by Tim Severin
‘Raise the blind a fraction, Luis, so I can greet my visitors properly,’ said the artilleryman.
With the better light Hector could see that Tavares was dressed in a loose-fitting gown of lightweight material, open at the front to leave his chest bare. Yellow patches showed where the skin had begun to heal, but many areas were still very raw. On his head was a bonnet of white muslin like a nun’s wimple. The side flaps covered his ears and the front projected far enough to shelter his forehead, leaving his face visible. Tavares was dreadfully disfigured. The fleshy part of his nose had been burned away, exposing the twin holes of his nostrils. The damaged skin around his mouth was like yellowed parchment and so tightly stretched that he could not close his lips fully and his teeth were bared. His eyes looked out from small red-rimmed holes. He had lost his eyelids.
He still managed a rictus of a lopsided smile.
‘I apologize for my appearance, and please excuse the dark; my eyes cannot endure too much bright light.’
He made an effort to get up out of the chair, but eased back with a soft hiss of pain.
‘I owe you my life, both of you,’ the artilleryman continued. ‘I’m only sorry that Jacques isn’t here too. Then I can thank all three of those who treated my injuries. Without you I would not have survived.’
Hector waited for him to continue.
‘My son tells me that you’ll be leaving Surat in a few days. I didn’t want you to go without repaying part of the debt I owe you.’ He raised one hand to dab a scrap of soft cloth at his right eye. ‘Luis worries that Annesley will hang you as soon as you’ve completed revaluing the goods stolen from “Exceeding Treasure”. What Annesley did not tell you – and I’m sure it was a deliberate omission – is that he needs to keep you alive because your Captain Avery has vanished. Fancy was last seen at St Mary’s in Madagascar when he called there to dispose of some of his loot. Nothing has been heard of him since, or his crew. That was a couple of months ago.’
Hector shifted uneasily on his feet. He could tell that Tavares was making a great effort to speak normally, pronouncing his words carefully between the ravaged lips.
‘Naturally Avery is being hunted down,’ Tavares said. ‘Here in Surat there’s a price on his head, and I’ve no doubt that an even greater reward is being offered in London. The problem is that no one knows very much about Captain Avery, what he looks like, or where he’s likely to have gone to ground. He’s a man of mystery, a phantom,’ he paused meaningfully, ‘except to those who sailed with him.’
Hector thought back to the day he had last seen Avery. It was the morning when he had transferred from Fancy and gone aboard Tew’s Amity to pilot her out into the Straits of Alexander. So much had happened since then that he had given little thought to Long Ben. He remembered also that Avery, unlike Tew, had never been flamboyant or drawn attention to himself. He had always kept in the background. Hector wondered if this had been Avery’s deliberate policy all along.
‘What about Captain Mayes and the crew of Pearl?’ Jezreel asked.
Tavares’ snort came out as a hollow whistling sound. ‘There were reports of a foreign ship cruising off Goa, three local vessels plundered. But nothing’s been heard in the last month. So if that was Pearl, Captain Mayes has headed home with his plunder.’
Luis had remained standing by the window. He came forward to pick up a water glass from a table and offer his father a drink. Tavares waved him away. ‘Annesley will honour the deal he made. He’ll want both of you in London so that his superiors, the directors of the East India Company, can extract from you any information that will help them catch Avery. It will also show them how astute he has been in reducing the amount of the reparations to be paid to Aurangzeb.’
Hector could see that Tavares was tiring. ‘You should rest,’ he said. ‘Jezreel and I can come back another day.’
There was a slight movement of the bonnet as Tavares shook his head. ‘I’ve left the most important to last. Hector, do you remember Manuj Dosi? He was on Ganj-i-Sawa’i.’
‘The Surati merchant?’ Hector’s voice trailed off as he remembered Jacques describing how quartermaster Gibson had hacked off the finger of the rich merchant, forcing him to reveal where he had hidden his valuables.
Tavares confirmed his fears. ‘Manuj Dosi is back in Surat, minus a finger. He’ll be looking for revenge.’
‘From the moment you set foot in Surat your presence has been maidan gossip,’ Luis added. ‘Manuj Dosi will know you are here.’
Tavares’ anxiety showed in the way he raised his body and half-turned toward his visitors. ‘Manuj Dosi is extremely dangerous. I beg of you, for your own safety, take every precaution while you are in Surat.’
In Hector’s opinion, the artilleryman’s fears were exaggerated but he could see that Tavares was genuinely apprehensive. ‘Jezreel and I will be safe inside the East India Company premises. We’ve plenty to keep us occupied there.’
Tavares was insistent. ‘Manuj Dosi has a very long reach. His cousin, Dayaram, is one of Annesley’s shroffs and will know your every move. Be on your guard and take precautions, even inside the Factory.’
Hector smiled at the suggestion. ‘Jezreel and I are pirates as far as the Chief Factor is concerned. He’ll not allow us to wander around the Factory armed to the teeth.’
‘What about that pistol that Vieira gave you?’ Luis put in. ‘It’s small enough for you to keep hidden.’
‘It’s in my baggage.’
‘With your permission, I’ll bring it here after I’ve seen you safely back to the Factory. My father can check it over, and we’ll find ball and powder. After that, please carry it with you at all times, and loaded.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Hector agreed and, to change the subject, asked Tavares, ‘What will you do when you are back on your feet?’
‘My doctor promises that I’ll be able to return to some sort of active life in another six months.’ Tavares managed another painful smile. ‘Luis has told me about the serapha you received from Her Highness Gaucharara Begum for what you did aboard Ganj-i-Sawa’i. I’ll go to Delhi with Luis and ask for her help. Her influence should get me a job with an old friend of mine with the shutarnal. He’ll appreciate having the services of someone to maintain his “wasps” and the camels won’t mind what my face looks like.’
✻
The air in the small room off the Council Chamber had the sour, musty smell of spilled wine. Hector and Jezreel sat on empty crates that had once held straw-wrapped bottles from Bordeaux. In front of them, an empty barrel had been set on end to form a makeshift table. A single tiny window, high up in the thick wall, let in barely enough light for them to read the inventory of valuables that, according to Aurangzeb’s treasurer, had been looted from Ganj-i-Sawa’i. It ran to five pages.
‘It would help if we had some candles in here,’ Jezreel grumbled.
‘Annesley probably fears we’ll set the place on fire, and the Council’s stock of drink will go up in the blaze,’ said Hector. He was only half-listening as he studied the first sheet of the inventory.
It was the day after their return from visiting Jeronimo Tavares when a visibly annoyed Annesley had told them that they were not to set foot outside the Factory again. ‘I promised not to have you hanged while in Surat,’ was how the Chief Factor had put it, reverting to his usual overbearing manner, ‘but I said nothing about letting you roam free.’
Looking through items on the list from Delhi, Hector understood why the Chief Factor was so keen that he and Jezreel had no further contact outside the Factory walls.
‘It would be an even worse tragedy for the councillors if the maidan traders got to know the contents of this list,’ he observed to Jezreel. ‘If they had any idea what enormous compensation Aurangzeb is demanding, they would shun Annesley, Bendall and the others.’
Jezreel reached forward, selected the next page of the inventory, and began to read out: ‘Carpet from Isfahan, two strand necklace of rose pearls, six elep
hant teeth, one roll cloth of gold twenty-five cubits in length, one roll of the same material of twenty great cubits.’ He looked up. ‘What’s the difference between an ordinary cubit and a great cubit?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Hector admitted. ‘But I’m sure a Surati banyan knows by the time he’s six years old.’
He had found what he was looking for. ‘Do you remember how much each crew member received when the quartermasters were sharing out the prize?’
Jezreel thought for a moment. ‘Twenty coins each – fourteen gold and six silver. But there was a good pile of them left over when Dann spotted Gibson palming off the counterfeits on Fancy’s crew. Also there were a couple of chests on deck, still unopened.’
‘An item here claims that Ganj-i-Sawa’i was carrying fifteen thousand mohurs in coin.’ Hector made a quick calculation. ‘If we only saw four or five thousand mohurs in coin – and that’s being generous – it means Delhi is overstating by a factor of three.’
‘Then this whole exercise is a farce. Why don’t we simply divide all the values of the items on the list by three?’
‘That’s not what I’ve in mind,’ Hector told him. ‘Tell me this: what would Baldridge in St Mary’s, or someone like him, pay for a necklace of sapphire and garnets brought to him by a freebooter, knowing that it was looted from the Great Mogul’s own ship?’
‘A quarter of the true value, if he’s lucky; a fifth if it’s something that can be easily traced.’
‘That’s how we decide the value of jewelled daggers, elephants’ teeth, silk brocades, and so forth: it’s the price in gold that Fancy’s crew would get for them.’
‘And how will Annesley justify such reductions when he starts negotiating with Aurangzeb’s treasury?’
‘I’m sure he’ll call them “open market prices”.’
Jezreel gave a snort of laughter. ‘It’s a pity that Jacques and Dufour aren’t here. They’d have a much better idea of what things are worth.’
✻
In the end, it took Hector and Jezreel most of the day to complete their calculations and when they added up the total it still came to over a ton in gold.
‘Fancy’s company must be delighted,’ said Jezreel, getting up and stretching. ‘I wonder where they are now.’
‘Scattered to the four winds, if they’ve any sense,’ said Hector. ‘Avery will have got rid of the ship and advised her company to lie low.’
‘With all that plunder to spend, they will not listen to him, the idiots.’
Both men knew it was true. Many of Fancy’s men would squander their money in a glorious spree, celebrating their luck. The moment they came ashore, there would be raucous drinking, wild extravagance and much boasting as they flaunted their new-found wealth. A swarm of spongers and toadies would descend upon them, as well as shady tavern owners, crooked gamblers, unscrupulous panderers and their whores. Within weeks, they would be penniless. Far worse, they would have attracted the attention of the authorities.
Jezreel rolled his head from side to side to ease his neck muscles. ‘Long Ben’s not going to survive for long with a price on his head. The net will be closing in on him as soon as the first members of his crew are arrested. They’ll talk and the trail will lead to him eventually.’
‘That’s certainly possible,’ Hector admitted. ‘But I’ve a feeling that Avery has his own plans on how to give the authorities the slip.’
Jezreel gave him a quizzical glance. ‘If Tavares is right and the London Directors of the East India Company ask us for information that might lead to his capture, do we cooperate?’
Hector thought carefully before he answered. ‘Avery’s different. He’s not like Tew and certainly not like Mayes, nor those other freebooter captains who gathered at the Straits of Alexander. We’ll just have to wait and see what is required of us.’
He was reluctant to admit to his friend that in some ways he retained his admiration for the astute way in which Avery had conducted his career as a freebooter.
Jezreel spread his hands in a gesture of apology. ‘I know hardly anything about Avery. On Fancy he treated me the same as any other member of the ship’s company, fair but strict. But he seemed to confide in you from time to time. So I’ll go along with whatever you think best.’
Hector stifled a flicker of resentment. He remembered how it was Jezreel in St Mary’s who had first put forward the idea of turning freebooter. Now the big man was shifting onto his shoulders the responsibility of deciding how best to avoid the consequences.
‘Jezreel, it would help me to decide whether or not to cooperate with Annesley’s superiors in London, if I knew what you would do in England if the choice was yours.’
The speed with which Jezreel answered told Hector that he had already thought about his future. ‘I’d go to find my family in Sussex,’ he replied instantly. ‘I expect my parents have passed away, but I have a brother and two sisters. One or other of them could be living on the smallholding where we grew up. I’d see if I could settle down, get farm work.’ He paused, and his eyes clouded over. ‘But that will depend on the manslaughter charges against me.’
Hector made an effort to sound encouraging. ‘Those charges have been gathering dust in a file for years, Jezreel. It’s possible that the family of the dead man has given up trying to get you in front of the courts. And even if they do succeed, a good lawyer would argue that it was a genuine accident, as sometimes happens in a prize fight.’
‘Good lawyers cost good money,’ Jezreel answered glumly just as the door to their makeshift office opened and the Chief Factor came in.
Wordlessly, Hector handed him the revised list of values, and for a long time Annesley stood reading through the pages. Finally, he said, ‘Add a line at the end to state that the values are based on first-hand observation; then both of you sign as witnesses. Tomorrow you can write out three fair copies. I’ll provide you with enough paper and writing materials.’
Placing the list on the makeshift table along with the original inventory, he stood aside so they could leave the room, then he locked the door behind them. They were left to make their own way out of the building and back to the storeroom where they slept.
When the Chief Factor was out of earshot, Jezreel growled, ‘Annesley’s an ungrateful sod. He should get his bookkeepers to make those copies. We’re not his secretaries.’
‘He can’t trust his local staff. They might leak the details of those lists to their merchant friends in Surat. As Luis said, there’s a shroff working here who is related to Manuj Dosi.’
They had emerged into the courtyard as the Factory premises were being made secure for the night. Hector nodded towards the doormen sliding into place the thick wooden bar that would keep the heavy double gate shut until the morning. ‘Perhaps we’ve got something to thank Annesley for; if Tavares is correct about Manuj Dosi being a danger, the Chief Factor is making it very difficult for him to get at us.’
✻
As it turned out, Phillips of the Maynard was the sort of hard-driving captain who, having set a departure date, kept to it. Two days later Annesley informed Hector and Jezreel that he was sending them downriver aboard a lighter taking a consignment of cotton goods that had to reach Swally Hole before Maynard sailed. The lighter was already loading at the steps beside the maidan and would leave that same afternoon on the ebb tide.
It was Bendall who accompanied them to the waterfront. ‘Here, you can make yourselves useful,’ he said to Hector handing him a bamboo tube, some two feet long, both ends capped and sealed. ‘Make sure you give this to Captain Phillips. It contains a copy of that list you prepared, for the Board of Directors in London to consider.’
Jezreel was already aboard the lighter so Hector turned and balanced his way along the narrow sagging gangplank. The vessel was a beamier version of the thoni that Vieira had used during the attempt to rescue Salima from Pearl. Most of the rowing benches had been removed to create a large open space amidships now tightly packed with bales of
calico. A stubby mast was set well forward but there was no sign of a sail. Instead the two thwarts closest to the bows remained as rowing benches. Four oarsmen were already in position, waiting their orders from the helmsman who steered from a small decked area in the stern. He was a typical river man, lean and wiry, wearing only a loincloth and with a dirty cotton turban wound loosely about his head.
The craft was so crammed with cargo that the two passengers had no choice but to sit themselves on the bales of calico.
‘Should be a lot more comfortable than riding an ox cart,’ muttered Jezreel. He placed his rolled bundle of belongings behind him as a cushion so he could sit with his back against the edge of the helmsman’s deck, facing forward. Hector sat down beside him while a teenage lad, the helmsman’s son by the look of him, darted along the stone steps, casting off the mooring lines. The lighter began to drift out into the current and the youngster came scampering nimbly up the gangplank in time to turn and haul it aboard with the help of one of the oarsmen.
Scarcely had the thoni gathered way before there were shouts from the bank. It was Luis. He was thrusting his way between the traders and porters on the maidan, calling out and waving to attract their attention.
‘Put back, please,’ Hector asked, turning round to the helmsman and pointing at Luis. The boatman ignored him so he repeated himself more sharply, ‘Put back!’ When Luis reached the top of the steps he was some twenty yards away. The young man cupped his hands, and called out, ‘I haven’t said goodbye!’ Then he held up a small package and shouted something in a language that the helmsman understood. After another moment’s hesitation, he leaned on the tiller, and the lighter began to slant back towards the shore.
Luis kept pace, half-running, half-walking along the river bank. The ebb tide was beginning to run strongly, and the lighter was carried some distance downstream before it was close enough for him to take a flying leap across the gap.