LA GALERE GRANDE REALE.
The July sun blazed down upon the sea which lay beneath it as
unruffled as an artificial lake inland; there was no ripple on the
water as far as the eye could see; above the water to the northwest
there rose the chalky cliffs between Whitby and Scarborough--a white,
hazy line over which a few fleecy clouds were massed together. Upon
the water, three miles out from those cliffs, a dark blot, which grew
larger and clearer moment by moment, and proved to be--when seen
through the perspective glasses of the officers on board a French
galley which was further out to sea and rapidly retreating from the
English coast--one of King William's men-of-war.
A French galley rapidly retreating from the English coast, of the
style known as La Grande Reale, and named L'Idole. On board of her six
hundred and seventy souls, comprising a first and second captain, a
lieutenant and sub-lieutenant, an ensign, also a major general, some
standard bearers, a commissary general, one or two volunteer officers,
over one hundred soldiers and seventy sailors, a number of subaltern
officers and ship boys, and--three hundred and sixty galley slaves and
sixty Turkish slaves.
A life of hell was this of the galley to all on board her when at
sea--even to those in command! Neither first nor second captain,
neither major nor commissary general, nor even volunteer
officers--often members of the oldest and most aristocratic families
of France--could ever lie down to sleep on board, for the sufficient
reason that in the confined space there was no room for bed, cot, nor
berth. Rest had to be taken by these superiors either when sitting on
ordinary chairs placed on the poop cabin, or in armchairs if such were
on board--their clothes on, their arms by their side. For not only was
there no room for anything in the shape or nature of a bed, but also
the galleys were rarely at sea except in time of open war, when at any
moment they might be engaged in action. Truly, a life of hell!
Yet, if to the superiors such miseries came and had to be endured;
such want of sleep, such constant necessity for watchfulness, such
poor, coarse food as alone the galley could find room to carry--bacon,
salt beef, salt cod, cheese, oil, and rice, with a small pot of wine
daily, being their allowance--what of those wretches who propelled her
when there was no wind, the galley slaves? What was their existence?
Let us see!
Bound to the labouring oar--itself of enormous size and weight, being
fifty feet long--seven _condamnes_ to each oar, they sat at sixty
benches, thirty on each side, four hundred and twenty men in all,
including Turkish slaves. Naked they rowed for hours chained to these
benches--sometimes for twenty-four hours at a stretch--while the
_comites_, or overseers, men brutal beyond all thought and chosen for
the post because of their natural ferocity, belaboured their backs
with whips made of twisted and knotted cords. If they fainted under
these continuous thrashings, their backs were rubbed with vinegar and
salt water to revive them; if they were found to have died under their
chastisement, the chains and rings round their legs were taken off and
they were flung into the sea like carrion as they were. Then another
man took their place, there being always a reserve of these unhappy
creatures.
To see them would have wrung the hearts of all but those who dominated
them. Their naked backs had upon them wheals, sores, old and new,
scars and cicatrices; their faces were burnt black from the effects of
the suns, the diverse winds, and the sprays under which and through
which they rowed _en perpetuite_--since most were doomed for life;
their hair was long and matted with their beards, when they were not
old men who had grown bald in their lifelong toil and misery.
Moreover, they were nearly starved, their daily food being twenty-six
ounces of coarse and often weevily biscuit, and four ounces of beans a
day--or rather "pigeon peas"--with water. And if any swooned from
their long hours of rowing (hours only relieved by a favourable wind
springing up, when the small sails could be set), in contradistinction
to their fainting from the brutalities of the _comites_, then there
was placed in their mouths a piece of bread moistened with salt water
or vinegar, or sour and sharp wine, either of which was supposed to be
an excellent reviver.
All were distinguished by numbers and none by name, though, in
occasional moments that could be snatched from under the watchful eyes
and ears of the _comites_, the doomed wretches could sometimes
acquaint each other with their names, former positions in life, and
supposed reasons for being condemned to their perpetual slavery. But
not often, for a word spoken and overheard brought terrible
retribution in its train, especially as in nine times out of ten
religion was both the cause for which they suffered and by which they
were punished. The galley slaves were in general Protestants who would
not embrace the Roman Catholic faith, while the superior officers and
the overseers were ardent papists. Yet there were others who, in
ordinary eyes, though not in those of their taskmasters, would have
been deemed to be sunk in crimes worse than that of being Huguenots.
No. 512 was a murderer--of his own father; No. 497 had been caught
giving information to England, he being a fisherman, of the
whereabouts of Jean Bart's flotilla; No. 36 had cursed the king and
his family--a truly awful crime; No. 98 had robbed a church, and so
on. But in the eyes of the law, which was the king, or rather the
reformed and married wanton, De Maintenon, none were so vile, none
deserved such bitter punishment and bastinadoing, and rubbing in of
vinegar and salt in their wounds, and starvation, as the pestilential
heretics.
The black spot on the horizon grew larger to the view of the officers
standing aft on the _coursier_, or raised fore-and-aft passage of the
galley, which ran between the larboard and starboard gangs of rowers,
and across which they were hourly stretched to be bastinadoed by their
fellow-slaves, the Turks; and those officers by no means appreciated
the increasing size of that spot. It showed that the English frigate
was overhauling the French galley. The latter, low down in the water
though it was, and with its two sails furled, had been seen by the
former and the pursuit had begun. Fortunate for the galley, and
unfortunate for the miserable slaves whose lives were a curse to them,
if she escaped that frigate now following it so rapidly!
"Row! row!" howled the _comites_, as they rushed up and down the
gangways of the benches, striking the bare backs of the _vogueurs_, or
row-slaves, till they were all crimson with blood. "Row! In time! in
time! Beware, all you," cried one, as bench 12 rowed wildly, while the
lash fell on all their backs in consequence; "will you impede the
galley's course? _Carogne!_" (a common oath), "you wish the accursed
English to take us--foul Protestants like yourselves!"
"Ay," replied one slave on that bench, a man known as 211--"ay. Pray
God they take us or sink us! In the next world we shall not be
chained, nor you free. The chances will be equal."
The lash fell on his back as he spoke, raised a new wheal to keep
company with the others already there, and then the _comite_ passed
on, thrashing and belabouring all the others on his side of the ship,
and howling and bawling and blaspheming at them.
Meanwhile the black spot became a large blur on the blue water; now
her royals were visible, white and bright against the equally clear
blue sky. She was sailing down the galley,
"Have a care, 211," muttered the _galerien_ next to him--"have a care.
If we escape the English ship with life, your existence will be a
greater hell than before for those words!"
211 threw his matted hair back from his eyes with a jerk of his
head--his hands he could not release from the oar--and looked at his
neighbour. He was a man burnt black with the sun, thin, emaciated, and
half starved. On his shoulders, where they caught hourly the cords of
the _comite's_ whip, great scars, and livid--as well as raw--wounds;
yet still young and with handsome features.
"We shall not escape," he replied. "She gains on us each moment.
See!" and as their faces were naturally directed aft of the galley,
they could observe, through the great scuttle by the poops, the
frigate rising larger each instant behind them.
"Better even this than death," said the other. "We know where we are
now, at least--who knows where we shall be? Hist! he returns."
Again the _comite_ ran along the gangway, dealing out more blows and
curses, each of these men getting their share. Then, when the hoarse,
foul voice of the overseer was heard at the other end of the hundred
and eighty feet long galere Grand Reale, No. 211 answered him.
"No," he said, "death is better than this. It is peace at least."
"You seek it--hope for it?"
"Ay," No. 211 replied, "pray for it. Hourly!"
"What was your crime?" his companion asked. They had been chained
together for two days only, the slave whose place the questioner now
filled having been beaten to death, and this, in the excitement of the
impending attack, was their first opportunity of conversing.
"Nothing."
The other grinned. Then he exclaimed, "We all say that."
"Most of us say true."
"It is put about," the other went on, "that you are English yourself,
like our pursuers. Is that true?"
"Partly. Henceforth, if ever I escape, wholly so. That or death,
somehow."
On the _coursier_ there arose more noise and confusion now. The
English frigate was nearing them; they could see with the perspective
glasses her guns being run out on the lower tiers, so as better to
sweep the galley; the course must be altered or their whole larboard
side would be raked when once the frigate was on their beam. Therefore
the chief captain gave his orders for the usual tactics of the galleys
in an engagement to be pursued--they were to turn and "ram" the
pursuers.
The first vessels of comparative modern warfare to utilize what is now
known as the "ram" were the French galleys, they having at their prow
or stern a long _eperon_, as it was termed, projecting from the deck
above the water, and occupying the place of a bowsprit. Being far
lower in the water than the ship, this spur was, consequently, in the
exact position where it could inflict terrible damage; it struck a
vessel of any size below the water line. And to add to the injury
which a galley could do in thus advancing to meet an enemy "end on,"
there were behind this spur two huge gun forts in which were five
bronze cannons of large calibre. As they rammed, therefore, propelled
by hundreds of galley slaves, they fired also, and as the charge used
was that known as _a mitraille_--viz., a metal case filled with balls
of various sizes and pieces of iron, which exploded as it struck, the
wounds inflicted in any ship were terribly effective. Moreover, the
galley which advanced this presented but a small object for attack,
the breadth or beam being never more than forty-eight feet at the
broadest.
The order was given, the larboard side _galeriens_ backed water, the
starboard side pulled lustily, assisted and urged on by both the whips
and oaths of the _comites_ and by the alteration of the helm, and
slowly--for it was a long business to turn so lengthy a fabric as
L'Idole--the galley wore round to meet her pursuer.
She would not have done so could she have escaped by flight, but that
was impossible. Even four hundred and twenty galley slaves, Christian
and Turk, could not propel her as fast as the lightest breeze could
move the great frigate. Moreover, they were caught unawares since they
happened to be alone instead of, as was almost always the case, in
company with half a dozen other galleys. Their companions had that
morning gone in chase of a Dutch merchantman whose mainmast had
broken, so that she could only proceed slowly, and L'Idole was being
sent back to Dunkirk when observed and chased by the English
man-of-war. She had, therefore, to fight and beat the enemy or be sunk
and every man on board of her be slain--certainly every man not a
slave. For the British sailor of those days so hated the French
galleys, in which he knew well enough men of his own faith were kept
and tortured, that he spared none in authority in those vessels
whenever the chance to slay them arose. Nor, indeed, did he always
spare the Protestant slaves themselves in the heat of an engagement.
They were fighting against England, and that was enough for him.
"_Saperlote!_" exclaimed the captain of the galley to the
_maitre-canonnier_, by whose side he now stood in the fore part of the
galley, "the _cochons_ will not be pierced! See how they change course
with us! _Grand Dieu!_ they have our beam. To your guns, at once! What
will they do now?"
What they would do in the frigate was obvious. _Their_ master gunner
was also busy at his work; they could see his figure with the linstock
in his hand, or could rather catch the gleam of the linstock itself,
as he moved behind his gun ports. A moment later what he did was
equally obvious. He ran along his tier, firing his cannon. Then there
was a crash, followed by another, and another, and another, as cannon
after cannon were discharged and the balls smashed into the galley.
Some swept the _coursier_, cutting down the captain, two of the
blaspheming and brutal _comites_, and the _aumonier_, or chaplain--who
was encouraging the Protestant and Turkish slaves by reciting the
Catholic service to them. Half a dozen more balls struck the benches
of the _galeriens_, wounding and killing one fifth of them, smashing
even the chains by which some were bound to their seats, even smashing
the benches themselves, and taking off legs and arms and heads. Then
by a quick and masterly manoeuvre the frigate altered course, came
round on the other side, and repeated the broadside with her other
tier.
As that was delivered, and a moment afterward her boats were lowered,
filled with sailors to board L'Idole, the galley heeled over and began
to sink.
And No. 211 muttered, as with a jerk from the lurching craft he was
thrown into the sea, "Thank God, the end has come!"[6]
[Footnote 6: The description of the galley is taken from Memoirs d'un
Protestant condamne aux Galeres de France, and written by one Jean
Marteidhe. It was published in Rotterdam in 1757, and again in Paris,
by the Societe des Ecoles du Dimanche, in 1865 and 1881, and is
perhaps the best account in existence of the sufferings and terrible
existence of French galley slaves. It is also well known in the
translations by Oliver Goldsmith, a reprint of which, edited by W.
Austin Dobson, has just appeared.]