Escapes! (20 page)

Riley panted in the shade of the tent — gratefully out of the midday sun. At his side lay Clark, barely conscious. Their masters had left early in the morning on their camels. The women had allowed the five slaves to rest near the tents in the meantime.

A month had passed since their capture, yet to Riley it seemed like years. He scanned the flat landscape that stretched in every direction. It's like the sea, he thought, like a smooth sea, when there's no wind. But the idea gave him no comfort.

His eyes grew heavy, but a movement on the horizon made him blink and open them wider. Two strangers on camels were approaching across the sand. As they came closer, Riley could see that their camels were loaded with goods and muskets that shone like silver in the sun. The riders stopped before the tent of Riley's master and, making their camels lie down, dismounted. Then they sat on the ground without a word, looking the other way.

The women of the family leapt up and began to rig an awning for the strangers. To Riley's surprise, his master's wife turned and approached him. Slowly, she spoke to him for the first time. Riley followed her words and gestures closely, piecing together her meaning.

“Sidi Hamet,” she said, pointing to one of the strangers, “and his brother are cloth merchants from the Sultan's lands.” She paused, then added in a low voice, “Perhaps he could buy you and take you there, where you might find your friends and kiss your wife and children.” Then she walked away.

Riley's heart beat faster. He scanned the horizon again — no sign yet of his master. He snatched up a wooden bowl and ventured to the strangers' tent. Crouching down under their awning, Riley held up the bowl and showed his parched mouth to them. The man called Sidi Hamet asked him a question, and Riley recognized the word for “captain.”

Riley nodded eagerly, “Yes, I am the captain.”

Gathering heaps of sand in his hands, Riley made a coast on the ground. Then he drew the shape of a boat, adding a stick for a mast. With words and signs he prayed would capture the merchant's sympathy, Riley told the story of their shipwreck.

“I have a wife and five children back home... besides Horace, my son,” he added, remembering his promise to the boy's mother. Hamet stared at him as he spoke, then turned his face away suddenly. Was he moved? How much had he understood? Riley wasn't sure.

Hamet motioned to his brother to give Riley some water, but the brother sullenly shook his head. Hamet signaled to Riley to hold up his bowl, and he poured it himself.

Clear, perfectly clear water streamed into the bowl. It was the first fresh water Riley had seen since they left the boat, and for a moment he was afraid he would faint. He drank half and then, gesturing toward Clark, asked to take the rest to him. Hamet nodded.

As Riley propped Clark up to drink, his shipmate's sunken eyes began to shine. Clark was mere skin and bones now, and Riley knew he would have to work fast.

The noise of approaching camels made Riley look up. Their masters were back. So soon! Riley felt sick with disappointment. His chance had slipped away — he did not dare approach the merchants again now. He'd have to watch for a chance to speak to them alone. In the meantime, his mind began to form a plan.

For days Riley shadowed the merchants as closely as he dared, terrified to take his eyes off them. They could be up and away at any moment.

Hamet feels sorry for us, he thought. I need to show him that helping us is worth his while! If he thinks there's money in it — a lot of money — he might buy us and carry us off the Sahara. If only I could get him alone! But Riley's master and his sons were never far away, and they glared ferociously at him whenever he lingered near the visitors.

Standing near the camels, Riley watched as his masters retreated from the afternoon heat into their tent. The two merchants moved back toward their own awning, Hamet trailing a little behind his brother.

This was his chance! Riley stumbled across the hot sand and fell to his knees before the merchant. With gestures and the few Arabic words he had practiced, he got his message across: “Carry me to the Sultan of Morocco, and my friend there will redeem me.”

Riley's face fell as Hamet shook his head. The merchant stepped away, then paused.

“But,” he said, turning back, “how much will you give me if I take you to Mogadore?” Riley had never heard of the place. With hand signs Hamet described it as a walled town and a seaport.

A seaport! Riley's heart raced. He made a pile of fifty stones. “That many dollars for myself and each of my men,” he said, pointing.

Again, Hamet shook his head, waving his arm in the direction of the crew. “Not the others,” he said. He jabbed a finger at the stones, then at Riley. “But how much more than that will you give me, if I buy
you?
”

Riley frantically counted out fifty more stones and added them to the first pile. “My friend will pay you as soon as you bring me to Mogadore,” he said. His heart pounded as he watched Hamet's stony expression.

A moment passed in silence. At last Hamet nodded, pointing to Riley. “I will buy
you
then,” he said. “But remember, if you deceive me...” He made a cutting motion across his throat.

Riley swallowed and nodded.

“Say nothing to your master,” Hamet added as he turned to leave, “nor to my brother.”

In the days that followed, Riley shadowed Hamet, begging him to buy just one more of the men — perhaps his son, Horace?

“The ransom for all of us together would be even more,” he promised.

But Hamet shook his head. “Impossible to get you all across the desert — robbers will attack us for our slaves, and my brother and I cannot fight them off.”

Then Hamet pointed at Clark's wasted body. “He will not live more than three days. If I buy him, I'll lose my money!”

“I swear I will pay for him,” said Riley, lowering his voice, “whether he lives or dies.”

The merchants inspected the sailors from head to toe — parting their hair with sticks, frowning at their burned skin and blisters. They prodded their bones to see if they were in place.

Hamet's brother stood back and shook his head in disgust. “You will make a big mistake, my brother, to buy any more of them.”

But one evening Hamet told Riley they would all leave at dawn. “I have used up all my goods buying the whole crew. My brother tried to talk me out of it,” Hamet said. “He doesn't believe you have any rich friend who will pay for you.” Riley looked down.

“You had better not deceive me,” Hamet added, his tone menacing.

At first light they set off across the blowing sand. Savage muttered at Riley's side, voicing all the doubts Riley had ignored until now. “How do we know they're taking us where they say? And how on earth do you expect to pay them? There might not be an English consul — or any consul at all — at this seaport.”

Riley stared ahead.

“And if there is,” Savage went on, “you've promised too much! Who's going to lend you that much money? We're poor sailors, not rich men. Who pays a ransom for a poor man?” Riley was silent. Everything Savage said was true. He was taking a desperate gamble. And he remembered the penalty if he couldn't pay — his life.

The five sailors stumbled forward under the fierce sun. Like sleepwalkers they followed the merchants' swaying camels across endless stretches of sand. Riley had no idea how his wasted legs were able to keep moving, unless it was the new hope — a very slim one — that lay on the other side of the Sahara.

It took a moment for Riley's groggy mind to recognize the signs. Beneath his stumbling feet he saw something green. Something ragged and parched, but growing. Plants — they were near the edge of the desert! Then came the sound of distant voices, and small huts on the horizon.

As they made camp that night, Hamet took Riley aside. “I will set out in the morning for Mogadore,” he said, “where I hope to arrive in three days. If your friend will pay the money for you and your men, you shall be free.”

He stared hard at Riley. “If not, you must die for having deceived me, and your men shall be sold for what they will bring. I have suffered hunger and thirst to restore you to your family, for I believe God is with you. I have paid away all my money on your word alone.”

“Take me with you,” Riley begged. Hamet shook his head.

“My brother will guard you while I'm gone,” he said firmly.

Riley looked down, but his new master beckoned to him. “Come, Riley. Write a letter.” He held out a scrap of paper, smaller than Riley's hand. Riley took it, and Hamet gave him a little bit of black liquid and a reed.

Riley dipped the reed in the ink and held it for a moment over the shred of paper. All at once he saw how truly hopeless his scheme was. He had no “friend” in Mogadore, no idea if there was any consul there. Who would read his note? And if anyone did, why would they hand over so much money because of a scrap of paper from a stranger — a slave?

He glanced up and saw Sidi Hamet watching him. Taking a deep breath, he carefully began to write.

Sir,

The brig Commerce was wrecked on the 28 of August last.
Myself and four of my crew are here nearly naked in slavery. I conjure
you by all the ties that bind man to man... and by as much
as liberty is dearer than life, to advance the money required for our
redemption, which is nine hundred and twenty dollars. I can draw
for any amount the moment I am at liberty...

Should you not relieve me, my life must instantly pay the forfeit.

Worn down to the bones — naked and a slave, I implore your
pity...

James Riley, late Master of the brig Commerce

Riley folded the paper and paused. Who would he send it to? He dipped the reed in the little liquid that remained and scratched desperately,

To the English, French, Spanish or American consul, or any
merchant in Mogadore

He silently handed the paper to Sidi Hamet and watched his master turn and walk away. He had done all he could. Now his life was in someone else's hands.