EFFORTS TO ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY.
The struggles for freedom could not always assume the shape of conspiracy. They were often efforts to escape, sometimes in numbers and sometimes singly. The captivity of Cervantes was filled with such, where, though constantly balked, he persevered with courage and skill. On one occasion he attempted to escape by land to Oran, a Spanish settlement on the coast, but, being deserted by his guide, was compelled to return.[77] Another endeavor was promoted by Christian merchants at Algiers, through whose agency a vessel was actually purchased for this purpose. And still another was favored by a number of his own countrymen, hovering on the coast in a vessel from Majorca, who did not think it wrong to aid in the liberation of slaves. And this was supposed to be aided by a Spanish ecclesiastic, Father Olivar, who, being at Algiers for the ransom of slaves, could not resist the temptation to lend generous assistance to the struggles of fellow-Christians in bonds. He paid the bitter penalty which similar service to freedom has found elsewhere and in another age. He was seized by the Dey, and thrown into chains; for the Algerine government held it a high offence to further in any way the escape of a slave.[78]
Endeavors for freedom are animating; nor can any honest nature hear of them without a throb of sympathy. Dwelling on the painful narrative of unequal contest between tyrannical power and the crushed captive, we resolutely enter the lists on the side of freedom; and beholding the contest waged by a few individuals, or, perhaps, by one alone, our sympathy is given to his weakness as well as to his cause. To him we send the unfaltering succor of good wishes. For him we invoke vigor of arm to defend and fleetness of foot to escape. Human enactments are vain to restrain the warm tides of the heart. We pause with rapture on those historic scenes where freedom has been attempted or preserved through the magnanimous self-sacrifice of friendship or Christian aid. With palpitating bosom we follow Mary of Scotland in her midnight flight from the custody of her stern jailers; we accompany Grotius in his escape from prison, so adroitly promoted by his wife; we join Lavalette in his flight, aided also by his wife; and we offer our admiration and gratitude to Huger and Bollmann, who, unawed by the arbitrary ordinances of Austria, strove heroically, though vainly, to rescue Lafayette from the dungeons of Olmütz. The laws of Algiers, which sanctioned a cruel slavery, dooming to condign punishment all endeavors for freedom, and especially all countenance of such endeavors, can no longer prevent our sympathy with Cervantes, not less gallant than renowned, who strove so constantly and earnestly to escape his chains,—nor our homage to those Christians also who did not fear to aid him, and to the good ecclesiastic who suffered in his cause.[79]
The efforts to escape from slavery in the Barbary States, so far as they can be traced, are full of interest. Each, also, has its lesson for us at the present hour. The following is in the exact words of an early writer. "One John Fox, an expert mariner, and a good, approved, and sufficient gunner, was (in the raigne of Queene Elizabeth) taken by the Turkes, and kept eighteene yeeres in most miserable bondage and slavery; at the end of which time he espied his opportunity (and God assisting him withall), that hee slew his keeper, and fled to the sea's side, where he found a gally with one hundred and fifty captive Christians, which hee speedily waying their anchor, set saile, and fell to worke like men, and safely arrived in Spaone, by which meanes he freed himselfe and a number of poore soules from long and intolerable servitude; after which the said John Fox came into England, and the Queene (being rightly informed of his brave exploit) did graciously entertaine him for her servant, and allowed him a yeerely pension."[80]
There is also in the same early source a quaint description of what occurred to a ship from Bristol, captured by an Algerine corsair in 1621. The Englishmen were all taken out except four youths, over whom the Turks, as these barbarians are often called by early writers, put thirteen of their own men, to conduct the ship as prize to Algiers; and one of the pirates, "a strong, able, sterne, and resolute fellow," was appointed captain. "These foure poore youths," so the story proceeds, "being thus fallen into the hands of mercilesse infidels, began to studie and complot all the meanes they could for the obtayning of their freedomes. First, they considered the lamentable and miserable estates that they were like to be in,—as, to be debard for ever from seeing their friends and countrey, to be chained, beaten, made slaves, and to eate the bread of affliction in the gallies, all the remainder of their unfortunate lives, to have their heads shaven, to feed on course dyet, to have hard boords for beds, and, which was worst of all, never to be partakers of the heavenly word and sacraments. Thus being quite hopelesse, haplesse, and, for any thing they knew, for ever helplesse, they sayled five dayes and nights under the command of the pirats, when, on the fifth night, God, in his great mercy, shewed them a meanes for their wished for escape." A sudden wind arose, when, the captain coming to help take in the mainsail, two of the English youths "suddenly tooke him by the breech and threw him over-boord; but by fortune hee fell into the bunt of the sayle, where, quickly catching hold of a rope, he (being a very strong man) had almost gotten into the ship againe, which John Cooke perceiving leaped speedily to the pumpe and tooke off the pumpe brake or handle and cast it to William Ling, bidding him knocke him downe, which he was not long in doing, but, lifting up the woodden weapon, he gave him such a palt on the pate as made his braines forsake the possession of his head, with which his body fell into the sea." The corsair slave-dealers were overpowered. The four English youths drove them "from place to place in the ship, and having coursed them from the poope to the forecastle, they there valiantly killed two of them, and gave another a dangerous wound or two, who, to escape the further fury of their swords, leap'd suddenly over-boord to goe seeke his captaine." The other nine Turks ran between-decks, where they were securely fastened. The English now directed their course to St. Lucas, in Spain, and "in short time (by Gods ayde) happily and safely arrived at the said port, where they sold the nine Turkes for gally-slaves for a good summe of money, and, as I thinke, a great deale more then they were worth." "He that shall attribute such things as these to the arme of flesh and bloud," says the ancient historian, grateful for this triumph of freedom, "is forgetfull, ingratefull, and in a manner atheisticall."[81]
From the same authority I draw another narrative of singular success the following year. A company of Englishmen, being captured and carried into Algiers, were sold as slaves. These are the words of one of their number: "The souldiers hurried us like dogs into the market, where as men sell hacknies in England we were tossed up and downe to see who would give most for us; and although we had heavy hearts and looked with sad countenances, yet many came to behold us, sometimes taking us by the hand, sometime turning us round about, sometimes feeling our brawnes and naked armes, and so beholding our prices written in our breasts, they bargained for us accordingly, and at last we were all sold." Shortly afterward several were put on board an Algerine corsair. One of them, John Rawlins, who resembled Cervantes in the hardihood of his exertions for freedom,—as, like him, he had lost the use of a hand,—arranged an uprising on board. "'Oh hellish slaverie,'" he said, "'to be thus subject to dogs! Oh, God strengthen my heart and hand, and something shall be done to ease us of these mischiefes, and deliver us from these cruell Mahumetan dogs.' The other slaves, pittying his distraction (as they thought), bad him speake softly, lest they should all fare the worse for his distemperature. 'The worse,' (quoth Rawlins,) 'what can be worse? I will either attempt my deliverance at one time or another, or perish in the enterprise.'" Seizing an auspicious moment, nine English slaves, besides John Rawlins, with other English, French, and Hollanders, "in all foure and twenty and a boy," succeeded, after a bloody contest, in overpowering five-and-forty Turks. "When all was done," the story proceeds, "and the ship cleared of the dead bodies, John Rawlins assembled his men together, and with one consent gave the praise unto God, using the accustomed service on ship-boord, and, for want of bookes, lifted up their voyces to God, as he put into their hearts or renewed their memories; then did they sing a psalme, and, last of all, embraced one another for playing the men in such a deliverance, whereby our feare was turned into joy, and trembling hearts exhillirated, that we had escaped such inevitable dangers, and especially the slavery and terror of bondage worse then death it selfe. The same night we washed our ship, put every thing in as good order as we could, repaired the broken quarter, set up the biticle, and bore up the helme for England, where by Gods grace and good guiding we arrived at Plimmoth the thirteenth of February."[82]
In 1685, Thomas Phelps and Edmund Baxter, Englishmen, accomplished their escape from captivity at Mequinez. The latter had made a previous unsuccessful attempt, which drew upon him the bastinado, disabling him from work for a twelvemonth; "but, notwithstanding, such was his love for Christian liberty," that he freely declared to his companion "that he would adventure with any fair opportunity." Here the story is like one of our own day. By devious paths, journeying in the darkness of night, and by day sheltering themselves in bushes or in the branches of fig-trees, they at length reached the sea. "With imminent risk of discovery, they succeeded in finding a boat not far from Sallee. This they took without consulting the proprietor, and rowed to a distant ship, which, to their great joy, proved to be an English man-of-war. Making known the exposed situation of the Moorish ships at Mamora, they formed part of a night expedition in boats which boarded and burnt them. "One Moor," says the account, "we found aboard, who was presently cut in pieces; another was shot in the head, endeavoring to escape upon the cable. We were not long in taking in our shavings and tar-barrels, and so set her on fire in several places, she being very apt to receive what we designed; for there were several barrels of tar upon the deck, and she was newly tarred, as if on purpose. Whilst we were setting her on fire, we heard a noise of some people in the hold; we opened the skuttles, and thereby saved the lives of four Christians, three Dutch-men and one French, who told us the ship on fire was admiral, and belonged to Aly-Hackum, and the other, which we soon after served with the same sauce, had the name of Plummage Cortibe, which was the very ship which in October last took me captive." The Englishman, once a captive, who tells this story, says it is "most especially to move pity for the afflictions of Joseph, to excite compassionate regard to those poor countrymen now languishing in misery and irons, to endeavor their releasement."[83]
Even the non-resistance of Quakers, animated by zeal for freedom, contrived to baffle these slave-dealers. A ship in the charge of these Christians became the prey of Algerines; and the curious story is told, with details unnecessary here, of the manner in which the vessel was subsequently recaptured by the crew without loss of life. To complete this triumph, the slave-pirates were safely landed on their own shores, and allowed to go their way in peace, acknowledging with astonishment and gratitude this new application of the Christian injunction to do good to them that hate you. On the return, Charles the Second, being at Greenwich, and learning that "there was a Quaker ketch coming up the river, that had been taken by the Turks, and redeemed themselves without fighting," came to it in his barge, and there hearing "how they had let the Turks go free," said to the master, with the spirit of a slave-dealer, "You have done like a fool, for you might have had good gain for them." And to the mate he said, "You should have brought the Turks to me." "I thought it better for them to be in their own country," was the Quaker's reply.[84]
These are English stories. But there is testimony also from France. A Catholic father furnishes a chapter entitled, "Of some Slaves that made their Escape"; and he begins by narrating the difficulties: how the slaves, before they start, secure the assistance of certain Moors, called Metadores, "who promise to conduct them among Christians for a sum agreed on"; how they journey all night, sheltering themselves during the day in woods, caves, or other retired places, always in dread, and anxiously awaiting the return of darkness to cover their movements; how the flight is long and wearisome, environed by perpetual hardship and peril; how, if alone, there is danger of death on the mountains, through hunger and thirst, or from lions and tigers; and how, if retaken, there is the fearful prospect of being burned or cruelly bastinadoed, with a constant weight of irons while at their daily toil. "But their torments and dangers," says the father, "are less dreadful than the thoughts of living all their days in that miserable slavery."[85]
Then comes the narrative of two Frenchmen who with incredible effort journeyed one hundred and fifty leagues, being on the road eighteen nights "without eating anything considerable," and were at last so near their liberty as to see a town belonging to the king of Portugal, making them forget their fatigues, when they were unhappily retaken, hurried back to their master, loaded with irons, and condemned to double labor. As they were studying a second escape, they were relieved by death, that constant friend of the slave. This narrative is followed by that of two other Frenchmen, who commenced their escape on the 2d of October, 1693, "having no other guide than the North Star to direct their course." And here ensues that succession of trials which is the lot of the fugitive slave, all of which is told at length. There was peril in leaving the city and passing the outer guards; but when this was done, then came the desert, with its rocks and precipices, where they met "some tigers and many lions," making it hideous with their roaring; but worse than tiger or lion was the fiery thirst that pursued them; and worse than all was man, for it was from him that they feared most. They, too, found themselves in sight of the liberty they had sought with such pain, when, like their predecessors, they were retaken and hurried back. Asked why they had fled, they answered, "For the sake of liberty, and we are guilty of no other crime." Burdened with heavy chains, they were again put to work, with the threat of being burned alive, if they attempted the like again. But notwithstanding all this terrible experience and the menace of death by the flames, they made another attempt, "preferring," says the Catholic father, "all perils and hardships before the insupportable burden of their captivity." Again they failed, and were carried back to fearful torment, when at last they were ransomed by the mission in the name of the French monarch.[86]
In the current of time other instances occurred. A letter from Algiers, dated August 6, 1772, and preserved in the British Annual Register, furnishes the following story. "A most remarkable escape," it says, "of some Christian prisoners has lately been effected here, which will undoubtedly cause those that have not had that good fortune to be treated with the utmost rigor. On the morning of the 27th of July, the Dey was informed that all the Christian slaves had escaped over-night in a galley. This news soon raised him, and, upon inquiry, it was found to have been a preconcerted plan. About ten at night, seventy-four slaves, who had found means to escape from their masters, met in a large square near the gate which opens to the harbor, and, being well armed, they soon forced the guard to submit, and, to prevent their raising the city, confined them all in the powder-magazine. They then proceeded to the lower part of the harbor, where they embarked on board a large rowing polacre, that was left there for the purpose, and, the tide ebbing out, they fell gently down with it, and passed both the forts. As soon as this was known, three large galleys were ordered out after them, but to no purpose. They returned in three days, with the news of seeing the polacre sail into Barcelona, where the galleys durst not go to attack her."[87]
The same historic authority records another triumph of freedom. "Forty-six captives," it says, at the date of September 3, 1776, "who were employed to draw stones from a quarry some leagues' distance from Algiers, at a place named Genova, resolved, if possible, to recover their liberty, and yesterday took advantage of the idleness and inattention of forty men who were to guard them, and who had laid down their arms, and were rambling about the shore. The captives attacked them with pick-axes and other tools, and made themselves masters of their arms; and having killed thirty-three of the forty, and eleven of the thirteen sailors who were in the boat which carried the stones, they obliged the rest to jump into the sea. Being then masters of the boat, and armed with twelve muskets, two pistols, and powder, &c., they set sail, and had the good fortune to arrive here [at Palma, the capital of Majorca] this morning, where they are performing quarantine. Sixteen of them are Spaniards, seventeen French, eight Portuguese, three Italians, one a German, and one a Sardinian."[88] Here, as in other cases, I copy the precise language of the authority, without adding a word. These simple stories show how captives have escaped and the world has sympathized.