White Gold

by Giles Milton

  Most of the slave dealers were keen to examine the teeth of their captives. “Their first policy is to look in their mouths,” wrote Okeley, “and a good, strong set of grinders will advance the price considerably.” There was a clear, if disturbing, logic to their interest in teeth: “they [know] that they who have not teeth cannot eat; and that they that cannot eat, cannot work; and they that cannot work, are not for their turn; and they that are not for their turn, are not for their money.”

  Once the slave dealer had satisfied himself that the slave was in good physical shape, he would make an offer. Prices varied enormously and were largely dependent upon the age and fitness of the slave. But family background also played a role, for many dealers bought slaves in the hope that they came from a rich family and could be ransomed for a large sum. Browne records that the common seamen on board his ship changed hands for between £30 and £35, while the two boys “weare sold for £40 apice.” Browne himself was judged to be worth a mere £15—“a very low rate”—although that price rose dramatically during the course of the slave auction. “Some Jews rise me up to 75£,” he wrote, “which was the price my paterone [owner] gave for mee.”

  Captain Pellow and his men feared much the same fate, for they were all too familiar with stories of slaves being bought and sold in Barbary. In the years prior to the capture of the Francis, there had been a flurry of publications written by escaped slaves, and many had enjoyed a wide circulation. William Okeley, Thomas Phelps and Joseph Pitts had all published long and fascinating accounts of their years in slavery, while many other stories circulated in the dockside taverns of the West Country. What the newly captured men probably did not realize was that the great slave market at Salé had become a thing of the past. While the auctions remained a regular fixture in Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli, the Salé market had undergone great changes since Moulay Ismail had acceded to the throne. One of his first acts had been to close the market—not out of charity or human kindness, but because he wished to keep all the slaves for himself. All recently seized men, women and children were taken from Salé to Meknes, where they were presented with all due pomp to their new owner, the sultan of Morocco.

  This is what happened to the survivors captured from the Francis, the George and the Southwark. After four days of misery in Salé’s underground matamores, “we were all, in number fifty-two, taken out thence and sent prisoners to Meknes.” The men were fearful of the long walk, for many had lost their footwear, and their clothes were in tatters. But they were treated unusually well on the 120-mile trek to the imperial capital, “some being put on mules,” wrote Thomas Pellow, “some on asses, and some on horses; on one of which my uncle and I were mounted together.”

  Their journey took them first through the ancient forest of Salé. Thomas Pellow would later remember it as being “plentifully stored with most stately timber trees, of oaks, and vast quantities of wild hogs, lions, tigers [leopards] and many other dangerous creatures.” The forest was so dense that those who were ignorant of its tracks would hesitate to enter; whenever the sultan’s tax collectors came to the region, the local merchants would disappear into the unmapped interior, safe in the knowledge that they would never be found.

  Guided by Captain Hakem and Admiral el-Mediouni, Captain Pellow and his men passed safely through the forest and continued with their odyssey, “all the way lodging in tents, as being in that parts of the country the only habitations.” The local peasant farmers resented the presence of Christians on their land and often made their grievance known. According to Father Dominique Busnot, who had traveled the same road a few years earlier: “as soon as we were gone, they burnt branches of white osiers … and set up great cries, to purify the place.”

  On the second day of their march, the men crossed the River Tiflit and pushed on toward Dar Oumm es-Soltan. By their fourth day on the road, the weary men at last came within sight of the imperial capital of Meknes.

  “At our arrival to the city,” wrote Pellow, “or rather indeed a mile before we reached it, we were commanded to get off our beasts.” All of the men were ordered to take off their shoes, “that is to say, as many of us as had any,” and they were told to put on yellow pumps “which were brought to us by the Moors for that purpose.”

  Hitherto, the men had been reasonably well treated. Captain Hakem and Admiral el-Mediouni hoped to impress the sultan with their latest catch and wanted their captives in the best possible condition. Pellow’s account contains none of the usual complaints about paltry rations and brackish water, nor were his comrades beaten during the forced march to Meknes. But the men knew they were unlikely to meet with friendly treatment once they passed through the city gates, for it was customary for captured Christians to be jostled and even assaulted on entering Meknes.

  As the sun rose spectacularly over the city’s eastern ramparts and the men were led through the principal gate, they were tormented by jeering, hostile Moors. “We were met and surrounded by vast crowds of them,” wrote Pellow, “offering us the most vile insults.” As word of their arrival spread through the souks, more and more people flocked to the city gate in order to mock the hated Christians. They surged toward the frightened captives and tried to beat them with sticks and batons. “They could scarcely be restrained from knocking us on the head,” wrote Pellow, “ … [and] they certainly would have done had not the Emperor’s guards interposed.”

  The guards pushed back some of the rowdiest elements in the mob, but allowed several aggressive men to throw punches and lash out at Captain Pellow and his men. “They would not hinder them from pulling our hair and giving us many severe boxes,” wrote Thomas Pellow, “calling us Caffer Billa Oarosole [kafer billah wa bi er-rasul] which signified in English that we were hereticks and knew neither God nor Mahomet.” After a few terrifying minutes of abuse and violence, the men were whisked inside the imperial palace compound, which the crowd was forbidden to enter. Here, “before we entered, we were obliged to take off our pumps.”

  The captives were relieved that they no longer had to face the baying hordes outside but soon learned that they were about to experience something far more terrifying. That very morning—shortly after eight o’clock—the men were to be ushered into the presence of the sultan.

  Moulay Ismail, the fearsome ruler of Morocco, wished to view his newly captured slaves.

  4

  PELLOW’S TORMENTS

  MOULAY ISMAIL WOKE at the first cock’s crow. He was a light sleeper, easily disturbed by noises outside the palace compound. Thomas Pellow would later note that he was also troubled by terrible dreams. “Whether [this was] from his natural disposition, or the horror of the many murders, exactions and cruelties he had committed on his poor subjects and slaves, I cannot determine.”

  The sultan’s first act on waking was to go to prayer. Once his oblations were complete, he would embark on a daily inspection tour of the building works. These were spread over such a large area that they could not possibly be visited on foot. Moulay Ismail would therefore travel around on horseback, or in the chariot pulled by his wives and eunuchs. According to Pellow, he conducted courtly business while he was doing the rounds of his domain. “He gave audiences to ambassadors, conversed sometimes sitting on the corner of the wall, walked often and sometimes worked.”

  Having grown to love the pomp and trappings of power, Moulay Ismail delighted in the choreographed ritual of courtly life. He was accompanied by a personal bodyguard of twenty or thirty statuesque black slaves. These highly trained guards were armed with polished scimitars and firearms, which were kept drawn and cocked in case any attempt was made on the sultan’s life.

  It was also customary for two young blacks to be posted behind the sultan, one of whom held a parasol over his head to shade him from the sun. The parasol was kept twirling continually, in order to deter flies from settling on his sacred skin. In addition Moulay Ismail was flanked by another phalanx of ceremonial guards, called msakhkharim. These boys, between twelve and fifteen y
ears of age, who had tonsured heads and wore white woolen robes, also served as bodyguards.

  The sultan’s imperial courtiers had learned through experience to treat Moulay Ismail with wary respect and approached with trepidation whenever they were summoned to an audience. “They pull off their shoes,” wrote Pellow, “put on a particular habit they have to denote a slave, and when they approach him [they] fall down and kiss the ground at his horses feet.” Whenever his kaids met him while he was touring the palace, they would immediately fling themselves into the dirt. Trembling with fear, they would remain prostrate until he had disappeared from view.

  They had good reason to be frightened, for the sultan showed great contempt toward his kaids and courtiers. “He treats all that belong to his empire not as free subjects, but as slaves,” wrote the French padre Father Busnot. “[He] thinks himself absolute master of their lives, as well as their fortunes, and to have a right to kill them only for his pleasure, and to sacrifice them to his honour.”

  This particular morning had begun with the usual routine. Moulay Ismail made his customary dawn tour of the palace works, and his courtiers fell to the floor in obeisance. But at some point during his inspection—probably at about seven o’clock—Moulay Ismail was brought news of the arrival of the crews of the Francis, the George and the Southwark. When he heard that they were assembled in the ceremonial parade ground close to the inner walls of the palace, he immediately set off to view them.

  Thomas Pellow and his companions were hungry and frightened as they were lined up inside the imperial compound. They were still dressed in the filthy rags that they had been wearing for many months and had not been able to wash since their desperate swim through the surf. The ill treatment to which they had been subjected on their arrival in Meknes had been a cause of considerable alarm. Now, stripped of their shoes and their dignity, they feared a far worse fate at the hands of the tyrannical sultan.

  The men had been conducted into the palace by Captain Hakem and Admiral el-Mediouni. As they were led through the two inner gateways, they gazed in disbelief at the monumental agglomeration of gilded domes, mosques and pleasure palaces. Meknes palace was heavily fortified and “prodigious strong,” according to Pellow, who estimated that the battlements alone were “twelve feet thick and five stories high.” The first block of palaces was larger than anything the men had ever seen, yet they could clearly see that the site stretched far into the distance. Much was still under construction, and there were scores of half-built walls and towers, which swarmed with a mass of ragged, half-starved humanity.

  The men were led through yet another ceremonial gateway and found themselves in a large processional square. It was here, in the shadow of an exquisitely tiled pavilion, that Moulay Ismail’s black bodyguards were accustomed to march, drill and engage in audacious feats of arms. It was here, too, that the sultan watched tournaments and fantasias, in which his crack horsemen—decked in bejeweled costumes—would chase one another through the dust, firing at targets as they rode.

  Captain Pellow and his men were instructed to form a line in the sun and await the entrance of the sultan. They had heard many rumors about Moulay Ismail, yet nothing could quite prepare them for their first audience. The self-styled Prince of the Faithful and Overcoming in God cut an extraordinary figure, quite different from the copperplate engravings later produced in Europe. With his elfish chin, aquiline nose and spectacular forked beard, he had the air of an Old Testament prophet.

  “His face [was] oval, his cheeks hollow, as well as his eyes, which are black and sparkling.” So wrote the French ambassador Pidou de St. Olon when he met the sultan in the 1690s. He added that his pointed chin looked quite bizarre when set against his plump, fleshy lips.

  On great state occasions, the sultan wrapped himself in fabulous silks and damasks, cutting a most resplendent figure. He liked to wear a voluminous silk turban, which was held in place by a sparkling jewel. His waist-length cloak, too, was quite spectacular, “wrought all over with silver and gold,” according to the British slave Francis Brooks. It was left open at the neck to reveal a baggy undershirt “with sleeves so large that will make any ordinary man a pair of drawers.” Moulay Ismail also wore elegant stockings with a flamboyant design that matched his breeches and bright red riding boots.

  Although the sultan enjoyed the reputation of being a dandy, he did not always dress with such panache. He was notoriously unpredictable and occasionally appeared at the palace works in disheveled rags. When Pidou de St. Olon had first met him, he resembled the unkempt marabouts whose company the sultan so enjoyed. “His face was muffled up in a snuff handkerchief, of a dirty hue, his arms and legs bare, sitting without matt or carpet.” On another occasion, the sultan invited the ambassador to an audience in his stables, “with his clothes and right arm all imbru’d with the blood of two of his chief blacks, whom he had just butcher’d with a knife.”

  Few foreigners realized that the color of the sultan’s clothes was an indicator of his mood and temperament. Father Busnot was the first to remark upon this disturbing feature. “The passion that prevails on him may be seen by the colour of his garments,” he wrote. “Green is his darling colour, which is a good omen for those that come to him.” But if he was wearing yellow, even his closest courtiers prepared themselves for an outburst of violence. “When he wears yellow,” wrote Busnot, “all men quake and avoid his presence; for that is the colour he puts on when he designs soe bloody executions.” Such attention to detail on the part of the sultan provides a chilling insight into the manner of his rule. Fear was his instrument of control, and he terrified his courtiers with capricious outbursts and acts of extreme violence. These appeared random to most European visitors, but Busnot’s observation suggests that every action of the sultan—every word and deed, down to the color of his cloak—was designed to keep total control over his often unruly subjects.

  Moulay Ismail was in fine fettle on this particular morning—the color of his dress is nowhere recorded—and was delighted by the arrival of so many new slaves. Captain Hakem had thrown himself into the dirt when the sultan first entered the parade ground. Now, he was ordered to his feet and greeted warmly by Moulay Ismail. “[He] received us from the hands of the Sallee-teens,” wrote Pellow, “giving Ali Hakem, in exchange for every one of us, fifty ducats.” This was a very low price for the corsairs, about £15 per slave, considerably less than the Salé pirates had been accustomed to receive from dealers in the years before the closure of the great slave market.

  Captain Hakem had enough experience of the wily old sultan to know that any expression of dissatisfaction would be extremely unwise. He also knew that it would be foolish to pocket all of the money. “Out of this was paid back again one-third, and a tenth as customary tribute.” The sultan was satisfied by this display of deference on the part of his corsair captain and turned toward Admiral el-Mediouni, ready to receive the second batch of captives. The admiral stepped forward in order to accept payment for his slaves, but there was something in his demeanor that caused a dramatic change in the sultan’s humor. The British captives were uncertain as to how the admiral managed to offend Moulay Ismail, but what happened next sent a chill through all the men standing in the palace courtyard. The sultan unsheathed his huge sword and swung the polished blade through the air. Admiral el-Mediouni was decapitated on the spot.

  The men were appalled by this gruesome display, and it was only much later that Thomas Pellow was told that the admiral had been executed for failing to attack the British vessel in the waters off the coast of Salé. “For not fighting Delgarno,” wrote Pellow wryly, “[el-Mediouni] had the extraordinary favour bestowed upon him of losing his head.”

  The execution also provided Moulay Ismail with the opportunity to demonstrate his physical prowess. Although he was seventy years old when Captain Pellow and his men first met him, he was as strong and energetic as a young antelope. “Age does not seem to have lessen’d anything either of his courage, strength or act
ivity,” noted Busnot just a few years earlier, “[and] he vaults upon anything he can lay his hand on.” He was always keen to show his dexterity with a sword, and the French padre had been as shocked as the British slaves to discover that “it is one of his common diversions, at one motion, to mount his horse, draw his cimiter, and cut off the head of the slave who holds his stirrup.”

  Moulay Ismail had received a large number of British and colonial American captives over the previous months, but he was nevertheless delighted by this new band of slaves. There were fifty-two in total, including three captains and two boys, and all were in good physical shape. This gave the sultan particular satisfaction, for each of these men represented an additional fifteen hours of hard labor per day.

  He paused as he walked past Thomas Pellow, then ordered him to step to one side. Richard Ferris, James Waller and Thomas Newgent were also instructed to join the young Cornish lad, along with three more whose names Pellow does not record. When the sultan seemed satisfied that he had chosen all that he needed, he instructed his black guards to take away the rest of the slaves. Pellow watched in fear and alarm as his uncle and the others were led out through the palace gateway. It would be several weeks before he received any news of them.