Hashish: A Smuggler's Tale (33 page)

I wanted to play my role of tourist conscientiously, so I went to see the Pyramids. What a disappointment they were to me; I thought that the majesty of the desert completely overwhelmed them. The only thing one might possibly admire is the stupendous human effort it must have been to build them, and this sort of admiration demands the mentality of a German tourist. The smallest hill which rises in the solitude of the desert is more grandiose than those geometrical volumes surrounded by cafés, photographers’ booths and imitation caravans, with black-coated clergymen perched on camels. The sphinx is lamentable. Nose in air and mouth wide open, it seems to be listening to the droning of the guide. A
Hen Doktor
from some obscure university north of the fiftieth parallel was writing postcards to his students on the monster’s paw, while his family opened tins of sardines, dreaming dutifully of the forty centuries which contemplated them.

I fled in disgust as if I had been present at some sacrilegious act, and suddenly I was homesick, terribly homesick for the real desert. I longed feverishly to be back on the deck of my ship, to be pacing those few square feet of wooden planks, which were sometimes burning and sometimes streaming with spray, but which were to me the magic carpet of the Arab legend, which had transported me to enchanted countries which never change, where I had tasted the joy of believing that time and death did not exist. They represented the sea, the wind, the virgin sand of the desert, the infinity of far-off skies in which wheel the numberless hosts of the stars. And nothing between me and all those things, nothing to diminish their grandeur and interrupt the dream in which I become one with them.

With my mind full of such visions, I got into the train for Suez. It was full of tobacco smoke, lit by pallid lamps, and full of unknown people with dreary faces, who read newspapers, played cards, discussed the market prices or slept stupidly with open mouths. I took refuge in the corridor and thrust my head out into the darkness. The clamour of insects rose from the warm sand into the calm air. But the blind rush of the train destroyed the serenity of the tropical night, raising a whistling wind which sang past my ears. The plumes of smoke from the engine, the clouds of dust we stirred up on our passage, and the lofty palms which rose between the dunes flitted across the sky like mad ghosts. At last we reached Suez. Soon I saw my
boutre
lying asleep in the roads. A familiar voice replied to my hail and the
pirogue
came towards me. I made prodigious efforts to get off next day. The consul informed me that the English could not allow me to fish for mother-of-pearl in the Gulf, alleging that some investigation must be made. All right, I wouldn’t fish for mother-of-pearl. At six o’clock everything was ready at last. I had said good-bye to the consul, to Spiro and to the agent of the Messageries Maritimes. I had my sailing papers in my pocket.

I had still time to take farewell of Stavro. I had to accept a last dinner in the room of the bark, the icon and the old rifle of the warrior chief. This time there was no reason to fight shy of the Samian wine, and its warmth lent an agreeable cordiality to this final
tête-à-tête.

‘When will you be back, that’s the important question?’ asked Stavro.

‘Heaven alone can tell, since Gorgis informs me that the new Greek Government are banning the cultivation of hemp.’

‘Yes, I know; it will probably be enforced, since it is the English who
have brought about this decision. This law will ruin a considerable number of people in spite of the indemnities paid, and I’m afraid will lead to trouble. It’s a sure thing that it isn’t the Greek Government which is paying these indemnities. It is too poor in the first place, and, like all governments, most unwilling to shell out money.’

‘That’s a funny thing,’ I replied. ‘If the English are sowing drachmae in Greece, it is probably in order to reap pounds sterling elsewhere. They have probably some interest in preventing your country from producing hashish. The question of morality is only the classic excuse, most valuable as an argument, since it is unanswerable. These high principles did not prevent the English from methodically poisoning a magnificent race, the Red Indians, with alcohol in order to seize their country. The same clergymen who are today declaiming in America against the sale of intoxicating liquor lavished the deadly fire-water on the natives, accompanied, it is true, by Bibles and sermons. Their bodies were killed in the name of the Great Nation, but their souls were saved in the name of the Lord, so John Citizen’s conscience was clear. I’m only mentioning all this to indicate the importance which must be given to philanthropic movements on the part of governments. Anyhow, I don’t blame the English for killing the Red Indians as they did. Since they had to be killed, it was preferable to do it painlessly by selling death by the glass. You see how natural it is to suspect that the English have a commercial interest in stopping the Greeks from growing hemp. Hashish must exist in one of their colonies.’

‘You open my eyes,’ said Stavro; ‘two or three times already my native agents have sent me samples of hashish they had bought from the crews of English ships.’

‘Where had the ships come from?’

‘From Bombay. I have been told that this product, which is much dearer than Greek hashish, is sold in India in special shops which have a licence.’

‘Something like our monopoly of opium in Indo-China, very likely,’ I replied. ‘On the pretext of not depriving the native population of the opium to which they had been accustomed for centuries, we sell them the poison at a hundred times its value.’

‘You may be right, for the sepoys in the barracks at Ismaïla smoke a sort of hashish which is regularly distributed to them every week. It
would be interesting to study the question. You should go and find out, since you are on the way to India.’

‘We’ll see about that later on. Meantime, I’d be glad if you will keep me posted on any information you may get on the subject.’

To tell the truth, I wasn’t over-keen to mix myself up again in this business. To be successful in it, I was obliged to rub shoulders with people whose mentality was too different from mine, people who only thought of gain. It had been interesting to discover these circles, but now it held nothing new for me, so why recommence? This is how my thoughts ran, and what a greenhorn I was. I had not seen the hundredth part of all this underhand trafficking; I still had practically everything to learn about the stupendous secret organizations which controlled the smuggling of the drug in Egypt. Besides, though I did not know it, I had been sucked into the whirlpool. After the dangerous play and emotions of this struggle, it was going to be very difficult to settle down to humdrum coasting. To do this one has to be a wise old philosopher who has seen through the vanity of everything, but at this moment I was only thirty-eight.

This time it was good-bye to Suez and its customs officers and frontier guards. It was good-bye also to the terrible north wind which had eternally barred my route. It now became the kindest of following winds before which my
boutre
slid gaily along over the foaming water. Already the mountain of Ataka had faded into the darkness, and only the reflection of the lights of Suez was visible in the sky, every moment growing fainter and being replaced by the stars. The sea sang and chuckled under the stem which cut through the dancing water, seeming to bear me along in a crazy dance of joy. I listened to it with great happiness, and I am sure my men felt the same sentiment, although they could not analyse it, for not one of them thought of going to sleep; all in silence watched the sea and the stars wheeling in the sky.

But nothing endures, especially for the sailor who dares to rejoice in fine weather. The
boutre
began to pitch heavily, throwing up billows of foam, on the long southern swell which attacked her on the prow. It churned up the waves which bore us along into breakers which were sinister heralds of the bad weather into which we were running. Then the north wind slackened, blew fitfully, with less and less force, and died away. The silent swell passed under us in a dead calm, but the wind which had formed it was not long in arriving. The sails shook; we had to hoist home the sheet so as not to go too much off our route; a few preliminary gusts, then the south-east wind settled down to blow with all the violence the swell had led us to fear.

I had our mainsail changed for a smaller one, in view of bad weather, and it was not long in coming, for the wind was rapidly increasing to a gale. In my outward voyage I should gladly have sold my soul to the devil for forty-eight hours of this wind, but the wind had blown persistently from the north, and now that a north wind would suit me it blew from the opposite direction. It really did not matter very much, for my mission was over, and this weather was most exceptional in these parts, and could not last more than a day or two. But if the south-east winds are rare in the Gulf of Suez, when they do blow it is with the violence of a tempest. In less than an hour there was a raging sea, with huge, choppy waves. Luckily, less than twenty-four hours had passed since our departure when the storm struck us, and the sun was still shining in a clear sky. I had no illusions as to what the coming night would be, however; I knew that the tempest would be extremely violent. It was no good lying-to; I preferred to go and seek the shelter of the coast, behind Ras Abu Diraj. A single tack brought me to it.

It was a desolate and arid district, a luminous symphony of golden tones, but deprived of its only grandeur, that of solitude, by the telegraph wires which ran along the coast. This completely broke the spell, and I saw nothing but a monotonous and soulless country, which might have been carved out of concrete. The narrow beach which separated the sea from the rocky desert was edged with strange vegetation. Through my glasses I could make out heaps of the most varied flotsam and jetsam. What a find for us, since we were forced to remain there in idleness waiting for the turn of the wind. We were all on fire to go and examine these wonders more closely. The currents of the Gulf, helped by the
north wind, seemed to have thrown up here everything that would float on water.

On the edge of the desert, in front of those arid mountains with their waterless ravines, in this dried-up world so indifferent to life, these poor relics might have stood for the sad image of the fate in store for everything made by the hand of man, contrasted with changeless nature, and the vanity of his bustlings to and fro. We found all sorts of things: brooms, towel-rails, bits of broken furniture, mats and heaps of empty cases. Some came from Japan, others from Norway, Constantinople, Marseilles, Australia and Canada, indeed from every part of the globe. The oldest, which had been pushed into the background, as it were, by the later arrivals, were falling into dust. They had become anonymous, restored to their primitive form; they were becoming part of the desert and entering into eternity. On the contrary, those the sea had just deposited on the sand and which were wet each day by the tides, shone in the sun like new wood, and proudly stood out for what they were. The glories of the firm of Smith and Company shone in the sun in imperative and arrogant letters which seemed to want to impress their importance on this strange and indifferent place where everything was ignorant of existence. Little by little those glittering letters would become dim, as if the packing-case lost its illusions; it would sink back into simple spars of poor and lifeless wood, which nevertheless still recalled the tree which had fallen under the axe of men. Then this wood would fall to dust and be borne away by the wind into the desert sand.

And this would be the fate of all the Smiths and Companies in the world and of everything made by man, while these same hills would watch their shadows stretch and shorten in the bottom of their dried-up ravines.

After running for nine days before the wind, we entered the calm waters of the Dahlak Archipelago. I passed the spots where some years before I had served my apprenticeship as a pearl fisher. In the distance were the same silhouettes of the
boutres
of the divers anchored on the green banks between the flat islands. There was the mass of Dahalak Kébir, its low hills rising from the horizon like a group of islets, and I saw dancing in the mirage the oasis where for the first time old Said Ali evoked the marvellous legend of the origin of pearls, drops of dew in which the magic of the moon had put rainbow reflections. As I thought of these old days my heart filled with a regret and nostalgia for the past, which grew as the wireless station of Massawa came into view on the horizon.

I entered the harbour towards the end of the afternoon. Though I was sure there was nothing unpleasant in store for me because of the affair at Takalaï, I couldn’t help feeling a little nervous at the thought of facing the authorities. The askari of the Health Department came for my papers and told me to wait until the doctor came himself to give me permission to land. He made his rounds at eight in the morning, so I had to resign myself to remaining on board till next day.

At daybreak a great liner belonging to the Lloyd Triestino came into port. The monthly call of these great vessels which sail between Trieste and India is a great event for the little seaport. The call serves no useful purpose, but for the glory of Italy the name of the capital of this modest colony has to be included in the ports of call of these mighty ships, which are Italian since Trieste was taken from Austria. The colossus manoeuvred clumsily in the tiny harbour and finally came to rest alongside the quay. It was really too big, and looked as if it had come to amuse children who were playing at having a seaport. While the vessel was settling down into this space, barely sufficient to hold her, her steel wall was towering over me. Away up on the first-class deck I could see a few passengers, in spite of the early hour. They leaned over and looked with interest at my nutshell. I heard someone hail me, and saw a dark-skinned face smiling above a suit of pink pyjamas.