Antonio had of late appeared to have forgotten his former animosity towards us, and whenever he could find opportunity he entered into conversation with Halliday and me. Still, notwithstanding the friendly manner he put on, I did not trust him; for there was something so singularly repulsive in his countenance, that I could not believe he was sincere.
He told us at last that we were approaching his country. “Now will be the time for you to make your escape,” he said in a confidential tone. “You are weary of this life, I am sure; and if you will fly with me, you will be welcomed by my people, and be treated as great chiefs: besides which, as they have constant communication with the coast, you will without difficulty be able to return to your own country.”
He was one day speaking in this way, when Selim, who was near, overheard him, but pretended to take no notice. The lad, however, watched for an opportunity when I was alone, and warned me not to trust the black, “He hates you and your friends, and has resolved on your destruction,” he whispered to me. “I overheard him, when he did not know I was near, speaking to Abdalah, and it is clear that his intention is to betray you. Now, we will try to be even with him; the sheikh already mistrusts him, for he has been the cause of much trouble in the camp, about which I will tell you by-and-by. Do you therefore pretend to agree to his plans, and tell him that he must steal out first to a certain place beyond the camp, and that you will join him. I will then take care to let the sheikh know that he has gone, and that you have no intention of deserting, and will advise that men should be sent to seize him. If he is caught, it will prove that what I have said is true; and if he escapes, he will be afraid to return, and we shall be quit of him.”
“But we should thus be acting a very treacherous part, to which I can on no account consent,” I answered.
“You must leave that to me,” replied Selim. “All you have to do is to listen to his plans: and depend upon it, if you do not, as I advise, pretend to agree with them, he will find some other means to betray you.”
Notwithstanding what Selim had said, I, of course, could not consent to do as he proposed. However, I found he was not to be defeated. He managed to insinuate himself into the confidence of Antonio, and persuaded him that it would be imprudent to be seen conversing with me, but that he himself would act as go-between; and he was thus able to manage matters according to his own fancy. Had I known at the time how Selim was acting, I should have felt it my duty to put a stop to his proceedings, although they were intended for our benefit.
The very next night there was a commotion in the camp, and we heard that Antonio had been sent for by the sheikh. His name was shouted in all directions, but he was nowhere to be found. Soon afterwards a party, accompanied by Selim, set out from the camp; from which circumstance I had little doubt that the young black had carried out his treacherous plan. I could not help fearing, at the same time, that, notwithstanding his precautions, Ben, Halliday, and I might be implicated in it, and suffer accordingly.
We were still employed in our usual evening’s occupation when the party returned, bringing back Antonio, with his hands securely bound together. As the light of the fire, opposite which he was led, fell on his countenance, it struck me that it had more of an angry and vindictive than of a downcast look. He threw his fierce glance on me especially, appearing even then to be meditating a bitter revenge, as he naturally considered that it was owing to my treachery that he had been captured. He was forthwith conducted into the presence of the sheikh, who, with his brother Abdalah and other elders of the tribe, was seated by a fire beneath a group of palm-trees. Here, squatting on the ground, with a guard standing over him, he was allowed to listen to the consultation they were holding as to the punishment he merited.
Selim, who managed to get near enough to hear what was going on, told us that some were for shooting him forthwith, or cutting off his head, while others considered that a sound beating would be sufficient to keep him in order. Though the Arabs are as well acquainted with the bastinado as the Moors and Turks, policy rather than mercy decided them on not inflicting it, as he would thus be unable to march, and it would be necessary to burden a camel with him for many days to come. It was at length decided that he should receive a severe beating; and that, should he still be refractory, he should be sold to the first slave-caravan for any sum he would fetch. That might seem a light punishment; but, as strong slaves are often compelled to carry burdens as well as work hard, should he be sold he would have to march for many months over the burning desert,—and as slave-merchants keep a watchful eye on their property, he would have but little chance of escape: so the fate in store for him was calculated, it was considered, to keep him on his good behaviour.
“The camp will not be long troubled with him, however,” said Selim, when he had finished his account. “He is sure before long to create a disturbance, and the sheikh will sell him to the first caravan we meet with.”