The Pirate City: An Algerine Tale

by R. M. Ballantyne

“What care the Deys of Algiers for the persons of consuls, which you deem so sacred?” said Omar savagely. “Hast thou not heard that in time past we have blown the consuls of refractory nations from the months of our cannon?”

“I have,” replied the Colonel calmly, “and I have also heard that Algiers has been several times bombarded, and nearly reduced to ashes. I do not presume to use threats to your highness,” added the consul firmly, though respectfully, “but I am here as spokesman of these representatives of various powers, to assure you that if you do not release the consul of Denmark immediately, we will all write to our respective governments to send vessels of war to remove us from a court where the law of nations is not respected.”

Omar attempted to bluster a little more, but had sense enough to perceive that he had already gone too far, and at length consented to grant the consuls’ demands. The condemned consul was immediately set at liberty, and his brethren returned to his residence in the same manner as they had left it, with this difference, that the French and English consuls walked in front, with the representative of Denmark between them.

This incident, as may be imagined, did not improve Omar’s temper. Immediately after it, he issued some stringent decrees in reference to the slaves, and ordered the execution of six chief men of the State, whose presence in the city had been a source of danger to the consolidation of his power. Among other things, he made some stern laws in reference to runaway slaves; and, having his attention drawn to the fact that the scrivano-grande of the late Achmet, and his assistant secretary, had not yet been discovered, he not only ordered the search for them to be continued with increased diligence, but took the unusual method of offering a reward to any one who should find or bring news of them.

This caused the matter to be widely talked about, and among others who heard of the proclamation was a little Moorish girl named Ziffa.

Now this Ziffa was the only daughter of Hadji Baba, the Court story-teller, who, like the Vicar of Bray, managed to remain in office, no matter who should come into or go out of power.

We are sorry to have to record the fact that Ziffa was a bad child—a particularly naughty little girl. She told lies, and was a little thief, besides being fond of that despicable habit styled eavesdropping. She listened behind doors and curtains and at key-holes without feeling a particle of shame! It is probable that the child’s attention would not have been arrested by the proclamation of the Dey, if it had not chanced that, during a visit which she was asked to pay to the garden of the British consul for the purpose of playing with Agnes Langley, she overheard Rais Ali and Ted Flaggan mention the name of Lucien Rimini. The seaman had found it necessary to take Rais into his confidence, and little Ziffa, in the exercise of her disgraceful vocation of eavesdropper, had overheard a little of their conversation about the Riminis. She did not, however, hear much, and, having no interest in the Riminis, forgot all about it.

On hearing the proclamation, however, she bethought her that something might be made out of the matter, if she could only manage to get her little friend Agnes to play the part of spy, and find out about things for her. Opportunity was not long wanting. She had an engagement that very day to go out to the consul’s garden to spend the day with Agnes, and a faithful old negro servant of her father was to conduct her thither.

Ziffa was extremely fond of finery. Just as she was about to set out, her eye fell on a splendid diamond ring which lay on her father’s dressing-table. Hadji Baba was very fond of this ring, as it had been a gift to him from Achmet, his former master, and he never went abroad without it, but a hasty summons to the palace had, on this occasion, caused him to forget it. As it was made for the little finger of Hadji Baba, which was remarkably thin, it exactly fitted the middle finger of Ziffa which was uncommonly fat. Seizing the ring, she thrust it into her bosom, resolving to astonish her friend Agnes. Then, running down-stairs to the old servant, she was soon on her way to the consul’s garden.

“Agnes,” she said, on finding herself alone with her friend, “I want you to do something for—”