An exchange of gossip persuaded Ahamed to seek the little Moorish seaport of Saint Cruz, or Agadir, and try to dispose of them to the best advantage. Four months after the wreck of the _Oswego_, Captain Judah Paddock beheld a harbor and ships riding at anchor. The governor of Agadir, a portly, courteous Moor, commanded Ahamed to take his captives to Mogador without delay and deliver them up to the British consul. To Captain Paddock he declared: “These Arabs are a set of thieves, robbers, and murderers, and from time immemorial they have been at war with the Moors and with all others within their reach. If there is any more trouble, I will keep you here a few days, when I shall be going myself to Mogador.” The warlike Ahamed was somewhat abashed by this reception, but he made great haste to obey the governor’s decree. Mounted on camels, the party crossed the mountain trails, and then halted to consider breaking back into the desert with the captives and seeking a more auspicious market for them. Ahamed regretted that he had not sold them before he foolishly strayed into the clutches of the accursed Moorish governor of Agadir. More than likely there would be no ransom forthcoming at Mogador. In the nick of time another Moorish gentleman strolled into the little walled mountain town where they tarried for the night, and demanded to know what was going on. To him Ahamed sourly vouchsafed: “These be Christians whom God in His goodness cast upon our coast. We bought them on the edge of the great desert from a tribe which had taken them from the wreck. We had intended to carry them on to Mogador, but to-day we have heard that the consul has no money to buy Christians with.” The Moor suggested that Captain Paddock dictate a letter to the British consul at Mogador, naming a ransom price of four hundred dollars each, which message could be sent on ahead of Ahamed, who might then await a reply before venturing into the city. The messenger galloped away on a spirited steed, but, alas! he soon came galloping back, having met a friend on the road who read the letter and swore that it would not do at all. Captain Paddock was in the depths of despair when the friendly Moor came to the rescue with another plan. The American captain should be his own messenger into Mogador, with Ahamed and an escort to guard against escape, while the other sailors were held in the mountains as hostages. This idea was favorably received, and after a wearisome journey Captain Judah Paddock rode into Mogador to find the British consul. When he entered the flat-roofed stone building above which flew the red cross of St. George, six or eight hearty-looking English sailors rushed forward to welcome him as a shipwrecked seamen. They were survivors of the _Martin Hall_, “and when I told them that three of their crew were with my party,” relates Captain Paddock, “their joy was loud and boisterous. One lusty son of Neptune ran to the consul’s door, shouting: