The Way Back Home- Part 1

Villains and Heroes

By Samuel

We tend to plan our lives according to our desires, our personalities, and the influences of our parents, peers, and teachers. However, sadly, there are times when outside influences beyond our control dictate a path we never intended to go down. Such was the case of Pierre Belmont.

It was the year 1710 when, as a strapping young man of just eighteen with a promising life ahead of him, he was abducted by English pirates on the outskirts of the Southern French port of Marseille. His misfortune that day was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was only later able to piece together what had happened. His captor, Captain Lance Jury, was a protégé of the infamous pirate Captain William Kidd. Upon Captain Kidd’s execution, Lance, as his second-in-command, took the leadership role and managed to escape with his crew before the British Navy could apprehend them. To avoid running into British naval vessels, they changed their area of operation from the seas around the British Isles and the northern coastline of France and Belgium to the more adventurous Mediterranean coastlines of Southern Europe, Asia Minor, and the northern coast of Africa.

After putting ample distance between them and the two British naval vessels they had outrun, they made landfall on the coast of Southern France, west of Marseille. There was an overwhelming need to replenish their scant provisions, take on fresh water, and acquire more galley slaves to help with the rowing. Using the maps in the captain’s cabin and his spyglass, Captain Lance brought his ship close to the shoreline, looking for a safe harbour. At last, he saw a bay and steered his ship towards it. At regular intervals, they took water depth readings to avoid running aground. A number of his crew members were at the ship’s bulwark, looking at the shoreline to ensure they could land safely and unannounced. They wasted no time scouring the countryside, pillaging the farming community on the outskirts of Marseille. And so began the “new” lives of Pierre Belmont and eleven other strapping young lads. They had been ripped away from their homes forcibly; some of the senior men in these areas fought back bravely, but as farmers, they were no match for these marauding, hardened sailors.

Upon returning to their ship, the pirates changed its name from the Adventure Galley to the newly agreed-upon Kidd’s Revenge. Some set to work repairing the sails and any other part of the ship that needed rework. The rowing gave the boat extra speed and impetus during calm weather. These twelve boys, now part of the rowing crew, soon learned that they were only relieved of rowing duty for two hours out of every six—four at the oar and two in the bow. The rowers were alternated and well-fed to ensure they stayed in peak condition. Their modus operandi was sailing around the Mediterranean Sea, attacking merchant vessels, relieving them of their merchandise, and on many occasions, slaughtering the personnel of those vessels before setting them alight to burn and sink to the bottom of the ocean. They would land at ports considered friendly for their nefarious business, where they would sell or exchange the merchandise, replenish the ship with necessities, and at times, buy new slaves to serve at the oars. Of the eleven taken into slavery with him, seven had lost their lives. Five had gotten deadly sick and were cast into the ocean to drown, and two wilfully jumped ship to escape the harsh life they now lived. They were part of a contingency of one hundred and twenty slave rowers, with eighty at the oars when necessity demanded.

Pierre, a resourceful young man, never gave up hope and was always on the lookout for an opportunity to escape. It had been three long years as a slave on that ship when his chance came through an unexpected incident. One merchant company, weary of the losses suffered at the hands of pirates, converted one of their ships, the Fair Wind, into a partial naval ship. This vessel still carried a large quantity of merchandise, but well-camouflaged cannons had been installed at mid-deck along both port and starboard sides. The crew members were seasoned naval personnel under the command of Captain Rodrigues, a well-respected and revered ship captain of Latin origin.

Late that faithful afternoon, this vessel, now a wolf in sheep’s clothing, was spotted by Captain Lance’s lookout, and they set a course to intercept. The Fair Wind changed course to sail away from the pirate ship now approaching at a good speed. The pirate ship, the Kidd’s Revenge, had its sails fully unfurled, and the rowers were in high-speed mode to intercept before their prey could use the approaching darkness to escape. Captain Rodrigues gave orders to reduce speed as he wanted to engage the pirates while there was still a good amount of light. The sun was dipping towards the western horizon, ready to close off the daylight. His ploy worked wonderfully, as it was not long before the pirate vessel was positioning itself for its attack strategy. This entailed shipping their oars in and coming alongside their intended prey to board and engage. Normally, this would work like the proverbial dream, but too late, they realized that they had miscalculated. The Fair Wind had uncovered the cannons on its port side, now a mere fifteen metres from the starboard side of the pirate ship. At Captain Rodrigues’s command, the flints on the cannons were lit, and a thunderous volley of cannonballs struck the pirate ship with devastating results. Splintered sections of the pirate ship’s bulwark were blown away, along with a fair number of pirates who were in a state of readiness to board. Damaged but like a wounded animal, the ships still collided, and the able pirates boarded to engage in battle. Both sides were now in close, hand-to-hand combat, with handguns blasting and cutlasses clanging. Amidst the flurry of engagement, screams of pain and curses from the wounded and dying could be heard.

In this confusion and cacophony of hellish noises, Pierre, seated in the inner rowing position, aisle side, saw his opportunity. As the pirate in charge of the rowers was rushing past, he tripped him. As the pirate began to fall, Pierre struck out with a mean roundhouse punch filled with venom and anger, laying the pirate out cold. Pulling the comatose pirate towards him, he relieved him of the bunch of keys and started trying them, one by one, to find the key that would unlock his shackles. This task was made easier as there were only four keys, signifying four lock types. Once free, he handed the bunch of keys to the other rowers, giving them also a chance to unshackle themselves. With all that was now going on, no one noticed this activity.

Quickly taking stock of the situation, Pierre sprang into action. Firstly, he planned to get to the captain’s quarters, situated on deck level, just near the entrance to the rowers’ deck. His quick-witted reasoning demanded he change his garments, arm himself better, and grab anything else he might deem a necessity. Bounding up the steps two at a time, with the cutlass in hand, he was on deck in a matter of seconds. A pirate who had seen him escaping rushed at him and met instant death as Pierre thrust him through the chest with his newly acquired sword. By sheer fortune, he got to the cabin and slipped inside without any further incident. In his mind, his intention was clearly mapped: find a change of clothing and a quick search of the cabin before making his intended escape. The lit lamp hanging in the corner gave ample light, but as he was making his way to the treasure chest he had noted on the far end, he heard a cry for help coming from the bed. Turning in that direction, he saw a young girl tied to the bed, her arms and legs bound by ropes with a customary sailor’s knot. She spoke a dialect of Spanish origin, with which he had some familiarity. In the same language, he explained that he was planning his escape, and she would be a hindrance to him. While this exchange was taking place, he donned one of the captain’s overcoats he had found. Her plea for help finally struck a chord of mercy in his heart, and he sprang across the room and used the cutlass to cut her free. While he was busy breaking the lock on the treasure chest, she rubbed her arms and legs to get the blood flowing again and regain her composure. The moment she was able to move comfortably, she also donned an overcoat to hide her dress and womanly shape. She also armed herself with a cutlass hanging close by. When he questioned her, “What are you going to do with that?” her curt reply was, “Use it if I have to. I have some schooling in sword fights, normally with a rapier.” The captain’s chest contained some documents, a glistening pile of jewellery, and golden coins, besides other items of little interest to him. Scooping up a handful of coins with his free left hand and the cutlass in his right, he deposited the coins in the coat pocket. Changing the sword to his left hand, he grabbed a cluster of jewellery and deposited it into the right side pocket. Seeing a skin water vessel, he indicated for her to grab it as water would be paramount to their survival. Time being of the essence, there was no further need to delay. He told her to follow behind him as they now needed to get on deck, work quickly through the melee, reach the side of the ship, and be prepared to dive overboard as the first part of their escape. Nodding her head in agreement, she followed him onto the deck.

While all this was being played out, fortune seemed to smile upon them as, in the press of bodies and stepping over the wounded and dead, they made it to the side without incident and dived over the bulwark, not a moment too soon, as someone noticed their intent and wanted to prevent its accomplishment. The sea was now filled with drifting pieces of the pirate’s ship, bodies floating, the living ones screaming in agony, and some sharks that had smelled the blood and had gathered to feast.

Darkness was now settling in, and in the scant light, Pierre saw what he was hoping to find—a large chunk of the ship’s side that could be used as a raft to get away from this crazy scenario. It was roughly a section ten feet long by six feet wide. Swimming towards it with the young lady still in tow, he scuttled aboard and assisted her onto their new vessel. Jokingly, in her dialect, he said, “Welcome aboard, fair lady. Not what you may usually be used to, but it is the only one available.” Looking at her, for the first time since they met, a smile spread across her face, and in like manner, she replied, “Thanks for having me aboard your beautiful ship.” He couldn’t help but laugh heartily, his first laugh in a long time. Despite all this banter, he was busy scouring the sea for whatever else they could salvage for the journey ahead, of which they knew not where or for what length of time. They were now truly at the mercy of the elements and an unknown future. They had no idea where they were or even what direction to take, merely hoping that the sea currents would land them on some friendly shore or that they would be rescued by a friendly passing vessel if spotted. A large section of sail he saw was dragged onto their “ship,” plus seven broken oars they could put to use. Some floating bodies were relieved of their garments, knives, cutlasses, and even two unfired guns, useless at the moment as the gunpowder was all wet. It was a long night, shivering in their wet clothes, teeth chattering, and bearing witness to the cold, they huddled together for the tiniest bit of warmth. The breaking of day with the welcoming sun moving up over the eastern horizon was a necessity. Rain would have further dampened their spirits. Their first order of business was proper introductions, since fate had cast them together. “I’m Pierre Belmont, formerly a farmhand on my father’s farm, but recently forcibly employed as a rower on the pirate ship. And you, my dear lady?” “I am Shahrazad Montale. My tale of woe is that I was on another vessel bound for Spain to reunite with my paternal grandfather. Safe passage was paid for and promised, but never really materialized, as we were attacked by the same pirate vessel we escaped from. They had planned to auction me off to some rich person at one of their ‘safe’ ports.”

The sun was now a bright orange orb in the sky, signifying that this was going to be a blistering hot day. Next, they stripped off their coats and laid them out to dry, which did not take long. His pants and shirt, and her garments, dried on their bodies. At this point, seeing the sheepish glances he cast her way, she asked him a direct question, “Are you also a lecherous young man who would use any opportunity to molest me? After all, you are bigger and stronger and a better swordsman than I. Should I be concerned?” Glancing at her and purposefully looking her up and down with a thin, closed-lips smile, he replied in a quiet, peaceful voice, “You are extremely beautiful and could easily be mistaken for a Greek Goddess. Yes, as you said, it could be the thought line of almost any man, but I’m not one of them. My dear mother, God bless her soul, raised me with a far greater mindset that included treating a lady as such. You, my dear lady, can rest assured that I will not do any such heinous deed.” Gazing at him with eyes peering out through her half-closed eyelashes, she could read the honesty and sincerity etched on his face. Continuing, he emphasized his reply by further saying, “If my ladyship wants, I will construct a separate room for you, giving you privacy and protection.” Shaking her head to indicate negativity, he proceeded to pick up one of the knives they had to cut the sail into a seven-foot square, plus cutting strips from the offcuts. He shaped four of the longer oar sections into support poles, keeping the paddle sides as they were and shaving the opposite ends into points. Using the sharpest pointed knife as a digging tool, he marked off the four points where the poles were to be installed as supports for the sail. This would provide shade from the sun and protection from the rain should that happen. She watched him dig the first hole in the raft, ensuring it maintained a diameter to take the oar and support it in a fairly good vertical position. To achieve this, he constantly tried the pole, and when it fitted well without any further depth or size needed, he proceeded to start the second one marked out. She, in turn, found a similar knife and, though not as accomplished as he, started working on the third pole position. Just as he completed the fourth hole, she completed the one she was working on. Both smiled and acknowledged this engineering feat. He next started work on the sail section he had prepared by cutting two holes at each of its four corners. These holes would be for the strips to be used to firmly hold the sail section in position to create the covering, which they had now carved to protect themselves from the fierce mid-morning sun. The water they had, they took sips of sparingly, not knowing how or when it could be replenished. He attached a knife to one of the remaining oars, again using the sail strips to keep it attached. This would be his fishing spear; they needed nourishment. Inquisitive fish were seen regularly coming alongside what they now lovingly named “our floating palace.” Late in the afternoon, he was fortunate to spear a fish of an unknown name to them, but large enough for at least a grand meal. He descaled and gutted it, preparing it as he had learned from his father. This brought tears to his eyes, and, hoping she did not see it, he wiped them away quickly. Cutting the fish into thin strips, which he planned to lay out in the sun to par-cook them, he did this for an hour, then poured some seawater over the fish, trusting that the meat would absorb some of the saltiness from the water. This worked wonderfully, and soon they were enjoying their first “dinner date.” Tentatively at first with this method of meal preparation, she devoured it with gusto, even sparing a moment to compliment the chef.

Night fell, and he prepared them for the darkness. Firstly, some of the clothing salvaged was prepared as beds, and the now-dry overcoats were to be used as blankets. To secure them from rolling off the raft, he tied their bodies to the raft as a safety precaution. They would also take turns to keep watch. Tired from the day’s activities, she fell into a deep sleep, and only at around the third watch did he wake her up, as he needed to rest as well. Morning came too soon, and as they looked at the horizons in all four directions, neither land nor vessels were seen. It started off in a bit of a gloomy atmosphere, which became worse when suddenly the skies overhead darkened and soon a showering rain beat down on them. Seeing this as an opportunity for fresh water, as a large puddle had developed in the sail covering, he got hold of the pointed knife and stabbed a small hole at the centre point. Watching the water gush through, he grabbed the skin water container and, holding it up, allowed the water to flow into the container. He left the opening so that the water could continue to flow through, not wanting it to develop into a weight that would collapse their top cover. Thankfully, the rain lasted until after noon, allowing the sun to give them respite to dry the wet items and enjoy warmth once again. The curtains drew closed on that day, and as per the previous night’s arrangement, they retired for the night. This time, she took first watch duty, promising to wake him at midnight. “Captain’s log,” he joked to her, “no, this is only as recorded in our memories.” Day three started with him spear fishing as hunger was setting in. As the breadwinner—no, fisherman—he secured for them another decent-sized fish and prepared it similarly. “My lady,” he said, “sorry, but today’s menu is similar to yesterday’s, though I might add, a different type of fish. Do enjoy, compliments of the chef.” With peals of laughter, she kept the conversation going, “If this is all that is served on this ship, pray, alas, it will be my last journey with your shipping lines.” She did not have to worry. He had spotted a ship on their eastern horizon, identified by the sun’s positioning, and he was shouting at the top of his voice and waving his arms to gain their attention. Jumping up and steadying herself, she joined him in attempting to gain the attention of the boat that now seemed to grow on its approach to their position. An hour later, they were safely aboard the ship, and she, in tears of joy and relief, found out that this was a sister ship to the one that was to have delivered her to Spain. Many a man knows that life can serve you a cold dish of misfortune and strife, but also, at times, a warm dish of unexpected good fortune. For these two, this is exactly what happened.