In the mean time the Arabs, who live two short miles from the shore, came down in crowds to plunder the vessel. One of the boats was thrown ashore, and they had belonging to them some others; there was one yet with the wreck, which scarcely appeared with its gunnel above water. All the people were now taken on shore, and those only lost who perished in the boat. What first wakened me from this semblance of death was a blow with the butt-end of a lance, shod with iron, upon the juncture of the neck with the back-bone. This produced a violent sensation of pain; but it was a mere accident the blow was not with the point, for the small, short waistcoat, which had been made at Algiers, the sash and drawers, all in the Turkish fashion, made the Arabs believe that I was a Turk; and after many blows, kicks, and curses, they stript me of the little cloathing I had, and left me naked. They used the rest in the same manner, then went to their boats to look for the bodies of those that were drowned. After the discipline I had received, I had walked, or crawled up among some white, sandy hillocks, where I sat down and concealed myself as much as possible. The weather was then warm, but the evening promised to be cooler, and it was fast drawing on; there was great danger to be apprehended if I approached the tents where the women were while I was naked, for in this case it was very probable I would receive another bastinado something worse than the first. Still I was so confused that I had not recollected I could speak to them in their own language, and it now only came into my mind, that by the gibberish, in imitation of Turkish, which the Arab had uttered to me while he was beating and stripping me, he took me for a Turk, and to this in all probability the ill-usage was owing. An old man and a number of young Arabs came up to me where I was sitting. I gave them the salute _Salam Alicum!_ which was only returned by one young man, in a tone as if he wondered at my impudence. The old man then asked me, Whether I was a Turk, and what I had to do there? I replied, I was no Turk, but a poor Christian physician, a Dervish that went about the world seeking to do good for God’s sake, was then flying from famine, and going to Greece to get bread. He then asked me if I was a Cretan? I said, I had never been in Crete, but came from Tunis, and was returning to that town, having lost every thing I had in the shipwreck of that vessel. I said this in so despairing a tone, that there was no doubt left with the Arab that the fact was true. A ragged, dirty baracan was immediately thrown over me, and I was ordered up to a tent, in the end of which stood a long spear thrust through it, a mark of sovereignty.