course to their speculations. Who was the original propounder of the particular suggestion that had driven them mad, was not very clear: but hit on the notion they somehow did.
“Who had seen her last? Who had been her companions?” were questions inevitable. Her little playfellows were called for, but they did not answer the summons. They too had disappeared. Aspasia, the waiting-maid, had seen them all sallying forth together in the direction of Daniel’s habitation. When catechised, the children had asserted that after accompanying them about halfway—and that was nothing in respect of actual distance—Bessie had left them to return to Madame R’s. This was all that could be elicited by the most careful cross-examination.
Unfortunately the older members of Daniel’s family had evinced tokens of mental disturbance, and exhibited a suspicious eagerness to acquit themselves of all blame in the matter. This would not perhaps have been wonderful in the eyes of their interlocutors had they considered that the burnt child dreads the fire—that the memory of past violences is necessarily connected with the thought of future possibilities. The women of Daniel’s household knew only too well what terrible consequences to themselves and their people might be involved in just this sort of accident. So as I have said they were too eager to vow and protest that they knew nothing about the little Frank damsel.
Some unlucky individual at last gave utterance to the foul suspicion that it was (another?) case of kidnapping for superstitious purposes, and in a moment the idea blazed from one end of the island to the other. The particulars of a plot were furnished off-hand, and it must be confessed that circumstances seemed to adapt themselves wonderfully to the charge. This charge in its matured state amounted to this: that the Jews having been long deprived of the necessary means of celebrating their Passover orgies, had been anxiously watching opportunities. Any attempt on the well-known and settled inhabitants would have been fraught with danger, as well they knew to their cost. Here in the nick of time—i.e., just as the festival was approaching, had arrived a little Christian child, without kith or kin on the spot. No one bound by ties of consanguinity to take upon himself the office of her avenger would be found in the island in a few days. It was not likely that anybody else would care much for, or long remember, a little stranger. So the victim had been fixed upon. Daniel had contrived to get me out of the way, whom they supposed to be one natural protector, and the children had been set on to act as decoys. Eventually in the mother’s absence the prey had been secured. To this bore witness the fact, that when last seen the poor child had been in company with her new playmates, making away from Madame R’s. house.
This all seems perfect nonsense now; but I am persuaded that very few people in Rhodes did not believe it. They had before their mind’s eye a picture of little Bessie, either already murdered, or shut up in some dismal hole awaiting the unholy sacrifice.
I need scarcely say, that the moment I came to understand the posture of affairs, I determined to proceed to the scene of action. A cool head was evidently wanted among them. Quillet had calmed down so far, after a little while, as to forego the purpose of personal vengeance for the present. But I saw that he still maintained his suspicions in force, and that if he was content to keep Daniel in safety, it was as the gaoler guards his captive. As for the ship’s crew and the mob on shore, they were simply mad.
“Quillet,” I said, “give me a couple of hands in the dingy, and set me ashore as near as possible to Madame R’s house. I will do my best to bring you off intelligence, and I feel as if I should succeed.”
He shook his head. He evidently retained little hope. I fear it was an impulse of vengeance that animated him.
“Take the boat,” he said, “and good luck be with you—but your trouble will be thrown away. However, we have the chief rascal hard and fast, that’s one comfort.”
“And mind,” I added, “that you keep him. He would not have a long lease of life, if some here had their way.”
I made him feel that it would be a burning shame if anything contrary to law and right should happen to anyone under his charge. To guard against contingencies I prevailed on him to remain on board, where he would in this respect be of great use, whereas in his then state he could do no good on shore.
I proclaimed my absolute conviction that the charge against the Jews was an absurd lie—a thing in itself incredible and impossible—the bare suggesting of which involved an insult to a man’s common sense.
There was enough of solid ground for fear, without falling on fancies. That little Bessie might have fallen into some serious peril was only too possible, but if mortal hands could rescue her, there were we to rescue.
Hurried as I was, I went below for a moment to bid good bye to Daniel and his friend—and to assure them of protection. They were much cast down. It was impossible to say whether or not the child would be found, and in what condition.
As I talked with them a woman came up. She was a Greek, the wife of the boatman who came off every day to look after the wants of the men. I had more than once noticed her, as a mild, kind, motherly person. I thought she must be coming to console.
I was mistaken. She walked straight up to Daniel, and without preface spit in his face.
“Dog! sorcerer! murderer! Jew!” she screamed, and then poured out a torrent of imprecation into which I could not follow here. Her gesture, however, was savagely expressive of a desire to cut his throat. The poor fellows both of them crouched before her wrath.
“Halloh! mistress!” I cried, “get out of this. These men are prisoners, and you must not interfere with them.”
She seemed to understand me, for she had a certain amount of broken English at command. Perhaps she was pretty nearly as accessible to one language as another just then.
