A Brush with Algerines
The wind, which had veered in the night and was now nearly dead
astern, had moderated in force considerably, and although 'twas
raining I could just distinguish a range of cliffs on our starboard
hand, ending in a lofty headland with a sheer fall into the sea.
But the cause of the commotion on board was the presence of a long,
narrow craft that was bowling along barely two miles off our
larboard quarter. She had a lofty fo'c'sle and poop, with a low
waist, her rig consisting of two raking masts, from the slanting
yards of which bellied closely reefed, loose-footed triangular
sails. She flew no colours, but from the foremast head a long
streamer stood out as rigid as a spar.
"They mean mischief," said Captain Jeremy to the master gunner, who,
having called the guns' crews to their stations, had come off to
confer with him.
"'Tis strange enow," replied Master Touchstone, "seeing that we are
at peace with the French, the Hollanders, and the Spaniards. What
think you she is?"
"An Algerine,[1] judging from the cut of her rig," replied Captain
Jeremy, "though I scarce thought to meet one of those rascally
rovers so close to the English shores. It seems as if Admiral Robert
Blake--who upheld the honour of England on the high seas, even
though he were a stout rebel--has taught them but half a lesson."
"Report says that last October two of their galleys captured the
_Sea Dog_, of Padstow, within sight of the Lizard," observed the
master gunner. "Seven stout Cornish fishermen are even now slaving
in their pirate dens, for aught I know to the contrary."
"They'll not carry the _Golden Hope_, Master Touchstone," replied
Captain Jeremy resolutely. "Your preparations are complete, I take
it."
"Aye, aye. Four guns abroadside are loaded to the muzzle with musket
bullets, four of the others with iron balls, and one with bar shot.
'Twill make a fine present for yon craft, if she be in a mind to
take it."
From where I stood at the head of the poop ladder I could command a
clear view of the brig's deck. The guns, with powder and ball ready
to hand, were as yet still run in, for with the heavy sea that was
raging 'twas unwise to trice up the ports until the actual time to
open fire, and we were thus also able to deceive the stranger, who
doubtless took us for a merchantman. Had our ports been open and our
line of gunning ordnance showing, the Algerine--for such she proved
to be--might have shirked a conflict; but Captain Jeremy's blood was
up, and he swore that he'd give the rascally sea-rovers a lesson
that they would not be likely to forget.
Our crew--for most of them had smelt powder before, having served in
the Dutch wars--maintained perfect discipline, keeping well out of
sight; yet they stood grasping tackles and handspikes, ready at the
signal to run out their guns and deliver a crashing broadside.
"They do not fear to press her," observed the master gunner, "though
they do not seek to gain the weather gauge. Think you that they'll
dare to board, sir?"
"With this sea running? Aye, they'll try to run under our lee and
throw a score of their ruffianly crew aboard us. And were we a
peaceful trading craft they'd do it, though the sea were twice as
high. Smart helmsmen most of those rascals are. I call to mind a
Spanish captain I met in Cadiz nine years agone, who told me how his
vessel, a xebec, was carried by an Algerine ship in this fashion,
and in a heavy Levanter, to boot. But now, Master Touchstone, to
your station!"
The Algerine was now but a few hundred yards astern, the foam flying
from her sharp bows as they cleft the water. She had put up her helm
and was bearing down on our lee quarter, doubtless to board in the
manner that Captain Jeremy had predicted.
Observing that those of the crew who were not at the guns had armed
themselves with musket or pistol, I took hold of a musket. Thanks to
my forest training, I was well accustomed to handle a gun, being
reckoned a tolerable shot, though on board the _Golden Hope_ the
motion of the ship put me at a disadvantage. Nevertheless, lying
down on the poop, where a score of musketeers had already taken up a
like position, I awaited the opening of the engagement, though I
must confess the prospect of being under fire did not seem so
welcome as it had in the security of my own home, where I used to
hear the tales of glorious sea fights.
The sight of Captain Jeremy helped to reassure me. He was standing a
short distance from the helmsman, his feet set widely apart and his
shoulders braced up, with the air of a man who knows how to keep
calm and resolute in the time of danger. Alternately glancing at the
tightly drawing sails and the hostile ship astern, he directed the
brig's course by a gentle motion of his hand, a signal that the
quick-witted quartermaster knew how to obey.
"Stand by the weather after braces," the Captain shouted, and in
response to the order the men rushed to man the ropes that served to
trim the sails.
"Are you ready, master gunner?"
"Aye, aye, sir."
The Algerine was now barely one hundred yards astern, having
achieved her object of getting to lee'ard of us. I could see her
lofty fo'c'sle crowded with men--brown, black, aye, and even white
faces, for renegades were to be found in the service of the
infidels. Some of the crew wore turbans and flowing robes, others a
kind-of hooded garment that reached to the knees; but the majority
were naked from the waist upwards. With scimitar, spear, pistol, and
musket they crowded ready for a spring upon our decks, while they
rent the air with shouts of defiance and rage, which were borne to
our ears by the wind.
"Ready all! Ease the helm down!"
The _Golden Hope_ gave a swift, and graceful turn, so that she
exposed the whole of her larboard broadside to her enemy. Then, as
the Algerine likewise put her helm down to avoid a collision that
would doubtless have proved fatal to both craft, nine of our
vessel's guns were run out, and a crashing volley was poured into
our entrapped foe.
When the smoke had cleared away I saw a sight that I shall never
forget. The fo'c'sle, swept by a hail of bullets, was covered by a
writhing mass of dead and wounded men; her bows were beaten in by
the solid shot; while her foremast, cut off about six feet from the
deck, had fallen to lee'ard, bringing with it the heavy lateen yard
and sail, and crushing in its descent several of the crew who were
in the waist.
Owing to the high seas that were running, the Algerine had been
unable to use her oars; but the luckless slaves, chained to their
benches, did not escape the hail of shot, much as we should have
wished otherwise.
Amidst the clamour of shrieks, groans, and maledictions, for the
havoc our broadside had caused was immense, two white men sprang
over the side of the Algerine and began to swim in our direction.
"There are some slaves escaping," shouted one of our seamen from the
fo'c'sle.
"Where away?" asked Captain Jeremy.
"Dead astern, sir."
"Then 'bout ship. I'll do my best to pick them up. Yon rascals will
give us no more trouble."
'Twas no easy task, for by the time the _Golden Hope's_ bow was
pointed towards the spot where two heads could be discerned as they
rose upon the crest of a wave, we were nearly a quarter of a mile
away, while the disabled Algerine, drifting bodily with the wind and
falling broadside on to the breakers, was doomed to a terrible fate
on the rock-bound coast.
To get the two poor fugitives on board seemed impossible, for no
boat could live in such a sea. Even our guns' crews were at times
working up to the knees in water as they strove to secure their
guns, now that they were no longer required. But by means of a line
attached to a barrico and veered out to lee'ard, one of the men was
hauled up over the brig's side. The second slave was not so
fortunate. He must have been wounded, for he was seen to be swimming
very feebly; and ere the line came within his grasp he sank, in
spite of a gallant effort on the part of his companion to save him.
Meanwhile the _Golden Hope_ was put on her former course, or nearly
so, for in the pursuit and action--though the latter lasted but a
minute at the outside--we had drifted to within a dangerous distance
of the shore, where the surf was licking the face of the frowning
cliff towards which the Algerine was rapidly being carried.
We could clearly discern the last of the villainous but unfortunate
vessel. With her foremast shot away she was helpless, in spite of
frantic efforts to row her seaward. As fast as the heavy sweeps were
shipped they were shattered by the irresistible force of the waves,
till, midst a turmoil of foam, the doomed ship struck the cliff.
"The Deadman[2] has claimed another toll," shouted Captain Jeremy in
my ear. "Yon's one of the worst parts of the Cornish coast, and
should a single man of her crew reach the land, he'll meet with
short shrift at the hands of the wreckers and smugglers."
I had escaped my first experience of being under fire, somewhat to
my regret, now that the affair was over, for I had a presentiment
that 'twas but putting off the evil day. Yet I had gained some
knowledge of how Englishmen behave in times of danger, and that
knowledge was of no mean value.
Four hours later the _Golden Hope_ rounded the Lizard, and in a now
rapidly subsiding sea entered the vast expanse of the Atlantic
Ocean.
Well before sunset I saw the lofty cliffs disappear beneath the
horizon, and that was my last sight of Old England for many a long
day.
[1] During the seventeenth and even well into the eighteenth century
occasional raids by Algerine corsairs upon the shipping in the
Channel were reported. In the _Naval Chronicle_ for 1807 a letter
from one naval officer to another is given, under date of 1743. He
describes the wreck of a disabled Algerine off Land's End, pouring
out a whole torrent of abusive sarcasm upon the authorities of
Falmouth for sending "pork to feed the Mussulmans, being contrary to
their religion".
[2] The Dodman, a precipitous headland on the South Cornish coast,
between Fowey and Falmouth, is even now familiarly named "The
Deadman" by seamen. The most notable wrecks there in recent years
were those of the _Thresher_ and the _Lynx_ in 1897.