“I will tell you what,” continued the captain—“you shall have a few men to work the Hansa across, if you like.”
“But I want to go to Algiers,” whimpered Hakkabut.
“How often am I to tell you that Algiers is no longer in existence? Only say yes or no—are you coming with us into winter-quarters?”
“God of Israel! what is to become of all my property?”
“But, mind you,” continued the captain, not heeding the interruption, “if you do not choose voluntarily to come with us, I shall have the Hansa, by my orders, removed to a place of safety. I am not going to let your cursed obstinacy incur the risk of losing your cargo altogether.”
“Merciful Heaven! I shall be ruined!” moaned Isaac, in despair.
“You are going the right way to ruin yourself, and it would serve you right to leave you to your own devices. But be off! I have no more to say.”
And, turning contemptuously on his heel, Servadac left the old man vociferating bitterly, and with uplifted hands protesting vehemently against the rapacity of the Gentiles.
By the 20th all preliminary arrangements were complete, and everything ready for a final departure from the island. The thermometer stood on an average at 8 degrees below zero, and the water in the cistern was completely frozen. It was determined, therefore, for the colony to embark on the following day, and take up their residence in Nina’s Hive.
A final consultation was held about the Hansa. Lieutenant Procope pronounced his decided conviction that it would be impossible for the tartan to resist the pressure of the ice in the harbor of the Shelif, and that there would be far more safety in the proximity of the volcano. It was agreed on all hands that the vessel must be shifted; and accordingly orders were given, four Russian sailors were sent on board, and only a few minutes elapsed after the Dobryna had weighed anchor, before the great lateen sail of the tartan was unfurled, and the “shop-ship,” as Ben Zoof delighted to call it, was also on her way to the southward.