andlestick, an assortment of rusty keys, a flat-iron, and half a dozen
other articles of household furniture. Before any purchases were made,
however, the janissary moved on, and Foster had to follow.

Passing through two or three tortuous and narrow lanes, which, however,
were thickly studded with shops--that is, with holes in the wall, in
which merchandise was displayed outside as well as in--they came to a
door which was strictly guarded. Passing the guards, they found
themselves in a court, beyond which they could see another court which
looked like a hall of justice--or injustice, as the case might be. What
strengthened Foster in the belief that such was its character, was the
fact that, at the time they entered, an officer was sitting cross-legged
on a bench, smoking comfortably, while in front of him a man lay on his
face with his soles turned upwards, whilst an executioner was applying
to them the punishment of the bastinado. The culprit could not have
been a great offender, for, after a sharp yell or two, he was allowed to
rise and limp away.

Our hero was led before the functionary who looked like a judge. He
regarded the middy with no favour. We should have recorded that Foster,
when blown out to sea, as already described, had leaped on the pirate's
deck without coat or vest. As he was still in this dismantled
condition, and had neither been washed nor combed since that event
occurred, his appearance at this time was not prepossessing.

"Who are you, and where do you come from?" was the first question put by
an interpreter.

Of course Foster told the exact truth about himself. After he had done
so, the judge and interpreter consulted together, glancing darkly at
their prisoner the while. Then the judge smiled significantly and
nodded his head. The interpreter turned to a couple of negroes who
stood ready to execute any commands, apparently, and said a few words to
them. They at once took hold of Foster and fastened a rope to his
wrist. As they did so, the interpreter turned to the poor youth and
said--

"What you tell is all lies."

"Indeed, indeed, it is not," exclaimed the midshipman fervently.

"Go!" said the interpreter.

A twitch from the rope at the same moment recalled our hero to his right
mind; and the remembrance of the poor wretch who had just suffered the
bastinado, and also of Peter the Great's oft-repeated reference to
"whacking," had the effect of crushing the spirit of reb