by M. M. Kaye
He had also let it be known that he himself was prepared to pay good prices for selected slaves and had gone as far as to inspect some that had been brought up secretly from the south, and were on their way to Arabia provided that the trader, an Arab from Kilwa, could dodge the ships of the Cape Squadron; too many of which had taken to patrolling those waters.
There had been news, too, of Lieutenant Larrimore and the Daffodil, Dan had apparently intercepted no less than seven slavers during the past few weeks, and having impounded their cargoes, run the dhows into shallow water off Lamu and released the slaves—most of whom, Rory concluded cynically, would probably have been recaptured by some other trader within the next day or so. But the Daffodil‘s assistance could not be counted upon in the matter of discouraging the pirates, for she had drawn off to the southward and was not expected back for some considerable time; and Rory reflected with some annoyance that it was ironic that Dan should remove himself on the only occasion when his presence might have proved a help rather than a hindrance to his, Rory’s, own particular schemes.
It was in Mombasa, in the house of a Persian courtesan, that he heard a rumour that a fleet of pirate dhows had already left the Gulf and was bound for Zanzibar by way of Bunda Abbas, Kishim and Socotra, and so down the coastal waters past Mogadishu and Mombasa—from where they would skirt Pemba and swoop down upon Zanzibar with the northeast Trades at their back. They could be expected within a matter of weeks, depending upon the weather and the chances of trade encountered on the way. Two weeks perhaps, or four—or five? Allah and the masters of the dhows alone knew. But they would come. That at least was sure, for slaves were scarce that year, owing to a great plague that had smitten the tribes in the interior and was decimating the land. Some said that it had begun on the shores of the Red Sea and had crept slowly southward along the caravan routes of the slave traders, while others held that it had been bred somewhere in the unexplored lands that lay behind the Mountains of the Moon, and spreading outward had killed off whole villages, so that a man might travel for a hundred days and find only bones and the bodies of the dead in deserted huts and in the fields that the jungle was already reclaiming.
Rory heard that many slavers who, with their caravans and followers, had left the coast to conduct their habitual raids on the interior had not returned, and no word had come back to tell of what had befallen them. And that it was whispered that the centre of the vast continent was empty of men, and that the great carnivorous cats and all other eaters of carrion had become so bold and savage from gorging on human flesh that neither fire nor muskets could protect one from their attacks.
“Wherefore it is sure,” said his informant—a garrulous Banyan from Cutch who dealt in ivory, hides and spices—“that these Gulf raiders will fall upon Zanzibar this season. For where eke shall they find sufficient slaves for their needs, if it is true that the gods have thought fit to send a plague to slay all the black men and give the great land over to lions and other wild beasts?”
“I too have heard this,” nodded the Persian courtesan. “Though it may be no more than a traveller’s-tale, since I have met none who have seen it with their own eyes, and it is always the other man who has met a man who has heard it told by a third.”
The Banyan smiled thinly, and drawing out a small copper betel-box, prepared himself a wedge of crushed nut wrapped in a leaf, popped it into his mouth and said: “And yet what of Jafar el Yemini? and Hamadam? and Kabindo the Nubian, and a score of others? Slave traders and dealers in gold and ivory, who set out many moons ago and have not returned? If it is a traveller’s-tale, where then are the travellers? Those who have seen it with their own eyes are themselves dead of the plague; of that we may be sure! Presently it will reach the coasts and come to Mombasa; wherefore I myself intend to return to my own country for a time, taking my family with me, though at this season of the year the voyage is long and unpleasant and I am always sick at sea. But one recovers—which is more than can be said of the black cholera!”
The woman looked uneasy and muttered a charm, and the Banyan smiled again, patronizingly, and turning back to Rory said: “But Zanzibar, being an island, will be safe from the sickness, and the town is rich and there are many slaves. These pirates will know that though every slave in Africa were dead there would still be sufficient in Zanzibar to fill their dhows and sell for much money in Persia and Arabia. They will come down upon the Island like an army of locusts, and return filled.”
The Virago had left for Dar-es-Salaam at dawn the next day, where her Captain, having first wasted a certain amount of time ostensibly inspecting the building of the Sultan’s new palace, made a few discreet enquiries among the citizens of the little town, and eventually achieved his object and made the acquaintance of the respected and respectable Hajji Issa-bin-Yusuf.
The Hajji had been both polite and hospitable to the European slave trader whose name and reputation were well known in those parts—as was also his friendship with the new Sultan of Zanzibar—and finding that the Englishman not only spoke both Arabic and Court Persian as though born to them, but could quote from the Persian poets and was as familiar as the Hajji himself with the Koran, he had unbent still further and invited him to stay at his house.
Issa Yusuf’s house lay within easy reach of the new palace and was large and cool and greatly to be preferred to the hot cabin of the Virago, and Rory had enjoyed himself He did not intend to broach the matter of his visit until the acquaintance had ripened to a stage where it became possible to do so without offence, but it was, in point of fact, Issa Yusuf himself who had made the first move. The Hajji had taken his guest on a leisurely torn: of his estate during a break in the rains, and as they rode slowly between the orderly ranks of coconut palms while the earth steamed in the hot sunlight, he said affably and unexpectedly: “Now that there is no one near who can overhear us, perhaps you will tell what it is that His Highness the Sultan—whom may God preserve—requires of me? You are, I think, in some sense his emissary.”
Rory’s brows shot up and he turned in the saddle to regard his host with as much amusement as surprise: “Now how did you know? If that is not an indiscreet question?”
The Hajji laughed silently, his stout shoulders quivering to his repressed mirth. He was fat and elderly and his white beard had been dyed with henna to an improbable shade of scarlet, but one could still see that in his youth he must have been a lean, fiery and dangerous man; and though both leanness and fire had vanished the danger was still there, lurking dormant but by no means dead under the layers of fat and the deceptive affability, and only betraying its presence in an occasional flash of the dark, hooded eyes.
“Few questions are not,” said the Hajji. “Even the one I have asked you may be indiscreet; though if so I must hope that you will make allowances for old age and forgive the discourtesy.”
“There is no discourtesy in truth,” said Rory politely. “I am indeed in some sort an emissary of His Highness of Zanzibar, but the position is delicate. We—he—had heard that you might have friends among certain northern Arab raiders—”
“Traders,” corrected Issa Yusuf blandly.
Rory bowed: “Arab traders, who make a practice of descending on His Highness’s dominions at a time when the northeast Trade Winds guarantee them a swift passage to Zanzibar, and who create a great deal of trouble for His Highness and his subjects.”
“By offering good money for slaves? But that is only business. And good business, surely, for those who sell?”
Rory laughed and said: “Hajji, are we to talk as though we were children and strangers? Or shall we speak truth and get to the heart of the matter?”
Issa Yusuf’s little eyes narrowed for a brief moment, and then he chuckled fatly and said: “They told me you were a bold man and an impatient one.”
“And also, I hope, that I can be patient enough when it suits me.”
“That also. Let us get to the heart of the matter.”
“Good. Your friends, t
hen, though they come ostensibly to purchase slaves and have been known to pay reasonable prices, steal far more than they buy, and of these many are children whose parents raise a great outcry against the Sultan. They also rob and slay, and while their dhows fill the harbour there is no peace in the island and all men go in terror of their lives. That you must know to be true.”
The Hajji shrugged and spread out a fat wrinkled hand in a deprecatory gesture. “I have heard that such things happen. But not that His Highness’s house or the houses or property of any of his family have suffered theft or damage. Or, if I may say so, your own.”
“My own,” said Rory grimly, ‘is adequately defended, and I would not advise anyone to molest it, since they would do so only at great risk to themselves. As for His Highness, he lives by the revenues received from his people, and if the city and the estates suffer loss, then sooner or later that loss is visited upon him. And though his own property and his person may not have been molested by these—traders—it is His Highness who has hitherto been compelled to pay large sums from his private purse to buy them off and persuade them to leave.”
Issa-bin-Yusuf shrugged again and said: “If what I hear is true, they have spent those sums on buying more slaves from His Highness’s loyal subjects, who have never been averse to selling. So his money has at least remained in the island.”
“But not in the Treasury; which, as you must undoubtedly have heard, has become sorely depleted of late owing to certain family troubles: the matter of the yearly tribute that is paid to His Highness’s half-brother, Seyyid Thuwani of Muscat and Oman, and lately the affair of Seyyid Bargash. His Highness’s private purse is also sadly lean, and he is finding it difficult to meet the normal obligations of daily life and keep up even an appearance of state. His affairs are, to be frank, in a parlous condition, and I cannot see that there is any chance of his paying your friends—”
“My acquaintances,” protested Issa Yusuf, looking pained.
Rory accepted the correction with a brief inclination of the head:—your acquaintances to reduce their depredations and refrain from terrifying the townsfolk and wrecking the economy of the Island.”
“And you hoped that I might be able to persuade my—er—acquaintances to stay away this year? I wish I could do sol But I am afraid it is impossible. Quite impossible.”
The Hajji heaved a regretful sigh and managed to look so sincerely distressed that Rory’s sense of humour got the better of him and he laughed aloud, and so infectiously that his host was betrayed into another bout of silent, shoulder-jerking mirth that ended in a wheezing and audible chuckle.
“But it is true,” insisted Hajji Issa, recovering himself “I regret exceedingly His Highness’s financial troubles, and I sympathize with him in his misfortune. But the dhows have already sailed and I could not turn them back if I would. My—acquaintances have their living to make, and they are hard and unsentimental men who would not listen to an old, fat man such as myself, even if I were foolish enough to try and dissuade them. I can, alas, do nothing for you.”
“You will forgive me if I disagree,” said Rory with a grin. “I have no intention of asking you to use your influence to keep them away from the Island. For one thing I don’t believe you could do it even if you wanted to; which I am well aware you do not! But your friends—I beg your pardon—your acquaintances, have so far contented themselves with robbing the poorer section of the community. Such houses as they have broken into have mostly been in the bazaar quarter of the city and ill guarded, and they have left the richer merchants—the Banyans and the big Arab landowners and nobles—severely alone, confining themselves to preying on those who are less able to defend themselves.”
“It may be,” said Issa Yusuf vaguely. “I have not been there myself and so I do not know about these things; though it seems to me a wise course to refrain from attacking the strong. But you did not come here only to tell me this?”
“No, Hajji. I came here with the intention of making your acquaintance, because I had heard that you were a shrewd and sagacious man, and I thought that together we might work out some more equitable arrangement.”
Issa-bin-Yusuf looked an enquiry but did not speak.
“It seems to me,” said Rory pensively, “that if some of the richer and more influential members of the community were to suffer a heavier loss, it might encourage them to contribute part of their wealth to a fund that could be used by His Highness to buy back, for a fair price, any kidnapped children, and also to persuade your acquaintances to shorten their stay and do their trading elsewhere. And as any money they receive would, as you have so truly said, in all probability be spent on buying more slaves from His Highness’s subjects, the people should have nothing—or not much—to complain of.”
He smiled pleasantly at Issa Yusuf, who for all his cunning did not know that smile, and was deceived by it as others had been. “Naturally,” said Rory gently, “since some of the richer merchants occupy unpretentious houses and do nothing to advertise their wealth, your acquaintances would wish to know which of the houses in the town would most repay their attentions, and to what villages and hiding places in the interior slaves and valuables have been taken for safe-keeping.”
Issa-bin-Yusuf drew rein at the edge of a fragrant orange grove, and sat silent for a while, stroking his beard and gazing thoughtfully into space while Rory waited, sitting relaxed in the saddle and idly watching the slow progress of a chameleon that was edging itself along a broken branch in pursuit of a large black and gold butterfly sunning itself just out of range of that whip-lash tongue. He knew when Issa Yusuf’s sly old eyes slid sideways under the wrinkled, hooded lids that were so like an elderly eagle’s, but he gave no indication of it and endured that suspicious scrutiny without altering his own expression. As he had just said, he could be patient when it suited him, and he hoped that the bait would prove sufficiently tempting to lure Issa-bin-Yusuf and his friends into snatching and swallowing it without perceiving the concealed hook.
The chameleon, having gauged its distance, took a firm grip on the branch, and a split second later the butterfly had vanished and the chameleon was wearing a pair of black and gold wings on either side of its closed jaws. Its blank unblinking look had not altered, and neither did Rory’s as Issa-bin-Yusuf took the bait…
“Would there,” enquired Issa-bin-Yusuf softly, “be a way to ensure that such houses were not too well guarded on certain nights?”
Rory permitted himself to laugh again. He turned his head and met Issa Yusuf’s shrewd, calculating gaze with eyes that were bland and amused. “I think it could be managed. But there must be no killing and no setting houses on fire, for if the merchants die and the city bums, the Sultan will be ruined and the Island with him. And we have a saying in my country that it is foolish to slaughter a goose that lays golden eggs.”
He offered the maxim deliberately and wondered for a moment if he had gone too far. But Issa Yusuf, having pondered it, began to laugh and broke once more into his wheezing chuckle. “I think we can deal together,” said Issa Yusuf, and wiped a tear of mirth from the comer of one eye: “As you say, it is not right that His Highness should carry the full burden of expenses while others who can well afford it escape with full purses. Yes, certainly we should make a more equitable arrangement.”
“And a more profitable one,” murmured Rory.
“Assuredly. Assuredly! For if His Highness’s Treasury is as empty as you say, and the rich and powerful, suffering little from the visits of these traders from the Gulf, will not assist him, where is the money to come from to sweeten the traders’ departure?”
“Where indeed? I see that we are agreed. And if the merchants and nobles should pay into the Treasury a little more than the masters of the dhows require for that sweetening, and for the ransoming of such children whose parents may raise too great an outcry, then His Highness too will have no cause for dissatisfaction.”
Issa Yusuf’s mirth threatened to deprive him of breath
, and he rolled in the saddle, coughing and grunting, and when he had recovered himself he said: “I see that His Highness is also a shrewd man of business. It is a pleasure to deal with him, and I shall do my best to assist him. I am expecting a friend—yes, an old friend from Kuwait—in a few days’ time. He makes a point of visiting me when he comes south to trade, and if you would honour my humble house with your illustrious presence until such time as he comes, I know that you will be interested to meet him.”
They had returned to the house in perfect amity, and Captain Frost, reporting the further delay and the reason for it to Mr Potter that evening, observed that he could only hope that the Hajji Issa-bin-Yusuf’s old friend from Kuwait would be equally blind to the fact that there was a catch in it.
“What catch?” demanded Batty suspiciously.
“Think it over,” advised his Captain briefly, and went out to give certain instructions to Ralub which resulted in the unobtrusive departure, some three hours later, of a small fishing boat that slipped out of the harbour shortly before moonrise, headed for Zanzibar and carrying the news that the pirate dhows might be expected before the week was out.
Batty was still scratching his head and looking thoughtful when he returned to the cabin, and Rory said unkindly: “Worked it out yet, Uncle?”
Batty shook his head, and Rory said fervently: “Thank God for that!”
“And why, I should like to know?” snarled Batty, nettled.
“Because if it hasn’t occurred to you, the chances are that it won’t to them—until it’s too late.”
“Well come on, can’t you? Stop pattin’ yourself on the back and let’s ‘ear what it is.”
“Ever heard of the goose that laid the golden eggs, Batty?”
“I “av not. And what’s more I don’t believe—”
“Neither had my respected host. The allusion went straight over his venerable head, though I was afraid for a moment or two that he was going to get it. But he only saw one side of it: the wrong one, I am thankful to say. The citizens of Zanzibar will go on finding their harbour full of pirate dhows, and the place swarming with raiders, just as long as they sit on their hands and thank Allah that the next man’s slaves and children have been stolen, and not theirs. But this time the ones who usually escape with no more than a fright and a bit of inconvenience are going to find themselves robbed and beaten; and when they put pressure on the Sultan to pay over large sums to buy the pirates off, they are going to be told that they themselves will have to supply the money to do it with. Or a share of it, anyway.”