The Prince of India, vol 1 | Page 3

not a diplomatist or a statesman or a man of business of any
kind. The reflection which occupied him had nothing to do with
intrigues or statecraft; its centre was in his heart as the look proved. So,
in tender moods, a father gazes upon his child, a husband at the beloved
wife, restfully, lovingly.
And that moment the observer, continuing his study, would have
forgotten the parcel, the white slaves, the gigantic negro, the self-willed
hair and beard of pride--the face alone would have held him. The
countenance of the Sphinx has no beauty now; and standing before it,
we feel no stir of the admiration always a certificate that what we are
beholding is charming out of the common lines; yet we are drawn to it
irresistibly, and by a wish vague, foolish--so foolish we would hesitate
long before putting it in words to be heard by our best lover--a wish

that the monster would tell us all about itself. The feeling awakened by
the face of the traveller would have been similar, for it was distinctly
Israelitish, with exaggerated eyes set deeply in cavernous hollows--a
mobile mask, in fact, concealing a life in some way unlike other lives.
Unlike? That was the very attraction. If the man would only speak,
what a tale he could unfold!
But he did not speak. Indeed, he seemed to have regarded speech a
weakness to be fortified against. Putting the pleasant thought aside, he
opened the roll, and with exceeding tenderness of touch brought forth a
sheet of vellum dry to brittleness, and yellow as a faded sycamore leaf.
There were lines upon it as of a geometrical drawing, and an inscription
in strange characters. He bent over the chart, if such it may be called,
eagerly, and read it through; then, with a satisfied expression, he folded
it back into the cover, rebuckled the straps, and placed the parcel under
the pillow. Evidently the business drawing him was proceeding as he
would have had it. Next he woke the negro with a touch. The black in
salute bent his body forward, and raised his hands palm out, the thumbs
at the forehead. Attention singularly intense settled upon his
countenance; he appeared to listen with his soul. It was time for speech,
yet the master merely pointed to one of the sleepers. The watchful
negro caught the idea, and going to the man, aroused him, then
resumed his place and posture by the pallet. The action revealed his
proportions. He looked as if he could have lifted the gates of Gaza, and
borne them easily away; and to the strength there were superadded the
grace, suppleness, and softness of motion of a cat. One could not have
helped thinking the slave might have all the elements to make him a
superior agent in fields of bad as well as good.
The second slave arose, and waited respectfully. It would have been
difficult to determine his nationality. He had the lean face, the high
nose, sallow complexion, and low stature of an Armenian. His
countenance was pleasant and intelligent. In addressing him, the master
made signs with hand and finger; and they appeared sufficient, for the
servant walked away quickly as if on an errand. A short time, and he
came back bringing a companion of the genus sailor, very red-faced,
heavily built, stupid, his rolling gait unrelieved by a suggestion of good

manners. Taking position before the black-gowned personage, his feet
wide apart, the mariner said:
"You sent for me?"
The question was couched in Byzantine Greek.
"Yes," the passenger replied, in the same tongue, though with better
accent. "Where are we?"
"But for this calm we should be at Sidon. The lookout reports the
mountains in view."
The passenger reflected a moment, then asked, "Resorting to the oars,
when can we reach the city?"
"By midnight."
"Very well. Listen now."
The speaker's manner changed; fixing his big eyes upon the sailor's
lesser orbs, he continued:
"A few stadia north of Sidon there is what may be called a bay. It is
about four miles across. Two little rivers empty into it, one on each side.
Near the middle of the bend of the shore there is a well of sweet water,
with flow enough to support a few villagers and their camels. Do you
know the bay?"
The skipper would have become familiar.
"You are well acquainted with this coast," he said.
"Do you know of such a bay?" the passenger repeated.
"I have heard of it."
"Could you find it at night?"

"I believe so."
"That is enough. Take me into the bay, and land me at midnight. I will
not go to the city. Get out all the oars now. At the proper time I will tell
you what further I