CLEARLY, THE GAME WAS UP.
What exactly about their appearance had tipped off the janissaries was hard to know. But Fallon was sure that the failure to understand the questions put to them didn’t help their cause, and no amount of Senegalese did either. Obviously, Fallon was a white Christian they’d never seen before and that made the janissaries curious, as well. Aja did his best to confuse the situation but in the end they were both roughly rousted up, searched and their weapons taken. Then they were made to walk down the small, steep road through the lower city to the bagnio by the quay and the holding pens that waited there. Well, Fallon thought ruefully, it had been his idea to see the holding pens and now they would.
Just outside the pens was a squat building and it was into a room there that Fallon and Aja were led and told to sit on two wooden chairs. A third chair, behind a wooden table, was empty. Two janissaries remained to guard the prisoners and stood behind them, stoic and silent.
Some minutes passed, then a short, swarthy man in a green caftan and golden turban entered the room from a door on the right, conferred briefly with one of the janissaries and sat at the table opposite the prisoners. A gold necklace hung around his neck and a jeweled cockade was fixed to the front of his turban.
“I am Doruk, and I am in charge of the dey’s prisoners,” he said in lingua franca. “Who are you and what is your business in Algiers, may I ask?”
Fallon considered him carefully and wrestled with how to answer. He was at once afraid to give too much away and, on the other hand, his mind searched for an answer that would free them. In the end, he went for the truth. Well, most of it anyway.
“I am Captain Nicholas Fallon, Captain of the British privateer Rascal, and this is my second mate Ajani. We are British subjects come to arrange a ransom for an American prisoner,” said Fallon. “His name is Wilhelm Visser. Our ship is in Gibraltar because we were attacked by an Algerian corsair once we were through the Strait and had to turn back. In light of the attack we felt it was too dangerous to enter the country as British citizens outright, so we adopted these disguises in order to find Richard O’Brien, whom we were instructed to contact in order to arrange the payment of the ransom. I have a letter of introduction to Mr. O’Brien.” Fallon reached under his tunic and found the letter and handed it to Doruk.
If Doruk was surprised in any way by Fallon’s statement he didn’t show it. He simply studied his two captives closely, eyes going from one to the other. The letter meant nothing to him, not least because he couldn’t read English.
“Where is the ransom money now?” he asked finally, and now his eyes seemed to flicker in anticipation, for if the story of the gold were true it would be most welcome news to Mustapha Pasha.
“It is on our ship in Gibraltar,” said Fallon. “We have only to see Visser alive and be sure our ship can enter the harbor safely with the ransom. Then we can exchange the gold for the prisoner.”
Fallon watched the emotions play out on Doruk’s face. It was a dark face, thinly bearded, pockmarked and oily and Fallon couldn’t imagine anything truthful coming out of his mouth. But he was determined to play the hand out and hope for the best. Really, he knew, he had no other choice.
“British ships are always welcome in Algiers,” said Doruk with all innocence. “Perhaps you are mistaken about the attack. Or perhaps our corsair could not see your flag.”
Here Fallon decided to go on the offensive, this in spite of the fact they were prisoners at the moment.
“There was no mistake,” he said angrily. “We were clearly flying British colors. Janissaries boarded us but we repelled them. Not, however, before they kidnapped one of our ship’s boys. We want him back immediately, as well, or there will be no ransom for Visser. We will take our gold and sail back where we came from.”
That outburst produced a silent stalemate. Fallon hoped his improvised attempt to tie the gold, which Doruk so obviously coveted, to Little Eddy’s release as well as Visser’s would work. Doruk’s face was a mask of oily blankness. There was no recognition of Little Eddy’s capture or signal that Visser was either alive or dead, and Fallon’s fear of failure began to gnaw at him. Aja fidgeted in his chair, as well, aware that suddenly things were at a crux.
“I don’t think you’re going anywhere for a while, Captain Fallon,” said Doruk with a little smile. “You see, I don’t know whether you have gold or not. I don’t even know if you are a real captain. What I do know is that we have two new prisoners who are in Algiers under suspicious circumstances, secretly armed. You have told a very strange story. It may be true or not. But I must consult with Mustapha. He is a wise and beneficent man and will know what to do, and I believe he will want to talk to you himself.”
“Tell me this, then,” Fallon said to Doruk in as insistent a tone as he could muster. “Are Visser and the boy even alive? If they aren’t I swear on my mother’s eyes you will never see a piece of gold.”
Doruk only ignored the question and smiled. Then he rose to leave and had a word with one of the guards, who nodded in understanding.
“Captain, if that is what you are,” he said as he turned back to Fallon, “you will be our guests for a while. Please put any thought of escape out of your head. It is a thin line between brave and foolish, is it not?”
Fallon and Aja were led outside to the holding pens. They were stockade built, open to the sky, in a line like open air cells with wooden poles for bars. Most of the pens seemed empty, or nearly so. Perhaps there had been a recent auction, thought Fallon ruefully. But some prisoners came forward to call to them in a polyglot of languages as they went by, and some of them spoke English. Fallon paused once to ask about Wilhelm Visser and Little Eddy but the janissary behind him pushed him forward roughly.
At last they came to a smaller pen whose gate was quickly unlocked and they were pushed inside. The harsh sun threw a shadow to the back of the cell but the pen appeared empty except for several straw pallets covered with blankets that were on the floor. One of the janissaries reached into a chest outside the cell and produced two more blankets which he threw inside onto the floor. Then the gate was closed and locked with a click that seemed final.
As Fallon and Aja stood adjusting to their new home one of the pallets seemed to move as a prisoner sat up under his blanket and let out a yell.
Little Eddy struggled to stand, sobbing and smiling at the same time.