Cutthroats of the Coast

Chapter 27 - There is a Jonah amongst us

"I am going to tear off that fucking, filching fart's head and shit in his skull! Just see if I don't!"

I had never yet seen Jack roused to such a passion.  He was an even-tempered man, by and large, but the sight of Soloman Jones had stirred his blood.  He paced up and down the crowded room the men of La Ruse had been quartered in and swore in an almost incomprehensible stream of vile oaths.

After witnessing Jones' punishment, we had been taken up to the next level of the house and placed into a room that had once been a broad space of handsome proportions, illuminated by wide Arabesque windows, or mashrabiyas, that overlooked the dusty street below.

Now it was a sweltering oven of humanity.  Pallets had been stacked four high and tied together, forming sleeping platforms for the men that filled the room.  There was some space between these shelves but it was barely wide enough for one man to navigate the gangways created.  The broken fretwork of the mashrabiyas let in some air and little light so men in the bagnio compensated by spending some of the little money they had on smoky tapers that lit their gloomy spaces.  It was a great wonder that the whole place had not yet been consumed by some mighty conflagration.

Our space gradually filled with men and the stink of the galleys – the sour sweat, piss and human odure that caked rags and bodies alike.  Of course, we were only the first draft from La Ruse, the remainder of the slaves joined us through the day.  Every group that arrived at the bagnio was met by the little fat man and treated to a demonstration of the falaka on some other unfortunate inmate  every bit as violent as Jones' experience.  Abu Ibn Ibrahim, our gaoler,was most conscientious in not sparing the rod.   In point of fact he was possessed of a wealth of malefactors who required his determined attention.

Despite Abu and the Africans, the bagnio was a strangely free place. We had the liberty of the house, apart from certain areas where our gaolers were quartered themselves.  Save for the main doors to the street,there were few locks.  A guard was kept but it was hardly visible since the prisoners policed themselves. So long as we remained within the precincts of the bagnio, and so long as we did not cross Abu, we could expect little trouble.  If a man escaped, his remaining shipmates suffered for his part.  Talk of escape endangered one to chastisement from one's fellows.  Where would a man escape to anyway?  A European slave would find no succour in Salé, nor the environs around it.  A Morrocan could expect only death on recapture since he had little ransom value.  'Twas a highly efficient arrangement.

That is not to say that we were entirely free from molestation.  The crews of different corsairs reflected their own captains' petty rivalries.   This we would find out later but on our first day in the bagnio, we were too exhausted from our cruise to do more than lie on the old straw of our palettes and sleep.

Save Jack, who stormed about as if the Devil had left a coal in what was left of his soiled breeches.  Ire had restored him.  I, on the other hand, and Ramsbottom, who had silently rejoined the fold with mute acceptance of Jack's superiority, lay on our sides and goaded poor Jack into further outbursts.   Our sport was not pretty but it was all we had in us.

"Come now, Jack," said I, with a smirk that my father would have whipped me for wearing, "it cannot be a bad thing to make the acquaintance of an old shipmate.  'Twill be enlightening to hear Mr Jones's tale of his sojourn."

"P-p-perhaps it w-would be a fine thing to have an officer with us again, J-Jack?"  Ramsbottom opined. "S-Solly Jones'll know a way out of this sh-shit-hole, you can be sure of that."

"SollyJones would know how to get out of Old Nick's arsehole but I wouldn't trust him to take us too! We'd still be left in the shit." He thrust a grimy hand through his matted hair and spat on the floor.   "He's a bad 'un, through and through!"