gne with the
captain of the Zouave, a fat "Bon viveur" from Marseille, who had an
establishment there and another in Algiers, and who rejoiced in the name
of Barbassou. Tartarin hated all these people. Their gaity redoubled his
misery.

At last, in the afternoon of the third day, there was some unusual
activity on board the ship, which roused our hero from his torpor. The
bell in the bows rang out... the heavy boots of the sailors could be
heard running on the deck... "Engine ahead!... engine astern!." Shouted
the hoarse voice of Captain Barbassou. Then "Stop engine!"

The engine stopped, there was a little tremor and then nothing. The
ferry lay rocking gently from side to side, like a balloon in the air.
This strange silence horrified Tartarin. "My God! We are sinking!" He
cried in a voice of terror, and recovering his strength as if by magic,
he rushed up onto the deck.

Chapter 13.

The Zouave was not sinking. She had just dropped her anchor in a fine
anchorage of deep, dark water. Opposite, on the hillside, was Algiers,
its little matt-white houses running down to the sea, huddled one
against the other, like a pile of white washing laid out on a river
bank. Up above a great sky of satin blue... but oh!... So blue!

Tartarin, somewhat recovered from his fright, gazed at the landscape,
while listening respectfully to the Montenegrin prince, who standing
beside him, pointed out the different quarters of the town. The Casbah,
the upper town, the Rue Bab-Azoum. Very well educated this prince of
Montenegro. What is more he knew Algiers well and spoke Arabic. Tartarin
had decided to cultivate his acquaintance when suddenly, along the rail
on which they were leaning, he saw a row of big black hands grasping it
from below. Almost immediately a curly black head appeared in front of
him and before he could open his mouth the deck was invaded from all
side by a swarm of pirates; black, yellow, half naked, hideous and
terrible. Tartarin knew at once that it was "Them" The fearsome "Them"
who he had so often expected at night in the streets of Tarascon. Now
they had arrived.

At first surprise glued him to the spot, but when he saw the pirates
hurl themselves on the baggage, tear off the tarpaulin covers and begin
to pillage the ship, our hero came to life. Drawing his hunting knife
and shouting "Aux armes!... Aux armes!" To his fellow passengers, he
prepared to lead an assault on the raiders. "Ques aco?... What's th