Chapter Eleven.
Conversation on religious matters with the Sheikh and Marabouts—The slave track—At the shrine of the saint—I start on a journey—The sheikh grants me a favour—An unpleasant duty—attacked by a wild beast—Antonio haunts our camp—Arrival at our destination.
Day after day we continued to travel southward—further and further from home, as it seemed to us. Whenever we could meet, Halliday, Ben, and I—not trusting to the sheikh’s promises, of whose fickleness we had many proofs—eagerly discussed the possibility of escaping. Ben’s idea was, that if we should arrive at length at a river running into the sea, we might either steal a canoe or build a raft, and float down the stream. We might thus escape from our present masters, who, unaccustomed to the water, would be unable to follow us; but we should run the risk of falling into the hands of still greater savages, who might very likely murder us. Still, our present slavery was well-nigh unbearable, and we were ready to run every risk to escape from it. We were doubtful whether we might venture to take Selim into our counsels. He seemed attached to us, and especially to me; but then, as he had shown a readiness to act treacherously in the case of Antonio, he might, should it be to his interest, play us a similar trick, Halliday thought. I was more inclined to trust him; I liked the expression of the lad’s countenance, and he had hitherto, as far as we could judge, been faithful to us. During the time he had been on board an English ship-of-war, he had learned the truths of Christianity from the boatswain and three or four of the men, who, having become truly converted themselves, had endeavoured to win over their shipmates, and had taken great pains with him. He had been the only survivor of a boat’s crew wrecked on the northern coast of Africa—he, being an excellent swimmer, having gained the shore. He had been kept in slavery a year or more by the Moors; but he at length managed to swim off to a Spanish vessel, and afterwards entered on board the galleon where we first met with him. Accustomed, therefore, to the habits of the Moors, he was able to conduct himself discreetly towards them; and passing for a good Mohammedan, he had in a considerable degree gained their confidence. He had, however, expressed to me more than once his regret at having to play the hypocrite.
“What can I do?” he would observe. “I know that Mohammed was a false prophet; but if I were to say so I should have my head cut off—and to that I cannot make up my mind. Every time I cry out ‘Allah is great, and Mohammed is his prophet,’ I know that I am telling a lie, and pray to be forgiven. Do you think that the true God will forgive me?”
I replied that it was not for me to decide, but that I thought he was bound to try and escape from such thraldom on the first opportunity.
“That is what I shall do,” he answered; “but I will not escape without you; and as I know the ways of the country, and can speak the language of the black people further south, I may, I hope, be of use to you.”
After this conversation, he came to me one day and told me that the sheikh and two marabouts, or priests, who were in the camp, had resolved to make me and my companions turn Mohammedans. “I warn you, that you may know how to behave. Let me advise you not to show any indignation, but rather to pretend that you are ready to listen to what they call the truth.”
The very next day the sheikh summoned me into his presence. I found him seated with the two marabouts; and they at once explained the doctrines of the Mohammedan faith, and to which, according to Selim’s advice, I listened with all the respect I could assume.