‘You are from the Caribees?’ he asked.
‘From the Main, the Miskito coast,’ replied Dan. ‘My people are Miskito, and we have no love for the Spanish who would take our lands. My father, who is a great man among us, sent me on a mission to the King of the English. I was to request that the Miskito become his subjects and, in return, he would supply us with guns to fight off the Spanish. It was my bad fortune to be captured by the Spanish even before I left the Main, and they put me on a ship for Spain to show me off to the people. But their ship was taken by corsairs, and I have finished up here.’
‘How long ago was that?’
‘I’ve been here for six months now, and it was lucky for you that I was not at work today. I paid another gileffo to a more honest kaporal, and he arranged it. Here, let me carry your blanket. You need a proper place to put your things.’
Dan led Hector along the balcony, explaining that the bagnio was ruled by a senior Turk known as the guardian bashaw. Under him were his lieutenants, the assistant bashaws, and below them came the kaporals. ‘Most of the kaporals are all right provided you pay them a few coins,’ Dan stated. ‘Not like Emilio who gave you trouble. He blackmails young men. Threatens to have them punished under false charges unless they agree to be his lovers. He and the aga di baston – that’s the Turk in charge of beatings – have the same tastes. They both enjoy man love, and there are no women in the bagnio, only men.’
‘But Emilio is not a Turkish name,’ said Hector.
‘The kaporals are not Turks. They are from other countries. Emilio is from some place in Italy, but there are also kaporals from France and Spain, from all over. They are rinigatos, men who have taken the turban, and now have an easier life. You’ll find rinigatos everywhere. One has even become the guardian bashaw in another bagnio. A man like Emilio will never go back to Italy. He has too good a time here.’
They had reached another dormitory farther along the balcony. It was arranged in much the same way with tiers of closely packed bunks.
‘All the bunks are already taken,’ explained Dan, ‘but there’s enough room to sling a hammock in this space next to my bunk. Tomorrow I’ll get hold of some cords and rope. We Miskito use hammocks when we go on hunting trips in the forest so it will be no trouble to make you one. For now you can borrow my straw mattress and sleep on the floor. I’ll fix things up with the dormitory kaporal later.’
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ said Hector. ‘Everything around here seems so strange and brutal.’
Dan shrugged. ‘In my country we are taught to work together when life is hard, and to share what we have. I would offer you some food, but I have nothing left over, and the next rations will not be issued until tomorrow.’
Hector realised that he had not eaten all day and was very hungry.
‘The bagnio ration is not much,’ Dan added. ‘Just a hunk of black bread, and often that is mouldy. You want to stick close to whoever is your gang leader. He’ll be given a bowl of vinegar with maybe a few drops of olive oil sprinkled in it. You can dip your bread into the bowl during the meal breaks.’
‘Will you be there too?’
‘No,’ said Dan. ‘I live in the bagnio because my master has not enough accommodation for his slaves. He pays a weekly fee to the guardian bashaw to house me. I work as a gardener. I look after my master’s masseries outside the city wall, weeding, cultivating, harvesting, all that sort of thing. I go there each morning after roll call. That’s where I’ll be able to steal the cord for your hammock, from one of his work sheds.’
‘So what will I be doing?’
Dan glanced down at Hector’s ankle with its iron ring. ‘You are a public slave, so you’ll do whatever the scrivano assigns you to. It may be in the stone quarries or down at the harbour unloading boats. They’ll tell you in the morning.’
‘All these words you use, “scrivano”, “masserie”, and the others, they seem strange yet familiar. What do they mean?’
‘That’s our bagnio language. A scrivano is a scribe, and a masserie is a garden,’ said Dan. ‘You must learn the language fast if you are to get by in here. On the work gangs all the commands are given in that tongue – we call it lingua franca, though that seems odd because most of it is Spanish not French. Even the Turks use it when they are speaking with the Moors who don’t understand Turkish. There are so many different peoples held in the bagnio, all with their own languages, that we must have a way of understanding one another.’
‘My mother was from Spain,’ said Hector, ‘and she taught me and my sister to speak her language.’
‘Then you are fortunate,’ commented Dan. ‘Some prisoners seem never to learn to speak the lingua franca – the moskovits, for example, who come from the northern lands. They are always apart, and I feel doubly sorry for them because there is never any chance that they will be free. No one in their own country sends money to pay for their release. Some other countries send priests with chests of coin to purchase the liberty of their countrymen. The French do that, and the Spanish also. But their priests often quarrel.’
‘What about the English? Do they buy back their people?’
‘I don’t know for sure. There’s a rumour that this will happen soon, when the King in London has enough money to spend on his subjects. If that happens I will continue my journey and bring greetings to the King of England from the Miskito.’
Hector could no longer hold back the question that had been tormenting him since he landed.
‘Dan, you said that there are only men in the bagnio. What happens to women who are captured by the corsairs? Where do they go?’
The Miskito heard the anguish in Hector’s voice.
‘Why do you ask? Do you know a woman who was captured? Your wife, perhaps?’
‘My sister, Elizabeth. She was taken at the same time as myself, but placed on another ship, and she did not arrive here in Algiers.’
‘Is Elizabeth beautiful?’
‘My sister’s friends used to say that Elizabeth was bathed in May dew when she was a baby. Where I come from the young women go out at dawn on the first day of May to gather the morning dew and wash their faces with it. They believe the dew makes them beautiful for the coming year.’
‘If she is as lovely as you say,’ answered Dan, ‘then you need have no fears about her safety. The Turks treat their women captives very differently from the men. They never expose the women in public, and they treat them with respect. But they are still prisoners, and if they come from rich or powerful families, the Turks will demand a great ransom for their release.’
‘And what if a woman does not have a rich family?’ Hector asked quietly.
‘Then a good-looking woman will find a place in her owner’s household. Maybe she will be a servant or – and this has happened – she even marries her captor.’ Dan paused. He was wondering how to explain gently that it was far more likely that Elizabeth would become her master’s concubine when a sudden sound of catcalls and jeers came up from the courtyard. ‘Come. The work gangs are returning. There’s more to know if you are to survive in the bagnio.’
The two men returned to the balcony, and Hector looked down into the courtyard to see crowds of slaves pouring into the compound. All of them wore the red slave cap, and most looked gaunt and emaciated. One group was powdered with chalky dust which, Dan explained, showed that they had returned from a day working in the stone quarries. Others had streaks of dried mud on their arms and faces as they had been cleaning out the city sewers. A few slaves headed straight for the arcades, several climbed the stairways towards their dormitories but the majority loitered in the courtyard, gossiping or filling in time. Packs of cards and dice appeared as half a dozen gambling sessions began.