by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XV
A SLAVE IN BARBARY
The Terifa had left port but a few hours when a strong wind rosefrom the north, and rapidly increased in violence until it wasblowing a gale. "Inez is terribly ill," Gerald said when he metGeoffrey on deck the following morning.
"I believe at the present moment she would face her father and riskeverything if she could but be put on shore."
"I can well imagine that. However, she will think otherwise tomorrowor 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 whenwe were last afloat together."
"No. I have just been speaking to the captain. He says they generallyblow themselves out in two or three days; but still, even that isnot a pleasant lookout. These vessels are not like your Englishcraft, 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 lastsfor three days we shall be down on the Barbary coast, and I wouldrather risk another journey through Spain than get down so nearthe country of the Moors."
"I can understand that," Geoffrey agreed. "However, I see thereare some thirty soldiers forward on their way to join one of theregiments in Naples, so we ought to be able to beat off any corsairthat might come near us."
"Yes; but if we got down on their coast we might be attacked byhalf a dozen of them," Gerald said. "However, one need not begin toworry 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; andthrough the night the vessel rolled heavily, for the sea was stillhigh, and there was not a breath of wind to fill her sails and steadyher. By the morning the sea had gone down, but there was still anabsence of wind.
"We have had a horrible night," Gerald remarked, "but we may thinkourselves fortunate indeed," and he pointed to the south, wherethe land was plainly visible at a distance of nine or ten miles."If the gale had continued to blow until now we should have beenon shore long before this."
"We are too near to be pleasant," Geoffrey said, "for they cansee us as plainly as we can see the land. It is to be hoped thata breeze may spring up from the south before long and enable usto creep off the land. Unless I am greatly mistaken I can see themasts of some craft or other in a line with those white houses overthere."
"I don't see them," Gerald replied, gazing intently in the directionin which Geoffrey pointed.
"Let us go up to the top, Gerald; we shall see her hull from thereplainly enough."
On reaching the top Gerald saw at once that his friend's eyes hadnot deceived him.
"Yes, there is a vessel there sure enough, Geoffrey. I cannot seewhether 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 andgazing intently on the distant object. "She is rowing; I can seethe 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 earnestlyfor some time. "Yes, I saw the flash of the oars then distinctly."
They at once descended to the deck and informed the captain of whatthey had seen. He hastily mounted to the top.
"There is no mistake about it," he said after looking intently fora short time; "it is one of the Barbary corsairs, and she is makingout towards us. The holy saints preserve us from these bloodthirstyinfidels."
"The saints will do their work if we do ours," Gerald remarked; "andwe had best do as large a share as possible. What is the number ofyour crew, captain?"
"Nineteen men altogether."
"And there are thirty soldiers, and six male passengers in thecabin," Gerald said; "so we muster fifty-four. That ought to beenough to beat off the corsair."
On returning to the deck the captain informed the officer in charge ofthe troops on board that a Moorish pirate was putting off towardsthem, and that unless the wind came to their aid there was no chanceof escaping a conflict with her.
"Then we must fight her, captain," the officer, who was still ayouth, said cheerfully. "I have thirty men, of whom at least halfare veterans. You have four cannon on board, and there are the crewand passengers.
"Fifty-four in all," Gerald said. "We ought to be able to make agood fight of it."
Orders were at once given, soldiers and crew were mustered andinformed of the approaching danger.
"We have got to fight, men, and to fight hard," the young officersaid; "for if we are beaten you know the result--either our throatswill be cut or we shall have to row in their galleys for the restof our lives. So there is not much choice."
In an hour the corsair was halfway between the coast and the vessel.By this time every preparation had been made for her reception. Armshad been distributed among the crew and such of the passengers aswere not already provided, the guns had been cast loose and ammunitionbrought up, cauldrons of pitch were ranged along the bulwarks andfires lighted on slabs of stone placed beneath them. The coppersin the galley were already boiling.
"Now, captain," the young officer said, "do you and your sailorswork the guns and ladle out the pitch and boiling water, and be inreadiness to catch up their pikes and axes and aid in the defenceif the villains gain a footing on the deck. I and my men and thepassengers will do our best to keep them from climbing up."
The vessel was provided with sweeps, and the captain had inthe first place proposed to man them; but Gerald pointed out thatthe corsair would row three feet to their one, and that it wasimportant that all should be fresh and vigorous when the piratescame alongside. The idea had consequently been abandoned, and thevessel lay motionless in the water while the corsair was approaching.Inez, who felt better now that the motion had subsided, came ondeck as the preparations were being made. Gerald told her of thedanger that was approaching. She turned pale.
"This is dreadful, Gerald, I would rather face death a thousandtimes than be captured by the Moors."
"We shall beat them off, dear, never fear. They will not reckonupon the soldiers we have on board, and will expect an easy prize.I do not suppose that, apart from the galley slaves, they have moremen on board than we have, and fighting as we do for liberty, eachof us ought to be equal to a couple of these Moorish dogs. Whenthe conflict begins you must go below."
"I shall not do that," Inez said firmly. "We will share the samefate whatever it may be, Gerald; and remember that whatever happensI will not live to be carried captive among them, I will stab myselfto the heart if I see that all is lost."
"You shall come on deck if you will, Inez, when they get closealongside. I do not suppose there will be many shots fired--theywill be in too great a hurry to board; but as long as they areshooting you must keep below. After that come up if you will. Itwould make a coward of me did I know that a chance shot might strikeyou."
"Very well, then, Gerald, to please you I will go down until theycome alongside, then come what will I shall be on deck."
As the general opinion on board was that the corsairs would notgreatly outnumber them, while they would be at a great disadvantagefrom the lowness of their vessel in the water, there was a generalfeeling of confidence, and the approach of the enemy was watchedwith calmness. When half a mile distant two puffs of smoke burstout 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 gunsof the Tarifa had been brought over to the side on which the enemywas approaching, and these were now discharged. One of the shotscarried away some oars on the starboard side of the galley, anotherstruck her in the bow. There was a slight confusion on board; twoor three oars were shifted over from the port to the starboardside, and, she continued her way.
The guns were loaded again, bags of bullets being this time insertedinstead of balls. The corsairs fired once more, but their shotswere unanswered; and with wild yells and shouts they approachedthe motionless Spanish vessel.
"She is crowded with men," Gerald remarked to Geoffrey. "She hasfar more on board t
han we reckoned on."
"We have not given them a close volley yet," Geoffrey replied. "Ifthe guns are well aimed they will make matters equal."
The corsair was little more than her own length away when the captaingave the order, and the four guns poured their contents upon hercrowded decks. The effect was terrible. The mass of men gatheredin her bow in readiness to board as soon as she touched the Tarifawere literally swept away. Another half minute she was alongsidethe Spaniard, and the Moors with wild shouts of vengeance tried toclamber on board.
But they had not reckoned upon meeting with more than the ordinarycrew of a merchant ship. The soldiers discharged their arquebuses,and then with pike and sword opposed an impenetrable barrier to theassailants, while the sailors from behind ladled over the boilingpitch and water through intervals purposely left in the line of thedefenders. The conflict lasted but a few minutes. Well nigh halfthe Moors had been swept away by the discharge of the cannon, andthe rest, but little superior in numbers to the Spaniards, werenot long before they lost heart, their efforts relaxed, and shoutsarose to the galley slaves to row astern.
"Now, it is our turn!" the young officer cried. "Follow me, mymen; we will teach the dogs a lesson." As he spoke he sprang fromthe bulwark down upon the deck of the corsair. Geoffrey, who wasstanding next to him, followed his example, as did five or sixsoldiers. They were instantly engaged in a hand to hand fight withthe Moors. In the din and confusion they heard not the shouts oftheir comrades. After a minute's fierce fighting, Geoffrey, findingthat he and his companions were being pressed back, glanced roundto see why support did not arrive, and saw that there were alreadythirty feet of water between the two vessels. He was about tospring overboard, when the Moors made a desperate rush, his guardwas 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 wasaware of was the creaking of the oars. He lay dreamily listening tothis, and wondering what it meant until the truth suddenly flashedacross him. He opened his eyes and looked round. A heavy weight layacross his legs, and he saw the young Spanish officer lying deadthere. Several other Spaniards lay close by, while the deck wasstrewn with the corpses of the Moors. He understood at once what hadhappened. The vessels had drifted apart just as he sprang on board,cutting off those who had boarded the corsair from all assistancefrom their friends, and as soon as they had been overpowered thegalley had started on her return to the port from which she hadcome out.
"At any rate," he said to himself, "Gerald and Inez are safe; thatis a comfort, whatever comes of it."
It was not until the corsair dropped anchor near the shore thatthe dispirited Moors paid any attention to those by whom their deckwas cumbered. Then the Spaniards were first examined. Four, whowere dead, were at once tossed overboard. Geoffrey and two otherswho showed signs of life were left for the present, a bucket ofwater being thrown over each to revive them. The Moorish woundedand the dead were then lowered into boats and taken on shore forcare or burial. Then Geoffrey and the two Spaniards were orderedto rise.
All three were able to do so with some difficulty, and were rowedashore. They were received when they landed by the curses andexecrations of the people of the little town, who would have tornthem to pieces had not their captors marched them to the prisonoccupied 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 anyattention to the newcomers. Two or three, however, came up to themand offered to assist in bandaging their wounds. Their doubletshad already been taken by their captors; but they now tore stripsoff their shirts, and with these staunched the bleeding of theirwounds.
"It was lucky for you that five or six of our number were killed bythat discharge of grape you gave us," one of them said, "or theywould have thrown you overboard at once. Although, after all, deathis 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 timehere. 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, thoughthere are plenty die before as many months have passed. I come ofa hardy race. I am not a Spaniard. I was captured in an attack ona town in the West Indies, and had three years on board one of yourgalleys at Cadiz. Then she was captured by the Moors, and here Ihave been ever since."
"Then you must be an Englishman!" Geoffrey exclaimed in thatlanguage.
The man stared at him stupidly for a minute, and then burst intotears. "I have never thought to hear my own tongue again, lad,"he said, holding out his hand. "Aye, I am English, and was oneof Hawkins' men. But how come you to be in a Spanish ship? I haveheard our masters say, when talking together, that there is warnow between the English and Spaniards; that is, war at home. Therehas always been war out on the Spanish Main, but they know nothingof that."
"I was made prisoner in a fight we had with the great Spanish Armadaoff Gravelines," Geoffrey said.
"We heard a year ago from some Spaniards they captured that a greatfleet was being prepared to conquer England; but no news has cometo us since. We are the only galley here, and as our benches werefull, the prisoners they have taken since were sent off at once toAlgiers or other ports, so we have heard nothing. But I told theSpaniards that if Drake and Hawkins were in England when theirgreat fleet got there, they were not likely to have it all theirown way. Tell me all about it, lad. You do not know how hungry Iam for news from home."
Geoffrey related to the sailor the tale of the overthrow and destructionof 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 myselfan Englishman any more, for that England was only a part of Spainnow. I will open their eyes a bit in the morning. But I won't askyou any more questions now; it is a shame to have made you talk somuch after such a clip as you have had on the head."
Geoffrey turned round on the sand that formed their only bed, andwas soon asleep, the last sound he heard being the chuckling ofhis companion over the discomfiture of the Armada.
In the morning the guard came in with a great dish filled with asort of porridge of coarsely ground grain, boiled with water. Ina corner of the yard were a number of calabashes, each composed ofhalf a gourd. The slaves each dipped one of these into the vessel,and so ate their breakfast. Before beginning Geoffrey went toa trough, into which a jet of water was constantly falling from asmall pipe, bathed his head and face, and took a long drink.
"We may be thankful," the sailor, who had already told him thathis name was Stephen Boldero, said, "that someone in the old timeslaid on that water. If it had not been for that I do not know whatwe should have done, and a drink of muddy stuff once or twice aday is all we should have got. That there pure water is just thesaving of us."
"What are we going to do now?" Geoffrey asked. "Does the galley goout every day?"
"Bless you, no; sometimes not once a month; only when a sail is madeout in sight, and the wind is light enough to give us the chanceof capturing her. Sometimes we go out on a cruise for a month at atime; but that is not often. At other times we do the work of thetown, mend the roads, sweep up the filth, repair the quays; doanything, in fact, that wants doing. The work, except in the galleys,is not above a man's strength. Some men die under it, because theSpaniards lose heart and turn sullen, and then down comes the whipon their backs, and they break their hearts over it; but a man asdoes his best, and is cheerful and willing, gets on well enoughexcept in the galleys.
"That is work that is. There is a chap walks up and down with awhip, and when they are chasing he lets it fall promiscuous, andeven 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 altogetherso bad. Now I have got you here to talk to in my own lingo I feelquite
a different man. For although I have been here ten years, andcan jabber in Spanish, I have never got on with these fellows; asis only natural, seeing that I am an Englishman and know all abouttheir 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 makeyou work till your wounds are healed a bit."
This supposition turned out correct, and for the next week Geoffreywas allowed to remain quietly in the yard when the gang went outto their work. At the end of that time his wound had closed, andbeing heartily sick of the monotony of his life, he voluntarilyfell in by the side of Boldero when the gang was called to work.The overseer was apparently pleased at this evidence of willingnesson the part of the young captive, and said something to him in hisown tongue. This his companion translated as being an order thathe was not to work too hard for the present.
"I am bound to say, mate, that these Moors are, as a rule, muchbetter masters than the Spaniards. I have tried them both, and Iwould rather be in a Moorish galley than a Spanish one by a longway; except just when they are chasing a ship, and are half wildwith excitement. These Moors are not half bad fellows, while it don'tseem to me that a Spaniard has got a heart in him. Then again, Ido not think they are quite so hard on Englishmen as they are onSpaniards; for they hate the Spaniards because they drove them outof their country. Once or twice I have had a talk with the overseerwhen he has been in a special good humour, and he knows we hatethe Spaniards as much as they do, and that though they call usall Christian dogs, our Christianity ain't a bit like that of theSpaniards. I shall let him know the first chance I have that youare English too, and I shall ask him to let you always work by theside of me."
As Stephen Boldero had foretold, Geoffrey did not find his workon shore oppressively hard. He did his best, and, as he and hiscompanion always performed a far larger share of work than thatdone by any two of the Spaniards, they gained the goodwill of theiroverlooker, who, when a fortnight later the principal bey of theplace sent down a request for two slaves to do some rough work inhis garden, selected them for the work.
"Now we will just buckle to, lad," Stephen Boldero said. "This beyis the captain of the corsair, and he can make things a deal easierfor us if he chooses; so we will not spare ourselves. He had oneof 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 thathe pined and died off in no time."
A guard took them to the bey's house, which stood on high groundbehind the town. The bey came out to examine the men chosen forhis work.
"I hear," he said, "that you are both English, and hate the Spaniardsas much as we do. Well, if I find you work well, you will be welltreated; 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, andthe bey intended to enlarge the inclosure considerably.
"You are first," he said, "to dig a foundation for the new wallalong that line marked out by stakes. When that is done you willsupply the masons with stone and mortar. When the wall is finishedthe new ground will all have to be dug deeply and planted withshrubs, under the superintendence of my gardener. While you areworking here you will not return to the prison, but will sleep inthat 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 alwayslooking after us as those lazy Spaniards do."
As soon as they were supplied with tools Geoffrey and his companionset to work. The trench for the foundations had to be dug threefeet deep; and though the sun blazed fiercely down upon them, theyworked unflinchingly. From time to time the bey's head servant camedown to examine their progress, and occasionally watched them fromamong the trees. At noon he bade them lay aside their tools andcome into the shed, and a slave boy brought them out a large dishof 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. Ido not wonder that chap fell ill when he got back to prison if thisis the sort of way they fed him here."
That evening the Moorish overseer reported to the bey that the twoslaves had done in the course of the day as much work as six ofthe best native labourers could have performed, and that withouthis standing over them or paying them any attention whatever. Movedby the report, the bey himself went down to the end of the garden.
"It is wonderful," he said, stroking his beard. "Truly theseEnglishmen are men of sinews. Never have I seen so much work doneby two men in a day. Take care of them, Mahmoud, and see that theyare well fed; the willing servant should be well cared for."
The work went steadily on until the wall was raised, the grounddug, and the shrubs planted. It was some months before all thiswas done, and the two slaves continued to attract the observationand goodwill of the bey by their steady and cheerful labour. Theirwork began soon after sunrise, and continued until noon. Then theyhad three hours to themselves to eat their midday meal and doze inthe shed, and then worked again until sunset. The bey often strolleddown to the edge of the trees to watch them, and sometimes even tookguests to admire the way in which these two Englishmen, althoughignorant that any eyes were upon them, performed their work.
His satisfaction was evinced by the abundance of food suppliedthem, their meal being frequently supplemented by fruit and otherlittle luxuries. Severely as they laboured, Geoffrey and hiscompanion were comparatively happy. Short as was the time that theformer had worked with the gang, he appreciated the liberty he nowenjoyed, and especially congratulated himself upon being spared thepainful life of a galley slave at sea. As to Boldero, the changefrom 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 hadseemed very hard to Geoffrey at first, was to him but as play, whilethe companionship of his countryman, his freedom from constantsurveillance, the absence of all care, and the abundance andexcellence of his food, filled him with new life; and the ladiesof the bey's household often sat and listened to the strange songsthat rose from the slaves toiling in the garden.
As the work approached its conclusion Geoffrey and his companionhad many a talk over what would next befall them. There was onereason only that weighed in favour of the life with the slave gang.In their present position there was no possibility whatever, sofar as they could discern, of effecting their escape; whereas, asslaves, should the galley in which they rowed be overpowered byany ship it attacked, they would obtain their freedom. The chanceof this, however, was remote, as the fast-rowing galleys couldalmost always make their escape should the vessel they attackedprove too strong to be captured.
When the last bed had been levelled and the last shrub planted thesuperintendent told them to follow him into the house, as the beywas desirous of speaking with them. They found him seated on adivan.
"Christians," he said, "I have watched you while you have been atwork, and truly you have not spared yourselves in my service, buthave laboured for me with all your strength, well and willingly. Isee now that it is true that the people of your nation differ muchfrom the Spaniards, who are dogs.
"I see that trust is to be placed in you, and were you but truebelievers I would appoint you to a position where you could wincredit and honour. As it is, I cannot place you over believers inthe prophet; but neither am I willing that you should return tothe gang from which I took you. I will, therefore, leave you freeto work for yourselves. There are many of my friends who have seenyou labouring, and will give you employment. It will be known inthe place that you are under my protection, and that any who insultor ill treat you will be severely punished. Should you have anycomplaint to make, come freely to me and I will see that justiceis done you.
"This evening a crier will go through the place proclaiming thatthe two English gal
ley slaves have been given their freedom byme, and will henceforth live in the town without molestation fromanyone, carrying on their work and selling their labour like truebelievers. The crier will inform the people that the nation to whichyou belong is at war with our enemies the Spaniards, and that, saveas to the matter of your religion, you are worthy of being regardedas friends by all good Moslems. My superintendent will go down withyou in the morning. I have ordered him to hire a little house foryou and furnish it with what is needful, to recommend you to yourneighbours, and to give you a purse of piastres with which tomaintain yourselves until work comes to you."
Stephen Boldero expressed the warmest gratitude, on the part ofhis companion and himself, to the bey for his kindness.
"I have done but simple justice," the bey said, "and no thanks arenecessary. Faithful work should have its reward, and as you havedone to me so I do to you."
The next morning as they were leaving, a female slave presented themwith a purse of silver, the gift of the bey's wife and daughters,who had often derived much pleasure from the songs of the twocaptives. The superintendent conducted them to a small hut facingthe sea. It was furnished with the few articles that were, accordingto native ideas, necessary for comfort. There were cushions onthe divan of baked clay raised about a foot above the floor, whichserved as a sofa during the day and as a bed at night. There was asmall piece of carpet on the floor and a few cooking utensils on ashelf, and some dishes of burnt clay; and nothing more was required.There was, however, a small chest, in which, after the superintendenthad left, they found two sets of garments as worn by the natives.
"This is a comfort indeed," Geoffrey said. "My clothes are all inrags, and as for yours the less we say about them the better. Ishall feel like a new man in these things."
"I shall be glad myself," Stephen agreed, "for the clothes theygive the galley slaves are scarce decent for a Christian man towear. My consolation has been that if they had been shocked by ourappearance they would have given us more clothes; but as they didnot mind it there was no reason why I should. Still it would be acomfort to be clean and decent again."
For the first few days the natives of the place looked askanceat these Christians in their midst, but the bey's orders had beenperemptory that no insults should be offered to them. Two days aftertheir liberation one of the principal men of the place sent for themand employed them in digging the foundations for a fountain, and adeep trench of some hundred yards in length for the pipe bringingwater to it. After that they had many similar jobs, receiving alwaysthe wages paid to regular workmen, and giving great satisfaction bytheir steady toil. Sometimes when not otherwise engaged they wentout in boats with fishermen, receiving a portion of the catch inpayment for their labours.
So some months passed away. Very frequently they talked over methodsof escape. The only plan that seemed at all possible was to take aboat 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 presentlife of freedom and independence. They knew, too, that they mightbe days before meeting with a ship, for all traders in the Mediterraneanhugged the northern shores as much as possible in order to avoid thedreaded corsairs, and there would be a far greater chance of theirbeing recaptured by one of the Moorish cruisers than of lightingupon a Christian trader.
"It is a question of chance," Stephen said, "and when the chancecomes we will seize it; but it is no use our giving up a life againstwhich there is not much to be said, unless some fair prospect ofescape offers itself to us."