Spice and the Devil's Cave by Agnes Danforth Hewes Page A

peculiar expression that had come into his eyes.
    â€œThen, in a minute,” Scander resumed, “I knew what kind of an outfit I’d shipped with, and why they’d all laughed when I’d come aboard so innocent: only one kind of crews has ‘appointments’ with merchant ships, and that’s pirate crews!
    â€œWell, a gale was blowing up, but I took the helm, and we began the run for Tripoli, all the way through head winds and heavy seas. We were so close to shore, you couldn’t tell which yelled louder, the storm or the reefs. Sometimes, what with a black sky hissing above us, and the water like foaming jaws that couldn’t wait to lap us down, I used to wonder if we’d make it.”
    â€œI used to pray Allah that we wouldn’t!” the Girl said under her breath.
    The sailor’s face softened. “I expect so … I expect so,” he murmured, while Ruth silently drew her nearer.
    â€œYou see,” he told the room in a low aside, “Arab women of rank are brought up not to go out unless they’re veiled. This girl had probably never been in the streets at all. And there she was, set down, all of a sudden, in the roughest gang I ever saw – not to mention what she’d suffered in the slave markets. I could tell from her face the hell she was going through, and sometimes I ‘most wished she’d die. So, all those shrieking hours, that my hands were around the tiller head, there wasn’t a minute that they weren’t ready for the business end of – this!” Scander tapped the knife handle in his belt. “I’d pretty well made up my mind that seeing her dead was better than – than – Anyhow, I kept my knife ready.
    â€œWell, it cleared, and when we reached Tripoli, the expected merchantman hadn’t arrived. Right away, the captain and this chap, Abdul – first mate he was-held council, and I hung around to listen. They were considering offering the girl to the Bey of Tripoli. It was the captain who made the proposition. Slaiman, they called him.
    â€œThey talked all around the subject, and finally Abdul says, ‘Let’s wait till we get to Tunis. We might get better terms there.’ But at the next port”– Scander’s eyes narrowed –” it was the same thing over. The same thing over/’ he repeated. “And then I knew what was up: each man was blocking the other to get the girl for himself. From that minute, I lived with just two things in my mind: to get her away from that hell-ship, and to keep my knife sharp.
    â€œI used to manage to be in the same place, just at sunset, fiddling with the rigging or something or other, but ‘twas always at the same time, in the same spot, right opposite her cage, and –”
    Puzzled voices stopped him: “Cage?” “How do you mean – cage?”
    For an instant the Girl’s downcast eyes were raised, and between her and Nicolo shot a swift glance.
    â€œShe’d have thrown herself overboard. It didn’t take half an eye to see that. So, first thing, they’d built her a cage of spare timbers they had in the hold, and they kept her in it day times. Well, one sunset, I caught her looking at me; next evening, same thing. Then I knew she understood that – that –”
    â€œThat I needn’t be afraid!” The Girl’s eyes, shy and tender, were raised to his.
    He, in turn, for a moment, looked at her, and under his deep tan they saw him slowly redden. Then his head went up, and he plunged on.
    â€œWell, finally, something happened. One day the lookout called a merchantman bearing to the west. Everybody was excited, and crowded forward. The captain ordered all sail made and the grappling irons got ready. I knew that my chance to save – or to kill – her was coming. I pressed up to her and whispered – speaking Arabic, of course – that when I opened her cage, to follow