



Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Boy Slaves, by Captain Mayne Reid.

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This is an excellent book, telling of the adventures of three midshipmen
and a much older sailor from a British warship that goes aground off the
coast of Africa, well offshore, and sinks with all hands.  However these
four find themselves afloat on a spar, which they paddle with their
hands for several days until they reach the shore of Africa.  Shortly
after this they are taken prisoner by some Arabs, who intend to take
them north to a town where they can be sold as slaves.

The book deals with their adventures as they are driven north to be
sold.  In those days Arab pirate ships, known as Barbary pirates, and
also Algerine pirates, used to capture European vessels and make their
white crews and passengers into slaves, demanding ransoms from their
families.  Even if the ransom was received, the captors usually
pretended it hadn't been.  The practice had been going on for centuries,
and was terminated in 1816 when Admiral Lord Exmouth attacked Algiers,
and obtained the release of 1300 white slaves.  Following this the
French were charged with the responsibility of keeping the Arabs of
North Africa in order.  The date of 1816 is wrongly given as 1856 on
page xi of Guy Pocock's introduction to the Everyman Edition of the
book.

The audiobook takes about ten hours to play.
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THE BOY SLAVES, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.



CHAPTER ONE.

THE LAND OF THE SLAVE.

Land of Ethiope! whose burning centre seems unapproachable as the frozen
Pole!

Land of the unicorn and the lion, of the crouching panther and the
stately elephant, of the camel, the camel-leopard, and the camel-bird!
Land of the antelopes, of the wild gemsbok, and the gentle gazelle, land
of the gigantic crocodile and huge river-horse, land teeming with animal
life, and, last in the list of my apostrophic appellations--last, and
that which must grieve the heart to pronounce it, land of the slave!

Ah; little do men think, while thus hailing thee, how near may be the
dread doom to their own hearths and homes!  Little dream they, while
expressing their sympathy--alas! too often, as of late shown in England,
a hypocritical utterance--little do they suspect, while glibly
commiserating the lot of thy sable-skinned children, that hundreds, ay
thousands, of their own colour and kindred are held within thy confines,
subject to a lot even lowlier than these--a fate far more fearful.

Alas! it is even so.  While I write, the proud Caucasian, despite his
boasted superiority of intellect, despite the whiteness of his skin, may
be found by hundreds in the unknown interior, wretchedly toiling, the
slave not only of thy oppressors, but the slave of thy slaves!

Let us lift that curtain which shrouds thy great Saara, and look upon
some pictures that should teach the son of Shem, while despising his
brothers Ham and Japhet, that he is not master of the world.

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Dread is that shore between Susa and Senegal, on the western edge of
Africa--by mariners most dreaded of any other in the world.  The very
thought of it causes the sailor to shiver with affright.  And no wonder;
on that inhospitable seaboard thousands of his fellows have found a
watery grave; and thousands of others a doom far more deplorable than
death!

There are two great deserts: one of land, the other of water--the Saara
and the Atlantic--their contiguity extending through ten degrees of the
earth's latitude--an enormous distance.  Nothing separates them, save a
line existing only in the imagination.  The dreary and dangerous
wilderness of water kisses the wilderness of sand--not less dreary or
dangerous to those whose misfortune it may be to become castaways on
this dreaded shore.

Alas! it has been the misfortune of many--not hundreds, but thousands.
Hundreds of ships, rather than hundreds of men, have suffered wreck and
ruin between Susa and Senegal.  Perhaps were we to include Roman,
Phoenician, and Carthaginian, we might say thousands of ships also.

More noted, however, have been the disasters of modern times, during
what may be termed the epoch of modern navigation.  Within the period of
the last three centuries, sailors of almost every maritime nation--at
least all whose errand has led them along the eastern edge of the
Atlantic--have had reason to regret approximation to those shores, known
in ship parlance as the Barbary coast; but which, with a slight
alteration in the orthography, might be appropriately styled