This week, we continue with the narrative of Elizabeth Marsh, who was captured by corsairs from Salé in the summer of 1756. In last week’s post, Ms. Marsh and her companions were just about to leave Salé for “Morocco”—Morocco being the seventeenth century name for what we today refer to as the city of Marrakesh, in southwestern Morocco. At that time, Morocco/Marrakesh was the seat of the Alaouite Sultan, Mohammed III, whom Marsh refers to as Sidi Mohammed (the Alaouite dynasty still rules Morocco today). We pick up the story as Elizabeth Marsh and company are departing from Salé.
I was deeply affected by our parting from our hospitable friends. They had been so solicitous as to provide plentiful provisions for the journey we were about to undertake, and they also made us a present of a tent along with all the necessities belonging thereunto.
These gentlemen, attended by the Governor, walked with us as we left the town in order to keep the crowd, which was prodigiously great, in some sort of order. When we were a quarter of a mile from the place, we parted and mounted our horses. My friend, the other passengers, the Captain, and the ship’s company riding on pack saddles, me on the saddle that Mr. Razzily had contrived for me—though we had not proceeded many miles before I discovered that it was most uncomfortable. But I thought it useless to complain, as there appeared no remedy.
We stopped at 7 o’clock in the evening on a large plain, where we decided to pitch our tent. The road had been tolerably good, but we had traveled at the tedious rate of four miles an hour.
Our trusted friend Don Pedro, the slave of the Sultan, had accompanied us thus far, and I believe he would gladly have remained with us, since he well knew the many inconveniences we should be exposed without his assistance. He seemed remarkably pensive and very observant of me, which I was displeased with and thought his behavior ungenteel—until I overhead what he said in conversation with my friend, which was much to the following effect:
“Sir, I must beg you excuse the liberty I am about to take and to be attentive to some advice I must offer you concerning this young lady. As a Christian, I cannot but be deeply affected by your misfortunes, but the danger your fair companion is exposed to gives me inexpressible concern. I therefore hope you will be persuaded to comply with my instructions.
“The anxiety I am under on her account induced me to accompany you as far as this day’s journey, and I wish from my soul it was in my power to continue it with you, but as that cannot be, I have determined once more to represent to you how very necessary it is for her safety that you should pass for her husband.
“I have been a slave to Sidi Mohammed since the year 1750, and you must conclude that I cannot be unacquainted with his temper and his inclinations. Such, I can assure you, is his despotic power that if she is at all to be preserved from being detained in the Seraglio, it must be by means by the means above proposed.”
My friend argued the impossibility of his acting the part of my husband, as he had hitherto publicly assumed the character of my brother.
That difficulty was obviated, however, by Don Pedro assuring him that he would undertake to settle the matter: namely, by writing a letter to John Arvona, a fellow slave in Morocco, and giving it in confidence to a Moor who was in the caravan, advising this Moor to be as expeditious as possible in delivering this letter in order that he might be there a day or two before us.
In this letter to the said slave, Don Pedro would desire him to acquaint Sultan Sidi Mohammed with the fact that my friend and I had been misrepresented and that we were married and had been going to settle in England when we were captured. Don Pedro would give the Moor at the same time instructions to spread this report in the palace and throughout the city of Morocco.
My friend, seeing me affected by this conversation, addressed himself to me in a very earnest manner, begging me to be assured of his honor and that no conduct of his would give me the least cause for offense. He only wished to preserve and deliver me safe into the arms of my afflicted parents. He also said that if I approved of what the slave Don Pedro advised, the other passengers, the master, and the seamen would all be acquainted with this deception so that, in case of an examination, everyone might be in on the same story.
This sudden change in my situation shocked me beyond expression, and I could only answer with my tears. My heart was too deeply oppressed for me to be able to give an opinion for or against the idea it. Indeed, I was unable to determine whether I was for or against it.
The arguments of Don Pedro had been very reasonable, however, and I thought most prudent to submit to their judgment and accede to what they thought to be the most expedient pretext given the extremity of our situation.
After that, we sat up the remainder of the night settling this affair with Don Pedro.
Very early the next morning, he took a friendly leave of us, recommending me to the protection of Divine Providence and of the care of my friend. We mounted our mules and took the road to Morocco.
About Noon, we stopped at an old Castle, called Seria, where we were refreshed with eggs and milk, which were very acceptable, the provisions we brought from Salé having been spoiled with the excessive hot weather. The Governor of the place was very civil and the only decent person I had met with since the commencement of our journey, and the first appearance of a decent house that we had encountered was this Castle.
Soon after we left it, I had the misfortune to be thrown from my horse, by which accident I was on the point of being killed. My friend instantly jumped off his mount to assist me. He entreated our guides to stop a little time for me to recover myself, but this they would not agree to. Instead, they told us that we would pitch the tent early in the evening.
(My fall was occasioned by the fellow who led my mule, for he held a grudge against me for complaining of him back at Salé, while he was one of our guards.)
I was again re-seated upon my mount, but in great pain. My friend continued his importunities for a short respite, telling our guides I should certainly die if they did not stop soon. I was incapable of speaking, and my tears never ceased for some hours, on account of the ill treatment I had received. They merely continued assuring us with promises that we should soon stop.
That night, the majority of our caravan, who numbered near 3oo, left my friend, myself, and a few sailors in the care of two men, who were muleteers. What their intentions were by so doing, we could never learn, but it exposed us to great dangers, as the wild Arabs that infest the countryside often surrounded us and asked any number of questions, which frightened me prodigiously.
Some of them, perceiving that I was afraid, desired me not to be alarmed, for they intended us no harm, but I was under the most dreadful apprehension of meeting with others who might not treat us in so civil a Manner.
We traveled many hours over dangerous deserts, and the roarings of the different kinds of wild beasts in the mountains filled me with terror.
After all that had happened, and was likely to happen, I earnestly invoked Heaven to put an end to my days, which promised me such a dismal prospect of nothing but misery, and though I was so far preserved, yet it was only for still greater sorrows to come.
For those who may be interested, the above excerpt comes from pages 67 – 86 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 the previous weeks’ excerpts, I have taken some editorial license and lightly revised Marsh’s original text to make it more accessible for modern casual readers.
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