Part 19 (1/2)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
TELLS OF RIOT AND REVOLUTION IN THE PIRATE CITY.
At the first sound of tumult, Achmet--who was seated at the time on his accustomed throne of judgment, ready to transact the ordinary business of the morning--sprang up and roused his pet lion to a sudden and towering pitch of fury by thrusting the point of his dagger into it.
The result was that when the door burst open the huge creature sprang into the midst of the insurgents with a tremendous roar.
A volley of b.a.l.l.s laid it low for ever, but the incident diverted attention for a moment from the Dey, and afforded him time to escape from the audience-chamber. Darting up a staircase, he gained the palace-roof, from which he sprang to a neighbouring roof and descended hastily to the street, throwing off some of his brilliant apparel as he ran, and s.n.a.t.c.hing up a common burnous in which he enveloped himself.
Every avenue to the palace had been carefully secured by Sidi Hamet, but it chanced that the one which Achmet selected was guarded by a young soldier, towards whom at some previous time he had shown acts of kindness.
On seeing the Dey hastening towards him the soldier lowered his musket, but appeared undecided how to act. Achmet, at once taking advantage of his hesitation, went boldly up to him, and reminding him of what he had formerly done for him, attempted to bribe him with a magnificent diamond ring; but the soldier refused the ring. Placing his left hand on his eyes he said hurriedly--
”Your servant can neither hear nor see.”
The Dey at once took the hint and pa.s.sed on, but the delay proved fatal, for a band of Janissaries who were traversing the narrow streets in search of him came suddenly round a corner. Achmet instantly turned back and fled, hotly pursued by the yelling soldiers. They were quickly joined by others, and ere long a surging crowd followed the footsteps of the fugitive as he darted from one to another of the intricate streets.
The Dey was a cool and courageous as well as an active man, and for some time eluded his pursuers, whose very eagerness to take his life caused them to thwart each other by getting jammed in several of the narrow pa.s.sages.
At last Achmet gained the entrance to the palace of his wives. The door was already shut and secured, as well as guarded by two of the insurgent janissaries. Rendered desperate and savage by the hopelessness of his case, he cleft the skulls of these men with his sword, and was about to dash himself violently against the strong door, in the vain hope of bursting it open, when he was checked by hearing an appalling shriek inside. Next moment the door was flung wide open, and his faithful wife Ashweesha appeared with a dripping dagger in her hand.
No word was uttered, because none was needed. The Dey leaped in and shut the door violently, just as his infuriated pursuers gained it, while Ashweesha, with cool precision, shot in the heavy bolts, and let down the ponderous bars.
Achmet sank exhausted on one of the couches of the vestibule, regardless of the din which was made by the mob outside in their vain endeavours to batter down the strong oaken door.
”Do not give way,” said Ashweesha, falling on her knees beside him, and resting his head tenderly on her shoulder, ”there are many who love you in the city. Escape over the terraces to the house of Jacob the Jew.
He has many hiding-places, and will a.s.suredly aid you.”
”I will try, for _your_ sake, Ashweesha,” said Achmet, starting up; ”I have little hope, it is true, for my enemies are too strong for me, but it were cowardly to fail for want of an effort. Allah bless thee, my wife!”
He kissed her, and immediately made for the staircase that led to the terrace.
Gaining the roof, he looked over the parapet, and the first glance was enough to convince him that he must bid adieu to hope. The palace was completely surrounded by the insurgents, who set up a fierce shout on observing him, and fired a volley of b.a.l.l.s from many directions, all of which, however, pa.s.sed harmlessly over his head.
”Thou seest, Ashweesha,” he said, with a sad smile, as the Sultana followed him to the terrace, ”my time has come. It is fate. Allah has willed it so--there is therefore no possibility of averting it.”
”Say not so,” cried Ashweesha earnestly; ”the terrace of Jacob is easily gained; once there you can descend to some of the back streets where no one looks for you.”
”I will make the attempt,” said the Dey, sternly casting his eyes over the city.
It was a sight that might well lull him with sad thoughts, for the roofs or terraces everywhere were covered with affrighted women--the houses of the Jews being especially distinguishable by the frantic manner in which the Jewesses wrung their hands, and otherwise displayed their grief and alarm.
A plank thrown from the parapet of his palace to that of the nearest house enabled Achmet to escape from those of his enemies who had gained an entrance below, but it was only a momentary respite; while they were searching for another plank to enable them to follow him, he attempted to cross over to the house of the Jew above mentioned. He was at once observed, on the frail bridge that supported him, and a shout of anger rose from the populace like a hoa.r.s.e roar.
During the whole time in which the Dey was thus endeavouring to escape, his proud spirit fought against him, urging him to turn and dare his foes to do their worst. At the moment when their roar burst upon his ear, all desire to escape seemed to vanish. He stopped suddenly, drew himself up with his wonted look of dignified composure, and from his perilous and elevated position looked down almost reproachfully on those who had been wont to bow at his footstool.
The act was followed by another roar. A hundred muskets belched forth their deadly fire, and Achmet Dey fell headlong into the street.
The shattered body was instantly seized by the soldiers, and the head, severed from the trunk, was carried off to the palace, there to be presented as a trophy to Sidi Hamet, the new Dey of Algiers.
So soon as the green standard of the Prophet was run up on the flag-staff of the palace, announcing that a new ruler had seated himself on the throne, the period of recognised anarchy came to an end, and order began to be in some measure restored. Still, most of the wealthy inhabitants kept in close retirement, having, of course, hidden away most of their valuables and cash. The Jews, especially, were very chary of showing themselves in public, and those of them who had fled for refuge to the British consulate remained quiet, and were hospitably entertained for several days.