“Mashallah! what an eye!” muttered another, who had been on hunting expeditions in Soudan; “it is like that of a lion who has been struck by a javelin.”
The freebooters dropped the half-raised packets of booty and listened in sulky silence as, addressing Abou-Hashem, who stood within a few paces of him, Hassan said—
“How have you dared to disobey my orders? Did I not tell you last night when our spy reported and described these dahabiahs that they belonged to Franghis who were my friends, whose bread and salt I had eaten, and that I would not permit them to be injured?”
“And why are we to be cheated of our spoil?” replied Abou-Hashem, furious at being called upon to resign so rich a booty; “why are we to be robbed of the fruit of our risks and toil by your sympathy with these unbelieving dogs? Am I not right, comrades?” said he, looking round at the armed men grouped behind him. “We will no longer submit to this tyranny; our arms shall keep what our arms have won.” A murmur of applause from his brother-plunderers followed this speech.
“Hark ye, men,” said Hassan in a voice which seemed to gather stern composure as the danger grew more imminent. “I am your chief, freely elected by yourselves, and, by Allah! while I live amongst you I will be obeyed. Not a parcel of booty, not a morsel of bread, shall ye plunder from these boats.”
“Take, then, example from me,” shouted Abou-Hashem to the freebooters behind him; and as he spoke he drew a pistol from his belt to level it at his leader’s breast. But Hassan’s eye had been upon him, and quick as thought one blow from the mace sent the pistol high into the air, and a second stretched Abou-Hashem senseless on the deck.
“Take example from him,” said Hassan to the freebooters in a tone of bitter scorn; “it is a deed worthy of the warriors of the desert to murder their chief and to plunder those whose bread he has eaten.” Observing symptoms of hesitation in the fierce and lawless band, he continued, “Return to your duty, and I may yet forgive you: if you refuse, the consequences be on your own heads.”
With a pistol in each hand he calmly awaited the result of the conference which they held in a few brief and broken sentences. During this time Abou-Hamedi and Abd-hoo stood beside their leader, pistol in hand, and ready to spend the last drop of their blood in saving or avenging him.
Hassan took advantage of the brief pause to say to Emily, who still stood trembling near her bound father, “Sit down, sit down, lady, beside your father; pistol-balls may be flying in a moment, and a stray one might strike you. It is only my life now that they seek; and if I fall, tell them in Cairo that Hassan’s death redeemed the last year of his life.”
Having uttered these words in the low and gentle tone so well preserved in Emily’s remembrance, he once more addressed the still hesitating mutineers.