The Pirate City: An Algerine Tale by R. M. Ballantyne (digital book reader .txt) 📖

In a dimly-lighted cell of a massive stone building not far from the palace of the Dey, sat Colonel Langley, Francisco Rimini and his two sons, Bacri the Jew, and the officers and men belonging to the Prometheus—all heavily ironed. The Padre Giovanni was also there, but not, like the others, a prisoner.

He was attending to his self-imposed duty of comforting the sick and dying. Among the other prisoners was an Italian slave, a nobleman, who had broken down on the ramparts and rebelled, and was sent to prison as being the most convenient hospital where he might be kept until the pirates should find leisure to flog him into submission or to death. But Death had a mind to do the work according to his own pleasure. The slave felt himself to be sinking, and, through the influence of Bacri with the jailer, he had been permitted to send for Giovanni. Other slaves were there too, doomed to punishment, or, in other words, to various degrees of torture. They lay or cowered around the cell awaiting the issue of the fight.

It was a terrible sight to see the varied expressions of anxiety, fear, or dogged resolution depicted in the faces of these men. Some of them knew well that death, accompanied by excruciating torture, was certain to be their portion when the bombardment should be over. Others hoped that a severe bastinado might be the worst of it. None expected anything more—even though the British should win the day—than that there would be some modification in treaties which would not extend to the slaves of foreign nations.

They all—with the exception of the Padre—maintained an almost unbroken silence during the bombardment; but their restless motions and glances showed how busy their thoughts were, and a grim smile would ever and anon curl the lips of some when a chance shot struck the building and shook it to its foundation. And oh! how anxiously one or two desperate spirits hoped that a shell would enter it, and scatter sudden death among them all!

It was solemn, and strange, too, in the midst of the interminable thunder, to hear the gentle voice of the man of God quoting from the peace-speaking Word, as he knelt beside the dying man and dwelling more especially on passages in which the loving Jesus seeks to cheer His people with prospects of rest and peace, such as— “Peace be unto you;” “Let not your hearts be troubled, ye believe in God, believe also in me;” “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Even the hardened among the wretched and demoralised sufferers there could not choose but hear and note the powerful contrast between the gentle voice of Almighty God that thus murmured within the prison, and the crashing voice of puny man that roared outside!

In the darkness of that night Bacri crept to the side of Mariano, and whispered hastily—

“I may not get another opportunity to speak to thee. Just before I came hither Angela and her sister were taken from my care by force. They are now in the palace, under the care of Zara. Omar intends to keep them.”

Mariano turned to reply, but the Jew had retired noiselessly as he came.

Early in the morning after the fight the prison-door opened, and a band of Turkish soldiers entered. The garish light of day, as it streamed over the dungeon floor, revealed the fact that the shattered frame of the Italian slave had found rest at last.

The soldiers looked fagged and dishevelled. Many of them wore bandages about their heads and limbs. They did not speak, but drew up in a line, while their leader advanced with a negro, who proceeded to file the fetters from off the British consul and his countrymen. In a few minutes he led them out between the soldiers, and conducted them towards the palace.

Although the Turkish officer could not, or would not, converse with Colonel Langley, the latter had little difficulty in making a pretty good guess as to how matters stood, for on his way to the palace, short though it was, he saw devastation enough to convince him that the British had gained the day. Arrived at the palace, the party were locked up in an anteroom.

Meanwhile, in the audience-hall, which was considerably damaged by the artillery of the fleet, Omar Dey held a divan. The building in which this court had been held in former times was now a ruin, and many of the councillors who had been wont to assemble in it had gone to their last account.

Omar was very pale, and moved with difficulty, having been wounded slightly in various places. Indeed, all the statesmen who surrounded him bore marks, more or less severe, of having played a part in the late action. In the midst of an eager discussion, an attendant entered, and announced the arrival of a British officer with a flag of truce.

“Admit him,” said the Dey, who, although boiling over with rage and despair, had sense enough to make up his mind to bow to the power which he could not overcome.

Immediately Lieutenant Burgess was ushered into the court, accompanied by Rais Ali in the capacity of translator, and two of his boat’s crew, one of whom was, by special permission, Ted Flaggan.

Without wasting time in useless ceremony, the lieutenant ordered Rais to read aloud the paper which he had been commissioned by Lord Exmouth to deliver to the Dey.

Poor Rais Ali appeared to have expended all his bravery on the ramparts, for he trembled and grew paler as he took the paper in his hand.

“Cheer up, owld boy,” whispered Flaggan, as Ali turned to advance towards the Dey; “ye’ve got more pluck than I guv ’ee credit for. Never say die.”

Whether it was the result of these encouraging words, or desperation, we know not, but Rais immediately advanced and read the paper with considerable fluency. It ran as follows:—

“To His Highness the Dey of Algiers.

“Sir,—For your atrocities at Bona on defenceless Christians, and your unbecoming disregard of the demands I made yesterday, in the name of the Prince Regent of England, the fleet under my orders has given you a signal chastisement, by the total destruction of your navy storehouses and arsenal, with half your batteries. As England does not make war for the destruction of cities, I am unwilling to visit your personal cruelties upon the inoffensive inhabitants of the country, and I therefore offer you the same terms of peace which I conveyed to you yesterday in my Sovereign’s name. Without the acceptance of these terms you can have no peace with England.

“If you receive this offer as you ought, you will fire three guns; and I shall consider your not making this signal as a refusal, and shall renew my operations at my own convenience.

“I offer you the above terms provided neither the British consul, nor the officers and men so wickedly seized by you from the boats of a British ship of war, have met with any cruel treatment, or any of the Christian slaves in your power; and I repeat my demand that the consul and officers and men may be sent off to me, conformable to ancient treaties.—I have, etcetera, Exmouth.”

The terms of peace referred to ran thus:—

I. The abolition for ever of Christian slavery.

II. The delivery to my flag of all slaves in the dominions of the Dey, to whatever nation they may belong, at noon to-morrow.

III. To deliver also to my flag all money received by the Dey for the redemption of slaves since the commencement of this year, at noon to-morrow.

IV. Reparation shall be made to the British consul for all losses he may have sustained in consequence of his confinement.

V. The Dey shall make a public apology in presence of his ministers and officers, and beg pardon of the consul in terms dictated by the captain of the Queen Charlotte.

The proud pirate chief did not move a muscle of his pale face, or bend his head while these terms were read to him; nevertheless, he agreed to them all. The consul and others were called into the hall and delivered up; the three guns were fired, and thereafter Lord Exmouth directed that, on the Sunday following, “a public thanksgiving should be offered up to Almighty God for the signal interposition of his Providence during the conflict which took place on the 27th between his Majesty’s fleet and the ferocious enemies of mankind.” In accordance with these terms of peace, all the Christian slaves were collected next day and delivered up.

Sixteen hundred and forty-two were freed on this occasion, and sent on board the fleet. Counting those freed but a short time before, through Lord Exmouth’s influence along the Barbary coasts, the total number delivered amounted to above 3000.

The assembling on the decks of the ships of war of these victims of barbaric cruelty, ignorance, and superstition, was a sight that raised powerful