THE GAME OF RISK AND REWARD – PART 2

(This post is a continuation of The Game of Risk and Reward – Part 1. If you haven’t done so already, it’s best to read that post before continuing on here.)

The five Algerian corsair galleys drew up in formation just out of cannon range from the Dutch merchant ship, which, because of the lack of wind, was unable to maneuver.

Alli Pegelin sent out an emissary—a Dutch renegado—with a white flag.

Easing up to within hailing distance of the Dutch ship, this emissary called out: “The great Captain General, Alli Pegelin, has sent me to tell you that if you will yield now, without a fight, he vows he will set you and all your men free on Christian ground. This he has sworn by the Grand Seignior’s head.”

The Dutch captain said nothing.

“If you are wise,” the emissary went on, “you will accept the offer I make to you from the great Captain General while there is still time.” He paused. “Otherwise… I fear you will repent your error.”

The Dutch captain remained silent for a long few seconds. Then he said, “This ship belongs to its owners, and the cargo it carries belongs to the merchants who paid to have it shipped. I cannot surrender that which is not mine to give. Moreover, I know Alli Pegelin far too well to place any trust in him, for I was a slave in Algiers once. Tell him I will not yield. But if he wishes to have this ship, let him, instead, come aboard, and he shall see whether we can satisfy him or not.”

The renegado emissary returned with this answer.

Alli Pegelin was incensed by what he considered the Dutch Captain’s insolence, and he ordered the galleys to immediately draw up into a half-moon formation and row towards the stern of the Dutch ship, for the Dutch captain could not defend himself from that direction since there were no cannon mounted on that part of the ship.

At that moment, however, there was a small breath of wind, just enough to allow the Dutch captain, who was a seaman of extraordinary skill, to swing his ship about. This caused immediate confusion among the corsairs in the galleys, who suddenly found themselves looking into the mouths of ten cannons arrayed along the side of the Dutch ship’s hull.

In a frantic effort to regroup so that they were once again in position facing the stern of the Dutch ship, several of the galleys fouled each other. Only Alli Pegelin’s galley churned ahead. Bellowing encouragements, Alli Pegelin ordered a contingent of his men to board the Dutch ship. As the prow of his galley crashed into the Dutch Ship’s hull, close to seventy corsairs scrambled aboard, brandishing scimitars and guns, tossing home-made grenades ahead of them first to clear the decks.

The Dutch captain, however, anticipated this maneuver and had withdrawn his men into the protection of the cabins in the ship’s bow and stern. As the corsairs hauled themselves onto the midship deck, the Dutchmen opened fire on them with muskets, catching the corsairs in the crossfire.

Alli Pegelin’s galley, meanwhile, pulled away, for he had realized that the Dutch ship was so heavily laden and rode so low in the water that the belowdecks cannons were on a level with the corsair galleys, and he did not at all wish to be caught by a broadside at point blank range.

The galley’s sudden withdrawal caught the corsairs who had boarded the Dutch ship by surprise. Those who could swim leaped hastily overboard and tried to rejoin the retreating galley. The wounded, and those who could not swim, were forced to remain. In a desperate attempt to take the ship, they rushed the forecastle cabin but were driven back.

At this point, the Dutch captain commanded his belowdecks gunners to fire a broadside. The gunners had loaded their cannons with musket balls, nails, and pieces of iron. When they fired off the broadside, dozens of corsairs were cut to pieces and killed. The Dutch captain ordered another broadside, and another. Before the corsair galleys could all get completely out of range, nearly two hundred of the men aboard them had been slain or gravely wounded.

Meanwhile, the corsairs who had boarded the Dutch ship were still desperately assaulting the stern and bow cabins. They could not dislodge the Dutch crew from their positions, though, and, left with little in the way of options, those who were able began climbing the rigging to try to get the advantage of height. The Dutch crew immediately poured out onto the deck and shot the corsairs down from where they hung from the shrouds and about the masts, picking them off one by one.

And so ended Alli Pegelin’s final corso expedition of the season.

Close to half the galley crews were killed or mutilated, including many of the slaves on the rowing benches who were needed to get the galleys back to port. Two of the galley Captains were killed, and the Caja of Tripoli had lost an arm and was wounded in the belly.

The galleys limped back to Algiers as best they could.

When they were first spotted approaching the harbor, the people of Algiers were puzzled. They could make out five galleys, but two of them had no flags flying. At first, it was thought that these were Spanish galleys that had been captured. Soon enough, though, it became clear that this was Alli Pegelin’s corso expedition returning, and that the lack of flags meant the captains of those vessels had been killed.

When an Algerian corso expedition had been successful, they fired off a celebratory cannonade as they entered the harbor. Alli Pegelin’s galleys came in slowly, from the lack of rowers, and fired off no cannons. Those on shore had been poised to rejoice in yet another victorious corso cruise by the celebrated head of the Taifa. But their hopes turned to dismay as the details of what had happened became known.

The wounded were brought ashore, including the Caja of Tripoli. The Caja called immediately for his personal surgeon, a European slave who was renowned for his skill. “Cure me,” he said, “and I will grant you your freedom and give you as well a hundred patacoons.” But the Caja’s belly wound was too severe. Try as he might, there was nothing the surgeon could do.

The Caja resigned himself to death then and made out his will. In it, he granted freedom to his slaves, including the surgeon.

His body, draped in a silk covering, was carried through the narrow Algiers streets in a solemn procession. His freed slaves marched before it. The surgeon came behind. In his hand he carried a cleft staff, with a letter in the cleft containing the official document attesting to his freedom. He wept openly, as was expected of him at the passing of his master.

Some people, though, said he wept for joy.

Alli Pegelin, wily commander that he was, had survived the disastrous confrontation with the Dutch ship without any hurt. He wasted little time on regrets but instead focused his energy during the winter that followed on restocking his supply of galley slaves and refitting his galleys.

The next spring he went out on the corso again. That season, though, he chose a different set of galley captains to hunt with and had far better luck.

The Dutch captain delivered his cargo safely and continued to ply his trade.

Rough times.

Rough men.

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The story recounting in this two-part post is based on “Relation II, De la valeur d’un Capitaine Hollandois qui se deffendit seul contre cinq Galeres Turques, & les mit en déroute” (“Of the valor of a Dutch Captain who defended himself against five Turkish Galleys and routed them”) in Emmanuel d’Aranda’s Relation de la captivité et liberté du sieur Emanuel d’Aranda, mené esclave à Alger & mis en liberté en 1642 (Relation of the captivity and freedom of Sieur Emanuel d’Aranda, made a slave in Algiers & released in 1642), first published in 1656.