"I say, Bill, don't he pull well?" exclaimed one of the tars on board the Queen Charlotte.

"Splendiferous!" replied Bill, in great admiration; "an' I do believe that he's creepin' away from the Turk."

This was true; the Arab was steadily increasing the distance between himself and his pursuers, until at last the latter gave up the chase, a consummation which was greeted by some of the excitable spirits in the Queen Charlotte with an irresistible though subdued cheer.

In a short time the Arab rowed alongside the flag-ship.

"Och! Ally ma boo hookum foldimaronky bang," said the Arab, looking up.

"Well, now," exclaimed a surprised Irish tar on board to those near him, "it's often. I've heard that the Arabs had the brogue of Owld Ireland, though the lingo don't square exactly."

"Ah then, brother, that's 'cause ye don't onderstand it. Sure ye might heave us a rope," replied the Arab with a grin.

A roar of laughter greeted this speech, and in another minute Ted Flaggan stood bowing modestly on the quarter-deck of the flag-ship.

While the Admiral was closeted with this unexpected visitor—whose name and deeds, owing to some strange oversight, have been omitted from history,—a light breeze sprang up, which enabled the fleet to stand into the bay and lay-to about a mile from the town.

Meanwhile, Ted Flaggan, having given the Admiral all the information he possessed as to the condition of the city and its defences, was sent forward to take part in the expected fight, or go below out of harm's way, as suited him best. He immediately attached himself, as a supernumerary, to one of the upper-deck guns, and, while giving his amused comrades graphic accounts of life in the pirate city, obtained from them in return a full account of the fleet, and the intentions of the Admiral, as far as these were known. He found his comrades very intelligent, and full of enthusiasm about their leader, whom one of the tars styled "one of the wery best Admirals that England ever owned arter Lord Nelson!"

Their admiration was well deserved.

We have already said that the Admiral had commissioned his fleet and got it into excellent working condition in what was deemed a miraculously short space of time. This, however, was accomplished by no miraculous means, but by the simple force of indomitable energy, rightly and perseveringly applied.

Knowing that the time was short, and that a fleet newly manned could not work well without a great deal of training, he made up for the shortness of time by not allowing a single moment of it to be lost, frittered away, or misapplied. Besides giving the men the usual and proper training while in port preparing to sail, he made several arrangements whereby he continued the training most effectively on the voyage out. Of course it was carried on daily. On Tuesdays and Fridays the ships were cleared for action, and six broadsides were fired, but this was only what may be styled parade practice. Feeling that actual work could only be done well by men of actual experience, he had a twelve-pounder gun placed on the after part of the Queen Charlotte's quarter-deck, and hung a small target, with a very small bull's-eye, at the end of the fore-topmast studding-sail boom, at which all the captains of guns practised every day, so that they acquired not only the habit of laying and working their guns according to rule, but also the art of laying them to good purpose, and many of them became crack shots before they came within sight of the enemy.

The crews were thus kept active and elated; in good health, and filled with respect for the wisdom and knowledge of those in command, as well as with confidence in their own capacity to obey orders with promptitude, unity of action, and vigorous effect.

Half the battles of life, moral as well as physical, are gained by such confidence, founded on experience,—the other half are lost for want of it!

The fleet comprised five line-of-battle ships, two of which were three-deckers; three heavy and two smaller frigates, besides small craft. At Gibraltar they fell in with a Dutch squadron, consisting of five small frigates and a corvette, under Vice-Admiral the Baron Van de Capellen, who asked and obtained leave to co-operate.

There were the Queen Charlotte—110 guns—the flag-ship of Admiral Lord Exmouth, G.C.B., under Captain James Brisbane, C.B.; Impregnable, 98—under Rear-Admiral Milne, who was second in command, and Captain Edward Brace, C.B.; Superb, 74—Captain Charles Elkins; Minden, 74— Captain William Paterson; Albion, 74—Captain John Coode. Of frigates, there were the Leander, 50 guns; Severn, 40; Glasgow, 40; Granicus, 36; and Hebrus, 36. These, with five gun-brigs and four bomb-vessels, named respectively, and not inappropriately, Beelzebub, Fury, Hecla, and Infernal, constituted the British fleet.

The Dutch Admiral hoisted his flag in the Melampus frigate of 44 guns. The Frederica, of same size, was commanded by Captain Van der Straten. The other four vessels were smaller. There were, besides, a flotilla of fifty-five small craft, including mortar and gun-boats, rocket flats, yawls, etcetera.

Opposed to this, which the reader will bear in remembrance was deemed a small fleet, there were on the walls and batteries of Algiers about 500 guns of all sizes and sorts, behind which were inexhaustible supplies of ammunition, and many thousands of as thorough-going rascals as ever defied the strength and tried the patience of the civilised world!

Being thoroughly acquainted with the position and strength of the batteries of the city, Lord Exmouth had arranged the plan of attack, and assigned to each ship and boat its particular station some days before arriving. The addition of the Dutch fleet modified but did not materially alter that plan. Each individual, therefore, from Lord Exmouth to the smallest powder-monkey, was as well primed for action as were the guns of the fleet when the flag of truce returned.

It had been met outside the mole about eleven AM by the captain of the port, and an answer was promised in two hours.

But these pirates had never been celebrated for keeping their word. One o'clock passed, but no answer was forthcoming. Patient and long-suffering as usual—and as he always is—the British Lion delayed a full hour.

"Ah, boys, if we wait till we git a peaceful answer from them villains, we'll wait till doomsday, so we will," said Ted Flaggan to the men of the gun to which he had attached himself.

Ted had thrown off his burnous and washed himself by this time, and now, clad in a borrowed pair of ducks and striped shirt, he stood by the gun commenting pleasantly on his experiences of Algerine life, and pointing out the various buildings and objects of interest in the city to his mates.

"That big white house there," said he, "right fornint ye, with the round top an' the staple all to wan side—that's wan o' the chief mosques. It's somewhere about two hunderd year ould, more or less, an' was built by a slave—a poor feller of a Genoese—an', would you belave it, they kilt him for the shape he gave it! Ah, they're a bad lot intirely! Like a dacent Christian, he made it in the shape o' a cross, an' whin the Dey found that out he chopped the poor man's head off—so he did, worse luck! but it's that they're always doin', or stranglin' ye wid a bow-string, or makin' calf's-futt jelly o' yer soles.—What! 'Ye don't belave it?' Faix, if ye go ashore ye'll larn to belave it. I've seed poor owld women git the bastinado—that's what they calls it—for nothin' at all a'most. Ah, they're awful hard on the women. They kape 'em locked up, they does, as if they was thieves or murderers, and niver lets 'em out—at least the ladies among 'em—for fear o' their bein' runned away wid. It's true what I'm sayin'. An' if wan shud be runned away wid, an' cotched, they ties her in a sack and drowns her.— Good-lookin', is it? Faix, that's more than I can tell 'ee, for all the time I've been in the place I've never wance seed a Moorish woman's face, barrin' the brow an' eyes and top o' the nose, for they cover 'em up wid white veils, so as to make 'em look like ghosts or walkin' corpses. But the Jewesses show their purty faces, an' so do the naigresses.—'are the naigresses purty?' Troth, they may be to their own kith an' kin, but of all the ugly—Well, well, as you say, it's not fair to be hard on 'em, poor critters; for arter all they didn't make theirselves, no more than the monkeys did."

Ted Flaggan was interrupted here by the sudden exclamation of "There she is!" and the next moment the boat with the flag of truce was seen returning with the signal flying—"No answer."

Instantly Lord Exmouth signalled to the fleet, "Are you ready?" to which an affirmative reply was at once returned, and then each ship and boat bore down on its appointed station.

We have already said that the harbour of Algiers was formed by the running out of an artificial pier from the mainland to the small island of Penon, which lies close to the town. On this island stood, (and still stands), a light-house, at the base of which was a powerful three-tier battery of fifty guns. The island itself was defended all round by ramparts and batteries of heavy guns. This was the strong point of the fortifications, and within the small harbour thus formed was collected the whole Algerine fleet, consisting of four frigates, five large corvettes, and thirty-seven gun-boats.

But besides these harbour defences, the sea-wall of the town extended nearly a mile to the southward and a considerable distance to the northward of the harbour, being everywhere strengthened by powerful batteries. The arrangement of the British Admiral was that each battery should be engaged by a special ship or ships of heavy metal, and that the smaller vessels should take up position where they could find room, or cruise about and do as much damage to the enemy as possible. While the liners and frigates were to batter down the walls, the small craft— bomb and rocket boats, etcetera—were to pour shells and rockets into the arsenal. It was terrible work that had to be done, but the curse which it was intended to do away with was more terrible by far, because of being an old standing evil, and immeasurably more prolific of death and misery than is even a hard-fought battle.

The signal to go into action being given, Lord Exmouth led the van in the Queen Charlotte, and the whole fleet bore up in succession, the Dutch Admiral closing in with the rearmost ship of the English line.

Truly it was a grand as well as a solemn sight to see these majestic ships of war sail quietly down on the devoted city in the midst of dead silence, for as yet not a shot had been fired on either side. And the eyes of many, already wide with eagerness, must have opened wider still with surprise, for Lord Exmouth pursued a course of action that was bold even for a British Admiral. He ran the Queen Charlotte before the wind, close up to the walls, and with the sails still standing let go three anchors from the stern, so as to keep her exactly in the required position, just before the opening of the mole, and with her vast broadside within pistol-range of the walls, flanking all the batteries from the mole-head to the light-house.

Still no shot was fired. The boldness of the act seemed to have confounded and paralysed the enemy, insomuch that a second ship of the line had almost taken her position close to the stern of her predecessor before the battle began. The effect on the minds of the combatants on both sides was so great that they seemed to have forgotten for an instant the dread work they were about to perform. The mole was crowded with troops, many of whom, with irresistible feelings of curiosity, leaped on the parapet to see the vessel pass, while Lord Exmouth, with a strange touch of humanity, waved to them earnestly to get out of the way of the coming fire!

Having coolly lashed the ship by a hawser to the main-mast of an Algerine brig which was attached to the shore, and stoppered the cables, the crew of the flag-ship cheered.

Immediately a gun was fired by the Algerines. At the first flash Lord Exmouth gave the order to "stand by."

At the second gun of the enemy he gave the word "Fire!"

The third was drowned in the thunder of the Queen Charlotte's broadside.

The effect of such heavy metal at so short a range was terrific. The walls absolutely crumbled before it, and it is said that five hundred men fell at the first discharge. All the batteries of the city at once opened fire; the ships did likewise, as they successively got into position, and for some hours after that the roar of artillery was incessant, for, despite the irresistible fire of the fleet, the pirates stood to their guns like men. Thus, although the leading vessels succeeded in anchoring quietly, all the rest of the ships went into action under a very heavy fire, particularly that of the Dutch Admiral, who displayed great wisdom and gallantry in the part which he played. The line-of-battle ships formed in a sort of crescent round the outside of the island. The Superb anchored two hundred and fifty yards astern of the flag-ship; the Minden anchored about her own length from the Superb, and passing her stream-cable out of the larboard gun-room port to the Albion, brought the two ships together. Next came the Impregnable. These sufficiently engaged the batteries on the island or mole. The heavy frigates passed ahead and anchored,—the Leander on the port bow of the Queen Charlotte, the Severn ahead of her, with her starboard broadside bearing on the Fishmarket battery. The Melampus and Diana, Dutch vessels, passed beyond and engaged the southern batteries of the town. The smaller vessels cruised about, directing their fire where it seemed to be most needed, and the flotilla of mortar and rocket boats were distributed at the openings between the line-of-battle ships and the mole.

This admirable disposition of the force seemed to inspire the men with additional confidence, if such were possible, but ere long the dense smoke rendered everything invisible beyond a few yards' distance from the actors in the tremendous fight.

In a few minutes after opening fire, the Queen Charlotte had reduced the fortifications on the mole-head to ruins. She then brought her broadside to bear on the batteries over the gate leading to the mole and on the upper works of the light-house. Her shot told on it with fatal accuracy, crumbling the tower and bringing down gun after gun, thus proving that the ball-practice on the voyage out had not been undertaken in vain. Indeed, so expert did some of the gunners find themselves that they actually amused themselves at one part of the day in attempting to hit the Algerine flag-staff!

It chanced that, owing to some alteration in the arrangements, our friend Rais Ali was transferred from the battery on the walls, where he had originally been stationed, to that on the light-house, and when he beheld gun after gun tumbling helplessly over the crumbling parapets, his spirit fired, and he amazed his comrades by displaying a disregard of personal danger for which he had never before got credit. Whether it was that Ted Flaggan had underrated him, or that there is truth in the proverb about extremes meeting, we cannot tell, but certain it is, that when Rais Ali saw every gun of the battery dismounted but one, he rushed at that one like an enraged lion, seized the rammer from the man who wielded it, and began to load.

He might have spared himself the trouble, for before he got the charge rammed home, a shot from the terrible Queen Charlotte struck the parapet just underneath, burst it up, and toppled the gun over. Rais leaped on the ramparts, waved his scimitar with a yell of defiance, and, tumbling after the gun, was lost amid a cloud of lime-dust and debris.

Strange to say, he rose from out the ruin almost unhurt, and quite undismayed.

Hasting along the quay without any definite end in view, he found the captain of the port getting the flotilla of gun-boats ready for action. There were thirty-seven of them, and up to that time they had lain as snugly in the harbour as was compatible with a constant shower of shells and rockets tumbling into them. With great daring the pirates had resolved to make a dash with these, under cover of the smoke, and attempt to board the British flag-ship.

"Where go you?" demanded the infuriated Rais.

The captain of the port hurriedly explained.

"I go with you," cried Rais, jumping into one of the boats; "it is fate—no man can resist the decree of fate."

All the boats pushed swiftly off together, and did it so silently that they were close under the bow of the flag-ship before being observed. The Leander also saw them, and a few guns from her, as well as from the flag-ship, were instantly turned on them.

"Musha! look there!" cried Ted Flaggan, who chanced to be on the part of the ship nearest them.

A tremendous crash followed, and thirty-three out of the thirty-seven boats were in one moment sent to the bottom!

Of the four that escaped and put about to retreat, one came within the range of the gun at which Flaggan served. It was trained to bear.

"Fire!" said the captain.

"Howld on!" cried Ted, suddenly clapping his hand on the touch-hole, and receiving the red-hot poker on the back of it.

"What's that for, mate?" demanded the man who held the poker, as he quickly raised it.

"All right, me hearty; fire away," said Ted, as he quietly removed his hand.

Next moment the gun leaped back as if affrighted at its own vomit of shot, smoke, and fire, and a column of white foam rose from the sea, astern of the boat.

The momentary check had delivered it from destruction, and Ted Flaggan had the satisfaction of knowing that he had saved his friend Rais Ali, as he tenderly patted his injured hand.

More than an hour of this heavy firing failing to produce submission, Lord Exmouth resolved to destroy the Algerine fleet. The Leander was ordered to cease firing, and the flag-ship barge, under Lieutenant Richards, was ordered to board the nearest frigate of the enemy, with laboratory torches and carcass shells. This duty was gallantly performed, and so effectually, that the men of the barge had barely time to tumble over the side when the frigate was a mass of flames. The barge was received with three hearty cheers on its return. Next, the launch of the Queen Charlotte opened on the largest frigate in the port with carcass shells, and despite the frantic efforts of the Algerines to save her, she was soon completely on fire. From this frigate the fire spread to all the other boats and vessels in the harbour, and from these to the storehouses and arsenal, until the whole place was wrapped in smoke and flames.

Meanwhile the other ships had done terrible execution on the walls and houses immediately opposite to them, while the bomb-vessels threw their deadly missiles right over their own ships and into the town and arsenal, with tremendous effect.

Thus the work of destruction went on all the afternoon, while men, of course, fell fast on both sides—for the deadly game of war cannot be carried on except at fearful cost. Even in the secondary matter of materiel the cost is not small. As night approached the guns of the enemy were completely silenced, and the ships began to husband their ammunition, for they had by that time fired an immense quantity of gunpowder, and 50,000 shot, weighing more than 500 tons of iron; besides 960 shells of large size, as well as a considerable quantity of shot, shell, and rockets from the flotilla! The result was that the entire fleet of the pirates was destroyed, and the sea-defences of Algiers, with a great part of the town itself, were shattered and crumbled in ruins.

Then the fleet hauled off with considerable difficulty, owing to the absence of wind; but the pirates had not given in, for they kept spitting at their foes from the upper batteries of the town until half-past eleven at night, when the ships got out of range and firing ceased.

Strange to say, the powers of nature, which had hitherto slumbered quietly, now came into play. The breeze freshened and a tremendous storm of thunder, lightning, and rain came on, as if to mock the fury of man, and humble him under a sense of his relative littleness.

But man is not easily humbled. Next morning the pirates still showed a disinclination to give in, and the British fleet resumed the offensive in order to compel them to do so.

The gun-boats were again placed in position, and Lieutenant Burgess was sent ashore with a flag of truce to demand unconditional surrender.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE LAST.

In a dimly-lighted cell of a massive stone building not far from the palace of the Dey, sat Colonel Langley, Francisco Rimini and his two sons, Bacri the Jew, and the officers and men belonging to the Prometheus—all heavily ironed. The Padre Giovanni was also there, but not, like the others, a prisoner.

He was attending to his self-imposed duty of comforting the sick and dying. Among the other prisoners was an Italian slave, a nobleman, who had broken down on the ramparts and rebelled, and was sent to prison as being the most convenient hospital where he might be kept until the pirates should find leisure to flog him into submission or to death. But Death had a mind to do the work according to his own pleasure. The slave felt himself to be sinking, and, through the influence of Bacri with the jailer, he had been permitted to send for Giovanni. Other slaves were there too, doomed to punishment, or, in other words, to various degrees of torture. They lay or cowered around the cell awaiting the issue of the fight.

It was a terrible sight to see the varied expressions of anxiety, fear, or dogged resolution depicted in the faces of these men. Some of them knew well that death, accompanied by excruciating torture, was certain to be their portion when the bombardment should be over. Others hoped that a severe bastinado might be the worst of it. None expected anything more—even though the British should win the day—than that there would be some modification in treaties which would not extend to the slaves of foreign nations.

They all—with the exception of the Padre—maintained an almost unbroken silence during the bombardment; but their restless motions and glances showed how busy their thoughts were, and a grim smile would ever and anon curl the lips of some when a chance shot struck the building and shook it to its foundation. And oh! how anxiously one or two desperate spirits hoped that a shell would enter it, and scatter sudden death among them all!

It was solemn, and strange, too, in the midst of the interminable thunder, to hear the gentle voice of the man of God quoting from the peace-speaking Word, as he knelt beside the dying man and dwelling more especially on passages in which the loving Jesus seeks to cheer His people with prospects of rest and peace, such as—"Peace be unto you;" "Let not your hearts be troubled, ye believe in God, believe also in me;" "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Even the hardened among the wretched and demoralised sufferers there could not choose but hear and note the powerful contrast between the gentle voice of Almighty God that thus murmured within the prison, and the crashing voice of puny man that roared outside!

In the darkness of that night Bacri crept to the side of Mariano, and whispered hastily—

"I may not get another opportunity to speak to thee. Just before I came hither Angela and her sister were taken from my care by force. They are now in the palace, under the care of Zara. Omar intends to keep them."

Mariano turned to reply, but the Jew had retired noiselessly as he came.

Early in the morning after the fight the prison-door opened, and a band of Turkish soldiers entered. The garish light of day, as it streamed over the dungeon floor, revealed the fact that the shattered frame of the Italian slave had found rest at last.

The soldiers looked fagged and dishevelled. Many of them wore bandages about their heads and limbs. They did not speak, but drew up in a line, while their leader advanced with a negro, who proceeded to file the fetters from off the British consul and his countrymen. In a few minutes he led them out between the soldiers, and conducted them towards the palace.

Although the Turkish officer could not, or would not, converse with Colonel Langley, the latter had little difficulty in making a pretty good guess as to how matters stood, for on his way to the palace, short though it was, he saw devastation enough to convince him that the British had gained the day. Arrived at the palace, the party were locked up in an anteroom.

Meanwhile, in the audience-hall, which was considerably damaged by the artillery of the fleet, Omar Dey held a divan. The building in which this court had been held in former times was now a ruin, and many of the councillors who had been wont to assemble in it had gone to their last account.

Omar was very pale, and moved with difficulty, having been wounded slightly in various places. Indeed, all the statesmen who surrounded him bore marks, more or less severe, of having played a part in the late action. In the midst of an eager discussion, an attendant entered, and announced the arrival of a British officer with a flag of truce.

"Admit him," said the Dey, who, although boiling over with rage and despair, had sense enough to make up his mind to bow to the power which he could not overcome.

Immediately Lieutenant Burgess was ushered into the court, accompanied by Rais Ali in the capacity of translator, and two of his boat's crew, one of whom was, by special permission, Ted Flaggan.

Without wasting time in useless ceremony, the lieutenant ordered Rais to read aloud the paper which he had been commissioned by Lord Exmouth to deliver to the Dey.

Poor Rais Ali appeared to have expended all his bravery on the ramparts, for he trembled and grew paler as he took the paper in his hand.

"Cheer up, owld boy," whispered Flaggan, as Ali turned to advance towards the Dey; "ye've got more pluck than I guv 'ee credit for. Never say die."

Whether it was the result of these encouraging words, or desperation, we know not, but Rais immediately advanced and read the paper with considerable fluency. It ran as follows:—

"To His Highness the Dey of Algiers.

"Sir,—For your atrocities at Bona on defenceless Christians, and your unbecoming disregard of the demands I made yesterday, in the name of the Prince Regent of England, the fleet under my orders has given you a signal chastisement, by the total destruction of your navy storehouses and arsenal, with half your batteries. As England does not make war for the destruction of cities, I am unwilling to visit your personal cruelties upon the inoffensive inhabitants of the country, and I therefore offer you the same terms of peace which I conveyed to you yesterday in my Sovereign's name. Without the acceptance of these terms you can have no peace with England.

"If you receive this offer as you ought, you will fire three guns; and I shall consider your not making this signal as a refusal, and shall renew my operations at my own convenience.

"I offer you the above terms provided neither the British consul, nor the officers and men so wickedly seized by you from the boats of a British ship of war, have met with any cruel treatment, or any of the Christian slaves in your power; and I repeat my demand that the consul and officers and men may be sent off to me, conformable to ancient treaties.—I have, etcetera, Exmouth."

The terms of peace referred to ran thus:—

I. The abolition for ever of Christian slavery.

II. The delivery to my flag of all slaves in the dominions of the Dey, to whatever nation they may belong, at noon to-morrow.

III. To deliver also to my flag all money received by the Dey for the redemption of slaves since the commencement of this year, at noon to-morrow.

IV. Reparation shall be made to the British consul for all losses he may have sustained in consequence of his confinement.

V. The Dey shall make a public apology in presence of his ministers and officers, and beg pardon of the consul in terms dictated by the captain of the Queen Charlotte.

The proud pirate chief did not move a muscle of his pale face, or bend his head while these terms were read to him; nevertheless, he agreed to them all. The consul and others were called into the hall and delivered up; the three guns were fired, and thereafter Lord Exmouth directed that, on the Sunday following, "a public thanksgiving should be offered up to Almighty God for the signal interposition of his Providence during the conflict which took place on the 27th between his Majesty's fleet and the ferocious enemies of mankind." In accordance with these terms of peace, all the Christian slaves were collected next day and delivered up.

Sixteen hundred and forty-two were freed on this occasion, and sent on board the fleet. Counting those freed but a short time before, through Lord Exmouth's influence along the Barbary coasts, the total number delivered amounted to above 3000.

The assembling on the decks of the ships of war of these victims of barbaric cruelty, ignorance, and superstition, was a sight that raised powerful and conflicting feelings in the breasts of those who witnessed it. The varied feelings of the slaves were, to some extent, expressed by their actions and in their faces. Old and young were there, of almost every nation; gentle and simple, robust and feeble; men, women, and children. Some, on coming on board, cheered with joy, but these were few, and consisted chiefly of men who had not been long enslaved, and had not suffered much. Others wept with delight, fell on their knees and kissed the decks, or returned thanks to God for deliverance. Some were carried on board, being too ill, or too broken down, to walk. Many appeared to regard the whole affair as a dream, too good to be true, from which they must soon awake—as they had often awaked before— after their uneasy slumbers in the dreadful Bagnio. But the saddest sights of all were the men and women, here and there among the crowd, whose prolonged condition of slavery—in many cases ten, twenty, even thirty years—had rendered them callous as well to joy as to sorrow. Taken in youth, they were now old. What was freedom to them? It did indeed deliver them from the lash and from constant toil, but it could not return to them the years that were gone; it could not recall the beloved dead, who had, perchance, found their graves, sooner than might otherwise have been, in consequence of the misery of hope long deferred, or the toil, beyond capacity, induced by the desire to raise the needful ransom of the loved ones rent from them by these Algerine corsairs. "The heart knoweth its own bitterness." None but themselves could know or tell the awful feelings, or the still more dreadful want of feeling, that caused these wretched ones to look with glazed eyes of total indifference on the wonderful scenes that were enacted around them that day.

Among the released captives, of course, were our friends of the Rimini family.

One of these was seen going about the decks, glancing earnestly and quickly into faces, as if in search of some one.

It was Mariano seeking for Angela! He was closely followed by Ted Flaggan and Lucien.

"Depind on it, they've kep' her back," said Ted.

"I fear they have," said Lucien.

Mariano said nothing, but went straight to the officer in charge of the deck, and demanded a body of men to go ashore and recover the Sicilian captives.

The case was brought before the chief, who at once granted Mariano's request, and sent a party on shore.

Arrived at the palace they made a formal demand that the sisters and the child should be delivered up.

At first Omar pretended ignorance on the point. Then he suddenly recollected two female slaves who had been forgotten, and sent for them, but they were not those for whom Mariano sought! At last, seeing that there was no help for it, he gave orders that Paulina Ruffini, and her child and sister, should be given up.

Need we say that Mariano kept pretty close to Angela after that, and that Angela did not by any means object? We think not!

Besides these captives there were a few others whom the Dey endeavoured to retain, but Lord Exmouth was inexorable. He insisted on every individual being set free, and spared no pains to ascertain that none were left behind. Of course it is more than probable that some unfortunates were so carefully concealed as to escape detection, still, as far as it lay in the power of man to act, this part of the Admiral's duty was thoroughly performed.

Thereafter, having accomplished its object, the British fleet left the stricken city, and the freed captives were ultimately returned to their homes.

Thus at last, in 1816, after the lapse of centuries of murder, rapine, and robbery on the high seas, did the Pirate City receive a fatal blow, from which it never completely recovered. It revived a little, indeed, in after years, and made a struggle to renew its old strength and resume its old practices; but, fortunately for mankind, the reigning Dey in 1827 struck the French consul on the face with his fan. The French thereupon declared war and blockaded the town, but it was not till 1833 that they set themselves vigorously to effect a conquest. In that year they landed an army in Algeria at Sidi Ferruch, and swept everything before them. The history of this conquest—and of the subsequent wars of France in Algeria—is full of the deepest interest and most romantic incidents. The barbarians did indeed show fight, and fought bravely, but they might as well have tried to drive back the sea as to check the disciplined battalions of France. In a brief but brilliant campaign they were utterly defeated, the Dey capitulated, the gates were thrown open, and the French marched in and took possession.

From that day to this they have held it, and the Pirate City is now a charming town—with a French foreground, a Moorish middle-distance, and a bright green background—in which, along with Frenchmen, Turks, Kabyles, Negroes and Moors, and amid orange-groves, date-palms, cacti and prickly pears, the invalids of Europe may enjoy summer heat in winter days, and sit outside in December dreaming peacefully, it may be almost sceptically, of other days, when the bastinado and the bow-string flourished in the land.

Less than sixty years ago the Algerine corsairs were the pest of the civilised world and the terror of the Mediterranean. Now, their city is one of our "summer retreats," a sort of terrestrial paradise, and those who resort to it find it difficult to believe that the immediate forefathers of the fine-looking fellows who saunter about the French boulevards and Moorish streets were the ruthless pirates which history too surely proclaims them to have been.

But what of the various characters whom we have thus summoned from the "vasty deep" of memory, to play their little part in this veracious tale?

Of some we know not the end. Of others it would be almost well that we did not. A few terminated their career happily.

Poor Bacri fell a victim to the avarice of Omar, who desired to possess himself of the Jew's wealth. Being an autocrat, he easily found means to accomplish his purpose. He invited Bacri to the palace, conversed affably for a time, and then bowed him out with a smile. On the stair, as he descended, the Jew was met by three chaouses, who seized him, and took him to the strangling-room. Bacri was, as we have said, a powerful man, and struggled long and vigorously for life. But what could he do unarmed against three stalwart men? He ultimately gave in, with the name of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob on his lips, and perished as many a former chief of the Jews in Algiers had perished before him.

Rais Ali having given, as we have seen, incontestable proof of his courage and fidelity during the bombardment, was raised to a position of easy affluence, and for many years continued a respected and harmless inhabitant of the town. His kindly disposition induced him to forego his Mohammedan prejudices against Christians—perchance his intercourse with Christians had something to do with that—and he became a firm friend of the Padre Giovanni during the course of that good old man's career, which did not last long after slavery was abolished. The same feelings induced him to befriend Blindi Bobi, who was also a friend of the Padre.

Poor Ashweesha, and her father, Sidi Cadua, perished under the rod and the bow-string; and Hadji Baba, the story-teller, continued to tell stories and to jest to the end of his days. How the Deys tolerated him has ever remained a matter of surprise to the thoughtful. Ziffa, his naughty daughter, became a wife and a mother, in connexion with three other wives, who were also mothers, and belonged to the Turk whom we have more than once mentioned as the captain of the port.

Colonel Langley returned to England with his wife and children, inexpressibly glad to exchange the atmosphere of the Crescent for that of the Cross. Ted Flaggan was installed as butler to the family, and remained in that position for many years. It is supposed by some of his descendants that he would have continued in it to the present day, if any of the family had remained alive.

As to the various members of the Rimini family, it may suffice that we should dismiss them by drawing a slight sketch:

In a Sicilian cottage near the sea, a little old lady—some would say a dear little old lady—sits in a high-backed chair. She gazes pensively, now on the blue Mediterranean, now on a family group which consists of the dark-eyed Juliet and the earnest Lucien, who are vainly striving to restrain the violence of their youngest son; the eldest being engaged in a surreptitious attempt to pull down a map of Algiers, which hangs on the opposite wall. Mariano, with his wonted vivacity, stands before the old lady tossing a small female specimen of humanity as near to the ceiling as is compatible with prolonged existence. Angela looks on admiringly. She does not appear to care much for Mariano now! Why she takes so much interest in the female baby we leave to the reader to discover. Old Francisco is there too, bluffer and bolder than ever, and so is Paulina, with a beautiful dark-haired girl, who is the very image of the tall handsome man engaged in conversation with Francisco.

It is no accidental coincidence this meeting. It is a family gathering, planned and carried out from year to year, in commemoration of the day when the family was delivered from slavery and sorrow.

They have just finished dinner, and there has been much earnest, thankful converse about the days gone by. They have fought their battles o'er again. They have re-told the oft-told tales, feeling as if they were almost new, and have reiterated their gratitude to the God of Love for His great and manifold mercies.

We have not space to relate all that they said, but we may give the concluding sentences.

"You're a wild boy, Mariano, as you always were," said the little old lady with the rippling mouth, as the young man plunged his little daughter into her lap head-foremost.

"And as I mean to be to the end of the chapter," replied Mariano. "How often, grandmother, have you not tried to impress on me the importance of following good examples? Have I not acted on your advice? Doubtless no man is perfect, and I am far—very far—from claiming to have been thoroughly successful in my efforts; but I have tried hard. Did I not, while in Algiers, follow the example of my dear father in exhibiting at all times a spirit of obstinacy that all but drove the pirates delirious with rage? Did I not afterwards imitate Lucien, (your pet-pattern), in getting to me the very best wife that the wide world could produce, and do I not now intend to follow your own example in remaining young in spirit until I am old in years? Taunt me not, then, with being wild— you cannot cure me."

"I fear not," replied the little old lady with a sigh which did not accord in the slightest degree with the ripples that played round her lips.

"Wildness runs in the family, mother," said Francisco, with a broad smile and a glance at Lucien's eldest hope, who had at that moment succeeded in breaking the string of the map, and pulling Algiers down on his head, "the Riminis have it in the blood and bone.—Get up and don't whimper, there's a brave fellow," added the burly merchant as the astonished youth arose; "I only wish that one of the great Powers would pull down the real city of pirates as effectually as you have settled the map. Lord Exmouth no doubt gave it a magnificent pounding, but utter obliteration is the only thing that will do."

"That's true, father," cried Lucien; "it must be conquered by a civilised nation, and the Turks be driven out, or held in subjection, if Europe is to have peace. Depend on't they will be at their old tricks ere long."

"I should like to be commander-in-chief when the war of conquest begins," said Mariano.

"A poor job you'd make of it, my son," said Francisco.

"Why so, father?"

"Why? because hot blood and a giddy head with a revengeful spirit are not the best elements wherewith to construct a commander-in-chief."

"Ah! father, with every wish to be respectful I cannot refrain from reminding you of a certain pot which was reported once to have called a kettle black. Ha!" continued Mariano, turning towards the little old lady, "you should have seen him, granny, in the Bagnio of Algiers, when the guards were inclined to be rather hard on some of the sick—"

"No, no!" interrupted the old lady, shaking her head; "don't talk of that."

"Well, I won't, except to say that I'm thankful we are well out of it."

"It seems all like a strange dream," returned the old lady thoughtfully.

"So it does, mother," murmured Francisco, "so it does,—an almost incredible dream."

And so it seems to us, reader, now that we have closed the record of it; nevertheless it was no dream, but a sad and stern reality to those who played their part in it—to those who sorrowed and suffered, sixty years ago, in the Pirate City.

THE END.