The women, who had fastened a piece of linen across their faces, ran about and waited on the guests, who included three or four of the principal men of the village, as well as the stranger, who, as Arthur observed, was not of the uniform brown of the rest, but had some colour in his cheeks, light eyes, and a ruddy beard, and also was of a larger frame than these Moors, who, though graceful, lithe, and exceedingly stately and dignified, hardly reached above young Hope’s own shoulder.  Conversation was going on all the time, and Arthur soon perceived that he was the subject of it.  As soon as the meal was over, the new-comer addressed him, to his great joy, in French.  It was the worst French imaginable—­perhaps more correctly lingua Franca, with a French instead of an Arabic foundation, but it was more comprehensible than that of the Moorish sailor, and bore some relation to a civilised language; besides which there was something indescribably familiar in the tone of voice, although Arthur’s good French often missed of being comprehended.

‘Son of a great man?  Ambassador, French!’ The greatness seemed impressed, but whether ambassador was understood was another thing, though it was accepted as relating to the boy.

‘Secretary to the Ambassador’ seemed to be an equal problem.  The man shook his head, but he took in better the story of the wreck, though, like the sailor, he shook his head over the chance of there being any survivors, and utterly negatived the idea of joining them.  The great point that Arthur tried to convey was that there would be a very considerable ransom if the child could be conveyed to Algiers, and he endeavoured to persuade the stranger, who was evidently a sort of travelling merchant, and, as he began to suspect, a renegade, to convey them thither; but he only got shakes of the head as answers, and something to the effect that they were a good deal out of the Dey’s reach in those parts, together with what he feared was an intimation that they were altogether in the power of Sheyk Abou Ben Zegri.

They were interrupted by a servant of the merchant, who came to bring him some message as well as a pipe and tobacco.  The pipe was carried by a negro boy, at sight of whom Ulysse gave a cry of ecstasy, ’Juba!  Juba!  Grandmother’s Juba!  Why do not you speak to me?’ as the little black, no bigger than Ulysse himself, grinned with all his white teeth, quite uncomprehending.

‘Ah! my poor laddie,’ exclaimed Arthur in his native tongue, which he often used with the boy, ’it is only another negro.  You are far enough from home.’

The words had an astonishing effect on the merchant.  He turned round with the exclamation, ‘Ye’ll be frae Scotland!’

‘And so are you!’ cried Arthur, holding out his hand.

‘Tak tent, tak tent,’ said the merchant hastily, yet with a certain hesitation, as though speaking a long unfamiliar tongue.  ’The loons might jalouse our being overfriendly thegither.’