According to the Mahomedan law, the state of slavery is divided into two conditions—the perfect and absolute, or imperfect and privileged. Those who belong to the first class are, with all their property, at the disposal of their masters. The second, though they cannot, before emancipation, inherit or acquire property, have many privileges, and cannot be sold or transferred. A female, who has a child to her master, belongs to the privileged class; as does a slave to whom his master has promised his liberty, on the payment of a certain sum, or on his death.
The greatest encouragement is given in the Koran,[5] and by all commentaries on that volume, to the manumission of slaves. Mahomed has said, "Unto such of your slaves as desire a written instrument, allowing them to redeem themselves, on paying a certain sum, write one, if ye know good in them, and give them of the riches of God, which he hath given you."
It is in obedience to this precept that pious Mahomedans often grant small pieces of land to a slave, or teach him a profession, that he may, through industry and frugality, attain the means of paying for his freedom, at the same time that he acquires habits which render him worthy of the great gift. Mahomedans are also encouraged to manumit their slaves by the law, which gives them a title, as residuary heir, to any property which the person to whom they may have granted freedom dies possessed.
On one point the slaves in Mahomedan countries are on a footing with free females: they are only liable, for any crimes they commit, to suffer half the punishment to which a free man would be subject. This law proceeds on the ground of their not being supposed on a par, as to knowledge or social ties, with other parts of the community. The application, however, of this principle of justice to cases where the law awards death or amputation, has puzzled the wise Moullahs, or doctors, who have resorted to the usual remedy, of writing ponderous volumes upon the subject; but I do not learn that they have yet discovered a plan by which an offending woman or slave can be punished with the loss of half a life; or an operation be performed, which will leave them with a half-amputated limb.
To return to Muscat: I had visited it at all seasons; it was now winter, and the climate was pleasant; in summer, the heat is intolerable. Shut out by the hills from every breeze, except that which blows directly into the narrow entrance of the cove, there is seldom a breath of air; and the reflection of the sun, from the bare rocks and white fortifications which overhang the town and harbour, produces a temperature, which is described by a Persian poet as giving to a panting sinner a lively anticipation of his future destiny!
The young Imâm, Syed Sayed, was absent on an expedition; but I regretted this the less as I had seen his father, who was, in simplicity of manners, good sense, and courage, the equal of his deserving son.
Among the first who came on board, I was pleased to see my old friend, Mahomed Gholoum. Being a good seaman, he had, on the former mission, in the year 1800, acted as our pilot from Muscat to Ormus. He was now advanced to be a pilot of the state, being one of the principal ministers of the young Imâm, of whose character he spoke in high praise. "His father," said he, "was a brave man; he was killed in battle; and if his son goes on exposing himself everywhere, he will be killed also. He will regret much not seeing the Envoy, of whose kindness to him when a boy he retains a grateful recollection; for he preserves with great care the model of a seventy-four gun ship, with which he was presented by him."
Mahomed Gholoum was not changed by his prosperity, but retained all the frankness and manliness of an Arab sailor. We had many old stories, and at one, in which he was a prominent actor, he laughed very heartily. He had wished to take our vessel, the Bombay frigate, to the southward of Ormus; but as we neared that island, the wind headed us, as the sailors call it, at the same time that it increased to a gale, and our pilot told the captain we had nothing left but to run for the harbour we desired to make, by steering between the island and the Persian shore. We did so; the weather became worse—it blew a hurricane; the channel, which is narrow, was missed, and we touched on a mud-bank, where the ship settled for a moment, and the waves dashed over her. The captain ordered more sail, to try and force her through the mud, exclaiming at the same time, "I would rather give a lac of rupees than lose the Company's ship." "Never mind the Company's ship," said a passenger, "so you land us safe." The seaman in the chains kept heaving the lead, and calling "Quarter less three." "What is the use of your quarter less three," said an impatient landsman, "when the ship is aground?" "That's the captain's business, not mine," said the unconcerned Jack, and again he hove, and again he called "Quarter less three." At this moment my attention was drawn to my friend Mahomed Gholoum, who was appalled by an Irish officer's exclaiming, "I do not understand your vile lingo; but I will cut your throat, (and he sawed with his finger across his windpipe to make him comprehend what he meant,) I will cut your throat, you ignoramus, for drowning of gentlemen in this rascally sea."