Egypt -- History -- Mohammed Ali, 1805-1849 -- Fiction; Muhammad Ali Basha, Governor of Egypt, 1769-1849 -- Fiction
What he had exultingly shouted to the waves, took place; he got
safely over, found the nets in good condition, drew them ashore, and
waited on the rock until the storm had somewhat subsided. Really it
seemed that Sitta Khadra was right: his agathodaemon watched over
him, for, sooner than usual, the tempest calmed down, and the sun
broke forth from behind the clouds. It was now a comparatively easy
matter for Mohammed to get back to the opposite shore where Omar was
awaiting him with several of his comrades. The fisherman's face was
angry and lowering. It annoyed him that he had not waited for the
storm to go down, instead of making the bargain with Mohammed, for
he must now keep his word and pay the boy what he had earned. This
day his rich catch of fish gave Omar no pleasure. His face grew
darker and darker, while the men were opening the nets and counting
the fish. It was well that the shrewd boy had caused Omar to repeat
his promise before a witness, and before so highly esteemed a wit
ness, for the fisherman would have otherwise refused, in all
probability, to share the harvest of his nets with Mohammed.
He was now compelled to yield to the decision of the fishermen, who
declared that the half of the fish caught were worth at least four
ducats. The boy's eyes sparkled with delight as Omar reluctantly and
hesitatingly drew the money from his long leather purse and handed
it to him.
"It will bring you no blessing!" growled the fisherman. "You are a
greedy, headstrong boy; you deprive the father of a family of half
his hard earnings. The ghins will pay you back for what you have
swindled me out of."
"I have swindled you out of nothing. I risked my life for four
ducats, have earned them honestly, and it does not become you to
abuse me for it before these people.--Speak yourselves, you men, am
I right?"
"Certainly you are right," they cried with one voice.
"No; no one can abuse you for receiving your well-earned wages,"
said Mr. Lion, beckoning to the boy to follow him.
"You must be exhausted--come with me to my home. You shall dine with
me and drink a glass of wine. Your clothes are thoroughly drenched;
you shall dry them at the fire."
Mohammed laughed. "Wet I am, to be sure, but the fire that burns in
my veins will soon dry the stuff. I will, however, gladly eat a
little and drink a glass of wine with you. It was a hard fight with
the sea-monsters, they seemed to roar in my ears, 'We will have you,
we will pull you down!' And yet it sounded sweetly! There is no
finer music than when, the sea-monsters come up from the deep and
sing their wild songs."
"You are a strange being," said Mr. Lion, regarding him lovingly. "I
rejoice in you, and, if it were not that people would say of me that
I wished to convert a Mussulman to my religion, I would gladly adopt
you as my son. Tell me, if I should leave this place, would you go
with me to the land of the Franks, accept my religion, and become
the heir of my fortune?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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