Corsair by Tim Severin

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