tone, as the three midshipmen conversed seriously and earnestly
together; but occasionally they became elevated to a higher pitch when
Sailor Bill, guarded on the opposite side of the encampment, took part
in the conversation, and louder speech was necessary to the interchange
of thought between him and his fellow-captives.

The Arab watchers offered no interruption. They understood not a word
of what was being said; and so long as the conversation of their
captives did not disturb the _douar_, they paid no heed to it.

"What have they done to you, Bill?" was the first question asked by the
new comers, after they had been left free to make inquiries.

"Faix!" responded the sailor, for it was Terry who had put the
interrogatory; "iverything they cud think av, iverything to make an old
salt as uncomfortable as can be. They've not left a sound bone in my
body; nor a spot on my skin that's not ayther pricked or scratched wid
thar cruel thorns. My carcass must be like an old seventy-four, after
comin' out av action, as full av holes as a meal sieve."

"But what did they do to you, Bill?" said Colin, almost literally
repeating the interrogatory of Terence.

The sailor detailed his experiences since entering the encampment.

"It's very clear," remarked the young Scotchman, "that we need look for
nothing but ill-treatment at the hands of these worse than savages. I
suppose they intend making slaves of us."

"That at least," quietly assented Harry, "Sartin," said the sailor.
"They've let me know as much a'ready. There be two captains to their
crew: one's the smoke-dried old sinner as brought yer in; the other a
big nayger, as black as the ace o' spades. You saw the swab? He's
inside the tent here. He's my master. The two came nigh quarrelling
about which should have me, and settled it by some sort o' a game they
played wi' balls of kaymals' dung. The black won me; and that's why I'm
kep by his tent. Mother av Moses! Only to think of a British tar being
the slave o' a sooty nayger! I never thought it wud a come to this."

"Where do you think they'll take us, Bill?"

"The Lord only knows, an' whether we're all bound for the same port."

"What! you think we may be separated?"

"Be ma saul, Maister Colin, I ha'e ma fears we wull!"

"What makes you think so?"

"Why, ye see, as I've telt ye, I'm booked to ship wi' the black--`sheik'
I've heerd them ca' him. Well, from what I ha'e seed and heerd there's
nae