The Escape Of The Galley-slaves

: The Strange Story Book

In the year 1563 the 'Three Half Moons,' with thirty men on board, set

sail from Portsmouth for the south of Spain, intending to sell their

goods to merchants in the town of Seville, situated on the river

Guadalquivir. The wind was behind them and they had a prosperous voyage

till they neared the Straits of Gibraltar, when eight Turkish ships

suddenly hove in sight, and surrounded the 'Three Half Moons.'



f course, no vessel ever entered the Mediterranean, which in those days

was alive with pirates, without being fully armed, and every man was a

fighter. So when the captain of the 'Three Half Moons' beheld the flag

with the crescent flying at the masthead of each galley, he ordered the

trumpets and drums to be beaten, and served out swords and ammunition to

the crew. This done, John Fox the gunner moved his cannon into position

and sent a shower of bullets at the Turks.



The enemy however either had better artillery or were in greater

practice than the English men, for they loaded at least three times as

quickly, coming up as they did so to closed quarters, so that the crew

were forced to take to their bows. Their aim was deadly and soon many of

the Turks had fallen upon their decks, but again their more rapid firing

told, and soon there were signs that the 'Three Half Moons' was filling

with water from the holes pierced in her side. Then the Turks left their

own galleys and tried to board her before she sank. Bows and cannon were

alike useless now, so the English seized their pikes and swords, and

fought hand to hand till they were overborne by the number of the enemy.

At length they could resist no longer; their weapons were taken from

them, and those who were left alive were sent, as prisoners of war

usually were, to work at the oars of the galley. This was a fate dreaded

by all from nearly the beginnings of history. The unfortunate slaves

were generally chained together on benches in a stifling, dark place,

where they could hardly breathe; their food was scanty and often bad,

and if from exhaustion any man showed symptoms of flagging, an overseer

was at hand to flog him into greater vigour. Should the ship sink, as

often happened, the heavy chains deprived the unhappy slaves of any

chance of escaping death.



* * * * *



It was the custom of the Turks to lay up their galleys during the winter

in a harbour near the town of Alexandria, and to throw all their

prisoners and galley-slaves into gaol, with irons on their legs. The

crew of the 'Three Half Moons' were thrust into dungeons like the rest,

but before very long the captain and the owner of the ship, who had

sailed with them, were ransomed by their friends.



Thankful though they were to be free again, they suffered terrible pain

at leaving their companions to so many and great miseries, and they

could only falter out a few broken words about doing their best to

collect money at home to deliver them also. The prisoners sighed and did

not answer: they knew too well the worth of promises such as these.



Their daily allowance of food in the prison was no greater than it had

been on the galleys, and they were all more than half starved. Yet their

plight would have been even worse than it was, had not John Fox the

gunner possessed unusual skill as a barber, which somehow became known,

and the officials about the gaol and harbour would send for him to shave

them and cut their hair. With the money thus earned, he bought good food

for his mates and himself. After a while, he and certain of his

companions were allowed by the keeper to go out for the day and make

what they could, a regular part of their earnings being paid to the

gaoler. As they were obliged to report themselves at night and always

kept the irons on their legs, there was not much fear of their running

away.



In the winter of 1577, when the crew of the 'Three Half Moons' had

reached the fourteenth year of their captivity, the galleys were

dismantled of their masts and sails, and laid up in harbour till the

spring. The captains and sailors, having nothing more to do, returned to

their own homes; and the prisoners, amounting in all to two hundred and

sixty-eight Christians belonging to sixteen different nations, were

marched back to the prison.



Not far from the harbour was an eating-house kept by one Unticaro, a

Spaniard, who since he had been thirty years a captive without once

attempting to escape was permitted certain privileges. With him, John

Fox had long ago made friends, and it was of this man he now asked

advice as to his best plan of running away, because Fox had determined

that, even if he died for it, he would stay there no longer. Unticaro

had lacked the courage to move on his own account, but fired by Fox,

readily agreed to risk his own life also. Six of the other prisoners

whom they could trust were let into the secret, and they swore they

would stand or fall together.



* * * * *



The first thing to be done was, of course, to get rid of their chains,

so Fox distributed files among them, with orders to have their irons off

their legs by eight o'clock the next night. They had by this time been

imprisoned for so many years, and the gaoler had got so accustomed to

seeing them about, that so long as they were all there when he locked

up, he did not trouble himself further.



On the evening of the following day, January 1, 1578, the six captives

accompanied by John Fox met at Unticaro's eating-house, pretending to be

in high spirits so that nobody who dropped in should guess that anything

serious was on hand. When eight o'clock struck, Fox sent Unticaro to the

master of the harbour, with a message professing to come from one of the

city officials, a friend of the gaolers. Unticaro seems to have

persuaded the gaoler to go with him, and the two set out, injunctions

being given to the warders not to bar the gate till his return, as he

should not be absent long. No sooner had they departed, than the other

men began to search Unticaro's house for the various weapons which he

had hidden there. These all proved to be old, and there was only one

sword among them which Fox took, and, grasping the hilt, he concealed

himself round the corner of the house and awaited the gaoler.



The man was not long in coming, and when he saw the house in total

darkness he instantly suspected that something was the matter. Stepping

back from the door in order to make sure that he might not be taken by

surprise, he perceived Fox standing in the shadow, and cried 'O Fox,

what have I deserved of thee that thou shouldst seek my death?'



'Thou villain!' answered Fox, 'thou hast sucked many a Christian's

blood, and now thou shalt know what thou hast deserved at my hands,' and

he lifted his sword and struck the keeper such a blow that he fell stark

dead to the ground.



Leaving the body, the men went down to the place where the six warders

were waiting.



'Who goes there?' asked one, and Fox replied:



'All friends,' which, says the chronicler, 'when they were in, proved

contrary,' for the prisoners fell upon the gaolers and soon dispatched

them all. Then Fox barred the gate and dragged a gun against it, for he

had work to do inside.



In the gaoler's lodge, which appears to have been empty, they found the

prison keys and a number of weapons much better than those they had

brought with them. There was also a chest containing money which they

would certainly need, if they managed to escape from the town. John Fox,

however, declined to touch any of it, but Unticaro and two others were

not so scrupulous, and stuffed as many golden ducats into their clothes

as they could contrive to stow away. After this was done Fox bade them

follow him into the prison, unlocking the doors with the gaoler's keys,

and slaying the warders in charge. The prisoners, thus set free, were

put by him to different tasks, the greater number being ordered to seize

a galley lying at the prison end of the harbour, while the others

carried down to it the mast and the sails and oars which had been stored

up in the prison. Although most of the warders had been killed, eight

of them had taken refuge in the roof of the prison, and in order to come

at them the conspirators had to place ladders against the walls. The

fighting was hot, and Fox received three shots in his clothes, while

Unticaro and the two men who had taken the ducats were killed outright,

which Fox considered a judgment upon them, for taking what did not

belong to them.



All seemed going well, when a wounded Turk fell outside the prison wall,

and 'made such a lowing' or bellowing, that he was heard by the people

who lived in one or two scattered houses about. They instantly gave the

alarm, and the prisoners fighting for their freedom felt as if the way

of escape was barred to them. For at each end of the harbour was a

fortress, while the city of Alexandria lay behind. Yet, such good use

had the men made of the start they had had in getting ready the galley

that before another ship could put to sea they were all on board, and

had passed in safety the guns of the two forts, gaining the open water.



Once fairly away, they looked back to be sure that none of the Turkish

vessels were likely to catch them up. The shores of the harbour were

black with people, 'in companies like unto swarms of bees, bustling

themselves to dress up the galleys.' But this was not so easy, as the

whole of the fittings were locked up in the town. So the Christians

breathed again, and, falling on their knees, gave thanks for their

deliverance.



But the danger was by no means over, the wind was constantly shifting,

and they did not know how to shape their course; and worse than that,

the few provisions, which in their haste they had been able to bring,

were soon exhausted. In twenty-eight days, eight persons died of

starvation, just before they made the port of Gallipoli in the island of

Candia. Here they were welcomed by the abbot and the monks, who bade

them stay till they were strong again, and thankful the fugitives were

for their rest. After a while they took ship, and reached the harbour of

Taranto in south Italy without further adventure, and there by order of

Fox the galley was sold and the price divided equally among the men.

Together they marched to Naples where they parted, every man going to

his own country, Fox himself journeying to Rome. The Pope granted him a

private interview, and bestowed a large sum of money on him, while the

King of Spain pensioned him on twenty pence a day, which in those times

meant a great deal more than it does now. The Ministers of Queen

Elizabeth were not behind the rest, and, when Fox returned to England in

1579, 'extended to him their liberality to maintain him in his age, to

the great encouragement of all Christians.'