“You like what you see?” Leilah asked him tentatively, as though hoping to hear some praise for all the hard work she and her companions had expended on him.
“Er… er… I don’t know what to say!” he moaned, wishing he was dead and buried.
“Ye…es, about that voice of yours, and the way you walk. You are not a man now, you understand?” she admonished him. “We all will call you Jasmine now, and you must learn to walk and to talk as we ladies do.”
Chapter 23
Close Encounters
Three days after the debacle on the peninsula, the French army, the British in their ships, and the men still holed up in the fortress witnessed the grand ghastly finale of the battle of Abukir.
The bloated corpses of the drowned soldiers began to rise to the surface between the fort and the vessels, then to drift among the ships still riding at anchor as though appealing to be taken on board again.
The Turkish war-ships and their immense fleet of transports, tenantless now, and without further motive to remain upon the coast of Egypt after the destruction of the fine army they had nourished and supported, spread their sails and fled precipitately from this scene of horror, overwhelmed with grief and despair.
One French officer was to observe later in a letter home:
The dead army of Pasha Mustafa remained behind to bob and drift in the current to slowly and remorselessly come ashore at the very beaches they had left three days before in a renewed invasion of this ill-fated peninsula. An invasion that was unstoppable by the French who had no defense against this horror. As their comrades-in-arms sailed away, the corpses remained swinging back and forth upon the tides, and then began a slow, solemn movement back to the beach whence they had so strangely fled, as though to avenge their wild panic by landing again to renew once more the fierce battle they had just lost.
“They had no fear now of French bayonets, battering cannon, nor musket fire. They were unheralded by drums or the blare of brazen-throated trumpet!—those ghastly battalions, with voiceless lips and weaponless hands, impelled by the tides and the winds, they moved blindly forward with the white breakers upon Abukir's beaches—in long, broken lines and formless masses, advancing and receding, rising and falling, with the restless tides, whose confused jostling cause aimless blows and faint rattle of steel by the scabbards of undrawn sabers still worn in gay-colored sashes, which cease, suddenly, as the wearers drift apart. They made dull, meaningless shocks and strange noises amid the hollow roar of the sea, more terrible than any living tumult of battle—assaults which did not stop with the coming of the hours of darkness, more persistent and determined than those of the bravest columns—careless of repulses, those invincible regiments, reinforced by more corpses with every wave, press onward,—ever press onward!—till they rest in tangled heaps at the foot of those low, sandy heights, yet, only to rot and fester there, beneath the burning rays of an Egyptian mid-summer sun, the prey of the beaks and claws of countless vultures which tear at bloodless lips and sightless eyes!
Conscious of the danger from such an exposure to thousands of corpses, the French troops made every effort, with the enforced help of the Arabs and other natives who had flocked to the scene in hundreds for the sake of plunder, to bury as many of the dead as could be reached during the brief time it was possible to approach or touch them. Corpses were thrown into long trenches hastily hollowed out of the hot, dry sands. But vast numbers of bodies could not be interred, and the horrible stink from decaying flesh and bones would surely poison the waters and shores of Abukir Bay throughout the remainder of that year. No one would want to venture out onto the peninsular for many months. Only vultures and scavenging animals from the desert came to feast. The French army even had to retreat some miles inland to avoid the dreadful stench of death that hovered over the land.
All the while, despite the horror on the shore all around them, the French artillery bombardment of the fort continued unabated, with men in the French army wondering at the awful conditions which must exist in the fort. After eight days there were only about 3000 still alive and they were starving, while many were mad with thirst because they had drunk sea water. At last they could stand it no longer and surrendered, desperate for a swifter death at the hands of their captors than the agony of starvation, even as they dreaded meeting the tortures they had themselves meted out to captured French soldiers.
Captain François of the French army described the scene as the men came out of the fort:
“They came out to offer themselves up to the vengeance of their victors. The son of the Pasha and his lieutenants came out at the head of the Turkish soldiers who looked like ghosts... They threw down their arms that they no longer had the strength to carry, and all of them bowed down, asking for death. But our commanders and soldiers, forgetting their previous hatred of the enemy, felt for them all the compassion and care evoked by their deplorable state. We gave them food and drink. Despite the precautions taken to prevent the illness that comes from eating too much too quickly after having suffered from hunger, three quarters of those 3000 men died of indigestion.”
A final irony!
*****
Unaware of this awful conclusion to the battle on the peninsula, in the House of Paradise Leilah spent the best part of the day working on Duncan’s walk, his voice and his expression. She gave a small frown as he grimaced at the image he was seeing in the mirror.
“Jasmine!” her tone was sharp. “We girls do not distort our faces into expressions like that. You are not a… a gorilla! You must learn... all times you must keep your face smooth. We ’ave spent much time on your not so pretty face and it is a work of art. If you pull a bad face… the powder, it is going to fall off, and then you will ’ave trouble.”
He nodded, afraid to speak; his face felt frozen in place.
“Now speak with high voice and open your eyes… yes, like that!” she applauded him. “Now it looks like you are pleased with someone.”
Duncan saw the scanty eyebrows move up, his blue eyes widen and the corners of his mouth curl upwards in an uncertain smile. He still looked like a frightened animal facing a pack of hounds, but with Leilah’s coaching, accompanied by many an encouraging comment in Arabic from her companions, they began to make some progress.
Soon Leilah pronounced herself and her friends satisfied that at a distance he might pass.
“There is a test you can make to prove our work,” she informed him.
Captain Williams was lounging on the verandah alone, waiting for Danush, when he became aware of a new presence in the room behind him. It was accompanied by the scent of roses, so he assumed it to be a woman and turned.
It was a servant girl who had just entered, carrying a brass tray with small coffee cups and a long-spouted brass jug. She walked a little hesitantly into the room, her long orange dress flowing behind her, and bent over to place the tray on the low table in front of him. He observed that she was auburn-haired under her flimsy veil and a little heavy compared to the slim Arab women he was used to seeing in the house, but was about to dismiss this when realization dawned.
He took a step forward with his hand raised to forestall her departure. “Excuse me,” he said in Arabic without thinking. “Are you...? Is that…?” At that moment the girl looked up and he found himself looking straight into the blue eyes of the young midshipman, who had pushed the veil aside. There was a kind of desperation lurking at the back of his eyes that did not go unnoticed by Williams.
“Dear God!” he said and stepped back a pace with his mouth open. “It really is you, Graham?”
“Yes, Sir, ’fraid it is,” the apparition standing in front of him said in a glum voice.
Williams was not normally at a loss for words. He hurriedly collected his wits and then said, “Whoever did this work is a genius! You look well... er… just like a… a woman! It’s marvelous!”
“It was to be a test. Mademoiselle Leilah sent me in to see what you thought. How long have I to be like thi
s, Sir?”
He noted the pleading in the boy’s voice.
Williams had regained his composure somewhat. “My compliments to the ladies who carried out this work,” he laughed, but then he sobered a little. “As long as it takes, Graham, I’m afraid. There are rumors that the British fleet has sailed from Abukir. I suspect they will pop up outside the harbor in force, and then we will see. Meanwhile, I think you should enjoy the comforts of the house, not too literally of course, it might upset Danush, but for the time being you at least can relax. I have to go out and check the harbor for an opportunity — should there ever be one.”
Captain Williams indeed had work to do. He needed to make contact with some of the other citizens of the city of Alexandria to find out how many soldiers Napoléon had in the country and confirm where most of them were at any given time. Also the defenses of the city would be of interest to the commodore, should an assault be considered.
Danush joined him later in the afternoon over tea. They discussed the tragic situation at Abukir and the pending arrival of the British fleet.
“I would very much like to find out how many soldiers Napoléon has in Egypt and confirm where most of them are at any given time,” he told Danush. “If we can get away that knowledge would be useful to Sir Sydney. I suspect that he would like to gain a foothold in Alexandria with British troops rather than use the Turks,” he added dryly.
Danush nodded agreement. “Despite his reputation the Pasha Mustafa was not a match for Napoléon. The Turks have not had very reliable leaders of late,” he commented. “Général Kléber and that cavalry officer, Général Murat, who I hear captured the Pasha, are superb soldiers. For the moment they are at Abukir, but that will change,” he observed. “Then Napoléon will go back to Cairo, leaving Général Marmont to hold Alexandria on his own, I would assume, but we here will be locked in if the British show up, and that could pose problems for you.”
“No more than if we were roaming the countryside trying to get back to the fleet, I suspect,” Williams said. “I will take a look around the harbor today and see if there is anything there which might help.”
“I presume the boy will stay here?” Danush asked.
Williams laughed. “Oh yes. I was very nearly fooled when I saw him. Those girls of yours have done a marvelous job on him.”
Danush smiled. “Leilah is a good girl. She can keep an eye on him until it’s time to leave.”
“You are going to keep him with the girls?” Williams asked, with an incredulous tone that was almost envious.
Danush laughed. “Yes, where else would you have me put him? The house will be swarming with Frenchmen this evening and some will inevitably wander about where they are not supposed to go.” he paused and looked at the captain.
“I could always place him under guard in the cellar. but that might be considered very poor hospitality, my friend.”
Williams chuckled. “You do what you think best for our safety, Danush.”
Chapter 24
Reconnoiter
Williams made his way into the streets of the city in the early evening after prayers had been called. The city was quieter now, the markets empty and the farmer’s stalls closed. the meat vendors were beginning to stoke their charcoal fires, preparing chicken or goat meat kababs as well as roasted vegetables for the evening crowds who, despite the presence of the French, would be coming out into the streets to enjoy the cool evening breeze coming off the water.
Observing everything he could, especially the presence and numbers of the French garrison, the spy made his way cautiously towards the new harbor.
Williams knew the history of Alexandria well: Pharaohs supplanted by the arrival of the Greeks followed by Rome and then the Byzantines. Now it was the Turks. He didn’t see the presence of the French as being anything but temporary. The various cultures had left their mark on the city’s architecture, especially in the old city that had clustered about the old harbor. The Greeks and Romans had been builders, but the Turks had neglected the city, leaving much in disrepair and ruined. The French, however, were taking on some of the re-construction and the fellaheen were being paid to do the work. The old harbor was now being replaced by the far more spacious ‘New Harbor’, a deeper and wider basin that could accommodate larger war ships.
He arrived at the docks after passing through the ancient archway that gave access to the piers beyond. He moved inconspicuously among the laborers and gawkers along the wide quays, observing the activity and taking mental notes of everything he saw. Where the famous lighthouse of historical fame, the Pharos of Alexandria, had once stood, was now a tall, solid-looking castle called the Citadel of Qaitbay which dominated the entrance to the new harbor. It stood four towers square at the end of a causeway in the general area of the former lighthouse. It also bristled with guns that could rake the harbor as well as the entrance. At its base were even more gun emplacements. Altogether it presented a formidable obstacle to any enemy ship attempting to gain entrance to the harbor.
Nearer to hand Williams observed the long curved border of the new harbor with several French battleships idling at anchor in its spacious pool. There were also merchant ships tied up at the quayside and a small huddle of ships anchored in the middle of the harbor. There was much activity in and around the port itself.
As he stood watching the four French war ships in the harbor basin, wishing he had a glass to look more closely, he heard a command in English. “Get up! You ’ave work to do. Lazy bastards.”
He turned slowly about, in time to see a French soldier pointing his musket at some men who had been crouching at rest in the shade of a building nearby.
He watched as the prisoners scrambled to their feet with the clink of chains and shuffled off towards a merchantman which was just docking about a hundred yards along the pier. Full of curiosity, Williams decided to follow the gang and their two accompanying guards. The prisoners were chained by their ankles in a line set roughly six feet apart; each man held the chain in front of him as he shuffled along the stone pier. They looked tired and ill-fed, their clothes were ragged, but by the way they moved he could tell that they were former sailors — and by his guess, British sailors at that.
Now his curiosity was thoroughly piqued. He had not known there were British prisoners of war here in Alexandria. He joined the people who were passing the slow-moving prisoners, and while a guard was looking another way he sidled up to one of the men.
“Are you British?” he asked in a low voice.
The man began to turn towards him in surprise. “Don’t acknowledge me,” Williams snapped. “Just answer the question,” he commanded.
“Ship’s Master Jones. Off the Monitor, taken four months ago.”
“How many of you?”
“Just us. Who are you?”
“Never mind that. Do you—”
The guard turned back saw Williams walking too close to the prisoners. “What are you doing? Keep away from them, you Arab pig!” he shouted and brandished his musket at the captain, who ducked his head and shambled away.
Williams drifted off. At least the sentry had not seen through his disguise. But just as he left he murmured,, “You here every night?” He got a nod from the prisoner.
Satisfied, he disappeared into the crowd and made his way forward to find an observation point where he could watch them at work.
His mind was moving furiously, but first he needed to find a means of transport. He spent the next four hours watching and observing until it was too dark to see, then made his way back towards the brothel.
Chapter 25
The Dancer
As evening closed in on the city of Alexandria, a different world awoke: that of the night and its dubious population of entertainers, thieves, cut-throats and other nefarious characters who lived for the darkness. The house of pleasure, “The Garden of Paradise,” belonging to Danush and a consortium of pragmatic Greek merchants, opened its doors just as the sun set, and it was not long before
there were discreet knocks on the main entrance, which was located on a more respectable street than the one Williams had used to gain access.
The person or persons who wanted entry would tap on the solid, iron-studded door with wrought iron decorations nailed into its paneling, and a small grate would open. An impassive face with a huge hooked nose would inspect the would-be guests, and if they were acceptable the door would be opened and the visitors allowed entry. If the man at the grill decided he didn’t like the visitors he would deny them access and, if necessary, have two enormous black Nubians chase them off with loud threats. No one wanted to tangle with these two heavyweights.
Those who were allowed in, and this included any officer or a senior NCO, were shown to the spacious seating area where they could purchase a bottle of wine — or something more powerful. Food was offered on an elaborately decorated thick paper menu, although it was very dependent upon what might be available in the market. Alexandria was essentially a blockaded city where food was no longer in plentiful supply, especially delicacies such as beef and pâté, which were desired by the hungry French soldiers, some of whom were prepared to pay well for their luxuries. Nevertheless, this was a house of entertainment and wine was not yet hard to find, although the good wines were very expensive.
Midshipman Graham and the Battle of Abukir Page 18