A few days after this, I sailed forth in the good ship, well freighted with precious stores; her linen sails filled out with the soft wind, and her keel ploughing the berdinegros[2] waters of the crystal main.
Thus to Tunis we came, where my affairs succeeded prosperously. My merchandise was all disposed of to great advantage in a short time, and before leaving the port I wandered forth to see the town. Passing by one of the great public squares, I saw some Turkish sentinels walking up and down, guarding a dead body; I addressed them, asking why they did not inter it.
“Because,” said they, “he was of the Christian people, and in his days of life traded with his ship, wherefore a Turk of great consideration in our city, and a friend of his, entrusted to him a thousand ducats in silver, with which he bought great provision of cloth, and sent his servants to trade with it, while he remained in Tunis. The ship left the port with a prosperous wind, but before four days were out, a balandra[3] came in, bearing the news that the ship had been overtaken by a tempest, and all the merchandise had gone down into the boiling deep. With that the Christian merchant was so overcome, that he fainted and fell down dead, and we hold his body in bail for the thousand ducats he owed the Turk.”
To which I replied, “I will pay the sum you have named.” And then, taking the body on my shoulders, I carried it to the church of Serafic Francis, which there is in Tunis, to give it burial, and paid the stipend of the priest who should say a hundred masses for the soul’s rest. Then I returned to pay the debt to the Turk.
Scarcely had I passed the threshold of his house, when I heard the sound of great wailing and lamentation, as of one taking leave of life.
So I turned and asked two turbaned renegades who stood in waiting, what meant the wail. And they said, “There came to Tunis a female slave, a captive Christian, causing envy to all the womanhood of this place, so beauteously had Heaven arrayed her. Her our master bought, with the intention of making her recant and marrying her. But she said to him, ‘Señor, it is vain you weary yourself, to persuade me to do this thing, for never will I deny my God and His laws, though to lay down my life I am ready.’
“When the master heard this he was wroth, and taking her by the shoulders let her down into a mazmorra[4] under his house, binding her with a heavy chain, and feeding her day by day with but six ounces of coarse bread and half a pint of water.”
Hearing that, I said I would buy the maid, and redeem her; but they answered it was vain. The Turk would not part with her to any one, and in mockery he had set her price at a hundred millions. So I saw I must have recourse to stratagem, and asked accordingly whether the maid had declared herself a Christian, and they answered, “No, she had only spoken of her God and of His law,” then, while I bethought me how to arrange my plan, they exclaimed suddenly, “Here comes the master;” and the moment that he entered the house, eagerly prostrating themselves at his feet, they said:—
“Great lord of this mighty alcázar[5], behold a man who comes to pay the debt of the dead Christian, and who is also desirous to buy the maiden, the slave.”
Nor was I sorry to find myself thus launched into the middle of the business, but I stood perplexed, praying in my own mind that God would give me some well-conceived idea which should serve for the redemption of the maiden.