Picked up at Sea Part 20

"Ver bad, ver bad inteet," said that worthy. "I nevare did no worse in my loife. I shall have to shoot up de shop soon."

"That's a good one!" exclaimed Tom. "You can tell that to the marines.

I bet you've got a snug little pile of piastres stowed away somewhere."

"P'raps I haive," said the old Turk, nodding his head as he smiled complacently; "and if you young shentlemens should be vat you call 'ard oop,' I could lend you some moneys. But don't talk so loud," he added cautiously, casting a glance at a group of Greek sailors who were gabbling away near them, and scanning Tom and Charley curiously, "I don't like de look of dose fellows dere, and dey might hear us talk if dey leesten, and vill remembers."

"What of that?" asked Charley; "I don't suppose they would understand us."

"Aha, so you tink," said Mohammed warily. "But dose Grecs are ver knowing and oop to every ting. Dey are bad, ver bad, every one."

As he spoke two of the Greeks separated themselves from the group, and came over to where they were sitting, as if sent for the purpose.

"I understand," said one, who acted as spokesman, and addressed them in the most perfect English, "that your captain is in want of hands?"

The question was pertinent enough, as more than half the crew were laid up in the Beyrout hospital, or lazaretto, with a sort of malarial fever, and the _Muscadine_ was only waiting for their recovery, or until enough hands could be s.h.i.+pped, to enable her to pursue her voyage to her next port, Smyrna, where she was to complete her cargo, and then sail for England.

The boys of course knew this well enough, but they did not see it was any business of the Greeks, and after Mohammed's hint as to their character they resented the inquiry as a piece of impudence.

"How do you know which is our s.h.i.+p?" said Charley, in Irish fas.h.i.+on asking another question, in lieu of answering the one addressed to him; "and if you do, whether she wants hands or not?"

He spoke rather uncivilly, but the man replied to him with studied politeness.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said he, "but the _Muscadine_ is the only English s.h.i.+p in the harbour, and any one who has travelled like myself could easily tell the nationality of yourself and your friend. I am aware, also, that several of your crew are laid up in hospital."

"And supposing such is the case," said Tom Aldridge, taking up the cudgels, "what then?"

"Only, sir," replied the man, even more obsequiously than before, "I and several others here, who are in want of a s.h.i.+p, would be glad to sign articles with you."

"The others you mention are Greeks like yourself, I suppose?" inquired Tom, still brusquely, as if he did not care whether he offended his interlocutor or not.

"Yes, sir," said the man, "but my countrymen are generally reckoned to make good sailors, and s.h.i.+p in all sorts of vessels to all parts of the world."

"That may be," answered Tom, who hardly knew what to say, "but it is no concern of mine. You had better speak to Captain Harding about the matter; we can't engage you."

"No?" said the man with a half sneer, half smile on his face, and he seemed about to say something nasty; but he altered his mind before he uttered the words, and completed his sentence with another civil inquiry, at which neither Tom nor Charley could take offence. "And, where can I and my friends see the captain, sir?"

"On board, any time before ten in the morning or after sunset in the evening," said Tom curtly.

He didn't like the man, but he was at a loss how he could put him off in any other way.

"Thank you, sir, I'm deeply obliged for your condescension," said the Greek, who then regained his comrades, and the group presently walked out of the khan.

"Bismillah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mohammed as soon as the Greeks had disappeared.

"Can I believe my eyes? That scoundrel has got the impudence of Sheitan, and must be in league with the spirits of Eblis."

"Who is he? do you know him?" eagerly asked Tom and Charley almost in one breath of the Turk, who exhibited all the appearance of stupefied astonishment.

"Mashallah! do I know him?" gasped out Mohammed, his emotion nearly choking him. "Allah is great and Mohammed is his prophet--do I know him?" he repeated, taking a long draw at his chibouque as if to calm his nerves, while he lay back for a moment motionless amid his cus.h.i.+ons.

"Well, who on earth is he, Mohammed?" demanded Tom abruptly--"that is, unless the a--medicine--has got into your head."

While the Greek had been talking to Charley in the first instance, it may be mentioned that Tom had dexterously transferred the bottle of brandy to the keeping of the Turk, who had secreted it behind his back, after turning half aside and pouring out a pretty good dose into his coffee-cup, all with the most rapid legerdemain as if he were a practical conjuror.

"Effendi," said Mohammed with dignity, "you insult me by such a remark.

The sight of that man--that Grec, that villainous piratt, quite overwhelmed me."

"Pirate!" said Charley, for Tom was too much abashed by the Turk's rebuke to speak.

"Yes, piratt," repeated Mohammed firmly. "That would-be simple Grec sailor, as he represented himself to you, was no one else than Demetri Pedrovanto, better known in the Aegean Sea, as 'The Corsair of Chios.'

There's a price of ten thousand piastres on his head. Mashallah! How he dares show himself in Beyrout, amongst the enemy he has plundered, I know not. However, kismet! 'tis his fate, I suppose."

"Are you sure?" asked Charley, who was inclined to think that Mohammed was cramming them.

"Effendi, throw dirt on my beard if I lie. It is Demetri Pedrovanto, sure enough."

"But I never heard of pirates being about in these waters, with so many French and English cruisers going backwards and forwards in the neighbourhood," observed Tom.

"Aha, you Inglese and Frenchmans don't know everyting!" said the Turk laconically, after emitting another volume of smoke, which he had been apparently acc.u.mulating all the time he had been speaking previously.

"There are alway piratts in dese seas, and always will be, as long as Grecs are Grecs!"

"Ah, you say that because you are a Turk," said Charley chaffingly.

"No, no, no," replied Mohammed, shaking his head vehemently. "I'm not one great bigot because I have been born under the crescent. I am cosmopolitaine. You ask your consul, or ze Americans, dey will tell you the same. All dose Grecs are piratts, and dem as isn't piratts are brigands, tiefs, every one."

"Well, you've got a very good opinion of them at any rate," said Tom.

"I wonder what the beggar spoke to us for, eh? If he is the man you say, I don't suppose he would have the cheek to go on board the _Muscadine_."

"No, I should think not," agreed Charley; "and if he does, the skipper will soon overhaul his papers, and then find him out."

"Aha, ah!" grunted out Mohammed. "De Grec is one ver clevaire rogue, and would sheet Sheitan himself."

"Who is he?" asked Charley innocently. "I heard you mention him before."

"De Debble!" answered the Turk, so gravely that both the young fellows burst out into such paroxysms of laughter that Mohammed thought they were ridiculing him, and they had much difficulty in a.s.suring him to the contrary. Indeed, it was not until late in the evening, after they had dinner of kebabs and coffee and their host had imbibed several cups of his "med-i-seen," that he grew friendly again; and then, he was so cordial that he wept over them at their departure, and a.s.sured them that he loved them as his own children, as his brothers, as his father, nay, even as his great-grandfather, who had borne the standard of the prophet in the annual pilgrimage to Mecca!

When Tom and Charley got on board the _Muscadine_, they saw only the second officer, Mr Tompkins, who after telling them that they were very late, and that the captain had turned in long since, said they might go below; which of course, as the s.h.i.+p was in harbour and only an anchor watch kept, when their services were not required, they were extremely grateful for, and turned in accordingly, without giving a thought to their rencontre at the khan.

The next morning, however, when they came on deck they saw three or four Greek sailors lounging about the foc's'le, and Mohammed's warning recurred to there with startling significance.

"Who are those men?" asked Charley of Mr Tompkins, who was in command of the vessel for the time being, Captain Harding, the skipper, having gone ash.o.r.e, and the chief mate being invalided with those of the crew who were in the lazaretto.

"Some new hands the captain s.h.i.+pped last night," answered he; "and if you've any more business ash.o.r.e, Master Onslow, you'd better look sharp about it, as we're going to sail as soon as we've obtained pratique, which will be about four bells, I reckon."

"But, does Cap'en Harding know about them?" asked Tom, sinking his objection to having any conversation with the second officer in the urgency of the occasion.

"You mind your own business, you young dog," said Tompkins, glad to have the opportunity of snubbing Tom. "I suppose you would like to command this s.h.i.+p, but you sha'n't while I'm on board."

"You cad!" muttered Tom under his breath, as he walked away forward to look at the men more closely. "I wish I had you on land for a quiet half hour, and I'd soon take the starch out of you!"