A SLAVE IN BARBARY.
The _Tarifa_ had left port but a few hours when a strong wind rose from
the north, and rapidly increased in violence until it was blowing a
gale.
"Inez is terribly ill," Gerald said when he met Geoffrey on deck the
following morning. "I believe at the present moment she would face her
father and risk everything if she could but be put on shore."
"I can well imagine that. However, she will think otherwise to-morrow
or next day. I believe these Mediterranean storms do not last long.
There is no fear of six weeks of bad weather such as we had when we
were last afloat together."
"No. I have just been speaking to the captain. He says they generally
blow themselves out in two or three days; but still, even that is not a
pleasant look-out. These vessels are not like your English craft, which
seem to be able to sail almost in the eye of the wind. They are
lubberly craft, and badly handled; and if this gale lasts for three
days we shall be down on the Barbary coast, and I would rather risk
another journey through Spain than get down so near the country of the
Moors."
"I can understand that," Geoffrey agreed. "However, I see there are
some thirty soldiers forward on their way to join one of the regiments
in Naples, so we ought to be able to beat off any corsair that might
come near us.
"Yes; but if we got down on their coast we might be attacked by half a
dozen of them," Gerald said. "However, one need not begin to worry
one's self at present; the gale may abate within a few hours."
At the end of the second day the wind went down suddenly; and through
the night the vessel rolled heavily, for the sea was still high, and
there was not a breath of wind to fill her sails and steady her. By the
morning the sea had gone down, but there was still an absence of wind.
"We have had a horrible night," Gerald remarked, "but we may think
ourselves fortunate indeed," and he pointed to the south, where the
land was plainly visible at a distance of nine or ten miles. "If the
gale had continued to blow until now we should have been on shore long
before this."
"We are too near to be pleasant," Geoffrey said, "for they can see us
as plainly as we can see the land. It is to be hoped that a breeze may
spring up from the south before long and enable us to creep off the
land. Unless I am greatly mistaken I can see the masts of some craft or
other in a line with those white houses over there."
"I don't see them," Gerald replied, gazing intently in the direction in
which Geoffrey pointed.
"Let us go up to the top, Gerald; we shall see her hull from there
plainly enough."
On reaching the top Gerald saw at once that his friend's eyes had not
deceived him.
"Yes, there is a vessel there sure enough, Geoffrey. I cannot see
whether she has one or two masts, for her head is in this direction."
"That is not the worst of it," Geoffrey said, shading his eyes and
gazing intently on the distant object. "She is rowing; I can see the
light flash on her oars every stroke. That is a Moorish galley, and she
is coming out towards us."
"I believe you are right," Gerald replied after gazing earnestly for
some time. "Yes, I saw the flash of the oars then distinctly."
They at once descended to the deck and informed the captain of what
they had seen. He hastily mounted to the top.
"There is no mistake about it," he said after looking intently for a
short time; "it is one of the Barbary corsairs, and she is making out
towards us. The holy saints preserve us from these bloodthirsty
infidels."
"The saints will do their work if we do ours," Gerald remarked; "and we
had best do as large a share as possible. What is the number of your
crew, captain?"
"Nineteen men altogether."
"And there are thirty soldiers, and six male passengers in the cabin,"
Gerald said; "so we muster fifty-four. That ought to be enough to beat
off the corsair."
On returning to the deck the captain informed the officer in charge of
the troops on board that a Moorish pirate was putting off towards them,
and that unless the wind came to their aid there was no chance of
escaping a conflict with her.
"Then we must fight her, captain," the officer, who was still a youth,
said cheerfully. "I have thirty men, of whom at least half are
veterans. You have four cannon on board, and there are the crew and
passengers."
"Fifty-four in all," Gerald said. "We ought to be able to make a good
fight of it."
Orders were at once given, soldiers and crew were mustered and informed
of the approaching danger.
"We have got to fight, men, and to fight hard," the young officer said;
"for if we are beaten you know the result--either our throats will be
cut or we shall have to row in their galleys for the rest of our lives.
So there is not much choice."
In an hour the corsair was half-way between the coast and the vessel.
By this time every preparation had been made for her reception. Arms
had been distributed among the crew and such of the passengers as were
not already provided, the guns had been cast loose and ammunition
brought up, cauldrons of pitch were ranged along the bulwarks and fires
lighted on slabs of stone placed beneath them. The coppers in the
galley were already boiling.
"Now, captain," the young officer said, "do you and your sailors work
the guns and ladle out the pitch and boiling water, and be in readiness
to catch up their pikes and axes and aid in the defence if the villains
gain a footing on the deck. I and my men and the passengers will do our
best to keep them from climbing up."
The vessel was provided with sweeps, and the captain had in the first
place proposed to man them; but Gerald pointed out that the corsair
would row three feet to their one, and that it was important that all
should be fresh and vigorous when the pirates came alongside. The idea
had consequently been abandoned, and the vessel lay motionless in the
water while the corsair was approaching.
Inez, who felt better now that the motion had subsided, came on deck as
the preparations were being made. Gerald told her of the danger that
was approaching. She turned pale.
"This is dreadful, Gerald. I would rather face death a thousand times
than be captured by the Moors."
"We shall beat them off, dear, never fear. They will not reckon upon
the soldiers we have on board, and will expect an easy prize. I do not
suppose that, apart from the galley-slaves, they have more men on board
than we have, and fighting as we do for liberty, each of us ought to be
equal to a couple of these Moorish dogs. When the conflict begins you
must go below."
"I shall not do that," Inez said firmly. "We will share the same fate
whatever it may be, Gerald; and remember that whatever happens I will
not live to be carried captive among them. I will stab myself to the
heart if I see that all is lost."
"You shall come on deck if you will, Inez, when they get close
alongside. I do not suppose there will be many shots fired--they will
be in too great a hurry to board; but as long as they are shooting you
must keep below. After that come up if you will. It would make a coward
of me did I know that a chance shot might strike you."
"Very well, then, Gerald, to please you I will go down until they come
alongside, then come what will I shall be on deck."
As the general opinion on board was that the corsairs would not greatly
outnumber them, while they would be at a great disadvantage from the
lowness of their vessel in the water, there was a general feeling of
confidence, and the approach of the enemy was watched with calmness.
When half a mile distant two puffs of smoke burst out from the
corsair's bows. A moment later a shot struck the ship, and another
threw up the water close to her stern. The four guns of the _Tarifa_
had been brought over to the side on which the enemy was approaching,
and these were now discharged. One of the shots carried away some oars
on the starboard side of the galley, another struck her in the bow.
There was a slight confusion on board; two or three oars were shifted
over from the port to the starboard side, and she continued her way.
The guns were loaded again, bags of bullets being this time inserted
instead of balls. The corsairs fired once more, but their shots were
unanswered; and with wild yells and shouts they approached the
motionless Spanish vessel.
"She is crowded with men," Gerald remarked to Geoffrey. "She has far
more on board than we reckoned on."
"We have not given them a close volley yet," Geoffrey replied. "If the
guns are well aimed they will make matters equal."
[Illustration: GEOFFREY FALLS INTO THE HANDS OF THE CORSAIRS]
The corsair was little more than her own length away when the captain
gave the order, and the four guns poured their contents upon her
crowded decks. The effect was terrible. The mass of men gathered in her
bow in readiness to board as soon as she touched the _Tarifa_ were
literally swept away. Another half minute she was alongside the
Spaniard, and the Moors with wild shouts of vengeance tried to clamber
on board.
But they had not reckoned upon meeting with more than the ordinary crew
of a merchant ship. The soldiers discharged their arquebuses, and then
with pike and sword opposed an impenetrable barrier to the assailants,
while the sailors from behind ladled over the boiling pitch and water
through intervals purposely left in the line of the defenders. The
conflict lasted but a few minutes. Well-nigh half the Moors had been
swept away by the discharge of the cannon, and the rest, but little
superior in numbers to the Spaniards, were not long before they lost
heart, their efforts relaxed, and shouts arose to the galley-slaves to
row astern.
"Now, it is our turn!" the young officer cried. "Follow me, my men; we
will teach the dogs a lesson." As he spoke he sprang from the bulwark
down upon the deck of the corsair.
Geoffrey, who was standing next to him, followed his example, as did
five or six soldiers. They were instantly engaged in a hand-to-hand
fight with the Moors. In the din and confusion they heard not the
shouts of their comrades. After a minute's fierce fighting, Geoffrey,
finding that he and his companions were being pressed back, glanced
round to see why support did not arrive, and saw that there were
already thirty feet of water between the two vessels. He was about to
spring overboard, when the Moors made a desperate rush, his guard was
beaten down, a blow from a Moorish scimitar fell on his head, and he
lost consciousness.
It was a long time before he recovered. The first sound he was aware of
was the creaking of the oars. He lay dreamily listening to this, and
wondering what it meant, until the truth suddenly flashed across him.
He opened his eyes and looked round. A heavy weight lay across his
legs, and he saw the young Spanish officer lying dead there. Several
other Spaniards lay close by, while the deck was strewn with the
corpses of the Moors. He understood at once what had happened. The
vessels had drifted apart just as he sprang on board, cutting off those
who had boarded the corsair from all assistance from their friends, and
as soon as they had been overpowered the galley had started on her
return to the port from which she had come out.
"At any rate," he said to himself, "Gerald and Inez are safe; that is a
comfort, whatever comes of it."
It was not until the corsair dropped anchor near the shore that the
dispirited Moors paid any attention to those by whom their deck was
cumbered. Then the Spaniards were first examined. Four, who were dead,
were at once tossed overboard. Geoffrey and two others who showed signs
of life were left for the present, a bucket of water being thrown over
each to revive them. The Moorish wounded and the dead were then lowered
into boats and taken on shore for care or burial. Then Geoffrey and the
two Spaniards were ordered to rise.
All three were able to do so with some difficulty, and were rowed
ashore. They were received when they landed by the curses and
execrations of the people of the little town, who would have torn them
to pieces had not their captors marched them to the prison occupied by
the galley-slaves when on shore, and left them there. Most of the
galley-slaves were far too exhausted by their long row, and too
indifferent to aught but their own sufferings, to pay any attention to
the new-comers. Two or three, however, came up to them and offered to
assist in bandaging their wounds. Their doublets had already been taken
by their captors; but they now tore strips off their shirts, and with
these staunched the bleeding of their wounds.
"It was lucky for you that five or six of our number were killed by
that discharge of grape you gave us," one of them said, "or they would
have thrown you overboard at once. Although, after all, death is almost
preferable to such a life as ours."
"How long have you been here?" Geoffrey asked.
"I hardly know," the other replied; "one almost loses count of time
here. But it is somewhere about ten years. I am sturdy, you see. Three
years at most is the average of our life in the galleys, though there
are plenty die before as many months have passed. I come of a hardy
race. I am not a Spaniard. I was captured in an attack on a town in the
West Indies, and had three years on board one of your galleys at Cadiz.
Then she was captured by the Moors, and here I have been ever since."
"Then you must be an Englishman!" Geoffrey exclaimed in that language.
The man stared at him stupidly for a minute, and then burst into tears.
"I have never thought to hear my own tongue again, lad," he said,
holding out his hand. "Aye, I am English, and was one of Hawkins' men.
But how come you to be in a Spanish ship? I have heard our masters say,
when talking together, that there is war now between the English and
Spaniards; that is, war at home. There has always been war out on the
Spanish Main, but they know nothing of that."
"I was made prisoner in a fight we had with the great Spanish Armada
off Gravelines," Geoffrey said.
"We heard a year ago from some Spaniards they captured that a great
fleet was being prepared to conquer England; but no news has come to us
since. We are the only galley here, and as our benches were full, the
prisoners they have taken since were sent off at once to Algiers or
other ports, so we have heard nothing. But I told the Spaniards that if
Drake and Hawkins were in England when their great fleet got there,
they were not likely to have it all their own way. Tell me all about
it, lad. You do not know how hungry I am for news from home."
Geoffrey related to the sailor the tale of the overthrow and
destruction of the Armada, which threw him into an ecstasy of
satisfaction.
"These fellows," he said, pointing to the other galley-slaves, "have
for the last year been telling me that I need not call myself an
Englishman any more, for that England was only a part of Spain now. I
will open their eyes a bit in the morning. But I won't ask you any more
questions now; it is a shame to have made you talk so much after such a
clip as you have had on the head."
Geoffrey turned round on the sand that formed their only bed, and was
soon asleep, the last sound he heard being the chuckling of his
companion over the discomfiture of the Armada.
In the morning the guard came in with a great dish filled with a sort
of porridge of coarsely-ground grain, boiled with water. In a corner of
the yard were a number of calabashes, each composed of half a gourd.
The slaves each dipped one of these into the vessel, and so eat their
breakfast. Before beginning Geoffrey went to a trough, into which a jet
of water was constantly falling from a small pipe, bathed his head and
face, and took a long drink.
"We may be thankful," the sailor, who had already told him that his
name was Stephen Boldero, said, "that someone in the old times laid on
that water. If it had not been for that I do not know what we should
have done, and a drink of muddy stuff once or twice a day is all we
should have got. That there pure water is just the saving of us."
"What are we going to do now?" Geoffrey asked. "Does the galley go out
every day?"
"Bless you, no; sometimes not once a month; only when a sail is made
out in sight, and the wind is light enough to give us the chance of
capturing her. Sometimes we go out on a cruise for a month at a time;
but that is not often. At other times we do the work of the town, mend
the roads, sweep up the filth, repair the quays; do anything, in fact,
that wants doing. The work, except in the galleys, is not above a man's
strength. Some men die under it, because the Spaniards lose heart and
turn sullen, and then down comes the whip on their backs, and they
break their hearts over it; but a man as does his best, and is cheerful
and willing, gets on well enough except in the galleys.
"That is work; that is. There is a chap walks up and down with a whip,
and when they are chasing he lets it fall promiscuous, and even if you
are rowing fit to kill yourself you do not escape it; but on shore here
if you keep up your spirits things ain't altogether so bad. Now I have
got you here to talk to in my own lingo I feel quite a different man.
For although I have been here ten years, and can jabber in Spanish, I
have never got on with these fellows; as is only natural, seeing that I
am an Englishman and know all about their doings in the Spanish Main,
and hate them worse than poison. Well, our time is up, so I am off. I
do not expect they will make you work till your wounds are healed a
bit."
This supposition turned out correct, and for the next week Geoffrey was
allowed to remain quietly in the yard when the gang went out to their
work. At the end of that time his wound had closed, and being heartily
sick of the monotony of his life, he voluntarily fell in by the side of
Boldero when the gang was called to work. The overseer was apparently
pleased at this evidence of willingness on the part of the young
captive, and said something to him in his own tongue. This his
companion translated as being an order that he was not to work too hard
for the present.
"I am bound to say, mate, that these Moors are, as a rule, much better
masters than the Spaniards. I have tried them both, and I would rather
be in a Moorish galley than a Spanish one by a long way, except just
when they are chasing a ship, and are half wild with excitement. These
Moors are not half bad fellows, while it don't seem to me that a
Spaniard has got a heart in him. Then again, I do not think they are
quite so hard on Englishmen as they are on Spaniards; for they hate the
Spaniards because they drove them out of their country. Once or twice I
have had a talk with the overseer when he has been in a special good
humour, and he knows we hate the Spaniards as much as they do, and that
though they call us all Christian dogs, our Christianity ain't a bit
like that of the Spaniards. I shall let him know the first chance I
have that you are English too, and I shall ask him to let you always
work by the side of me."
As Stephen Boldero had foretold, Geoffrey did not find his work on
shore oppressively hard. He did his best, and as he and his companion
always performed a far larger share of work than that done by any two
of the Spaniards, they gained the good-will of their overlooker, who,
when a fortnight later the principal bey of the place sent down a
request for two slaves to do some rough work in his garden, selected
them for the work.
"Now we will just buckle to, lad," Stephen Boldero said. "This bey is
the captain of the corsair, and he can make things a deal easier for us
if he chooses; so we will not spare ourselves. He had one of the men up
there two years ago, and kept him for some months, and the fellow found
it so hard when he came back here again that he pined and died off in
no time."
A guard took them to the bey's house, which stood on high ground behind
the town. The bey came out to examine the men chosen for his work.
"I hear," he said, "that you are both English, and hate the Spaniards
as much as we do. Well, if I find you work well, you will be well
treated; if not, you will be sent back at once. Now, come with me, and
I shall show you what you have to do."
The high wall at the back of the garden had been pulled down, and the
bey intended to enlarge the inclosure considerably.
"You are first," he said, "to dig a foundation for the new wall along
that line marked out by stakes. When that is done you will supply the
masons with stone and mortar. When the wall is finished the new ground
will all have to be dug deeply and planted with shrubs, under the
superintendence of my gardener. While you are working here you will not
return to the prison, but will sleep in that out-house in the garden."
"You shall have no reason to complain of our work," Boldero said. "We
Englishmen are no sluggards, and we do not want a man always looking
after us as those lazy Spaniards do."
As soon as they were supplied with tools Geoffrey and his companion set
to work. The trench for the foundations had to be dug three feet deep;
and though the sun blazed fiercely down upon them, they worked
unflinchingly. From time to time the bey's head servant came down to
examine their progress, and occasionally watched them from among the
trees. At noon he bade them lay aside their tools and come into the
shed, and a slave boy brought them out a large dish of vegetables, with
small pieces of meat in it.
"This is something like food," Stephen said as he sat down to it. "It
is ten years since such a mess as this has passed my lips. I do not
wonder that chap fell ill when he got back to prison if this is the
sort of way they fed him here."
That evening the Moorish overseer reported to the bey that the two
slaves had done in the course of the day as much work as six of the
best native labourers could have performed, and that without his
standing over them or paying them any attention whatever. Moved by the
report, the bey himself went down to the end of the garden.
"It is wonderful," he said, stroking his beard. "Truly these Englishmen
are men of sinews. Never have I seen so much work done by two men in a
day. Take care of them, Mahmoud, and see that they are well fed; the
willing servant should be well cared for."
The work went steadily on until the wall was raised, the ground dug,
and the shrubs planted. It was some months before all this was done,
and the two slaves continued to attract the observation and good-will
of the bey by their steady and cheerful labour. Their work began soon
after sunrise, and continued until noon. Then they had three hours to
themselves to eat their mid-day meal and dose in the shed, and then
worked again until sunset. The bey often strolled down to the edge of
the trees to watch them, and sometimes even took guests to admire the
way in which these two Englishmen, although ignorant that any eyes were
upon them, performed their work.
His satisfaction was evinced by the abundance of food supplied them,
their meal being frequently supplemented by fruit and other little
luxuries. Severely as they laboured, Geoffrey and his companion were
comparatively happy. Short as was the time that the former had worked
with the gang, he appreciated the liberty he now enjoyed, and
especially congratulated himself upon being spared the painful life of
a galley-slave at sea. As to Boldero, the change from the prison with
the companions he hated, its degrading work, and coarse and scanty
food, made a new man of him.
He had been but two-and-twenty when captured by the Spaniards, and was
now in the prime of life and strength. The work, which had seemed very
hard to Geoffrey at first, was to him but as play, while the
companionship of his countryman, his freedom from constant
surveillance, the absence of all care, and the abundance and excellence
of his food, filled him with new life; and the ladies of the boy's
household often sat and listened to the strange songs that rose from
the slaves toiling in the garden.
As the work approached its conclusion Geoffrey and his companion had
many a talk over what would next befall them. There was one reason only
that weighed in favour of the life with the slave-gang. In their
present position there was no possibility whatever, so far as they
could discern, of effecting their escape; whereas, as slaves, should
the galley in which they rowed be overpowered by any ship it attacked,
they would obtain their freedom. The chance of this, however, was
remote, as the fast-rowing galleys could almost always make their
escape should the vessel they attacked prove too strong to be captured.
When the last bed had been levelled and the last shrub planted the
superintendent told them to follow him into the house, as the bey was
desirous of speaking with them. They found him seated on a divan.
"Christians," he said, "I have watched you while you have been at work,
and truly you have not spared yourselves in my service, but have
laboured for me with all your strength, well and willingly. I see now
that it is true that the people of your nation differ much from the
Spaniards, who are dogs.
"I see that trust is to be placed in you, and were you but true
believers I would appoint you to a position where you could win credit
and honour. As it is, I cannot place you over believers in the prophet;
but neither am I willing that you should return to the gang from which
I took you. I will, therefore, leave you free to work for yourselves.
There are many of my friends who have seen you labouring, and will give
you employment. It will be known in the place that you are under my
protection, and that any who insult or ill-treat you will be severely
punished. Should you have any complaint to make, come freely to me and
I will see that justice is done you.
"This evening a crier will go through the place proclaiming that the
two English galley-slaves have been given their freedom by me, and will
henceforth live in the town without molestation from anyone, carrying
on their work and selling their labour like true believers. The crier
will inform the people that the nation to which you belong is at war
with our enemies the Spaniards, and that, save as to the matter of your
religion, you are worthy of being regarded as friends by all good
Moslems. My superintendent will go down with you in the morning. I have
ordered him to hire a little house for you and furnish it with what is
needful, to recommend you to your neighbours, and to give you a purse
of piastres with which to maintain yourselves until work comes to you."
Stephen Boldero expressed the warmest gratitude, on the part of his
companion and himself, to the bey for his kindness.
"I have done but simple justice," the bey said, "and no thanks are
necessary. Faithful work should have its reward, and as you have done
to me so I do to you."
The next morning as they were leaving, a female slave presented them
with a purse of silver, the gift of the bey's wife and daughters, who
had often derived much pleasure from the songs of the two captives. The
superintendent conducted them to a small hut facing the sea. It was
furnished with the few articles that were, according to native ideas,
necessary for comfort. There were cushions on the divan of baked clay
raised about a foot above the floor, which served as a sofa during the
day and as a bed at night. There was a small piece of carpet on the
floor and a few cooking utensils on a shelf, and some dishes of burnt
clay; and nothing more was required. There was, however, a small chest,
in which, after the superintendent had left, they found two sets of
garments as worn by the natives.
"This is a comfort indeed," Geoffrey said. "My clothes are all in rags,
and as for yours the less we say about them the better. I shall feel
like a new man in these things."
"I shall be glad myself," Stephen agreed, "for the clothes they give
the galley-slaves are scarce decent for a Christian man to wear. My
consolation has been that if they had been shocked by our appearance
they would have given us more clothes; but as they did not mind it
there was no reason why I should. Still it would be a comfort to be
cleanly and decent again."
For the first few days the natives of the place looked askance at these
Christians in their midst, but the bey's orders had been peremptory
that no insults should be offered to them. Two days after their
liberation one of the principal men of the place sent for them and
employed them in digging the foundations for a fountain, and a deep
trench of some hundred yards in length for the pipe for bringing water
to it. After that they had many similar jobs, receiving always the
wages paid to regular workmen, and giving great satisfaction by their
steady toil. Sometimes when not otherwise engaged they went out in
boats with fishermen, receiving a portion of the catch in payment of
their labours.
So some months passed away. Very frequently they talked over methods of
Escape. The only plan that seemed at all possible was to take a boat
and make out to sea; but they knew that they would be pursued, and if
overtaken would revert to their former life at the galleys, a change
which would be a terrible one indeed after the present life of freedom
and independence. They knew, too, that they might be days before
meeting with a ship, for all traders in the Mediterranean hugged the
northern shores as much as possible in order to avoid the dreaded
corsairs, and there would be a far greater chance of their being
recaptured by one of the Moorish cruisers than of lighting upon a
Christian trader.
"It is a question of chance," Stephen said, "and when the chance comes
we will seize it; but it is no use our giving up a life against which
there is not much to be said, unless some fair prospect of escape
offers itself to us."