Trade Wind (6 page)

“Why don’t you go ask that young Mossoo Jooles?” retorted the Captain gruffly. “Reckon he’ll be pleased enough to tell you anything you want to know. His Pa’s French Consul in Zanzibar, so he’s lived there; which is more’n I have!”

“Yes. He told me so,” said Hero. “But then he also told me that the Island was ‘A paradise on earth, colourful and exotic, and of a beauty inconceivable. A page,’ he says, ‘from the Arabian Nights!’”

Captain Fullbright, amused at the quotation and the expressive look that accompanied it, laughed heartily and remarked that all Frenchmen—and for that matter most foreigners—only said what they felt a lady would wish to hear. “Did he tell you anything else about it?”

“Indeed yes: a great deal. He told me that he is convinced that the British intend to annex the Island, together with Pemba and the Sultanates’ dependencies on the mainland.”

“Did he, now! Waal, ma’am, I guess that’s something I wouldn’t know a thing about. How d’you reckon they’ll set about it?—or hain’t he told you that?”

Apparently he had, and Miss Hollis (never one to shirk instructing the Ignorant), explained that it was really very simple; and quite infamous! The British, it seemed, were supporting a puppet-ruler—a most weak and vicious man, who besides encouraging slavery and wasting the revenues on riotous living, had no real claim to the throne, since he was merely a younger son of the late Sultan. The rival claimant, according to the French Consul’s son, was not only infinitely better fitted to rule, but possessed the respect and loyalty of nine-tenths of the local population together with the support of every thinking foreigner in Zanzibar with the exception of the British, who recognizing that his strength of character might be a bar to their schemes for colonial expansion, preferred to have a more malleable tool as a ruler. Had the Captain ever heard of anything more shameful? Of course she herself, as a good Republican, could not approve of kings in any form. But then nor could she tolerate injustice.

Indignation brought a flush to Miss Hollis’s classic features, and her eyes sparkled in a manner that Captain Fullbright considered magnificent, though hardly alluring. He shrugged non-committally and remarked that in his opinion all power-politics were apt to be a dirty business, and though he did not hold any brief for the British, he doubted if any Frenchman could be regarded as neutral or unbiased in the matter of the East African territories. Or Zanzibar either!

“Are you suggesting that the
French
might wish to annex the Island?” exclaimed Hero, shocked. “But that is absurd!”

“Nothin’ absurd about it that I can see ma’am—Miss Hero. All these Europeans are colonialists. Six of one and half-a-dozen of the other. And not a pin to choose between them.”

“There I
cannot
agree with you! The French have always hated tyrants and upheld the cause of Freedom and Equality. Well, anyway, ever since the Revolution. And look at the way that Lafayette…I admit they
have
colonized, but—”

“But the fact is that as a good American you’re for the French and agin’ the British. Which I’ll allow is fair enough, for it’s a thing we’d most of us agree on. But it don’t necessarily make for fair judgement if you’re prejudiced in favour of one party before you start!”

“I would never,” Hero assured him emphatically, “permit personal prejudice to blind me to facts.”

The Captain, finding himself in deep waters, observed with another shrug that speaking for himself he was not particularly interested in the internal affairs of Zanzibar, which were, he thanked the Lord, none of his business. An observation that scandalized Hero, who informed him roundly that Christian people should always be interested in matters that affected public welfare anywhere in the world, and that responsibility towards one’s fellow men should not be limited only to those of one’s own race and colour.

“Oh—sure,” said the Captain woodenly, his face expressionless and his sympathies veering strongly to the side of the volatile, quarrelsome and happily heathen population of Zanzibar, who did not know what was coming to them. “Well ma’am, you’ll soon be able to talk it all over with your uncle and give him your views. I guess his opinions are likely to be worth more than mine—or that young Mossoo’s either, with his ‘Paradise on Earth’ and Arabian Nights twaddle.
Paradise
indeed! Maybe there’s some who can see it that way, but to my mind it’s no more’n a cross between a cess-pit and a pest-house.”

He had spoken with intentional brutality, but if he had expected to shake Miss Hollis, he failed to do so. Far from being disconcerted she appeared only too willing to accept his unfavourable opinion of Zanzibar, informing him with the greatest cordiality that she had always suspected that a deal too much of what was said and written about the glories of Eastern lands and tropical islands was grossly misleading, since it stood to reason that places where there was so great a degree of heat and such a low level of living and morality could not possibly be other than squalid.

“I reckon it’s squalid, all right,” agreed Captain Thaddaeus. I’ve read that you can smell the scent of cloves and spices far out to sea, but all I’ve ever smelt is the stench of drains and garbage—and worse things! A filthier town I’ve yet to see, and in my opinion it’s no place for a lady. It ain’t any wonder your aunt is feeling poorly. She’d no right to send for you, and that’s a fact.”

“Oh, nonsense, Captain Thaddaeus. My cousin Cressy hasn’t taken any harm, and she’s four years younger than I am. And what’s more, she too thinks that Zanzibar is a lovely and romantic spot! She wrote and told me so.”

“Maybe she’s in love. I’ve heard tell that falling in love is a great thing for putting rose-coloured spectacles on folk.”

“In
love
? Why, who could she possibly be in love with? There isn’t anyone—”

“There are men even in Zanzibar, ma’am—Miss Hero. That Frenchman’s on his way back there, and there’s a fairish big white community. Consular officials, British Navy men, business men, blackguards—”

“
Blackguards
? What sort of blackguards?” enquired Hero, intrigued.

“Adventurers. Black sheep. Runagates. Varmints like ‘Roaring Rory.’”

“Who is he?—a pirate? He certainly should be with a name like that!”

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” said Captain Fullbright. “He’s an Englishman, and a mighty ornery one by all accounts. What they’d call a ‘remittance-man,’ I guess. If there’s anything plumb discreditable going on, from black-birding to gun-running, drug-smuggling, kidnapping or murder, you can bet your last dime that Rory Frost’s mixed up in it. Young Dan Larrimore, he’s been laying for him for the past two years, but he ain’t caught him out yet. All he needs is the proof, and he’ll sure get it one day. He’s the perseverin’ kind, is Dan.”

“And who is Dan?”

“Hain’t your cousin Cressy ever made no mention of him? Well, now! An’ here was I thinkin’ that maybe he was responsible for those rose-coloured spectacles. Lieutenant Larrimore is a Limey who commands a little toy gunboat in the name of Queen Victoria, and it’s his painful duty to put down the slave trading in these waters—or try to. He don’t do too badly, considering all things, but he ain’t caught up with Rory Frost yet, and I figure he’d just about give his eye-teeth to do it. Thought he had him once, too—came bang up to Rory in a light wind off Pemba, with the corpse of a nigger floatin’ peaceful in his wake. Dan knew well enough what that meant—there was slaves on board and a dead one had just been pitched over the side. He thought he’d cotched him red-handed, but when he yells to him to heave-to, the
Virago
cracks on sail and—”

“The what?”

“The
Virago
: Frost’s ship. He named her, so he should know. Steers wild, they say—like her master.”

“And what happened then? Did he get away?”

“Nope. On account of that gunboat has steam, so in the end it overhauls her. But when they board her there’s narry a smell of a slave. And though Dan Larrimore searches her from stem to stem, not so much as a lick of evidence does he find, and Rory he sticks to it that he knows nothing about any corpse and that it must a’ been some poor nigger who falls off a passing dhow. He apologizes for not heaving-to when requested; explainin’ that he was below having a bite to eat at the time and that his crew had mistook the gunboat for a French slaver. Dan, he was hopping mad, but there weren’t nothing he could do about it. Not even when he hears later that while Rory is drawing him off on this wild goose-chase, an Arab slaver pal of his is running a cargo-load of slaves out of Zanzibar and getting them clean away.”

“You mean he did that on purpose? That it was all a trick, just to…?” Hero turned quite white and her jaw set in a manner that recalled her grandfather, Caleb Crayne, when that gentleman was in one of his rages. She said furiously: “Men like that ought to be hanged!”

“Daresay he will be one day. Born to it, I’d say. And Dan Larrimore would sure like to have the hanging of him. Can’t say as I blame him. Myself, I don’t normally take to the British, but the Lieutenant is a good man, and I’m for him.”

“And you think Cressy is, too?”

“For Dan Larrimore?
Waall
…I guess she wouldn’t be the first one, for there’s no denying he’s a well set-up man. But I was only guessin’ when I said that about your cousin. It’s getting on for a year since I was last in Zanzibar, and the two of them were only just getting acquainted then; though anyone could see she liked his looks. It was you telling me how she’d said the Island was romantic that give me the idea that maybe something had come of it. On the other hand, Dan ain’t by no means the only man in Zanzibar, and I’ve heard tell that your Aunt Abby and her daughter are well liked by the Sultan’s family. Some of those Arab princes are right handsome men.”

“
Handsome
? You mean
black
men?—Africans? Are you suggesting that Cressy—” Hero’s face was rigid with affront.

“Arabs, ma’am!
Arabs!
They’re neither black nor African, and many of ‘em are as near fair-complexioned as I am: no more than a trifle sunburned you’d say. The Sultan’s family were Kings of Oman, and they’re a sight prouder of their lineage than your cousin Josiah is of being a Crayne—which you’ll allow is plenty! The men are a fine-looking lot. And I’ve heard tell that some of the palace ladies are as pretty as pictures; though that’s a thing I couldn’t swear to, for they’re kept shut away in the women’s quarters, poor critters. It must be real interesting for them to meet ladies like your Aunt Abby and your cousin Cressy, who can go about anywhere they fancy and not worry about it.”

“Yes indeed,” agreed Hero warmly, her interest instantly diverted: “I shall have to see what I can do for the poor creatures. Perhaps I can arrange to give them classes in cooking and needlework, and teach them how to read and write? It must be terrible to be ignorant and unlettered, and to live little better than prisoners—treated as mere chattels of the male. That is something that will
have
to be changed.”

Captain Fullbright opened his mouth to remonstrate and then closed it again without speaking. It occurred to him that Miss Hollis was due for several surprises on her arrival at Zanzibar. And also that it was strange to find a young woman so physically and materially well-endowed, obsessed by a zeal for reform. One would have expected her to be more interested, at her age, in balls and beaux than in Good Works and the welfare of coloured races in out-of-the-way and insalubrious portions of the globe. There certainly was no accounting for tastes! She had, he decided, missed her vocation, for she would have made an admirable schoolmarm of the stricter sort. And might yet become one! since from his brief acquaintance with Clayton Mayo (and judging from rumour and hearsay) he could not visualize that handsome, ebullient gentleman being seriously attracted to such an outspoken and probably frigid young woman. Miss Hollis’s views on marriage were enough to chill the most ardent suitor, and he felt sorry for her husband—if she should ever acquire one, which he doubted.

“Handsome is as handsome does,” mused Captain Thaddaeus, scratching thoughtfully at his grizzled beard. Though of course there was always her fortune to be considered, and he supposed she might yet be married for that. A bleak enough prospect for any girl, but perhaps no more than this one deserved. What Amelia could see in her he did not know.

4

Miss Hollis rose with a rustle of black poplin, and straightening the sombre folds above the modest hoops of her crinoline, dabbed the sweat from her brow with a cambric handkerchief.

The few unruly tendrils of chestnut hair that had escaped from the strict confines of her chignon clung damply to the white column of her neck, and she was uncomfortably aware that there were other damp patches under the arms and between the shoulder blades of her tight-fitting, high-cut bodice.

“Is it always as hot and unpleasant as this in the Indian Ocean?” she demanded with a tinge of despair.

“Not when the Trades are blowing,” said Captain Fullbright. “Which I reckon they’ll do soon enough. Why don’t you go below and change into something cooler? You must have gotten yourself a muslin dress among all that gear. Something lighter coloured and looser than those things you’re wearing.”

“Yes, of course I have. But they are for when I am out of mourning. I could not wear them yet. Not for another six months at least. It would not be respectful to Papa. And besides, some people might think that I did not—that I had not—”

Her voice failed her and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. She blinked them away and blew her nose, and said apologetically: “I’m sorry. That was foolish of me. But I do miss him so. You see, I—we were such friends.”

Captain Fullbright was surprised and touched. Yes, there was something lovable there after all; and maybe Clayton Mayo had found it. He said gruffly: “All the more reason ma’am—Miss Hero—why you should act in a way that would have pleased him. And I don’t reckon your Pa would have wished you to bundle yourself up in that smothering black stuff. Not in this kind of weather. It’s plumb unhealthy and I’ve been meaning to speak to Mrs Fullbright about it. Your Pa would have wanted you to keep yourself in good health, and you won’t do that for long if you rig yourself up in such gear as that.”