THE ADVENTURES OF WILLIAM OKELEY: A CAPTIVE’S TALE – PART 5

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

It had to be admitted that once our thoughts cooled, and we came more sedately to look into the difficulties of escaping Algiers, those difficulties appeared innumerable, some indeed seemed insuperable.

Where this boat we planned to escape in should be built was one staggering question. Where it should be launched, and where put to sea was another. How should we avoid the eyes which always observed us? How were we to get out of the city by night, a city whose walls are so high and whose gates are so close-shut and strongly guarded?  How should we rig and victual our ship for such a voyage? And would such a little skiff, rather than boat, be able to weather all the accidents of the sea?

These issues seemed enough to strangle faith in the men I had engaged in this exploit, and stifle them with despair.

But I answered that my own cellar, where I stored merchandise, was the place wherein to build the boat. When it was there built, it might be taken in pieces again, carried out of the city in parcels, and bestowed in private places till things were ripe for the execution of our plan. As for a place where to put to sea: it would be time enough to determine upon that when we had finished our vessel. In general, I told them that if we never attempted anything till we had answered all objections, we must sit with our fingers in our mouths all our days, and pine and languish out our tedious lives in bondage. Let us make an essay, I said, and answer particular objections as they offered themselves.

In the end, all were satisfied by what I said and all engaged to venture the utmost they could to accomplish everything required.

So we began our work in the cellar. First, we acquired a piece of timber about 12 feet long to make the keel. But it would be impossible to convey a piece of timber of that length out of the city, for it would be seen and recognized for what it was. Suspicion would bring us into examination and the rack or the battoon, which could extort a confession out of even the most resolved and obstinate breast. So we perforce cut it in two pieces, and fitted it for jointing in the middle. Our next care was the ribs of the boat, which we contrived thus. Each one was made of three pieces and jointed in two places, because a whole rib, at its full length, would present the same inconveniences as the keel. The joints were not made with mortise and tenon, but the flat side of one of the three pieces was laid over the other, and two holes were bored at every joint, into which nails were to be put when we should join the pieces of our boat together:

There remained the question of the boards to clothe the naked ribs of our boat, without which the keel and timbers were but useless anatomy. But neither had we, nor was it possible we should get, any boards for our vessel. For the jointing of these boards, and the nailing of them to make the boat watertight, would require much hammering, and that hammering would make such a clamorous echo in the cellar as would have drawn upon us the jealous eyes of the Algerines, who about their wives and slaves are insupportably suspicious. Therefore, from the first conception of the design, I always resolved upon a canvas cover. In pursuance of this, we bought as much strong canvas as would cover the hull of our boat twice over. We also purchased as much pitch, tar, and tallow as would serve to make it a kind of a tarpaulin to swaddle the naked body of our infant boat, along with earthen pots to melt down our materials in.

The two carpenters and myself were appointed to this service, and the cellar was the place, in the dark of night, where we were to do the work. Matters had hitherto run on very evenly and smoothly, but here we met with discouragement. For we had stopped all the chinks and crannies of the cellar, so that the steam of the melted materials might not creep out and betray us, (there being no chimney). I was forced to go out into the streets to gasp for breath, where I swooned, fell down, broke my face, and there lay. My companions were little better off.

At length, we resolved to set the cellar door wide open, and as soon as that was done, and the steam pretty well gone out, we came to ourselves again and went on with our business and applied one half of the pitch that night. The next night we met again, set open the door, and whilst they plied the work, I stood sentinel at the door to give notice of approaching danger. We thus happily finished the whole, and while it was yet dark, carried it to my shop, which was about a furlong from the cellar, and there secured it.

Now we laid our heads together and plotted how to convey everything out of the town and lodge the pieces in secure and trusty places.

First came our keel. With unanimous consent, we judged William Adams the fittest person to execute that part of the design, for he had long exercised the trade of a bricklayer, and his employment lay much without the town, and besides he used such pieces in levelling his work. He therefore went out, his apron before him, his trowel in his hand, and one of the pieces upon his shoulder. Without the least observation, he went cleverly away with it, and, when he saw his opportunity, hid it in the bottom of a hedge. Not long after, he conveyed out its fellow, and lodged it in the same place.

As for the ribs, by general consent, the conveying of these out of the city was committed to one whose employment was to wash small cloths by the seaside.  He put them into his bag amongst his cloths, and so very orderly carried them out, and hid them where he could find the most commodious stowage, but yet with respect to nearness to that place were the keel was hid.

Conveying our boat’s tarpaulin out of town was the most difficult. By night it was impossible, and by day the difficulties very considerable, for the gates were strictly watched, the streets crowded, with spies on every corner, and the bulkiness of the canvas thus dressed was very great. To divide it would have been to ruin ourselves, for no stitching together again could so cheat the searching water, but it would find out the needle-holes.

At last, we ventured upon this way: we stuffed the canvas it into a large sack and committed it to him that washed cloths. Lest any should clap a jealous hand upon it, we put a pillow over our canvas within the bag, so that its softness might delude the inquisitor and make it pass for cloths. Our agent escaped happily with it, and lodging it in a secret place, returned.

So far, we had net with success in our endeavors, but we had yet many things to provide. Oars were absolutely necessary, for as fins are the fish’s oars, so oars are the boat’s fins. We also had to consider the provision that must be laid in for our voyage. A sail was also of right good use to us for expedition, and therefore we bought as much canvas as would answer that end. All these materials we successfully conveyed out of the town.

At last the hour was upon us. We comforted and encouraged one another, and entered into close counsel regarding where we should meet that night, at what time, where we should put our boat together, and where put to sea. We settled on an hour within night, the rendezvous to be on a hill about half a mile from the sea. We then dispersed, some one way, some another, secretly lurking in hedges and ditches, and lay close till the time appointed.

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To find out how events unfolded from here, go to The Adventures of William Okeley: A Captive’s Tale – Part 6.