Hashish: A Smuggler's Tale (17 page)

When I arrived to windward of the island, the last glimmer of twilight enabled me to make out its lofty tower built at the foot of the mountain, some sixty feet above sea-level. Nearby was the little square house where the keeper lived, and when I looked through my telescope I saw a man watching us through his. This hermit, tucked away on his solitary rock, takes an interest in everything that appears on the surface of the sea, just as sailors do during a long voyage. A little below the house was a small wooden platform built out over the sea. Probably this was the landing-stage where the ship which brought the keeper’s stores anchored. The native sailors recount a story that there are seals living round this islet, and some of them declare that they have seen the females suckling their young. Perhaps what they have seen are sea cows, strange-looking creatures with vaguely human busts, which haunt these seas, and round which the mariners of old wove the first legends of mermaids.

Mhamed Moussa was telling the others stories which might have come out of the Odyssey, of which, naturally, he had never heard. The ancient legends had been handed down by word of mouth, according to the immortal tradition of the popular story-tellers. The others were drinking in his words with wide-eyed interest, transported into a magic world, their imaginations afire with the wildest dreams. Before this rocky island dimly visible through the gathering darkness, amid the roar of the surf and the eerie cries of the great gulls wheeling in the beams from the turning lantern, these simple stories take on an impressive grandeur which no written word could ever convey. Probably I was affected by the glamorous atmosphere created by this admirable audience, which listened with such avidity to the singing voice of Mhamed Moussa coming out of the darkness.

We had hardly emerged from the shelter of the island when the wind began to blow with renewed fury. The sea poured out of the strait in an impetuous torrent, the great billows tumbling over each other in their haste. I had just time to tack to avoid breaking the mast, yard and bowsprit. I had been expecting bad weather, but not this tumultuous, raging sea, in which it was impossible for a little ship to live. I went back into the shelter of the island. In the darkness there was only one hope – to find the little landing stage and moor the
boutre
there. But now the night was very black. Before me, on the island side, was a thick curtain of obscurity into which the red lamp of the lighthouse shot out its fiery rays, all sparkling with tiny stars, which were the white wings of the seagulls thrown for a second into dazzling relief. In these circumstances it was impossible to judge distances, but as I knew the coast was very steep I approached without fear in search of the wharf which would save us. Kadigeta, the lynx-eyed young Dankali, lay in the prow trying to pierce the darkness.

At last we saw it before us. We ran down the sails and let the
boutre
carry her way. Abdi dived with the end of a rope in one hand and swam like a porpoise towards the land, while we payed out the cable. He vanished instantly into the night, while the rope continued to run out. From a long way off we heard his voice calling that he had not reached land yet, and the coil of rope was finished. We had to pull it all in again with him at the end of it. During this time we had drifted, and a current was now bearing us rapidly away from the island. We were already so
far away that it no longer sheltered us from the wind which started driving us out to sea. We could hardly see the island, having now come into the zone where the red glare of the lantern beams enveloped us as they touched the water. The current must have been swift indeed to have pushed us so far in such a short time. We had to try at all costs to get back to the island, otherwise the sea would carry us off like a piece of driftwood on a river towards the south.

It was new moon, the season of high tides, and I must have arrived just at the moment of the ebb. We crowded on sail and started tacking to regain the miles we had lost. At regular intervals the sails were lit up by the red ray which passed over us. Then little by little as we won our way back, the beam only gleamed on the top of the white triangle of canvas; then we remained wholly in the shadow while the rays passed over our heads, carrying their comforting message to sailors away on the horizon. I wondered if we would be lucky enough to strike the exact spot where the wooden jetty was built. That was the whole question. We had to lower the sails as we got near the mountains, because of the puffs of wind that fell from them in sudden gusts and also because of the eddies. We should have to approach at a good speed, then lower the sails at the last possible moment and let the
boutre
carry her way, in order to strike the wharf. But to carry out this manoeuvre successfully, it was necessary to know exactly at what point we wanted to touch land, and in this obscurity we could not see twenty yards ahead.

I leaned over the helm, gnawing my nails with anxiety, my eyes fixed on this threatening darkness. Suddenly I saw a little, twinkling star appear a little above sea-level, some distance from the red globe of the lighthouse lamp. It waved slowly up and down and I realized that it was a lantern carried by somebody on foot. It moved slowly along, sometimes disappearing behind the rocks. Then it remained stationary. It was undoubtedly a signal meant for us. Probably the lighthouse-keeper had been watching our manoeuvres. This unexpected assistance cheered us up, and for another hour we tacked towards the light. But as I did not know how powerful it was, I could not estimate our distance from it, and though it glimmered feebly enough, it was sufficient to dazzle us and make the surrounding darkness still blacker. I thought I was still a long way off when I suddenly saw its reflection on the choppy water, and realized that the wharf was only twenty yards away. I had just time to
lower the sails before we were right in under the wooden erection covered with seaweed. The tide was out.

A man was crouching on the little platform ready to seize the rope we slung him. He moored us solidly and called out ‘All right.’ Then before I had time to collect my thoughts, he had taken his lantern and started back up the mountain-side, like a peaceful citizen going home to bed. As he went he threw me a cordial ‘Good night.’ The wind began to try to push us out to sea again, but this time there was nothing to fear – we were securely fastened. I watched the light going up the mountain-side and vanishing. The man had entered his house. Another type of Englishman, this good fellow… a hermit and a sailor.

Even if the position we were in had allowed us to sleep, the deafening noise made by the screaming seagulls wheeling unceasingly in the rays of the lantern would have kept us from closing an eye. I was afraid, too, that the currents would be reversed when the tide changed. In that case nothing could save us from going on the rocks. I could not see them, but I could hear the wind whistling through their crannies, and the suction of the air when the swell penetrated into them, then the heavy crashes of the waves dashing against them, followed by streaming and spraying. My men were very uneasy. In vain I explained to them that all these strange sounds were produced by the force of the water in the hollows; they were sure that there were seals and other sea-monsters concealed there. Abdi said he had seen one holding our mooring-rope between his teeth, and he was certain that it was these monsters who kept trying to push the ship out to sea. All this, accompanied by the most terrifying details. I could understand their condition of mind very well, for I myself was so influenced by the strangeness of this place that all the stories I had heard haunted my mind, and if I had been obliged to dive down into this black water, I could not have done it without a shiver of fear. I rather enjoyed being in the grip of this vague superstitious fear, for in spite of science and learning, the human soul has a natural thirst for the marvellous and the unknown.

Towards morning the rope which attached us to the jetty, which had been kept taut by the wind constantly driving us away from land, slackened and the ship stopped swinging. As I had feared, the current had begun to flow in the contrary direction. I should have liked to go and thank the Englishman who had saved us, but I felt that it would be
imprudent to wait here any longer. This time the strait seemed calmer. In these regions the aspect of the sea changes with disconcerting rapidity. We went up the channel in a long tack, making good progress; in the morning we had passed the northern point of the island and on the starboard tack I ventured in among the reefs of the inner sea which stretches to the north-west. There I could work profitably to windward in these waters which are always calm, despite the strong breeze blowing.

I wanted to gain the shelter of the southern part of the big island of Jubal before night fell. At the point which was marked as anchorage on my chart I saw with disgust that there was a cluster of buildings, but, though I scanned the spot most carefully through my telescope, I could not see any signs of inhabitants; everything looked deserted. I anchored in front of a pretty beach all littered with machinery of all kinds, elevators, cranes and so on.

We went ashore. The first thing we noted was that there was no trace of footprints in the sand, which was as smooth or as ridged by the wind as in the most deserted islands of the Red Sea. I saw a big building the door of which stood wide open. I went into an engine-room containing a horizontal diesel engine. A workman’s bench and all the usual tools were lying about as if the workmen had just gone home to dinner, but everything was thickly covered with dust, and the machinery was all festooned with spiders’ webs. Outside, compound tackle was hung on lifting-jacks complete with chains, and a half-full barrel of oil stood with closed tap.

I could not believe my eyes. No doubt a watchman would soon be appearing. I fired off a shot to attract his attention and sent a man up to the higher ground to inspect the surroundings. But he could see nobody, and my shot remained unanswered. The island was deserted all right; everything looked as if it had been abandoned suddenly. I was strongly
tempted to lay hands on all this material left only in the charge of God, and the pillaging instincts of my sailors, accustomed to stripping wrecks, were strongly excited at the sight of all this tempting booty. I had some difficulty in making them see reason. My virtuous remonstrances were not at all dictated by a lofty moral sense; I should have laid hands on all this treasure trove without the slightest scruple, if only to wreak vengeance on the two English engineers for their reception, had I not realized how impossible it would be for me to put in at Suez with such an odd cargo, so little compatible with my alleged business of pearl fishing. This eccentricity would inevitably have drawn upon me an attention I was far from desiring. I therefore contented myself with taking a few tools, which are always useful, and various bits of wood which might come in handy for repairs. I was obliged to promise my men that we would stop here on our way home, and if the legal owner had not come to claim his property, to allow them to load it on the
boutre
. There was an assortment of copper plates which so tempted them that I had great difficulty in preventing them from carrying them on board at once. The most valuable discovery we made was that of several barrels of fresh water, and on them we pounced with considerable satisfaction.

We went off before dawn. The wind was not yet violent, and after a three hours’ tack we reached the edge of the reef of Schab-Ali which runs along the coast of Asia for about twenty miles, eight miles from the shore. This reef was formed of a series of madreporic tables joined together by rocky spikes between which there was no clear passage. Behind this barrier, on which the waves broke, was a little inner sea of calm and limpid blue water, in which ships of small tonnage could come round the most violent head winds. In this sheltered zone other beds of madrepores show their wide yellow patches just under the surface. At this season, when the Red Sea was at its lowest level, there was very little water covering the reefs, and at low tide some of the rocks and tables emerged completely. There were generally sea eagles perched on them, which gave an appearance of lively animation to these strange silhouettes. We went into this inner sea by a narrow opening in the southern extremity of the reef. The wreck of a steamer was spitted on the rocks, so perfectly preserved that for a moment we had the illusion of having arrived just after the disaster had taken place. Two enormous herons had taken up their abode on the deck of the wreck, and were
walking about with great dignity; from a distance we thought they were men. As we came nearer they flew heavily away, followed by a whole flock of screaming birds.

I had to yield to the prayers of the crew and go and inspect these sad remains more closely, for Mhamed Moussa and Abdi came from Cape Gardafui, notorious for the number of wrecks which take place every year, and flotsam and jetsam had an irresistible attraction for them.

In reality this ship had been abandoned for many years. Every part of it was eaten away by salt and burned by the sun. All that remained was the shell, held together by the reefs which surrounded it on all sides, giving an appearance of life to this rusty phantom by preventing the waves from breaking it up. No doubt in a night of fog, that fog which consists of sand blown from the desert by the west winds, they had not seen the lighthouse on Chadwan, and driven out of their course by the violence of the wind, had run in here between the reef and the mainland, and only realized their error when they ran aground. I was always saddened by the sight of those dead ships, those corpses which remained upright as long as they could and seemed to struggle desperately not to go under and disappear entirely from the eyes of men, but to stay there as a warning to others. In the empty hold, through which the waves washed with curious sucking noises, in the dismantled alleyways, everywhere ghosts seemed to flit about. Firan found some bones in the fo’c’sle. Much moved, we all ran up to see them. They were the bones of a dog, or of a bitch rather, for in a corner we picked up two tiny skulls and fragments of bones broken up by the birds of prey. I imagined the death of this poor beast, which had remained alone on the wreck, unwilling to abandon her little ones which she had hidden in a comer known only to herself, where she had put them when the water had begun to fill the ship. It was strange to find these bleached bones after so many years, these touching skeletons which had remained to tell their sad story.