Seizing his golden mace, the Sultan himself beat the prostrate form of the Admiral until it was senseless.
Wearying of his bloody work, Mahomet glared like a half satiated beast upon those about him.
"Where is the damned rebel who dares dispute my will? Did no one arrest him?"
"The order was not so understood," said an Aga who was near.
"You understand it now," growled the infuriated, yet half-ashamed, monarch. "Arrest him!—But no! Let these slaves go search for the runaway. It shall be their office to deal with one who dares to break with my will."
The Janizaries returned to their places near the walls.
Mahomet was ill at ease when his better judgment displaced his unwise passion. His love for Ballaban, the manliness of the captain's reply to the unreasonable order, and the danger of injuring one who stood so high in the estimate of the entire Janizary corps, were not outweighed even by the sense of the indignity which the act of disobedience had put upon the royal authority.
The slaves, not daring to venture among the Janizaries in their search for Captain Ballaban, easily persuaded themselves that he must have fled; and that, perhaps, he might be lurking somewhere on the shore, as this was the only way of escape. Their search was rewarded. Though in the disguise of scant garments, utterly exhausted so that he could make no resistance, their victim was readily recognized by his form and features, which were too peculiar to be mistaken. The captain had apparently attempted to escape by water; perhaps, had ventured upon some chance kaik or raft, and been wrecked in the caldron which the strong south wind made with the current pouring from the north.
His wet garments, such as he had not stripped off, and his exhausted look confirmed their theory.
One of their number brought the report to the Grand Vizier, Kalil, who repeated it to the Sultan.