Coming to Alger about midday, we were greatly surprised to find that the sail chartered by Don Sanchez was no longer in the port, and the reason of this we presently learnt was that the Dey, having information of a descent being about to be made upon the town by the British fleet at Tangier, he had commanded, the night before, all alien ships to be gone from the port by daybreak.  This put us to a quake, for in view of this descent not one single Algerine would venture to put to sea for all the money Mr. Godwin could offer or promise.  So here we were forced to stay in trepidation and doubt as to how we, being English, might fare if the town should be bombarded as we expected, and never did we wish our own countrymen further.  Only our Moll and her husband did seem careless in their happiness; for so they might die in each other’s arms, I do think they would have faced death with a smile upon their faces.

However, a week passing, and no sign of any English flag upon the seas, the public apprehension subsided; and now we began very seriously to compass our return to Elche, our trader’s passes (that is, Dawson’s and mine) being run out within a week, and we knowing full well that we should not get them renewed after this late menace of an English attack upon the town.  So, one after the other, we tried every captain in the port, but all to no purpose.  And one of these did openly tell me the Dey had forbidden any stranger to be carried out of the town, on pain of having his vessel confiscated and being bastinadoed to his last endurance.

“And so,” says he, lifting his voice, “if you offered me all the gold in the world, I would not carry you a furlong hence.”  But at the same time, turning his back on a janizary who stood hard by, he gave me a most significant wink and a little beck, as if I were to follow him presently.

And this I did as soon as the janizary was gone, following him at a distance through the town and out into the suburbs, at an idle, sauntering gait.  When we had got out beyond the houses, to the side of the river I have mentioned, he sits him down on the bank, and I, coming up, sit down beside him as if for a passing chat.  Then he, having glanced to the right and left, to make sure we were not observed, asks me what we would give to be taken to Elche; and I answered that we would give him his price so we could be conveyed shortly.

“When would you go?” asks he.

“Why,” says I, “our passes expire at sundown after the day of Ramadah, so we must get hence, by hook or by crook, before that.”

“That falls as pat as I would have it,” returns he (but not in these words), “for all the world will be up at the Cassanabah on that day, to the feast the Dey gives to honour his son’s coming of age.  Moreover, the moon by then will not rise before two in the morning.  So all being in our favour, I’m minded to venture on this business.  But you must understand that I dare not take you aboard in the port, where I must make a pretence of going out a-fishing with my three sons, and give the janizaries good assurance that no one else is aboard, that I may not fall into trouble on my return.”