by M. M. Kaye
The Colonel did not miss the reservation, and remarked grimly that he did not think the Captain would find it any too easy to escape from the Cormorant either, if that was what he had in mind. He reached for the small brass bell that stood on his desk, rang it briskly and gave a curt order in the vernacular to the native clerk who answered the summons.
“I presume,” said the Colonel, “that you will wish to speak to that man of yours who is waiting outside. You can say anything you have to say in our presence.”
The door opened again to admit Ralub, who greeted the company with grave dignity, and Rory said crisply: “It has been agreed, Hajji. You and die others have leave to depart Take the old one and the child, and any of the household who wish to go, and get away as quickly as you can. His Excellency here permits you a day and a night to make any arrangements that are necessary, but since it is unwise to delay so long, go at once—within the hour if possible. And if we two should not…’ He hesitated for a moment, and then abandoning whatever else he had meant to say, gave a brief shrug and spoke instead a gracious Mohammedan form of farewell: ‘May you never be poor.’”
“‘May you never be tired,’” murmured Ralub in reply. He looked at Rory for the space of a long minute, and then said very softly: “No, we shall not meet again…Bound as we are for different paradises. Wedâ, ya Sidi.
He touched his head and his heart in formal salute, turned, and was gone.
“And I hope,” said Rory, his voice suddenly harsh, “that you have called off that oaf with the musket, because if he intends to dog Ralub’s footsteps all over town there will infallibly be trouble. The Hajji is apt to be quick-tempered.”
Colonel Edwards, whose quill pen was already scratching an order for the removal of all restrictions on The Dolphins’ House, ignored the remark, and it was Dan who went to the door and gave a low-toned order to the servant who stood outside it, and returning, said savagely: “You think you’ve won hands down, don’t you?—that once you’re out of this place and can get together a few lawyers to plead your case you’ll get off with a fine and a prison sentence. But if I have anything to do with it!”
“You won’t,” said Rory with the ghost of a laugh: “Not if you intend to stay here until the Cormorant arrives. Don’t look so disappointed, Dan. You may not be able to string me up this time, but there’s a more than even chance that I won’t get out of the Fort alive. In fact it looks as though we may all die before long; and a deal more unpleasantly than we should at a rope’s end! Cholera is a clumsy executioner, and I may even live to regret that I didn’t settle for a quick drop—and you that you didn’t invite a musket ball through your head this morning.”
Colonel Edwards’ quill ceased to scratch across the paper, and now it dropped a blot of ink across the last word, but he did not notice it His beetling brows twitched together in a sudden frown, and he looked at Rory with startled attention and said sharply: “Cholera?”
Rory stared at the abruptness of the question, and said impatiently: “What else do you suppose brought me here? You can’t have thought I was fool enough to think you might hang old Batty or any of my servants in my stead? Good God—I know you better than that! No; it was the cholera. You know as well as I do that in this weather, and with the living conditions that exist in the bazaars and the African Town, it’ll spread like a forest fire. There’ll be no holding it, and I couldn’t let you keep Batty and the child and the rest of them under house-arrest in the city at a time like this. The sooner they get clear of the Island the better. And if you have any sense you’ll cram as many of the European women and children as you can onto the Daffodil and send them off to Aden or the Cape: or anywhere else outside this part of Africa.”
“Nonsense!” said the Colonel angrily; the sharpness of the denial itself a betrayal of his anxiety. “There have been one or two isolated cases in outlying villages, but the disease is endemic here. As for the epidemic form which has been ravaging Africa, it may have reached the coast, but it has not yet appeared in Zanzibar, and strict precautions are being taken against it doing so. The dhows—”
“You are behind the times, sir,” interrupted Rory brusquely. “It reached the Island well over a week ago and has already broken out in the city. At least two persons have died of it in the Malindi quarter, and a week from now that figure will be two hundred if it is not two thousand.”
“I don’t believe you. I would have heard. How did you come by this rumour?”
“From a man,” said Rory laconically. “But you don’t have to take my word for it. I imagine that the unfortunate Malindi household is in no hurry to advertise the fate that has overtaken it, but they won’t be able to keep it quiet for long—as who should know better than yourself, sir? I’ve heard you were in Bengal in the year that thirty thousand pilgrims to some shrine died in less than six days from the cholera. And from all I’ve heard, the Indian epidemic was child’s play to the one that’s been killing off half Africa; which is why I told Ralub to get clear of this place as soon as possible, and not wait out your twenty-four hours’ grace.”
The Colonel’s eyes had become as blank as pebbles, and they no longer appeared to be focused on anything inside the office but to be contemplating something remote and unpleasant. Rory saw his lips move soundlessly and was able to follow his thoughts…
There were no hospitals in Zanzibar, and except for the British Consulate’s Medical Officer, Dr Kealey, no qualified doctors. Apart from the Daffodil and the Virago, the only craft in harbour at the moment were Arab dhows, a Muscat buggalow, the Sultan’s ‘Fleet’ and a few fishing boats. And the only European ship expected in the near future was HMS Cormorant, which was not due to arrive for at least two weeks yet, and might well be delayed even longer. It would be inadvisable to dispense with the Daffodil until it was certain that the raiders from the Gulf were not lurking somewhere off the African coast with the intention of returning as soon as it seemed safe to do so. And it was not, at this juncture, possible to send away the Western women and children, even supposing any of them should wish to leave; which seemed unlikely, since they must all by now be used to the fact that both cholera and smallpox were endemic on the Island. There were always a few cases of both in the city. Most of them in the Nazimodo area on the far side of the noisome creek that divided the Stone Town, where the Arabs and rich Banyans lived, from the African Town where the negroes and freed slaves existed in unbelievable squalor in huts constructed from mud, palm boughs, rusty tin or anything else that could be pressed into service to provide shelter from the heat and the night and the merciless monsoon rains. The African Town—the “Black Town’—was a breeding ground for cholera. But at no time during the Colonel’s term of office had the disease achieved the proportion of an epidemic, and on consideration he did not see why it should do so now…
His eyes lost their abstraction and he spoke abruptly, breaking the long silence: “There is no reason to suppose,” said Colonel Edwards, “that these cases you mention are more than the normal quota of such deaths at this time of the year. We are never entirely free from cholera here and may expect a moderate seasonal outbreak.”
“This does not happen to be endemic cholera, and it will not be moderate,” said Rory dryly.
He turned on his heel and looked directly at Dan, and there was no longer either mockery or impatience on his face, but something that was oddly like diffidence. He said carefully: “You are a friend of the Hollises, and will wish to see the ladies in safety. I know it is not what either you or they would choose, but will you tell them that there will be room for them on the Virago if they care to make use of it, and that Ralub will take them to any port within reasonable distance that they like to name. Possibly Mayo could go with them, if he does not mind sleeping on deck.”
This time it was Dan who laughed: a short and ugly laugh compounded of anger, scorn and relief “So that’s what you had in mind! I knew there was bound to be a joker in the pack. It’s a pretty plot, but I’m afraid it won�
��t work. Did you really think you could trick us into handing over a parcel of hostages just by turning up here with some cock-and-bull story about cholera? You must take us for imbeciles!”
“I took you for a man of sense,” said Rory shortly. “But it seems I was wrong. Don’t be a fool, Larrimore! I don’t have to prove what I say. You’ll get all the proof you need before the week’s out.”
“By which time, as she’s to sail today, your ship and everyone in her would be well beyond our reach. A very useful arrangement—for you.”
Rory forebore to lose his temper and said patiently: “Look, Dan, you may not like anything about me, and I am well aware how much you and the Hollis ladies will dislike making use of my ship. But this is no time for striking attitudes. Take what you can and be thankful it is there to take. It may be the last chance they’ll get.”
“You mean the last chance you’ll get to lay your hands on something you can use to bargain with!” scoffed Dan. “If they were mad enough to accept, the only thing that would be in doubt would be how soon one of your ruffians would make his appearance with a demand for your release in exchange for returning one of them, and the amount of ransom money you would decide that you’d like for the others. Colonel Edwards may be prepared to believe that you returned to Zanzibar of your own accord and for the sake of an old man and a child, but I’m damned if I am! It’s a touching story, and nicely designed to underline the danger of allowing these women to stay on the Island. But I’m not falling for it And even if the plague was raging in the city, or the place was in flames, I still would not advise anyone to accept your word or put a foot on your ship!”
“Please yourself,” shrugged Rory. He turned back to Colonel Edwards and said: “The offer, sir, is still open. But Ralub will sail on the next tide, and I look to you to see that nothing is done to delay him.”
“Nothing will be,” said the Colonel stiffly.
Rory bowed his acknowledgements, and was presently escorted out by Dan and two of the Baluchi guard to temporary imprisonment in a small room on the top floor of the Consulate, where the single narrow window was latticed with stonework and looked out onto a blank wall, and the furniture consisted of a string bed of local manufacture. The door closed upon hun and the key turned gratingly in the lock, and he heard the footsteps of two men retreating down the stone stairway.
The British Consul might have his doubts as to Emory Frost’s ability to raise any further riots in the city, but he was taking no chances. To march Frost through the streets by daylight and under guard might invite an attempt at a rescue, and he considered it wiser to wait until after dark before transferring his prisoner to the Fort—always supposing that His Highness the Sultan would consent to his being held there! But although the Sultan was known to be a personal friend of the Captain’s, he could hardly be expected to risk offending every white man in Zanzibar by refusing to take into custody a notorious lawbreaker who had incited a mob of Gulf pirates to demonstrate against them, and had brutally abducted the niece of a Consul. A fact of which Rory himself, listening to those retreating footsteps and coldly assessing his chances, was equally well aware.
Majid would have no alternative but to hold him prisoner, and having accepted the charge, to see that he did not escape. And had Colonel Edwards known His Highness the Sultan a little better, he could have saved himself that distasteful and entirely unnecessary gesture of asking for and accepting the parole of a “blackguardly slaver’. Majid had done what he could in secret to assist his friend to evade capture, but now that Rory had openly returned and given himself up, there would be nothing more that he could do for him. He might regret the necessity, but he would see the sense of keeping Captain Frost strictly confined until such time as arrangements could be made to remove him from the island. And once aboard the Cormorant, guarded by unsympathetic bluejackets and en route to Aden or the Cape, there would be no hope of escape. The only time to attempt such a thing was now, before the gates of the Fort shut behind him.
Rory had given no promise not to try to escape from this house, and his quick eye had already noted a flaw in the stone lattice-work, and the stoutness of the string that had been used in the construction of the bed. It should be perfectly possible to break the first and make use of the second, which unravelled and knotted together would reach far enough to allow him to drop to the ground. But he knew that he could not do it He must give Ralub time to get the Virago well clear of the Island and out of reach of pursuit And long before he could be confident of that he would be in the Fort.
He crossed to the window, and grasping the lattice was wryly amused to discover that his guess had been correct The slab of sandstone from which it had been carved must always have contained a flaw, and wind and weather had worked upon it until a strong blow with one of the legs of the bed would have smashed it into fragments. The drop beneath was not more than thirty feet into a narrow alley that led directly down to the water’s edge, and under any other circumstances the matter would have been simple…
Rory sighed and let his hand drop, and turning away from the window, disposed himself as comfortably as possible on the sagging string bed and went to sleep.
34
The Fort was a solid, castellated structure of yellow coral rag, built long ago to protect the harbour, but now housing a portion of the Sultan’s guard and serving as a prison. Standing at some distance from the Palace and the homes of the rich, it faced seaward and possessed several rooms with barred and embrasured windows that looked onto the harbour. But Captain Emory Frost’s was not one of these, for the British Consul was a careful man, and despite his acceptance of the Captain’s parole, he had insisted that the prisoner be confined somewhere where he could neither see nor be seen by men passing in the streets or along the harbour front Thereby avoiding any risk of undesirable elements in the city communicating with him.
His Highness the Sultan (who regarded his friend’s return to the city as an act of madness) had shrugged and agreed: and two days later sent him a most welcome gift of fresh fruit and a promise that more would be forthcoming to augment the spartan prison diet. But no more had arrived and nor was there any further word from Majid, and Rory had no way of knowing that the shopkeeper who had been charged with supplying the fruit had fallen a victim to the cholera, or that Majid—also unaware of this, but learning that the plague had reached the city—had hastily retired to one of his smaller and more secluded estates in the countryside beyond Beit-el-Ras, and given orders that all contact with the city must be reduced to a minimum as a precaution against couriers or visitors picking up the infection there and bringing it back with them.
His English friend, in accordance with the British Consul’s wishes, had been allotted a windowless cell on the ground floor of the Fort, facing inwards onto the verandah that surrounded the inner courtyard. Light and ventilation were inadequately provided by an iron grille let into the upper part of the door, and during the daytime the small stone cell seemed cool enough, for the massive walls were a protection against the blazing sun. But at night it was a stifling purgatory, since no breeze could blow through it and scores of mosquitoes filled the hot darkness with their whining song.
The grille provided Rory with a view of a verandah pillar and, beyond it, a glimpse of the open courtyard around which the Fort was built and where members of the garrison, jailers, servants and a few favoured prisoners would congregate in idle groups to talk, sleep and quarrel. But though he was permitted such extra amenities as the use of a razor and a scanty supply of soap and water to wash with, he was not allowed under any circumstances to leave the cell. And in case he might use the razor as a weapon, it was passed in daily through the grille after the door had been safely shut and locked again, and had to be returned the same way before any food was handed to him.
Orders had evidently been given that no one was to be allowed to approach within a range that might permit of clandestine speech, for the garrison kept its distance, and he had no contact with his
fellow-men except for three people: Limbili, the surly negro who brought him his food, Bhiru, the slovenly half-witted youth who cleaned his cell, and a huge, silent Nubian who morning and evening stood by with a loaded blunderbuss whenever the door of the cell was unlocked, and by night squatted outside it, additionally armed with a scimitar and an ancient musket.
The youth, a Banyan of low caste, performed his duties under the watchful eye of Limbili and was too frightened to speak; and neither Limbili nor the Nubian could be persuaded into conversation, for the latter had lost his tongue as a result of an accident in early youth, while the former, having been sold into slavery by a Portuguese trader and escaped to Zanzibar from the French plantations of La Reunion, cherished a consuming hatred for all white men.
Limbili would dearly like to have vented that hatred on the prisoner. But he was aware that the Englishman possessed powerful friends in Zanzibar—among them, it was said, no less a person than the Sultan himself; though that at least could no longer be true, since it was by the Sultan’s order that he had been imprisoned in the Fort. Still, it would be wiser to refrain from ill-treating the white man until his position became clearer, and in the meantime Limbili confined himself to such overt acts as spoiling or spilling the larger part of the food and drink that he carried to the prisoner, refusing to answer when spoken to, and permitting the Banyan youth to neglect his duties and leave unemptied (or on occasions deliberately upset) the noisome bucket that served in place of a latrine.
But to Rory the heat and the stench, the ruined food and inadequate water, the lack of exercise and the monotony of the slow, hot aimless hours, were merely discomforts that he had expected, and he accepted them philosophically. They were not new to him, for he had, in one way or another, experienced them all before, and the only thing that he had not foreseen, and that fretted him unbearably, was the lack of any news. He could get no answers to his questions, and he did not know what was happening in the city, or if the cholera had spread or been checked. Or if there was any word yet of the Cormorant‘s arrival…