Algeria in the 17th century

[autumnleaf]

From The Claddagh Ring
Copyright 2011

[Richard Joyce has been kidnapped by Barbary pirates and transported to Algiers. Several shipmates have also been captured, including the sailor Gogarty and the cabin boy, Sean. Ghaleb Reis is captain of the Algerian crew, and Ishmael is one of his crewmen. This scene takes place just as the ship arrives in port.]

On the 20th day, a blast of gunfire woke Richard. Gogarty's foot jerked on the chain and almost pulled Richard's ankle off.

“Wha-what?”

Richard's first sensation was a fearful cramp in his gut; they were being attacked. His next thought brought a smile to his face; attack for the corsairs meant rescue for their prisoners. But no, the noise outside was not of battle but of celebration. The gunshots and the multilingual cheers of the corsairs were joined by a rising tempo of other voices. The side of the ship bumped into something solid; they were docking.

Dear God, wherever we are, it can't be worse than here. Can it?

The door was unbolted and the men were forced out of the dark and up onto the deck, where the sun's rays were like daggers to the eyes. The chained line moved forward – shuffle, clank – and spots swam in front of Richard's eyes as he grew used to the light. The harbour was a forest of masts. The city walls shone back, whiter than chalk, almost as white as diamond, sweeping upwards. In other circumstances, it would have been beautiful.

“I've a feeling it's not to London town they've brought us,” said Gogarty. “It did seem like a roundabout journey to get there.”

“Stand still and be quiet!” Ghaleb Reis roared, and each chained leg jerked to attention. A trickle of sweat ran down Richard's back. The air was thick as oil but – oh sweet God – he could breathe. He took in a long gulp of breathe. Wherever I am, I'm out of that hellhole, and I can breathe.

A man in a green turban boarded, and cast a quick eye over the crew. Richard knew that look; he had seen horses being traded. Green Turban snapped his fingers at Ghaleb Reis, and there was some nodding and conversing in their own language. Some of the guttural tones reminded Richard of Gaelic, but he couldn't understand a word.

Ishmael raised the whip, but the column of men moved before he cracked it. Over the gangplank they went, and the crowds parted to let them pass towards the dazzling walls. Shuffle, clank. Bearded men wore turbans and long robes. A fortress overlooked the harbour, cannons pointing from its turrets.

Mother of God, protect us all from harm.

A small boy rushed out to touch Sean's red hair, and a white sheet sailed out of the crowd with a slender hand to pull the child back. A pair of black-rimmed eyes blinked at Richard from the top of her veil, regarding him as one might a cow going to market. He caught the oily scent of her perfume as she disappeared into the crowd.

The men formed a snake as they passed under the marina gate and into the maw of the city. Shuffle, clank. The streets were so narrow that the balconies overhead almost touched each other, but at least there was shelter from the sun. The line stopped as a donkey blocked their way. Ishmael beat at the animal with his stick and cursed the old man leading it. Richard felt a blow to his arm to propel him on his way. Eyes gazed out from the darkened interiors and down from the balconies. The prisoners' threadbare slippers and heavy chain dragged through the donkey dung.

Shuffle, clank. Deeper and deeper into the maze they went, moving uphill all the way. The smell was flowers, and dung, and perfume, and the oily smoke of unfamiliar food. Richard's stomach heaved, but it was too dry to bring anything up. There was nothing here familiar, nothing to grasp onto, nothing to remind him of the life he'd once had. He may as well have crossed the River Styx into the underworld. And I lost the coin to pay my way.

They paused before a great iron gate, which opened before them. The sun on white marble came dappling through branches, trees wafting scents of leaf and citrus. A fountain shot water into the air, and Richard caught a cool spray on his cheek.

“Jaysus,” said Gogarty.

A tinkle of laughter came from beyond the lemon trees. Female laughter, although no women were to be seen; the sounds came from upwards, from the overhanging balconies. Shuffle, clank. The prisoners were propelled under a blue-tiled arch and through to a large room of marble and cedarwood, turbaned men on low sofas pausing over their hookah pipes to stare. When Ghaleb Reis bowed to another man, and the line jerked to a stop.

The man rose from his sofa at the head of the hall. He was not tall, but his turban was wrapped to make him a head higher and held an ostrich feather that added still more to his height. As he strolled forwards, a velvet sword-sheath swung at his hip.

Ghaleb Reis announced to the prisoners:“Behold the Dey of Algiers!”

[mohovitch]

Autumnleaf,

Thank you for your work. I hope that I will have a chance to read your book when it is out.

I m not a expert at all and I may show my ignorance with these remarks:

"...Bearded men wore turbans and long robes..." I believe that at that time, men in Algiers also had whiskers and wore Turkish trousers.

Algiers was not only narrow roads. Part of the city was destroyed by the french. I believe that there were also open spaces, this picture shows an slave market in Algiers in 1684:
http://www.algeria.com/forums/attach...8964278-10-jpg

Thanks again

[mohovitch]

Algiers in 1634
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Algiers in 1684
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[mohovitch]

Attending the diwan, Algiers 1684.
f8ea9f9837d1a5ab6f7b7a03e5a1711cc0bec206.jpg

[mohovitch]

Fortifications of Algiers, 1702

7a2e6037443d4e863ed67bb1c3e6202c9916d43e.jpg

[mohovitch]

Map of the city of Algiers and its defences in 1684:

805c4a54df719dff1fe3d27c63de567ff120b462.jpg

[mohovitch]

Algiers in 1700

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