Mathias Sandorf

In those days the railroad did not run from Tunis to the Moorish frontier; and to reach Tetuan as quickly as possible they had to embark in one of the swiftest boats of the Antekirtta flotilla.

Before midnight “Electric No. 2” had been got ready for sea, and was on her way across the Syrtic Sea.

On board were the doctor, Pierre, Luigi, Point Pescade, and Cape Matifou. Pierre was known to Sarcany, the others were not. When they reached Tetuan they would consult as to their proceedings. Would it be better to act by stratagem or force? That would depend on Sarcany’s position in this absolutely Moorish town, or his arrangements in Namir’s house, and on the following he could command. Before everything, they must get to Tetuan!

From the end of the Syrtes to the Moorish frontier as about 2,000 kilometers—nearly 1,350 nautical miles. At full-speed “Electric No. 2” could do her twenty-seven miles an hour. How many railway trains there are that are not as fast! That long steel tube, offering no resistance to the wind, could slip through the waves without hinderance, and reach its destination in fifty hours.

Before daybreak the next morning the “Electric” had doubled Cape Bon. Then, having crossed the Gulf of Tunis, it only took her a few hours to lose sight of Point Bizerte, La Calle, Bone, the Iron Cape, whose metallic mass is said to disturb the compasses, the Algerian coast, Stora, Bougie, Dellys, Algiers, Cherchell, Mostaganem, Oran, Nemons; then the shores of Riff, the Point of Mellelah, which, like Ceuta, is Spanish, Cape Tres Forcas, whence the continent rounds off to Cape Negro—all this panorama of the African coast line was unrolled during the 20th and 21st of November without either incident or accident. Never had the machine worked by the currents from the accumulators had such a run. If the “Electric” had been perceived either along the shore or crossing the gulfs from cape to cape, there would have been telegrams as to the appearance of a phenomenal ship, or perhaps a cetacean of extraordinary power that no steamer had yet exceeded in speed in the Mediterranean waters.

About eight o’clock in the evening the doctor, Pierre, Luigi, Point Pescade, and Cape Matifou landed at the mouth of the small river of Tetuan, in which their rapid vessel had dropped anchor. A hundred yards from the bank, in the middle of a small caravansary, they found mules and a guide to take them into the town, which was about four miles distant. The price asked was agreed to instantly, and the party set off.

In this part of the Riff Europeans have nothing to fear from the indigenous population, nor even from the nomads of the district. The country is thinly peopled and almost uncultivated. The road lies across a plain dotted with straggling shrubs, and it is a road made by the feet of the beasts rather than by the hand of man. On one side is the river, with muddy banks, alive with the croak of frogs and the chirp of crickets, and bearing a few fishing-boats moored in the center or drawn up on the shore. On the other side, to the right, is the outline of the bare hills, running off to join the mountain masses of the south.

The night was magnificent. The moon bathed the country in its light. Reflected by the mirror of the river the moonlight seemed to soften the heights on the northern horizon. In the distance, white and gleaming, lay the town of Tetuan—a shining patch in the dark clouds of mist beyond!

The Arab did not waste much time on the road. Twice or thrice he had to pull up before isolated houses, where the windows on the side, not lighted by the moon, threw a yellow beam out into the shadow, and from them would come two or three Moors with a lantern, who, after a hurried conference with the guide, would let them pass.

Neither the doctor nor his companions spoke a word. Absorbed in their thoughts, they left the mules to follow the road which here and there was cut through by gullies strewed with bowlders or cumbered with roots which they avoided with sure feet. The largest of the mules, was, however, very often in the rear. This might have been expected, for it bore Cape Matifou.

It was that that led Point Pescade to reflect—

“Perhaps it would have been better for Cape Matifou to carry the mule, instead of the mule carrying Cape Matifou!”

About half past nine the Arab stopped before a large blank wall, surmounted by towers and battlements, which on that side defends the town. In this wall was a low door, decorated with arabesques in Moorish fashion. Above, through the numerous entrances, pointed the throats of the cannons, looking like crocodiles carelessly sleeping in the light of the moon.

The gate was shut. Some conversation was needed, with cash in hand, before it could be opened. Then the party passed in down the winding, narrow and open vaulted streets, with other gates, barred with iron, which were successfully opened by similar means. At length the doctor and his companions, in a quarter of an hour, reached an inn or “fonda”—the only one in the place—kept by a Jewess, with a one-eyed girl as servant.

The total want of comfort in this fonda, which had the rooms disposed round the central court, was a sufficient explanation as to why strangers so very seldom venture into Tetuan. There is even only one representative of the European power, the Spanish Consul, among a population of several thousands, with whom the native element predominates.

Although Dr. Antekirtt wished exceedingly to ask for Namir’s house, and to be taken there at once, he restrained himself. It was necessary to act with great prudence. To carry Sava away under such circumstances was a serious matter. Everything for and against it had been taken into consideration. Perhaps they might be able to get the girl set free for a consideration. But the doctor and Pierre would have to keep themselves out of sight—more especially from Sarcany, who might perhaps be in Tetuan. In his hands Sava would become a guarantee for the future that he would not easily part with. Here they were not in one of the civilized countries of Europe, where justice and police could easily interfere. In this country of slaves how could they prove that Sava was not Namir’s legitimate slave? How could they prove that she was Count Sandorf’s daughter, otherwise than by Mme. Toronthal’s letter and the banker’s confession? The house in these Arab towns are carefully guarded and not easily accessible. They are not entered easily. The intervention of a cadi might even be useless, even if it could be obtained.

It had been decided that at the outset, but in a way to prevent suspicion, Namir’s house should be carefully watched. In the morning Point Pescade would go out with Luigi to pick up information. During his stay in Malta, Luigi had learned a little Arabic, and the two would start to find out in what street Namir lived, and then to act accordingly.

Meanwhile “Electric No. 2” would be concealed in one of the narrow creeks along the coast near the entrance of the Tetuan River, and kept ready for sea at a moment’s notice. The night, whose hours were so long for the doctor and Pierre, was thus passed in the fonda. If Point Pescade and Cape Matifou had any desire to lie on beds incrusted with crockery ware, they were satisfied.

In the morning Luigi and Point Pescade began by visiting the bazaar, in which there had already gathered a large part of the Tetuan population. Pescade knew Namir, whom he had a score of times noticed in the streets of Ragusa while she was acting as spy for Sarcany. He would therefore recognize her, and, as she did not know him, there was no reason why he should not meet her. And then he could follow her.

The principal bazaar of Tetuan is a collection of sheds, penthouses, and hovels, low, narrow, and sordid, arranged in humid lanes. A few cloths of different colors are stretched on lines and protect it from the heat of the sun. Around are dull-looking shops with bordered silk, gorgeous trimmings, slippers, purses, cloaks, pottery, jewels, collars, bracelets, rings, and other common good such as are found in the shops of the large towns of Europe.

It was already crowded. The people were taking advantage of the coolness of the morning. Moors veiled to the eyes, Jewesses with uncovered faces, Arabs, Kabyles, moved to and from the bazaar, elbowed by a certain number of strangers so that the presence of Luigi Ferrato and Point Pescade did not attract special attention.

For an hour they traversed the motley crowd in search of Namir. In vain! The Moor did not appear, nor did Sarcany.

Luigi then asked one of the half-naked boys—hybrid products of all the African races from the Riff to the Sahara—who swarm in the bazaars of Morocco.

The first he spoke to made no reply. At last one of them, a Kabyle, about twelve years old, said that he knew the house, and offered to take the Europeans there—for a trifle.

The offer was accepted, and the three started through the tangled streets which radiate toward the fortifications. In ten minutes they had reached a part that was almost deserted, in which the houses were few and far between and had no windows on their outer sides.

During this time the doctor and Pierre were waiting the return of Luigi and Pescade with feverish impatience. Twenty times were they tempted to go out and look for themselves. But they were both known to Sarcany and the Moor. It would perhaps be risking everything to meet them and give them an alarm which might enable them to escape. So they remained a prey to the keenest anxiety. It was nine o’clock when Luigi and Point Pescade returned to the fonda.

Their mournful faces told that they were the bearers of bad news.

In fact, Sarcany and Namir, accompanied by a girl whom nobody knew, had left Tetuan five weeks before, and the house was now in charge of an old woman.

The doctor and Peirre had not expected this; they were in despair.

“Their departure is easily accounted for!” said Luigi. “Sarcany was evidently afraid that Toronthal, for revenge or some other motive, would reveal the place of his retreat.”

While he was only in pursuit of his betrayers the doctor never despaired of success. But now it was his daughter that he sought to rescue from Sarcany, he did not feel the same confidence.

However, Pierre agreed with him that they had better go at once to Namir’s house. Perhaps they might find some trace or remembrance of Sava. Perhaps the old Jewess who had been left in charge might give, or rather sell, some hint that might prove useful.

Luigi led them there immediately. The doctor, who spoke Arabic as if he had been born in the desert, introduced himself as a friend of Sarcany’s. He was passing Tetuan, he said, and would have been glad to see him.

The old woman at first raised difficulties, but a handful of sequins made her much more obliging; and she willingly answered the questions the doctor asked with the appearance of the most lively interest in her master.

The young lady who had been taken away by the Moor was Sarcany’s intended wife. That had been arrranged for some time, and probably the marriage would have taken place at Tetuan, had it not been for the hurried departure. The young lady, since her arrival three months before, had not been outside the house. They said she was an Arab but the Jewess thought she was a European. She had seen her very little and only during the Moor’s absence, and she could not find out any more about her.

The old woman could not say where Sarcany had taken them. All she knew was that they went away about five weeks before with a caravan to the eastward, and that since then the house had been in her care, and was to continue so until Sarcany found some one to buy it, which showed that he did not intend returning to Tetuan.

The doctor listened coldly to these replies, and as they passed to Pierre translated them.

From them it appeared that Sarcany had not thought it desirable to embark on one of the steamers calling at at Tangiers, nor to go by the railway which has its terminus at Oran. He had joined a caravan that had left Tetuan—bound whether? To some oasis in the desert, or still further, to some half-savage country, where Sava would be entirely at his mercy? How could they know? On the roads of Northern Africa it is as difficult to recover the track of a caravan as the track of an individual.

And so the doctor continued to interrogate the Jewess. He had received important news which was of interest to Sarcany, he said, and it referred to this very house which he wished to dispose of. But do what he could, no other information could be got. It was evident that the woman did not know where Sarcany had fled to bring about the close of the drama.

The doctor, Pierre, and Luigi then asked to be allowed to see the house, which was built in Arab fashion, with different rooms lighted from a court-yard surrounded by a rectangular gallery.

They soon reached the room that Sava had occupied. It was quite a prison cell. There what hours the unhappy girl must have passed a prey to despair, and without hope of help! The doctor and Pierre looked around the room seeking the least indication that might put them on the track.

Suddenly the doctor stepped up to a small brasero which stood on a tripod m a corner of the room. In this brasero were a few fragments of paper that had been destroyed by fire, but the incineration of which had not been completed.

Had Sava written them? And surprised by the hurried departure had she burned the letter before she left Tetuan? Or rather—and that was possible—had the letter been found on Sava and destroyed by Sarcany or Namir?

Pierre had watched the doctor’s look as he bent over the brasero. What had he found?

On the fragments of paper that a breath would reduce to dust a few words stood out in black—among others these, unfortunately incomplete:

“Mad— Bath—”

Had Sava attempted to write to her as the only person in the world to whom she could appeal for help, not knowing and not being able to know that she had disappeared from Ragusa?

Then after Mme. Bathory’s name another could be deciphered—that of her son.

Pierre held his breath and tried to find some other word still legible! But his look was troubled. He could see no more.

But there was one word that might perhaps put them on the girl’s track—a word which the doctor found almost intact.

“Tripoli!” he exclaimed.

Was it in the Regency of Tripoli, his native country where he might be absolutely safe, that Sarcany had sought refuge? Was it thither that the caravan was bound!

“To Tripoli!” said the doctor.

That evening they were again at sea. If Sarcany had already reached the capital of the Regency they were in hopes that they would be only a few days behind him.

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