Turgut, when he had received the news, had been both proud and a little anxious. At the time he had been living in the imperial capital and he knew that both his wives would be reluctant to leave. But there was no question of declining the honour. The Sultan’s wish was sacrosanct. So Turgut had rented out the family mansion on the shores of the Bosphorus, packed up his belongings, said goodbye to the other courtiers at court, and sailed for Barbary with his family and his entourage aboard the venerable Izzet Darya.
Of course they had found Algiers very provincial compared to the sophistication of Constantinople. But he and his family had done their best to adapt. He had deliberately skirted around the local politics and tried to set an example to the other captains, to remind them of the old ways. That is why he still dressed in the courtly style, with full pantaloons hanging low, a resplendent waistcoat and an overmantle, and the tall felt hat, decorated with a brooch that he had received personally from the hands of the Sultan of Sultans, Khan of Khans, Commander of the Faithful and Successor of the Prophet of the Lord of the Universe.
He had not intended to buy any slaves at the badestan until the young dark-haired man caught his eye. The youth had a look about him that said he might one day make an astute scrivano as the locals called their scribes, or, if he had been younger, perhaps even a kocek, though Turgut himself had never much time for clever dancing boys and their attractions. So it was on an impulse that he had bought the dark-haired one, and then, having made one purchase, it had seemed only natural to make a second. He bid for the second slave because the man was so obviously a sailor. Turgut could recognise a mariner of whatever nationality, be he Turk or Syrian, Arab or Russian, and Turgut felt he was able to justify his second purchase more easily. Izzet Darya was a rowing galley, but she also carried two enormous triangular sails and she needed capable sail handlers. Moreover, if he was very lucky, the new purchase might even possess shipwright’s skills. That would be a bonus. Good timber was not the only shortage in the Arsenal of Algiers. More than half the workmen in the galley yards were foreigners, many of them slaves, and if the new purchase could cut, shape and fit timber, he would be a useful addition to the boatyard. Turgut would rent his slave out for a daily wage or have the cost of his labour deducted from the final bill for the repairs to Izzet Darya.
Having made his bids, Turgut followed the captives back to the courtyard of the Dey’s palace. Now came the final haggling. It was an auction all over again. Each slave was set up on a block and the bid price, written on the man’s chest, was called out. According to custom the Dey had the right to buy the man at that sum if the original bidder did not increase his offer. Turgut noted the frisson of interest among the spectators when a fat pale-skinned man was pushed up on the block. He was too soft and chubby to be a labourer, and the first price at the badestan was already substantial, 800 pieces of eight in the Spanish money or nearly 1,500 Algerian piastres. Turgut wondered if someone had secretly investigated the man’s value. In the slave trade you had to know what you were doing, particularly if you thought you were buying someone worth a ransom. Then the bidding became hectic, both sides gambling on just how much money might be squeezed out of the infidel’s family and friends. So a common technique when prisoners were first landed was to place among them informers who pretended to be in similar hardship. They befriended the new arrivals and, when they were at their most vulnerable, wormed out personal details – the amount of property they owned at home, the importance of their families, the influence they had with their governments. All was reported back and reflected in the price at the Dey’s auction. On this occasion the fat man was clearly English for it was the English consul’s dragoman who was defending the original bid, and when the Dey’s agent increased the price only by 500 piastres before dropping out, Turgut suspected that the dragoman had already paid a bribe to the Dey to ensure that the fat man was placed in the consul’s care.
Turgut had only a token tussle over the final price for the black-haired young man. The captive looked too slight to be much use as a common labourer and, besides, there was a glut of slaves in the city. So the eventual price of 200 piastres was reasonable enough, as was the fee of 250 pieces of eight which he had to pay for the sailor whose name, according to the auction roster, was Dunton. If the latter proved to be a shipwright then, according to Turgut’s calculations, he would charge the shipyard 6 pieces of eight per month for his labour.
Turgut was leaving the Kasbah, well satisfied with his purchases, when he came face to face with someone he had been trying to avoid for the past few weeks – the khaznadji, the city treasurer. The encounter was unfortunate because Turgut was severely in arrears with his taxes on the value of the plunder that he had earned when his ship was seaworthy. Not that the Captain of Galleys believed the meeting was accidental, because the khaznadji was flanked by two odjaks wearing their regulation red sashes and yatagans, the ceremonial dagger. The odjaks, as Turgut was all too aware, would be formal witnesses to any conversation.
‘I congratulate you, effendi,’ murmured the tax collector after the usual compliments and civilities in the name of the Padishah. ‘I understand that you have purchased two fine slaves. I wish you well of their employ.’
‘I thank you,’ answered Turgut. ‘I shall put them to useful work in due course.’
‘So your ship is to be ready soon?’
The khaznadji knew very well that Izzet Darya would be in dock for at least another month, and that as long as his vessel was out of commission, Turgut Reis had no income and a great many expenses, not least of them the mounting costs of the repairs. Being Captain of Galleys was a great honour, but unfortunately it did not carry a stipend. The plundering cruise, the corso, was the only way for him to make a living, just as it was for his crew. Turgut’s petty officers and free oarsmen – about half the total – had long ago left to join other galleys. His slave oarsmen came from a contractor, and Turgut had been obliged to terminate the agreement prematurely. Unfortunately the disappointed slave contractor was also the khaznadji.
‘Inshallah, my ship will be afloat before long,’ Turgut replied smoothly, deciding it was better that he bought himself some time with a gesture of generosity, though he could ill afford one. ‘Those two slaves, which you admire, perhaps you would do me the honour of accepting one of them on loan. That would give me pleasure.’
The khaznadji lifted his hand in a small graceful gesture, acknowledging the gift. He had what he wanted, compensation for the cancelled hire contract. If the Captain of Galleys went bankrupt, which would surely happen if his antique galley was not repaired in time, the slave would automatically become his property.
Privately the khaznadji despised Turgut. He thought the man was an old fogey who considered himself superior to the Algerines and because the captain came from the Seraglio, the imperial court, he presumed that the young black-haired slave had been purchased for his sexual gratification. It would be amusing to humiliate the captain still further by exposing his handsome young man to abuse.
‘You are too kind. I admire your generosity, and indeed it is a difficult choice. With your permission, I select the dark-haired one. But it would be improper to retain him for my household, so I shall place him to the benefit of the city. I will assign him to the beylik, to do public labour.’
He bowed and moved on, feeling that he had extracted the best possible outcome from the encounter.
ON HIS WAY back home after the awkward meeting with the khaznadji, Turgut Reis knew what he would do to restore his normal good humour. His house was one of the privileges that came with his rank as Captain of Galleys. A four-storey mansion, it was positioned on almost the highest point of the city, with a magnificent view out over the harbour and the sea beyond. To take full advantage of the location, Turgut had caused a garden to be created on the flat roof. His servants had carried up hundreds of baskets of earth and laid out flowerbeds. Sweet-smelling shrubs had been selected and planted, and a dozen trees rooted in large tubs to shade the spot where Turgut liked to sit cross-legged, gazing over the view and listening to the distant sounds of the city spread out below him. Now, reaching the roof garden, he called for his favourite carpet to be brought out. It was an Usak in the old-fashioned Anatolian style and made with the Turkish knot. In Turgut’s opinion the more recent and popular Seraglio designs with their profusion of tulips and hyacinths and roses were much too showy, though he had to admit that the Persian knotting did give them a softer, more velvety surface. But only the Usak carpet with its pattern of repeated stars was the appropriate setting for his most prized possession – the Kitab-i Bahriye.