After leaving the slaves, Gervaise joined his companions on the poop.
They were engaged in an animated discussion as to whether it was
advisable to grant indulgences to slaves. The majority approved of the
steps Gervaise had taken, but some asserted that these concessions would
only lead them to look for more, and would create discontent among the
crews of other galleys not so favoured.
“Well, comrades,” said Gervaise, “I think that so far I am better
qualified than any of you to give an opinion; but it may be that it will
fall to the lot of some of you to be a slave in Turkish hands. In that
case, I can affirm with certainty, that you will keenly appreciate any
alleviation, however small, of your lot. You must remember that the one
feeling of the slave is dull despair. Death is the only relief he has
to look forward to. Do you think that a man so feeling can do his best,
either at an oar or at any other kind of work? I am sure it would not be
so in my case. But if you brighten his life a little, and show him
that he is not regarded as merely a brute beast, and that you take some
interest in him, he will work in a different spirit. Even viewed from a
merely monetary point of view it must pay well to render him as content
as possible with his lot. You know how great is the mortality among the
slaves--how they pine away and die from no material malady that can be
detected, but simply from hopelessness and weariness of life, aided,
undoubtedly, in the case of the galley slaves, by sleeping in the damp
night air after an exposure all day to the full heat of the sun. This
brings an answer to your second objection. Undoubtedly it might cause
discontent among the slaves of other galleys when they hear that others
are treated better than themselves. But I hope that if, on our return,
we bring back all our slaves in good condition and health, the contrast
between their appearance and that of the slaves in most other galleys
will be so marked that the admiral may consider it would be well to
order awnings to be fixed to all the vessels of the Order, and even to
grant to all slaves, when away on voyages, the little indulgences I
have given them here. The expense would be very trifling, and it would
certainly add a great deal to the average life of a slave, and would
render him capable of better work. There is another advantage. If
the Turks learn that their countrymen in our hands are treated with a
certain amount of kindness and consideration, it might lead them to act
similarly to those of our Order who may be unfortunate enough to fall
into their hands.”
“There is a great deal in what you say, Sir Gervaise,” one of the
knights, who had before taken the opposite point of view, said. “There
is no reason why our galley should not be a model one, and though, like
enough, the seniors will laugh at our making innovations, D'Aubusson
is a reformer, and will certainly support anything that he sees to be
beneficial, from whatever quarter it comes.”
Supper was now served, and the young knights were well pleased with the
entertainment provided for them. It was the principal meal of the day.
Their fast was broken by a glass of wine, a manchet of bread, and fruit
soon after rising. At eleven o'clock they sat down to a more substantial
meal; but in that climate the heat was at that hour considerable, and as
there were duties to be performed, there was no sitting long at table.
At supper the day's work was over, their appetite was sharpened by the
cool evening breeze, and the meal was hearty and prolonged. After it was
concluded, several of the knights brought up from below viols and other
instruments of music; for the ability to accompany the voice with such
an instrument was considered an essential part of the education of a
knight.
For some hours the songs and romances, so popular at the time, were sung
in the various languages represented on board; then the knights, one by
one, went down to their sleeping places, until only the seven knights of
the langue of Auvergne, who were to watch the first night, remained on
deck. Five of these wrapped themselves in their mantles and lay down on
the benches. One of the others descended to the waist, walked along the
plank between the lines of sleeping slaves, and took up his place in
the bow, while the other paced up and down the poop, the fall of
his footsteps being the only sound to break the silence that reigned
throughout the ship.
In the morning, as soon as the knights had all taken a plunge in the
sea, the oars were got out, and the galley proceeded on her way. Passing
through the islands and skirting the southern shore of Greece, she
continued her course west. Malta was sighted, but they did not put in
there. Pantellaria was passed, and in a fortnight after leaving Rhodes,
Cape Bon, at the entrance to the bay of Tunis, was sighted. Until Greece
was left behind them, the nights had generally been spent in small
ports, where supplies of fresh meat, fish, and fruit, were obtainable.
So far no incident had marked the voyage. The weather had continued
fine, and they had heard nothing, from ships they had fallen in with,
of any Moslem pirates having been seen. A few hours, however, after
sighting the coast of Africa, a dark object was seen ahead.
“It is a ship of some sort,” Ralph said; “but her masts have gone. It
may be that she is a merchantman that has been captured and sacked by
the Moorish pirates.”
Orders were given to the rowers to quicken their pace, and in little
over an hour they were alongside the hull. As soon as the vessels were
close enough for those on the poop of the galley to look down on to
the deck of the other craft, it was seen that Ralph's suppositions were
correct. Two bodies lay stretched upon it. One was crushed under the
fallen mast; the other lay huddled up in a heap, a cannon ball having
almost torn him asunder. The knights leapt on to the deck as soon as the
galley ran alongside. Gervaise made first for the man lying beneath the
mast; as he came up to him, the sailor opened his eyes and murmured,
“Water!” Gervaise called out to one of the servants to bring water from
the galley, and, as soon as it came, poured some between the man's lips,
and the knights by their united efforts lifted the mast from across his
body. It was evident, however, that he had but a short time to live,
and the dew of death was on his face. After a few minutes he rallied a
little, and looked gratefully at his rescuers.
“You have been attacked by pirates,” Gervaise said. “Was there one
galley, or two?”
“Three galleys,” the man replied in a faint whisper.
“Do you know where they were from?”
“Tripoli.”
“How long ago?”
“It was about three hours after sunrise when we saw them coming up,” the
man said, his voice gaining in strength, as some wine they gave him took
effect. “It was useless to fight, and I hauled down our flag, but in
spite of that one of the pirates fired a broadside, and one of the
shot hit the mast and brought it down, and I was crushed under it. They
boarded us, took off all the crew as captives, and emptied the hold; I
knew that I was done for, and begged them to kill me; but they paid
no attention. I know a little of their language, and as I lay there I
caught something of what they were saying; they are bound for the Island
of Sardinia, where they have a rendezvous, and are to join a great
gathering of their consorts. I don't know the name of the place, but it
is on the east coast. More water!”
Gervaise knelt to pour some water between his lips, when he gave a
sudden cry, a shudder ran through his frame, and he was dead.
“Let us return on board, gentlemen,” Gervaise said, rising to his feet.
“We can do nothing here.”
As soon as he regained the deck of the galley, he signed to Ralph to
follow him below.
“Now, Ralph,” he said, “this is one of those cases in which we have to
decide whether we ought or ought not to be prudent. From what that poor
fellow said, the pirates have about five hours' start of us, and as they
can have no idea that they are pursued, we can doubtless overtake them
before they reach Sardinia. The question is, ought we to pursue them at
once, or ought we to coast along until we find Visconti's galley? Three
of these Tripoli pirates, crowded as they always are with men, would
prove serious opponents, yet we might engage them with a fair hope of
victory. But we may be seriously disabled in the fight, and should be,
perhaps, unable to carry the news to Genoa that there are many pirate
ships gathering on the coast of Sardinia to prey upon their commerce.”
“We might be days, or even weeks, before we light upon Visconti's
galley, Gervaise, and even when we found it, he might not consider
himself justified in leaving the coast where he is stationed. Besides,
while we are spending our time looking for him, the pirates will be
committing terrible depredations. It must be a big expedition, under
some notorious pirate, or they would never venture so far north.”
“Then you think that I should be justified in pursuing them alone. It is
a fearful responsibility to have to decide.”
“I think so, Gervaise. There is no saying what misfortunes might happen
if we did not venture to do so.”
“Very well then, so be it. But before deciding finally on so grave a
matter, I will lay it before the company.”
“There is no doubt as to what their decision will be,” Ralph said, with
a smile.
“Perhaps not, Ralph; but as they will be called upon to risk their lives
in a dangerous enterprise, it is as well that they should have a say in
the matter.”
When they returned on to the poop, there was an expression of eagerness
and excitement on the faces of the young knights which showed how
anxiously they had been awaiting the result of the conference below.
Gervaise stepped on to a bench, and motioned to them to close up round
him.
“Comrades,” he said, “although the responsibility of whatever course may
be taken must rest upon my shoulders, yet I think it but right that,
as a general before a battle often calls a council of war to assist him
with its advice, so I should lay before you the two courses open to us,
and ask your opinion upon them. Sir Ralph Harcourt and I are of one mind
in the matter, but as the decision is a grave one we should be loath to
act upon it without your concurrence.”
He then repeated the alternatives as he had laid them before Ralph.
“Now,” he went on, “as you see, there is grave danger, and much risk
in the one course; but if successful its advantages are obvious. On
the other hand, the second plan is more sure, more prudent, and more in
accordance with the instructions I have received. I ask you to let me
know frankly your opinion on the subject. If your view agrees with ours,
although it will not relieve me from the responsibility of deciding,
it will at least, in the event of things turning out badly, be a
satisfaction to know that the course had your approval, and that it was
your desire, as well as ours, that we should undertake it. First, then,
let all who are in favour of following the pirates go to the starboard
side of the deck, while those who are in favour of joining Visconti, and
laying this serious matter we have discovered before him, move to the
larboard side.”
There was a rush of the knights to the right, and not one moved to the
other side.
“Your decision is the same as ours,” Gervaise said. “To the north, then!
If there is great peril in the adventure, there is also great honour to
be gained.”
The knights gave a shout of satisfaction at finding that their choice
was also that of the officers.
“Lay her head to the north,” Gervaise said to the pilot. Then he went
to the end of the poop, and ordered the slaves to row on. “Row a long,
steady stroke, such as you can maintain for many hours. We have a long
journey before us, and there is need for haste. Now is the time for
willing work.”
The oars dipped into the water, and the galley was soon moving along
at a much faster pace than that at which they had performed the journey
from Rhodes. The slaves had not, from their benches, been able to see
what had passed on board the dismantled vessel, but from the order and
the change of course, they had no doubt that the knights had obtained
some clue to the direction taken by the corsairs who had captured and
sacked the ship.
“There is but little wind,” Gervaise said to Ralph, “and their sails
will be of slight use to them; therefore we shall go fully three feet to
their two. It is quite possible that we may not catch sight of them,
for we cannot tell exactly the course they will take. We shall steer for
Cape Carbonara, which is some hundred and thirty miles distant. If we
do not see them by the time we get there, we shall be sure that we have
passed them on the way, unless, indeed, a strong wind should spring up
from the south. However, I hope that we shall catch sight of them before
that, for we shall be able from our lookout to discover their masts and
sails some eight or ten miles away, while they will not be able to see
us until we are within half that distance. They cannot be more than
twenty miles away now, for the light breeze will aid them but little,
and as they will see no occasion for haste, they will not be rowing at
their full power, with so long a passage before them.”
Already, indeed, one of the knights had perched himself on the seat at
the top of a low mast some fifteen feet above the poop, that served as a
lookout.
“You can see nothing yet, I suppose, Cairoli?”
“No; the line of sea is clear all round.”
It was indeed some four hours before the knight on the lookout cried
that he could make out three dark specks on the horizon. Gervaise at
once ascended to the lookout, by the ladder that was fixed against the
post.
“They are making to the left of the course we are taking. Turn her head
rather more to the west. That will do. They are directly ahead now.” He
then came down to the deck again. “I would that we had seven or eight
more hours of daylight, Ralph, instead of but three at the outside.
However, as we know the course they are taking, we are not likely to
miss them, for as we shall not be near enough for them to make us out
before the sun sets, there will be no chance of their changing it. Do
you think they will row all night?”
“I should not think so. If the land were nearer they might keep on until
they make it, but as they have had no wind since daylight, they will lie
on their oars until morning. You see, at sunset they will still be some
eighty miles from Cape Carbonara, and the slaves could not possibly row
that distance without rest; so that if we keep on we may take them by
surprise.”
“That is what I have been thinking, Ralph, but it would be well not to
attack them until nearly daybreak. We should capture one galley easily
enough; but the others, being ignorant of our force, might make off in
different directions, and we might lose both of them. If, on the other
hand, we could fall upon them a short time before daylight, we should be
able to keep them in sight, and, even if they separated, they would soon
come together and continue their course, or, as I hope, when they see
that we are alone, bear up and fight us. I think that our best plan will
be to row on until it is dark, then give the slaves six hours' rest, and
after that go on quietly. If we can make them out, which we may do if
they have lights on board, we will stop, and wait until it is the hour
to attack them. If we miss them, we will row on to Sardinia and lie up,
as we proposed, until they come along.”
“I think that will be a very good plan, Gervaise.”
Before sunset the three pirate ships could be clearly made out from the
deck, but the pilot judged them to be fully ten miles away. Half an hour
later the slaves were told to cease rowing. Gervaise had ordered the
cooks to prepare them a good meal, and this was at once served, together
with a full ration of wine. As soon as they had consumed it, they were
told to lie down and sleep, as at one o'clock the galley would be again
under way.
The knights' supper was served below, as lights on the poop might be
made out, should a lookout be placed by the corsairs in their tops.
“We had better follow the example of the galley slaves,” Gervaise said,
rising as soon as the meal was finished, “and, with the exception of
Spain, who is on watch, turn in to sleep till we are off again. All of
you will, of course, don your armour on rising.”
At the appointed hour the galley was again under way. There was not a
breath of air, and before starting, pieces of cloth were wrapped round
the oars at the rowlocks to deaden the sound, which might otherwise have
been heard at a considerable distance on so still a night. After an hour
and a half's rowing, the knight on the lookout said that he could see a
light some distance ahead. The pilot, an experienced old sailor, joined
him, and speedily descended to the poop again.
“It is a ship's light,” he said. “I should say that it was a lantern on
board the ship of the captain of the expedition, and is shown to enable
the other two to keep near him. I cannot say how far it is away, for
I do not know at what height it hangs above the water; but I should
imagine, from the feebleness of the light, that it must be some two
miles distant.”
As soon as the light had been noticed, the slaves had been ordered to
cease rowing, and they were now told that they would not be required
again for fully two hours. When the first gleam of dawn appeared in
the east they were called to their work again. The lantern was still
burning, and, in a quarter of an hour, the knights on the poop were
able, in the broadening light, to make out three shadowy forms some
two miles ahead of them. They decreased this distance by more than half
before they could discern any signs of life or motion on board. Then
a sudden stir was apparent; they could hear shouts from one vessel to
another, oars were thrust out, and an effort made to get the heads of
the ships in the same direction, so as to catch the light breeze that
had just sprung up.
The moment he saw that the galley was discovered, Gervaise shouted down
to the slaves to row their hardest, and told the pilot to steer for the
ship farthest to the east. She was some four or five hundred yards from
her nearest consort, and the same distance separated that vessel from
the third craft.
“We shall have time to carry her, Ralph, before the others come to her
assistance, and they will only arrive one at a time. If we were to lie
alongside the middle craft, which is probably that of the chief, as it
is she that has the light burning, we might have the other two upon us
before we had done with her, for she is evidently the largest, and most
likely the strongest handed, of them.”
The leader of the pirates evidently saw that there was no chance of
evading the fight. A flag was run up to the masthead of his ship, and
the three vessels began to endeavour to turn, so as to meet the galley.
The operation, however, took some time. In the confusion, orders were
misunderstood, and instead of all the slaves on one side rowing whilst
those on the other side backed, all order was lost, and long before the
craft for which the galley was making had got round, the latter was upon
her.
“Shall I ram her, Sir Gervaise?” the pilot asked.
“No; we might damage ourselves; besides, I do not want to sink her.
Sheer away the oars on one side!”
The galley carried eight guns--three on each side of the poop, and two
forward; and these had been loaded with small pieces of iron. A few
shots had been fired by the pirates, but, owing to the confusion that
prevailed on board, the guns were discharged so hurriedly that the shot
either flew overhead or passed wide of the galley. Excited as the young
knights were, and eager for the fray, a general laugh broke out as the
galley swept along by the pirate ship, breaking many of her oars, and
hurling all the slaves who manned them backwards off their benches. A
moment later the guns poured their iron contents among the pirates who
clustered thickly on the forecastle and poop, and as the vessels grated
together the knights sprang on board the corsair.
The members of the English langue had each been provided with short
pieces of rope, and before joining their companions in the fray they
lashed the vessels together, side by side. The fight was a very short
one. France and Auvergne, led by Ralph Harcourt, boarded at the bow, the
other five langues at the poop; and so impetuous was their onset that
the pirates, who had still scarce recovered from their surprise at being
hastily aroused from sleep to repel the attack of the foe who had so
suddenly sprung out from the darkness upon them, offered but a feeble
resistance. Many threw themselves overboard, and swam to the ship
nearest to them; others were cut down; and the rest flung away their
arms, and cried for quarter.
All who did so were, without the loss of a minute's time, thrown down
into the hold of their ship, and the hatches secured over them. It had
before been arranged that Ralph should take the command of the corsair,
having with him France, Auvergne, and Germany. As soon, therefore, as
the captives were fastened below, Gervaise called the knights of the
other four langues back to the deck of the galley. The lashings were
cast off, she was pushed from the side of the prize, and the oars were
got out. There was no time to be lost, for the largest of the three
pirate ships, which had, directly it was seen that her consort
was captured, poured two heavy broadsides into the prize, was now
approaching--rowing but slowly, however, for the third vessel to come
up.
She was but a hundred yards away when the galley swept round the bow of
the prize and advanced to meet her. As she did so, Ralph discharged the
eight guns of the prize, which he had at once reloaded, into the bow of
the corsair, the shot raking the crowded deck from end to end. When but
a few yards distant, the two bow guns of the galley poured in a shower
of missiles, and a moment later she ran alongside the pirate, the poop
guns, as before, preparing the way for the boarders. But no sooner had
they leapt on deck than they were met by the pirates, headed by their
captain.
Gervaise had specially charged the knights not to allow themselves to
be carried away by their ardour. “We are sure to be greatly outnumbered,
and, when we first spring on board, we must cut our way across the deck,
and then form ourselves in a double or treble line across it, and, so
fighting, gradually force them before us.”
This, in spite of the efforts of the pirates, was accomplished, and,
once formed, the corsairs strove in vain to break through the wall
of steel. For a time, however, no forward movement could be made, so
furious were the attacks upon them, led by the pirate chief. Several
times breaches were made in the front rank, but the knights behind each
time bore back the assault, and restored the line. The knights had won
their way half along the poop when a yell of exultation rose from the
corsairs as the third of their vessels rowed up on the other side of the
galley, and her crew sprang on board it. Gervaise called the knights of
the second line from their places, and ranged them along the bulwark, to
prevent the Moors from boarding from the poop of the galley.
Then for a moment he looked round. The prize was creeping up, and was a
length or two away, coming up alongside. Its approach was also noticed
by the pirates, who, with wild shouts, flung themselves upon their
opponents. Gervaise sprang forward to take the place of a young Italian
knight, who staggered back, with his helmet cleft by a heavy blow from
the keen yataghan of the pirate captain. The corsair, shouting his war
cry of “Allah!” sprang with the bound of a wild cat upon Gervaise; his
weapon descended on his uplifted guard, and shore right through the
stout blade. With a shout of triumph, the corsair raised his arm to
repeat the blow; but Gervaise in turn sprang forward, and struck with
all his force with the pommel of his sword on the forehead of his
opponent. The latter fell as if shot, his weapon dropping from his hand
beside him.
Dismayed at the fall of their leader, his followers recoiled for a
moment. Another tall pirate sprang forward to take his place, and,
shouting to them to follow, was about to throw himself upon Gervaise,
when a gun crashed out close alongside. A storm of iron swept away the
front line of Moors, and the shout of “St. John!” “St. John!” rose above
the din. It was one of the bow guns of the prize, and as she swept along
gun after gun poured its contents among the pirates.
“Do you clear the galley, Ralph. We can manage here now,” Gervaise said,
as Ralph leapt on board. The latter, followed by his party of knights,
rushed across the poop, and sprang on to the galley among the pirates,
who had been striving in vain to break through the line of defenders.
Gervaise called to his party to follow him, and, taking the offensive,
fell upon the remnant of the corsairs who still held the forward end of
the poop.
The discharge of the cannon at such close quarters had wrought terrible
havoc among them, and the pirates, with but slight resistance, turned,
and either ran down the ladder or leapt into the water. The knights
followed them forward among the benches of the rowers, who cheered
loudly in many tongues as they passed them. At the forecastle the Moors
made another stand, but the knights forced their way up, and in two
minutes all was over.
“Now to the aid of our comrades!” Gervaise shouted, as the last of the
corsairs was struck down.
Ralph's party had indeed cleared the poop of the galley, but they in
vain endeavoured to climb up on to that of the third pirate ship, whose
superior height gave a great advantage to its defenders. Gervaise leapt
down on to the bow of the galley, followed by the knights, and then ran
aft until he could climb into the waist of the pirate. So intent were
the corsairs upon defending the poop that they did not see what was
going on elsewhere, and Gervaise had obtained a fair footing before he
was noticed. Then a number of men ran down and attacked his party. But
it was too late, for the whole of the knights had, by this time, leaped
on board. Their assailants were forced back, and, pressing close upon
them, the knights gained the poop before the main body of the pirates
were aware of their coming.
Warned by the shouts and shrieks of their comrades that they had been
taken in the rear, the Moslems who were defending the side of the poop
wavered for a moment. Ralph took advantage of their hesitation, and
sprang on board, his companions pouring in after him. There was a
stern and desperate fight. The Moslems fought with the fury of despair,
disdaining to ask or accept quarter. A few leapt overboard, preferring
death by drowning to that by the swords of the Christians; but the great
majority died fighting to the last. A shout of triumph rose from the
knights as the last of the Moslems fell.
The first impulse of all of them was to take off their helmets in order
to breathe the fresh air, and for a while they all stood panting from
their exertions.
“Nobly and gallantly done, comrades!” Gervaise exclaimed. “This is
indeed a victory of which we have all a right to be proud. Now, the
first thing is to free the slaves of their shackles; there are many
white faces among them. Let our langue look after the wounded, while the
released captives clear the decks of the bodies of the fallen pirates.”
It took an hour's hard work to knock off the chains of the slaves. The
greater portion of them were Christians--Greeks, Italians, Spaniards,
and French, who had been captured in various raids by the corsairs; and
among them were the crew of the ship that had been overhauled by the
galley on the previous day. Besides these, there were a few Moslems who
had been sentenced to labour in the galleys for various crimes.
Among the Christians, the joy at their liberation was intense. Some
laughed, some cried, others were too overcome to speak coherently. Among
the rest were found, to the intense pleasure of their rescuers, three
knights of the Order who had for years been missing. They had been taken
prisoners on an island at which the galley to which they belonged
had touched. Many of the knights had landed, and three of them, all
belonging to the langue of Italy, had wandered away from the rest, and
had not returned. A search had been made for them, and it was discovered
that a struggle had taken place. As there were no marks of blood, it
was supposed that they were suddenly pounced upon by a party of hidden
marauders, who had been watching them from some hiding place, and had
thrown themselves upon the knights before they had had time to draw
their swords. Following the trail by bushes broken down, and plants
crushed under foot, it was found to lead to a creek on the other side
of the island. Here there were signs that a craft had been anchored,
as there were the ashes of fires, fragments of food, and other matters,
scattered about on the shore. Hours had passed before the knights had
been missed, and therefore the craft in which they had been carried off
was long out of sight. Letters were written by the grand master to
the Pasha of Syria, to the Emperor of Egypt, and to the Bey of Tunis,
offering to ransom the knights, but all replied that they were unaware
of any such captives having been landed.
An attempt had then been made to ascertain whether they had been carried
to Tripoli; but the bey had little authority over the various tribesmen
along the coast, and only replied that no such captives had been sold in
the city. Thus all hope of ransoming them had died away, and their names
were inscribed in the list of those who had fallen into the hands of the
infidels, but of whose subsequent fate no clue could be obtained.
All were greatly emaciated, and their faces showed signs of the
sufferings they had undergone. The young knights were all familiar
with their names, but personally none had known them, for they had been
carried off two or three months before Gervaise and Ralph Harcourt had
arrived at Rhodes.
All three had struggled desperately to break their chains while the
fight was going on, and had, as soon as the contest was decided, risen
to their feet and shouted the battle cry of the Order; then, overcome by
their emotions, they sank down upon their benches, and remained as if
in a stupor until the knights, who had hurried first to them, struck
off their fetters. Then the three men grasped each other's hands, while
tears streamed down their cheeks.
“It is no dream, comrades,” one of them said, in a hoarse voice. “We are
free again. Let us first return thanks to God for our release, and then
we can thank these our brothers.”
The three knights knelt at the benches where they had toiled and
suffered, and hid their faces in their hands. No sounds came from their
lips, but their stifled sobs and the heaving of their naked shoulders,
seamed and scarred by the strokes of their taskmasters' whips, told
the young knights, who stood unhelmeted and silent around, how deep was
their emotion. Then they rose.
“I am Fabricius Caretto,” one said; “this is Giacomo Da Vinci; this
Pietro Forzi: all knight commanders of the Order, and now for six years
prisoners in the hands of these corsairs. Assuredly no one would know
us, so changed are we.” He looked round inquiringly for a familiar face.
“Your commander must surely be a comrade of ours?”
“We know all your names,” Gervaise said, coming forward, “though none
of us reached the convent until after your capture. I have the honour
to command this galley. My name is Gervaise Tresham, and I have for my
lieutenant Sir Ralph Harcourt. All of us, glad as we are at the capture
we have effected of these three corsairs, are still more pleased that we
should have been the means of rescuing three noble knights of our Order
from captivity. Now, I pray you first of all to accompany me on
board the galley, where we will do all we can to make you forget the
sufferings you have gone through. After you have bathed, and reclad
yourselves, I will present to you the knights my comrades, amongst whom
are seven of your own langue. Three of these I will tell off to see to
your comfort, for, as you will understand, I have my hands full indeed
at present.”
“First, before all things, Sir Knight, let me express to you all our
deep gratitude and our admiration of the gallant deed that you have
accomplished in thus, single handed, capturing three vessels belonging
to the fiercest and most dreaded of the corsairs of Tripoli. God bless
you all, sirs”--and his voice broke again--“for the deed you have done,
and for bringing us out of this living hell!”
Gervaise called to three of the Italian knights, and, followed by them
and the released captives, led the way to the galley. Here he left them
in charge of their countrymen. “Give them each a draught of old Cyprus,
and something to eat,” he said aside to one of the knights; “they sorely
need refreshment before aught else, for, as you see, they are well nigh
dazed with this unlooked for change. I will put out clothes enough
for one of them; the others you must supply for the present from your
stores. Now I must be off.”
There was indeed much to be done. Four of the knights were told off to
attend upon the most urgent cases among their own wounded. Only two of
their number had been killed outright, but there were four serious cases
among the wounded, while eight or ten others had received wounds that
required bandaging and attending to. As fast as the slaves' fetters
were struck off, food and wine were given to them, together with such
garments as could be found at the moment. Then the bodies of the fallen
pirates were thrown overboard, while the wounded were attended to, and
the released Christians were divided equally between the three prizes.
To each of these the knights of one of the langues were told off, the
seniors being appointed to the command. There were in all some ninety
Christian captives on board the three ships. Thus each vessel had a
complement of seven knights and thirty Christians, and to these were
added ten of the thirty Moslems found at the oars, and fifteen of the
pirates to whom quarter had been given.
It was past noon before all these arrangements had been made, and during
the time so occupied, the ships lay idly side by side, drifting slowly
before the wind, the sails having been lowered as soon as the struggle
was over. Up to this time, the knights had been too busily engaged to
think of food, but they were right glad when they were summoned to a
meal on board the galley.
Gervaise found the three knights in the cabin, dressed in the usual
attire of the Order. They presented a very different appearance, indeed,
to that which they wore when he had first seen them. They had bathed,
and combed their matted hair, which was alone sufficient to transform
them, but the feeling that they were once more free men, and knights of
an honoured Order, had done even more to effect the change; and although
they looked thin and worn, the martial bearing had come back naturally
as they donned their knightly robes and buckled on swords.
“I am glad to see that you are better,” Gervaise said, as he went up to
greet them. “Twenty years seem to have dropped off your shoulders since
this morning.”
“We are not the same men, Sir Gervaise. We were slaves, and are now
free. We were Christian dogs; now we are Christian knights. We were
subject to scoffs and blows; now, thank God, we have swords to strike
with, and though as yet our arms may not have regained their full
strength, we could at least bear a share in a fray. Our comrades have
been telling us somewhat of how this wonderful thing has come about,
and have been explaining what at first filled us with surprise, that a
galley should be manned solely by young knights, of whom their commander
is one of the youngest. We can testify, at least, that had the grand
master been himself in command, and his crew composed of veteran
knights, he could have done no better.”
“We were fortunate in taking them so much by surprise that the first of
their ships fell into our hands before her consorts could come to her
assistance; and her guns did us good service in our struggle with the
others.”
“The matter was well arranged, as well as gallantly fought,” one of the
other knights said. “Had you first fallen foul of the chief's galley,
it would have gone hard with you, for his crew were so strong that you
could scarce have overcome them before the other two vessels came up to
his assistance.”
“Now let us to our meal,” Gervaise said.
The three knights were placed at the head of the table by him, and it
was pleasant to see how they enjoyed their food.
“I can scarce persuade myself that I am not dreaming,” Caretto said.
“Sometimes, when lying at night, wet through with the damp air, I have
wondered to myself whether I could ever have lived thus, and whether
I should ever exchange my hard bread and water for what seemed to me
fabulous luxuries, though at the time one had taken them as a matter of
course. You cannot tell how strange it feels to me to come back to the
old life again.”
“You will soon be accustomed to it,” Gervaise said, with a smile, “and
then you will look upon your captivity as a dream, just as you then
regarded your past life.”
“I suppose, Sir Gervaise,” Pietro Forzi said, “that you will sail direct
for Rhodes with your prizes?”
“No indeed,” Gervaise replied. “At the same time that we learned, from a
dying man left on board the ship the pirates captured yesterday, of
the course they had taken, and were so enabled to follow them, we also
learned that they were on their way to join a corsair fleet that was
collecting at some point on the eastern side of Sardinia, with the
intention of sweeping the coast of Italy. It was this, rather than the
capture of these three vessels, that induced us to disobey the general
instructions we had been given to cruise along the northern coast of
Africa, and determined us to push north to give warning along the coast
from Naples to Genoa of the danger that threatened, and, if possible, to
enable Genoa to fit out her galleys to encounter the corsairs. That duty
has still to be fulfilled, though I fear that Genoa will be able to
do little, for of late she has been engaged in a long civil struggle
between her great families, and has taken but a small part in maritime
affairs. However, we can at least warn her, as well as Naples, Pisa,
and other towns, and may possibly find some opportunity for ourselves
striking another blow against the pirates.”
“If so, certainly we shall be glad to accompany you, if you will allow
us to serve under you; for nothing would please us so much as the
opportunity of paying off a small share of the vengeance we owe them.
But of course, if you would rather, we will sail for Rhodes in the
prizes.”
“I am not thinking of sending them to Rhodes at present,” Gervaise said.
“It seems to me that we may be able, in some way, to utilise them to
advantage. They have their sails, and rowers for the oars. There will
be, in each, besides seven knights of the Order, thirty men who, like
yourselves, must feel willing to strike a blow at their late oppressors.
I need hardly say that I shall be glad indeed to have the company and
aid of three such well known knights of the Order, and would, could I
do so, gladly resign my command into your experienced hands. But this
I cannot do, and, anticipating that you would be willing to join us in
this expedition, I have been thinking how I could best utilise your aid.
I have thought that, if you would accept the positions, I would appoint
one of you to each of the prizes, to act, not as its commander, but as
the leader of the band of released captives. Most of them are sailors,
of course, and with them you could work the guns and give effective aid
to the little party of knights in any actual fight.”
The three knights all exclaimed that they would gladly accept the posts
he offered them.
“The idea is a capital one, Sir Gervaise; and, as long as it does
not come to close fighting, the three ships should be able to render
efficient aid to your galley in any encounter. They will be, at any
rate, a match for their own number of pirate ships,” Caretto said.
As soon as the meal concluded, the Moslem captives were questioned one
by one as to the rendezvous at which the pirate fleet was to assemble;
all, however, protested that the place was known only to the three
commanders, all of whom had fallen in the fight.