The Monsoon (32 page)

“Thank you, sir. I am grateful for your good offices, particularly since I am conveying a cargo of peculiar value and political importance to His Majesty King William.” Grey stirred his vast body, and a sparkle of interest shone in his watery eyes.

“As I am His Majesty’s direct representative in these parts,” he murmured, “might I be permitted to know the nature of this cargo?” Hal drew in his breath sharply at the suggestion, the lowered his gaze to study the ornamental fish that drifted in the waters of the fountain. He rubbed his temples thoughtfully and made a show of pondering the wisdom of acceding to this request. At last he sighed.

“As His Majesty’s representative,” he said, “you of all persons should be informed.” He hesitated again, then seemed to make up his mind. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial level.

“I am entrusted with the conveyance of the gift that Aurangzeb, the Mogul Emperor of India, is sending to His Majesty to celebrate his coronation.” Grey raised his bulk on one elbow and gaped at Hal.

Then, Slowly, avarice bloomed in his eyes. He tried to mask his greed, but the idea of a royal tribute, the gift of one sovereign to another, filled him with almost religious awe.

The Mogul dynasty had been founded by Babur, and he in turn was the direct descendant of Timur and Genghis Khan. His father, Shah Jehan, had built the fabulous Taj Mahal as a mausoleum for a favourite wife. The Mogul empire was the most powerful and the richest ever to emerge from the Orient. What might be the value of the gift of such a mighty emperor?

Hal lowered his voice further to a whisper.

“I have been informed by the Governor of Bombay, to whom the gift was delivered, that it comprises a suite of emeralds, twenty stones perfect in fire, and each the size of a green pomegranate.” Grey gasped softly, then struggled for breath Hal went on, “Governor Aungier confided in me that the value of these stones is five lakhs of rupees.” Grey tried to sit up, but the effort was too much for him. He fell back on the cushions and stared wordlessly at Hal. One lakh was a hundred thousand rupees.

Half a million rupees was worth almost a hundred thousand pounds. This was a fortune almost too large for the mind to encompass.

Indeed, Captain Black, such a vital cargo must be given all priority,” Grey managed.

“You may be certain that I will do all in my power to assist with the repairs to your ship, and to expedite your departure.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“How long do you estimate that these repairs will occupy you?” Grey ask anxiously.

“When do you expect to be able to resume your voyage, Captain?”

“With your help I should be ready to sail again within the month.” Grey was silent for a moment, evidently making rapid calculations. Then he looked relieved.

With each of these tiny indications Hal was becoming more strongly convinced that Grey was in league with the corsairs.

Grey gave him a pasty, oleaginous smile.

“The damage must be greater than it appears from a casual examination,” he said, which confirmed what Hal had suspected: that he had been on the rooftop overlooking the harbour to scrutinize the Seraph through his telescope.

“Of course, I will try to leave sooner than that, but we are taking water heavily and I believe there may be underwater damage to the hull. We will be here for two or three weeks at least.”

“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 sauk.” 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 rim 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 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 gem like 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 weigh tV 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 resealing 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 sauk. 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 does 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 poed” 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 head cloths 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 sauk 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-Tall, 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.