fell in the struggle, as did also Sciabas, the fair
Russian--the cause of his journey and his misfortunes. The baby,
however, was preserved alive; and when the Maltese boarded their
prize, they were attracted by the gorgeously dressed child, and
inquired to whom it belonged. The answer, given either in fear or in
the hope of obtaining better treatment, was that he was the son of
Sultan Ibrahim, and was on his way to Mecca, under the charge of the
chief eunuch, to be circumcised. The captors, greatly exhilarated by
the intelligence, at once made all sail for Malta, and there the
glorious news was accepted without question. For a time the knights
were so elated that they seriously began to consult together as to the
possibility of exchanging the supposed Ottoman prince for the Island
of Rhodes, which had slipped from their enfeebled grasp. The Grand
Master of the Order and the Grand Croci had no doubt as to the
genuineness of their captive, and wrote letters to Constantinople
informing the Sultan where he might find his heir and his chief
spouse, if he chose to comply with the Frankish conditions. It is
true that Sciabas was dead, but the worthy knights had recourse to
subterfuge in dealing with the infidel, and had dressed up another
slave to represent her. Portraits also were taken of the reputed
mother and child, and were sent with descriptive letters to the
European courts. The French and Italians eagerly purchased these
representations of the beloved of the Grand Turk; but that mysterious
being himself preserved an ominous silence. Even the knights of Malta,
who hated him as a Mohammedan, nevertheless supposed that the Ottoman
ruler was human, and when he made no effort to recover his lost ones,
began to have some doubt as to the identity of the child of whom they
made so much. In their dilemma they despatched a secret messenger to
Constantinople, who contrived to ingratiate himself at the seraglio,
and lost no opportunity of inquiring whether any of the imperial
children were missing, and whether it were true that the Sultana had
been captured by the Maltese some years before. Of course his
researches were fruitless, and in 1650 he wrote to his employers
assuring them that they had all the while been on a false scent. It
was deemed best to let the imposture die slowly. Little by little the
knights forbore to boast of their illustrious hostage; by degrees they
lessened the ceremonials with which he had been treated, a