“Nay, nay, Sakr-el-Bahr, this tone!” he cried.
Sakr-el-Bahr, having slammed the door of conciliation in the face of the Basha, now opened it again. He became instantly submissive.
“Forgive it,” he said. “Blame the devotion of thy servant to thee and to the Faith he serves with little reck to life. In this very expedition was I wounded nigh unto death. The livid scar of it is a dumb witness to my zeal. Where are thy scars, Marzak?”
Marzak quailed before the sudden blaze of that question, and Sakr-el-Bahr laughed softly in contempt.
“Sit,” Asad bade him. “I have been less than just.”
“Thou art the very fount and spring of justice, O my lord, as this thine admission proves,” protested the corsair. He sat down again, folding his legs under him. “I will confess to you that being come so near to England in that cruise of mine I determined to land and seize one who some years ago did injure me, and between whom and me there was a score to settle. I exceeded my intentions in that I carried off two prisoners instead of one. These prisoners,” he ran on, judging that the moment of reaction in Asad’s mind was entirely favourable to the preferment of the request he had to make, “are not in the bagnio with the others. They are still confined aboard the carack I seized.”
“And why is this?” quoth Asad, but without suspicion now.
“Because, my lord, I have a boon to ask in some reward for the service I have rendered.”
“Ask it, my son.”
“Give me leave to keep these captives for myself.”