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of the golden barley grain； other sacks he felt from the outside。
'No hope of looking over every sack in a hundred ton of barley；' he remarked； strolling back again to Hornblower。 'Much of it is sand； I expect。 But that is the way of the heathen。 The price is adjusted accordingly。 Very well； Effendi。'
At a sign from Duras； and under the urgings of the overseers； the slaves burst into activity； trotting up to the quayside and dropping their sacks into the lighter which lay there。 The first dozen men were organized into a working party to distribute the cargo evenly into the bottom of the lighter； while the others trotted off； their bodies gleaming with sweat； to fetch fresh loads。 At the same time a couple of swarthy herdsmen came out through the gate driving a small herd of cattle。
'Scrubby little creatures；' said Tapling； looking them over critically； 'but that was allowed for in the price； too。'
'The gold；' said Duras。
In reply Tapling opened one of the bags at his feet； filled his hand with golden guineas； and let them cascade through his fingers into the bag again。
'Five hundred guineas there；' he said。 'Fourteen bags； as you see。 They will be yours when the lighters are loaded and unmoored。'
Duras wiped his face with a weary gesture。 His knees seemed to be weak； and he leaned upon the patient donkey that stood behind him。
The cattle were being driven down a gangway into another lighter； and a second herd had now appeared and was waiting。
'Things move faster than you feared；' said Hornblower。
'See how they drive the poor wretches；' replied Tapling sententiously。 'See！ Things move fast when you have no concern for human flesh and blood。'
A coloured slave had fallen to the ground under his burden。 He lay there disregarding the blows rained on him by the sticks of the overseers。 There was a small movement of his legs。 Someone dragged him out of the way at last and the sacks continued to be carried to the lighter。 The other lighter was filling fast with cattle； packed into a tight； bellowing mass in which no movement was possible。
'His Nibs is actually keeping his word；' marvelled Tapling。 'I'd 'a settled for the half； if I had been asked beforehand。'
One of the herdsmen on the quay had sat down with his face in his hands； now he fell over limply on his side。
'Sir…' began Hornblower to Tapling； and the two men looked at each other with the same awful thought occurring to them at the same moment。
Duras began to say something； with one hand on the withers of the donkey and the other gesticulating in the air it seemed that he was making something of a speech； but there was no sense in the words he was roaring out in a hoarse voice。 His face was swollen beyond its customary fatness and his expression was widely distorted； while his cheeks were so suffused with blood as to look dark under his tan。 Duras quitted his hold of the donkey and began to reel about in half circles； under the eyes of Moors and Englishmen。 His voice died away to a whisper； his legs gave way under him； and he fell to his hands and knees and then to his face。
'That's the plague！' said Tapling。 'The Black Death！ I saw it in Smyrna in '96。'
He and the other Englishmen had shrunk back on the one side； the soldiers and the Treasurer on the other； leaving the palpitating body lying in the clear space between them。
'The plague； by St Peter！' squealed one of the young sailors。 He would have headed a rush to the longboat。
'Stand still； there！' roared Hornblower； scared of the plague but with the habits of discipline so deeply engrained in him by now that he checked the panic automatically。
'I was a fool not to have thought of it before；' said Tapling。 'That dying rat…that fellow over there who we thought was drunk。 I should have known！'
The soldier who appeared to be the sergeant in mand of the Treasurer's escort was in explosive conversation with the chief of the overseers of the slaves； both of them staring and pointing at the dying Duras； the Treasurer himself was clutching his robe about him and looking down at the wretched man at his feet in fascinated horror。
'Well sir；' said Hornblower to Tapling； 'what do we do now？'
Hornblower was of the temperament that demands immediate action in face of a crisis。
'Do？' replied Tapling with a bitter smile。 'We stay here and rot。'
'Stay here？'
'The fleet will never have us back。 Not until we have served three weeks of quarantine。 Three weeks after the last case has occurred。 Here in Oran。'
'Nonsense！' said Hornblower； with all the respect due to his senior startled out of him。 'No one would order that。'
'Would they not？ Have you ever seen an epidemic in a fleet？'
Hornblower had not； but he had heard enough about them…fleets where nine out of ten had died of putrid fevers。 Crowded ships with twenty…two inches of hammock space per man were ideal breeding places for epidemics。 He realized that no captain； no admiral； would run that risk for the sake of a longboat's crew of twenty men。
The two xebecs against the jetty had suddenly cast off； and were working their way out of the harbour under sweeps。
'The plague can only have struck to…day；' mused Hornblower； the habit of deduction strong in him despite his sick fear。
The cattle herders were abandoning their work； giving a wide berth to that one of their number who was lying on the quay。 Up at the town gate it appeared that the guard was employed in driving people back into the town…apparently the rumour of plague had spread sufficiently therein to cause a panic； while the guard had just received orders not to allow the population to stream out into the surrounding country。 There would be frightful things happening in the town soon。 The Treasurer was climbing on his donkey； the crowd of grain…carrying slaves was melting away as the overseers fled。
'I must report this to the ship；' said Hornblower； Tapling； as a civilian diplomatic officer； held no authority over him。
The whole responsibility was Hornblower's。 The longboat and the longboat's crew were Hornblower's mand； entrusted to him by Captain Pellew whose authority derived from the King。
Amazing how the panic was spreading。 The Treasurer was gone； Duras' Negro slave had ridden off on his late master's donkey； the soldiers had hastened off in a single group。 The waterfront was deserted now except for the dead and dying； along the waterfront； presumably； at the foot of the wall； lay the way to the open country which all desired to seek。 The Englishmen were standing alone； with the bags of gold at their feet。
'Plague spreads through the air；' said Tapling。 'Even the rats die of it。 We have been here for hours。 We were near enough to…that…' he nodded at the dying Duras…'to speak to him； to catch his breath。 Which of us will be the first？'
'We'll see when the time es；' said Hornblower。 It was his contrary nature to be sanguine in the face of depression； besides； he did not want the men to hear what Tapling was saying。
'And there's the fleet！' said Tapling bitterly。 'This lot'…he nodded at the deserted lighters； one almost full of cattle； the other almost full of grain sacks…'this lot would be a Godsend。 The men are on two…