The Pirate City: An Algerine Tale

Ah! ye members of the “Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals” in Algiers, forgive us if we interject here the observation that there is earnest need for your activities at the present day!

Followed by the faithful though uncontrollable Zubby, with a huge triangular grass basket, Mrs Langley entered the tortuous streets of the city, and proceeded to “shop.”

Fear not, reader! It is not our purpose to drag you through the details of the too well-known process. We pass onward to matters more important.

Having traversed several streets in which Moors sat cross-legged, embroidering purses and slippers with gold, in holes in the wall so small that a good-sized bust might have objected to occupy them; where cobblers, in similar niches, made and repaired round-toed shoes of morocco leather, and the makers of horn rings for fingers, wrists, arms and ankles wrought as deftly with their toes as with their fingers; where working silversmiths plied their trade in precious metals and gems in a free-and-easy open-air fashion that would have made the mouth of a London thief water; and where idle Arabs sipped coffee and smoked the live-long day, as though coffee and tobacco were the aim and end of life—which latter they proved indeed to many of them,—Mrs Langley with Agnes, followed by Zubby, paused before a niche in which were displayed for sale a variety of curious old trinkets of a nondescript and utterly useless character. In short, it appeared to be an Algerine curiosity-shop. Here, while bargaining with the owner for some small articles, she was surprised to hear a voice at her ear say in French—

“Madame, good morning; I have great pleasure in this unexpected meeting.”

She turned hastily, and found the Danish consul standing by her side.

“Ah, monsieur,” she said, returning his salutation, “it is indeed seldom that I wander alone through this labyrinth, but necessity compels me. An English friend wishes me to send her a few characteristic articles, and I can trust no one to choose them for me. But, you look anxious.”

“Yes, excuse me,” replied the Danish consul in haste, glancing round. “I am followed, persecuted I may say. I had intended to call for your husband to-day to beg him to use his influence with the Dey in my behalf, but I cannot—circumstances—in short, will you kindly mention to him that I am in trouble because of the non-payment of the tribute due by our Government, and—”

Breaking off suddenly, the Danish consul bowed low and hurried away. Mrs Langley observed that, immediately after, a chaouse, or executioner of the palace, passed her.

This incident induced her to conclude her shopping rather quickly, and furnished her with food for thought which entirely engrossed her mind until Agnes exclaimed—

“Oh mamma, look! look! they’re going to shave a little boy!”

Mrs Langley, directed by Agnes’s finger, looked and found that this was indeed true. A little boy, between eight and nine years of age, was seated in a barber’s shop near them, with a towel about his neck, glancing timidly, yet confidently, in the face of an elderly man who advanced towards him with an open razor, as though about to cut his throat. As it turned out, however, neither throat nor chin were in danger of violation. It was the head that the barber attacked, and this he scraped quite bare, without the aid of soap, leaving only a tuft of hair on the top. This tuft, we have been informed, is meant as a handle by means of which the owner may, after death, be dragged up into heaven! but we rather incline to the belief that it is left for the purpose of keeping the red fez or skull-cap on the head.

Be this as it may, no sooner did the urchin behold Mrs Langley, than, casting aside the towel and ignoring the barber, he rushed out and exclaimed—in a compound of French, Arabic, and Lingua Franca, of which we give a free translation—

“Oh, missus, me massr, console Dansh, vants see ver moch your hosbund!”

“Thank you; I know it,” replied Mrs Langley, giving the boy a small coin and a bright smile.

Quite satisfied that he had fulfilled his duty, the urchin returned to the barber and the lady proceeded to the palace.

Here she was received ceremoniously by the father of Ashweesha, Sidi Cadua, a mild, gentle-spirited, little old Turk, who would have made a very fine old English gentleman, but who was about as well fitted to be father-in-law to an Algerine Dey, and a man of position in the pirate city, as he was to be Prime Minister to the man in the moon.

Sidi Cadua conducted her to the seraglio, where she was heartily welcomed by the ladies, who expressed their delight at meeting her with girlish glee. Ashweesha laughingly said that she was glad to see Agnes had become a Mohammedan, on which Mrs Langley related what circumstances had caused the change, and the Sultana listened to the recital with tears of laughter running down her cheeks.

The English lady had naturally expected something gorgeous in the palace, but she was not prepared for the lavish display of wealth that met her eyes everywhere.

She found the Sultana and her six beautiful children in a room which, though not imposing in size, glittered with decoration. The ceiling and walls were rich with tessellated and arabesque work. The floor was covered with a carpet of cut velvet, with a pattern of the richest and most brightly-coloured flowers; and this carpet was strewn with costly jewels, which shone in the variegated light of the stained-glass windows above like glowing fire-flies. Around the walls were several recesses or niches, arched in the Moorish horse-shoe style. In one of these was a glass cabinet, on the shelves of which were some splendid articles of jewellery. In another recess hung a variety of swords and pistols, chiefly of Eastern manufacture, their handles and scabbards blazing with diamonds. Opposite to these stood a gilt four-post European bedstead, with four mattresses of gold brocade, and curtains of blue tiffany embroidered with gold sprigs. In fact, the apartment and its occupants were adorned with so much magnificence that the genie of Aladdin’s famous lamp would not have improved it, for, although that remarkable personage might have brought unlimited treasure to its decoration, he would not have found a spare inch anywhere on which to bestow it!

The Sultana and her children were alone, with the exception of half-a-dozen beautiful Georgian slaves, and one or two negresses, who attended on them. Of course no gentlemen were present!

“My husband is very fond of yours,” said Ashweesha, with a pleasant smile, leading her guests to a large cushion on the floor, and squatting them down beside her.

“It gratifies me much to hear you say so,” replied Mrs Langley.

They spoke in a jargon of languages, and made up their deficiencies by signs, of which we dare not attempt a characteristic translation.

“He sent you a new slave-girl lately, I believe?” said the Sultana, beginning to feel her way.

“Yes,” exclaimed the guest with animation, “it was very kind of him; and I find her so sweet and amiable, and useful too. She assists me with my dear baby so admirably, as well as with the household, that I begin already to feel as if I could not get on without her. Do you know I have set my heart on raising sufficient money to ransom her and set her free?”

“Then you will only lose her, for she will certainly go home to her husband,” observed Ashweesha, with a look of simplicity.

“Of course; I count on that,” returned Mrs Langley. “You know that we Christians differ from Mohammedans widely on the point of slavery; and I am sure,” she added playfully, “you will not think me rude when I say that I mean to take advantage of your laws, and procure the ransom of as many slaves as possible during my residence here.”

“If you had the wealth of a king,” said Ashweesha, with a smile, “you could not ransom the half of them, they are so numerous.”

“I am too well aware of that,” rejoined the other sadly; “nevertheless, that does not exempt me from my duty. In the laws of my heavenly King and Saviour Jesus Christ it is written—‘Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.’”

The Sultana bent a keen look of interest on her guest, and was about to reply, but seemed to change her mind, and said:—

“It was Sidi Hassan, I am told, who brought in this slave-girl; and, by the way, I hear that he has become your janissary. Do you like him?”

“I have seen so little of him that I can hardly tell.—You have walked with him in the garden, Agnes, several times; what do you think of him?”

“I don’t like him at all!” answered Agnes, with powerful emphasis.

Both ladies laughed, and so did the six little daughters of the Sultana, who had maintained a dignified silence while their elders were conversing.

“My little girl is rather given to take hasty prejudices,” said Mrs Langley apologetically.

“Does your husband find him useful?” continued the Sultana, returning to the charge.

“No doubt he does, but I really cannot say, for my husband has only mentioned him casually, and I never venture to speak of his business affairs unless called on to do so. The fact that Sidi Hassan has been much oftener in town than at our residence since he was sent to us, may account for my slight knowledge about him.”

“Oh! he has been very often in town, has he?” exclaimed Ashweesha.

Before Mrs Langley could reply, an attendant announced that dinner was served in the adjoining room, whereupon the Georgian slaves were ordered to pick up the jewels that strewed the carpet. This they did, and, having locked them in the glass cabinet before mentioned, followed the party into the dining-room.

It was a somewhat peculiar dinner in many respects. There was great variety. Meat, poultry, pastry, and sweatmeats of strange kinds and forms, succeeded each other, and were done full justice to by all present. It was like a glimpse of paradise to little Agnes; for, having been brought up in the simplest of styles, and forbidden pastry and sweatmeats altogether since the day of her birth, she absolutely revelled in new sensations.

It must not be supposed that she violently broke through all restraints on this occasion; but her mother saw that if old rules were enforced, the child would be confused by the conflicting entreaties of her hostesses and the denials of her mother, while the Sultana might be offended. Mrs Langley, therefore, gave her carte-blanche to eat what she pleased.

The party all sat on embroidered cushions on the floor, round a small low table made of silver and mother-of-pearl. On this, each dish was placed separately; and all ate out of the same dish, after the Moorish fashion. The spoons were made of rosewood, tipped with amber, and the napkins were richly embroidered in gold, silver, and variously coloured silk on a curiously-wrought linen ground. All the vessels used were of the most elaborate and costly description, and we need scarcely add that the viands were good. Among other things there was fish, which was served and eaten with honey! but the chief among the dishes was kooskoos. This was the pièce de résistance of the Moorish dinner-table, the substance on which the ladies chiefly fed and flourished. To be fat was, in those days, the most desirable attribute of a wife in the eyes of an Algerine husband, therefore kooskoos was eaten in quantity. It was made largely of flour, rolled, in some mystical manner, into the form of little pellets, like small sago; this, boiled with butter and other fatty substances, with bits of meat and chicken, and other viands mixed through it,—the whole being slightly seasoned and spiced,—was deemed food fit for a Sultana.

During the meal they became very chatty, and the young people paid much attention to Agnes, who, being a sensitively good girl, felt, every time that she experienced a new taste, as though she were breaking all the Ten Commandments, notwithstanding the permission of her mother!

Several times Ashweesha turned the conversation on the home affairs of her guests, and attempted to gain further information about Sidi Hassan’s doings, but found, much to her annoyance, that Mrs Langley knew little more than she had already communicated. Her good-humour was, however, restored by that lady’s unaffected admiration of the numerous lovely things by which she was surrounded. She specially praised the splendid napkins and the spoons before referred to, and when they rose from table, the Sultana presented her and Agnes with those that they had used.

After giving them coffee and making another vain attempt to extract information, Ashweesha dismissed her guests, who returned home charmed with the novelty of their reception and entertainment.