(This post is a continuation of Don Quixote – The Captive’s Tale – Parts 1 through 8. If you haven’t done so already, it’s probably best to read those posts before continuing on here.)
Last week, the captive and his companions finalized their plans for escaping from Algiers and taking Zoraida with them. This week, they put those plans into effect.
On the Friday following the day upon which I spoke to Zoraida in the garden, the renegade anchored his vessel at nightfall almost opposite the spot where she was. The Christians who were to row were ready and in hiding in different places round about, all waiting for me, anxious and elated, and eager to attack the vessel they had before their eyes, for they did not know the renegade’s plan, but expected that they were to gain their liberty by force of arms and by killing the Moors who were on board the vessel.
When I and my comrades made our appearance, all those that were in hiding, seeing us, came out and joined us. It was now the time when the city gates are shut, and there was no one to be seen in all the space outside. When we were collected together, we debated whether it would be better first to go for Zoraida, or to make prisoners of the Moorish rowers who rowed in the vessel.
While we were still uncertain, our renegade came up, asking us what kept us, as it was now the time, and all the Moors were off their guard and most of them asleep. We told him why we hesitated, but he said it was of more importance first to secure the vessel, which could be done with the greatest ease and without any danger, and then we could go for Zoraida.
We all approved of what he said, and, so without further delay, guided by him, we made for the vessel. He leaping on board first, drew his cutlass and said in Morisco, “Let no one stir from this ship if he does not want it to cost him his life.” By this time, almost all the Christians were on board, and the Moors, who were fainthearted, hearing their captain speak in this way, were cowed, and without any one of them taking to his arms (and indeed they had few or hardly any) they submitted without saying a word to be bound by the Christians, who quickly secured them, threatening them that if they raised any kind of outcry they would be all put to the sword.
This having been accomplished, and half of our party being left to keep guard over them, the rest of us, again taking the renegade as our guide, hastened towards Hadji Morato’s garden. As good luck would have it, on trying the gate, it opened as easily as if it had not been locked. Silently, we reached the house without being perceived by anybody. The lovely Zoraida was watching for us at a window, and as soon as she perceived that there were people there, she asked in a low voice if we were “Nizarani,” which was her way of asking if we were Christians. I answered that we were, and begged her to come down.
When she recognized me, she did not delay an instant, but without answering a word came down immediately, opened the door, and presented herself before us all, so beautiful and so richly attired that I cannot attempt to describe her.
The moment I saw her, I took her hand and kissed it, and the renegade and my two comrades did the same. The rest, who knew nothing of the circumstances, did as they saw us do, for it only seemed as if we were returning thanks to her, and recognizing her as the giver of our liberty. The renegade asked her in the Morisco language if her father was in the house. She replied that he was and that he was asleep.
“Then it will be necessary to waken him and take him with us,” said the renegade, “and everything of value in this fair mansion.”
“Nay,” said she, “my father must not on any account be touched, and there is nothing in the house except what I shall take, and that will be quite enough to enrich and satisfy all of you. Wait a little, and you shall see.” So saying, she went in, telling us she would return immediately and bidding us to keep silent.
I asked the renegade what had passed between them, and, when he told me, I declared that nothing should be done except in accordance with the wishes of Zoraida.
She now came back with a trunk so full of gold crowns that she could scarcely carry it.
Unfortunately her father awoke while this was going on and, hearing a noise in the garden, came to the window and at once perceived that all those who were there were Christians. He raised a prodigiously loud outcry and began to call out in Arabic, “Christians, Christians! Thieves! Thieves!”
Upon this, we were all thrown into the greatest fear and embarrassment, but the renegade, seeing the danger we were in and how important it was for him to effect his purpose before we were heard, mounted with the utmost quickness to where Hadji Morato was. With him went some of our party. I, however, did not dare to leave Zoraida, who had fallen almost fainting in my arms.
To be brief, those who had gone upstairs acted so promptly that in an instant they came down, carrying Hadji Morato with his hands bound and a napkin tied over his mouth, which prevented him from uttering a word. They warned him sternly that to attempt to speak would cost him his life. When his daughter caught sight of him, she covered her eyes so as not to see him, and her father was horror-stricken, not knowing how willingly she had placed herself in our hands.
It was now most essential for us to be on the move, and, carefully and quickly, we regained the vessel, where those who had remained on board were waiting for us in apprehension of some mishap having befallen us. It was barely two hours after night set in when we were all on board.
The cords were removed from the hands of Zoraida’s father, and the napkin from his mouth. The renegade once more told him not to utter a word, or they would take his life. When he saw his daughter there, he began to sigh piteously, and still more when he perceived that I held her closely embraced and that she lay quiet without resisting or complaining or showing any reluctance. Nevertheless, he remained silent, lest they should carry into effect the repeated threats the renegade had addressed to him.
Finding herself now on board, and that we were about to give way with the oars, Zoraida, seeing her father there, and the other Moors bound, bade the renegade ask me to do her the favor of releasing the Moors and setting her father at liberty, for she would rather drown herself in the sea than suffer a father that had loved her so dearly to be carried away as a captive before her eyes and on her account.
The renegade repeated this to me, and I replied that I was very willing to do so. He replied, however, that it was not advisable because, if they were left there, they would at once raise the country and stir up the city, which would lead to the dispatch of swift cruisers in pursuit, and to our being taken, by sea or land, without any possibility of escape, and that all that could be done was to set them free on the first Christian ground we reached. On this point we all agreed; and Zoraida, to whom it was explained, together with the reasons that prevented us from doing at once what she desired, was satisfied.
Then, in glad silence and with cheerful alacrity, each of our stout rowers took his oar, and, commending ourselves to God with all our hearts, we began to shape our course for the island of Majorca, the nearest Christian land.
For a further installment of The Captive’s Tale, see the next post in this blog.
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