“Yes, Moor,” he replied, “I do love her, though I have never told her so, nor have I the slightest reason to believe that she cares a fig for me. But I now tell you plainly that I will take advantage of every opportunity that comes in my way to serve her and help her to escape. I now also recall the promise—the word of honour—I gave you, not to try to escape. There was a time,” continued the middy, in a softened tone, “when I thought of recalling this promise with defiance to you to do your worst; but, Ben-Ahmed, I have lived to learn that, after a fashion, you have been kind to me; that I might have fallen into worse hands; therefore I am not ungrateful, and I now recall the promise only with regret. All the same, my resolve is fixed.”
The curious smile still lingered on the Moor’s lips as he said, almost in a jesting tone—
“But you will not try to escape to-day if I let you go into the town for colours?”
“I make no promise, Ben-Ahmed. Yet this I may safely say, that I will not try to clear off on my own account. Unless to save Hester I will not at present try to escape; so far you may be sure of my return; but if I get the chance I will either rescue her or die for her—God helping me.”
The smile vanished from the Moor’s lips as he turned, and said gravely—
“It is well, young man, that you confess to the true and only source of all help. You Christians, as you call yourselves, have ever seemed to me unwilling to mention the name of God save when cursing your fellows, and then you misuse it glibly enough. Yet there are some among you who are more consistent in their professions. Go, fulfil your commission. I will trust you.”
“Thank you, Ben-Ahmed,” returned the middy; “but remember, if I never return, you will understand that I have not broken my word of honour.”
The Moor bowed his head in acquiescence, and took a long pull at his pipe as the midshipman went away.
George Foster was half-way to the town before he recovered from his astonishment at the strange and unexpected way in which Ben-Ahmed had received his very plain speaking. He had expected that chains and the bastinado, if not worse, would certainly follow, but he had made up his mind to go through with it—if need be to die—for Hester’s sake. To find himself, therefore, free to go where he pleased, and to help Hester to escape if the opportunity to do so should come in his way, was an amazing state of things which he could scarcely bring himself to believe.
Of course, our hero had not the slightest expectation of encountering Hester that day, when he thus freed himself from his parole, and we need scarcely add that, even if he had met her, he could not have devised any sudden scheme for her deliverance. Nevertheless, the mere fact that he was at liberty to act as he pleased in her behalf had such an effect on him that he entered the town with a lighter heart than he had possessed for many a day. Humming a nautical air as he walked along, and almost if not quite, for the moment, oblivious of the fact of his condition of slavery, he became keenly interested in all that he saw as he passed through the crowded streets, now stopping to admire a picturesque group of figures with jars and pitchers, awaiting their turn to draw water from a public fountain, or pausing in front of a turner’s shop to observe with curiosity and interest the deft way in which the workman used his toes as well as his fingers in the operations of his trade.