Mistress Below Deck

by Helen Dickson

  Tobias had misgivings about taking Rowena with him. In her cut-off trews and baggy shirt she went unnoticed, but if anyone took the time to look closer they would see a fair-skinned, pretty youth beneath that floppy hat she had taken to wearing all the time. There were men who prowled the narrow streets of Algiers on the look out for such pretty youths. They would watch and wait until they were unguarded and then take them captive, for they always fetched a good price in the thriving slave-markets.

  Preoccupied by these sobering thoughts, Tobias instinctively moved to stand closer to Rowena without appearing too familiar to those who might be watching.

  ‘I am trying to prevent you doing anything that might place you in danger, but I have no illusions about what you would do the minute I left the ship if I ordered you to stay on board.’

  Her head spun round and her ferocious glare showed Tobias the futility of such a thing. ‘Don’t you dare!’

  He chuckled softly. ‘Short of clapping you in irons, there is nothing I can do to prevent you leaving the ship. Of course I could instruct the crew not to row you ashore, but that would draw unnecessary attention to you, and you, you wily minx, are capable of jumping overboard and swimming ashore if you have a mind—if just to thwart me.’

  Tobias saw a quick flash of white teeth in a happy grin. ‘I see you’ve got the measure of me at last, Mr Searle, so don’t even consider leaving me behind.’

  Chapter Six

  A small skiff was lowered into the water and two of the crew rowed them to the quay, where a crowd of turbaned functionaries and sightseers had gathered to observe their landing. The skiff sped back to the ship, from whence it would return to collect them later. Hit by the heat and the noise, Rowena followed close behind Tobias as he forced a way through the crowd on the busy harbour, with its countless fish stalls and vendors of fruit, vegetables and brightly coloured unknown spices sitting cross-legged on the ground beside their wares.

  They went through a maze of crooked streets and sultry alleys, dusty and swarming with flies, before beginning the climb up the interminable steep hill of Algiers, so steep in places that the climb was broken occasionally by short flights of steps. The street also acted as the main bazaar, where every sort of marvel seemed to spill in profusion from the stalls on either side, and this, along with a multitude of beggars—marked by running sores, some blind and with horribly misshapen bodies—goats and donkeys, made it difficult in places to progress speedily.

  Eventually they came to the terraces of houses. The house of Ahmed al Rashid was a white three-storey mansion set high on the outskirts that commanded magnificent views of the harbour and the sea beyond. A manservant opened the door and invited them to enter. Rowena stared in amazement at the great Negro who was grinning from ear to ear as he stood aside to let them pass, before going to summon his master.

  She looked about her, struck by the size and luxury of the house. In the centre of the room in which they waited, whose slender colonnades were entirely covered with light blue, silver and pink filigree decoration, was a circular marble pool into which a trickle of water splashed endlessly from between the jaws of a stone lion. She made her way towards it over the glittering mosaic floor, gazing into the crystal-clear water, tempted to reach out and let its coolness spill over her hands.

  Her eyes were alight with pleasure as she turned to look at Tobias, who was watching her with the amusement of an adult watching a happy child. ‘What a wondrous place this is,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve never seen a house with such splendid views—and certainly not a house with an indoor fountain before. It’s like a fairy-tale palace. I did not imagine your friend owned such a place as this.’

  ‘Ahmed has amassed a large enough fortune from his shipbuilding to ensure he and his family can live in luxury for the rest of their lives.’

  ‘The—servants in his house—are they slaves?’ she asked tentatively.

  He nodded. ‘Some of them, but Ahmed is not a cruel master. He uses slave labour to build his ships. Some of them are skilled men, having been trained well in the countries they came from. Skilled shipwrights are a bonus in the busy Arsenal and speed things up. You will like Ahmed—and I must warn you to beware, for not only is he a successful builder of some of the finest vessels ever to sail out of Algiers, he is also a great charmer,’ he teased, grinning, and Rowena could tell he was inordinately pleased that she appreciated the splendour of the house and the beauty of its setting.

  Rowena’s preoccupation with the fountain was abruptly cut off when a man suddenly appeared, his eyes going directly to Tobias.

  ‘Tobias!’ the good shipwright cried in amazement. ‘It can’t be.’

  Tobias laughed and went to embrace his friend. ‘Yes, my friend, it is I, and I am happy to see you again.’

  ‘It must be heaven itself which has brought you here. It’s wonderful. But come in, come in, and tell me about yourself. It has been too long. You have brought me some timber?’

  ‘Not this time, Ahmed—but one of my vessels will be putting in at Algiers with a cargo within the month. My reason for coming to Algiers now is not to trade.’

  ‘Then we shall talk of it as we eat.’

  Rowena could not tear her eyes away from Ahmed al Rashid. Never had she seen the like. She was surprised that he spoke in perfect English. His richly embroidered robe, which fell straight from his shoulders, was made of silk dyed deep blue, extremely beautiful, like the sea at twilight. He must have been between thirty-five and forty years old and his unturbaned head was covered with a thick crop of black hair. His skin was dark, Moorish, his features fine cut and haughty, his beard black and well trimmed, and his eyes were dark and glowing.

  He sat at ease on a low divan spread with bright rugs and surrounded by a heap of brightly coloured silk cushions, in an atmosphere thick with the scent of sandalwood and flowers. A superb parrot preened its long crimson feathers and strutted on its silver perch, cooing like a dove and watching the visitors with its great round eyes. As Ahmed regarded his visitor, a smile curved his full mouth and exposed his strong white teeth.

  ‘So, my friend, how long are you to remain here?’

  ‘Until I have information on where I can find someone.’

  ‘And might I ask the name of this someone?’

  ‘I know him as Jack Mason. Here he is known as Hassan Kasem. He uses Algiers as his base to sell captives. I was hoping you could tell me if he’s been here recently.’

  ‘Hassan Kasem,’ murmured Ahmed as though considering the name and nodding slowly. ‘The renegade—the Christian turned Moor for greed and gain.’

  ‘That’s Mason. Have you heard something?’

  ‘Nothing good. He is not liked, nor is he trusted.’

  ‘So you do know him.’

  ‘I know of him. He is called evil names—snake, scorpion, among others not so flattering.’ He laughed. ‘What is your interest in Hassan Kasem?’

  ‘It is personal, Ahmed. I have been a long time trailing him.’

  A light dawned in Ahmed’s eyes. ‘Ah, now I know. It is about what happened on Jamaica. You have still not resolved that.’

  ‘No, and nor will I until I find Mason. He has a habit of slipping neatly through my fingers. But I dare say I’ll catch up with him. He’s clever, though, and cunning, but he will not escape me for ever. I have a score to settle with him, a heavy score, Ahmed, and one I mean to make him pay in full.’

  ‘Then I wish you luck, my friend, and I pray to Allah that the day of reckoning will be soon—which may well be, since his ship’s consort was taken out by a British man of war in the Atlantic not so long ago. The English captain, Captain Ryan, is making quite a name for himself by successfully attacking vessels belonging to the Barbary corsairs—and I believe he has singled out the Seadog, Kasem’s ship, which sails alone and is well past her prime.’

  ‘Then I would dearly like to meet this captain. Perhaps I will, but until then I must go on seeking Mason—or Kasem.’ Tobias reclined opposite
his friend. His handsome face with its strong features and imperious profile was as lean and fine drawn, and almost as tanned, as that of the shipwright. ‘This is Rowan, my cabin boy, Ahmed.’ He looked to where Rowena sat cross legged on a mat, amazed that she had remained silent for so long. ‘He too has a special reason for knowing if Kasem has put into Algiers recently. His sister was among some captives he brought to sell.’

  Ahmed looked at the youth who was watching them with a keen eye. ‘Then rest assured that if she was brought to Algiers for sale you will know. The Dey’s scribes enter every new intake of captives in the city register. Everything about her will have been recorded—her attributes and defects written down. Find it and you will find your sister—but I must tell you that the most beautiful women are snapped up by private buyers. If a ransom can be agreed, then you must realise that whoever bought her will probably demand double the amount he gave for her.’

  ‘I’ll make some enquiries tomorrow,’ Tobias said. ‘Maybe I will be able to see the register.’

  ‘How much start did Kasem have on you?’

  ‘A week, no more.’

  ‘Then there is every chance that you will find her.’

  The meal was served by an army of servants in white robes and blue silk turbans. The food was carried on big silver trays—fish and meats and sweetmeats dripping honey. It was spicy and delicious and washed down with hot spiced wines. Rowena was quick to compliment their host as she chewed on something that set her taste buds tingling.

  The talk went on more slowly now, for, comfortably settled with good food and the wine’s sweetness, Tobias was in no haste to go. In fact, it might have gone on all night long had not a woman entered to speak to Ahmed. She seemed to appear from nowhere, gliding across the floor, her bare feet making no sound on the black marble floor and, but for the silvery tinkle that accompanied her movement, Rowena might have imagined her an apparition.

  The woman looked at the dark-haired handsome visitor, blinking, and then she loosed a shout of laughter, her lips stretching wide in her broad face.

  ‘Mr Searle! I give you greetings,’ she said, her voice dark toned and rich.

  Rowena stared at her. She was a woman with the proportions of an erotic statuette, plump to the point where another pound or so would have been a disaster, but she had kept her curvaceousness, and she walked with grace and was light of foot. Her skin was dark, but she was not as dark as their host, and the attractive curves of her lip and nostril were slightly thickened. She brought to mind those sensual pictures Rowena had seen in books of Delilah and Jezebel, which religious artists paint so enthusiastically.

  Tobias got up and bowed to her with respect. ‘Fatima! It does my heart good to see you again.’

  ‘You honour us with your presence.’ The woman’s eyes slipped to Rowena. ‘And your companion. But who is this?’

  ‘Rowan—my cabin boy.’ He cocked an eye at Rowena, a secret smile playing on his lips. ‘Rowan, may I introduce Fatima—she is Ahmed’s senior wife,’ he said, with slight emphasis on ‘senior’.

  Rowena’s eyes opened wide with confusion and they flew to Ahmed’s in disbelief. ‘Senior wife?’ she gasped before she could stop herself, two spots of dark colour appearing high on her cheeks. ‘You have more than one wife?’

  Ahmed was quite undaunted as a dazzling smile broke the line of his mouth. He was obviously amused by her reaction. ‘Clearly your cabin boy is not acquainted with our ways and customs, Tobias. Fatima is my first wife,’ he explained to Rowena, and on a proud note he announced, ‘I have two more wives, Shilla and Zidana, but they are not as clever as my first wife. Their English is not so good, but they were surely designed by Lord Satan’s hand—two enchantresses, to turn a man’s heart away from pious thoughts.’

  As if on cue, two more females appeared from behind a flimsy curtain, each carrying platters of more food, and came to stand with Fatima. One, Shilla, was tall and as black as ebony with almond-shaped eyes. Zidana was smaller and olive skinned. She wore kohl to darken her lashes and thus brighten and enlarge her great brown eyes.

  Both were slender hipped beneath loose silk trousers and well-filled short bodices, their midriffs bare. Delicate gold necklaces glittering with gems adorned their chests, and a multiplicity of gold bangles circled their arms. They both wore half-veils from just below their eyes to their chins, but those veils were so transparent as to make a mockery of the Prophet’s command for female modesty. Their eyes were most eloquent when they rested on Tobias.

  Rowena managed to retain a cool and unruffled expression as they placed the platters of juicy fruits in front of them, their jewellery clinking and jingling as they moved. There was a gorgeous selection of dates and figs, melons, sliced oranges swimming in rose water, mingled with shredded coconut and grapes and sweetened with crystalline sugar. Rowena had never tasted anything like it in her life.

  As she ate, she listened to the girlish laughter and voices speaking in Arabic ring out as the three wives sprawled on cushions, and she listened to Tobias reply to their excited chattering fluently.

  He was relaxed and smiled with twinkling eyes at Shilla and Zidana, but he sobered as he met Rowena’s eyes. She stared at him with a quizzical quirk playing about her lips and a wondering dip to her brow, before looking away, because for one terrible moment she was seized with passionate jealousy and resentment for these two women, so terrible and so unexpected that the glow of the feelings Tobias aroused in her of late began to fade.

  Ahmed glanced at Tobias where he sat contentedly, listening to something Fatima said. He had made Shilla and Zidana blush more than once already, with his compliments on their beauty. His charming smile and words had been all for Fatima, but the glint in his eyes had searched for and found his cabin boy.

  Ahmed looked across at the graceful, pretty youth and then at his friend. He well knew Tobias and suspected that some mischief was afoot. Fixing his gaze once more on the youth, who was studying him in turn, with awakened interest he did not speak for several moments, but simply sat there, looking at him, and then said, ‘I have a surprise for you, Tobias.’

  ‘Oh?’ he asked, one dark eyebrow raised in enquiry.

  Ahmed smiled, his eyes gleaming wickedly. ‘It will be a revelation, I’ve no doubt, for your companion as well.’

  Rowena looked at him with interest. She had indeed always enjoyed surprises and could not imagine the nature of this one.

  Ahmed picked a fig from the platter and, holding it up, scrutinised it as though he’d never seen one before.

  ‘Well, Ahmed?’ Tobias asked impatiently.

  He chuckled and turned to face Rowena. ‘It concerns your young friend.’

  Despite Ahmed’s good humour, Rowena felt the first tentative fingers of fear trail along her spine. She gulped at her wine and waited, her heart hammering against her rib cage.

  ‘Rowan, my friend, is no youth.’

  ‘What?’ Fatima exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at first at her husband, then at Rowena.

  For the shortest time, too, Rowena sat wide-eyed, astonishment overpowering her vocal capacity. Then, her mind working quickly, she resolved to attempt to brazen herself out of this awkward, embarrassing, and potentially dangerous, position, for if others found out her secret, the foundations of her safe and secure position on board ship would crumble and cause all kinds of complications.

  ‘I must object,’ she burst out in her most outraged tone and jumped to her feet. ‘You are sorely mistaken…’

  Instead of seriously considering this denouncement, as Rowena had expected, Tobias simply began laughing, Ahmed joining him, his two younger wives smiling sublimely in their ignorance as they looked in bewilderment from one face to the other.

  ‘Ahmed, what are you saying?’ Fatima demanded, wondering why her husband should make this seemingly inappropriate comment and impatient that he should explain himself.

  At last Ahmed recovered his control. ‘I am saying that our young guest is not what he seems. Rowan
is a girl. It is a good disguise that she has adopted, and no doubt it has fooled most—you, too, my dearest heart.’

  Fatima turned to Rowena, who was looking beseechingly to Tobias for deliverance. ‘It is true, what my husband alleges?’

  Rowena reluctantly met her eyes and sighed deeply. ‘It is true,’ she finally admitted. ‘I am female.’

  Fatima looked at Tobias. ‘You know?’

  He nodded, still laughing, though softer now. ‘Aye, Fatima. I have known all along.’

  ‘Of course he knows,’ Ahmed was quick to say. ‘Either that or his eyes have grown dim. But I was not fooled.’

  ‘But—that is delightful,’ Fatima cried, clapping her hands together. She laughed with real amusement, a rich, merry sound, at the astonished look on the young girl’s face, for Rowena was staring at her as though she had taken leave of her senses, totally confused, for she certainly hadn’t expected this reaction from Ahmed’s senior wife.

  ‘I do believe I have upset the young lady,’ Ahmed said, chuckling softly. ‘Is this so?’ he asked kindly, gazing at Rowena’s distraught face. She nodded mutely. ‘It was not done to tease you, child.’

  ‘You must excuse Ahmed, Rowena,’ Tobias remarked, coming to her rescue at last. ‘There is no fooling him.’

  ‘Rest assured that we shall say nothing of your true nature—Rowena,’ Ahmed said, ‘but won’t you explain what has prompted you to adopt such a mode of attire?’

  ‘When Rowena’s sister was captured by Kasem,’ Tobias explained, ‘she was determined to find out where he had taken her and to try to get her back. She could not do that as a woman, so she disguised herself as a youth and smuggled herself aboard my ship, which, for reasons I have already explained, was about to leave for North Africa. I did not find out myself until we had put to sea and it was too late to take her back.’

  Fatima listened with interest. She could sense the suppressed agitation in the girl, noted her clenched hands, the nervous movement of the brilliant green eyes that were fastened on Tobias, and she perceived that it would be good for Rowena to spend some time with someone of the same sex.