AN AMERICAN IN ALGIERS – PART 14

This week, we conclude the series of excerpts taken from the captivity narrative of John Foss, the American who, in October, 1793, was captured by Barbary corsairs from Algiers.

Last week’s excerpt described the spectacularly unsuccessful expedition against Algiers launched by Charles V, the Spanish Habsburg Emperor, in 1541.

This week’s excerpt describes how John Foss was finally ransomed and left Algiers. _________________________________________________________________________________________

While we were waiting for our ransom payments to be arranged, the plague, that fatal epidemical disorder, had spread its alarm in the country adjacent. And it soon made its appearance (for the second time, during my captivity) in the city, which ended the lives of many of my fellow countrymen—when they were expecting every day to be called free men.

The long and tedious days passed, as they had done before, with the expectation of liberty in every incoming sail. But (O! horrible to relate) at length the time specified was expired and no money had arrived. We expected every moment to hear the awful sentence of slavery for life passed upon us. What else could we expect or even hope from a ferocious absolute Monarch, like Hassan Bashaw, one of the genuine children of Ishmael, whose “hands was against every man, and every man’s hand against him.”

But instead of the terrible sentence of continued slavery, the next sound which echoed in our ears was the joyful news of approaching Liberty. For Mr. Barlow [the American Envoy to Algiers], on seeing that the time wherein the money was to be produced had already passed, and neither tidings nor money having appeared, and being fearful least the Dey should be become exasperated with the delay, he used his utmost efforts to procure the required funds in Algiers.

He accordingly obtained a promise from Mr. Machio Baccri, (who was a Jew belonging to the Regency) that he would advance him, one hundred and eighty thousand dollars, in the course of three of four days, which was the sum required for the ransom of the American captives.

The Dey (on being informed of this by Mr. Barlow) at first refused to let us go, since the money to pay for the peace had not arrived. However, he at last consented to take it, and set us at liberty.

On the 5th of July, we were informed by a letter from Mr. Barlow that we might expect to be at liberty within three or four days. But advised us not to put too much dependence on it, for, says he, “The heart of your Pharoah may be again hardened.” He however assured us that he had no doubt but we should be free men within three days, for the Dey had agreed to accept the money, and it should be paid as soon as it could be counted.

This filled our hearts with joy, and we imagine ourselves the happiest people in the world.

For a long period we had been suffering the most inhuman slavery, loaded with almost an insupportable weight of chains, and were now expecting to enjoy liberty, the greatest blessing human beings ever possessed. And our expectations at this time were not visionary nor unfounded, as had so often been the case with us before, for it proved to be a happy reality.

What a joyful night was this. We passed it with praises to our kind deliverer and sanguine anticipations of ensuing freedom. Our stoney floors on which we laid were apparently softer than beds of down. The chains on our legs were seemingly of no weight. Our cruel taskmasters now looked on us with smiling countenances and congratulated us on our good fortune in the following singular manner: “Sanzafidas droak imche il blaedic, ila kelp ou Romi.” In English, this is: “You unbelievers, now you are going to the country of Christian dogs.”

On the 10th at day break in the morning, all hands were called as usual. A few minutes before the time that the doors are opened for the slaves to go out to work, we were notified by the Bagnio Keeper that all the people taken under the American flag must stay in the Bagnio and hold themselves in readiness to go to the Dey’s palace and receive our tiscaras, or passports from the Dey, and that we should be embarked the next morning.

However it so happened that the Dey could not attend, to give us our tiscaras that night, though he had received the money.

This long and tedious night was spent, in anxious expectation of hearing the sweet sound of Liberty echo in our ears on the approaching morning. And O! glorious event, this was the last night we ever spent in that gloomy dungeon, that horrible mansion of wretchedness and misery.

On the 11th, we were again notified by the Bagnio Keeper that we must be ready to go to the Dey’s palace for our passports. A short time after the slaves of other nations had gone out to work, we were all called out of the Bagnio into the street, where we were received by the Dey’s chief clerk, who conducted us to the palace. There, each man received his tiscara from the Dey.

At 9 o’clock AM, we all embarked on board a ship belonging to Mr. Machio Baccri. This vessel had formerly been an English transport (the Bridget of London) but had been captured by the French Republicans and brought into Algiers and there condemned. On board this ship were also forty eight Neapolitans, who had been ransomed a few days before us.

Oh! what a glorious sight. Now could we behold the stripes and stars flying with honor where they had so often been hoisted with contempt. Every tongue was uttering, long live the humane and benevolent Barlow. O! Happy day, O! Happy day.

While we Americans were enjoying the fruits of this happy event, there was nothing to be heard from the slaves of other nations but the most bitter curses heaped upon their governments and Sovereigns. They being chiefly of the Roman Catholic Religion, they are taught that they are the only true Christians, and having now seen the Dutch and Americans liberated, and they neglected, it exasperated them to such a degree that they would exclaim in the most violent language against their Priests, Sovereigns, and religion. “Why,” said they, “are we, who are true Christians, unnoticed by our country and suffered to remain here in slavery while the Protestants, who are no more than degenerated Christians, are daily emancipated, and are not suffered to wear the yoke of slavery.” They would say to each other, “Behold what examples of humanity are now set by the Protestants and how little they are noticed by the Roman Catholic governments.”

These and similar expressions, were in the mouths of every slave whom we left behind.

On the 12th, we received provisions on board and got the ship ready for sea. On this day Joseph Rogers, belonging to Salisbury, on the Merrimack river, paid the great debt of nature. He was attacked with the plague on the 10th and remained in the hospital on shore. On the 13th at 5 AM, we got under way and stood to sea.

At 7 A M, we found a Neapolitan below sick with the plague. We then tacked and stood into the bay again and made signals for the harbor master to come on board. He boarded us at nine and took the sick man on shore

We then tacked and stood to sea again with a fresh breeze from the east, destined for Livorno.

At 4 P M, to our great joy and satisfaction, we lost sight of the Barbary shore.

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For those who may be interested…

The above excerpt from John Foss’s narrative comes from A journal, of the captivity and sufferings of John Foss; several years a prisoner at Algiers: together with some account of the treatment of Christian slaves when sick—and observations on the Manners and Customs of the Algerines, second edition, originally published in 1798, pp. 141-146.

As usual, I have lightly edited and abridged the original text to make it more accessible for modern readers.