Last week, we followed the narrative of René du Chastelet des Boys, who (like Helgi Jónsson, the young Icelander enslaved to a Bölükbaşı (a janissary captain) in Algiers), was forced to serve aboard a corsair ship.
This week, we conclude des Boys’ narrative.
Last week’s post ended just as the corsair ship aboard which des Boys served encountered a Dutch fluyt (a kind merchant ship) and prepared to give chase. We pick up the story from there.
Keep in mind as you read that des Boys’ story is his own, but that it also depicts the sorts of experiences endured by Helgi Jónsson and other enslaved captives like him (there were many) who found themselves forced to serve aboard Barbary corsair ships.
Joseph Reis, our Captain, called upon Dominque, the oldest of the captives we had taken near the Canary Islands, to know his thoughts on the discovery of this Dutch ship we had spotted. He learned nothing much other than the fact that Dominque had a general distrust of vessels from the Netherlands and that he could not tell if this ship was one of the ones the Canary Islands brigantines were hunting.
This doubtful information left Joseph Reis unsure for a considerable time, for he did not know if the fluyt we were chasing might be filled with men and artillery and might already have defended herself well against the two brigantines. If that were the case, there was little to expect now but an exchange of unwelcome and destructive cannon fire.
His irresolution diminished, though, when the corsairs saw the fluyt raise its sails and change course to flee. Never did a hunting dog leap more quickly after a hare than Joseph Reis’s ship did after that fugitive fluyt. After a chase, the Dutch ship was forced to either surrender or to fight. Those aboard chose the latter, but it was not a very spirited defense. There were, apparently, few among them who were willing to risk their lives, for they eschewed the liquid tomb that desperate maritime defense provides and chose instead to accept bondage in return for staying alive.
After three volleys of cannon fire, to which they replied with but a single shot, they raised a white flag… and the dropping of the sails and the movement of handkerchiefs denoted the surrender of the miserable flute. They then put their ship’s boat in the water and rowed over to receive the orders of Joseph Reis, who, at the same time, dispatched fifteen of his men to board the fluyt.
The Ouda Bachi, my master, was the leader of this group, and I went along with him and his soldiers. We all clambered aboard pell-mell.
The fluyt was carrying a cargo of woad [a plant used to make blue dye] and cedar wood. It was in the employ of merchants from Antwerp who had armed and equipped the ship in Lubeck [in northern Germany]. From there, it had sailed to Terceira [in the Azores], and was on the return leg when it had the unhappy luck to meet with Joseph Reis and his corsairs.
Since slaves share the same common miseries, whether old slaves like me or new ones like those taken from the fluyt, the Ouda Bachi, my master, ordered me to find out everything I could about these new captives of Joseph Reis.
I did what I could to fulfil my slave duty, but yet tried to do so without prejudicing Christian charity, and also without prejudicing the interests of the new captives. Accordingly, I assured the Ouda Bachi that the fluyt’s crew all had no expectation of ever being ransomed and had no other home than their floating wooden house, out of which they had now been driven in perpetuity. The Ouda Bachi put faith in my report and so left the captives alone during the rest of our journey.
Joseph Reis, happy with the booty he had taken, gave orders to return to Algiers.
We had good following winds and soon entered the Strait of Gibraltar, through which we passed without any encounters other than with several small fishing boats which immediately fled back to their ports upon seeing us.
The favorable wind continued, and although this channel that separates Europe from Africa is usually infested with galleys and warships, we sailed thought it without misadventure. At one point, we gave chase to two brigantines from Malaga [a Spanish port about 85 miles/135 kilometers northeast if Gibraltar] that we spotted, but they retreated from us in good order and without fear.
When we reached Algiers, Joseph Reis omitted nothing that could contribute to his triumphant entry: the waving flags of the captured fluyt, the banners, the strident music of trumpets, the firing of the artillery on board… all announced to his friends, and any others waiting interestedly on the shore, the importance of his catch—which consisted of woad, cedar, sugar, and Spanish reales [pieces of eight].
After the ordinary ceremonies, the booty was brought and deposited in some stores near the harbor, except for the Spanish reales, which were loaded upon the shoulders of a few Moors and carried in a procession along with Joseph Reis and the new captives. I followed this procession to the courtyard of the Pasha’s palace, where we were commanded to remain until his return.
The Pasha, alerted by the noise and commotion, soon appeared.
The Ouda Bachi went in to see the Pasha, along with Joseph Reis but ordered me to stay behind and determine the faculties, countries, and ages of the captives they were bringing to the Pasha.
Once the meeting with the Pasha was over, they all came back, apparently fully satisfied. Joseph Reis returned to his home, and the Ouda Bachi returned to the janissary barracks, followed by me.
And so ends des Boys’ tale of his time at sea as a slave to a janissary officer aboard a Barbary corsair ship.
Des Boys’ experience is likely typical. Others in his position—like Helgi Jónsson—must have had similar encounters and performed similar duties: tending to their master’s needs in terms of food and weapons, and serving as liaisons between new captives and their captors.
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Next week, we will return to Helgi’s story and look at how he was ransomed.
The Travels of Reverend Ólafur Egilsson
The story of the Barbary corsair raid on Iceland in 1627
Amazon listing