CHAPTER VIII. ELIZABETHAN SEAMON AND TURKISH PIRATES But a much more adventurous voyage was that of a ship called the Three Half Moones, which, with a crew of thirty-eight men and well found in arms, the better to encounter their enemies with all, set out from Portsmouth in the year fifteen sixty-three. In some ways the story reads like mere romance, but it has been so thoroughly well vouched for that there is not a particle of suspicion connected with it. Having set forth bound for the south of Spain, they arrive near the Straits of Gibraltar, when they found themselves surrounded by eight Turkish galleys. It should be mentioned that the Elizabethans used the word Turk somewhat loosely to mean Muslims. It was rapidly made clear that only two alternatives were possible. Flight was out of the question, and either the awkward must fight to a finish, or she must be sunk. But being English and a gallant crew, they decided to fight. Now amongst those on board were the owner, the master, the master's mate, the boson, the purser, and the gunner as officers. When their desperate situation was realized, the owner exhorted his men to behave valiantly, to be brave, and to bear a reverse with resignation. Then falling on their knees, they all commended themselves to God and prepared for the fight. Then stood up one grove, the master, being a comely man, with his sword and target, holding them up in defiance against his enemies. So likewise stood up the owner, the master's mate, boson, purser, and every man well appointed. Now likewise sounded up the drums, trumpets and flutes, which would have encouraged any man had he never so little heart or courage in him. But next let us introduce to the reader John Fox, the ship's gunner, a man of marvelous resource, as we will see presently. Fox saw that the guns were arranged to the best effect, and that the Turks were receiving a hot fire. But three times as fast as the English shot came the Infidel's fire, and the fight raged furiously with eight galleys to one big ship. The Turks advanced, and then came the time for the English bowmen to let fly their arrows, which fell thickly among the rowers.  But meanwhile the ochre was receiving serious damage below her waterline, and this the Turks seeing, the Infidels endeavored now to board the ship. As they leapt on board many of them fell never again to rise, the others engaging in a tremendous conflict on the ochre's deck. For the Englishmen, writes the narrator in fine, robustus Elizabethan language, show it themselves men indeed, in working manfully with their brown bills and halberds, where the owner, master, Boson, and their company stood to it lustily, that the Turks were half dismayed. But chiefly the Boson showed himself valiant above the rest, for he fared amongst the Turks like a wood lion, for there was none of them that either could or durst stand in his face. Till at the last there came a shot from the Turks, which break his whistle asunder, and smote him on the breast, so that he fell down, bidding them farewell, and to be of good comfort, encouraging them likewise to win praise by death, rather than to live captives in misery and shame. Such was the fine gallantry of these brave men, but they were fighting against heavy odds. The Turks pressed them sorely, and not one of the company but behaved as a man, except the master's mate, who shrunk from the skirmish, like a notable coward, is staming neither the valour of his name, nor accounting of the present example of his fellows, nor having respect to the miseries whereunto he should be put. The rest of the crew covered themselves with glory, but at length it was of no avail, for the Turks won the day. Then, in accordance with the historic custom of the sea, the crew of the ochre were placed in the galleys, set to row at the oars, and they were no sooner in them, but their garments were pullet over their ears, and torn from their backers, for the galleyslave was always condemned to row stark naked. At length the galleys reached their stronghold at the port of Alexandria, which was well protected in those days by means of fortifications. The reader will recollect that it was stated some time back that the sailing season was confined only to the late spring and summer, and that in the winter the ships were laid up. The close time now approaching the Christian prisoners were brought ashore to Alexandria, and cast into prison until the time came round again for the season of piracy. At this port, says the Elizabethan chronicler, the Turks do customably bring their galleys on shore every year in the winter season, and there do trim them, and lay them up against the spring time, in which row there is a prison wherein the captives and such prisoners as serve in the galleys are put for all that time, until the seas be calm and passable for the galleys, every prisoner being most grievously laden with irons on their leg is, to their great pain. So the voyage of the ochre had come to a tragic ending. But after a time the news of this incident evidently reached England, for both the master and the owner were ransomed by their friends from their prison. The rest had to bear their ill treatment and semi-starvation as best they would. But he who bore it all with wonderful endurance was the gunner John Fox, and, being somewhat skillful in the craft of a barber, by reason therefore made great shift in helping his fare now and then with a good meal. In the course of time the keeper of the prison became rather fond of him and allowed him special privileges, so that he could walk as far as the sea and back when he liked. But he was warned always to return by night, and he was never allowed to go about without his shackles on his legs. Later on, six more of the prisoners were allowed a like privilege. The life sped wearily on, and now, for fourteen sorry years, this endurance vile had continued. It was the year 1577, and the winter season had come round again and the galleys drawn up the beach. The masts and sails thereof were brought ashore and properly housed, till once more the spring should return, and the Turkish masters and mariners were now nested in their own homes, as the narrative quaintly words it. The galleyslaves had again resumed their long bondage ashore, and now there were no fewer than 268 wretched Christians there, languishing in captivity, having been captured from sixteen different nations. It was then that John Fox, man of resource that he was, resolved that escape must be made, and his fellow prisoners also released. If you consider such a project as the release of nearly three hundred prisoners from the hands of these Turkish pirates, the idea seems entirely impracticable and utterly visionary. To John Fox, however, it seemed otherwise, and this is how he set to work. After pondering over a method for a very long time, and saying many prayers that his scheme might be successful, he betook himself to a fellow prisoner, a Spanish Christian, named Peter Unticado, who had been in captivity no less than thirty years. This man was lodged in a certain victualing house near the roadstead. He had never attempted escape during all those years, so was treated with less suspicion and trusted. Fox and Unticado had often discussed their bondage, however, and at last the Englishmen took the risk of making him his confidante and also one other fellow prisoner. These three men put their heads together, and Fox unfolded a method of escape. Their chances of meeting were but few and short, but at the end of seven weeks they had been able to agree on a definite plan. Five more prisoners were now taken into their confidence, whom they thought they could safely trust. The last day of the old year came round, and these eight men agreed to meet in the prison and inform the rest of the prisoners of the plan. On the thirty-first of December then, this was done. It needed but little persuasion to cause these two hundred odd to join in the scheme, and Fox having, delivered unto them a sort of files, which he had gathered together for this purpose by the meaners of Peter Unticado, admonished them to be ready at eight o'clock the next night with their fetters filed through. So on the next day Fox, with his six companions, resorted to the house of Peter Unticado. In order to prevent any suspicions of a dark deed, they spent the time in mirth till the night came on and the hour of eight drew nigh. Fox then sent Unticado to the keeper of the road, pretending that he had been sent by one of the Turkish officials, ordering him to come at once. The keeper promptly came, before doing so, told the warders not to bar the gate, as he should not be long away. In the meantime, the other seven prisoners had been able to arm themselves with the best weapons they could find in the house of the Spaniard, and John Fox was able to lay his hands on a rusty old sword-blade without either hilt or pommel, but he managed to make it effective. By now the keeper had arrived, but as soon as he came to the house and saw it silent and in darkness, he began to be suspicious.  They then marched quietly in the direction of the warders of the road, and quickly dispatched these six officials. Fox then barred the gate, and put a cannon against it to prevent pursuit. So far all had worked with remarkable smoothness. They next proceeded to the jailer's lodge, where they found the key of the fortress and prison by his bedside. They also found some better weapons than the arms they were using. But there was also a chest full of duckets. To three of the party this wonderful sight proved irresistible. Fox would not have anything to do with the money, for that it was his and their liberty which he sought for, to the honour of his god, and not to make a mart of the wicked treasure of the infidels. But Anticaro and two others helped themselves liberally, and concealed the money between their skin and their shirt. These eight men, armed with the keys, now came to the prison whose doors they opened. The captives were ready and waiting. Fox called on them to do their share, and the whole band, between two and three hundred, poured forth. To each section did Fox bestow some duty. The eight prison warders were put to death, but some of the prisoners Fox had wisely sent down to the water, where they got ready for sea the best galley, called the Captain of Alexandria. While some were getting her launched, others were rushing about, bringing her masts and sails and ores and the rest of her inventory from the winter quarters. The whole place was seething with suppressed excitement. Meanwhile, there was a warm contest going on at the prison before all the warders were slain. The latter had fled to the top of the prison, and Fox with his companions went after them with ladders. Blood and slaughter were all round them. Three times was Fox shot, but by a miracle the shot only passed through his clothing on each occasion. But as if by way of punishment for their greed, Ontikaro and his two companions who had taken the ducats were killed outright, being not able to wield themselves, being so pestered with the weight and uneasy carrying of the wicked and profane treasure. In this conflict one of the Turks was run through with a sword, and not yet dead fell from the top of the prison wall to the ground. Such a noise did he then begin to make that the alarm was raised, and the authorities were amazed to find the Christian prisoners were paying their ransoms by dealing death to their late masters. Alexandria was now roused, and both a certain castle as well as a strong fortress were bestowing themselves to action. It seemed as if the prisoners, after all their years of suffering, after having brought about so gallant an escape, were now to fail just as victory was well in sight. It was a saddening thought, but there was one road of escape and one only. While some of the prisoners were still running down to the sea carrying munitions, some additional oars, victuals and whatever else were required for the galleys, others were getting ready for pushing off. The last of the Christians leapt aboard, the final touch was given to the gear, and up went the yards and the sails were unloosed. There was a good breeze, and this, the swiftest and best of all Alexandria's ships, was speeding on at a good pace. But ashore the Turks have already got to their guns, and the roar of cannon is heard from both the castle and fortress. The sea is splashing everywhere with Turkish ball, and the smoke is swept by the breeze off the shore. Five and forty times did these guns fire, and never once did a shot so much as graze the galle, although she could see the splashes all around her. On and still on sailed this long lean galle, increasing her speed all the time, till at length by God's mercy, she with her long suffering crew, who by years of involuntary training had learnt to handle her to perfection, were at last out of range of any Turkish cannon. In the distance they could see their late masters coming down to the beach, like unto a swarm of bees, and bustling about in a futile endeavour to get their other galleys ready for the sea. But it was of little avail. The Christians had long been preparing for flight in the captain, so the Turks found it took an unbearable time in seeing out the oars and masts and cables and everything necessary to a galleys inventory, lying hidden away in winter quarters. They had never suspected such a well-planned escape as this. Nothing was ready, all was confusion. And even when the galleys were at last launched and rigged, the weather was so boisterous, there was such a strong wind that no man cared about taking charge of these fine weathercraft just at that time. So the escaping galle got right away. And then, as soon as they were a safe distance away, Fox summoned his men to do what Nelson was to perform less than three centuries later at almost this very spot. You remember how, after the glorious battle of the Nile, when the British fleet had obtained such a grand victory over the French, Nelson sent orders through the fleet to return Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the result of the battle. All work was stopped, and men who had spent the whole night risking death and fighting for their lives, dishevelled and dirty with sweat and grime, now stood bareheaded and rendered their thanks. So it was now on the galleys captain.  It must have been a momentous occasion. Men who, after being prisoners for thirty years and less, men who had just come through a night of wild excitement, men who had fought with their arms and sweated hard to get their galley ready for sea, men who even at the last minute had barely escaped being blown into eternity by the Turkish cannon, now halted in their work and made their Thanksgiving, whilst most of them could hardly realize that at length they were free men, and the time of their tribulation was at an end. And then they resumed their rowing, and instead of working till they dropped for faintness, each man helped his neighbor when weariness was stealing over the oarsmen. Never did a more united ship's company put to sea. One object alone did they all possess, to come to some Christian land with the least possible delay. They had no charts, but Fox and his English fellow seamen knew something about astronomy, and by studying the stars in the heavens they roughly guessed the direction in which they ought to steer. With such haphazard navigation, however, they soon lost their position when variable winds sprang up. Those light draft ships made a good deal of leeway, and as the wind had been from so many points of the compass, they were now in a new maze. But troubles do not come singly. They were further troubled by their victuals giving out, so that it seemed as if they had escaped from one form of punishment, only to fall into a worse kind of hardship. As many as eight died of starvation. But at last, on the twenty-ninth day after leaving Alexandria, the others picked up the land again and found it was the island of Kandia. Their distance made good had thus been about three hundred and fifty miles northwest, which works out at about twelve miles a day. But though this is ridiculously small, it must be borne in mind that their courses were many and devious, that to row for twenty-nine consecutive days was a terrible trial for human endurance, and latterly they were rowing with empty stomachs. They came at length to Gallipoli in Kandia and landed. Here the good abbot and monks of the convent of Amersiates received them with welcome and treated them with every Christian hospitality. They refreshed these poor voyagers and attended to their wants until well enough to resume their travels. Two hundred and fifty-eight had survived, and good nourishment with kindly treatment on land restored their health and vigor. We need not attempt to suggest the warmth of the welcome which these poor prisoners received, and the congratulations which were showered upon them in having escaped from the hands of the Turks. It was in itself a remarkable achievement that so many had come out alive. As a token and remembrance of this miraculous escape, Fox left behind as a present to the monks the sword with which the Englishmen had slain the keeper of the prison. Esteeming it a precious jewel, it remained hanging up in a place of honour in the monastery. When the time came for the captain to get underway again, she coasted till she arrived at Tarento, in the heel of Italy, and so concluded their voyage. They were once again in a Christian land and away from their oppressors. The galley they sold at this port and immediately started to walk on foot to Naples. Yes, they had escaped, but by how little may be gathered from the fact that the Christians having started their long walk in the morning, they arrived that self-same night, seven Turkish galleys. But the latter were too late. Their captives were now inland. Having reached Naples without further adventure, the Christians separated, and according to his nationality made for their distant homes. But Fox proceeded first to Rome, arriving there one Easter eve, where he was well entertained by an Englishman who brought the news of this wonderful escape to the notice of the Pope. Fox was without any means of livelihood, and it was a long way to walk to the English Channel. So he determined to try his luck in Spain. The Pope treated the poor man with every consideration, and sent him on his journey with a letter to the King of Spain. We, in his behalf, due in the bowels of Christ's desire you, wrote his holiness, that taking compassion of his former captivity and present penury, you do not only suffer him freely to pass throughout your cities and towns, but also succour him with your charitable alms, the reward whereof you shall hear after most assuredly receive. Leaving Rome in April 1577, Fox arrived in Spain apparently the following August. The Spanish King appointed him to the Office of Gunner in the Royal Gallies at a salary of eight ducats a month. Here he remained for about two years, and then, feeling homesick, returned to England in 1579. Who, being come into England, as we read in Hacklet, went unto the court and showed all his travel unto the council, who, considering of the state of this man in that he had spent and lost a great part of his youth in Throldam and Bondage, extended to him their liberality, to help to maintain him now in age, to their right honour, and to the encouragement of all true hearted Christians. Such, then, was the happy ending to Fox's travel sixteen years after his ship had set forth from Portsmouth. He had shown himself not merely to be a man of exceptional physical endurance, but a man of considerable resource and a born leader of men in times of crisis and despair. We may well relish the memory of such a fine character. End of Chapter 8. Chapter 9 of The Romance of Piracy This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Romance of Piracy by Edward Kebel Chatterton. Chapter 9. The Stuart Navy Goes Fourth Against The Pirates After the death of Queen Elizabeth and the respite from the Anglo-Spanish naval fighting, there was little employment for those hundreds of our countrymen who had taken to the sea during the time of Drake. Fighting the Spaniards, or lying in wait for treasureships bound from the West Indies to Cadiz, was just the life that appealed to them. But now that these hostilities had passed, they felt that their means of livelihood were gone. After the exciting sea life with Drake and others, after the prolonged armada fighting, it would be too tame for them to settle down to life ashore. Fishing was not very profitable, and there was not sufficient demand for all the men to ship on board merchant ships. So numbers of these English seamen unfortunately took to piracy. Some of them, it would be more truthful to say, resumed piracy, and found their occupation haunting the English Channel, the Seales being a notorious nest for pirates. Notwithstanding the number of these robbers of the sea, who were always on the lookout, yet, says our friend Smith of Virginia, it is incredible how many great and rich prizes the little barks of the West Country daily brought home in regard of their small charge. But the strenuous measures which were being now taken in the narrow seas by the North European governments made piracy in this district less remunerative than hitherto. In the Mediterranean, these unemployed seamen knew that piracy was a much better paid industry. They knew that the Moors would be glad to avail themselves of the services of such experienced seamen, so they betook themselves to Barbary. At first, be it remembered, these Englishmen had established themselves as North African pirates on their own without any connection with the Moors. Smith mentions that Ward, a poor English sailor, and Dansker, a Dutchman, here began some time before the Moors scarcely knew how to sail a ship. An Englishman named Easton made such a profit that he became, says Smith, a Marques in Savoy, and Ward lived like a Bechau in Barbary. From these men the Moors learned how to become good sea fighters. Besides Englishmen there came also French and Dutch adventurers to join them, attracted by this mode of life, but very few Spaniards or Italians ever joined their throng. After a time, however, disagreements arose and the inevitable dissensions followed. They then became so split up and disunited that the Moors and Turks began to obtain the upper hand over them and to compel them to be their slaves. Furthermore, they made these expert European sailors teach themselves how to become distinguished in the nautical arts. This many accursed runnogado or Christian turned Turk did till they have made those sally men or Moors of Barbary so powerful as they be to the terror of all the Straits. Other English pirates hovered about off the Irish coasts and three men named respectively Jennings, Harris and Thompson in addition to some others were captured and hanged at whopping. A number of others were captured and pardoned by James I. A contemporary account of rowing in a Barbarian galley in the time of Elizabeth has been preserved to us written by Juan Thomas Sanders. I and six more of my fellows, he writes, together with four score Italians and Spaniards, were sent forth in a galley hut to take a Greek-ish carmacelle which came into Africa to steal Negroes and went out of Tripoli's unto that place, which was 240 leagues thence. But we were chained three and three to an oar, and we rode naked above the girdle, and the botswain of the galley walked abaft the mast and his mate affore the mast, and when their devilish color rose they would strike the Christians for no cause, and they allowed us but half a pound of bread a man in a day without any other kind of sustenance water accepted. We were then also cruelly manacled in such sort that we could not put our hands the length of one foot asunder the one from the other, and every night they searched our chains three times to see if they were fast riveted. And the same man related the unhappy experience of a Venetian and seventeen captives who, after enduring slavery for some time at the hands of the Sultan of Tripoli, succeeded in getting a boat and got right away to sea. Away they sped to the northward, and at length they sighted Malta. Their hopes ran high, their confidence was now undoubted. On they came, nearer and nearer to the land, and now they were within only a mile of the shore. It was beautifully fine weather, and one of them remarked, In despeto di Dio adesso venio apigliar terra. In the despite of God I shall now fetch the shore. But the man had spoken with an excess of confidence, for presently a violent storm sprang up, so that they were forced to up helm and to run right before the gale, which was now blowing right on to the Tripolitan coast. Arrived off there they were heartbroken to find, that they were compelled to row up and down the very coastline which they had imagined they had escaped from. For three weeks they held out as best they could, but the weather being absolutely against them, and their slender victuals being at length exhausted, they were compelled to come ashore, hoping to be able to steal some sheep. The barbarian moors however were on the watch, and knew that these unlucky men would be bound to land for supplies. Therefore a band of sixty horsemen were dispatched who secreted themselves behind a sand hill near the sea. There they waited till the Christians had got well inland a good half-mile. Then by a smart movement the horsemen cut off all retreat to the sea, whilst others pursued the starving voyagers, and soon came back with them. They were brought back to the place whence they had so recently escaped. The sultan ordered that the fugitives should, some of them, have their ears cut off, whilst others were most cruelly thrashed. The enterprising voyagers of the English ships to the Levant in the 16th century had been grievously interfered with by the Algerian galleys roving about the Mediterranean, especially in proximity to the Straits of Gibraltar. They would set out from England with goods to deliver, and then return with Mediterranean fruits and other commodities. But so often were these valuable ships and cargos captured by the hateful infidels that the English merchants who had dispatched the goods became seriously at a loss and were compelled to invoke the aid of Elizabeth, who endeavored by means of diplomacy to obtain the release of these ships and to prevent such awkward incidents recurring. To give the names of a few such ships, and to indicate the loss in regard to ships' freight and of men held captive in slavery, we have only to mention the following. The Salomon of Plymouth had been captured with a load of salt and a crew of 36 men. The Elizabeth of Guernsey was seized with ten Englishmen, and a number of Bretons, her value being 2,000 Florence. The Maria Martin, under the command of Thomas Moore, with a crew of 35, had been taken while returning from Patrasso in Moria. Her value was 1,400 Florence. The Elizabeth Stokes of London, under the command of David Filly of London, whilst bound for Patrasso, had been also captured, but her value was 20,000 or 30,000 Florence. The Nicholas of London, under the command of Thomas Foster, had also been seized at a loss of about 5,000 Florence. So also in like manner could be mentioned the Judith of London, the Jesus of London, the Swallow of London. But England, of course, was not the only country which suffered by these piratical acts. In 1617, France was moved to take serious action, and sent a fleet of fifty ships against these barbarian corsairs. Off Saint-Tropez, they captured one of these roving craft, and later on met another which was captured by a French renegado of Rochelle. The latter defended himself fiercely for some time, but at length, seeing that the day was going against him, he sunk his ship, and was drowned, together with the whole of his crew, rather than be captured by the Christians. And from now onwards, right up to the 19th century, there were at different dates successive expeditions sent against these rovers by the chief European powers. Many of these expeditions were of little value, some were practically useless, while others did only ephemeral good. Thus, you will remember, the only active service which the Navy of our James I ever saw was in 1620, when it was sent against the pirates of Algiers. But they had become so successful, and so daring that they were not easily to be tackled. Not content now with roving over the Mediterranean, not satisfied with those occasional voyages out through the Gibraltar Straits into the Atlantic, they now, if you please, had the temerity to cross the bay of Biscay and to cruise about the approaches of the English Channel. These Algerine pirates actually sailed as far north as the south of Ireland, where they acted just as they had for generations along the Mediterranean. That is to say, they landed on the Munster shore, committed frightful atrocities, and carried away men, women, and children into the harsh slavery which was so brutally enforced in their barbarian territory. What good did the Jacobian expedition which we sent out, you may naturally ask? The answer may be given in the fewest words. Although the fleet contained six of our royal ships and a dozen merchant men, yet it returned home with no practical benefit, the whole affair having been a hopeless model. In 1655 Blake, the great admiral of Cromwell's time, was sent to tackle these pirate pests. It was a big job, but there was no one at that time better suited for an occasion that required determination. Tunis was a very plague spot by its piratical colony and its captives made slaves. It had to be humbled to the dust, and Blake, with all the austerity and thoroughness of a Puritan officer, was resolved to do his duty to Christendom. But Tunis was invulnerable, so it was a most difficult undertaking. He spent the early spring of this year cruising about the neighborhood, biding his time and being put to great inconvenience by foul winds and tempestuous weather. He found that these Tunis pirates were obstinate and willful. They were unprepared to listen to any reason. Intractable and insolent, it was impossible to treat with them. Force was the only word to which they could be made to harken. These barbarous provocations, wrote Blake in giving an account of his activities here, did so far work upon our spirits that we judged it necessary for the honor of the fleet, our nation and religion, seeing they would not deal with us as friends, to make them feel us as enemies. And it was there upon resolved at a council of war to endeavor the firing their ships in Porto Farina. Tunis itself being invulnerable, Blake entered the neighboring harbor, this Porto Farina, very early in the morning. The singular thing was that he was favored with amazingly good luck, a fair wind in and a fair wind out. But let me tell the story in the admiral's own words. Accordingly the next morning very early, we entered with the fleet into the harbor, and anchored before their castles, the lord being pleased to favor us with a gentle gale off the sea, which cast all the smoke upon them, and made our work the more easy. After some hours' dispute, we set on fire all their ships, which were in number nine, and, the same favorable gale still continuing, we retreated out again into the road. We had twenty-five men slain, and about forty besides, hurt with very little other loss. It was also remarkable by us that, shortly after our getting forth, the wind and weather changed, and continued very stormy for many days, so that we could not have effected the business had not the lord afforded that nick of time in which it was done. But these attacks by the powers were regarded by the pirates as mere pinpricks, for it was nothing to them that even all their galleys should be burnt. Such craft were easily built again, and there was an overwhelming amount of slave labor, and plenty of captive seamen, to rig these ships as soon as finished. So the evil continued, and the epidemic spread as before. In 1658 these barbarian corsairs attacked a ship called the Diamond, homeward bound from Lisbon to Venice. She was laid in with a valuable cargo, and her captain saw that he would not be able to defend his ship against three galleys. So, rather than let her fall into peretical hands, he determined to destroy her. He placed an adequate quantity of powder, and then, laying a match to the same, he jumped into his longboat, from which presently he had the pleasure of seeing his enemies blown into space by the terrific explosion, just as these infidels were in the act of boarding the Diamond. Ten years later, Sir Thomas Allen was sent during the summer with a squadron once more to repress Algerine piracy. He arrived before Algiers, and was so successful that he compelled the release of all the English captives which had been accumulating there. Indeed, it is amazing to count up so many of these expeditions from England alone. Thus, in the early spring of 1671, we find Sir Edward Sprague sent out to the Mediterranean for the same purpose. The following account is condensed from his own dispatch, and is of no ordinary interest. On the 20th of April, Sprague was cruising in his flagship, the Revenge, about 15 or 20 miles off Algiers, when he met his other ships, the Mary, Hampshire, Portsmouth, and the Advice, which were all frigates. These informed him that several Algerine warcraft were at Boogie. He called a Council of War, at which it was agreed that Sprague should make the best of his way there with the Mary, the Portsmouth Pink, and his fire ships, and he should endeavor to destroy these Corsairs in their own lair. The Hampshire and the Portsmouth were left to cruise off Algiers till further orders should reach them. The wind was now easterly, and one of his ships, named the Dragon, had been gone five days, as she was busy chasing a couple of Algerine Corsair craft. But as the wind for some days had been from the southwest, Sprague was in hopes that the chase would have carried the ships to the eastward, and thus force the Algerines into Boogie. And so, on the 23rd of April, the Dragon returned to Sprague, having been engaged for two days in fighting the two Algerine craft. Unfortunately, her commander, Captain Herbert, whom the reader will remember by his later title, when he became the Earl of Torrington, had been shot in the face by a musket shot, and nine of his men had also been wounded with small shot. The wind continued easterly, until 28th April, but at eight o'clock that night, it flew round to southwest, and the weather became very gusty and rainy. This caused Sprague's little eagle fireship to become disabled, and she was dismasted by the wind. But on the last day of April, Sprague got her fitted with masts again, and re-rigged, for luckily he had with him a corn ship captured from the Corsairs, and her spars, together with some top masts and other spars, caused the fireship to be ready again for service. Unfortunately, the same bad weather caused the Warwick to spring her mast, an accident that frequently befell the ships of the 16th and 17th centuries, so she bore away to the Christian shore. My brigantine at the same time bore away, and as yet I have no news of her. The same day this admiral arrived in Boogie Bay, but here again he had bad luck. Just as he was within half a shot of the enemy's castles and forts, the wind dropped, and it fell a flat calm. Then the breeze sprang up, but it blew off shore. So the time passed. On the 2nd of May, the winds were still very fluky, and after twice in vain attempting to do anything with these varied puffs, Sprague resolved to attack by night with his ship's boats and his smallest fireship. The water close to the forts was very shallow, and the English fireship could be rowed almost as well as a ship's longboat. So about midnight he dispatched all the boats he could, as well as the Eagle Fireship, under the command of my eldest lieutenant, Master Nugent. It was a dark night, and the high land was very useful for its obscuring effects. Nugent, leaving one of the longboats with the Fireship in addition to the Fireship's own boat, now rowed off to reconnoiter the enemy, having first given the Fireship's captain orders to continue approaching until he should find himself in shoal water. He was then immediately to anchor. Nugent had then rowed off, and had scarcely left the Fireship one minute when, after proceeding but a little way over the leaden waters, he found himself quite close to where the English squadron was anchored. He had thus lost his bearings in the dark, and at once steered off again to find the Fireship, when, to his great amazement, he suddenly saw the latter burst out into a sheet of flame. That, of course, was another piece of ill luck, for it entirely upset all the carefully laid plans and instantly alarmed the enemy. It would have been useless to have attempted a boat attack that night, so the effort was postponed. What had happened was this. The little Fireship had been all ready when by an accident the gunner had fired off his pistol. This had caused the ignition, and so the ship had been lost without any good being done. It was a thousand pitties, as, owing to her shallow draft, she had been relied upon for getting right close in. With this warning, the enemy the next day unrigged their ships, which lay in their harbour, then gathered together all the yards, the top masts and spars generally off these ships, together with their cables. All this they made into a boom, which was buoyed up by means of casks. Sprague and his fleet watched this being done, for there was no wind, or, as he expressed it, we had no opportunity of wind to do anything upon them. On the 8th of May they noticed that the corsairs ashore were reinforced by the arrival of horse, as well as foot soldiers, which the Englishmen suspected rightly, had come from Algiers. The boogie corsairs greeted this arrival with wild cheering, and by firing of the guns in their ships and castles, as well as by the display of colours. About noon, just as Sprague was anxious to reopen operations, he was harassed by a flat calm. Luckily, however, at 2 p.m., a nice breeze sprang up, and the revenge, dragon, advice, and merry advanced, and let go in three-and-one-half fathoms nearer in, mooring stem and stern, so that their broadsides might face boogie's fortifications. The position was roughly thus. Looking towards boogie, Sprague's six ships were moored roughly in a half-circle in the following order from left to right. First came the Portsmouth, then the Garland, the Dragon, the Merry, the advice, and finally the revenge flagship. These were all, so to speak, in the foreground of the picture. In the background were the enemy's ships on the left, whilst on the right were the castles and fortifications. In the middle distance, on the left, was the boom defense already noted. The revenge was in four fathoms, being close up to the castles and walls, and the fight began. For two hours these ships bombarded boogie's ships and fortresses. Sprague then decided to make a boat attack, his ships still remaining at anchor. He therefore sent away his pinnace under the command of a man named Harman, a reformado seaman of mine. A reformado, by the way, was a volunteer, serving with the fleet, without a commission, yet with the rank of an officer. Harman was sent because Sprague's second lieutenant had been hurt by a splinter in the leg. Lieutenant Pinn was sent in command of the Merry's boat, and Lieutenant Pierce had charge of the Dragon's boat. The project was to cut the boom, and this was bravely done by these three boats, though not without some casualties. Eight of the Merry's boats crew and her Lieutenant were wounded with small shot. In the Admiral's pinnace, seven were killed outright, and all the rest were wounded excepting Harman. Of the Dragon's boats crew, ten were wounded, as well as her Lieutenant, and one was killed. But the boom had been cut, and that was the essential point. That being done, the Admiral then signaled to his one remaining fire ship the little victory to do her work. She obeyed and got in so well through the boom that she brought up a thwart the enemy's bolt spritz, their ships being aground and fast to the castles. The victory burnt very well indeed, and destroyed all the enemy's shipping, ten in all. Of these ten, seven were the best ships of the Algerine fleet, and of the three others, one was a Genoese prize, and the other had been a ship the pirates had captured from an English crew. The Commander, the Master's mate, the Gunner, and one seaman of the fire ship had been wounded badly in the fight, but the victory was complete and undoubted. On the 10th of May, a Dutchman who had been captive with the Corsairs for three years escaped by swimming off to the revenge, and Sprague had him taken on board. The Dutchman informed the English Admiral that the enemy admitted that at least 360 Turkish soldiers had lost their lives in this engagement by fire and gunshot as they could not get ashore from the ships. There were in all about 1900 men in addition to those 300 who came that morning from Algiers. The Dutchman for himself thought the losses far exceeded the number assessed by the enemy. He stated that the castles and the town itself had been badly damaged, and as all their medicine chests were on the ships and so burnt, it was impossible for the enemy to dress the wounds of their injured. Old Trekkie, their Admiral, is likewise wounded, wrote Sprague. Among the enemies killed was Dansker, a Renegado, and our losses consisted only of 17 killed and 41 wounded. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. A satirical English gentleman who lived in the reign of Charles II and described himself as, formerly a servant in England's navy, published a pamphlet in 1648 in which he complained bitterly of the inability of the present government, even in spite of the expense of vast quantities of money, to clear England's seas of Ireland's pirates. The latter belonged at this time, especially, to Waterford and Wexford.  But yet the pirates are not reduced, neither are the seas guarded. One of these pirates had, in February 1647, in one day taken three small ships and one pinnace of a total value of 9,000 pounds. One of these ships, whilst defending herself, had lost her master and one of her mates, as well as five mariners, besides other members of her crew wounded. And this author of, Accordial for the Calenture, asks if the present government, with such an expenditure, cannot reduce half a dozen pirates, how will England's commonwealth be wasted if the French, the Danes, the Dutch, or all of them shall infest England's seas? Well, we know now that in time England's navy did actually defeat each of these, the Dutch, French, and Danes. And although the pirates were a real and lasting trouble, both in the narrow seas and in the Mediterranean, yet, as the reader has now seen, it was no easy matter to crush them, more than for a short period. In 1675, we find Sir John Narborough with a squadron sent to chastise the pirates of Tripoli, which were interrupting our overseas trade. At dead of night, he arrived before Tripoli, manned his ships' boats and sent them into the port under his lieutenant, Mr. Cloudsley Shovel, who in later times was to achieve such naval fame. The latter, in the present instance, seized the enemy's guard boat, and so was able to get right in undiscovered. He then surprised four Tripolitan ships, which were all that happened to be in port, and having burnt these, he returned to Narborough's squadron, having successfully accomplished that which he was sent to perform without the loss of a man. France, too, at this time having risen to the status of a great naval power, was performing her share in putting down this perpetual nuisance. In 1681, as the barbarian Corsairs had for some time interrupted the French trade across the Mediterranean, Dequesne was sent with a fleet against them. He was able to destroy eight galleys in the port of Sio in the Archipelago, and threw in so many bombs that, at length, he subjected the Corsairs to terms. Finally, in 1684, he had obtained from them all the French captives, and had caused the pirates to pay five hundred thousand crowns for the prizes they had taken. And in 1682, Admiral Herbert had again been sent out by England against the Algerian pirates. And now before we leave this period, I want to put before the reader the interesting story which centres round the Bristol ship named The Exchange, which was so happily rescued from the Algerian pirates. The story begins on the 1st of November, 1621, when two ships were sent on their voyage from Plymouth. The larger of these was the George Bonaventure, about 70 tons birthing. The smaller of the two was the Nicholas of 40 tons birthing, and her skipper's name was John Rollins, of whom we shall have much to say. These two vessels, after being freighted by Plymouth merchants, proceeded down Channel, past Ushant, and after a fair passage found themselves across the bay, round the Spanish coast, and off Trafalgar by the 18th of November. But the next morning, just as they were getting into the straits of Gibraltar, the watch described five ships under sail coming towards them as fast as they could. In a moment, the English ships rightly guessed, these were pirate craft, and immediately began to escape. But in spite of all their efforts, the pirates came the more quickly. There were five of them in all, and the first came right to windward of the English craft, the second came upon our luff, and presently the remainder also came along. Their admiral was one call fater, whose ship was described as having upon her main top cell two top-gallot sails, one above another. For of these five ships two were prizes, one being a small London ship, and the other a West Country ship, which, homeward bound with a cargo of figs and other goods, had had the misfortune to fall into the hands of these rovers. So the George Bonaventure was taken, and the Turkish vice admiral, whose name was Villa Rise, now called upon the Nicholas to strike sail also, and Rollins, seeing it was useless to do otherwise, obeyed. The same day, before nightfall, the Turkish admiral sent twelve of the George Bonaventure's crew ashore, together with some other Englishmen whom he had taken prisoners from another previous ship. The admiral was doubtless nervous, lest with so many English seamen a mutiny might break out, so some were set upon a strange land to fare as best they might. Villa Rise, the vice admiral, ordered Rollins and five of his company to go aboard Villa Rise's ship, leaving three men and a boy on the Nicholas. To the latter were sent thirteen Turks and Moors, a right proportion to overmaster the other for, in case mutiny should be meditated. The ships then set a course for Algiers. But the next night a heavy gale sprang up, so that they lost sight of the Nicholas, and the pirates were afraid their own ships would likewise perish. On the twenty-second of November Rollins arrived at Algiers, but the Nicholas had not yet come into port. In this piratical stronghold he found numerous Englishmen now as slaves, and there were a hundred handsome English youths who had been compelled to turn Turks. For these inhuman Muslims, these vipers of Africa, these monsters of the sea, having caught a Christian in their net would next set about trying to make him change his Christianity for Mohammedanism. If he refused, he would be tortured without mercy, until some of them, unable to endure these terrible sufferings any longer, yielded and declared they would become Turks, being yet Christians at heart. These poor, ill-treated English slaves, though bowed down with their own troubles, welcomed this latest batch and, says the contemporary narrator, like good Christians, they bade us be of good cheer and comfort ourselves in this. That God's trials were gentle purgations, and these crosses were but to cleanse the dross from the gold, and bring us out of the fire again more clear and lovely. But if these Algerine pirates and taskmasters were ordinarily cruel towards English seamen, they were now the more embittered than ever, for they were still smarting from the injury they had received in May of that year, when Sir Robert Mansell's fleet had attempted to fire their ships in the Mole. Tortures and all manner of cruelties were dealt out to them by the infuriated Muslims, and there was but little respect for the dignity of humanity. Some of these men from the George Bonaventure and the Nicholas were sold by auction to the highest bidder, and the bargainers would assemble, and look the sailor men over critically as if they were at a horse fair, for the Nicholas had arrived safely on the 26th of November. The Bashaw was allowed to take one of these prisoners for himself, the rest being sold.  He was eventually bought by Villa Rise for the sum which, in the equivalent of English money, amounted to seven pounds ten shillings. The Nicholas's carpenter was also bought at the same time. These and other slaves were then sent into Villa Rise's ship to do the work of ship rights and to start rigging her. But some of these Algerines became exceedingly angry when they found Rollins because of his lame hand could not do as much work as the other slaves. There was a loud complaint, and they threatened to send him upcountry far into Africa, where he should never see Christendom again, and be banished for life. In the meanwhile, there lay at Algiers a ship called the Exchange of Bristol, which had some time previously been seized by the pirates. Here she lay unrigged in the harbour, till, at last, one John Goodell, an English Turk, with his confederates, understanding she was a good sailor, and might be made a proper man of war, bought her from the Turks that took her and got her ready for sea. Now the overseer happened to be an English renegado named Ramatham Rise, but his real name was Henry Chandler, and it was through him that Goodell became master of the Nicholas. They resolved that as there were so many English prisoners, they should have only English slaves for their crew, and only English and Dutch renegados as their gunners, but for soldiers they took also Muslims on board. One of the saddest aspects of this Turkish piracy is the not infrequent mention of men who either from fear or from love of adventure had denied their religion and nationality to become renegades. It is easy enough to criticise those who were made so to act by compulsion and heart-rending tortures, such as placing a man flat on the ground, and then piling weights on to the top of his body till life's breath was almost crushed out of him, or thrashing him without mercy till he would consent to become a Muslim. The ideal man, of course, will in every instance prefer martyrdom to saving his life by the sacrifice of principles, but when the matter is pressed home to us as individuals, we may well begin to wonder whether we should have played the man, as some of our ancestors did, or whether we should, after much torturing, have succumbed to the temptation of clinging to life at the critical moment. Of those renegades some were undoubtedly thorough-paced rascals who were no credit to any community, but mere worthless men without a spark of honour. Such as these would as soon become Muslims as Christians provided it suited their mode of life. But it was the knowledge of the sufferings of the other English prisoners, which, with the loss of ships and merchandise, caused the government repeatedly to send out those punitive expeditions. One would have thought that the only effective remedy would have been to have left a permanent Mediterranean squadron to patrol the North African coast and to chase the Corsairs throughout at least the entire summer season. But there were many reasons which prevented this. The ships could not be spared. There were the long-drawn-out Anglo-Dutch wars, and it was not English ships and seamen exclusively that were the objects of these attacks. But, if by any means some continuous arrangement between the Christian powers had been possible whereby the North African coast could have been systematically patrolled, there is little doubt but that endless effort, time, money, lives, ships, commerce, and human suffering might have been saved. Today, for instance, if piracy along that shore were ever to break out again in a serious manner with ships such as might harass the great European liners trading to the Mediterranean, the matter would speedily be settled if not by the British Mediterranean squadron, at least by some international naval force, as the boxer troubles in China were dealt with. Nine English slaves and one Frenchman worked away refitting the exchange, and in this they were assisted by two of Rowland's own seamen, named respectively Row and Davies. The former hailed from Plymouth, the latter from Foy, or as we spell it nowadays, Foei. Now both Ramatham Rise, alias Chandler, the Captain, and Goodale, the Master, were both West Country men, so they were naturally somewhat favorably disposed to Row and Davies and promised them good usage if they did their duty efficiently. For these men were to go in the exchange as soon as she was ready for sea roving. Let us remind the reader that the position of the Captain in those days was not quite analogous to what we are accustomed to today. Rather, he was the supreme authority aboard for keeping discipline. He was a soldier rather than a sailor, and usually was ignorant of seamanship and navigation. He told the Master where he wished the ship to go, and the latter saw that the sailors did their work in trimming sheets, steering the ship, and so on. But the navigator was known as the pilot. So too the Master Gunner was responsible for all the guns, shot, powder, matches, and the like. Ramatham Rise, the Captain, and Goodale, the Master, now busying themselves getting together a crew for this square rigged exchange, had to find the right kind of men to handle her. What they needed most was a good pilot or navigator, who was also an expert seaman, for neither Ramatham Rise nor Goodale were fit to be entrusted with such a task as soon as the ship should get beyond the straits of Gibraltar and out of sight of land. They therefore asked Davies if he knew among these hundreds of prisoners of any Englishman who could be purchased to serve in the capacity of pilot. Davies naturally thought of his former skipper, and after searching for him some time found him, and informed his two new taskmasters, that he understood that Villa Rise would be glad to sell Rollins, and for all he had a lame hand, continued Davies, yet he had a sound heart and noble courage for any attempt or adventure. So at last Rollins was bought for the sum of ten pounds, and he was sent to supervise the fitting out of the exchange especially to look after the sails. By the 7th of January 1622 the exchange with her twelve good cannon, her munitions and provisions, was ready for sea, and the same day she was hauled out of the mole. In her went a full ships company consisting of sixty three Turks and Moors as soldiers, nine English slaves, one Frenchman, four Hollenders, and two English soldiers as gunners, as well as one English and one Dutch Renegado. The good ship with this miscellaneous crew put to sea. It was better than slaving away a shore, but it was galling to John Rollins, a fine specimen of an English sailor, to have to serve under these dogs. Rollins, you must understand, was one of those hot-tempered, blunt and daring seamen such as had made England what she was in the time of Elizabeth. Forceful, direct, a man of simple piety, of great national pride, he was also a sailor possessing considerable powers of resource and organization as we shall presently see. The exchange was as fine and handsome a ship as England had built during the Elizabethan or early steward period. As she began to curtsy to the swell of the Mediterranean Sea, the slaves were at work looking after the guns and so on. Rollins and his brusque fierce manner, which is so typical of Drake and many another sailor of the late 16th or early 17th century, was working and raging at the same time. While he was busying himself among his fellow countrymen, pulling ropes and looking after the cannon, he complained in no measured terms of the indignity of having to work merely to keep these Muslim brutes in a life of wickedness. He broke out into a torrent of complaint, as the other slaves besought him to be quiet, least they should all fare the worse for his distemperature. However, he had firmly resolved to effect an escape from all this, and after mentioning the matter cautiously to his fellow slaves, he found they were similarly minded. From now onwards there follows one of the best yarns in the history of piracy, and the story is as true as it is exciting. On the 15th of January, the morning tide had brought the exchange near to Cape Degas, and they were joined by a small Muslim ship which had followed them out of Algiers the day after. This craft now gave information that she had sighted seven small vessels in the distance, six of them being satis. A sati was a very fast, decked species of galley, with a long, sharp prow and two or three masts, each setting a Latin sail. The seventh craft was a polaca, a three-masted type of Mediterranean ship, which usually carried square sails on her main mast, but Latin sails on her fore and mizzen, though some of these vessels had square sails on all three masts. Before long the exchange also sighted these seven and made towards them, but when she had separated the polaca from the rest, this craft, rather than surrender to the infidels, ran herself ashore and split herself on the rocks, and her crew made their way inland. As near as she dare go, the exchange followed inshore and let go anchor when in the shallows. Both she and the other Muslim ship sent out boats with many musketeers and some English and Dutch renegades, who, rowing off to the stranded polaca, boarded her without opposition. Seven guns were found on board, but after these had been hurled into the sea, the polaca was so lightened that she was floated safely off. She was found to have a good cargo of hides and logwood, the latter to be used for dying purposes. In the pillaging of this craft there arose a certain amount of dissension among the pirates, and eventually it was decided to send her and the Muslim ship which had joined them back to Algiers. Nine Turks and one English slave were accordingly taken out of the exchange, and six out of the Muslim craft to man the polaca till she reached Algiers. The exchange, now alone, with a fair wind, proceeded through the straits into the Atlantic, which the Turks were want to speak of as the Mar Granada. Notwithstanding anything which has been said in this book so far, it must be borne in mind that the Turk was essentially not a seaman. He had no bias that way. He was certainly a most expert fighter, however. It was not till the renegade English, Dutch and other sailors settled among them, notably those barbarosas and other Levantine sailors, that the Muslims learned how to use the sea. Had it not been for these teachers they would have continued like the Ottomans, strong as land fighters, but disappointing afloat. These Algerine corsairs in the exchange had no ceaseless, and they did not relish going beyond the Gibraltar Straits. So long as they were within sight of land, and in their oared galleys they were, given such able seaman-like leaders as the barbarosas, able to equip themselves well in any fighting. But to embark in an ocean-going, full-rigged ship such as the exchange, and to voyage therein beyond their familiar landmarks, was to place them in a state of grave concern. These Muslims never went to sea without their Hosea or wizard, and this person would, by his charlatanism, persuade these incapable mariners what to do and how to act. Every second or third night after arriving at the open sea, this wizard would go through various ceremonies, consult his book of wizardry, and from this he would advise the captain as to what sales ought to be taken in or what sale to be set. The whole idea was thoroughly ludicrous to the rude, common-sense Devonshire seaman who marveled that these infidels could be so foolish. The exchange was wallowing on her way when there suddenly went up the cry, a sale, a sale. Presently, however, it was found only to be another of these Muslim Corsairs making towards the exchange. After speaking each other, the ships parted, the exchange now going north, passed Cape St. Vincent on the lookout for the well-laden ships which passed between the English Channel and the Straits of Gibraltar. All this time the English slaves were being subjected to the usual insults and maltreatment. The desire to capture the exchange positively obsessed John Rawlins, and his active brain was busy devising some practical scheme. He resolved to provide ropes with broad specks of iron so that he might be able to close up the hatchways, gratings, and cabins.  It was a daring plan and worthy of a man like Rawlins, but in all attempts at mutiny it is one thing to conceive a plan, and it is another matter to know whom to entrust with the secret. In this respect Rawlins was as cautious as he was enterprising, and he felt his way so slowly and carefully that nothing was done hastily or impetuously or with excess of confidence. End of Chapter 10. Recording by Linda Johnson Chapter 11 of The Romance of Piracy This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Romance of Piracy by Edward Kebbell Chatterton Chapter 11. A Wonderful Achievement Rawlins knew he could rely on his fellow countrymen, but at first he hesitated to say anything to the Four Hollander's. At last, however, he found them anxious to join in with the scheme, and his next effort was equally successful, for he undermined the English Renegado Gunner and three more his associates. Last of all, the Dutch Renegados of the Gunner Room were won over and persuaded by the Four Hollander's. The secret had been well kept, and Rawlins resolved that during the captain's morning watch he would make the attempt. Now, where the English slaves lay in the gunroom, there were always four or five crowbars of iron hanging up. When the time was approaching, when the mutiny should take place, Rawlins was in the act of taking down his iron crowbar when he had the misfortune to make such a noise with it that it woke up the Turkish soldiers, and they, in alarm, roused the other Muslims. Everything was in pitch darkness, and it was uncertain as to what would happen. Presently the Turkish boatswain came below with a candle, and searched all the parts of the ship where the slaves were lying, but he found nothing suspicious other than the crowbar which had apparently slipped down. He then went and informed the captain, who merely remarked that there was nothing to cause uneasiness, as the crowbar not infrequently slipped down. But with this unlucky beginning, Rawlins deemed it best to postpone the undertaking for the present. He had intended, with the aid of his friends, knife in hand, to press upon the gunner's breast and the other English renegados, and either force them to help or else to cut their throats. Die or consent. This was to be the prevailing force, and the watchword was to be for God and King James, and St George for England. In the meantime the exchange continued on her northerly voyage, farther and farther away from the coast of Barbary. Still cautious but keen, Rawlins went about the ship's company, and now had persuaded the gunners and the other English renegades to fall in with his project. This was one of the riskiest moments of his enterprise, but it resulted that there were reciprocal oaths taken and hands given to preserve loyalty to each other. Yet once again was Rawlins to be disappointed. For after the renegado gunner had solemnly sworn secrecy, he went up the hatchway on deck for a quarter of an hour, after which he returned to Rawlins in the gunner room. Then to Rawlins' surprise, in came an infuriated Turk with his knife drawn. This he presented in a menacing manner to Rawlins' body. The latter, cleverly feigning innocence, inquired what was the matter, and whether it was the Turk's intention to kill him. To this the Turk answered, No, master, be not afraid. I think he doth but jest. But it was clear to Rawlins that the other man had broken his compact and rounded on him. So, drawing back, Rawlins drew out his own knife, and also stepped towards the gunner's side, so that he was able to snatch the knife from the gunner's sheath. The Turk, seeing that now the Englishman had two knives to his one, threw down his weapon, protesting that all the time he had been joking. The gunner also whispered in Rawlins' ear that he had never betrayed the plan nor would he do such a thing. However, Rawlins thought otherwise, and kept the two knives with him all the night. Very ingenious was the way in which this Rawlins was weaving his net gradually but surely around the ship. He succeeded in persuading the captain to head for Cape Finestere, pretending that thereabouts they would be likely to come upon a ship to be pillaged. This was perfectly true, though the Englishman's intention was to get the exchange farther and farther from the Straits of Gibraltar, so that it became less and less likely that the Corsairs would send out reinforcements. On the 6th of February, when about thirty-six miles off the Cape, a sail was described. The exchange gave chase, and came up with her, making her strike all her sails, whereby we knew her to be a bark belonging to Torbay near Dartmouth. She was laden with a cargo of salt, and her crew consisted of nine men and a boy. But it came on bad weather, so the exchange did not then launch her boat, but ordered the Torbay ship to let down her boat. Her master, with five men and the boy, now rode off to the exchange, leaving behind his mate and two men in the bark. The Turkish captain now sent ten Moslems to man her. Now among these ten were two Dutch and one English Renegados, who were of our confederacy. Just as the latter were about to hoist out their boat from the exchange, Rollins was able to have a hurried conversation with them. He quickly warned them it was his intention that night, or the next, to put his plan into action. And he advised these men to inform the mate and two men of the Torbay bark of this plot, and then make for England, bearing up the helm whilst the Turks slept and suspected no such matter. Rollins reminded them that in his first watch about midnight he would show them a light by which the men on the bark might know that the plan was already in action. So the boat was let down from the exchange and rode off to the Torbay bark. The Confederates then told the mate of their intention, and he entirely approved of the plan, though at first amazed by its ingenuity. The fact was that the idea was really much simpler than was at first apparent. Being sailors, the English had the helm of the ship, for the Turks, being only soldiers and ignorant of sea affairs, could not say whether their vessel were sailing in the direction of Algiers or in the opposite direction. They knew nothing of navigation and practically nothing of seamanship. So they were, in spite of all their brutality, more at the mercy of the Christians than they had realized. But resolved the plotters, if by any chance these Moslems should guess that the ship was sailing away from Algiers, then they would at once cut the Turks' throats and then throw their bodies overboard. It will be remembered that the master and some of the Torbay bark's crew were now in the exchange, and Rollins made it his business to approach these men tactfully and ask them to share in the plan. This they resolved to do. So far so good. Now the number of Turks had been gradually diminishing since the beginning of the cruise. For, first of all, nine Turks and one English slave had been sent back to Algiers with the Polakka Prize, and now some more had been sent off to the Torbay bark. Had the exchanges, Captain, fully realized how seriously he was diminishing the strength of his own force, he could scarcely have done such a foolish thing. But, throughout the whole plot, he was, without ever suspecting it, being fooled by a clever schemer. Rollins had all the tact and foresight of a diplomatist, combined with the ability to know when to strike and the power to strike hard. And all this time, while the Captain himself was diminishing the number of Moslems and simultaneously adding to the number of Englishmen by the arrival of the Torbay ship, Rollins, in the most impudent manner, was going about the ship, winning everyone except the Turkish soldiers over to his side. One knows not which to admire most, his wonderful courage or his consummate skill, for had he made one single error in reposing confidence in the wrong man, the death of the Englishmen would have been both certain and cruel. And the following step in Rollins' diplomatic advance was even more interesting still. When morning came again, it was now the seventh of February, the Torbay prize was quite out of sight. This annoyed the Captain of the exchange intensely, and he began both to storm and to swear. He commanded Rollins to search the seas up and down, but there was not a vestige of the bark. She was beyond the horizon. In course of time the Captain abated his wrath and remarked that no doubt he would see her again in Algiers and that all would be well. This remark rather worried Rollins as he began to fear the Captain would order the exchange to return to the Straits of Gibraltar. But Rollins did not allow himself to worry long and proceeded below down into the hold. Here he found that there was a good deal of water in the bilges which could not be sucked up by the pump. He came on deck and informed the Captain. The latter naturally asked how this had come about that the pump would not discharge this, and Rollins explained that the ship was too much down by the head and needed to have more weight aft to raise her boughs more out of the water. He therefore ordered Rollins to get the ship trimmed properly. The Captain was swallowing the bait most beautifully. Presently he would be hooked. Rollins explained that we must quit our cables and bring four pieces of ordnance further aft, and that would cause the water to flow to the pump. The Captain, being quite ignorant of the ways of a ship, ordered these suggestions to become orders, and so two of the guns which usually were forward were now brought with their mouths right before the binocle. In the ship were three decks. Rollins and his mates of the gunner room were warned to be ready to break up the lower deck, and the English slaves, who always lay in the middle deck, were likewise told to watch the hatchways. Rollins himself persuaded the gunner to let him have as much powder as would prime the guns, and quietly warned his Confederates to begin the mutiny as soon as ever the gun was fired, when they were to give a wild shout and hand on the password. The time appointed for the crisis was 2 p.m., and about that time Rollins advised the master gunner to speak to the Captain that the soldiers might come on the poop deck, and so bring the ship's boughs more out of the water, and cause the pump to work better. To this suggestion the Captain readily agreed. So twenty Turkish soldiers came aft to the poop, while five or six of the Confederates stole into the Captain's cabin, and brought away various weapons and shields. After that Rollins and his assistants began to pump the water. Later on, having made every preparation and considered all details, in order to avoid suspicion, the members of the gunner room went below, and the slaves in the middle deck went about their work in the usual way. Then the nine English slaves and John Rollins, the five men and one boy from the Torbay bark, the four English renegades, the two Dutch, and the four Hollenders, lifting up our hearts and thanks to God for the success of the business set to work on the final act of the cleverly conceived plot. About noon, Rowe and Davis were ordered by Rollins to prepare their matches, while most of the Turks were on the poop weighing down the stern to bring the water to the pump. The two men came with the matches, and at the appointed time Rowe fired one of the guns, which caused a terrific explosion. Immediately this was followed by wild cheering on the part of the Confederates. The explosion broke down the binoculars and compasses, and the soldiers were amazed by the cheering of the Christian slaves, and then they realized what had happened, that there had been a mutiny, that the ship had been surprised. The Turks were mad with fury and indignation. Calling the mutineers dogs, they began to tear up planks of the ship and to attack the Confederates with hammers, hatchets, knives, boats oars, boat hook, and whatever came into their hands. Even the stones and bricks of the cookroom or galley were picked up and hurled at Rollins' party. But the carefully arranged plot was working out perfectly. Below the slaves had cleared the decks of all the Turks and Moors, and Rollins now sent a guard to protect the powder, and the Confederates charged their muskets against the remaining Turks, killing some of them on the spot. The Moslems, who had been such tyrannical taskmasters, now actually called for Rollins, so he, guarded by some of his adherents, went to them. The latter fell on their knees and begged for mercy, who had shown no mercy to others. Rollins knew what he was about, and after these tyrants had been taken one by one, he caused them to be killed, while other Turks leapt overboard, remarking that it was the chance of war. Others were manacled and then hurled overboard. Some more had yet to be killed outright, and then at length the victory and annihilation were complete. By careful plotting and good organization, and a firmness at the proper time, the whole scheme had been an entire success. It happened that when the explosion had taken place, the captain was in his cabin writing, and at once rushed out. But when he saw the Confederates and how matters stood, and that the ship was already in other hands, he had once surrendered and begged for his life. He reminded Rollins how he had redeemed him from villa rise, and that he had since treated him with great consideration. Rollins had to admit that this was so, so he agreed to spare the captain his life. As before mentioned, the captain was an English renegade, whose real name was Henry Chandler, he being the son of a Chandler in Southwark. So this man was brought back to England, as well as John Goodale, Richard Clark, Gunner, Elias Jafar in Turkish, George Cook, Gunner's mate, Elias Ramadan in Turkish, John Brown, Elias Mamme in Turkish, and William Winter, Ships Carpenter, Elias Mustafa in Turkish. Besides all the slaves and hollanders, with other renegados who were willing to be reconciled to their true saviour, as being formerly seduced with the hopes of riches, honor, preferment, and such like devilish baits to catch the souls of mortal men and entangle frailty in the terriers of horrible abuses and imposturing deceit. The Englishmen now set to work and cleared the ship of the dead Muslim bodies, and then Rollins assembled his men and gave praise to God, using the accustomed service on shipboard and, for want of books, lifted up their voices to God as he put into their hearts or renewed their memories. And after having sung a Psalm, they embraced each other for playing the men in such a deliverance. The same night they washed the ship of the carnage, put everything in order, repaired the broken quarter which had been damaged by the explosion, set up the binocle again and made for England. On the 13th February the exchange arrived at Plymouth, where they were welcomed like the recovery of the lost sheep, or as you read of a loving mother that Runnethwith embraces to entertain her son from a long voyage and escape of many dangers. As for the Torbay bark, she too had got back to England, having arrived at Penzance two days before. Her story is brief but not less interesting. The mate had been informed of Rollins' plan, and he and his friends had agreed. But the carrying out of this had been a far simpler and neater matter than that which had taken place on the exchange. For once again mere landsmen had been fooled at the hands of seamen. It happened on this wise. They made the Turks believe that the wind had now come fair and that the prize was being sailed back to Algiers. This they believed until they cited the English shore, when one of the Turks remarked that that land is not like Cape St. Vincent. To this the man at the helm replied very neatly, Yes, and if you will be contented and go down into the hold and turn the salt over to Windward, whereby the ship may bear full sail, you shall know and see more to-morrow. Suspecting nothing, the five Turks then went quietly down. But as soon as they had gone below into the hold, the Renegados, with the help of two Englishmen, nailed down the hatches and kept the rascals there till they reached Penzance. But one of the other Turks was on deck, and at this incident he broke out into great rage. This was but short-lived, for an Englishman stepped up to him, dashed out his brains, and threw his body overboard. All the other prisoners were brought safely to England, and lodged either in Plymouth jail or Exeter, either to be arraigned according to the punishment of delinquents in that kind, or disposed of as the King and Council shall think meet. We need not stop to imagine the joy of welcoming back men who had been lost in slavery. We need not try to guess the delight of the West Countrymen that at last some of these Renegados had been brought back to be punished in England. There is not the slightest doubt of this story of the exchange being true, but it shows that even in that rather disappointing age which followed on immediately after the defeat of the Armada, there were, at a time when maritime matters were under a cloud, not wanting English semen of the right stamp, men of courage and action, men who could fight and navigate a ship as in the spacious days of Queen Elizabeth. Happily, the type of man which includes such sailor characters as Rollins is not yet dead. The Anglo-Saxon race still rears many of his caliber, and it needs only the opportunity to display such nerve, daring enterprise, and tactful action.