A Busy Season (The Duty and Destiny Series, Book 8)

by Andrew Wareham

  “Oh, good, I am so glad, sir. I am to travel inland to the Emperor’s court, I gather?”

  “No. You will not actually show yourself to the Emperor in person, but to his people sent to the coast for the purpose. The Emperor Slimane is a learned and scholarly gentleman who is quite aware of his own worth and does not need the grovelling of kafir sailormen to bolster his sense of position. There are those of his court who do value such homage, however, and any number of Berber tribal chiefs who will be impressed by the sight. There is also the question of religion, it seems. They are, of course, all Mohammedans and so the enemies of Christendom, but, like ourselves, they are to be found in any number of sects and groupings. Some are akin to the Puritans, others are of a far gentler persuasion and more inclined to toleration; the emperor appears to be of the milder sort and thus finds it possible to ally himself to us, but it is useful to him if on occasion he can demonstrate to his people that ‘Franks’ are his juniors, that he is the superior being.”

  “Ah, I see, sir. So my function is to show myself as being important in the outside world – hence the need to display the diamond – but also a lesser being in the eyes of Morocco.”

  “Just so, sir. You really must be prepared to be seen as a supplicant at the feet of the great lord and master of creation. Many of our people find this rather difficult, of course, knowing themselves to be the true masters of the world.”

  “Yes indeed, sir. Had you considered applying to Lord St Vincent for the purpose? I am sure that the Admiral would be suited to the enterprise in some ways.”

  The picture of Admiral Jervis bowing his arrogant neck could not but appeal; it seemed unlikely, however.

  “Perhaps not.”

  “Where am I to go, sir?”

  “Only to Tetuan. Certain members of the court are to be found there next month, primarily to accept gifts from the remaining Jewish community. The gifts, so-called, are no more than an additional tax on the Jews, one that increases each year. More and more of the Jewish people are leaving Morocco, many of them fleeing to Gibraltar and then to London. So long as they are wealthy, we find them welcome enough.”

  “When do I go, sir?”

  “When I have a frigate to hand, Sir Frederick. You cannot go in a lesser vessel, for the sake of your dignity, and the King’s. Next week, probably, though it may be a while longer; it depends when one of my ships comes in. For the time being, I would beg you to take a lodging with us, sir. Mrs Clerke will be delighted to have company other than the denizens of the Rock!”

  Gibraltar had been an English possession for the better part of a century and had already developed a population unique to itself, not especially British but utterly determined to be free from Spanish tyranny. It was a mixture of Levantine, Jew, Moor and refugees from the whole of the Mediterranean, making a living from trade, smuggling and the naval dockyard; what it was not was genteel in the English sense and those looking for a life of High Society had to seek company elsewhere.

  Frederick was pleased to accept the offer. He could hardly live aboard Euripides while she was in dockyard hands and the barracks accommodation, even for officers, was known to be Spartan.

  Mrs Clerke was some years younger than her husband, close to Frederick’s age in fact, an English rose, blonde of hair and blushing red of cheek, just beginning to fade. There was a son, located with grandparents not so far from Portsmouth, the Admiral having felt, not unreasonably, that there was a chance of a siege eventuating from the war with Spain, Gibraltar thus an undesirable place for a child. The main effect of the war so far had been the closure of the land border so that all fresh foods now came across the Strait from Morocco, more expensively than from Spain, to the detriment of the poor in the Gibraltarian population.

  The lady explained all of this to Frederick, though she was none too interested in the hardships of the poor, and expatiated on the hardships she was experiencing – she had so loved freshly picked lettuces, taken that very day!

  There was company at the dinner table each evening, mainly from the staff of the Governor and officers of the regiments of the garrison. None were known to Frederick but all had heard of him and had a faint acquaintance with his exploits, at least as far as they had appeared in the newssheets. One of the Governor’s people was his advisor on French affairs, fluent in the language and familiar with French opinions of Frederick and moderately amused by them.

  “What is this of cannibals, Sir Frederick? Or must one not venture such a question at the dinner table, sir?”

  “Ah, the ginger-haired brown men of the South Seas, or of part of the Papues, at least, sir! A fearsome group of people, yet capable of some courtesy, it seems. Unfortunately, it does appear that they are indeed anthropophagi, and quite devoted to their horrible habit. A French ship came aground during a battle off their coast and they boarded her before the battle had ended and before I could come to their rescue. Some hundred or so of the crew were knocked over the head and taken off to the pot, I fear. Needless to say, the French were, still may be, rather upset by the whole affair.”

  Mrs Clerke gave a delicate shudder, her feminine sensibilities upset by the topic, but she nonetheless enquired of their courtesy.

  “We gave them gifts and they insisted on reciprocating with shell money that was of great value to them.”

  “What did you do with that, Sir Frederick?”

  “We gave it away, ma’am, to an acquaintance of the First Lord of the day who had something to do with the Museum in London. It would have been discourteous to sell it.”

  Talk came round to the prospects of invasion now that Spain was allied to France; there was a general agreement that it was still unlikely, the more so as Nelson was thought to be in the business of seeking out the two fleets.

  “He is not well in himself, I fear, sir. The poor gentleman seemed much tired by his many exertions and the injuries he has received during his arduous service.”

  The soldiers listened to Mrs Clerke and agreed that battle was a strain upon the system, irrespective of wounds received, and the admiral had been much hurt in his time.

  “He has fought, I am told, on one hundred and thirty separate days,” Frederick commented. “It is a record that I cannot envy but must stand in amaze of. He has no equal in our service, or in any other that I know of.”

  A colonel, whose name Frederick had not caught, shook his head in disbelief. “I have served in America and India and lately in Egypt, and I doubt I have smelt powder on forty days all told. Unbelievable, ma’am, and, like Sir Frederick, I cannot envy the gentleman such experience. He must be exhausted by his travails. So many a man dead or wounded at his command; so many friends cut down before his eyes! We demand much of our great men, ma’am!”

  Mrs Clerke withdrew from the table and the men sipped their port, and then moved on to brandy. Her husband showed signs of his potations at an early hour and was assisted to his bed, the remainder of the company rising and proceeding through to the withdrawing room and the tea tray, as manners demanded.

  The guests made their way off, finally, and Frederick bade his hostess good night and retired to his chamber. The door opened a few minutes later and Mrs Clerke made her way into the room, dropping her dressing-gown the while. Frederick gathered that the admiral regularly was put to bed incapable, his manservant used to picking up his unconscious form from the dressing room floor where he had fallen. It was incumbent upon any naval officer to uphold the traditions of his service, Frederick reflected, doing his very best to make up for the admiral’s lack of enthusiasm in the marital field.

  It was some three weeks before there was a ship to take Frederick off on his diplomatic mission, and Mrs Clerke made the most of his presence. It occurred to Frederick that there was a spring in her step when he left, and she seemed much less faded. He was happy to have been of service to her, but hoped she might be otherwise engaged when he returned; admirals' wives made dangerous playmates for a man with a career.

  Tetuan was a s
mall port that had profited from the renewed presence of a British fleet in the Mediterranean. It was close to, and nervous of, the Spanish presence in the colonies on the African mainland, was always pleased to salute a British ship of war.

  The frigate dropped anchor in the outer roadstead, its captain explaining that there was a nasty sand bar that a frigate could, with a little care, navigate at the top of the tide, which was, of course, very slight in the Mediterranean.

  “Safer and wiser to remain in the roadstead, Sir Frederick, though it is sadly open to the east. I shall have you taken ashore in my barge, sir.”

  There was a British consul resident in Tetuan, mainly to facilitate trade with the local merchants. He was an elderly man, had been resident in Morocco for many years and was resigned to the prospect of dying there. He lived in a large and richly appointed house, ate well and seemed comfortable, more so than he could have been in London on the same income.

  He was very open in his conversation over dinner, a surprisingly English meal of grilled mutton.

  “I am called Deptford here, Sir Frederick. It is as good a name as most. I make no attempt, sir, to hide that I left England rather rapidly nearly thirty years ago, and drifted with the tide as it were, from France through the states of Italy and eventually fell into the way of trade on the Barbary Coast. I have been here for fifteen years. I would add that I fled England as a sixteen years old boy, having become entangled with a very foolish business with the remaining Jacobites. I was born a Romanist and a priest put me in the way of carrying letters between England and France – a lad of my age unlikely to be suspected, it seemed.”

  Frederick thought back – the last Jacobite plot he could recall being told of had been discovered during the American War, in the ‘70s. It would fit with Mr Deptford’s age. At sixteen he would have been no more than a boy, but quite old enough to hang.

  “I was taken into the service of the Cardinal Duke of York, the brother of the Young Pretender - I was not unpretty as a boy! As I say, eventually I was able to earn a living and ended up here.”

  “I had not realised that there was a place for a British man here, among the Barbary pirates, sir.”

  “They have taken many European ships over the years, often carrying cargoes that sell far better in London than in Algiers or Tunis or Tetuan.”

  The man was little better than a renegade, Frederick thought, but accepted that he had probably had little choice in his way of life.

  “The Emperor has sent a lesser minister to hold converse with some of the Berber tribes and to collect tribute from them and from the Jews. It will be possible for you to be presented to him in two days from now, on Sunday. I shall be in your company, together with a more official interpreter whose function will be to confirm that I am conveying your words correctly. You are to wear your formal dress, as you would for presentation to an English king, and will doff hat and bow as you would to a king, but you will not be required to kneel or offer prostration. The protocol has been established these many years so that unnecessary offence to either party can be avoided. You are not to offer gifts – that is done annually by formal embassies, both here and in London. You are, in fact, making no more than a courtesy call, a morning visit as it were.”

  “Thus, I may take my leave on Monday?”

  “Tuesday would be better, Sir Frederick. It is not impossible that there might be another meeting on Monday. I will know if it can be arranged by Sunday. For the while, it will be wiser that you should not be seen on the streets on a Friday – infidels tend to keep low on the Holy Day. I shall make one of my people available to you on Saturday as an interpreter, and four of my guards, as well as your own three men, to give you a retinue. You will no doubt wish to view the souks and lesser markets and perhaps make purchases for your family. You will, of course, be seen to be amazed at the wealth of Morocco as displayed to you.”

  “That is also a part of the performance, I presume, sir.”

  “It is – it will be widely known that the Franks have shown respect to the Empire.”

  “So be it, Mr Deptford. It is another part of my work as a servant of His Majesty.”

  “Just so, Sir Frederick. I would caution you, sir, that you will see slaves and possibly offensive sights, and you must ignore them as none of your business.”

  “Deliberate provocations, you would suggest, sir?”

  “Possibly, and equally likely just a part of daily life here.”

  The heat was not excessive during the winter months and Frederick found walking the town in his English woollen uniform quite tolerable, though the official pattern boots were something of a penance. Bosomtwi, Kavanagh and Olsen strode behind him, almost uniformed in their heavy blue jerseys and trousers, cut to their own design to reflect his and their importance as followers of a senior captain or commodore. Four guards, blackest of Nubians, strode behind carrying swords and short spears, to an extent ceremonial. They attracted an amount of attention, not perhaps admiring but showing little of abhorrence or antagonism.

  The markets were rich, but in Frederick’s opinion inferior to those of Bombay or the Spice Islands. There was an amount of attractive silverware, decorated in local fashion, ideal for gifts at home. He spoke to the interpreter who in turn quietly addressed the stallholders. A few minutes produced what seemed to Frederick to be a remarkably low price which he was happy to pay, English guineas known and acceptable to the traders.

  “They have been told, sir, by their own chiefs, that the English seamen are very poor. The King of England has expended all of his treasure to keep his word to the Emperor and fight the French and Spanish; he has no money to pay the seamen just now. They must be kindly in their dealings with you, they have been told.”

  Frederick smiled his thanks to the stallholders, though much inclined to throw their charity back at them.

  They passed by the walls of a small fortress, a gun platform looking over the roadstead, stopped a few minutes to look out over the sea and their frigate moored below.

  “Wind’s in the west, sir. Sheltered for the while, sir.”

  “Thank you, Kavanagh. Very open to a Levanter though.”

  “Anchors out and top-hamper down, sir, and hope it’s good holding ground. Very easy to be blown ashore here, sir, in an easterly gale.”

  There was a work gang repairing or extending a stretch of wall a few yards down from them; European men in chains, a pair of overseers in Arab dress carrying whips. Just occasionally a whip was flicked at a slave’s back, a light cut to tickle him up, remind them all to keep moving.

  “They could be English sailormen, sir.”

  “They could indeed, Kavanagh, and nothing to be done for them. Better we should move on.”

  “Has nothing been proposed to the Emperor regarding English slaves, Mr Deptford?”

  “At intervals he is petitioned on the matter, Sir Frederick. There have been several occasions on which he has arranged for ship’s crews to be released into our hands, and elderly slaves are commonly sold cheaply to me or another of the merchants trading with the fleet. He is not deeply concerned about their fate but accepts that we are concerned and he will do a little as a courtesy to us. Many of the English visitors leave money with me for the purchase of English or Americans who come to the block in the market.”

  “I will send a note to my bankers to put funds in your hands, Mr Deptford.”

  Deptford bowed his acknowledgment of Frederick’s generosity.

  The official ceremony was not unlike the levee; indeed if one was to imagine the Berbers in their finery as cavalry officers then the similarities were striking. The great of the Empire displayed themselves on a raised platform; privileged onlookers strode in the body of the vast salon and those who were to be presented were ushered in from one side. There was a slight difference inasmuch that many of the officials, the staff organising the affair, were eunuchs, but Frederick reflected that they would not have seemed too much out of place among the public servants in Whiteha
ll.

  He was identified – not a difficult process in his uniform – and led to the front of the waiting line and then placed before a gentleman of obvious importance. The functionary was dressed as a scholar in white robes, but the cloth was of the finest quality, far too rich for a mere man of learning, and he wore a number of discreetly placed jewels, all of them large and very costly; he spoke a few words to Deptford, stood in a position of inferiority as interpreter.

  “You are welcome here, Captain Sir Frederick, fresh from your battle against the warships of Spain.”

  Frederick responded with the little speech written for him, which he had memorised most carefully. He was honoured, he said, to be recognised in the Empire and by one of its great men. He was but a warrior and of slight learning, but he had nothing but respect for the written word. He conveyed the respects and friendship of King George, recently recovered from illness and leading his country again.

  The great sympathy of the Emperor for the King in his affliction was conveyed to Frederick; he promised to pass the valued words to his lord.

  Surprisingly, the minister then enquired whether Frederick was to serve longer in the Mediterranean; did he expect to sail against the Barbary corsairs of Algiers and Tripoli, for example?

  Frederick replied cautiously that he was to obey the orders given him by his admiral, but that he had greater expectation of cruising the Spanish and French coasts than of working the shores of North Africa.

  The audience ended and Frederick retired from the presence, circulating in the main part of the great hall for a few minutes, exchanging polite but silent bows with chieftains assembled there. A number stared appraisingly at the diamond he wore, recognising its origin. He withdrew at the nod from Deptford, bowing properly and deeply at the door as he left.