The soldiers looked fagged and dishevelled. Many of them wore bandages about their heads and limbs. They did not speak, but drew up in a line, while their leader advanced with a negro, who proceeded to file the fetters from off the British consul and his countrymen. In a few minutes he led them out between the soldiers, and conducted them towards the palace.
Although the Turkish officer could not, or would not, converse with Colonel Langley, the latter had little difficulty in making a pretty good guess as to how matters stood, for on his way to the palace, short though it was, he saw devastation enough to convince him that the British had gained the day. Arrived at the palace, the party were locked up in an anteroom.
Meanwhile, in the audience-hall, which was considerably damaged by the artillery of the fleet, Omar Dey held a divan. The building in which this court had been held in former times was now a ruin, and many of the councillors who had been wont to assemble in it had gone to their last account.
Omar was very pale, and moved with difficulty, having been wounded slightly in various places. Indeed, all the statesmen who surrounded him bore marks, more or less severe, of having played a part in the late action. In the midst of an eager discussion, an attendant entered, and announced the arrival of a British officer with a flag of truce.
“Admit him,” said the Dey, who, although boiling over with rage and despair, had sense enough to make up his mind to bow to the power which he could not overcome.
Immediately Lieutenant Burgess was ushered into the court, accompanied by Rais Ali in the capacity of translator, and two of his boat’s crew, one of whom was, by special permission, Ted Flaggan.
Without wasting time in useless ceremony, the lieutenant ordered Rais to read aloud the paper which he had been commissioned by Lord Exmouth to deliver to the Dey.
Poor Rais Ali appeared to have expended all his bravery on the ramparts, for he trembled and grew paler as he took the paper in his hand.
“Cheer up, owld boy,” whispered Flaggan, as Ali turned to advance towards the Dey; “ye’ve got more pluck than I guv ’ee credit for. Never say die.”
Whether it was the result of these encouraging words, or desperation, we know not, but Rais immediately advanced and read the paper with considerable fluency. It ran as follows:—