The Monsoon (33 page)

“So what is the news, effendi?” Bin’ Tall 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-Tall’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, effendO 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 seagoing 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 Laniu.”

“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 GodV “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-Tall 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-Tall 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 GodV “They say that the English ship is outward-bound from your country, from Bombay in the kingdom of the Great Mogul.”

Bin-Tall 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 emer aids 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-Tall 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-Tall 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-Tall 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-Tall chuckled, and took a long pull on his hookah pipe. The water bubbled in the bowl and the musky Mang 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 when 01 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.

“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 alauf.”

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 All, 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 sauk. 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.

Hal watched for any unusual movement of the other shipping in the anchorage. Since he had last spoken to Grey, it seemed that there had been an increase in the number of small dhows entering and leaving the harbour.

Many steered close to the Seraph and the crews hung over the gunwale to gape at the tall ship. This might have been due only to natural curiosity, but Hal was certain that the news of their imminent departure was being conveyed to interested ears out there in the blue.

During their last night in Zanzibar harbour there was a heavy thunderstorm, and while the thunder rolled great boulders across the roof of the sky and the lightning turned night to day, the rain cascaded on to the Seraph’s decks.

The men on the gun decks had to shout to make themselves heard.

After midnight the clouds cleared, and myriad stars flared and flickered across the sky, reflecting in the surface of the harbour. It was so still that Hal, lying sleepless in his bunk, heard an Arab watchman in one of the dhows anchored nearby singing softly, God is Great.

Man is as spume in the track of the monsoon.

Hold the Pleiades overhead, And the Morning Star in your eye.

Only God knows all the ways of the ocean.

Only God endures for ever.

As the first promise of the dawn lightened the eastern sky and snuffed out the stars Hal roused himself and went on deck. The land breeze came in warm puffs from the island, and the Seraph stirred on her moorings, eager to be on her way. Hal nodded toNed Tyler, who called both watches to get the ship under way.

The crew poured up into the rigging, and the sails billowed out, flapped and shook until the breeze filled them tightly and Seraph heeled, then swung her bows towards the harbour entrance. Hal walked back to the stern rail and saw that four dhows had slipped their moorings, hoisted their single lateen sails and were following them.

“They could have chosen the beginning of the ebb to get under way,” Ned murmured, at his elbow, as they stood looking back.

“Anything is possible, Mr. Tyler, even that Consul Grey is an honest man,” Hal agreed.

“I think that may be reaching for the moon, Captain,” Ned said seriously.

Hal lifted his eyes to the high walls of the fort, glowing in the early light with a pearly luminosity, and grunted with sudden interest.

There was a spark of fire on the eastern tower-top. As he watched it, a thin column of white smoke rose into the air, then drifted away on the monsoon wind.

“Do you think they’re warming themselves up there?”

Hal asked quietly.

“That smoke will be clear to see on the mainland across the channel,” was Ned’s opinion.

“Or twenty leagues out at sea.” The channel was so narrow that, as the sun pushed its glowing rim above the horizon, they saw the African mainland etched in stark detail before them, its distant mountains ablaze with the sun’s fire.

Hal looked back over the stern. The small flotilla of dhows from the harbour was still following in their wake.

He had not yet set all sail, and there were still three reefs in the main, so the Seraph was loafing along easily. Two of the larger following vessels were faster than the others.

They were keeping pace with the Seraph, while the others dropped back gradually.

“Deck! There’s more smoke from the mainland. “Tom’s voice floated down from the masthead, and Hat crossed to the lee rail. A thin column rose from the green back of one of the headlands, which guarded a curving beach of white coral sand. The smoke was an unnatural silvery white, and rose straight upwards until suddenly the wind caught it and smeared it in a long trail across the tops of the green hills.

They sailed on southwards all that day. Keeping pace with their progress, more fires were lit upon the shore, always when the Seraph was level with some headland or bluff, and each billowed with the same silver smoke, which must have been visible for many miles around.

The straggling fleet of small dhows scattered down channel continued to dog them, the two larger vessels keeping station two or three miles back in their wake. But as the sun dipped down towards the horizon, and turned the tumbled cumulus clouds red and gold, the two dhows shook out the reefs in their sails and almost imperceptibly closed the gap, until even in the fading light they were in clear view from the Seraph’s main deck. Through the lens, Hal made out the mass of men crowded into them.

“I think we can expect something to happen very soon,” he told Ned Tyler.

“I want the crew to be given their dinner while it’s still daylight. They may be required to fight a night action.” Ned looked grave: even a powerful fighting ship was at a disadvantage in a night action against an inferior but numerous enemy. Under cover of darkness a fleet of small dhows might be able to creep up on the larger ship, and put a mass of armed men onto her decks before the gunners could see to drive them off.

At that moment there was a hail from the lookout.

“Deck! There’s a small boat dead ahead! She seems to be in difficulties!” Hat strode to the rail and raised his telescope. Over the bows he could make out the hull of a fishing dhow wallowing low down in the water, with only her bottom planking exposed. There was a cluster of human heads in the water around her. As the Seraph bore down upon them they waved and their shouts came thin on the wind.

“For the love of GodV “Mercy! God has sent you to save us.” When they were close enough to make out the features of the men struggling around the wreckage, Hal gave the order to heave to. The Seraph swung round, head to the wind, and drifted closer to the swamped dhow.

“Send a boat to pick them up!” Hal ordered, and while the longboat was launched and pulled across to them, he counted the heads.

“Twenty-two. A large crew for such a small boat, Mr. Tyler.”

“Indeed, Captain, an uncommonly large crew.” Hal strolled across to the rail, where Big Daniel and All Wilson waited with a gang of armed men.

“Are we ready to give them a fitting welcome, Mr. Fisher?”

“As loving a welcome as they will ever get this side of Paradise,” said Big Daniel grimly. The longboat was now crowded with, the sodden, bedraggled survivors from the dhow. It began to pull back towards the Seraph, low in the water.