h,
by the momentum given by the Iron, I thought had stove it in. This much
infuriated his Savage Companions; and I doubt not but they would have
finished me, but the Bullock Bashee, who had orders to the contrary,
constrained them to stay their hand.

What became of my dear Lilias, I was not allowed to know. She was borne
away, shrieking and calling on me, with Streaming Eyes, for help; and I
saw her no more. Myself they dragged downstairs; and when we were come
into the street, flung me, fettered as I was, over the back of an
Artillery Horse, where I lay, face downwards, and in a kind of stupor,
as listless as a Miller's Sack; and so, my Gyves jingling and
clattering, I was conveyed away.

The cruel and remorseless Dey of Algiers I saw no more. Some spark of
shame there might perchance be in the Ruffian's Breast that forbade him
to gaze upon the man he had pardoned and enfranchised, and had now
traitorously Kidnapped. I suppose that in the Thieves' philosophy of
this Fellow he reasoned that, if promises are to be kept to Live Men,
there is no need to keep them unto Dead ones; that he was released from
all his obligations by the demise of Hamet Abdoollah; and that, as the
Physician could not cure him of the Toothache again, if he chanced to
get it, 'twas idle to continue bestowing Favours where no Benefits could
be derived.

Into a wretched Dungeon of the Arsenal was poor J. Dangerous thrust,
with naught for victuals but Musty Beans and Stinking Water. When I had
been here, groaning and gnashing my teeth, for seven days,--which seemed
to me thrice seven years,--a Rascally Fellow that I knew to be a Scribe
belonging to the Divan of the Dey comes into my Dungeon to tell me that
the Packet-ship has come in from Marseilles, and that in answer to my
letter to Monsieur Foscue, that Merchant sends word that he knows
nothing at all about me; to which the Rascally Scribe adds, in the
Lingua Franca, that I was no doubt an Impostor who had trumped up a
convenient Fable of my being a Gentleman, and having Correspondents who
would be Answerable for my Ransom in Europe, in order to get better food
and treatment until the real truth could be known. Whereupon he tells
me that his Highness the Dey had not yet quite made up his mind as to
whether he shall have me Impaled, or merely Flayed Alive, and so slams
the door in my Face.

In this Horrible Dungeon did I continue for seven days more, mostly
grovelling on the ground, my face do