“Now, away, all of you,” cried Ben-Ahmed, when he was released, “and may the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob go with you.”
While he was yet speaking the clatter of horses’ hoofs in the distance was heard. Instantly the party made for the boat. There was no time for last adieux. Ben-Ahmed helped to shove off the boat and bundle them in.
“You will hear pistol-shots,” he cried, “but fear not for me. My horse can outrun the best in Algiers. I will only fire to decoy them away. Farewell!”
He ran up into the shrubbery that bordered the road, and next minute the sound of the horse’s feet was heard in the distance, as the boat skimmed swiftly out to sea under the powerful impulse of its stalwart crew.
A few minutes later and, as the Moor had prophesied, pistol-shots were heard on shore. From the sound they appeared to come from a short distance in the interior of the land, but musket-shots were also heard among them, and from the flashes on the beach it became evident that the Moor had not succeeded in turning all their pursuers off the scent—a fact which was further illustrated by the skipping of a musket ball close past the boat.
Just then it struck George Foster that Peter the Great and his wife were seated beside him.
“Hallo, Peter!” he exclaimed; “how are you and Angelica to get on shore?”
“We’s not goin’ on shore at all, Geo’ge.”
“What do you mean, Peter?”
“I means what I says. De fact is, Geo’ge, dat I’s come to de conclusion dat I couldn’t lib widout you. Angelica’s ob de same opinion, so we’s made up our minds, wid massa’s purmission, to go wid you to ole England. We’s all goin’ togidder, Geo’ge. Ain’t dat jolly?”