This tranquillity only related to any disturbance experienced from their captors. There was none.

These had been on the eve of striking their tents, and moving off to some other oasis,—previous to the last incident that had arisen.

As already stated, the two sheiks, by a mutual understanding, had been about to shake hands, and separate,—the son of Japhet going north, to the markets of Morocco, while the descendant of Ham was to face homeward to his more tropical and appropriate clime,—under the skies of Timbuctoo.

The "windfall" that had so unexpectedly dropped into the douar; first in the shape of Sailor Bill,—and afterwards, in more generous guise, by the capture of the three "young gentlemen" of the gunroom,—had caused some change in the plans of their captors.

By mutual understanding between the two sheiks, something was to be done in the morning; and their design of separating was deferred to another day.

The order to strike tents had been countermanded: and both tribes retired to rest,—as soon as the captives had been disposed of for the night.

The douar was silent,—so far as the children of Ham and Japhet were concerned. Even their children had ceased to clamor and squall.

At intervals might be heard the neigh of a Barbary horse, the barking of a dog, the bleating of a goat, or a sound yet more appropriate to the scene, the snorting of a maherry.

In addition to these, human voices were heard. But they proceeded from the throats of the sons of Shem. For the most part they were uttered in a low tone, as the three midshipmen conversed seriously and earnestly together; but occasionally they became elevated to a higher pitch, when Sailor Bill, guarded on the opposite side of the encampment—took part in the conversation, and louder speech was necessary to the interchange of thought between him and his fellow-captives.

The Arab watchers offered no interruption. They understood not a word of what was being said, and so long as the conversation of their captives did not disturb the douar, they paid no heed to it.

"What have they done to you, Bill?" was the first question asked by the new comers, after they had been left free to make inquiries.

"Faix!" responded the sailor, for it was Terry who had put the interrogatory: "iverything they cowld think av—iverything to make an old salt as uncomfortable as can be. They've not left a sound bone in my body; nor a spot on my skin that's not ayther pricked or scratched wid thar cruel thorns. My carcass must be like an old seventy-four after comin' out av action—as full av holes as a meal sieve."

"But what did they do to you, Bill?" said Colin, almost literally repeating the interrogatory of Terence.

The sailor detailed his experiences since entering the encampment.

"It's very clear," remarked the young Scotchman, "that we need look for nothing but ill-treatment at the hands of these worse than savages. I suppose they intend making slaves of us."

"That at least," quietly assented Harry.

"Sartin," said the sailor. "They've let me know as much a'ready. There be two captains to their crew; one's the smoke-dried old sinner as brought yer in; the other a big nayger, as black as the ace o' spades. You saw the swab? He's inside the tent here. He's my master. The two came nigh quarrelling about which should have me, and settled it by some sort o' a game they played wi' balls of kaymal's dung. The black won me; an' that's why I'm kep by his tent. Mother av Moses! Only to think of a British tar being the slave o' a sooty nayger! I never thought it wud a come to this."

"Where do you think they'll take us, Bill?"

"The Lord only knows, an' whether we're all bound for the same port."

"What! you think we may be separated?"

"Be ma sang, Maister Colin, I ha'e ma fears we wull!"

"What makes you think so?"

"Why, ye see, as I've telt ye, I'm booked to ship wi' the black,—'sheik' I've heerd them ca' him. Well: from what I ha'e seed and heerd, there's nae doot they're gaein' to separate an' tak different roads. I did na ken muckle o' what they sayed, but I could mak oot two words I hae often heerd while cruisin' in the Gulf o' Guinea. They are the names o' two great toons, a lang way up the kintry,—Timbuctoo and Sockatoo. They are negro toons; an' for that reezun I ha'e a suspeshun my master's bound to one or other o' the two ports."

"But why do you think that we are to be taken elsewhere?" demanded Harry Blount.

"Why, because, Master 'Arry, you belong to the hold sheik, as is plainly a Harab, an' oose port of hentry lies in a different direction,—that be to the northart."

"It is all likely enough," said Colin; "Bill's prognostication is but too probable."

"Why, ye see, Maister Colin, they are only land sharks who ha'e got hold o' us. They're too poor to keep us; an' wull be sure to sell us somewhere, an' to somebody that ha'e got the tocher to gie for us. That's what they'll do wi' us poor bodies."

"I hope," said Terence, "they'll not part us. No doubt slavery will be hard enough to bear under any circumstances; but harder if we have to endure it alone. Together, we might do something to alleviate one another's lot. I hope we shall not be separated!"

To this hope all the others made a sincere response; and the conversation came to an end. They who had been carrying it on, worn out by fatigue, and watchfulness long protracted,—despite the unpleasantness of their situation,—soon after, and simultaneously, yielded their spirits to the soothing oblivion of sleep.