p, where he
purchased two rolls. Then hurrying on down several narrow streets, the
houses of which met overhead, and excluded much of the light of day, he
turned into a small Moorish coffee-house, which at first seemed to the
sailor to be absolutely dark, but in a few minutes his eyes became
accustomed to it, and he saw that there were several other customers
present.

They were nearly all in Arab costume, and sat cross-legged on two
benches which ran down either side of the narrow room. Each smoked a
long pipe, and sipped black coffee out of a very diminutive cup, while
the host, a half negro, stood beside a charcoal fire, in the darkness of
the far interior, attending to an array of miniature tin coffee-pots,
which exactly matched the cups in size. A young Moor, with a red fez,
sat twanging a little guitar, the body of which was half a cocoa-nut,
covered with parchment.

This musician produced very dismal tones from its two strings, but the
Arabs seemed content, and sat in silent, not to say dignified, enjoyment
of it.

"Eat away now," whispered Rais to Flaggan, as they entered--"cross yoo
legs, look solemn, an' hold yoos tongue. Me goes git shave."

Obedient to instructions--as British seamen always are--Ted took his
place on one of the narrow benches, and, crossing his legs _a la Turk_,
began with real zest to eat the rolls which his friend had provided for
him, and to sip the cup, or thimbleful, of coffee which mine host
silently, by order of the same friend, placed at his side.

Meanwhile, Rais Ali submitted himself to the hands of the host, who was
also a barber, and had his head and face shaved without soap--though a
little cold water was used.

During this operation a boy ran hastily into the cafe and made an
announcement in Arabic, which had the surprising effect of startling the
Arabs into undignified haste, and induced Rais Ali to overturn his
coffee on the barber's naked feet, while he seized a towel and dried
himself violently.

"What's to do, old feller?" demanded Flaggan, with a huge bite of bread
almost stopping up his mouth.

"De British fleet am in sight!" shrieked Rais Ali.

"Ye don't mean that?" cried Ted, in his turn becoming excited. "Then
it's time that _I_ was out o' the city!"

"Yis, away! go to yous cave! Only death for Breetish in Algiers--off!
away!"

The Moor dashed out and hastened to his post on the ramparts, while Ted
Flaggan, drawing his burnous well round him, made