by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XV.
A SLAVE IN BARBARY.
The _Tarifa_ had left port but a few hours when a strong wind rose fromthe north, and rapidly increased in violence until it was blowing agale.
"Inez is terribly ill," Gerald said when he met Geoffrey on deck thefollowing morning. "I believe at the present moment she would face herfather and risk everything if she could but be put on shore."
"I can well imagine that. However, she will think otherwise to-morrowor 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 wewere 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 is not apleasant look-out. These vessels are not like your English craft, whichseem to be able to sail almost in the eye of the wind. They arelubberly craft, and badly handled; and if this gale lasts for threedays we shall be down on the Barbary coast, and I would rather riskanother journey through Spain than get down so near the country of theMoors."
"I can understand that," Geoffrey agreed. "However, I see there aresome thirty soldiers forward on their way to join one of the regimentsin Naples, so we ought to be able to beat off any corsair that mightcome near us.
"Yes; but if we got down on their coast we might be attacked by half adozen of them," Gerald said. "However, one need not begin to worryone'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 throughthe night the vessel rolled heavily, for the sea was still high, andthere was not a breath of wind to fill her sails and steady her. By themorning the sea had gone down, but there was still an absence of wind.
"We have had a horrible night," Gerald remarked, "but we may thinkourselves fortunate indeed," and he pointed to the south, where theland was plainly visible at a distance of nine or ten miles. "If thegale had continued to blow until now we should have been on shore longbefore this."
"We are too near to be pleasant," Geoffrey said, "for they can see usas plainly as we can see the land. It is to be hoped that a breeze mayspring up from the south before long and enable us to creep off theland. Unless I am greatly mistaken I can see the masts of some craft orother in a line with those white houses over there."
"I don't see them," Gerald replied, gazing intently in the direction inwhich 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 had notdeceived 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 see thelight flash on her oars every stroke. That is a Moorish galley, and sheis coming out towards us."
"I believe you are right," Gerald replied after gazing earnestly forsome 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 for ashort time; "it is one of the Barbary corsairs, and she is making outtowards us. The holy saints preserve us from these bloodthirstyinfidels."
"The saints will do their work if we do ours," Gerald remarked; "and wehad best do as large a share as possible. What is the number of yourcrew, 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 beatoff 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 towards them,and that unless the wind came to their aid there was no chance ofescaping 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 areveterans. You have four cannon on board, and there are the crew andpassengers."
"Fifty-four in all," Gerald said. "We ought to be able to make a goodfight of it."
Orders were at once given, soldiers and crew were mustered and informedof 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 becut 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. Armshad been distributed among the crew and such of the passengers as werenot already provided, the guns had been cast loose and ammunitionbrought up, cauldrons of pitch were ranged along the bulwarks and fireslighted on slabs of stone placed beneath them. The coppers in thegalley were already boiling.
"Now, captain," the young officer said, "do you and your sailors workthe guns and ladle out the pitch and boiling water, and be in readinessto catch up their pikes and axes and aid in the defence if the villainsgain a footing on the deck. I and my men and the passengers will do ourbest to keep them from climbing up."
The vessel was provided with sweeps, and the captain had in the firstplace proposed to man them; but Gerald pointed out that the corsairwould row three feet to their one, and that it was important that allshould be fresh and vigorous when the pirates came alongside. The ideahad consequently been abandoned, and the vessel lay motionless in thewater while the corsair was approaching.
Inez, who felt better now that the motion had subsided, came on deck asthe preparations were being made. Gerald told her of the danger thatwas approaching. She turned pale.
"This is dreadful, Gerald. I would rather face death a thousand timesthan be captured by the Moors."
"We shall beat them off, dear, never fear. They will not reckon uponthe soldiers we have on board, and will expect an easy prize. I do notsuppose that, apart from the galley-slaves, they have more men on boardthan we have, and fighting as we do for liberty, each of us ought to beequal to a couple of these Moorish dogs. When the conflict begins youmust go below."
"I shall not do that," Inez said firmly. "We will share the same fatewhatever it may be, Gerald; and remember that whatever happens I willnot live to be carried captive among them. I will stab myself to theheart 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--they willbe in too great a hurry to board; but as long as they are shooting youmust keep below. After that come up if you will. It would make a cowardof me did I know that a chance shot might strike you."
"Very well, then, Gerald, to please you I will go down until they comealongside, then come what will I shall be on deck."
As the general opinion on board was that the corsairs would not greatlyoutnumber them, while they would be at a great disadvantage from thelowness of their vessel in the water, there was a general feeling ofconfidence, and the approach of the enemy was watched with calmness.When half a mile distant two puffs of smoke burst out from thecorsair's bows. A moment later a shot struck the ship, and anotherthrew 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 oarson the starboard side of the galley, another struck her in the bow.There was a slight confusion on board; two or three oars were shiftedover from the port to the starboard side, 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 shots wereunanswered; and with wild yells and shouts they approached themotionless Spanish vessel.
"She is crowded with men," Gerald remarked to Geoff
rey. "She has farmore on board than we reckoned on."
"We have not given them a close volley yet," Geoffrey replied. "If theguns are well aimed they will make matters equal."
GEOFFREY FALLS INTO THE HANDS OF THE CORSAIRS]
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 gathered in herbow in readiness to board as soon as she touched the _Tarifa_ wereliterally swept away. Another half minute she was alongside theSpaniard, and the Moors with wild shouts of vengeance tried to clamberon board.
But they had not reckoned upon meeting with more than the ordinary crewof a merchant ship. The soldiers discharged their arquebuses, and thenwith pike and sword opposed an impenetrable barrier to the assailants,while the sailors from behind ladled over the boiling pitch and waterthrough intervals purposely left in the line of the defenders. Theconflict lasted but a few minutes. Well-nigh half the Moors had beenswept away by the discharge of the cannon, and the rest, but littlesuperior in numbers to the Spaniards, were not long before they lostheart, their efforts relaxed, and shouts arose to the galley-slaves torow astern.
"Now, it is our turn!" the young officer cried. "Follow me, my men; wewill teach the dogs a lesson." As he spoke he sprang from the bulwarkdown upon the deck of the corsair.
Geoffrey, who was standing next to him, followed his example, as didfive or six soldiers. They were instantly engaged in a hand-to-handfight with the Moors. In the din and confusion they heard not theshouts of their comrades. After a minute's fierce fighting, Geoffrey,finding that he and his companions were being pressed back, glancedround to see why support did not arrive, and saw that there werealready thirty feet of water between the two vessels. He was about tospring overboard, when the Moors made a desperate rush, his guard wasbeaten down, a blow from a Moorish scimitar fell on his head, and helost consciousness.
It was a long time before he recovered. The first sound he was aware ofwas the creaking of the oars. He lay dreamily listening to this, andwondering what it meant, until the truth suddenly flashed across him.He opened his eyes and looked round. A heavy weight lay across hislegs, and he saw the young Spanish officer lying dead there. Severalother Spaniards lay close by, while the deck was strewn with thecorpses of the Moors. He understood at once what had happened. Thevessels had drifted apart just as he sprang on board, cutting off thosewho had boarded the corsair from all assistance from their friends, andas soon as they had been overpowered the galley had started on herreturn to the port from which she had come out.
"At any rate," he said to himself, "Gerald and Inez are safe; that is acomfort, whatever comes of it."
It was not until the corsair dropped anchor near the shore that thedispirited Moors paid any attention to those by whom their deck wascumbered. Then the Spaniards were first examined. Four, who were dead,were at once tossed overboard. Geoffrey and two others who showed signsof life were left for the present, a bucket of water being thrown overeach to revive them. The Moorish wounded and the dead were then loweredinto boats and taken on shore for care or burial. Then Geoffrey and thetwo Spaniards were ordered to 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 torn themto pieces had not their captors marched them to the prison occupied bythe galley-slaves when on shore, and left them there. Most of thegalley-slaves were far too exhausted by their long row, and tooindifferent to aught but their own sufferings, to pay any attention tothe new-comers. Two or three, however, came up to them and offered toassist in bandaging their wounds. Their doublets had already been takenby their captors; but they now tore strips off their shirts, and withthese staunched the bleeding of their wounds.
"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 they wouldhave thrown you overboard at once. Although, after all, death is almostpreferable 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. Threeyears at most is the average of our life in the galleys, though thereare plenty die before as many months have passed. I come of a hardyrace. I am not a Spaniard. I was captured in an attack on a town in theWest 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 andSpaniards; that is, war at home. There has always been war out on theSpanish Main, but they know nothing of 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 come to ussince. We are the only galley here, and as our benches were full, theprisoners they have taken since were sent off at once to Algiers orother ports, so we have heard nothing. But I told the Spaniards that ifDrake 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 aboutit, lad. You do not know how hungry I am for news from home."
Geoffrey related to the sailor the tale of the overthrow anddestruction of the Armada, which threw him into an ecstasy ofsatisfaction.
"These fellows," he said, pointing to the other galley-slaves, "havefor the last year been telling me that I need not call myself anEnglishman any more, for that England was only a part of Spain now. Iwill open their eyes a bit in the morning. But I won't ask you any morequestions now; it is a shame to have made you talk so much after such aclip as you have had on the head."
Geoffrey turned round on the sand that formed their only bed, and wassoon asleep, the last sound he heard being the chuckling of hiscompanion over the discomfiture of the Armada.
In the morning the guard came in with a great dish filled with a sortof porridge of coarsely-ground grain, boiled with water. In a corner ofthe 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 theirbreakfast. Before beginning Geoffrey went to a trough, into which a jetof water was constantly falling from a small pipe, bathed his head andface, and took a long drink.
"We may be thankful," the sailor, who had already told him that hisname was Stephen Boldero, said, "that someone in the old times laid onthat water. If it had not been for that I do not know what we shouldhave done, and a drink of muddy stuff once or twice a day is all weshould 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 outevery 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 chance ofcapturing 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, mendthe 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'sstrength. Some men die under it, because the Spaniards lose heart andturn sullen, and then down comes the whip on their backs, and theybreak their hearts over it; but a man as does his best, and is cheerfuland 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 youare rowing fit to kill yourself you do not escape it; but on
shore hereif you keep up your spirits things ain't altogether so bad. Now I havegot 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, Ihave never got on with these fellows; as is only natural, seeing that Iam 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. Ido not expect they will make you work till your wounds are healed abit."
This supposition turned out correct, and for the next week Geoffrey wasallowed to remain quietly in the yard when the gang went out to theirwork. At the end of that time his wound had closed, and being heartilysick of the monotony of his life, he voluntarily fell in by the side ofBoldero when the gang was called to work. The overseer was apparentlypleased at this evidence of willingness on the part of the youngcaptive, and said something to him in his own tongue. This hiscompanion translated as being an order that he was not to work too hardfor the present.
"I am bound to say, mate, that these Moors are, as a rule, much bettermasters than the Spaniards. I have tried them both, and I would ratherbe in a Moorish galley than a Spanish one by a long way, except justwhen they are chasing a ship, and are half wild with excitement. TheseMoors are not half bad fellows, while it don't seem to me that aSpaniard has got a heart in him. Then again, I do not think they arequite so hard on Englishmen as they are on Spaniards; for they hate theSpaniards because they drove them out of their country. Once or twice Ihave had a talk with the overseer when he has been in a special goodhumour, and he knows we hate the Spaniards as much as they do, and thatthough they call us all Christian dogs, our Christianity ain't a bitlike that of the Spaniards. I shall let him know the first chance Ihave that you are English too, and I shall ask him to let you alwayswork by the side of me."
As Stephen Boldero had foretold, Geoffrey did not find his work onshore oppressively hard. He did his best, and as he and his companionalways performed a far larger share of work than that done by any twoof the Spaniards, they gained the good-will of their overlooker, who,when a fortnight later the principal bey of the place sent down arequest for two slaves to do some rough work in his garden, selectedthem for the work.
"Now we will just buckle to, lad," Stephen Boldero said. "This bey isthe captain of the corsair, and he can make things a deal easier for usif he chooses; so we will not spare ourselves. He had one of the men upthere two years ago, and kept him for some months, and the fellow foundit so hard when he came back here again that he pined and died off inno time."
A guard took them to the bey's house, which stood on high ground behindthe 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 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, andI shall show you what you have to do."
The high wall at the back of the garden had been pulled down, and thebey intended to enlarge the inclosure considerably.
"You are first," he said, "to dig a foundation for the new wall alongthat line marked out by stakes. When that is done you will supply themasons with stone and mortar. When the wall is finished the new groundwill all have to be dug deeply and planted with shrubs, under thesuperintendence of my gardener. While you are working here you will notreturn 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. "WeEnglishmen are no sluggards, and we do not want a man always lookingafter us as those lazy Spaniards do."
As soon as they were supplied with tools Geoffrey and his companion setto work. The trench for the foundations had to be dug three feet deep;and though the sun blazed fiercely down upon them, they workedunflinchingly. From time to time the bey's head servant came down toexamine their progress, and occasionally watched them from among thetrees. At noon he bade them lay aside their tools and come into theshed, and a slave boy brought them out a large dish of vegetables, withsmall pieces of meat in it.
"This is something like food," Stephen said as he sat down to it. "Itis ten years since such a mess as this has passed my lips. I do notwonder that chap fell ill when he got back to prison if this is thesort 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 of thebest native labourers could have performed, and that without hisstanding over them or paying them any attention whatever. Moved by thereport, the bey himself went down to the end of the garden.
"It is wonderful," he said, stroking his beard. "Truly these Englishmenare men of sinews. Never have I seen so much work done by two men in aday. Take care of them, Mahmoud, and see that they are well fed; thewilling 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-willof the bey by their steady and cheerful labour. Their work began soonafter sunrise, and continued until noon. Then they had three hours tothemselves to eat their mid-day meal and dose in the shed, and thenworked again until sunset. The bey often strolled down to the edge ofthe trees to watch them, and sometimes even took guests to admire theway in which these two Englishmen, although ignorant that any eyes wereupon them, performed their work.
His satisfaction was evinced by the abundance of food supplied them,their meal being frequently supplemented by fruit and other littleluxuries. Severely as they laboured, Geoffrey and his companion werecomparatively happy. Short as was the time that the former had workedwith the gang, he appreciated the liberty he now enjoyed, andespecially congratulated himself upon being spared the painful life ofa galley-slave at sea. As to Boldero, the change from the prison withthe companions he hated, its degrading work, and coarse and scantyfood, made a new man of him.
He had been but two-and-twenty when captured by the Spaniards, and wasnow in the prime of life and strength. The work, which had seemed veryhard to Geoffrey at first, was to him but as play, while thecompanionship of his countryman, his freedom from constantsurveillance, the absence of all care, and the abundance and excellenceof his food, filled him with new life; and the ladies of the boy'shousehold often sat and listened to the strange songs that rose fromthe slaves toiling in the garden.
As the work approached its conclusion Geoffrey and his companion hadmany a talk over what would next befall them. There was one reason onlythat weighed in favour of the life with the slave-gang. In theirpresent position there was no possibility whatever, so far as theycould discern, of effecting their escape; whereas, as slaves, shouldthe galley in which they rowed be overpowered by any ship it attacked,they would obtain their freedom. The chance of this, however, wasremote, as the fast-rowing galleys could almost always make theirescape should the vessel they attacked prove 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 bey wasdesirous 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 havelaboured for me with all your strength, well and willingly. I see nowthat it is true that the people of your nation differ much from theSpaniards, 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 win creditand 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 whichI 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 giveyou employment. It will be known in the place that you are under myprotection, and that any who insult or ill-treat you will be severelypunished. Should you have any complaint to make, come freely to me an
dI will see that justice is done you.
"This evening a crier will go through the place proclaiming that thetwo English galley-slaves have been given their freedom by me, and willhenceforth live in the town without molestation from anyone, carryingon their work and selling their labour like true believers. The crierwill inform the people that the nation to which you belong is at warwith our enemies the Spaniards, and that, save as to the matter of yourreligion, you are worthy of being regarded as friends by all goodMoslems. My superintendent will go down with you in the morning. I haveordered him to hire a little house for you and furnish it with what isneedful, to recommend you to your neighbours, and to give you a purseof piastres with which to maintain yourselves until work comes to you."
Stephen Boldero expressed the warmest gratitude, on the part of hiscompanion 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 have doneto 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, whohad often derived much pleasure from the songs of the two captives. Thesuperintendent conducted them to a small hut facing the sea. It wasfurnished with the few articles that were, according to native ideas,necessary for comfort. There were cushions on the divan of baked clayraised about a foot above the floor, which served as a sofa during theday and as a bed at night. There was a small piece of carpet on thefloor and a few cooking utensils on a shelf, and some dishes of burntclay; and nothing more was required. There was, however, a small chest,in which, after the superintendent had left, they found two sets ofgarments 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 feellike a new man in these things."
"I shall be glad myself," Stephen agreed, "for the clothes they givethe galley-slaves are scarce decent for a Christian man to wear. Myconsolation has been that if they had been shocked by our appearancethey would have given us more clothes; but as they did not mind itthere was no reason why I should. Still it would be a comfort to becleanly and decent again."
For the first few days the natives of the place looked askance at theseChristians in their midst, but the bey's orders had been peremptorythat no insults should be offered to them. Two days after theirliberation one of the principal men of the place sent for them andemployed them in digging the foundations for a fountain, and a deeptrench of some hundred yards in length for the pipe for bringing waterto it. After that they had many similar jobs, receiving always thewages paid to regular workmen, and giving great satisfaction by theirsteady toil. Sometimes when not otherwise engaged they went out inboats with fishermen, receiving a portion of the catch in payment oftheir labours.
So some months passed away. Very frequently they talked over methods ofEscape. The only plan that seemed at all possible was to take a boatand make out to sea; but they knew that they would be pursued, and ifovertaken would revert to their former life at the galleys, a changewhich would be a terrible one indeed after the present life of freedomand independence. They knew, too, that they might be days beforemeeting with a ship, for all traders in the Mediterranean hugged thenorthern shores as much as possible in order to avoid the dreadedcorsairs, and there would be a far greater chance of their beingrecaptured by one of the Moorish cruisers than of lighting upon aChristian trader.
"It is a question of chance," Stephen said, "and when the chance comeswe will seize it; but it is no use our giving up a life against whichthere is not much to be said, unless some fair prospect of escapeoffers itself to us."