Mohammed Ali and His House [130]
feared that my poor body would not be able to bear the fatigues of the service. I am weary and exhausted, and my weak arm falls to my side when I attempt to raise the sword. I beg that your excellency will graciously permit me to return home with the ship to Cavalla, after the soldiers shall have been disembarked. I also entreat of your excellency that my boulouk bashi be made captain in my stead."
The capitan pacha turned and looked at young Mohammed Ali. Perhaps his tall, well-knit frame, and his earnest countenance, with its sparkling eyes, and his determined bearing, impressed him favorably.
"Bim bashi, we will see what can be done. It will depend chiefly on the events of this day, and I will observe your boulouk bashi closely. If he proves capable of doing well what I shall require of him, I give you my word he shall be made bim bashi, and you shall then be permitted to return to your home. I will, however, first observe your boulouk bashi, and see of what stuff he is made.--I have orders for you, boulouk bashi. But first tell me your name."
"I am called Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim Aga," replied Mohammed, inclining his head with an expression of such profound reverence that the proud capitan pacha was well pleased, and smiled graciously.
"Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim Aga, step aside with me; I have something to say to you."
The pacha walked to the end of the deck, motioning to the two slaves who accompanied him to withdraw; he then turned to Mohammed, who stood before him, his head bowed down in humility; his ear all attention to the words spoken by the pacha, in low, impressive tones.
Important words, of great and dangerous import, must they have been, that fell slowly one after the other, like drops of blood from the pacha's lips, for, from time to time, a deathly pallor overspread Mohammed Ali's cheeks, and a slight shudder coursed through his whole being. The pacha looked at him keenly, and said in a low voice, "One can see that you are a novice."
"Yes, a novice," replied Mohammed, "but I shall soon become accustomed to blood, and cease to recoil from dead bodies."
"Then you will achieve success in Egypt," said the pacha. "The air here is freighted with the scent of corpses, and the sea and the Nile have often been reddened with blood. We will see, boulouk bashi, if the waves at our feet are not once more made red with blood, and not with the rays of the setting sun. And now, boulouk bashi, it will be shown whether you have understood what I have said, and whether you are the man to execute my orders."
"I am your servant, excellency," replied Mohammed, quietly. "The soldier has no will of his own. I am an instrument in your hands, and I will faithfully carry out your orders."
"Then you will awaken to-morrow as bim bashi. And I believe that will only be the first step toward the fame that awaits you. I like you, boulouk bashi, and I wish you a brilliant career. And when you shall have reached the summit of renown, then remember, boulouk bashi, that it was I who gave you the key to the gates of honor. Remember the day and the hour, for I have read a great future in your countenance."
He then inclined his head to Mohammed Ali, and returned to where Osman was standing, leaning against a mast, in utter exhaustion.
The pacha also spoke a few kindly words to him, and afterward entered his boat to return to the shore of Aboukir. Mohammed then walked up to his friend, took him in his arms like a child, and carried him down into his cabin. He laid him on the divan, knelt down beside him, and whispered in his ear: "Osman, no matter what you may see or hear, do not leave your cabin to-day. Stay here, my friend, and do not be anxious; if you hear a tumultuous noise, and outcries, do not be alarmed, even if death-groans should resound from the deck. The world is a hard thing, and he whose hands are not of iron should hold himself aloof from its rude contact. You, my Osman, are too good to play an active role in this miserable earthly existence; and I am, therefore, almost glad that you are
The capitan pacha turned and looked at young Mohammed Ali. Perhaps his tall, well-knit frame, and his earnest countenance, with its sparkling eyes, and his determined bearing, impressed him favorably.
"Bim bashi, we will see what can be done. It will depend chiefly on the events of this day, and I will observe your boulouk bashi closely. If he proves capable of doing well what I shall require of him, I give you my word he shall be made bim bashi, and you shall then be permitted to return to your home. I will, however, first observe your boulouk bashi, and see of what stuff he is made.--I have orders for you, boulouk bashi. But first tell me your name."
"I am called Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim Aga," replied Mohammed, inclining his head with an expression of such profound reverence that the proud capitan pacha was well pleased, and smiled graciously.
"Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim Aga, step aside with me; I have something to say to you."
The pacha walked to the end of the deck, motioning to the two slaves who accompanied him to withdraw; he then turned to Mohammed, who stood before him, his head bowed down in humility; his ear all attention to the words spoken by the pacha, in low, impressive tones.
Important words, of great and dangerous import, must they have been, that fell slowly one after the other, like drops of blood from the pacha's lips, for, from time to time, a deathly pallor overspread Mohammed Ali's cheeks, and a slight shudder coursed through his whole being. The pacha looked at him keenly, and said in a low voice, "One can see that you are a novice."
"Yes, a novice," replied Mohammed, "but I shall soon become accustomed to blood, and cease to recoil from dead bodies."
"Then you will achieve success in Egypt," said the pacha. "The air here is freighted with the scent of corpses, and the sea and the Nile have often been reddened with blood. We will see, boulouk bashi, if the waves at our feet are not once more made red with blood, and not with the rays of the setting sun. And now, boulouk bashi, it will be shown whether you have understood what I have said, and whether you are the man to execute my orders."
"I am your servant, excellency," replied Mohammed, quietly. "The soldier has no will of his own. I am an instrument in your hands, and I will faithfully carry out your orders."
"Then you will awaken to-morrow as bim bashi. And I believe that will only be the first step toward the fame that awaits you. I like you, boulouk bashi, and I wish you a brilliant career. And when you shall have reached the summit of renown, then remember, boulouk bashi, that it was I who gave you the key to the gates of honor. Remember the day and the hour, for I have read a great future in your countenance."
He then inclined his head to Mohammed Ali, and returned to where Osman was standing, leaning against a mast, in utter exhaustion.
The pacha also spoke a few kindly words to him, and afterward entered his boat to return to the shore of Aboukir. Mohammed then walked up to his friend, took him in his arms like a child, and carried him down into his cabin. He laid him on the divan, knelt down beside him, and whispered in his ear: "Osman, no matter what you may see or hear, do not leave your cabin to-day. Stay here, my friend, and do not be anxious; if you hear a tumultuous noise, and outcries, do not be alarmed, even if death-groans should resound from the deck. The world is a hard thing, and he whose hands are not of iron should hold himself aloof from its rude contact. You, my Osman, are too good to play an active role in this miserable earthly existence; and I am, therefore, almost glad that you are