Midshipman Graham and the Battle of Abukir

by James Boschert

“Alas no. The British ships could not come close enough to support the Turks who were soundly defeated.” Captain Williams shook his head ruefully. “The French are bombarding the fort into rubble. So many fleeing men drowned that the water was red as poppies. It was both tragic and horrible to witness, and the smell, even as we left was beginning to be intolerable,” Williams said. “Sir Sidney had planned to come here and resume the blockade once the battle was won. Despite the setback it will be just as important, so I think he will be here fairly soon,” Williams assured him.

  “You will have a very hard time finding a fishing boat at present. The police are keeping a sharp eye open for runners, almost as keen to stop people leaving as the British are to stop them coming in. So we must await an opportunity, but in the meantime we must figure out how to hide this young man. First things first, however: a bath, then food.” Danush clapped his hands.

  Two young men almost ran into the room and stood respectfully as Danush rattled off some orders in Arabic.

  “Go with them,” he told Duncan. “This one knows some French. His name is Kaylah,” he pointed to the older of the two. “They will help you bathe, and then we will eat.”

  While Williams and Danush continued to talk the two servants beckoned Duncan to follow them. He had a chance to see himself in one of the many mirrors lining the walls of the corridor as they padded along the beautifully tiled floor. What he saw shocked him. Staring back at him was a wild-looking creature whose formerly reddish hair, now that the hood was down, was sticking up in places from a blackened, sweat streaked face with staring blue eyes. He almost jerked back at his own image. To his fevered imagination the figure staring back at him looked as though it had just stepped out of some dark African jungle. He hurried on with his new guides.

  When they came to the baths, a steaming pool surrounded by low alcoves and slim arched pillars, he hesitated. He was expected to undress in front of these two boys? The older, seeing his reluctance, smiled reassuringly. “It is all right, we are here to make you clean, Effendi,” he said and made motions for washing.

  It took some effort to overcome his initial modesty, but finally the lure of hot clean water and the infernal itching of his clothes drove him to discard them and hurriedly climb down into the water. It was hot, but a great comfort. He noticed the second boy take a cane and lift his discarded robe and other clothes onto the end of the stick with a look of disgust on his face, then take them away.

  He began slowly to relax and wallowed happily in the hot water, feeling his cares ease away. That is, until he saw the oldest boy taking off his bisht and stand naked on the side. Suddenly Duncan realized that the boy was bereft of one important item of his anatomy.

  He could not help but stare initially, then averted his eyes, embarrassed, and began to flounder towards the other side of the pool.

  The boy called to him, “I clean you, Effendi.”

  “Oh God!” Duncan groaned, then to add mortification to alarm he heard giggling from behind a curtain on the other side of the room.

  The boy said something and it ceased, but the curtain twitched and Duncan was sure there were females lurking behind it. He went red with embarrassment but realized that he was doomed. He passively accepted the sponging he received from Kaylah, who was efficient and scrubbed him hard all over, although Duncan insisted that he deal with his own nether parts, snatching the sponge out of Kaylah’s hands to do so and turning his back. Unfortunately he now faced the curtain, which twitched, and the giggling began again.

  Casting all discretion to the winds he glowered and grimaced fiercely at the curtain, remembering times in his home in Scotland when modesty was sometimes sacrificed for necessity and his sisters and the maids could see him bathe in a tub down in the warmth of the kitchens. He bared his teeth and rubbed his belly in a more exaggerated manner pretending to look ferocious. This elicited even more giggling and soft peals of laughter, but Kaylah put a stop to it and this time gave a sharp order. The curtain twitched one last time and there was silence.

  Kaylah led Duncan, now dressed in a clean soft bisht of light brown cotton, and left him seated on one of the elegant cushions near to the window. Williams had disappeared somewhere with Danush, but Duncan was not left alone for very long. He couldn’t help it: his mouth began to salivate at the aroma of the dishes that were now brought to him by the second boy who had vanished with his old clothes.

  The boy brought him a bowl of stew with succulent-looking pieces of meat within which Duncan took it to be lamb, with small bubbles of fat drifting around on its surface. Some tasty flat bread accompanied the soup, and he was provided with a wooden spoon. Unable to contain his ravenous appetite, Duncan pounced on the meal and ate with relish, burning his lips in the process. After the awful naval food he had become used to, the taste of this stew was unlike anything he had had since childhood. He devoured the food within minutes under the startled gaze of the two boys.

  “Crikey!” he mumbled to himself as he finished off the last of the soup with a piece of bread. “This is the life!”

  He barely finished the meal before his eyelids began to droop, ready to go to sleep. He’d had almost no sleep the night before, and it had been a day of extraordinary experiences. As though sensing this, the two boy servants helped him to his feet, then led him off to a comfortable bed which he could not remember falling into. They left him there and locked the door before going off and informing Danush of his whereabouts.

  Chapter 22

  Disguise

  Duncan woke early in the morning of the next day to the sound of a peacock screaming outside, and for a moment could not think where he might be. By the sounds emanating from the house the day was well advanced, so he clambered to his feet and went to open the door, but it was locked. He began to panic. Where was Captain Williams? He banged on the door and finally heard footsteps. A key turned and Kaylah opened the door with a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he whispered. “No one is to know you are here.” He carried a tray of fruit and bread with some goat cheese and a small cup of tea.

  Duncan devoured the food, but was restless and uncertain in the company of the servant. At that moment there was a light knock on the door, and Williams and Danush entered the room. Kaylah closed the door firmly behind them and stood with his back to it while the two men looked Duncan over.

  “I hope you slept well, Mister Graham?” Danush asked solicitously.

  Williams was still dressed as before but looked refreshed. “We decided that we would leave you in the care of the servants overnight while we discussed matters,” Williams remarked, as he observed the wreckage of the meal Kaylah had brought to Duncan.

  “You appear to have eaten and slept well. You also appear to be somewhat cleaner,” he remarked drily as he looked Duncan over, who had by now jumped to his feet.

  “We are facing a small dilemma, Williams,” Danush said.

  “How is that?” the captain asked.

  “I had not realized your companion would be so… er... light colored. He will stand out anywhere as he is. Even the slaves from the north do not look as pale as he.”

  “Of course he can’t go outside, if that is what you mean, Danush?” Williams responded, glancing at the now clean and scrubbed midshipman. It was true his red hair and very fair features were a giveaway.

  “His French is passable enough. Where did you learn it?” he enquired of Duncan.

  “At home in Scotland, Sir,” Duncan answered, remembering the long tedious hours of labor accompanied by the sting of the ruler when he failed to pronounce words or decline verbs accurately.

  “Even so, it is not good enough to pass him off as a Frenchman, and he most definitely is not an Arab, neither in shape nor form.” Danush looked at Duncan appraisingly and sucked his teeth.

  “Although we might pass him off as an albino, he would still attract a lot of attention. You see, the French police inspect this building on a regular basis,” he said. “The doctors come to see the women on occasion, but t
he police more frequently to seek all manner of things among them, including deserters or men who have failed to appear on parade. This being a house of pleasure, they automatically assume those kind to be here.” He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “They are sometimes very thorough. I suspect they are also looking for our agents. Monsieur Le Guennet, the Chief of Police, is nobody’s fool.” He let that hang in the air for a moment then continued.

  “We also have a conundrum on our hands. I have many servants downstairs who do not know at this time of your presence, but that could change very quickly. And as you well know, there are women. More than just a few, and we are often very busy in the evening entertaining the French officers and non-commissioned men. However, there is one place they do not search, out of delicacy, you know?”

  They had been speaking French to include the boy in the discussion, but now Danush switched to Arabic and spoke rapidly. Williams blinked and shook his head.

  “Impossible! I couldn’t hear of it!” He even gave a small uncomfortable laugh and looked at Duncan, who didn’t like at all what the look implied.

  “It is our only option,” Danush said, sounding insistent. He was again speaking French, and there was a curious gleam of amusement in his eye.

  “It’s… it’s ridiculous, he’ll never pass it off!” remonstrated Williams, but a smirk was beginning to twitch his mustache. Things sounded ominous to Duncan.

  “Sir, what are you talking about?” he demanded. This discussion obviously concerned him. “What can’t I pass off?” “Danush has this crazed idea that we can hide you here in this… this house of pleasure as a woman,” Williams said, looking as embarrassed as any man could.

  “Oh Lord!” Duncan groaned and grimaced. “You cannot be serious, Sir?” he appealed to his senior officer. Duncan had raised his voice in his mounting agitation which made Captain Williams wave his hand. “Hush not so loud, Graham. Remember where we are!”

  Danush spread his hands wide and shrugged. “It’s the only way!” he said. “In any other guise you will be quickly discovered and then we will all go to the guillotine.” He shot a pleading look at Duncan. “Please, Mister Graham. We were not expecting to have you as our… as our guest. Mr Williams can disappear into the crowd here; he is dark of hair and speaks the Arabic fluently, whereas you!” he shrugged again.

  “You cannot even go out into the street before a French man would become curious and perhaps speak to you, and people will stare at you all the time! If you stay as you are within my house, where there are people in and out all the time, including spies, you will soon be noticed and word will get out. If you are seen by one of these wandering spies it will be all over. You need to be hidden in the women’s quarters.”

  “Oh good grief!” Duncan exclaimed. “How on earth will I manage that?” The prospect of being in the forced company of many women terrified him. Cannon and shot he could endure, but this?

  He sent a horrified look at Williams, but that worthy had made up his mind. “I agree, reluctantly, mind you.” He didn’t sound reluctant enough to Duncan. “But Danush is absolutely right, Graham,” Williams continued. “You have to become a woman and disappear for a couple of days at least.”

  For a very brief moment Duncan contemplated mutiny but the captain seemed to read his mind.

  “Don’t even think about it, Midshipman,” he said sharply. “Anyway who knows, you might even enjoy it!” he gave Duncan a wicked smile. Duncan hated him.

  Danush clapped his hands again and the two eunuch boys appeared like magic. He issued a long list of commands and made them repeat them to him before finally waving his hand in dismissal.

  The boys turned to Duncan and beckoned him to go with them. He could swear that they were smirking as they turned to lead him off yet again into the labyrinth of the building.

  As they left he heard Williams chuckle and say, “The boy is more used to the din of battle than what we are now going to put him through. I hope he survives.”

  He seethed when he heard a return chuckle from Danush. This was going to be awful, he decided, but he put on a brave face and followed the servants.

  They took him along many corridors; some opened onto the verandah overlooking the gardens below while others were gloomy and had many rooms on either side. Overall he could smell the not unpleasant aroma of sandalwood and jasmine flowers. This was without doubt the domain of women.

  Finally they came to a strong-looking door with a servant standing outside who questioned the two boys, who in turn indicated Duncan in rapid-fire Arabic before he reluctantly opened the door and allowed them entrance.

  The room beyond was female territory, the scent in the air alone warned him of that; the hangings, curtains and cushions with young women seated all about told him that he had most certainly arrived in the lion’s den. His courage nearly failed him but a firm hand in the small of his back propelled him into the room.

  Kaylah called out a name and one of the girls — they were all very young women — appeared from behind a curtain where she had been seated with some embroidery and walked towards them. Her body moved sinuously, her whole being suggesting sexuality which Duncan could not fail to notice. He felt his ears beginning to burn.

  Coming to a stop before him she looked right up at him and he looked away guiltily. Something was stirring and he couldn’t control it.

  Kaylah spoke to the girl, in French this time. “The master wants you to take this man and turn him into a woman,” he murmured.

  “I beg your pardon!” she exclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth in amused shock.

  “You heard me!” Kaylah said, his voice rising. “He has to disappear and be here until he can be moved along. No one is to know, other than you girls.” He glowered. “Pain of death, but you will be well rewarded, my sisters. He speaks some French.”

  The girl rolled her large grey eyes. “You are serious, Kaylah? This isn’t one of your nasty little tricks to get us into trouble?”

  Kaylah gave an emphatic shake of his head. “No I am not, and yes, you are to do it at once. We do not wish him to be seen as a man in this house from this time on. His… er... her name is going to be Jasmine. We will be busy tonight, as you know, and he must not be seen as he is. The girl from Cairo is here and the house will be full of the French, as most of them know of her and want to see her, so they will be all over the place along with their cursed spies.”

  “Allah forgive me!” she murmured with an incredulous look on her pretty face. With a shrug of resignation she took Duncan’s hand in her slim one and tugged him deeper into the room.

  “Come along, … Jasmine. You do speak French, do you not?”

  Duncan gave her a mute nod, too embarrassed to even look around him as he was dragged unprotesting her alcove. He didn’t really see the other five girls, who now got to their feet and began to follow them, chattering excitedly all the while. The perfume in the air and proximity of the fresh-smelling girls threatened to overwhelm him and he was sure he was going to faint any minute.

  He glanced back pleadingly to where the two eunuchs had been, but they had vanished like a pair of genies. He was quite alone and assuredly in a lion’s den. He wondered how he was going to live through this.

  “My name is... Leilah. I am from Bulgaria, where I am called another name,” she told him, as she sat him down on the low bed. “You are going to get out of those clothes and do as I say from now on.” Her tone brooked no argument.

  After a quick conference with the other girls, who were eagerly clustered at the entrance, she drew the curtains of the alcove closed in the face of the disappointed females. The chatter, however, continued unabated on the other side.

  “Now ‘urry, Jasmine,” she told him with a cheeky grin. “What is your real name?” she enquired.

  “Duncan,” he croaked.

  Leilah had obviously decided that she was going to make the most of this odd arrangement, no matter what. He stood up and divested himself of the bisht, standing only in his un
derclothes. “All of it, Monsieur Dunkin. Don’ worry, I ’ave seen men before,” she said with a sardonic twist of her full red lips.

  “You ’ave ’ad a bath?” she asked skeptically with a raised eyebrow. He nodded.

  She sized him up and then called something out to the other girls waiting outside. Before long some women’s wear was pushed into the alcove, accompanied by an inquisitive face.

  The girl’s eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of Duncan standing naked. She gave a startled squeak and was rudely pushed back out of sight by Leilah, who then lifted the silk blouse to check the fit, ignoring the excited chatter outside. Once he was dressed she inspected his face thoughtfully. Then she opened the curtains and the other girls crowded in to stare, cooing and chattering like a flock of pigeons. She hushed them and a long conversation ensued, all of it concerning him, as they studied him critically from every angle.

  “You are very light,” Leilah concluded. “But not albino. I am glad. We think we can convert you. The right word, yes?”

  He nodded, too mortified to speak. “‘S’pose so,” he managed.

  They set to work on his face. First they shaved him very carefully, and then came powder that made him sneeze, followed by an intense hour of work.

  Leilah and her colleagues stood back to examine their work with critical eyes. They discussed this and that for a little while longer, making small corrections before they appeared to be satisfied.

  Duncan was made to stand in front of a long mirror where he could see himself. What he saw made him catch his breath. That wasn’t the cocky, freckle-faced young midshipman anymore: it was a woman, slightly busty whose shoulders were somewhat too broad but a woman nonetheless. An auburn blonde colored wig fell in curls to his shoulders — Leilah assured him it was in the latest Cairo style — a long orange and gold skirt fell in pleats to the floor, and his upper body had of a sudden developed a convincing pair of breasts. His eyebrows were almost gone and his lips were a bright red. There was even some darkening color around his eyes which stared back at the mirror with the haunted expression of a prisoner about to go to his execution. He stared for a long time at the image, muttering repeatedly, “Oh my God!”