Cutthroats of the Coast

Chapter 32 - Solomon Jones Must Die!

It was a while before I could further our plans for escape on Solomon Jones' boat, which was probably a good thing since I am not sure that Jones would have survived a purge, so weak was he.   The very next day, we slaves in the bagnio were whipped into divisions, and harried down to the harbour amid swarms of yelling abid.

There we were corralled and intermittently beaten with long canes by shouting red faced sailors, who pushed and shoved us like cattle to waiting boats.  It seemed that every small fishing boat in Salé had been conscripted to ferry us out to our vessels, the waiting xebecs.  If it wasn't for the dun cargo of ragged wretches that threatened to overturn them, they would have made a mighty pretty sight.  Each little boat was painted a bright azure, upon which stripes of every colour were laid.  Combined with their reflections, it was as if a painter's palette had been overset in the harbour, their brilliant tones mingling with the canvas of the sea.  As we rocked on our way to La Ruse, standing in our boat with only the knee high, worn gunwale to hold on to, I admired the sight of so much colour moving to and fro across the harbour.

Jafar Rais' voice boomed like poorly articulated thunder from La Ruse, urging us on to make haste.  He did not restrict his abuse to just the slaves either.  Abid, wherrymen, fishermen, sailors and captains were all cursed for being slow-arsed motherless whores.  However, when he threw his abuse at the abid, he always did so in Dutch.  Although my heart was heavy with trepidation at the prospect of another voyage at the oar, Jafar Rais' circumspection did raise a wry smile.

Every bagnio in Salé emptied that day and every ship in De Croix's fleet put to sea.  La Ruse sailed at the head of a proud column of xebecs, great  green banners streaming to leeward, embroidered with golden verses from the Koran.  The great, triangular lateen sails bellied and were pushed taut, heeling the ships over as oars dipped and pulled, thrusting the vessels into the open sea, heaving through wave and breaker, lacing the sea with creaming wakes.

Twelve xebecs and poleacres embarked that day.  De Croix's intention was to exercise the fleet now that most of his ships carried a full complement of galley slaves.  Apparently, La Ruse had not been the last to crew or victual itself. That was the reason why we had spent a week on shore after our first cruise.  Now we were to spend another horrid week at sea, under the cruel gaze of the Frenchman, who rarely moved from his position just aft of the quarterdeck rail, watching his command.

Twelve ships left Salé yet only eight returned. The voyage was a disaster.

Almost as soon as we were out of sight of land, a great sand storm blew up from the Sahara desert that shrouded the fleet in a yellow, choking haze.  We watched the towering mass of brown cloud approach us, stretching from horizon to horizon as it swept over the sea at an unreasonable speed.   There was barely enough time for the command to reef in the sails to ring out before the storm smashed its way into us, leaving the fleet stunned by the force of its impact.

Mighty winds swept us further to the west, shrieking through the rigging as dust and sand piled up in drifts against any leeward obstruction.  The sun disappeared and the only light on deck came from the storm lanterns that the crew lit, the faint orbs that glowed in the gloom the only indication of where the stern and bow of the La Ruse were.   On one of my few forays topside, I could see little beyond me but my hand and hear nothing but the ever present roar of the wind that rose to an alarming wail in the rigging above, the hiss of sand that blasted across every surface, the creaking moans of the hull and the crash of La Ruse shouldering her way through the heavy seas.  Fine grit stung my eyes like the pricking of a thousand needles and filled my mouth as soon as I opened it to speak, as it had already filled ears and nostrils.  I quickly found that the oar deck, for all its foulness, was preferable to life above and accordingly retreated below.