The Sultan's Daughter (31 page)

Read The Sultan's Daughter Online

Authors: Dennis Wheatley

BOOK: The Sultan's Daughter
13.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘Chris Brook!' exclaimed Nelson. ‘Why, he is an old friend. I served under him in the Indies. How comes it that you are acquainted with him?'

Roger cast a glance at Berry, who was standing in the doorway, and replied, ‘Our association was of a distinctly private nature; but if I had your ear alone …'

‘You intrigue me greatly,' said Nelson. Then he added to Berry, ‘I know you have much to do. Get on with it and leave me with the Colonel for a while.'

As Berry hesitated, the little Admiral pulled open a drawer in his desk, took a small pistol from it and pressed one of the triggers, upon which a miniature bayonet shot out from below the barrel. With a smile he said to Berry, ‘Dear friend, I can see you fear that if you leave me alone with the Colonel he may do me an injury. Put your mind at rest. He is unarmed and, big fellow as he is, should he attack me I will stick him full of holes with this.'

When the Flag Captain had reluctantly withdrawn, Roger said in a low voice in English, ‘Sir, I have spent much of my life in France, and it is true that I am one of General Bonaparte's aides-de-camp. In France I am accepted as a Frenchman who has some English blood, and a number of people there believe me to be a cousin of one Roger Brook. The fact is that I am Roger Brook, son to Admiral Brook, and for the past ten years I have served my country in secret as an agent of Mr. Pitt.'

‘What's that you say!' cried the Admiral. ‘That you are a Staff officer of Bonaparte's, yet an Englishman and Chris Brook's son! I can scarce believe it.'

‘Here is the proof,' smiled Roger, undoing his tunic and producing the despatch. ‘General Bonaparte charged me to
deliver this to Admiral Brueys for forwarding to the Directory. I did so yesterday afternoon, then could not escape remaining in
L'Orient
for the battle. After Admiral Brueys had been killed and the ship took fire, I went to his cabin, retrieved the despatch from a cabinet in which he had locked it and went overboard in the hope of bringing it to you. Under God's protection, I have succeeded.'

His good eye glittering with excitement, Nelson took the despatch and ripped it open. After a glance at the closely written pages he threw them back to Roger and said quickly, ‘Your French must be far better than mine, Mr. Brook. Pray translate it for me.'

To Roger the request presented no difficulty. For the next five minutes, pausing only now and then to render the sense exactly, he gave a version in English of the despatch. In a series of the abrupt, dogmatic statements that were typical of Bonaparte's address, either in speech or writing, it gave an account of his occupation of Cairo and his intention when he had fully subdued Egypt to march north and conquer Syria.

‘Shiver my timbers!' Nelson exclaimed, when Roger had done. ‘This is indeed valuable intelligence, Mr. Brook. In obtaining it for us you have been of as much service to your country as an extra frigate would have been to me these past two months. ‘Twas only the lack of sufficient of those eyes of the Fleet that prevented me from receiving intelligence of the whereabouts of the French weeks ago and coming up with them to destroy them utterly. Owing to your courageous conduct, we now know Syria to be the next victim on this horrible young Corsican's list.'

Roger shook his head. ‘Permit me to remark, sir, that General Bonaparte does not merit the opprobrium of the word “horrible”. He is, like all the French who have risen to power since the Revolution, a thief on a grand scale. He is, moreover, completely unscrupulous. Daily he makes promises that he has no intention of keeping and, at any time, to gain his ends he will tell a barefaced lie.

‘Yet, as a person, he possesses great powers of attraction. At times he falls into ungovernable rages, but they are brief and the smiling amends he makes afterwards, if his fury has had small justification, leave their victim more devoted to
him than before. He is extremely generous to those who have served him well, and particularly to his family who have done little to deserve it. He has no thought of amassing a fortune for himself, which he could so easily do, but seizes treasure only to fill the empty coffers of his country.

‘He is most loyal to his friends, invariably treats women with great courtesy, has an excellent sense of humour and delights in simple games. When I was living at the Court he formed in Italy, after the Armistice of Leoben, he would partake in the evenings, like any schoolboy, in charades with his family and friends, and in other pastimes, too, in which, at times, he willingly made himself a laughing stock.

‘And he has yet other sides. Although not trained to law, he is a great administrator. Although not schooled in science, he can hold his own with the finest intellects and his thirst for knowledge is insatiable. He has brought with him to Egypt more than a hundred distinguished civilians—archaeologists, architects, artists and others—for the purpose of revealing to the world the truth about the country's ancient civilisation. No, sir, I assure you the word “horrible” is not applicable. I am even of the opinion that if given peace and power he would become a great and just ruler, bringing to France a new era of true liberty, toleration and prosperity.'

Nelson shook his head. ‘Indeed, Mr. Brook, I find this personal account by one who knows Bonaparte well of the greatest interest, and you have made out a good case for him. But it is the duty of both of us to do our utmost to destroy him and all the other blasphemous atheists who now make the French race anathema to us. My most earnest prayer is that I may be permitted to continue helping in God's work and live to see this done. Please tell me now of your hazardous landing, the desert march and the great battle outside Cairo.'

For half an hour Roger described the scenes through which he had lived during the past month, Nelson interrupting him only occasionally to ask swift, shrewd questions. When he had done the Admiral said:

‘And now, what of your future plans?'

Roger laughed. ‘Why, sir, I could not have a happier outlook. Being captured gives me the perfect excuse for returning
to England, and I am counting on your good offices to have me conveyed thither.'

Nelson looked thoughtful, then he said, ‘But did you not tell me that you are employed by Mr. Pitt?'

‘Not in the ordinary sense, sir. I have undertaken certain special missions for him, but I remain my own master. When I last saw him I was not charged with any specific task. I volunteered only to return to France and do my best to keep him informed of the future intentions of the Directory. I will not trouble you with particulars of the event which led to my accompanying General Bonaparte to Egypt. It suffices to say that I had no wish to do so, but was compelled to it, lest suspicion fall upon me of my intentions in France.'

‘Yet coming to Egypt enabled you to provide us with an invaluable piece of intelligence—this despatch. Your position as an Englishman on Bonaparte's Staff is unique. If you remain here similar opportunities may well arise. Moreover you were previously cut off from sending regular reports, whereas now that the French Fleet is destroyed I shall blockade the coast. There will be British ships constantly patrolling these waters. We could arrange for boats to be sent ashore to lonely places at certain times to pick up anything you could send. Even a general outline once a month of what is going forward at Bonaparte's headquarters would be worth its weight in diamonds to us.'

Roger gave the Admiral an uneasy look. ‘There is much in what you say, sir. But Cairo is all of five days' ride distant, and I could not leave my post at will. It would be near impossible to find a safe hand by which to send such reports to the coast and, did one go astray, it would cost me my life.'

‘I appreciate that; but even so I think you should remain. Leaving aside the question of regular reports, you might well become privy to some major decision by Bonaparte which could mean the success or failure of an entire campaign. It would then be worth while for you to leave your headquarters without permission in order to inform us of it.'

As Roger listened, black misery descended on him. It now looked as though his happy dreams of the morning were to be shattered completely. Suddenly revolting against the course the Admiral was seeking to force upon him, he exclaimed:

‘But damme, sir! I've already done enough to justify my request for a passage home. Owing to your great victory, the French are now cut off. Even should Bonaparte wish to take his Army back to France he cannot. So maybe for years to come I'd be stranded in the East.'

Nelson's thin, lined face grew stern. ‘Must I remind you, Mr. Brook, that our country is at war? On that account many of my brave men gave their lives this past night; whereas you are called on only to return to Cairo, and by so doing may render a service far greater than lay in the power of any one of them to perform.'

Roger suppressed a groan, then shook his head. ‘I cry you mercy, sir! I am no coward. Time and again, during these past ten years, I've risked my life; but there is a limit beyond which———'

‘Mr. Brook!' the Admiral cut in, ‘there is no limit to the duty we owe our King and country. And in these very special circumstances I do not consider it consonant with mine to find you a passage home.'

With fury in his heart Roger stared at the frail, tense figure on the far side of the desk, then burst out, ‘If you think the last would deter me, you have misjudged your man. Had I a mind to it, I would unaided reach China or Peru. Aye, or still in the guise of a French Colonel break prison and, despite your damned blockade, reach home.'

A smile twitched at Nelson's lips and he said quietly, ‘You are wrong, Mr. Brook. I have not misjudged my man. There spoke the son of my old comrade-in-arms. You could not have proved better to me that you are a real chip off the old block and a true Englishman. And that is why you will return to Cairo.'

Roger slumped back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Then, suddenly, he smiled. ‘I had meant, sir, to give you joy of your great victory. Now I give you joy of two, although the latter is a very minor one. I give you best, and will do as you wish.'

‘Well said! I felt assured you would.' The Admiral's bright eye now beamed with approval. ‘With my next despatch I'll enclose a letter for your father's eye only, thus giving him the joy of reporting to Mr. Pitt the fine service rendered by his
son. And now, how shall we set about returning you to Bonaparte?'

This was no simple matter; for the thunder of the cannonade had brought hundreds of Arabs to the beach, and since dawn they had been murdering and stripping such French sailors as had managed to swim ashore. Even if it had been safe for Roger to land he could not be provided with a horse and it was over ten miles to Alexandria. Then, since he insisted that none of Nelson's men should be allowed into his secret, they must continue to believe him French, yet some way must be devised by which he could escape.

After ten minutes' thought and discussion a way was found. Nelson recalled his Flag Captain and said to him, ‘Berry, the Colonel is a most sensible man. Naturally he dreads the possibility of being held a prisoner for several years. Therefore, in return for a certain service—although I could not allow him to return to Bonaparte—I have agreed that we will put him ashore as a free man in Crete, Italy or Sicily, as may prove convenient. The service he will render us is to go in a boat with you to the outskirts of Alexandria and point out to you the position of certain concealed batteries the French have mounted along the coast. As the Colonel has not yet broken his fast, be good enough to take him to your cabin, have a meal and a bottle of Marsala sent there and then, while he eats, return to me.'

Berry gave Roger a look that barely disguised his contempt for such a traitor, then beckoned him to follow. He bowed his farewell to the little Admiral, with the faintest hint of a wink, and ten minutes later was hungrily disposing of a meal of salt pork washed down by good wine in the Flag Captain's cabin.

When Berry returned to his Admiral, Nelson said, ‘Don't be deceived, my dear fellow, by our Colonel. He is no traitor, but a brave man and a slippery customer. I feel certain that he suggested this betrayal of the batteries outside Alexandria because he knows that twilight will be falling by the time a boat can take him there, and that it will have to go close inshore. I'd wager a guinea to a penny that he means to jump out and swim for it.'

‘Should he attempt it,' Berry growled, ‘I'll put a pistol
bullet through his head.'

The Admiral laughed. ‘Nay, nay; you'll do nothing of the kind. He gave the impression that he was talking very freely, and so did I. In short, I trust that I matched his cunning with my own. I've given him a main-sail full of false information and I wish him to convey it to that scoundrel Bonaparte. A mile or two before you come opposite Alexandria have the boat pull close inshore. Should I prove right, and he jumps for it, let him. And beforehand you must give orders to the boat's crew that they should fire after him but in no circumstances hit him. Is that clear?'

‘Aye, aye, sir,' Berry grinned. ‘What a good jest, to use him to deceive the Frog-eaters.'

Roger had no sooner finished his meal than the Flag Captain escorted him down to a longboat, the crew of which had already received their instructions. Again he looked from side to side at the scene of terrible devastation and, as the sailors bent to their oars, the boat nosed its way between wreckage of all kinds and bloated corpses.

Half an hour's strenuous pulling brought them to seaward of Aboukir Island and, passing over the sandspit, they rounded the promontory. After another hour and a half, that seemed far longer to the anxious Roger, they were within a few miles of Alexandria. By then it was half past six and the sun was sinking low on the horizon. The boat was no more than a hundred yards from the shore and Roger felt that the time had come for him to make his breakaway.

Other books

Flirt by Tracy Brown
The Writing on the Wall by Staalesen, Gunnar
Cat Coming Home by Shirley Rousseau Murphy
Back to School with Betsy by Carolyn Haywood
So Not a Cowgirl by Starla Kaye
Then Came Love by Mona Ingram