Tim Severin - Corsair

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1677, on a late summer’s evening two ships lurk off the coast of southwest Ireland. They are Barbary corsairs from North Africa, slave catchers. As soon as it is dark, their landing parties row ashore to raid a small fishing village - on the hunt for fresh prey . . . In the village, seventeen-year-old Hector Lynch wakes to the sound of a pistol shot. Moments later he and his sister Elizabeth are taken prisoner. From then on Hector’s life plunges into a turbulent and lawless world that is full of surprises. Separated from Elizabeth, he is sold to the slave market of Algiers, where he survives with the help of his newfound friend Dan, a Miskito Indian from the Caribbean. The two men convert to Islam to escape the horrors of the slave pens, only to become victims of the deadly warfare of the Mediterranean. Serving aboard a Turkish corsair ship, their vessel is sunk at sea and they find themselves condemned to the oar as galley slaves for France. Driven by his quest to find his sister, Hector finally stumbles on the chilling truth of her fate when he and Dan are shipwrecked on the coast of Morocco . . .

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Dunton dropped down softly on the deck beside Hector. ‘Friend or foe?’ he murmured. ‘The Religion doesn’t normally operate in this area, though they’ve got eight large galleys in their fleet, about the same size as Izzet , which would give us a run for our money.’

‘The Religion? Who are they?’ whispered Hector.

‘The Knights of the Order of St John of Jerusalem. A bunch of nobles who act like pirates when it suits them, and from the best families in Europe. Claim they are fighting for the Cross. Hate Barbary corsairs. They operate out of Malta. One of their petty officers was a slave shipwright alongside me in the Arsenal.’ Dunton stopped talking as the aga scowled at him, demanding silence as he also listened, trying to locate the direction of the approaching ship.

Several minutes passed, and it became clear that the unknown vessel was moving at a leisurely pace. The splashes of the oars were slow and unhurried, the sound increasing only gradually. Izzet ’s own rowers settled in their places and dipped the blades of their thirty-foot-long sweeps quietly into the sea, awaiting orders. Some were looking expectantly towards Turgut on the stern deck, others half-turned, trying to peer out into the mist. Abruptly, through the mist, came a cry, ‘Sieme! Sieme!’ Dunton mouthed, ‘Together! Together!’ and made a rowing gesture. Moments later, a dark patch in the mist became the unmistakable shape of an oared vessel, and there was a startled shout, ‘Aia! What ship?’ ‘ Izzet Darya ! In the Name of Allah,’ roared back Turgut. The advancing galley had stopped rowing, but her momentum carried her forward so that she could be clearly seen as a brigantine, an oared vessel about half the size of Izzet Darya . ‘Merhaba, welcome! From what port?’ called Turgut. ‘From Djidjelli. Corsan!’ The tension aboard Izzet Darya relaxed. ‘Fellow corsairs from Barbary,’ explained Dunton. ‘Hunting the same patch of sea.’

Hector’s knowledge of Turkish was good enough to follow the shouted conversation between Turgut and the captain of the newcomer. The brigantine had been on the corso for less than a week, and had managed to intercept three infidel vessels, two Spanish and the third French. None of the prizes were very valuable, but the captain of the French ship had curried favour with his captors by telling the corsairs that he had sighted a large merchantman, of unknown nationality, hull down on the horizon and apparently heading towards Leghorn. In pursuit of this potential prize the brigantine had ventured north hoping to intercept the vessel which would now be delayed by the calm. ‘Have you seen any of those shaitans from Malta?’ called Turgut.

‘No, nothing. It’s too early in the season for them. They like to lie in bed with their harlots,’ came the reply.

‘Will we join forces then?’ enquired Turgut.

‘D’accordo!’ came back the reply. ‘One hand makes nothing, two hands make a sound.’

Turgut smiled into his beard at the Turkish proverb as he called back, ‘We wait until the mist lifts, then spread out but stay in sight of one another, and cruise northward.’

‘Agreed! And may Allah go with us.’

‘Our luck has changed!’ said Turgut cheerfully, coming back across the deck. ‘Let the storemen issue a double ration so we may eat our fill, and be ready for what fortune brings.’ Dunton went forward to rejoin his shipmates and, as Dan took his meals with the odjaks, who had their own achtchi or camp cook, Hector found himself seated on the aft deck with the captain and his officers as they ate a simple meal of falafel and bread. From time to time the captain glanced across at the brigantine which lay hove-to half a musket shot away. He continued to be in a good mood.

‘Allah has been kind to us,’ he said to Hector. ‘Having a second ship means we can sweep a wider swathe of sea in search of prizes. And should we find only small coasters, the brigantine is fast enough to catch them easily. It will save us from having to lower our ship’s boats, and that means fewer visitas for you.’

‘The brigantine comes from Djidjelli,’ Hector observed. ‘Already you have a drawing of their harbour in your files, but if you wish I could go across and interview their captain and update the information.’

‘Maybe later,’ answered Turgut. ‘Less than four years ago I was in their port, not a good harbour, shallow and exposed but adequate if you want to take on supplies. The ruler of Djidjelli acknowledges the Dey as his overlord, and we leave him to his own devices. Just so that he does not interfere with our corsos. The same is true of Bougie a short distance down the coast. Let us hope that his information about the rich merchant ship turns out to be correct.’

‘Your excellency, if we do find and capture this ship how would we divide the spoils? The brigantine brought the news, so does her crew have first choice?’

‘A shrewd question, and the answer is that together we return to Algiers, with our prize. In Algiers the division is made by a court of arbitration composed of senior reis who decide on matters of precedence, acts of valour in the fight and so forth.’

‘And do they also decide who receives the prisoners as their reward?’

‘Of course. Often the value of the prisoners exceeds the value of the captured hull.’

‘And if we capture women, for example, where would they be held?’

Turgut looked at Hector searchingly. ‘Do you have a special reason to ask that question, and is that why you volunteered to visit the brigantine?’

‘Forgive me for asking, effendi. When I was taken by the corsair Hakim Reis, my sister was also captured. She was placed on one ship, while I was kept on another. Since that time I have not seen her. I wish to learn what might have happened to her, and where she is now.’

‘Tell me the details, as best as you remember them.’

Hector recounted the story of his capture and when he finished his account, Turgut paused to take a sip of coffee before replying, ‘I did not meet Hakim Reis after that venture when he raided Ireland. He was always lucky on the corso, quick to pick up prizes and welcome in any port to sell them. It would be normal for him to keep the women captives apart from their menfolk. I would do the same myself. The men are less likely to make trouble if they see their women could be punished. But I would have expected Hakim Reis and his escorting vessel to have entered their final harbour together and disposed of the booty in the same market place. That makes the final division of the profits easier as I have explained. I can only suppose that something happened to separate Hakim Reis from his raiding consort. You mentioned some sort of exchange of gunfire.’

‘And where might the other ship have gone?’ asked Hector. ‘Could it have gone to Djidjelli or to Bougie? Is that where I should look for my sister?’

‘If you volunteered to visit the brigantine in order to ask if anyone knew about her, then I’m afraid your enquiry would have been futile. Had the women captives been sold in Djidjelli, or Bougie for that matter, the news would have reached Algiers which is not so far away. No, I think your sister was taken farther afield.’ Seeing the disappointment in Hector’s face, he added, ‘You must not be too hard on yourself. Consider your own captivity. You must admit, it has not turned out to be so disastrous. Here you are aboard a fine ship and one of Muhammad’s people. Hakim Reis was right when he told you that, with luck, you could yourself rise to command. For all you know, your sister might be much happier than you fear.’

‘It is difficult to think with such optimism, effendi. I still feel responsible for her well-being.’

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