arrival at Algiers—Benedicto—The Arab prisoners at Marseilles.
The next day the Kait of Mascara announced to us that we were soon to proceed to Algiers, and that he had received orders from Abd-el-Kader to clothe us, which he accordingly did. The following morning we started amid the threats and insults of the women, children, and inhabitants of the town, and took Benedicto with us by force. The Kait had the cruelty to send Mardulin out of the way, so that we could not press the hand of one who had been our benefactor during our stay at Mascara.