‘I know,’ I replied; ‘don’t bother about that; I’m well accustomed to dodging such people.’
‘All right, then, I shan’t worry. God be with you.’
The fat woman in black murmured a few words in Greek, perhaps to tell me she would pray for me before the icon. As I left I saw the three pale-faced girls gazing at me anxiously. The noiseless door opened upon the night, then closed behind me. I was alone in the silence, as if all I had just left were only a dream. The mirror-like lagoon was still there, but the level of the water had gone down a little. I thought that the sea, having shown she was there, faithful and reliable, was now going away.
I went back to Port Tewfik by the last train, thinking over that last warning: ‘Be very careful of the sentinel.’ Bah! Since luck was on my side, why hesitate? Perhaps Stavro was right, everything is written. And in that case –
TWENTY-SEVEN
The Sea-Wall
I had arranged with Djebeli to be at the sea-wall at ten o’clock in the evening, when the moon set. I had allowed plenty of time so as not to have to hurry. The place where the hashish was hidden in the barrel was more than six miles away, and if the weather was calm, all would go well. I could be there and back in four hours. During the day I had minutely inspected this wall – a long rampart of huge rocks thrown in great numbers across the roads, in view of future constructions at present held up by the war. I had to engrave every detail on my memory, for in the darkness I should not be able to distinguish anything clearly.
At five o’clock I embarked in the pirogue with Abdi, Ali Omar and a Dankali to go and fetch the twelve sample sacks. We gradually worked away from the Fat-el-Rahman, pretending to be fishing, so as not to attract attention. The north wind blew more strongly, and when we were far enough off to be invisible from Port Tewfik, we dropped all pretence, and made straight for our objective. The houri, driven by three paddles, flew before the wind. Little by little the sea got rough, but as we were going with the swell that did not bother us. Night came down too quickly for my taste, for I should have liked to arrive in the neighbourhood of the barrel before it was completely dark. I was afraid I might have some trouble finding it on this monotonous stretch of sand.
The outside lighthouse of Port Tewfik was my first guiding-mark for approaching the coast near our warehouse. The rising tide took us much farther in than the last time, but at last the keel of the pirogue scraped against the sand. We left her there and set off on foot up to mid-thighs in water. The moon was almost new, and shone faintly, casting light shadows before us. The sandy desert stretched as far as the eye could reach. I recognized the nature of the soil in which I had left my sacks, but I could see nothing which resembled a barrel. Ali Omar, who, like most natives, had an instinctive sense of direction, assured me we were much too far south, so we returned towards Suez along the edge of the water. Suddenly Abdi stopped, dropped on all fours and calling to us, pointed out fresh footprints in the moist sand. When one is engaged in this sort of nocturnal excursion, the least thing assumes an alarming importance, and immediately my imagination was off at the gallop. These were not footprints left by us on the former occasion, for we had never walked in this direction. I concluded that fishers came here. After all, what more natural? We were no longer in deserted regions far from the habitations of men. A footprint on the sand was nothing to worry about.
The sight of a black object looming up before us made us drop sharply flat on our faces. We watched for a minute. It looked like a man crouching, absolutely still. It was probably the barrel, and I was tempted to spring up and make sure, but I was kept back by fear of the consequences if it were a man. If it were a local fisherman and he saw us, he would recognize us as strangers, and our nocturnal excursion would become a subject for gossip in the native cafés and we should fall under suspicion. So I left my men lying there, and walked openly along the shore so as to pass within about twenty yards of the black object. I should thus see what it was: if a man hailed me, I should answer his greeting and walk calmly on. I soon saw how unnecessary and ridiculous all our alarm was. It was simply the barrel, which looked odd in the moonlight, because of the curious shadows cast by the faint glow.
We ran up. Nothing moved; everything was as we had left it, but the mysterious footprints stopped there. I broke into a cold sweat; I was convinced for twenty seconds that we had been seen from the lighthouse, and that someone had searched for and found our hiding-place. When my groping hands encountered the little sacks, I felt that a miracle had taken place, so sure had I been that they were gone. I had put them almost openly into the barrel, barely covered with a thin layer of sand. This was what had been the saving of them, for it was obvious that someone had come and searched all the sand round about; the traces were very clear. How true it is that the most obvious hiding-places are the best.
I drew out the sacks; there were only ten. In vain I ran my fingers through the sand in the barrel. I was sure I had put in twelve, and Ali Omar declared that he had counted them also, and that there had been a dozen. So the hiding-place was not so good after all; it had been found, but the thief had only taken two sacks, doubtless meaning to come back for the rest. I was very upset. This discovery depressed me to an unreasonable extent. Ali Omar was wrong, perhaps, but it was not the moment for conjectures. We put the flat cakes into three india-rubber bags which Djebeli had given me to protect the hashish against the risks of a nocturnal transport in a small boat, then with a certain satisfaction we got into the pirogue and faded into the night.
There was a head wind now, and as we were going against the swell it was not so pleasant. We had to collect in the stern so as not to ship water. In spite of this precaution, I had to bale all the time. I blessed the india-rubber bags. However, as we got into the middle of the roads, the waves became higher and the wind more violent. For a ship of ordinary size it would have been just a ripple, but for our slender pirogue, overloaded as she was, it was worse than really bad weather. The Dankali in front of me had to stop paddling to help me to bale. In spite of our efforts, the houri was half-full of water, and of course the heavier she got the more water she shipped. We should never arrive, I thought despairingly.
Twice a wave broke over the prow and filled the pirogue. We all jumped into the sea in order to empty it by swinging it to and fro. The india-rubber sacks had been washed overboard; luckily they floated, but they were already some distance off when Abdi managed to seize them. We re-embarked, all except Abdi.
‘Go without me,’ he said; ‘I’ll swim back: the pirogue is overloaded as it is.’
So saying, he gave us an energetic push off, and dived to prevent any argument. He vanished into the darkness. For a time we could hear him singing what I called Abdi’s song, the only one he knew and which he carolled in the most critical situations with the carefree joy of a house-painter sitting on his scaffolding. Then his voice was lost in the growl of the sea roused to fury by the wind. The pirogue, being lighter now, kept on her way more steadily. We shipped less water, and the red lantern of the lighthouse grew farther away from our stern, while the first steamers loomed up under the double stars of their harbour lights.
I was perishing with cold, I shivered violently and my teeth were chattering, but I did my best to paddle. At last the sea grew a little calmer as we approached the end of the roads. After wandering about a bit, we made out the sea-wall, which the town lights in the background made even more difficult to see. I rounded the end of it a good distance away. One man paddled while Ali Omar and I lay flat peering over the side trying to make out the form of a sentinel on the black reptile. When we were a hundred yards from it and directly opposite the point where Djebeli should be waiting, we advanced at right angles. Thus we were only a pin-point on the water, but even that seemed to me too much.
Suddenly we saw a little red glow giving intermittent flickers in the shadow of the wall. It looked like a lighted cigarette, and I guessed it was Djebeli. We advanced more quickly, for the light seemed to beck
on to us. When we were twenty yards from the wall, a white form rose up, and I recognized the guellabia of Djebeli. Without a word we handed over the rubber bags. He pointed to the end of the jetty and whispered rapidly:
‘Be careful, there is an askari there. Go right out and don’t answer if you are hailed. It doesn’t matter about me, I know him.’
But no voice came out of the darkness, and at one o’clock in the morning I was back on my boutre. Abdi was not there. His absence completely spoiled any pleasure I felt at the success of this first attempt to deliver my cargo. When I thought that in a swift pirogue we had taken three hours to cover the distance, I wondered what the poor fellow would do, with only his own strength to rely on. Not one of the crew was able to sleep; we all anxiously watched this black water and stared into the darkness, lit up intermittently by red and green flashes of light from the fire-buoys. Big steamers passed, going into and coming out of the canal, swift launches set us rocking at their passage, but though the wind fell as dawn approached, the sea did not give up Abdi.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Stavro and I Cross Swords
Even my coffee had a bitter taste, and the splendour of the rising sun, which spread a carpet of gold and rose over mountains and desert, seemed a cruel mockery, jeering at the pain and sadness in my heart. The sun was now entirely above the horizon, and the sea stretched calm and shining, without the slightest ripple to break its surface, much less anything that might be the head of a swimmer. All the same, I could not believe that Abdi had met such a stupid death. Abdi drowned! It was too absurd. He had once stayed in the water for fifty-six hours, and had not seemed to find that very extraordinary. We kept cheering each other up by pointing out how likely it was that he would reappear, and the various daily occupations on board and the busy life in the roads took our minds off our anxiety.
I told myself firmly that until the following evening there was no need to begin worrying, and I let it go at that. But that did not prevent my mind from being pervaded by a horrible depression and haunting fear of disaster. When I went to take my siesta I could not sleep, and lay gloomily staring away over the desert quivering with heat, which stretched to the south on the Asiatic shore. It was there, on these monotonous beaches which began opposite us and stretched far beyond the horizon on the other side of the canal, that Abdi had left us the night before. Suddenly I saw a black dot standing out against the yellow sand. I dashed for my glasses. It was difficult to see in the shimmering heat which distorted everything, but I finally made out the silhouette of a man. It was Abdi; I was sure of it. It was impossible to identify him, but something told me it was he. An hour later I could see that I was right. He walked along the shore, stooped, stopped, ran after crabs like a man collecting bait, then when he was on the other side of the canal, opposite us, he glided slowly into the water. From time to time, his head emerged above the surface, then he dived again. A quarter of an hour later he was alongside.
‘It’s quite simple,’ he explained; ‘I couldn’t swim against the wind when you left me, or rather I didn’t want to. I preferred to go ashore and come to Suez on foot. But as I walked along I met three men going south. I lay down in the water until they had passed, then I amused myself by following them at some distance, guided by their footprints. They had not seen me. They stopped at the iron barrel, turned up the sand all round it, pulled it out, turned it upside down, then went on towards the south.’
Abdi agreed with me that our sacks had been discovered by the man whose footprints we had seen, but that he had not been able at that moment to carry off the merchandise, so, thinking it was a safe hiding-place, he had left them where they were and come back later with friends. We had preceded them by two short hours. Abdi had lain down behind a sand dune and watched till dawn, but nobody had come back; the three would-be thieves had remained in the south.
I was far from easy in my mind. What if these charming persons hunted about until they found where I had hidden my cargo? I trembled for my cases, for once their existence was suspected, it would be child’s play to find them. All anybody would have to do would be to plunge an iron rod into the sand. In this way they could go over vast stretches in very little time, for the field of investigation was not so great. Only the sandy parts were possible as hiding-places, and there were not many of them. I was thoroughly upset, and wanted to be off at once, but we were in a harbour; we should have to go through a host of formalities before we could leave, and this sudden departure would seem very odd. I thought it best to consult Stavro on what was to be done. He was the only person who could help me. I had to go to his house anyhow that evening to settle up for the hashish already delivered, so I could tell him of my fears.
After dinner I went to Suez. I took Abdi and Ali Omar with me, so that they would know where Stavro’s house was. They followed some distance behind me. The summer twilight lingered in the streets of the native quarter. The heat of the day breathed out from the walls and ground like an immense sigh of relief. The dim light faded softly into night; it was the daily truce from the burning heat of the sun. The street which ended in the sea was deserted as far as passers-by were concerned, but it was buzzing with popular life. The lofty many-storied houses showed twinkling lights at their countless windows, behind the climbing plants and the lattices of the wooden balconies. A vague rumour rose into the air, composed of the clattering of dishes, jazz tunes from gramophones, crying children, scolding women, laughter, the coughing of an invalid, the buzzing of a sewing-machine, in a word, the vast symphony, not always harmonious, of a working-class population in shirt-sleeves and slippers, pleased to be home after the day’s work.
A woman’s silhouette appeared on a balcony, and with a graceful gesture threw down a package of rubbish into the street, where it scattered in a musical tinkle of broken glass. At every doorway were men sitting smoking blissfully, astride chairs, inhaling the warm air in which floated a smell of stagnant water. As I got near the end of the street the animation decreased, until it died away completely, leaving the end house deserted, standing tall and silent before the sleeping water of the lagoon. I turned into the side-street and was abruptly swallowed up by its shadows. The same woman with the black handkerchief on her head came to let me in. This time her welcoming smile was almost gay, and she led me at once into the room where the icon kept watch. She addressed me in Greek, then, laughing when she saw I did not understand, she told me in Arabic that Stavro was absent, but would be in presently. My two men were left squatting in the passage.
At last the master of the house arrived. He looked even bigger than before. What a magnificent-looking brigand! He swept off his felt hat with a dramatic gesture, and greeted me in jovial tones. He called his sister-in-law in a terrible ogre’s voice, but she came tranquilly along like one well accustomed to such thunders. Stavro held out to her a tiny package wrapped in tissue paper, which had been completely hidden in his large hand. It contained two little candles as big as my finger which he had bought for the altar of the icon.
I told him Abdi’s story of the men he had seen during the night near our hiding-place. He shook his head as if he were reflecting deeply, but I had the impression that he was embarrassed rather than perplexed.
‘I don’t think there’s much to worry about,’ I said. ‘I expect you know who they were, and I am surprised they haven’t already reported the result of their investigations, like those in the boutre.’
‘Whatever do you mean? Do you think I would be such an ass as to risk having our deal fall through, for the pleasure of double-crossing you? In our business one must be honest and able to give one’s entire and unreserved confidence. Ordinary trading is made up of mutual trickery. The good tradesman is the one who is the most skilful at taking in or in interpreting the terms of a contract to his own advantage, without overstepping the legal limit, playing the game of commercial struggle for which laws were invented.
‘In our case it is quite different. We are outside the law. The only rule in our gam
e is loyalty to one’s given word. Take my word for it, when men feel the necessity for writing down their bargains it is because later on they want to be able to ease their consciences by putting their iniquities down to the score of what is in the contract. Don’t make the mistake of confusing smugglers with those who get their living out of smuggling. I sent away Alexandros because he belongs more or less to the latter category. He’s not a bad fellow, but just a weak-kneed creature who would die of hunger if we did not give him a few crumbs to pick up. Only he lives in this dubious society you have seen adorning the terraces of the cafés. Sometimes we need these wastrels, but we have to be very prudent about how we use them.’
‘I quite agree with you, and I did not mean, and I have never even thought, that you could play me false. But why don’t you tell me what you think about those men prowling round in the dark? You seem to find it quite natural.’
‘Yes, you ran a terrible risk, for if they had found your cargo, what could you have done? Thank your stars you only lost two okes. I’m afraid the place where you have hidden the rest of the goods is not so safe as you thought.’
I couldn’t help thinking that this man had been trying to find where my treasure was, and that perhaps at this moment he knew my secret. I said, smiling:
‘Why don’t you tell me frankly that the two okes were brought to you this morning?’
‘Had you appointed me guardian of your merchandise or given it to me to put away in a safe place?’
‘No, but I came to deal with you for the selling of it.’
‘After asking advice from the electricians in the canal. One of them told me how you had spoken to him about your plans. So all that concerns me is to pay for what you bring me.’
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