These words appeared to make little impression on the silent companion of the captain of the _Sybarite_, who contented himself with saying, with a shrug of the shoulders: “The wild boar to his lair!” “Sardanapalus! speaking of wild boars, how I would like to have those that figured in the epic feasts of Trimalcyon, my patron!” cried the unmannerly boor, without appearing to take offence at the contempt of his guest. “Those were worthy wild boars, that they served whole with caps on their heads, and insides stuffed with puddings and sausages imitating the entrails, or perhaps enclosing winged thrushes that would fly up to the ceiling. Those are luxuries I shall realise some day or other. Sardanapalus! I have worked twenty years just to give myself some day a feast worthy of Roman antiquity!” The negro dwarf opened the door. The pirate then thought only of the tumult which had so suddenly ceased. “Ah, well, rascal, what about that noise? Why did not Mello come? Was it, then, nothing?” “No, my lord, a Christian quarrelled with an Albanian slave.” “And then?” “The Albanian stabbed the Christian.” “And then?” “The Christians cried ‘Death to the Albanian,’ but the Christian who was wounded knocked the Albanian down and almost killed him.” “And then?” “Then the Albanians and the Moors, in their turn, roared against the Christians.” “And then?” “To prevent the crew killing each other, and to satisfy everybody, patron Mello blew the wounded Christian’s and the wounded Albanian’s brains out.” “And then?” “My lord, seeing that, everybody became quiet.” “And the musicians?” “My lord, I spoke to them about the blacksmith’s bellows, and before I had finished my sentence, they blew so hard on their trumpets and shells, I became almost deaf. I was about to forget, my lord, that Mello signalled the long-boat of Seigneur Erebus, who is coming now to the galley.” Pog started. Trimalcyon cried, “Quick, Swan-skin, Orangine, a cover for the most beautiful youth who ever captured poor merchant ships.” CHAPTER XXVI. POG AND EREBUS Before continuing this narrative, some explanation is necessary concerning Erebus and Seigneur Pog, the silent and sarcastic man. In the year 1612, twenty years before the period of which we write, a Frenchman, still young, arrived at Tripoli, with one servant. The captain of the vessel which brought him to Tripoli had frequent opportunity to observe that his passenger was very expert in matters pertaining to navigation; he concluded finally that the traveller was an officer on the vessels and galleys of the king, and he was not mistaken. Seigneur Pog--we continue to give him this assumed name--was an excellent sailor, as we shall soon see. Upon his arrival at Tripoli, Pog, after having, according to the custom of Barbary, bought the protection of Bey Hassan, hired a house in the suburbs of the city, not far from the sea. He lived there during one year with his valet in profound solitude.