The Middy and the Moors: An Algerine StoryBallantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael)
General
The Middy and the Moors: An Algerine Story
Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael)
Adventure stories; Algeria -- Fiction
It was arranged that the two girls should carry baskets of fruit on
their heads, and that Hester should have the biscuits conveniently in
her right hand, so as to be able to drop them into her father's lap
without stopping or even checking her pace as they passed.
Of course, Hester was by this time thoroughly alive to the danger of her
intended proceedings, both to herself and her father, and was firmly
resolved to restrain her feelings. Nevertheless, she could not help
trembling when she came in sight of the gang, with which her father
worked.
Sally observed this and grasped her by the arm.
"Geo'giana," she said, "if you gibs way, or speaks, or trembles, or
busts up in any way, I grips you by de neck, as I once did before, an'
shobes you along wid scolds and whacks--so you look out!"
"Anxiety for my darling father will be a much more powerful restraint,
Sally, than your threats," replied the poor girl.
Nevertheless, the threat was not without its effect, for it showed
Hester that she must have been on the point of giving way, and impressed
on her more than ever the necessity of self-restraint.
"W'ich am him? I don't see him," said the negress as they advanced.
"There he is, don't you see, just before us," replied Hester, in a low,
hurried voice.
"No, I's growin' blind, I t'ink."
"There--look! by himself, on the stone. He seems always to sit on the
same spot at dinner-time."
"Oh yes, I sees. Now you go on--stiddy. Mind what you's about!"
With a brief prayer for help to control herself, Hester went straight to
where her father sat. He was languidly chewing a piece of the
regulation black bread at the time, and looked up at her with the vacant
indifference born of despair.
The desire to fall on his neck and kiss him was, need we say, almost
irresistible, but the poor girl had received strength for the duty in
hand. She went close to him--even brushed past him--and dropped the
biscuits into his lap.
At first the poor man was so astonished that he gazed after the retiring
figure and made no effort to conceal this unexpected addition to his
meal. Fortunately, his wits revived before any of the guards observed
him. He slid the biscuits into his shirt bosom with conjurer-like
facility, and at the same moment broke off a large bit of one, which he
devoured with unwonted satisfaction. The addition did not indeed
furnish the unfortunate slave with a full meal, but it at least tended
towards that desirable end, and sent him to work with a full heart,
because of the assurance that there was in the city, at all events, one
human being--and that being, strange to say, a negress!--who pitied him
in his forlorn condition.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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