This week, we continue with the narrative of Elizabeth Marsh. In last week’s post, Ms. Marsh had managed to evade the designs of the Sultan of Morocco, who wished to add her to his harem.
We take up the story from there.
On the next morning, I got up very early to see our friends, the merchants, who heartily congratulated me on my safe return, though they advised me to keep myself still, in appearance ill, and to admit no one to visit me but themselves.
A visitor, however presented himself, to whom it would have been very ungenteel to have denied admittance. His name was Moulay Dris, and he was a Prince of the Blood. He was tall, of a sallow complexion, and had fine black eyes. He was also very polite, and a great friend to the English. He conversed with my friend in Spanish, and when he went away, he wished us well and desired that I should keep up my Spirits, for he did not doubt that all would end well.
I was in continual dread, however, and could get no rest, night or day.
Mister Court was extremely obliging and devoted most of his time to our service. I was much entertained with his agreeable company, his conversation being always new and improving. Providence was particularly kind in providing me, in that country, with so agreeable a companion.
This gentleman and my friend were breakfasting with me, when the latter received a message from the Palace commanding the presence of himself, the other two passengers, as well as the ship’s master and crew. The two merchants were also to come along.
They all accordingly waited upon his Imperial Highness, the Sultan. This worthy told them that the reason for his sending for them was to grant them liberty to proceed on their voyage, and that he would issue proper orders for their journey to Salé.
He explained that he did this despite the indignities he had suffered at the hands of the Ambassador from the court of Great Britain, and the further ill treatment he had met with from the British, who had furnished his rebellious subjects with arms and ammunition. He added that he would set an example of moderation, as well as justice, by permitting us to quit his domains.
The gentlemen no sooner returned than they told me what had passed. I was very happy and flattered myself with hopes that I might, once more, see my dear disconsolate parents.
We supped that night at Mr. Court’s lodgings, and it was the general opinion that we could not set out without proper guards to protect us and letters to the Governor of Salé to ensure he received us as free people.
The next morning, a slave brought us information that the Sultan had altered his intentions, and that he was now determined that we should first go to Saffi, and from thence to Salé. This greatly stupefied us, and we feared he had not been sincere in his first proposal. This was a double mortification, since he had obliged the gentlemen and the ship’s crew to sign a letter to the Governor of Gibraltar, wherein he promised to release us. We now feared that he had only done this to deceive our countrymen and so deter them from demanding our liberty.
We nonetheless made preparations for the journey, though we received no dispatches from the Palace.
That evening, we had a very disagreeable visitor, the messenger who had traveled to Morocco with us. He behaved in a very insolent manner, telling me I was a Moor, and that he hoped his Imperial Highness would oblige me to remain in his Domain.
He demanded fifty pounds for the care he had taken of us on the road. My friend would have treated him as he deserved, but he was a dangerous man to have any dispute with. Therefore, on my account, he gave the man twelve ducats, and he seemed to be tolerably satisfied. After he left us, I was in great distress at what he had said, fearing he might use every artifice he could against me with his Highness.
This prevented me from getting any rest that night.
The next day, however, the wished-for dispatches were brought to us, along with proper guards to attend us to Saffi.
We immediately acquainted the merchants who were to accompany us. They were at the abode of Mr. Andrews, who very kindly invited us to make use of his house during our stay in the part of the country to which we were traveling. We were entirely indebted to those gentlemen for providing necessaries for the journey, it being out of our power to make such a provision.
Our baggage was ready by eight o’clock in the evening, and we walked out of town. We met with no interruption, since the Moors were obliged to retire into the city after sunset, and the Jews were easily kept at a distance from us by our guards.
Mounted on our mules, we soon crossed the river of Morocco and rested there for the night.
Mr. Court had dispatched some of our attendants in advance to prepare the tents and have our supper ready, which was a most comfortable change from that we had experienced on the road from Salé.
We set out early next morning, after breakfasting on milk. The roads were very good, and the prospect of the country extremely delightful.
Mount Atlas, at the back of Morocco, with a chain of mountains about thirty miles before us, presented to our view the most agreeable of objects. We rode close to the Enchanted Mountain, so called from it appearing to travelers to be very near when in fact it was many miles distant. It was dramatically deceiving and drew my attention more than anything I had seen before.
We stopped about noon, for the sun was very hot and made traveling most fatiguing. We dined and then set off again in the evening and passed over a high mountain, the top of which commanded a most heavenly view of the Atlas, the city of Morocco, and its extensive plains.
We then turned out backs on the place, in fervent hope that we had seen the last of it.
For those who may be interested, the above excerpt comes from pages 50 – 66 of Volume 2 of the 1766 edition of Elisabeth Marsh’s The Female Captive: A Narrative of Facts Which Happened in Barbary in the Year 1756, Written by Herself.
As with previous weeks’ excerpts, I have taken some editorial license and revised Marsh’s original text to make it more accessible for modern casual readers.
The Travels of Reverend Ólafur Egilsson
The story of the Barbary corsair raid on Iceland in 1627
Amazon listing