THE ADVENTURES OF WILLIAM OKELEY: A CAPTIVE’S TALE – PART 7

(This post is a continuation of The Adventures of William Okeley: A Captive’s Tale – Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, & 6. If you haven’t done so already, it’s best to read those posts before continuing on here.)

In this sad and woeful plight we continued four days and nights. On the fifth day, we were on the brink of despair, and all hope that we should be saved utterly perished, so that now, as persons despairing of the end, we ceased to pursue the means, laid our oars down, and left off our labor. We had no strength left and were loath to throw away what little we had to no purpose. We still kept emptying the boat, though, loath to drown, loath to die, yet seeing no way to avoid death.

Whilst we were at this dead ebb of hope hulling up and down on the waters, we discovered a tortoise not far from us, asleep in the sea. Had the great Drake himself discovered the Spanish silver fleet, he could not have more overjoyed. Once again, we bethought ourselves of our oars and silently rowed to our prey. We took it into the boat with great triumph, cut off its head, and let it bleed into a pot. Then we drank the blood, ate the liver, and sucked the flesh. Warm flesh and hot liquor (except our own) had been a great rarity with us for a long time, and it wonderfully refreshed our spirits and repaired our decayed strength.

Refreshed, and with fresh vigor and courage, we fell to our work with the oars, our fear left behind us, and about noon we discovered land. It is impossible to properly express our joy and triumph at this moment. It gave us new strength, new life, and brought fresh blood into our veins and fresh color into our pale cheeks. We felt not like captives escaped from the chains of Algiers, but like persons raised from the dead.

Extremes sometimes infatuate the mind, and, like distracted persons, we all leapt into the sea, quitting our boat, and, being all good swimmers, we there bathed and cooled our heated bodies—an adventure which had as much of the desperado in it as our putting to sea, for now we were at the mercy of the sharks, which might have sheared off a leg or an arm. But we never considered the danger and presently returned to our boat. Being both wearied with labor and cooled by the sea, we lay us all down to sleep with as much security as if we had been in our own beds. Nature being almost spent, must have a truce.

Our leaky vessel did not bury us in the sea, and we awakened refreshed and with new strength for our work. We tugged the harder at the oars because we hoped before nightfall to sleep upon a more stable and faithful element. But we made our way very slowly, and, when we cast up the account of our progress, we found that we had gone but a little way in a long time. Finally, towards evening, we discovered another island. The first we saw was Majorca, the second Formentera. Some of our company who had sailed in these seas assured us that the latter was infested with venomous serpents and little, if at all, inhabited. So we resolved for Majorca.

All that night we rowed very hard. The next day, we kept within sight of land. About ten o’clock at night, we finally came to the island’s shore. But the rocks there were there so craggy and steep, that we could not climb up.

The next day, while we still lay under these rocks, a ship came very near us. We were most loath to lose all our toil and travel and to have our freedom wrested from us by some Turkish pickaroon or corsair, for they are always skimming those seas in search of prey. We therefore lay close, and, when the ship was passed by, we gently crept along the cost, as near the shore as we dared, until we found a convenient place where we might land our weather-beaten boat.

We had had no food since the tortoise. Therefore, leaving three of our company with the boat, the other two—John Anthony and myself—were sent out to scout for fresh water. John Anthony could speak both the Spanish and Italian tongues very perfectly, and I had as much of the Spanish as might serve to express our wants. We passed through a wood and came upon a watch tower of the Spaniards, many of which they keep upon the sea coast to give the country timely notice· of any picaroons that come ashore to rob and spoil. When we came within call, fearing he might shoot at us, we spoke to him upon the watch, told him our condition, what we were, whence we came, how we escaped, and earnestly begged of him to direct us to some fresh water. He directed us to a well which was nearby. We then return to our boat, gathered up our companions, and made for the well, where, after drinking our fill, we lay down till the morning.

When it was clear day, we travelled on. After some time, we approached a house. The owner, spying us, and concluding by our shabby garb that we were pilfering rascals, discharged a fowling piece at us. The foremost of our company, who could speak Spanish well, explained that we were a company of poor creatures who had escaped from slavery in Algiers, and we hoped that he would show mercy to the afflicted. This honest farmer, moved with our relation, sent us out bread, water, and olives. He then called us into his house and gave us some good warm bean pottage, which seemed to me the most pleasant food that ever I ate in my life.

Taking our leave, we advanced towards the city of Mayork, which from that place was about ten miles. The next morning, we came into the suburbs of the city. The strangeness of our attire, being bare-foot, bare-legged, having nothing on but loose coats over our shirts, drew a crowd of enquirers about us, asking who we were, from whence we came, and whither we went. We gave them an account of our deliverance, with its circumstances, and they accommodated us with food, wine, and strong waters, and whatever else might recover our exhausted spirits. These people also gathered us money to buy us clothes and shoes, so that we soon wanted nothing that nature called for.

And so ended this part of my adventures…

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William Okeley eventually made it back to England in September 1644—slightly over five years after he had originally been captured.

In putting together the series of posts that tell his story, I have abridged the original considerably and modernized both the spelling and vocabulary.

Okeley’s book, first published in 1675, had an impressive title: Eben-Ezer, or, A small monument of great mercy appearing in the miraculous deliverance of William Okely, William Adams, John Anthony, John Jephs, and John, carpenter, from the miserable slavery of Algiers.

For those who may be interested in the unabridged original version of the story, you can access the 1675 edition of Eben-Ezer at the Internet Archive. Here’s the link:

https://archive.org/details/ebenezerorsmallm00okelrich/page/n5