THE ODYSSEY OF RENÉ DU CHASTELET DES BOYS – PART 3

(This post is a continuation of The Odyssey of René du Chastelet des Boys – Parts 1 & 2. If you haven’t done so already, it’s best to read those posts before continuing on here.)

The ship upon which René du Chastelet des Boys and his companions were passengers, remember, had been captured at sea by a squadron of seven corsair ships from Algiers.

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Of the thirty-two of us aboard our ship, there were only five sent to the Vice Admiral’s ship, all sailors except for me. The others were distributed among the other corsair vessels. We stayed there the rest of that day, throughout the night, and for much of the next day. Then, in the evening, the corsair ships weighed anchor. The Vice-Admiral’s ship, on which I was held, crossed the sea along with the rest for two days, using the mainsail alone, avoiding the land.

On the third day, as they were drawing near the coast of Spain, the ships raised Spanish flags. They did this to disguise their true identity, both in order to be able to surprise any Spanish ships returning from the New World that they might encounter and capture, and to escape the Spanish ships that cruise incessantly in the Strait of Gibraltar. This sort of disguise, using all sorts of different flags—those of Hamburg and Denmark as well as Spain—is the general custom among corsairs.

The younger corsairs, ashamed to have got such a puny amount of booty so far, which was not worth sharing out among seven ships, were of the opinion that their small fleet should reprovision and then continue hunting, in hopes of better success. A council of war was held. The older corsairs wanted the return to Algiers, the younger to continue on.

Before they could resolve the issue, a thunderstorm arose. They recited repeated prayers, lit magically arranged candles, poured oil into the water, and sacrificed four sheep, carving them into quarters and offered them to the sea, but none of this prevented the storm from driving them into the bay of Calis, on the Spanish coast. The pilot, however, was able to come about and cross the Strait of Gibraltar. After that, the corsair ships continued on eastwards in the direction of Algiers—the storm having made their decision for them. The young casuals from among Turks pointed out the cities of Ceuta and Tetuan, the Pégnon de los Velés, and the cape of the Three Forks along the Moroccan coast, as well as Cap Falcon, near Oran, and Cap Ferat along the Algerian coast.

Eventually, we began to approach Algiers and caught sight of its mosques, and we began to be curious in spite of ourselves, for it is one of the great sights on the coast of Mediterranean Africa. From a distance, it looks somewhat like a ship’s sail. As one draws nearer, it resembles the gallery of a theater. Outlying forts defend the city and make the approach to it dangerous and deadly for strangers, for these forts bristle with cannon.

We arrived at midday. The Admiral, Braham-Effendi, being impatient to be seen and recognized by the inhabitants of the town, fired off all his cannons. The other six vessels followed suit. The Vice Admiral’s ship, on which I was, also discharged most of its guns, so that we became dazed by the sound of the artillery, choked by gunsmoke, and poisoned with the smell of sulfur. Following this, we passed the end of the Mole, a long breakwater with a pentagonal fort set at the end of it, studded with cannons, and approached the quay.

A board causeway was put into place, and our miserable troop was led down it onto dry land. From there, we were taken to the Pasha’s palace, accompanied all the way by the sound of trumpets and drums. This barbaric ovation just increased our grief.

At the palace, we each underwent multiple interrogations, sometimes by the Moorish inhabitants of that country, sometimes by long-time slaves, or renegades, or by the Turks, all with the design of determining our countries and our professions. Eventfully, weak from thirst and bathed in sweat, we were taken to a second courtyard of the palace, where an old slave of the Pasha’s presented himself. After receiving a command from the man in charge of us, this slave led us into a room with reeds strewn across the floor, and in which the furniture consisted merely of rush carpets suitable only for a small person to lie on.

The old slave spoke Lingua Franca, which he had learned in the Levant when he was there with his master, the Pasha, who had brought him, along with many others, when he came to Algiers to take up the position of Pasha—Ottoman Governor of the city. It should be noted here that Lingua Franca is a sort of gibberish composed of the Spanish, Italian, and French languages. It came into being because a means of communication between so many nations was necessary. It is used throughout the Levant, especially onboard galleys and sailing ships.

The Pasha’s slave consoled us the best he could, and brought us water, oranges, and lemons. Everyone among us was eager to confer with Estevan (for such was the Slave’s name) and learn from him what our fate might be. But this charitable slave could not provide answers to the questions he was bombarded with. The only clear conclusion was that the next day we would be presented to Issouf Pasha, the Governor, who would claim one fifth of us at his due.

At this point, two young men, dressed in the Turkish style, appeared and greeted us civilly in Lingua Franca. The youngest asked me the place of my embarkation and of my birth. I replied that La Rochelle was the one, and Anjou the other. To this, he replied that negotiating my freedom would be difficult, because there was little commerce between those cities and Algiers. He advised me to avoid being chosen by the Pasha if I could, since it would be almost impossible for me to recover my freedom after that, for the Pasha took all his retinue with him when his term as Governor was expired and he returned to the Levant, where he would sell his slaves in Alexandria, or Constantinople, or Cairo, or in other places in that part of the world, and afterwards nobody would ever know where I was.

I thanked him for his advice, and urged him to teach me how to avoid such dangerous patronage. To which he replied that the most assured expedient was to hide any education or skills that I possessed, and that when I was questioned by the Jews who serve as experts to Pasha on such matters, I must say that I was devoid of any education, ignorant of any trade, and merely a simple soldier of fortune.

As we were finishing this conversation, a Biclas with large mustaches—a royal kitchen officer—brought two rolls to each of us. After that, it being already quite late, we succumbed to our weariness and, despite our grief, fell eventually into sleep, trying not to dwell upon what the results might be of our meeting with the Pasha tomorrow.

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For the next installment of René du Chastelet des Boys’ adventures, see The Odyssey of René du Chastelet des Boys – Part 4.

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For those who may be interested…

The above excerpt (which has been considerably abridged) comes from des Boys’ L’Odyssée ou diversité d’aventures, rencontres et voyages en Europe, Asie et Affrique, pp. 19 – 30.