by Wilbur Smith
‘Good!’ Grey declared. ‘I mean, I am sure your ship will be in all respects ready for sea by that time.’
Hal smiled pleasantly and thought, And, unless I am very much mistaken, your business partner Jangiri will by that time be ready to greet us and give us a rousing welcome as soon as we enter the Mozambique Channel again.
Grey gestured to the slave-girls to refill the coffee thimbles. ‘Apart from ship’s stores, I am able to offer you other items for your personal profit – goods that will be worth three and four times the purchase price once you reach England again. Would that interest you, Captain?’
‘Despite the decrees of John Company against private trade, I believe every man is entitled to the fruits of his own labour and ingenuity,’ Hal replied.
Grey nodded enthusiastically. ‘My view entirely. I have a dozen slaves in my own barracoon of such quality as is seldom seen in the souk.’ He leaned forward and winked at Hal in such a suggestive, obscene fashion that Hal had to force himself not to show his disgust by either gesture or expression. ‘In fact, I might bring myself to part with one or both of my special treasures.’ He stroked the head of the girl who knelt in front of him, then smiled at her lovingly and said in Arabic, ‘Smile at the infidel pig!’ The girl looked up sideways at Hal and showed small white teeth in a shy smile. ‘Is she not a beauty?’ Grey asked. ‘And well worth a hundred and fifty pounds at Good Hope. I can let you have her, as a favour, you understand, for seventy.’ He caressed the girl again. ‘Show the infidel your tits,’ he ordered in Arabic. The girl hesitated. ‘Show him, or I will have the skin whipped off your back.’ She was hardly more than a child, not above sixteen years, but she raised the hem of her blouse and displayed one half-ripe brown breast, tipped with a nipple like a black pearl, at the same time hanging her head modestly. ‘Her more intimate parts are of equal perfection, should you wish to examine them,’ Grey assured him.
‘She is beautiful. But, alas, I have no accommodation for her aboard,’ Hal said firmly, and the girl covered her bosom.
Grey was not deterred by this refusal. ‘I have a quantity of frankincense, of the very finest quality,’ he said. ‘I assure you it is very much in demand. You cannot but make a handsome profit upon it.’
Hal knew that if he were to remain on civil terms with Grey, it would be politic to avail himself of at least one of the man’s offerings. He haggled for ten baskets of frankincense, a total weight of one hundred and fifty pounds.
Grey’s slaves carried in the baskets and set them in a row down the centre of the courtyard while Hal examined the contents. He knew that this aromatic gum came from trees in the African mountains. The trunks were deeply incised, and the sap that oozed from the wounds hardened when it was exposed to the air. After four months the gum formed into large gemlike globules, which could then be scraped off. This first milking of the sap produced a gum of a semi-opaque greenish hue, which bespoke its superior quality. Hal checked the offerings for these characteristics and affirmed his acceptance.
Grey seemed impressed with his knowledge. ‘I can see you’re a gentleman of taste and discernment, Captain. A pair of ivory elephant tusks arrived in the Zanzibar market recently, such as I have never seen in all my years on the island. I would hesitate to offer them to any but a gentleman of your quality, sir.’ He clapped his hands, and five hefty male slaves, who must have been waiting for the order, staggered in under the weight of one of the great tusks.
‘Ten feet in length!’ Grey told Hal proudly. ‘Two hundred and five pounds in weight!’ It was an incredible shaft of curved ivory. The butt, which had been buried in the beast’s skull, was creamy white, while the rest was stained yellow brown by the sap of the great trees that it had shattered and stripped of their bark. When the slaves laid the twin beside it, it was almost impossible to tell the two tusks apart, so perfectly were they matched.
Hal had been fascinated by the monstrous pachyderms since he had first laid eyes on a herd of them on the wild African shores. Then he had been a lad of around Tom’s age. He stroked one of the tusks. He seemed to be touching the very soul of that immense, savage continent. He knew that he had to have this pair at any price. Grey recognized the longing in his eyes and drove a hard bargain. Hal paid more for them than he would have for a dozen slave-girls.
Later, when the tusks were swung up onto the Seraph’s deck to lie there gleaming like ancient amber in the sunlight, Hal knew that he had made the best of the bargain. In his old age, in the depths of an English winter, when the final chill crept into his bones, he would need only to stretch out his hand to touch his Africa and be transported back to an age and place where he was young again, with all the wonder and fire of that land still in his breast.
He stood, almost reverently, looking down at the magnificent pair. His sons came to stand on either side of him. Even Dorian was silent and awed, the same spell held them all. When Tom spoke at last his voice was almost inaudible. ‘They’re so big,’ he whispered. ‘One day I would like to hunt a creature such as this must have been.’
Hal made a lengthy show of repairing the Seraph. He wanted to give the news of his presence in Zanzibar an opportunity to filter down the islands and to seep along the Fever Coast until it reached the ear of Jangiri, wherever he might be. Then it would take time for the corsair to rally his forces and deploy them in ambush in the channel. Hal was certain that even Jangiri would never attempt to cut out the Seraph while she lay at moorings in the harbour. He was, after all, the guest of the Sultan and under his protection.
Hal understood the teachings of the Prophet well, and he knew that in the world of Islam there was a duty on the host, a burden of honour, that the Sultan would not allow any of his subjects to flout. Once the Seraph was on the open sea, though, she would become fair game once more, and the Sultan would probably accept his share of the booty without the least qualm.
Another consideration that Hal had to take into account was the progress of the Yeoman of York under Captain Edward Anderson, and when his arrival at the rendezvous might reasonably be expected. Hal was more than willing to face Jangiri in a single-ship action upon the open sea but he was certain that once he had sniffed out the corsair’s land base, he would find it heavily fortified and garrisoned: he knew he would need every man and ship available to storm and seize it.
If Edward Anderson had left Good Hope a week after the Seraph, then he would probably have missed the worst of the great storm, and the high winds that were its aftermath would have hastened him on the voyage to Bombay. They stood now at the change of the seasons. Soon the monsoon would swing about and aid Anderson on his return voyage to the African coast. Nevertheless, it would be many more weeks before Hal could expect him to reach the rendezvous. No, indeed, there was no great hurry.
In a leisurely fashion the crew of the Seraph began the long business of swinging the upper yards and spars aloft and reseating them at the masthead, while the carpenters went through the motions of repairing and repainting the hull.
A week after his visit to the British consul, Hal sent Aboli ashore to make some purchases in the souk. That evening he called Tom and Dorian to his cabin. Both boys had pestered him to be allowed to go ashore whenever a boat put off for the quay. Their high spirits, too long contained, had led them lately into some dangerous pranks and it would be as well for them to have a run off the ship to rid themselves of this pent-up mischief. ‘Aboli and I are going ashore this evening to listen to the gossip in the streets and marketplaces of the town,’ he said. ‘I am in need of a pair of slave-boys to attend me.’ He spoke in Arabic, and smiled when Tom entered into the spirit of the occasion and replied in the same language.
‘Revered Father, you would do me great honour if we were to be allowed to accompany you.’
Hal corrected his mistakes, but he was gratified by the progress the lad had made. Of course, he could not yet pass as a native of Arabia but he would be able to make himself understood in most company. He glanced at Dorian. ‘What do
es my youngest son have to say on the matter?’
Dorian made a respectful obeisance. ‘Beloved Father, for such kindness my gratitude would spring forth like sweet water from a desert fountain.’
‘I have sired a veritable poet!’ Hal laughed. Dorian’s Arabic was far superior to that of his elder brother. His vocabulary was impressive, and of exactly the type a true Arab would use in similar circumstances. ‘Aboli has purchased clothing for both of you. Be ready to come with me after you have eaten your dinner.’
Hal wore the long ankle-length robe and sandals Aboli had bought for him. His wide belt was of gold filigree with a curved dagger in its sheath over his stomach. The handle of the weapon was of rhinoceros horn, polished like opaque yellow agate. His waistcoat was embroidered with gold and silver thread, and his turban was black. With his thick black moustache, his beaked nose and his skin tanned the colour of oiled teak, he looked like a prosperous dhow captain, perhaps a slaver or a Red Sea rover. He took the precaution of slipping the brace of double-barrelled pistols into the gold belt, under the tail of his waistcoat.
The skin of both boys was also so sun-darkened that they needed no stain, and their headcloths covered their hair. Dorian’s eyes were of such a startling green that they stood out against his coppery gold skin, but many of the Pathan tribes from the north of India had fair skins and pale eyes.
After dark they went down into the longboat and, rather than disembarking at the stone quay of the harbour, Hal steered around the breakwater to land on a quiet beach a mile from the town. He left the boat in the charge of Big Daniel, and they followed the well-used track into the town.
The town was without walls and the narrow streets unlit, except for an occasional lamp beam from an upstairs window, so they had no difficulty in entering unremarked. When they reached the main souk they found most of the stalls and small shops still open for business. Hal chose the shop of a rug-seller he had noticed on his last visit to Consul Grey. Some of the carpets in it were of beautiful design and texture. The proprietor, whose name was Salim bin-Talf, welcomed him effusively, seated him on a carpet of lustrous silk and offered him thick sweet coffee, flavoured with cardamom. Aboli and the two slave-boys sat well back in the shadows and, following Hal’s instructions, maintained a respectful silence throughout the evening.
‘So what is the news, effendi?’ Bin-Talf asked the ritual question of Hal.
‘The news is good,’ Hal told him. He would have given the customary reply if he had just been robbed of all his worldly possessions, if all his wives had been raped, and if his eldest son had died of a snake-bite. ‘What of your news?’
‘My news is also good.’ They sipped coffee and, as they chatted, three or four of bin-Talf’s family and friends, drawn by the presence of a stranger in their midst, came to join the circle. Slowly, and with due regard to manners and protocol, the questions were asked and the true state of affairs discussed.
‘Your speech is not of the north, effendi?’ They had picked out his accent.
‘I am from Morbi in Gujarat, in the empire of the Great Mogul. My ship lies in the harbour.’ He had studied a number of the sea-going dhows anchored close to the Seraph so that he could give a description to satisfy his listeners. ‘I have come to buy slaves and trade goods in the souks of Zanzibar and Lamu.’
‘And how is it in your land?’
‘The tribes of Marathas and the Sikhs are in revolt against the Emperor, but with God’s help he will defeat them.’
‘By God’s grace!’
‘In this sailing season his eldest son, Asaf Khan, will make the pilgrimage to Mecca, with a fleet of a hundred ships.’
‘Praise be to God!’
‘There is but one God.’
All this was news that Hal had gathered while in Good Hope, but its authenticity confirmed his identity to bin-Talf and his party. They became more friendly and relaxed, the conversation flowed freely. Hal haggled genteelly for a magnificent silk carpet from Persia, and when he paid with gold mohurs, coins of fifteen rupees’ value, the warmth of the vendors was unreserved.
‘Have you seen the English ship in the harbour?’ a cousin of bin-Talf asked. ‘The one with the black hull anchored at the far end of the breakwater?’
‘My own ship is anchored close by the Englishman. She seems to have been damaged, for her crew work upon her masts.’
‘They say it happened in the great storm last month.’
‘I also encountered the same storm but, by God’s grace, we survived its fury.’
‘Thanks be to God!’
‘They say that the English ship is outward-bound from your country, from Bombay in the kingdom of the Great Mogul.’ Bin-Talf glanced around to make certain there were no spies to overhear him. ‘She carries a vast treasure to a king of Franks from the Mogul.’
‘I too have heard of this treasure.’ It took an effort for Hal to repress his smile. ‘There was much talk of it when I left Allahabad.’ He also lowered his voice. ‘They say it is a treasure of diamonds worth twenty lakhs.’
‘Nay!’ whispered the cousin excitedly, ‘I heard it was emeralds and that it was worth fifty lakhs. They say the Great Mogul has emptied his treasury.’
‘Truly it must be one of the greatest treasures the world has ever seen,’ Hal breathed in awe. ‘And now it lies here among us. I should like to lay my eyes upon such a treasure.’
They were all silent as they considered the possibilities that Hal’s words presented. Their eyes sparkled with greed as they thought about it.
‘I should like to hold such a treasure in my hand,’ said bin-Talf at last. ‘Just to be able to boast to my grandchildren that I had done so.’ His cousin laughed spitefully. ‘Al-Auf would take it from your hand, cousin.’
They all laughed then, and another said, ‘Al-Auf would take your hand also.’
‘By God, that is the truth.’
‘True! True!’ They laughed without restraint.
‘Who is this Bad One?’ Hal asked innocently, for that was the meaning of al-Auf.
‘You are a seafarer and you have not heard of him?’ bin-Talf marvelled. ‘I thought every sailor must tremble at that name.’
‘I am an ignorant one from a far country,’ Hal admitted.
‘Musallim bin-Jangiri, the scourge of the infidel and the Sword of Islam. That is al-Auf, the Bad One.’
Hal felt his pulse throb at the name, but he kept his expression neutral and stroked his chin thoughtfully.
‘Al-Auf is then a corsair?’ he asked.
‘He is the father and mother of all corsairs.’ Bin-Talf smiled.
‘He sounds like one who should be avoided. But where would a man find al-Auf, if he were stupid enough to seek him out?’
Bin-Talf chuckled, and took a long pull on his hookah pipe. The water bubbled in the bowl and the musky bhang smoke streamed from his lips. ‘You are right, effendi. Only a madman would wish to seek out al-Auf. But if you can fathom the track of the tiger shark across the ocean, then you will know where to look for his ship. If you know where the sea mist rises, then you may discern the shadow of his black sails.’
‘He sounds like a djinn, a spirit of the sea, and not a man of flesh and blood,’ Hal said.
‘He is a man indeed. For I have seen him with my own eyes,’ boasted the cousin.
‘Where did you see him? What is he like?’
‘I saw him at Lamu. He was in the harbour there in his ship. I saw him on the deck. He has the proud mien and the bold eye of a hero of old, a mighty man and terrible to look upon.’
‘How was his ship?’ Hal knew that any description of Jangiri would be coloured brightly with blind terror and unlikely to bear much resemblance to the man. He had better prospects of an accurate description of his ship.
‘Strange to tell, it is not a dhow, as you might expect. It is a Frankish ship, with many sails,’ said the cousin. ‘But the sails are black.’
‘A ship like the English ship in the harbour?’ Hal asked.
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‘Yes! Yes! Like that but much bigger and with many more guns.’
This must surely be the captured Minotaur they had seen, Hal thought. ‘How many guns?’ he enquired.
‘Many! Perhaps a hundred,’ the cousin hazarded. Clearly he was no seaman and the question had no significance to him. ‘If the English ship ever meets al-Auf, then her infidel crew must look to Allah for mercy, for they will receive none from al-Auf.’
Soon afterwards, Hal made his farewells, and left with Aboli and the boys.
When they rowed back to the Seraph, he sat alone in the stern and listened with half an ear to Tom and Dorian chatting excitedly to Big Daniel and Alf, relating in detail all they had seen and heard in the port. He was satisfied with the results of the visit. He had told nobody but Consul Grey of the putative Mogul treasure, and yet it was common talk in the souk. By now the news must have reached the ears of the corsair.
The Seraph lingered another three weeks at her moorings in the harbour, then Hal paid a final call on the consul. After all the flowery compliments and greetings had been exchanged, Hal told him, ‘I have at last completed the repairs to my ship, and I am once again ready for sea.’
‘When do you plan to sail?’ Grey hauled his great bulk into a sitting position, and peered at Hal with interest.
‘In three days’ time, with the morning ebb.’
‘Although I have been honoured by your presence in my house, I understand your eagerness to recommence your interrupted voyage. Especially in view of the fact that you carry such precious cargo. I can only wish you fair winds and God speed.’ He showed not the least interest in delaying Hal’s departure – rather, he seemed anxious to see him on his way. To Hal, this meant only one thing: Jangiri – al-Auf – had been summoned and must even now be lying in ambush in the Mozambique Channel.
The last three days in Zanzibar harbour were spent in the final preparations for battle. Big Daniel supervised the loading of the cannon with fresh charges, and the silk ready bags in the magazine were filled and placed at the gun stations. Aboli saw that all the muskets and pistols were fitted with new flints, and fully loaded. The whetstones whirred and sparks flew as the cutlass blades were sharpened to a razor edge, and the points of the pikes were whetted by hand. Yet all this warlike activity was hidden carefully from any spy on the quay or on the battlements of the fort.