THE FEMALE CAPTIVE – PART 1

Last week’s post in this blog contained an excerpt from Francis Brooks’ Barbarian Cruelty that told the unhappy story of a woman captured by Salé corsairs in the 1680s. As I mentioned in that post, there are very few captivity narratives about women. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that throughout the time of the Barbary corsairs—roughly 1500 – 1800—European captivity narratives tended to be written by men, about men, for men.

There are a few exceptions, though.

One of those exceptions is Elizabeth Marsh, who was captured by Salé corsairs in 1756.

This puts her a little outside the usual purview of this blog, which deals mainly with the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, but since there is such a dearth of full-length captivity narratives written by women during those centuries, the only way to bring in a woman’s story is to expand the time period.

Elizabeth Marsh was born in 1735. Her family lived in that liminal zone between respectable affluence and shameful poverty. As a girl, she received what could be termed a “genteel” education. As a woman, her fate was to marry a man and tie her fortunes to him—which she did. Before that happened, though, when she was only twenty-one and still unmarried, she had the bad luck to be aboard a ship captured by corsairs from Salé.

Thanks to her family connections, she was able to avoid the fate of the poor young “virgin” in last week’s post, though she spent a very unpleasant few months in captivity in Morocco.

Back in England, she composed a narrative of her experience, somewhere around 1760. It was published anonymously in 1769, under the title The Female Captive: A Narrative of Facts Which Happened in Barbary in the Year 1756, Written by Herself.

The style of the narrative is, in some ways, a little reminiscent of Jane Austin’s. Austen was born a generation after Marsh (in 1775), but the voices of the two writers echo each other, and it is not too difficult to imagine Elizabeth Bennet aboard the ship in place of Elizabeth Marsh (though Elizabeth Marsh lacks Elizabeth Bennet’s lively intellect and force of will).

Here, then, is Elizabeth Marsh’s narrative.

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I was the daughter of a gentleman whose principles and abilities procured him a very respectable employment under the government, on the island of Minorca. We resided in this place until a war commenced between Great Britain and France, which occasioned our removal, for our safety, to the garrison of Gibraltar. We had been happily situated in Minorca, and this change would have been very disagreeable to me if I had not been under an engagement with a gentleman who was stationed in Gibraltar, and the pleasing hopes of meeting him made my departure less irksome for me than it otherwise might have been.

I was, therefore, greatly disappointed on my arrival to find him gone. However, his servant, whom he had left behind, delivered me a letter in which he informed me of his having been obliged to sail to England, and he earnestly requested that I follow him as soon as I conveniently could.

Very fortunately, at that time an opportunity presented itself in the form of a merchant ship which, along with many others, was to be convoyed as far as Lisbon. A friend of my family, a Mr. Crespo, who was going as a passenger, convinced me to solicit my family’s permission to return to England. At first, they were unwilling to grant this, but knowing Mr. Crespo was to go on the same ship, to whose care they thought I could be entrusted, they eventually consented, and my father acquainted that gentleman with his intention. He, with great pleasure accepted charge, and he assured my father that nothing which he could prevent should happen to me while I was under his protection.

The time of our departure arrived, and I parted with my family and embarked on board the ship. We were supposed to be part of the convoy protected by the naval warship, but we were unhappily deserted by that ship soon after we lost sight the garrison at Gibraltar. When our captain perceived the warship’s intention of leaving us, he put on all the sail he could in an unsuccessful attempt to keep up with it, so much so that our lives were endangered, for there was six feet of water in the hold before anyone knew of it, which obliged the sailors to be at the pumps, and only with much difficulty did they save the ship from sinking.

I was entirely ignorant of the danger we had been in until it was over, when my friend told me of the alarm that we had met with and that it proceeded for the captain having crowded on too much sail.

From this unfortunate accident, I date the whole of my misfortunes, for very soon after that, our ship was chased by a vessel which our captain at first imagined to be a French privateer, but on further inspection found be a Sally rover [a corsair ship from Salé]. This vessel soon caught up to us, and it was thought more prudent to wait for them than, by trying to escape, run a risk of being put to death if they should attack us, for they were well armed and very numerous.

The Moorish commander instantly came on board and inquired into the number of passengers. Our captain thought it proper to bring him into the cabin where we were waiting, and, after asking a number of unnecessary questions, he told the gentleman (there being two others besides my friend) that they were to accompany him to his ship. He promised only to detain them for half an hour, upon which they attended him.

I made myself tolerably easy until night drew on, when fear seized my spirit at their not returning at the time appointed. I continued in that state until morning, which brought on new afflictions, for instead of seeing the gentlemen returning, I saw boats crowded with Morris rowing towards our ship. They came aboard, and the sailors from our ship were sent on board theirs.

In this miserable situation, I remain for three days, until I had the pleasure to finally see my friend return. He told me that he had, with much difficulty, obtaining leave from the admiral of the corsair cruiser to visit me, telling him that I was his sister. But his permission was under restrictions. My friend stayed and dined with me, but then he unwillingly took his leave, the time being elapsed which had been granted him. I was in great distress at this second separation through dread of being exposed to those merciless Moors who would certainly have behaved very insolently had it not been for the steward, who was a good man and prevented them from tormenting me with their impertinent discourses.

As soon as the next day dawned, the admiral and officers of the corsair cruiser came on board and brought an interpreter with them who, in bad English, told me I must go with them, which alarmed me exceedingly. I desired to know what they intended to do with us, and reminded them that a truce had lately been concluded between the courts of Great Britain and Morocco. The corsair admiral replied that no harm would be done me, but that they simply wanted our assistance in navigating the ship, for they had missed their coast. I did not know whether to believe this or not, but, having little in the way of choice, I acceded to his command.

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For those who may be interested, the above except comes from pages 1-14 of Volume 1 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 other such excepts from books gone by, I have taken some editorial license and lightly revised the original text to make it more accessible for modern casual readers.