THE ESCAPE
"In one respect," Geoffrey said, as they were talking over their
chance of escape, "I am sorry that the bey has behaved so kindly
to us."
"What is that?" Stephen Boldero asked in surprise.
"Well, I was thinking that were it not for that we might manage
to contrive some plan of escape in concert with the galley slaves,
get them down to the shore here, row off to the galley, overpower
the three or four men who live on board her, and make off with her.
Of course we should have had to accumulate beforehand a quantity
of food and some barrels of water, for I have noticed that when
they go out they always take their stores on board with them, and
bring on shore on their return what has not been consumed. Still,
I suppose that could be managed. However, it seems to me that our
hands are tied in that direction by the kindness of the bey. After
his conduct to us it would be ungrateful in the extreme for us to
carry off his galley."
"So it would, Geoffrey. Besides I doubt whether the plan would
succeed. You may be sure the Spaniards are as jealous as can be
of the good fortune that we have met with, and were we to propose
such a scheme to them the chances are strongly in favour of one of
them trying to better his own position by denouncing us. I would
only trust them as far as I can see them. No, if we ever do anything
it must be done by ourselves. There is no doubt that if some night
when there is a strong wind blowing from the southeast we were
to get on board one of these fishing boats, hoist a sail, and run
before it, we should not be far off from the coast of Spain before
they started to look for us. But what better should we be there?
We can both talk Spanish well enough, but we could not pass as
Spaniards. Besides, they would find out soon enough that we were
not Catholics, and where should we be then? Either sent to row
in their galleys or clapped into the dungeons of the Inquisition,
and like enough burnt alive at the stake. That would be out of the
frying pan into the fire with vengeance."
"I think we might pass as Spaniards," Geoffrey said; "for there is
a great deal of difference between the dialects of the different
provinces, and confined as you have been for the last ten years with
Spanish sailors you must have caught their way of talking. Still,
I agree with you it will be better to wait for a bit longer for
any chance that may occur rather than risk landing in Spain again,
where even if we passed as natives we should have as hard work to
get our living as we have here, and with no greater chance of making
our way home again."
During the time that they had been captives some three or four
vessels had been brought in by the corsair. The men composing
the crews had been either sold as slaves to Moors or Arabs in the
interior or sent to Algiers, which town lay over a hundred miles
to the east. They were of various nationalities, Spanish, French,
and Italian, as the two friends learned from the talk of the
natives, for they always abstained from going near the point where
the prisoners were landed, as they were powerless to assist the
unfortunate captives in any way, and the sight of their distress
was very painful to them.
One day, however, they learned from the people who were running
down to the shore to see the captives landed from a ship that had
been brought in by the corsair during the night, that there were
two or three women among the captives. This was the first time that
any females had been captured since their arrival at the place, for
women seldom travelled far from their homes in those days, except
the wives of high officials journeying in great ships that were
safe from the attack of the Moorish corsairs.
"Let us go down and see them," Boldero said. "I have not seen the
face of a white woman for nine years."
"I will go if you like," Geoffrey said. "They will not guess that
we are Europeans, for we are burnt as dark as the Moors."
They went down to the landing place. Eight men and two women were
landed from the boat. These were the sole survivors of the crew.
"They are Spaniards," Boldero said. "I pity that poor girl. I
suppose the other woman is her servant."
The girl, who was about sixteen years of age, was very pale, and
had evidently been crying terribly. She did not seem to heed the
cries and threats with which the townspeople as usual assailed the
newly arrived captives, but kept her eyes fixed upon one of the
captives who walked before her.
"That is her father, no doubt," Geoffrey said. "It is probably her
last look at him. Come away, Stephen; I am awfully sorry we came
here. I shall not be able to get that girl's face out of my mind
for I don't know how long."
Without a word they went back to their hut. They had no particular
work that day. Geoffrey went restlessly in and out, sometimes pacing
along the strand, sometimes coming in and throwing himself on the
divan. Stephen Boldero went on quietly mending a net that had been
damaged the night before, saying nothing, but glancing occasionally
with an amused look at his companion's restless movements. Late in
the afternoon Geoffrey burst out suddenly: "Stephen, we must try
and rescue that girl somehow from her fate."
"I supposed that was what it was coming to," Boldero said quietly.
"Well, let me hear all about it. I know you have been thinking it
over ever since morning. What are your ideas?"
"I do not know that I have any ideas beyond getting her and her
father down to a boat and making off."
"Well, you certainly have not done much if you haven't got farther
than that," Stephen said drily. "Now, if you had spent the day
talking it over with me instead of wandering about like one out
of his mind, we should have got a great deal further than that by
this time. However, I have been thinking for you. I know what you
young fellows are. As soon as I saw that girl's face and looked
at you I was dead certain there was an end of peace and quietness,
and that you would be bent upon some plan of getting her off.
It did not need five minutes to show that I was right; and I have
been spending my time thinking, while you have thrown yours away
in fidgeting.
"Well, I think it is worth trying. Of course it will be a vastly
more difficult job getting the girl and her father away than just
taking a boat and sailing off as we have often talked of doing.
Then, on the other hand, it would altogether alter our position
afterwards. By his appearance and hers I have no doubt he is a
well to do trader, perhaps a wealthy one. He walked with his head
upright when the crowd were yelling and cursing, and is evidently
a man of courage and determination. Now, if we had reached the
Spanish coast by ourselves we should have been questioned right
and left, and, as I have said all along, they would soon have found
that we were not Spaniards, for we could not have said where we
came from, or given our past history, or said where our families
lived. But it would be altogether different if we landed with
them. Every one would be interested about them. We should only be
two poor devils of sailors who had escaped with them, and he would
help to pass it off and get us employment; so that the difficulty
that has hitherto prevented us from trying to escape is very greatly
diminished. Now, as to getting them away. Of course she has been
taken up to the bey's, and no doubt he will send her as a present
to the bey of Algiers. I know that is what has been done several
times before when young women have been captured.
"I have been thinking it over, and I do not see a possibility of
getting to speak to her as long as she is at the bey's. I do not
see that it can be done anyhow. She will be indoors most of the
time, and if she should go into the garden there would be other women
with her. Our only plan, as far as I can see at present, would be
to carry her off from her escort on the journey. I do not suppose
she will have more than two, or at most three, mounted men with
her, and we ought to be able to dispose of them. As to her father,
the matter is comparatively easy. We know the ways of the prison,
and I have no doubt we can get him out somehow; only there is the
trouble of the question of time. She has got to be rescued and
brought back and hidden somewhere till nightfall, he has got to be
set free the same evening, and we have to embark early enough to
be well out of sight before daylight; and maybe there will not be
a breath of wind stirring. It is a tough job, Geoffrey, look at it
which way you will."
"It is a tough job," Geoffrey agreed. "I am afraid the escort
would be stronger than you think. A present of this kind to the bey
is regarded as important, and I should say half a dozen horsemen
at least will be sent with her. In that case an attempt at rescue
would be hopeless. We have no arms, and if we had we could not kill
six mounted men; and if even one escaped, our plans would be all
defeated. The question is, would they send her by land? It seems
to me quite as likely that they might send her by water."
"Yes, that is likely enough, Geoffrey. In that case everything would
depend upon the vessel he sent her in. If it is the great galley
there is an end of it; if it is one of their little coasters it
might be managed. We are sure to learn that before long. The bey
might keep her for a fortnight or so, perhaps longer, for her to
recover somewhat from the trouble and get up her good looks again,
so as to add to the value of the present. If she were well and
bright she would be pretty enough for anything. In the meantime we
can arrange our plans for getting her father away. Of course if she
goes with a big escort on horseback, or if she goes in the galley,
there is an end of our plans. I am ready to help you, Geoffrey, if
there is a chance of success; but I am not going to throw away my
life if there is not, and unless she goes down in a coaster there
is an end of the scheme."
"I quite agree to that," Geoffrey replied; "we cannot accomplish
impossibilities."
They learned upon the following day that three of the newly arrived
captives were to take the places of the galley slaves who had
been killed in the capture of the Spanish ship, which had defended
itself stoutly, and that the others were to be sold for work in
the interior.
"It is pretty certain," Boldero said, "that the trader will not be
one of the three chosen for the galley. The work would break him
down in a month. That makes that part of the business easier, for
we can get him away on the journey inland, and hide him up here
until his daughter is sent off."
Geoffrey looked round the bare room.
"Well, I do not say as how we could hide him here," Boldero said
in answer to the look, "but we might hide him somewhere among the
sand hills outside the place, and take him food at night."
"Yes, we might do that," Geoffrey agreed. "That could be managed
easily enough, I should think, for there are clumps of bushes
scattered all over the sand hills half a mile back from the sea.
The trouble will be if we get him here, and find after all that we
cannot rescue his daughter."
"That will make no difference," Boldero said. "In that case we
will make off with him alone. Everything else will go on just the
same. Of course, I should be very sorry not to save the girl; but,
as far as we are concerned, if we save the father it will answer
our purpose."
Geoffrey made no reply. Just at that moment his own future was a
very secondary matter, in comparison, to the rescue of this unhappy
Spanish girl.
Geoffrey and his companion had been in the habit of going up
occasionally to the prison. They had won over the guard by small
presents, and were permitted to go in and out with fruit and other
little luxuries for the galley slaves. They now abstained from
going near the place, in order that no suspicion might fall upon
them after his escape of having had any communication with the
Spanish trader.
Shortly after the arrival of the captives two merchants from the
interior came down, and Geoffrey learned that they had visited the
prison, and had made a bargain with the bey for all the captives
except those transferred to the galley. The two companions had
talked the matter over frequently, and had concluded it was best
that only one of them should be engaged in the adventure, for the
absence of both might be noticed. After some discussion it was
agreed that Geoffrey should undertake the task, and that Boldero
should go alone to the house where they were now at work, and should
mention that his friend was unwell, and was obliged to remain at
home for the day.
As they knew the direction in which the captives would be taken
Geoffrey started before daybreak, and kept steadily along until he
reached a spot where it was probable they would halt for the night.
It was twenty miles away, and there was here a well of water and a
grove of trees. Late in the afternoon he saw the party approaching.
It consisted of the merchants, two armed Arabs, and the five
captives, all of whom were carrying burdens. They were crawling
painfully along, overpowered by the heat of the sun, by the length
of the journey, and by the weight they carried. Several times the
Arabs struck them heavily with their sticks to force them to keep
up.
Geoffrey retired from the other side of the clump of trees, and
lay down in a depression of the sand hills until darkness came on,
when he again entered the grove, and crawling cautiously forward
made his way close up to the party. A fire was blazing, and a meal
had been already cooked and eaten. The traders and the two Arabs
were sitting by the fire; the captives were lying extended on the
ground. Presently, at the command of one of the Arabs, they rose
to their feet and proceeded to collect some more pieces of wood
for the fire. As they returned the light fell on the gray hair of
the man upon whom Geoffrey had noticed that the girl's eyes were
fixed.
He noted the place where he lay down, and had nothing to do now
but to wait until the party were asleep. He felt sure that no guard
would be set, for any attempt on the part of the captives to escape
would be nothing short of madness. There was nowhere for them to
go, and they would simply wander about until they died of hunger
and exhaustion, or until they were recaptured, in which case they
would be almost beaten to death. In an hour's time the traders and
their men lay down by the fire, and all was quiet. Geoffrey crawled
round until he was close to the Spaniard. He waited until he felt
sure that the Arabs were asleep, and then crawled up to him. The
man started as he touched him.
"Silence, senor," Geoffrey whispered in Spanish; "I am a friend,
and have come to rescue you."
"I care not for life; a few days of this work will kill me, and
the sooner the better. I have nothing to live for. They killed my
wife the other day, and my daughter is a captive in their hands.
I thank you, whoever you are, but I will not go."
"We are going to try to save your daughter too," Geoffrey whispered;
"we have a plan for carrying you both off."
The words gave new life to the Spaniard. "In that case, sir, I am
ready. Whoever you are whom God has sent to my aid I will follow
you blindly, whatever comes of it."
Geoffrey crawled away a short distance, followed by the Spaniard.
As soon as they were well beyond the faint light now given out by
the expiring fire they rose to their feet, and gaining the track
took their way on the backward road. As soon as they were fairly
away, Geoffrey explained to the Spaniard who he was, and how he
had undertaken to endeavour to rescue him. The joy and gratitude
of the Spaniard were too deep for words, and he uttered his thanks
in broken tones. When they had walked about a mile Geoffrey halted.
"Sit down here," he said. "I have some meat and fruit here and a
small skin of water. We have a long journey before us, for we must
get near the town you left this morning before daybreak, and you
must eat to keep up your strength."
"I did not think," the Spaniard said, "when we arrived at the well,
that I could have walked another mile had my life depended upon
it. Now I feel a new man, after the fresh hope you have given me.
I no longer feel the pain of my bare feet or the blisters the sun
has raised on my naked back. I am struggling now for more than
life--for my daughter. You shall not find me to fail, sir."
All night they toiled on. The Spaniard kept his promise, and utterly
exhausted as he was, and great as was the pain in his limbs, held
on bravely. With the first dawn of morning they saw the line of
the sea before them. They now turned off from the track, and in
another half hour the Spaniard took shelter in a clump of bushes
in a hollow, while Geoffrey, having left with him the remainder
of the supply of provisions and water, pursued his way and reached
the hut just as the sun was shining in the east, and without having
encountered a single person.
"Well, have you succeeded?" Boldero asked eagerly, as he entered.
"Yes; I have got him away. He is in hiding within a mile of this
place. He kept on like a hero. I was utterly tired myself, and how
he managed to walk the distance after what he had gone through in
the day is more than I can tell. His name is Mendez. He is a trader
in Cadiz, and owns many vessels. He was on his way to Italy, with
his wife and daughter, in one of his own ships, in order to gratify
the desire of his wife to visit the holy places at Rome. She was
killed by a cannon shot during the fight, and his whole heart is
now wrapped up in his daughter. And now, Stephen, I must lie down
and sleep. You will have to go to work alone today again, and can
truly say that I am still unfit for labour."
Four days later it became known in the little town that a messenger
had arrived from the merchant who bought the slaves from the bey,
saying that one of them had made his escape from their first halting
place.
"The dog will doubtless die in the desert," the merchant wrote;
"but if he should find his way down, or you should hear of him as
arriving at any of the villages, I pray you to send him up to me
with a guard. I will so treat him that it will be a lesson to my
other slaves not to follow his example."
Every evening after dark Geoffrey went out with a supply of food
and water to the fugitive. For a week he had no news to give him
as to his daughter; but on the eighth night he said that he and
his companion had that morning been sent by the bey on board the
largest of the coasting vessels in the port, with orders to paint
the cabins and put them in a fit state for the reception of a
personage of importance.
"This is fortunate, indeed," Geoffrey went on. "No doubt she is
intended for the transport of your daughter. Her crew consists of
a captain and five men, but at present they are living ashore; and
as we shall be going backwards and forwards to her, we ought to
have little difficulty in getting on board and hiding away in the
hold before she starts. I think everything promises well for the
success of our scheme."
The bey's superintendent came down the next day to see how matters
were going on on board the vessel. The painting was finished that
evening, and the next day two slaves brought down a quantity of
hangings and cushions, which Geoffrey and his companion assisted
the superintendent to hang up and place in order. Provisions and
water had already been taken on board, and they learnt that the
party who were to sail in her would come off early the next morning.
At midnight Geoffrey, Boldero, and the Spaniard came down to the
little port, embarked in a fisherman's boat moored at the stairs,
and noiselessly rowed off to the vessel. They mounted on to her
deck barefooted. Boldero was the last to leave the boat, giving her
a vigorous push with his foot in the direction of the shore, from
which the vessel was but some forty yards away. They descended
into the hold, where they remained perfectly quiet until the first
light of dawn enabled them to see what they were doing, and then
moved some baskets full of vegetables, and concealed themselves
behind them.
A quarter of an hour later they heard a boat come alongside, and
the voices of the sailors. Then they heard the creaking of cordage
as the sails were let fall in readiness for a start. Half an hour
later another boat came alongside. There was a trampling of feet
on the deck above them, and the bey's voice giving orders. A few
minutes later the anchor was raised, there was more talking on
deck, and then they heard a boat push off, and knew by the rustle
of water against the planks beside them that the vessel was under
way.
The wind was light and the sea perfectly calm, and beyond the
slight murmur of the water, those below would not have known that
the ship was in motion. It was very hot down in the hold, but
fortunately the crew had not taken the trouble to put on the hatches,
and at times a faint breath of air could be felt below. Geoffrey
and his companion talked occasionally in low tones; but the Spaniard
was so absorbed by his anxiety as to the approaching struggle, and
the thought that he might soon clasp his daughter to his arms, that
he seldom spoke.
No plans could be formed as to the course they were to take, for
they could not tell whether those of the crew off duty would retire
to sleep in the little forecastle or would lie down on deck. Then,
too, they were ignorant as to the number of men who had come on
board with the captive. The overseer had mentioned the day before
that he was going, and it was probable that three or four others
would accompany him. Therefore they had to reckon upon ten opponents.
Their only weapons were three heavy iron bolts, some two feet
long. These Boldero had purchased in exchange for a few fish, when
a prize brought in was broken up as being useless for the purposes
of the Moors.
"What I reckon is," he said, "that you and I ought to be able to
settle two apiece of these fellows before they fairly know what is
happening. The Don ought very well to account for another. So that
only leaves five of them; and five against three are no odds worth
speaking of, especially when the five are woke up by a sudden
attack, and ain't sure how many there are against them. I don't
expect much trouble over the affair."
"I don't want to kill more of the poor fellows than I can help,"
Geoffrey said.
"No more do I; but you see it's got to be either killing or being
killed, and I am perfectly certain which I prefer. Still, as you
say, if the beggars are at all reasonable I ain't for hurting them,
but the first few we have got to hit hard. When we get matters a
little even, we can speak them fair."
The day passed slowly, and in spite of their bent and cramped position
Geoffrey and Stephen Boldero dozed frequently. The Spaniard never
closed an eye. He was quite prepared to take his part in the
struggle; and as he was not yet fifty years of age, his assistance
was not to be despised. But the light hearted carelessness of
his companions, who joked under their breath, and laughed and ate
unconcernedly with a life and death struggle against heavy odds
before them, surprised him much.
As darkness came on the party below became wakeful. Their time was
coming now, and they had no doubt whatever as to the result. Their
most formidable opponents would be the men who had come on board
with the bey's superintendent, as these, no doubt, would be fully
armed. As for the sailors, they might have arms on board, but these
would not be ready to hand, and it was really only with the guards
they would have to deal.
"I tell you what I think would be a good plan, Stephen," Geoffrey
said suddenly. "You see, there is plenty of spare line down here;
if we wait until they are all asleep we can go round and tie their
legs together, or put ropes round their ankles and fasten them to
ring bolts. If we could manage that without waking them, we might
capture the craft without shedding any blood, and might get them
down into the hold one after the other."
"I think that is a very good plan," Stephen agreed. "I do not like
the thought of knocking sleeping men on the head any more than you
do; and if we are careful, we might get them all tied up before
an alarm is given. There, the anchor has gone down. I thought very
likely they would not sail at night. That is capital. You may be
sure that they will be pretty close inshore, and they probably will
have only one man on watch; and as likely as not even one, for they
will not dream of any possible danger."
For another two hours the sound of talk on deck went on, but at
last all became perfectly quiet. The party below waited for another
half hour, and then noiselessly ascended the ladder to the deck,
holding in one hand a cudgel, in the other a number of lengths of
line cut about six feet long. Each as he reached the deck lay down
flat. The Spaniard had been told to remain perfectly quiet while
the other two went about their task.
First they crawled aft, for the bey's guards would, they knew,
be sleeping at that end, and working together they tied the legs
of these men without rousing them. The ropes could not be tightly
pulled, as this would at once have disturbed them. They were therefore
fastened somewhat in the fashion of manacles, so that although the
men might rise to their feet they would fall headlong the moment
they tried to walk. In addition other ropes were fastened to these
and taken from one man to another. Then their swords were drawn
from the sheaths and their knives from their sashes.
The operation was a long one, as it had to be conducted with the
greatest care and caution. They then crept back to the hatchway and
told the Spaniard that the most formidable enemies had been made
safe.
"Here are a sword and a knife for you, senor; and now as we are
all armed I consider the ship as good as won, for the sailors are
not likely to make much resistance by themselves. However, we will
secure some of them. The moon will be up in half an hour, and that
will be an advantage to us.
The captain and three of the sailors were soon tied up like the
others. Two men were standing in the bow of the vessel leaning
against the bulwarks, and when the moon rose it could be seen by
their attitude that both were asleep.
"Now, we may as well begin," Geoffrey said. "Let us take those two
fellows in the bow by surprise. Hold a knife to their throats, and
tell them if they utter the least sound we will kill them. Then we
will make them go down into the forecastle and fasten them there."
"I am ready," Stephen said, and they stole forward to the two
sleeping men. They grasped them suddenly by the throat and held a
knife before their eyes, Boldero telling them in a stern whisper
that if they uttered a cry they would be stabbed to the heart.
Paralysed by the sudden attack they did not make the slightest
struggle, but accompanied their unknown assailants to the forecastle
and were there fastened in. Joined now by the Spaniard, Geoffrey
and his companion went aft and roused one of the sleepers there
with a threat similar to that which had silenced the sailors.
He was, however, a man of different stuff. He gave a loud shout and
grappled with Boldero, who struck him a heavy blow with his fist in
the face, and this for a moment silenced him; but the alarm being
given, the superintendent and the two men struggled to their feet,
only however to fall prostrate as soon as they tried to walk.
"Lie quiet and keep silence!" Boldero shouted in a threatening
voice.
"You are unarmed and at our mercy. Your feet are bound and you are
perfectly helpless. We do not wish to take your lives, but unless
you are quiet we shall be compelled to do so."
The men had discovered by this time that their arms had gone, and
were utterly disconcerted by the heavy and unexpected fall they
had just had. Feeling that they were indeed at the mercy of their
captors, they lay quiet.
"Now then," Boldero went on, "one at a time. Keep quiet, you rascals
there!" he broke off shouting to the sailors who were rolling and
tumbling on the deck forward, "or I will cut all your throats for
you. Now then, Geoffrey, do you and the senor cut the rope that
fastens that man on the port side to his comrades. March him to
the hatchway and make him go down into the hold. Keep your knives
ready and kill him at once if he offers the slightest resistance."
One by one the superintendent, the three guards, the captain and
sailors were all made to descend into the hold, and the hatches
were put over it and fastened down.
"Now, senor," Geoffrey said, "we can spare you."
The Spaniard hurried to the cabin, opened the door, and called
out his daughter's name. There was a scream of delight within as
Dolores Mendez, who had been awakened by the tumult, recognized her
father's voice, and leaping up from her couch threw herself into
his arms. Geoffrey and his companion now opened the door of the
forecastle and called the two sailors out.
"Now," Boldero said, "if you want to save your lives you have got to
obey our orders. First of all fall to work and get up the anchor,
and then shake out the sails again. I will take the helm, Geoffrey,
and do you keep your eye on these two fellows. There is no fear of
their playing any tricks now that they see they are alone on deck,
but they might, if your back were turned, unfasten the hatches.
However, I do not think we need fear trouble that way, as for aught
they know we may have cut the throats of all the others."
A few minutes later the vessel was moving slowly through the water
with her head to the northwest.
"We must be out of sight of land if we can by the morning," Stephen
said, when Geoffrey two hours later came to take his place at the
helm; "at any rate until we have passed the place we started from.
Once beyond that it does not matter much; but it will be best either
to keep out of sight of land altogether, or else to sail pretty
close to it, so that they can see the boat is one of their own
craft. We can choose which we will do when we see which way the
breeze sets in in the morning."
It came strongly from the south, and they therefore determined to
sail direct for Carthagena.