"It is possible," he repeated. "You have to walk but from hence to the Outer Gate and the Quayside. Immediately you have departed, the Body of a poor Christian Slave, of your age and stature, who died this morning at the Arsenal, will be conveyed here, and garnished with your Chains. The Dey will be told that you have died in Prison. He loves not to look upon the faces of those he has murdered, and will take the word of the Aga, who is in our pay. Come! there is not an instant to be lost. Here is the key to your Fetters. Unlock them, and follow me."
With a heart that was now elated with the prospect of Deliverance, and now sunk at the thought that I was still to be separated from my Lilias, I did as the good Redemptorist bade me, and, casting my accursed Shackles from me in a heap, limped slowly forth—for the Iron had wofully galled me. Outside the Dungeon-door stood a couple of Coglolies, with their Turban-cloths let down over their faces to serve as Masks, who swiftly unlocked what Doors remained between us and the Sea Rampart. The Monk pressed my Hand, gave me his Blessing, bidding me hope for Better Times, and disappeared. Guided by the Coglolies, and, indeed, half supported by them, I was put into a Boat waiting at the Quayside, as the Monk had told me, and ten minutes' hard pulling brought us alongside a large craft, on board which, I being so weak, they were fain to hoist me with Ropes. By this time I had sunk into a kind of Lethargy, and, being conveyed below and put into a cot in the Master's Cabin, fell into a slumber, which lasted for very many hours.
The Captain of this ship was an English Renegado, named Sparkenhoe. He had served as Midshipman and Master's Mate in a King's ship; but having been, as he conceived, unjustly Broken for hot words that passed between him and the Captain,—this took place at Gibraltar,—had deserted, and hid himself on board a Merchant Brig bound for Tangier. At last, being fond of a Roving Life (and having the misfortune to kill the Captain of the Merchant Brig in a dispute concerning some Bullocks they were shipping), he had turned Mussulman; and after living some time among the Buccaneers of the Riff, had come to Algiers, and been made Captain of a Merchantman trading to the Dardanelles, and doing a bit of Piracy when opportunity served. 'Twas full five-and-twenty years since he had Run from the King of Great Britain's service; and although his Blue Eyes and enormous Red Whiskers still gave him somewhat of a Saxon appearance, he had very nearly forgotten his Mother Tongue, and only retained English enough to enable him to mingle a few Billingsgate Oaths with his barbarous Levantine Lingo.
This fellow, whom I heartily despised, for he had kept all the Vices of his former Religion, and had acquired none of the Virtues of his new one, was civil enough to me, and informed me that all he could do for me, in return for the Bribe he had received from his Employers, would be to deliver me to a Slave Merchant at Constantinople, who would place me out in Domestic Service where I should not be ill-treated. But he very strongly advised me to turn Turk or Renegado, as he himself was, saying, that in such a case he would land me perfectly free at the Porte, where I should doubtless find some profitable Employment. This I scornfully refused; whereupon he shrugged his Shoulders, and said that I was a Fool, but might possibly think Better of it in Time.
After three weeks' coasting among the Isles of the Grecian Archipelago, and so into the Sea of Marmora, we steered into the Dardanelles 'twixt the Castles of Europe and Asia; and the same night the Slave-Dealer comes off in a private Caique—as the Turks call their Canoes,—and the Renegado delivered me up to him. I was taken to his House at Galata, where I was kept very close for two or three weeks, and was then sold to a Merchant of Damascus in Asia, that had come to Constantinople with the Autumn Caravans, to dispose of his cargo of Silk and Attar of Roses—a very fine and subtle Perfume, one drop of which is sufficient to scent an entire House.
'Twas in the autumn of the year 1759 that I so came to Damascus, and for ten years did I remain in that city,—all the time without hearing one word from my dear Wife. Had I been in the Capital, where Foreign Ambassadors reside, I could not, as a Christian, be detained in Slavery; that being guarded against by Treaties between the Crown of Great Britain and the Sublime Porte. But in this remote part of the Empire, these and many other worse enormities were possible; and I remained as one Dead and Buried. To a few English and French Travellers passing through Damascus did I tell my piteous Tale, and entreat their help; but the account that I gave of myself was so rambling and confused, and contained, I could but confess it, many Incredible Particulars, that I could plainly see no one believed my Tale, or accounted me as aught but a half-mad Fellow that had run away for some misdeed from a Ship in port on the Coast of Syria, and was now trying to cadge Sympathy for a Pretended Grievance. At last I gave up complaining. Slowly, but surely, my memory of my former life began to Decay, and even the knowledge of mine own Language faded away, and became weaker and weaker every day. I dressed, I ate, I drank, I slept in the Eastern Fashion, and in all but religion I was a Turk.
Meanwhile I had gained in the favour of my Master. He was about mine own age when he purchased me, and we grew old Together. At first I was employed as a mere Menial, in carrying of Bales and Packages, and tending of Camels; but by degrees I was promoted to be his Warehouseman, Clerk, Cashkeeper, and at last his Partner. In that capacity he sent me to manage a large silk-plantation of his in the Lebanon; and after two years of that work I left him with a fortune of no less than five hundred Purses of Gold (about 20,000l. of our Money), to set up on my own account in the City of Broussa. He made no attempt (nor had he at any time done so) to combat my Religious Scruples, but counselled me to behave in all things outwardly as a Turk; and if anything was said of my being in countenance a Frank (though I was swarthy enough from my Long Journeyings), to account for it by saying that I was an Affghan born, out of India. He died very soon after I settled at Broussa, and the secret of my being a Christian died with him. It is true that, for mere Policy's sake, I did go through the Mummeries of outward Mahometans, and had my Rosary and my Prayer-carpet like other Merchants of Broussa; but I scornfully deny that I was initiated, or submitted to, any Heathenish Rites; and I am ready to maintain now, Cut, Thrust, or Backsword, that I was then as stanch and leal a Protestant as I am now.
Under the name of Gholab Hassan, of Affghanistan, and a True Believer, I prospered exceedingly, almost entirely forgetting my own country. 'Tis true I always preserved an affectionate remembrance of my dear Wife Lilias; but she seemed to me in the guise of some Departed Angel, whom I had been privileged to behold but for a Short and Transient Period. Among these Pagans, as is well known, Polygamy is permitted; but that is neither here nor there; and I was now an Old, Old Man.
'Tis ten years since, namely, a.d. 1770, that a great Insurrection against the Authority of the Porte, or rather of the Bashaw of the Province, who had been laying on the Taxes with somewhat too heavy a hand, broke out in Broussa. The infuriate Populace burnt the House of the Bashaw about his ears, plundered the Bazaar, and were proceeding to further extremities, when, a puff of my old Martial Spirit reviving within me, I collected a trusted band of Porters and Camel-drivers, rallied the Turkish Troops, who were flying in all directions, reformed them, scattered the Insurgent Mobile, and did (I promise you) speedy execution on some Scores of them. The Insurrection was very speedily subdued, and all Broussa was filled with the praises of my Valour and Discretion. The Bashaw was a poor Good-natured kind of Creature, Brave enough, but so Fat that when he mounted on Horseback they were obliged to put one of the Pillows of his Divan on the pummel of his saddle to keep his Stomach steady. An end, however, was put to the discomfort he suffered through Corpulence, by the arrival, three weeks after the suppression of the Insurrection, of a Tartar Courier, who brought with him a Bowstring and a Firman from the Grand Seignor. By means of the Bowstring, the Fat Bashaw was then and there strangled,—for they do things in a very off-hand manner in Turkey,—and when the Firman was opened by his Vizier it was found to contain, not his own nomination to the Bashawlik, which he fondly expected, but the appointment of the Merchant Gholab Hassan, that is to say, John Dangerous, that is to say, your Humble Servant, to the vacant Post, and commanding my immediate attendance at the Porte to receive investiture with the Three Horse-tails of Office.