第76章

ISRAEL IN PRISON

Short as the time was--some three months and odd days--since the prison at Shawan had been emptied by order of the warrant which Israel had sealed without authority in the name of Ben Aboo, it was now occupied by other prisoners.The remoteness of the town in the territory of the Akhmas, and the wild fanaticism of the Shawanis, had made the old fortress a favourite place of banishment to such Kaids of other provinces as looked for heavier ransoms from the relatives of victims, because the locality of their imprisonment was unknown or the danger of approaching it was terrible.

And thus it happened that some fifty or more men and boys from near and far were already living in the dungeon from which Israel and Ali together had set the other prisoners free.

This was the prison to which Israel was taken when he was torn from Naomi and the simple home that he had made for himself near Semsa."Ya Allah!

Let the dog eat the crust which he thought too hard for his pups!"said Ben Aboo, as he sealed the warrant which consigned Israel to the Kaid of Shawan.

Israel was taken to the prison afoot, and reached it on the morning of the second day after his arrest.The sun was shining as he approached the rude old block of masonry and entered the passage that led down to the dungeon.In a little court at the door of the place the Kaid el habs, the jailer, was sitting on a mattress, which served him for chair by day and bed by night.He was amusing himself with a ginbri, playing loud and low according as the tumult was great or little which came from the other side of a barred and knotted doorway behind him, some four feet high, and having a round peephole in the upper part of it.On the wall above hung leather thongs, and a long Reefian flintlock stood in the corner.

At Israel's approach there were some facetious comments between the jailer and the guard.Why the ginbri? Was he practising for the fires of Jehinnum? Was he to fiddle for the Jinoon? Well, what was a man to do while the dogs inside were snarling? Were the thongs for the correction of persons lacking understanding? Why, yes;everybody knew their old saying, "A hint to the wise, a blow to the fool."A bunch of great keys rattled, the low doorway was thrown open, Israel stooped and went in, the door closed behind him, the footsteps of the guard died away, and the twang of the ginbri began again.

The prison was dark and noisome, some sixty feet long by half as many broad, supported by arches resting on rotten pillars, lighted only by narrow clefts at either hand, exuding damp from its walls, dropping moisture from its roof, its air full of vermin, and its floor reeking of filth.And only less horrible than the prison itself was the condition of the prisoners.Nearly all wore iron fetters on their legs, and some were shackled to the pillars.At one side a little group of them--they were Shereefs from Wazzan--were conversing eagerly and gesticulating wildly; and at the other side a larger company--they were Jews from Fez--were languidly twisting palmetto leaves into the shape of baskets.Four Berbers at the farther end were playing cards, and two Arabs that were chained to a column near the door squatted on the ground with a battered old draughtboard between them.From both groups of players came loud shouts and laughter and a running fire of expostulation and of indignant and sarcastic comment.Down went the cards with triumphant bangs, and the moves of the "dogs" were like lightning.

First a mocking voice: "_You_ call yourself a player!

There!--there!--there!" Then a meek, piping tone: "So--so--verily, you are my master.Well, let us praise Allah for your wisdom."But soon a wild burst of irony: "You are like him who killed the dog and fell into the river.See! thus I teach you to boast over your betters! I shave your beard! There!--there!--and there!"In the middle of the reeking floor, so placed that the thin shaft of light from the clefts at the ends might fall on them--a barber-doctor was bleeding a youth from a vein in the arm."We're all having it done,"he was saying."It's good for the internals.I did it to a shipload of pilgrims once." A wild-looking creature sat in a corner--he was a saint, a madman, of the sect of the Darkaoa--rocking himself to and fro, and crying "Allah! All-lah! All-l-lah! All-l-l-lah!"Near to this person a haggard old man of the Grega sect was shaking and dancing at his prayers.And not far from either a Mukaddam, a high-priest of the Aissa, brotherhood--a juggler who had travelled through the country with a lion by a halter--was singing a frantic mockery of a Christian hymn to a tune that he had heard on the coast.

Such was the scene of Israel's imprisonment, and such were the companions that were to share it.There had been a moment's pause in the clamour of their babel as the door opened and Israel entered.The prisoners knew him, and they were aghast.Every eye looked up and every mouth was agape.Israel stood for a time with the closed door behind him.He looked around, made a step forward, hesitated, seemed to peer vainly through the darkness for bed or mattress, and then sat down helplessly by a pillar on the ground.

A young negro in a coarse jellab went up to him and offered a bit of bread."Hungry, brother? No?" said the youth."Cheer up, Sidi!

No good letting the donkey ride on your head!"This person was the Irishman of the company--a happy, reckless, facetious dog, who had lost little save his liberty and cared nothing for his life, but laughed and cheated and joked and made doggerel songs on every disaster that befell them.He made one song on himself--El Arby was a black man They called him "'Larby Kosk:"He loved the wives of the Kasbah, And stole slippers in the Mosque.

Israel was stunned.Since his arrest he had scarcely spoken.