Just then Bacri entered, conducting a number of women and children who sought sanctuary there.
“Some of my people have need of the British arm to protect them,” said the Jew, with a sad smile.
“And they shall have it,” said the consul, taking Bacri by the hand.—“See them attended to, Flaggan,” he added, turning to the seaman.
“Ay, ay, sir.—This way, my dears,” said Ted, waving his hand with a fatherly air to the group of weeping women and children, and conducting them to one of the large chambers of the house, where Mrs Langley and Paulina had already spread out bedding, and made further preparations for a large party.
“Do you think, Bacri,” said the consul, as the other was about to depart, “that there is much chance of Hamet succeeding?”
“I do,” answered the Jew. “Achmet is now become very unpopular. He is too kind and generous to suit the tastes of the soldiers, and you are aware that the janissaries have it all their own way in this city.”
This was indeed the case. The Turkish soldiers were extremely insolent and overbearing, alike to Moors and Jews, one of the privileges they claimed being to enter the gardens of the inhabitants whenever they pleased—not excepting those of the consuls—and eat and destroy fruit and vegetables at will.
“Achmet’s party,” added Bacri, “is not strong, while that of Hamet is not only numerous but influential. I fear much that the sands of his glass are nearly run out.”
“It is a woeful state of things,” observed the Colonel, while a slight flush mantled on his cheek—possibly at the thought of his having, as the representative of a civilised power, to bow his head and recognise such barbarians. “And you, Bacri, will you not also stay here?”
“No. There are others of my people who require my aid. I go to join them. I trust that Hamet’s promise—if he succeeds—will sufficiently guard me from violence. It may be that they will respect my position. In any case I stay not here.—Farewell.”