“And I am sure I don’t want to work for these blackamoors,” observed Ben.
The general feeling, therefore, being against putting ourselves in the power of the Arabs, and thinking we could hold out, we remained perfectly still, completely concealed by the side of the bank. The strangers continued to approach, and it appeared very probable that we should be discovered. We lay quiet, however, and watched them; and at length, satisfied that they were mistaken, they continued their route to the southward, along the line of sand-hills which ran parallel with the coast. We watched them as long as they were in sight, and then descending to the sea-shore, the tide being out, continued our march over the hard sand. We had allowed the strangers to get so far ahead that we were not likely again to fall in with them.
“It strikes me, sir, that while the water is low we ought to be looking out for some oysters or mussels, or we shall have nothing to eat when dinner-time comes,” observed Ben to Boxall. “I see some rocks on ahead where we are very likely to find them.”
“You are right, Ben,” answered Boxall. “I ought to have thought of that myself, but I was considering how we should meet the Arabs should we again fall in with them, or what bribe we could offer to induce them to conduct us either to Magador in Morocco, the nearest place where we shall find an English consul, or else to Saint Louis, a French settlement in the south, which is, I conceive, considerably nearer. It is a pretty long march either way,—half the width of the great Desert of Sahara, north and south.”
“I can, at all events, make myself understood, and I will say whatever you advise,” I observed.
“My opinion is, that on all occasions we should speak the truth,” observed Boxall. “We must therefore say that we are British officers, wrecked on the coast, and that, if they will conduct us to any place from whence we can communicate with our friends, we will reward them handsomely.” To all which, of course, Halliday and I agreed.
We had now reached the rocks where Ben had hoped to find some shell-fish. Taking off our shoes and socks, and tucking up our trousers, we commenced our search, armed with our knives and wooden swords. No oysters were to be found on the rocks, or in the shoal water in which we waded. However, we obtained as many mussels and some other shell-fish as we could carry in our pockets; and Ben captured a large crab, which was a prize, we agreed, worth having. And as by this time the tide was running in, we were now obliged to return to the shore.
“We must endeavour to light a fire and cook this food,” observed Boxall. “If we attempt to live much longer on raw provisions, we shall be attacked by scurvy, and shall assuredly be unable to continue our journey.”
“As there are no trees hereabouts, and as we have neither flint nor tinder, I don’t see how we shall get a fire to cook our food,” Ben observed.
“But there are roots on some of the sand-hills; and here is a stone I picked up, which I think is a flint,” answered Boxall.