“In this deplorable situation we at last arrived at Dunkirk, where the wounded were put on shore in order to be carried to the marine hospital. We were drawn up from the hold by pulleys and carried to the hospital on men’s shoulders. The slaves were consigned to two large apartments separate from the men who were free, forty beds in each room. Every slave was chained by the leg to the foot of his bed. We were visited once every day by the surgeon-major of the hospital, accompanied by all the army and navy surgeons then in port.”
Better fortune came to Marteilhe when he recovered. He was appointed clerk to the captain of the galley, being maimed by his wounds and no longer fit for the oar.
“Behold me now,” he writes, “placed in a more exalted station, not less than the captain’s clerk, forsooth. As I knew my master loved cleanliness, I purchased a short coat of red stuff (galley-slaves must wear no other color) tolerably fine. I was permitted to let my hair grow. I bought a scarlet cap, and in this trim presented myself before the captain, who was greatly pleased with my appearance. He gave his maître d’hôtel orders to carry me every day a plate of meat from his own table and to furnish me with a bottle of wine, luxuries to which I had long been a stranger. I was never more chained and only wore a ring about my leg in token of slavery. I lay upon a good bed. I had nothing fatiguing to do, even at times when all the rest of the crew were lashed to the most violent exertion. I was loved and respected by the officers and the rest of the crew, cherished by my master and by his nephew, the major of the galleys. In short, I wanted nothing but liberty to increase the happiness I then enjoyed. In this state, if not of pleasure at least of tranquillity, I continued from the year 1709 to 1712, in which it pleased heaven to afflict me with trials more severe than even those I had already experienced.”
England acquired Dunkirk by special treaty with France in 1712. Upon the transfer the English troops entered the city and took possession of the citadel. The French galleys were to remain in port until the fortifications were demolished, and it was agreed that no vessel should leave Dunkirk without permission from Her Britannic Majesty. The galley-slaves remained on board their ships, but by some strange oversight it was not stipulated that the Protestant prisoners, with whose sad condition the English fully sympathised, should be released. The French government was still determined to retain them, and planned to carry them off secretly into France before any demand could be made for their release. In the dead of night they were embarked to the number of twenty-two on board a fishing boat and taken by water to Calais, where they were landed to make the long journey on foot, chained together, to Havre-de-Grace. Here they were held close prisoners in the Arsenal, but fairly well treated. After some weeks, orders came for their removal to Rouen, en route for Paris and eventually to Marseilles. Through the kindness of their co-religionists, who came charitably to their aid, they were provided with wagons for the journey in which all were carried to the capital, where on arrival they were lodged in the ancient castle of Tournelle, formerly a pleasure house belonging to the royal family, but by now converted into a prison for galley-slaves. It is thus described by Marteilhe: “This prison, or rather cavern, is round and of vast extent. The floor is made uneven by large oak beams, which are placed at three feet distance from each other. These beams are two feet and a half thick, and ranged along the floors in such a manner that at first sight they might be taken for benches, were they not designed for a much more disagreeable purpose. To these were fastened large iron chains, a foot and a half long, at intervals of two feet from each other. At the end of each chain is a large ring of the same metal. When the slave is first brought into this prison, he is made to lie along the beam till his head touches it. Then the ring is put round his neck and fastened by a hammer and anvil kept for the purpose. As the chains are fixed in the beam at two feet distance from each other, and some of the beams are forty feet long, sometimes twenty men are thus chained down in a row and so in proportion to the length of the beams. In this manner are fastened five hundred wretches in an attitude certainly pitiful enough to melt the hardest heart.
Château D’If
Fortress on a small island two miles southwest of Marseilles: one of the scenes of Dumas’s novel “Count of Monte Cristo,” and the place of captivity of several celebrated persons, among them Mirabeau and Philippe Égalité.
“We remained here (in the Tournelle) but a month, at the expiration of which time we set out with the rest of the slaves for Marseilles. On the tenth of December, at nine in the morning, we left our dismal abode and were conducted into a spacious court of the castle. We were chained by the neck, two and two together, with a heavy chain three feet long, in the middle of which was fixed a ring. After being thus paired, we were placed in ranks, couple before couple, and a long and weighty chain passed through the rings, by which means we were all fastened together. This ‘chain,’ which consisted of more than four hundred slaves, made a strange appearance. Once more a Protestant friend interposed and purchased the captain’s consent to allow them to provide wagons on the road for those unable to walk. But the trials endured by the majority of these wretched wayfarers were terribly severe. We entered Charenton at six in the evening by moonlight. It froze excessively hard, but the weight of our chains, according to the captain’s calculation, being a hundred and fifty pounds upon every man, with the swiftness of our pace, had kept us pretty warm, and we were all actually in a sweat when we entered Charenton. Here we were lodged in the stable of an inn, but chained so close to the manger, that we could neither sit nor lie at our ease. Beside, we had no bed but the dung and the litter of horses to repose on; for as the captain conducted the train to Marseilles at his own expense, where he received twenty crowns for every one that survived the journey, he was as saving as possible and refused us bedding, nor was any allowed the whole way. Here, however, we were suffered to repose, if it might be called repose, till nine at night, when we were to undergo another piece of cruelty, which almost disgraces humanity.
“At nine o’clock, while it yet froze excessively hard, our chains were again unriveted and we were all led from the stable into a court surrounded by high walls. The whole train, which was ranked at one end of the court, was commanded to strip off all clothes and lay them down each before him. The whip was exercised unmercifully on those who were lazy or presumed to disobey. Every one promiscuously, as well we as others, was obliged to comply with this unnecessary command. After we were thus stripped, naked as when born, the whole train was again commanded to march from the side of the court in which they were to the side opposite them. Here were we for two hours, stark naked, exposed to all the inclemency of the weather and a cutting wind that blew from the north. All this time the archers were rummaging our rags under pretence of searching for knives, files or other instruments that might be employed in effecting our escape; but in reality money was that for which they sought so earnestly. They took away everything that was worth taking,—handkerchiefs, shirts, snuff-boxes, scissors,—and never returned anything they laid hands on. When any slave entreated to have his goods restored, he was only answered by blows and menaces, which effectually silenced if not satisfied the querist. This rummage being over, all were ordered to march back to the place from whence we came, and take again each his respective bundle of clothes. But it was impossible. We were almost frozen to death, and so stiff with cold that scarce one in the whole train could move. And though the distance was but small, yet frozen like statues, every wretch remained where he was and silently awaited fresh instances of their keeper’s cruelty. But they did not long wait; the whip again was handled and by the merciless fury of these strangers to pity, the bodies of the poor wretches were mangled without distinction; but all in vain, for this could not supply vital warmth where life was no more. Some actually dead, others dying, were dragged along by the neck and thrown into the stable, without further ceremony, to take their fate. And thus died that night or the ensuing morning, eighteen persons. With respect to our little society, we were neither beaten nor thus dragged along and we may well attribute the saving of our lives to the hundred crowns which had been advanced before our setting out.”
Further details of this cruel march may be spared the reader. “In this manner,” says Marteilhe, “we crossed the Isle of France, Burgundy and the Mâconnais, till we came to Lyons, marching every day three or four leagues; long stages, considering the weight of our chains, our being obliged to sleep every night in stables upon dung, our having bad provisions and not sufficient liquid to dilute them, walking all day mid-leg in mud, and frequently wet through with rain; swarming with vermin and ulcerated with the itch, the almost inseparable attendants on misery.” At Lyons the whole train embarked in large flat-bottomed boats and dropped down the Rhone as far as the bridge St. Esprit; thence by land to Avignon and from Avignon to Marseilles, which they reached on the 17th of January, 1713, having spent some six weeks on the road.