The Wanderer (3 page)

Andy said, “This battle’s lost already, as we have no more than fifteen able-bodied men among us. According to all the rules of war—on land, that is; I know nothing of the sea—we should lay down our arms and negotiate for honorable terms of peace.”

But the pock-marked captain said, “Let us trust in God and hope that the war galley is not far off, and already searching for us. If I surrender this ship without a blow struck I shall incur black dishonor, and the Signoria of the Republic will move heaven and earth to seize me and string me up at the yardarm. But if I fight bravely and survive, the Signoria will buy me out of slavery. And if 1 should fall in battle against the infidel, I have good reason to hope that my soul, freed from sin, will fly straight to heaven.”

Brother Jehan, hoarse with terror, brandished a copper crucifix and yelled, “He who falls in battle against the followers of the false prophet is worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven! He who while on pilgrimage dies at the hands of infidels wins the glorious crown of the martyrs! And truly that crown has never been nearer to us than now. Let us therefore do battle like brave men, and may the name of Jesus be our war cry!”

Andy scratched his ear dubiously, and thrust his fist into the mouth of our only cannon, which was green with age and neglect. There was nothing in it but bits of old birds’ nests. From his cabin the captain threw out an armful of rusty swords, which clattered to the deck, while the crew sullenly picked up their iron pikes. The captain also brought out a big harquebus and I tried to load it, being used to handling such weapons, but the powder was damp. The strange vessel was by now so near that I could distinguish the green and red flags floating from the mast, and we saw also the dread turbans of the crew and the dazzle of many keen scimitars.

At this moment several sharp shots rang out. Two men fell bleeding to the deck and a third seized his wrist with a howl. Then a shower of arrows sang toward us, and many men were hit. When Brother Jehan saw the blood and heard the heart-rending cries of the wounded he was thrown into an ecstasy of sheer terror; he leaped about the deck, tucked the skirts of his habit into the rope girdle, exposing his hairy legs, and shrieked in tones of triumph, “See the blood of the martyrs! This day we shall meet in Paradise, and before God’s throne there is no more precious jewel than the martyrs’ crown.”

Other pilgrims too began madly jumping about the deck and brandishing their weapons, while the invalids gave tongue in a quivering psalm. But Andy drew me into the shelter of the deck house where the captain joined us, shedding tears and crossing himself repeatedly as he said, “May the Virgin and all the saints pity me and may Jesus Christ forgive my sins. I know that ship; she’s from the island of Jerba and is commanded by a pirate named Torgut, who shows no mercy to Christians. Let us sell our lives as dearly as we may, since we’re bound to lose them.”

But any attempt at defense against this seasoned pirate could only result in useless bloodshed, for at a given signal the rowers drew in their oars, leaving their vessel with way enough on her to glide alongside. Numbers of grapnels caught our rail, the two hulls ground together, and we were fast bound to our assailant by countless lines and chains. Our captain, like the honorable man he was, dashed sword in hand to the encounter of the pirates who were now swarming in over the side. But there were few who followed him, and he fell with a cloven skull before he had inflicted a single wound. Seeing his unhappy end his men flung down their pikes and showed their empty hands in token of surrender; in another moment those pilgrims who still showed fight were cut down, and so we won small honor in this unequal struggle.

Andy said, “Our last moment has come. The rules of war require resistance only while the least chance of success remains. Let us not kick against the pricks, but rather die, if need be, like meek Christians.”

To the last Brother Jehan assailed the infidels with his copper crucifix, but they never gave themselves the trouble of striking him. One of them simply snatched the crucifix and threw it into the sea, which so enraged the monk that he hurled himself at the man and attacked him with nails and teeth until a kick in the belly sent him rolling and howling on the deck. Andy and I allowed ourselves to be thrust in among the other prisoners, while the pirates poured all over the ship. Their easy victory had put them in a good humor, and at first they showed us no great hostility. But when they discovered that we carried no valuable cargo, they shook their fists at us and uttered threats in every language under the sun. To my amazement I noticed that they were neither Africans nor Turks, and that despite their turbans the greater number were Italians and Spaniards.

These cruel men belabored us with their fists, spat upon us, and tore off our clothes, leaving no more than a rag to cover us. They snapped up our purses and with practiced fingers felt each garment for any jewels or coins that might have been stitched into its lining. But at that moment I cared nothing for my lost possessions, and feared only for my life. Such valuables as they found they threw onto a piece of cloth spread upon the deck.

When they had made an end of this vile work, there appeared among them a dark-skinned man whose large turban was adorned with a bunch of feathers. His silk coat was heavy with silver brocade, and in his hand he carried a curved blade whose hilt was set with dark jewels. Seeing him, our robbed and denuded seamen began eagerly striking their chests and displaying their muscles, but he never so much as glanced at them. His subordinates showed him the negligible spoils, and at a nod from him began to run along our ranks, pinching our muscles and inspecting our teeth, and rapidly weeding out the weak and infirm among us. At this I was even more dismayed, and asked what it could mean, since we had already surrendered. The sailors answered, “Pray that we may find favor in their eyes. They pick out those who are fit to pull an oar, and the rest they kill.”

I was seized by such overmastering fear that my tongue swelled in my mouth and I could not even stammer. But just then these cruel men dragged Giulia forward, laughing and shouting because she had my dog Rael in her arms. The dog snarled, showed his teeth, and snapped at them valiantly when they teased him, and they were surprised that so small a dog could display such fury.

The sight and smell of carnage did nothing to soothe Rael, who was a seasoned warrior. He grew anxious on my account and having caught my scent, struggled so violently in Giulia’s arms that she was forced to release him. He ran straight up to me, jumped about me and licked my hands to show his delight at finding me still alive.

The infidel captain made a gesture of impatience and at once the chattering and laughter ceased; the wailing captives also fell silent, so that sudden and utter stillness reigned. The leader had Giulia brought before him, tore away her veil and first looked upon her with approval. But when he noticed her eyes he started back with a cry, and his men too made horns with their fingers to avert evil.

Even the men of our own ship forgot their plight and pressed forward past their guards, shaking their fists and crying, “Let us throw the woman overboard, for her eyes have led the ship to disaster.”

From this I realized that they had long guessed her secret. But their rage was the best thing that could have befallen her just then, for to show contempt for them the leader of the infidels signed to his men to take Giulia to the round-topped tent on the quarterdeck of the pirate vessel. I felt deeply relieved, although I suspected that only violence and slavery awaited her.

Once more the haughty commander raised his hand, and a gigantic coal-black slave stepped forward, naked to the waist and carrying a flashing scimitar. His master pointed to the aged and feeble, who had already fallen to their knees, and then turned his back. He surveyed the rest of us disdainfully while the black headsman approached the pilgrims and, ignoring their terrified cries, swept their heads from their shoulders.

At the sight of these heads rolling over the deck, and the blood spurting from the bodies, the last of my strength left me and I sank to my knees with my arms about my dog’s neck. Andy stood in front of me, feet apart, but when the infidels had patted him on the thigh, impressed by his powerful frame, they smiled at him and bade him step to one side. Thus I lost my only support, and since I had continually hidden behind the backs of others, I was the last to be inspected. They dragged me impatiently to my feet, and pinched me with looks of contempt. I was still emaciated from the plague, and as a scholar I could naturally not compete in bodily strength with seasoned mariners. The commander lifted his hand in dismissal and my guards forced me to my knees, that the Negro might strike off my head, too.

When Andy saw what was about to happen, he stepped coolly forward, unhindered. The terrible Negro paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but then as he raised the weapon to behead me he was seized round the body by Andy and flung sword and all into the sea.

So astounding was this spectacle that for a time even the pirates stood gaping. Then their proud leader burst out laughing, and his followers too slapped their knees and howled with delight. No one lifted a finger against Andy. But Andy was not laughing; his face seemed carved from wood as he surveyed me with his round gray eyes and said, “I don’t care to be spared, Michael. Let us die together like good Christians. For together we have been through many hard trials. Perhaps, because of our good intentions, God will forgive us our sins. We will hope for the best, for it’s all we can do.”

Tears rose to my eyes at the greatness and courage of his action, but I said, “Andy, Andy, you’re a good brother to me, but you have no sense. And now I see that you’re even simpler than I thought. Stop behaving like a fool, and be happy. In heaven I shall pray that your enslavement among the infidels may not be too grievous.”

Nevertheless as I spoke I trembled, and my heart was not in my words. Heaven seemed farther from me than ever in my life before, and I would have exchanged my place in it for a moldy crust, so long as I might be allowed to eat it. I wept still more bitterly, and cried aloud, like the holy father of the church, “Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.” It should be accounted to me for merit that I spoke in Latin, and thus did nothing to weaken Andy’s simple faith. This was the most anguished prayer that ever rose from my heart, but God in His heaven gave no ear to it. Instead, the frightful Negro clambered over the side, dripping wet, with the scimitar between his teeth. Once firmly on the deck he bellowed like an angry bull, and with rolling eyes charged straight at Andy and would have slain him, had not the pirate captain given a sharp order. His men hastened obediently to Andy’s defense and the Negro was forced to halt, quivering with impotent rage. To give vent to this he raised his sword to cut off
my
defenseless head. But at this most decisive moment of my life there came to me the words which the crooked-nosed man had taught me, and I croaked,
“Bismittah—irrahman—irrahim.”
 

The cry sounded so convincing that the headsman was astonished, and lowered his blade. I saw nothing funny in this, but the wicked freebooters burst out laughing again while their captain came forward to me smiling, and addressed me in Arabic. I could only shake my head, but my dog was more intelligent, and hurried respectfully forward, wagged his tail, rose and stood unfalteringly on his hind legs, and looked from the captain to me and back again repeatedly. The haughty man bent down, lifted the dog into his arms and began to scratch him in friendly fashion behind the ears.

His men still tittered, but gravely their captain silenced them with the words,
“Allah a\bar.”
Then turning to me he asked in passable Italian, “Are you a Moslem, that you call upon the name of Allah, the Compassionate?”
 

I asked, “What is a Moslem?”

He answered, “A Moslem is one who submits to the will of God.”

I said, “And should not I submit to the will of God?”

He regarded me mildly. “If you will take the turban and be converted to the true faith Allah is indeed compassionate and I will not have you slain, though as a prisoner of war you will become my slave according to the Law of the Prophet, blessed be his name.”

At this I could only repeat, “Blessed be his name,” so deep was the relief I felt when I knew I might still draw breath under the open sky, and eat my bread. But Brother Jehan gripped me by the back of the neck, and overwhelming me with frightful curses he struck me and cried, “Viper! Worse than viper if you forsake the Christian faith to save your miserable life. Renegade! Devil’s spawn! You will
suffer
hell fire for this. Your other sins are atoned for by the blood of Christ, but this is a sin against the Holy Ghost, without pardon, and neither in heaven nor earth shall you find grace.”
 

This, and more that was much worse, did that malevolent monk pour out over me, until Captain Torgut—for it was indeed Torgut- reis—had had enough. He nodded. The Negro raised his sword exultantly and at one stroke swept off Brother Jehan’s head so that it rolled upon the deck, its mouth yet wide with curses. I could not see in this a very pious death, though no doubt by virtue of his faith he won the glorious martyrs’ crown. Be this as it may, I felt profound relief at the sudden cessation of his shrieks, for his atrocious imprecations had set me quaking from head to foot.

When once the merciless Negro had resumed his task, he worked off his fury on the humble pilgrims so rapidly that one head had hardly thudded on the deck before the next was flying to join- it. But Captain Torgut took no interest in this melancholy business, and turned his back, still holding my dog in his arms. I followed closely at his heels, but Andy, with a shake of his head, asked, “Have you truly resolved to follow the Prophet, Michael? Have you had time to give the matter serious thought?”

But I would not allow Andy to be my preceptor, and I had had enough unpleasantness from Brother Jehan. So I replied coldly, “In my Father’s house are many mansions. Even the holy aposde Peter denied his Lord three times before the cock crew. Don’t set yourself up for a better man than he was, but humbly accept our common destiny and take the turban.”