The Hundred Days (27 page)

For most of the next day Stephen and Amos Jacob
rode well ahead of their companions, for not only did they wish to exchange
their impressions of the Dey, which was better done without the confusion of
many voices and the sound of many hooves, butjhey also hoped that by setting a
fine brisk pace they would bring the whole group to the Vizier’s oasis before
nightfall, in spite of having been obliged, by the farewell feast, to start
their journey much later than they had wished.

At one time they thought they might succeed, for
they had already travelled this road - the fact of its being known shortened
it, and there were few fresh wonders to delay them - furthermore, their own
conversation was particularly engrossing. Sometimes, it is true, they discussed
the possible origins of the malformation in the hand that Jacob had brought his
friend: ‘I know that some of Dupuytren’s colleagues have blamed the habitual
use of reins: and perhaps there is something in it,’ observed Jacob.

 ‘Conceivably,’ Stephen replied. ‘Yet it was
never described before Smectymnus; nor does Xenophon speak
of any such complaint; and few men handled reins more than Xenophon.’

‘Well...’ said Jacob: and after a pause in which
his mind clearly drifted to the more immediate subject, ‘You have not yet told
me your opinion of the Dey.’

‘My first impression was that he was a brute, a
mere soldier: a cheerful brute at that moment because he had just succeeded in
some mechanical task, but perfectly capable of turning wicked, very wicked.
Then, when we went down to lie in wait for the lion, his silence and his
steadfast motionless endurance moved my admiration. So did his open, unstinted
praise when I shot the lioness, to say nothing of his steadiness in the uneasy
moments before she charged. I have, as you know very well, some smattering of
Arabic and Turkish, and what he said as he helped me up the slope pleased me
very much. So, to a less degree, did the set piece that you translated: no
common mind, I thought, could have turned it so well. I was left with the
notion of an ideal shootingcompanion, very quiet very knowledgeable, courageous
of course and jovial when joviality was in place: but apart from that, not an
intelligentman. Not positively stupid, like some other
highly-placed soldiers, and probably quite subtle in military politics, but not
in himself particularly interesting, however likeable.’

‘Did the impalements trouble you?’

‘I loathed them with all my soul, although they are
as traditional in some parts as public hanging is in England. But it was not that which
made me doubtful about my first impression: after all, sodomy is a hanging
offence with us and a matter of burning alive with some others, whereas it is a
joke in this country, as it was in ancient Greece. No: after a while I began
to wonder whether the simplicity was quite what it seemed, as well as the
apparently complete division between Dey and Vizier where foreign affairs were
concerned. But you know as well as I do that an excess of mistrust and
suspicion is very widely spread in our calling: it sometimes reaches ludicrous
proportions.’

‘Two of our colleagues in Marseilles were obliged to be shut up
in a mad-house near Aubagne, each convinced that his mistress was poisoning him
for the benefit of a foreign power.’

‘In my case it scarcely warranted chains, a bed of
straw, and flogging, but it went pretty far: when we paused to eat by the
spring I went to my baggage-mule and discovered the Dey’s wonderfully handsome,
wonderfully discreet present, the American rifle that killed the lioness; but
when I had recovered from my astonishment something compelled me to look very
carefully indeed at lock, stock and barrel - both barrels - before I could
thank him wholeheartedly. A man we both knew was killed by the explosion of a
fowlingpiece that burst when he fired it - a gift, of course.’

‘William Duran. He was incautious, having to do
with such a woman: but still there are limits. One cannot live in a glass
globe, like that marvellous person in Breughel. For my part I thought him
subtler and more intelligent than you did, for whereas with you he was
necessarily dumb, restricted to the hunter, with me, obviously, he spoke a
great deal and with a choice of words, particularly in Turkish, and a felicity
of expression surprising in a mere soldier. But whether he is clever enough to
manage the janissaries, the corsairs and his curious Vizier, I do not know.
What was your opinion of the Vizier? You saw much more of him than I did.’

‘A politician of course,
but one not without an agreeable side. I should not trust him in any matter of
importance.’

Hootings far behind them, and the blowing of a
horn: they turned, and there was the best-mounted of the Turkish guards
hurrying after them, the main group being a great way off.

Jacob relayed his panting words: ‘He says that the
others cannot keep up: and he fears - all the people fear - that
the sirocco will be with us in an hour or two.’ Looking southward he added, ‘If
we had not been prating so eagerly over other men’s characters I should have
noticed it long before. You see that dark bar over the third mountain range
behind us? That is the precursor. Presently the south-east wind will begin to
blow and then the much stronger sirocco will reach us, its hot air filled,
filled, with very fine sand. You have to have a close-woven cloth over your
mouth and nose.’

‘You know this country: tell me what you think we
ought to do.’

‘I do not believe it will be a very bad sirocco: we
shall probably not reach the oasis and the lodge before dark, but I think we
should press on. The sirocco often drops after sunset, and we should have some
moonlight to help us on our way. At all events, I think that is better than
camping unprepared in the wilderness, with little water and the animals likely
to be harassed by wild beasts.’

‘I am sure you are right,’ said Stephen: he wheeled
his horse and with the other two he rode back gently to meet the band, who
greeted thçm with a cheer. ‘Pray ask Ibrahim whether he can guide us after
nightfall - whether he will be able to recognize the trail where it is very
faint?’

Ibrahim received the question at first with
incredulity and then with as decent a concealment of laughter as he could
manage. ‘He says he is as competent as seven dogs,’ reported Jacob.

‘Then pray tell him that if he succeeds he shall
have seven gold pieces; but if he do not, then he must
be impaled.’

Towards the end of their journey, which grew more
horrible with every hundred yards traversed, with the dense cloud of fine sand
quite hiding the moon and making its way through protective cloth and the hot
wind growing stronger, even the seven dogs faltered time and again. Quite often
Ibrahim had to beg them to stop, huddled together for protection, while he cast
about: but getting them to start again and to leave the slight shelter of the
larger animals was another matter. He was repeatedly kicked, pinched, reviled;
and he was actually in tears when a rift in the veil of flying sand showed the
oasis, with the sparse lanterns of the hunting-lodge. Sparse because almost
everybody had gone to bed, and apart from the pair at
the main gate the only lamp still glowing was in the room where Ahmed, the
undersecretary, was finishing a letter. The porters were obviously unwilling to
get up to unbar the gates and open them; but Ahmed, hearing the controversy and
recognizing Jacob’s voice soon induced them to do their duty.

He asked Jacob whether he should warn the Vizier.
‘By no means at all,’ said Jacob, ‘but if you could bestow these people, give
them food and drink, and allow Dr Maturin and me to have a bath we should both
be immeasurably grateful.’

‘All these things shall be done,’ said Ahmed. ‘I
shall rouse some servants. But when you have taken your bath I am afraid you
will have to lie in my room again.’

Down, down, down into a blessed sleep: Stephen,
washed clean of sand, even his hair, fed, watered, wrapped in clean linen. Sank
to those perfect depths where even the varying howl of the sirocco could not
disturb him.

Nothing but strong determined hands could claw him
up to the infinitely unwelcome surface, but this they did, and there was the
insufferable Jacob at first light asking him whether he remembered what he had
told him about Cainites - insisting upon the word Cainite and even shaking
Stephen more fully awake.

‘Your soul to the Devil, Amos: will you give me a
sup of water, for the love of God?’ And when he had drunk and gasped he said,
‘Certainly I remember what you told me about the Cajnites of the Beni Mzab and
elsewhere, the way they were created by a superior power and bore the mark of
Cain.’

‘Yes. Well listen now: Ahmed is a Cainite too. We
recognized one another at once. He knows roughly the nature of our visit - he
knows that we are not travelling for medical experience or knowledge - he
wishes to be useful to us, being entirely on our side, and he offers his
services.’

‘Amos, my dear, you are a deeply experienced
intelligence agent: tell me in all seriousness how sound a source of
information he is, what kind of information he can give, and at what price.’

‘A sounder source we could not wish: as for the kind
of information, he has shown me a copy of the Vizier’s message to the Sheikh of
Azgar, Ibn Hazm, telling him to recall his caravan at once and to load the
treasure aboard a wonderfully fast-sailing xebec that has already left for
Arzila, a little shallow fishing-harbour in Shiite territory just north of
Laraish: Yahya ben Khaled, the captain of the xebec and the most capable and
fortunate corsair in Algiers, will wait there with a very strong guard until
the wind comes into the west, and then he will sail, passing through the Strait
of Gibraltar in the darkness, with the wind and the strong eastward current
driving him at great speed, and head straight for Durazzo by the sea-lanes he
knows best, the fastest.’

Stephen sat considering: then he nodded and said,
‘There was no mention of reward, I collect?’

‘None. I believe his offer was
perfectly straightforward: but I gathered that eventually, by no means as a
direct consequence of this affair, a kind word to the governor of Malta, to allow him to set up in
Valetta, where he has cousins, would be welcome. It is in no way a condition:
nor indeed could it be.’

‘Very well. Tell me, how early do you
think we may start? By the way, I no longer hear the wind.’

‘It stopped at half-past four. Obviously we cannot
start before the morning prayer: it would not only be
very rude but it would also look suspicious. Yet at first light I shall cause
the Turkish guards to make ready.’

‘How I hope this vile wind has not plucked Ringle
from her moorings or blown Surprise to some leeward shore beyond Sardinia.’

The period between his getting up, washing, shaving
and waiting for the Vizier to appear for the formalities of leavetaking, would
have seemed intolerably long but for the fact that Stephen, walking out into
what might almost be called the wooded part of the oasis, once more caught
sight of his anomalous nuthatch: it was not a particularly shy bird and it
allowed him to follow, discreetly taking notes, until Jacob came hurrying
through the trees to tell him that the Vizier was in motion but that the Dey’s
present was nowhere to be found in their baggage: the Turkish guards were
distraught - they begged to be told what they should do.

‘I do not think that any of our escort would have
dared to steal it: but it may be the resumption of a regretted ‘gift - I know
that Omar Pasha thought the world of the pair,’ said Stephen. ‘I am sorry for
it, because I valued the rifle for its associations and for the manner of its
giving. Though there are other possibilities, of course. I shall not mention
the loss.’

Nor did he mention it; but a man far less subtle
than the Vizier could have told from his short though civil answers that he was
not quite pleased. His first voluntary remark was, ‘I am afraid, sir, that we
must tear ourselves from your presence at the end of this excellent cup.’

‘I very much regret that I was not told of your
arrival,’ said the Vizier. ‘I should have enjoyed several more hours of your
company. But I trust you were satisfied by your conversation with the Dey?’

‘Perfectly satisfied, I thank you, sir,’ said
Stephen, finishing his coffee and standing up. ‘But now, if you will forgive
me, a very long road lies ahead. Let me first make the fullest acknowledgement
of your remarkable hospitality, and then allow me to beg that you will transmit
all my due respects to His Highness and my thanks for his kindness.’

Chapter Eight

A long road it was and a weary, deep in fine sand
wherever there was shelter, while the gardens on the outskirts of Algiers, when
at last they reached them, were desolation itself, with greenery all hanging
limp, shattered and seared, but for the most part blown right off to lie in
withering heaps. And from an outward turn on the mountain road which gave them
a clear view of the port and both harbours, it was clear to Stephen’s searching
telescope that Ringle was not there, snug against the mole. Nor was she in the
offing: he barely had the heart to search the horizon for the larger, more
conspicuous sails of Surprise, yet he did so for a full minute before clapping
his glass to with disappointment.

‘My dear Amos,’ he said some time later, ‘may I beg
you to settle accounts with our guide and these good Turks, to give them a
farewell feast at whatever place you judge most fit, together with a present,
and then to join me at the consulate. I can see the roof and flagstaff from
here.’

Jacob looked doubtful, but he agreed and they
parted at the next forking of the road. Stephen could hardly have missed his
way, in spite of the anxiety, reasonable and unreasonable, that kept welling up
in his heart, for this was the mare’s own ground and she increased her pace to
a pleasant amble, threading her way through the increasing number of asses,
camels, oxen and horses until she brought him to the gate, gave him time to
dismount, and then walked off to her own stable.

In spite of his anxiety Stephen had noticed an air
of excitement in the city as he rode well into it: groups of people, talking
louder than usual, gazing about, making gestures  whose meaning escaped him - so many
people that sometimes they almost blocked the way, and the placid mare had to
push through: no harsh words, however, excitement overcoming all other
emotions. It is true that Stephen, who had retained his sirocco headgear, did
not look at all out of the way.

He was, however, at once recognized by the
unfortunate young man in the outer office, who begged him to sit down- he would
tell Lady Clifford at once.

‘
Dear Dr Maturin
,’ she cried, ‘how very
glad I am to see you. Did you have an unspeakably horrid ride? I am afraid so.
A really shocking sirocco like that makes you long for the Yorkshire moors.’

‘Certainly: but may I ask how Sir Peter does?’

‘Oh, very well indeed, I thank you - I have never
seen such a change in him - no, nor known a better pill. I take two myself, one in the morning and one before bed. But will
you not come and see him? He keeps his room, because he has a great deal of
work and people are such a bore: besides, his chief secretary is sick.’

The consul sprang up, not indeed quite like a lion,
but very much more briskly than might have been expected in a man so recently
crippled by what looked very like an exacerbated
sciatica. ‘Dr Maturin,’ he cried, taking both Stephen’s hands, ‘how very much
obliged I am to you and your colleague for your precious remedies. I have
scarcely thought about that shocking pain these last three days; and - forgive
me, my dear - such a benign and healing purgation. Sit down, sit down, I beg.
You must have had a cruel hard ride of it. Did you meet two or three squadrons
of horse on your way back?’

‘No, sir.’

‘They must have taken the lower road. But tell me,
how did your journey go? My dear’ - to Lady Clifford - ‘you
will excuse us, will you not?’

‘Of course, of course; and if either of you could
do with a pot of tea, pray touch the bell.’

‘First,’ said Stephen, having opened the door for
her, ‘may I ask what has become of the schooner Ringle? I have news of the very
first consequence that I must communicate to Commodore Aubrey.’

‘Alas: in the last stages of that frightful blow,
the Commodore, signalling from an immense distance, called the schooner to him.
I gathered from those who had been talking to the corsairs who had managed to
get in that a ship of the Royal Navy was dismasted and badly damaged, and
Aubrey needed the schooner to help save her and tow her - presumably to Mahon. I am very sorry to give
you what is, I fear, very bad news.’

‘It is bad news, about as bad as can be, without
some special dispensation. Let me tell you about my mission, and you shall
judge. Dr Jacob and I reached the hunting-lodge in the oasis: as you had told
me, the Dey was not there but pursuing lions farther on in the Atlas. But as
you had foretold, the Vizier was there: I therefore showed him your letter and
explained my errand - he is perfectly fluent in French, by the way. He said
that the rumour was completely unfounded, putting forward the religious
differences and the Dey’s hatred of Bonaparte: finally he suggested that I
should speak to Omar Pasha himself and hear his even more convincing denial.
This I did, now speaking through Jacob, and the Dey too said it was great
nonsense - he reviled Bonaparte and spoke of his necessary downfall. He also
spoke of his admiration for Sir Sidney Smith and the Royal Navy; and he invited
me to lie in wait with him for a lion the next evening, using one of a very
beautiful pair of rifles that he had recently acquired. Nothing of political
consequence occurred until the next day when he did indeed kill the lion, but
only with his second barrel, so that when the wholly unexpected lioness charged
he was unarmed: I shot her dead, at very short range. He was kind enough to say
many flattering things, and he said that he should send the Vizier a direct order
that no gold should pass through Algiers; and on the return journey
to the hunting-lodge, looking by chance in my baggage I found the rifle I had
used concealed under my spare shirt. A little later the sirocco began to blow.
It rapidly increased in strength and we only reached the hunting-lodge very
late: the Vizier was already in bed. Dr Jacob was lodged with a former
acquaintance and, I think, fellow-Cainite who showed him the copy of a letter
from the Vizier to Sheikh Ibn Hazm -,

‘The ruler who was to
provide the pay for the Balkan mercenaries?’

‘Just so. A letter requiring him to
recall his caravan and load the treasure aboard one of the Dey’s xebecs at
Arzila, just south and west of Tangier: the xebec was already on its way and
the captain’s orders were to receive the treasure and repass the Strait by
night with the strong eastward current and a favourable wind, steering for
Durazzo with the utmost press of sail - it is the fastest xebec in all Barbary.
This is the information that I wished to give the Commodore so that he, who
knows the Strait so well, might intercept the vessel.’

‘I am very sorry indeed, that you should have found
the Commodore out of immediate reach. I am also very sorry to tell you that
later this evening or perhaps tomorrow a new Dey will be proclaimed, Omar Pasha
having by then been strangled by the executioners sent to the Khadna valley
with those squadrons I mentioned earlier - strangled as his predecessor was
strangled. He impaled one youth too many. An error in his
calculations that I had not reckoned upon.’

Sir Peter touched the bell: the tea appeared: and
when Stephen had drunk a sip he asked, ‘Do you suppose the Vizier was privy to
this usurpation?’

‘I have no doubt of it at all. In the first place
they were wholly incompatible: the Vizier despised Omar Pasha as an illiterate
brute and the Dey despised the Vizier as a cotquean, in spite of his numerous
harem, his collection of guns and his status as an important shareholder in the
larger associations of corsairs. Furthermore, the Vizier privately admired
Bonaparte and privately stood to receive a huge commission on Ibn Hazm’s gold.
But even in so small a court as that of Algiers privacy, real privacy, scarcely exists. I can do favours on occasion, and
I have a number of voluntary informants.’

‘I do not think I know the word cotquean,’ said
Stephen.

  ‘Perhaps it
is rather out of use now, but we lived in a remote part of Yorkshire and my
grandfather often used it - most of his neighbours were cotqueans, particularly
those that did not choose to hunt the fox or hare. He meant that they were
somewhat effeminate, given to embroidery and probably to sodomy - little better
than Whigs.’

After some moments of reflection Stephen said, ‘I
grieve for Omar Pasha. He had some excellent qualities; he was truly generous;
and I did him a shameful injustice.’

‘Come in,’ called the consul.

‘Sir,’ said the messenger, ‘you told me to warn you
the moment the schooner was seen. Moussa believes she is just hull-up in the
north.’

‘Shall we go and see?’ asked Sir Peter. ‘I have a
telescope on the roof.’

‘Will your poor leg bear you?’

‘It has done so ever since the Ringle vanished.’

The roof, like almost all the others in the city,
was whitened against the heat of the sun with tiles or lime-wash, and the mass
of them gave the impression of some superhuman bleaching-field; but Stephen’s
whole attention was fastened upon the fine stout telescope that stood on a
bronze tripod weighed down and steadied by pigs of lead: beside it stood a
black boy in a scarlet fez, smiling with triumph.

Sir Peter hurried over, bent double against the
wind but moving even more nimbly that when he had climbed the ladder, and
inwardly Stephen swore to abide by no obvious diagnosis for the rest of his
life.

 ‘She is
certainly fore-and-aft rigged,’ said Sir Peter. ‘But this damned wind does so
blur the image. Come and look: here is the focusing knob.’

Stephen peered with lowered head, cupping his eye
with both hands. The air was indeed horribly troubled. A little whiteness came,
grew almost clear, then utterly dissolved in shimmer.

‘I wish I had a smaller eyepiece,’ said Sir Peter.
‘This atmosphere will not cope with such a magnification.’

‘I have her,’ cried Stephen. ‘I have her... but
alas she is not Ringle. She is a craft with a lateen; and she is losing ground
on every tack.’