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it was something new to them; but when, by means of a little water, he revived, Sidi Hamet appeared to be affected at the treatment he had received.
On the 17th, still travelling along the sea shore, on the sloping bank which rose from the sandy beach, they observed the black tops of high mountains in the distant horizon towards the east, and shortly after reached a well where some men were watering about forty horses and camels. Here they crossed a small river, the water of which was clear as crystal, and full of fish; on its banks grew a few bushes resembling dwarf alders and rushes: near this place also was found a plant with a stem from three to twelve inches in diameter, the branches spreading like an umbrella to the diameter of fifteen or twenty feet; they were very tender, and, on being broken off, a glutinous liquid resembling milk dropped from them; it had a disagreeable smell when burning, and was very nauseous to the taste: we suppose it was either a species of aloe or euphorbium. On this day they met with the first signs of cultivation, and at night enjoyed the luxury of sleeping on a heap of straw. To us, who for so long a time had been obliged to repose our wearied limbs and wasted frames on the hard baked bosom of the Desert, or the dead sides of the barren sand drifts, this solitary heap of fresh straw seemed softer and sweeter than a bed of down strewn over with the most odoriferous flowers.'
On the 19th they passed a few rough stone huts, and a stream of clear water purling over a pebbly bottom;' its banks were covered with green bushes and shrubs in full blossom: beyond this were cows, asses, and sheep feeding, and date trees adorning and shading the margin of the rivulet-so sudden and unexpected a change threw them into raptures. Excess of joy had so far overpowered our faculties, that it was with difficulty we reached the water's edge, but, urging forward to the brink with headlong steps, and fearlessly plunging in our mouths, like thirsty camels, we swallowed down large draughts until satiated nature bade us stop.' Riley says, the place is called by the Arabs el Wod Noon. His orthography is bad, but sufficiently correct to let us know where he is. Here Sidi Hamet treated them with some honey, which they devoured, comb and young bees all together; ' our hearts swelling with gratitude to God, and tears of joy trickling down our fleshless cheeks.'
This place appeared to be a great thoroughfare, and several armed parties on horseback passed on towards the Desert. They now proceeded to the northward, parallel with, and occasionally upon, the sea beach; and speedily reached a cultivated country, in which were several walled villages, surrounded with gardens and other inclosures. As they approached the Moorish dominions, Seid, the brother, who had all along been suspicious of Riley's story
VOL. XVI. NO. XXXII.
about his acquaintance at Mogadore, and had often wished to sell Horace and Mr. Savage, whom he claimed as his slaves, was now determined to go no farther, and laid hold of the two unfortunate Christians, in order to carry them back to the first horde he should fall in with, and sell them for what they would fetch; Sidi's wrath was kindled at his brother's obstinacy
He leaped from his camel, and darting like lightning up to Seid, laid hold of him, and disengaged Mr. Savage and Horace from his grasp. They clenched each other like tions, and with fury in their looks, each strove to throw the other on the ground. Seid was the largest and the stoutest man; they writhed and twisted in every shape until both fell, but Sidi Hamet was the undermost: fire seemed to flash from their eyes, whilst they twisted around each other like a couple of serpents, until at length Sidi Hamet, by superior activity or skill, disengaged himself from his brother's grasp, and both sprang up on their feet: instantly they snatched their muskets, at the same moment, and each retiring a few paces, with great rapidity and indignation, tore the cloth covers from their guns, and presented them at each other's breast with dreadful fury: they were not more than ten yards asunder, and both must have fallen dead had they fired.'
Sidi Hamet, however, fired his musket in the air, and walking up to Seid said, Now I am unarmed-fire! Your brother's head is ready to receive your balls: glut your vengeance on your benefactor! A violent dispute ensued, in which the brutal Seid, seizing Horace by the breast, dashed him to the ground, where he lay for some time senseless. At length matters were adjusted, and they proceeded to a village to pass the night. Here Sidi Hamet told them he should depart for Mogadore, leaving them in the custody of Seid and another Arab of the name of Bo-Mohammed-and that Riley must write a letter to his friend at Suara, desiring him to pay the money for the ransom of himself and people, when they should be free; ' if not,' said he,' you must die for having deceived me, and your men shall be sold for what they will bring:' he added, 'I have fought for you, have suffered hunger, thirst, and fatigue, for I believe that God is with you-I have paid away all my money on your word alone.' A scrap of paper, a reed, and some black liquor was then brought to Riley, who wrote briefly the circumstances of the loss of the ship, his captivity, &c. adding,' worn down to the bone by the most dreadful of all sufferings-naked, and a slave-I implore your pity, and trust that such distress will not be suffered to plead in vain.' The letter was addressed' to the English, French, Spanish, or American Consuls, or any Christian Merchants in Mogadore.' The anxiety of the captives may well be imagined. For seven days after Sidi Hamet's departure, they were shut up in a yard during the day, where cows, sheep, and asses rested; and locked up at night in a dreary cellar.
On the evening of the eighth day, a Moor came into the inclosure, and brought them a letter. I felt,' says Riley, as if my heart was forcing its way up into my throat, and it entirely obstructed my breath-I broke it open; but my emotions were such, that it was impossible for me to read its contents, and I handed it to Mr. Savage; for my frame trembled to such a degree, that I could not stand, and I sunk to the earth.' The letter was from William Willshire, the English consul;' it told them that he had agreed to the demands of Sidi Hamet, whom he kept as an hostage for their safe appearance; that the bearer, Rais BelCossim, would conduct them to Mogadore. This Bel-Cossim was the very man who purchased Adams at Wed-noon. He also sent them various kinds of provisions, cloaks, and shoes. Thus accoutred and fortified, they set out under their new conductor, with another person who had joined them, of the name of Scheik Ali, an Arab of a tribe near the north border of the Great Desert, one of whose daughters Sidi Hamet had married. They passed a ruined city, before the breached walls of which was still standing a sort of battering ram. It had been sacked, and the ground was strewed with human bones, bleached in the sun. They also passed several small sanctuaries surmounted with domes, and a tolerably well cultivated country abounding with cattle.
On the 30th October they crossed the wod-Schlem or river Sellem, and the town Sehlemah. On their arrival at a walled city called Stuka, which might contain about five thousand souls, Scheik Ali procured from the chief, Muley Ibrahim, an order for their detention, under pretence that they were the slaves of Sidi Hamet his son-in-law, who was indebted to him in a large sum of money; and it was not before the 4th November that they were able to procure their release. At Santa Cruz, as usual, they were pelted with stones by the rabble, and saluted with every abusive epithet that could be thought of. This was not the worst; for here again Scheik Ali persuaded the governor to seize the slaves of Sidi Hamet for a supposed debt, which he was only prevented from doing by the unceasing activity of the Rais Bel-Cossim, who detected what was passing, and got them out of the town at an early hour in the morning: after a fatiguing and perilous journey they came in sight of Mogadore, where English colours were floating in the harbour, and the American flag in the city. At this blessed and transporting sight,' exclaims Riley, the little blood remaining in my veins, gushed through my glowing heart with wild impetuosity, and seemed to pour a flood of new life through every part of my exhausted frame.' They were presently met by Mr. Willshire, whose kind reception and commiseration for their sufferings does honour to human nature. He took each man by the hand, wel
comed them to life and liberty, while tears trickled down his manly cheeks, and the sudden rush of all the generous and sympathetic feelings of his heart nearly choked his utterance.' Mr. Riley describes the meeting as so affecting, that Rais Bel-Cossim wept and hid himself behind a wall, that none might witness so degrading and womanish a weakness in a Moor.
Mr. Willshire conducted them to his house, had them alb cleansed, clothed, and fed, and spared no pains nor expense in procuring every comfort, and in administering with his own hands, night and day, such refreshment as their late severe sufferings and debility required. A fact is mentioned which describes better than a whole volume could do the miserable condition to which these unfortunate men were reduced. At the instance of Mr. Willshire,' Riley says, 'I was weighed, and fell short of ninety pounds, though my usual weight, for the last ten years, had been over two hundred and forty pounds: the weight of my companions was less than I dare to mention, for I apprehend it would not be believed, that the bodies of men, retaining the vital spark, should not weigh forty pounds!"
The miserable condition to which those unfortunate beings, who fall into the hands of the inhuman Arabs, are reduced, calls to our recollection the observation made by Mr. Dupuis, in a note on Adams's statement of the brutal treatment which he had experienced at Wed-noon; that the general effect on the minds of Christian captives was most deplorable; that on their first arrival at Mogadore, they appeared lost to reason and feeling, and all their faculties sunk in a species of stupor-indifferent to every thing around them-abject, servile, and brutified.'-Riley thus describes his own situation.
My mind, which (though my body was worn down to a skeleton) had been hitherto strong, and supported me through all my trials, distresses, and sufferings, and enabled me to encourage and keep up the spirits of my frequently despairing fellow sufferers, could no longer sustain me my sudden change of situation seemed to have relaxed the very springs of my soul, and all my faculties fell into the wildest confusion. The unbounded kindness, the goodness, and whole attention of Mr. Willshire, who made use of all the soothing language of which the most affectionate brother or friend is capable, tended but to ferment the tempest that was gathering in my brain. I became delirious-was bereft of my senses-and for the space of three days, knew not where I was. When my reason returned, I found I had been constantly attended by Mr Willshire, and generally kept in my room, though he would sometimes persuade me to walk in the gallery with him, and used every means in his power to restore and compose my bewildered senses that I had remained continually bathed in tears and shuddering at the sight of every human being, fearing I should again be carried into slavery. I had slunk into the darkest corner of my room;
but, though insensible, I seemed to know the worth of my friend and deliverer, and would agree to, and comply with, his advice and directions.' (p. 301.)
The reflections to which the horrors of his late sufferings and slavery and his providential escape from them gave rise, kept him almost constantly bathed in tears, for the greater part of a month.
When I had retired to rest and sleep had closed my eyes, my mind, still retaining the strong impression of my past sufferings, made them the subjects of my dreams. I used to rise in my sleep, and think I was driving camels up and down the sand hills near the Desert, or along the craggy steeps of Morocco; obeying my master's orders in putting on the fetters, or beckets, on the legs and knees of his camels, and in the midst of my agonizing toils and heart-sickening anxieties, while groping about my room, I would hit my head against something, which would startle and awaken me: then I would throw myself on my bed again to sleep, and dream and act over similar scenes.' (p. 310.)
The addition which Mr. Riley has afforded to our information, respecting the geography and natural history of the Great Desert of Africa, amounts to very little, and that little, not very accurate. We ought not to be surprized, as Riley observes, that one weighed down with weariness and despair, suffering under the most excruciating bodily pains and the most cruel privations, should sometimes mistake one route for another or have erred in the computation of distances, in travelling over a vast, smooth, and trackless desert:—but, we cannot avoid wondering that a seaman,' and, as his American friends call him, a man of intelligence,' should uniformly, throughout the whole of his book, mistake the west for east, and the south for north; or, in other words, that, in his whole journey towards Mogadore, he should carry us, in his book, towards Abyssinia. In his dates too he is equally careless, travelling the same day twice over, (p. 181) and mistaking the month, (p. 286) and travelling, and remaining still, on the same day and in the same page, (p. 132.)—what is perhaps still more extraordinary, we have dates in abundance while naked and deprived of all means of keeping a journal, but not a single one from the time the travellers reach the habitations of men,' where materials could so easily be had to enable them to register events. The mistakes we allude to are not owing to any lapse of his memory, which he tells us, indeed, is naturally a retentive one, but to oversights which ought to have been avoided, as they very materially affect the fidelity of the narrative, and the accuracy of his observations..
The Great Desert of Africa is a barren subject: but in a geological point of view, the extent and grandeur of its barrenness render it interesting. Riley's account of it, as far as he saw,