Trade Wind (72 page)

“Not likely! I don’t go running me ‘ead into an ‘omets’ nest just for the sake of ‘aving a chat. Thought you’d like to know as I been back to The Dolphins’ ‘Ouse.”

“Damned silly of you,” observed Rory, yawning. “You might have been caught.”

“No fear. I goes in with old Ram Dass as ‘is assistant, selling cloth an’ such. Someone ‘as to find out ‘ow the nipper is. Misses ‘er Ma, she does, poor babby.”

Rory made no comment, but Batty saw the muscles of his jaw tighten and a comer of his mouth twitch, and recognizing those signs was partially satisfied. “What y’going to do with ‘er?” he demanded.

“She’s all right where she is for the time being. All those women spoil her: and so do you!”

“Maybe I does, but now that we got to play ‘Ide-and-Seek with young Danny, I ain’t there to do it. And no more are you.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?”

“That’s what I come to see you for. We ought to take ‘er away. It ain’t safe for ‘er to be around in these parts just now.”

“Oh, talk sense. Batty! No one’s going to harm her. If you think either Dan or old Edwards would lift a finger against her you must be losing your mind!”

“It ain’t that kind of’arm I’m talking of,” said Batty angrily. “You been too bloody busy with your blasted self to keep your lugs open, but I been ‘earing things that I don’t like.”

“What sort of things?”

“Remember them yarns we ‘card on the coast, about a plague? Well, Ibrahim ‘e meets a cove off a dhow from Kilwa last night, and this cove tells ‘im that it’s the black cholera, and that it’s rampagin’ all across Africa. The Masai are dying like flies, and ‘ole slave caravans ‘ave been lost—‘e says ‘e meets a man who was the only one left alive out of one of ‘em, and this cove reaches the coast on ‘is own, but dies two days later. I don’t like the sound of that, and I’d be a lot ‘appier if young Amrah were took out of this, for if it’s got to the coast there’s no saying but it won’t get ‘ere.”

“Or anywhere else, for that matter,” said Rory, “which means that she’s safer here than she would be anywhere on the mainland. Even if these stories are not exaggerated there is a good chance that it’ll miss Zanzibar, for there won’t be any more slave dhows in until May.”

“I weren’t thinking of the mainland,” said Batty. “If them yarns is true there ain’t no place in all Africa that would be safe. I was thinking maybe we could take the old
Virago
across to Cutch, or try our “and at a bit of pearling off Ceylon. Wouldn’t do none of us no “arm to get outer this place for a spell—what with Danny and ‘is dinky little shellbacks a’raging and a’roaring round as fierce as lions. What do you say?”

“It’s a thought,” said Rory. “When’s the
Virago
likely to be back?”

“Well, you told us to light out for the Amirantes and stay clear of Zanzibar for a matter of a month or so—or until we ‘ear that Dan ‘as shifted ‘is ‘unting grounds. So I suspicions that Ralub’ll carry out your orders.”

“Just as you did,” observed Rory dryly.

“Someone ‘ad to stay and see that you didn’t go bargin’ about the island getting yourself ‘ung,” retorted Batty defensively. “‘Sides, I didn’t like leaving young Amrah with just them silly women to look after ‘er. ‘Ajji Ralub is a sensible man ‘oo can be trusted not to behave foolish, so I reckon ‘e’ll be back soon as it’s safe. And when ‘e comes I ‘ope you’ll ‘ave the sense to pick up the nipper and light out of ‘ere—which’ll keep you clear of the Colonel and the cholera both. I don’t like neither of’em, and I’m for loping off quick!”

“I’ll think about it,” said Rory. “I might even see if I can get the Sultan to put a stop to any more ships from the coast putting in here for a while. Don’t go getting yourself caught. Uncle.”

Mr Potter made a noise that dismissed the suggestion as one beneath contempt, and left. And that same evening, over a game of chess in the Sultan’s private apartments, Rory brought up the matter of the cholera, and Majid dismissed it with a wave of the hand. He had, he said, heard similar tales—a dozen at least. And if it were true that the Masai were being decimated, it was no bad thing, since they were a savage and warlike people, unsuitable as slaves and much given to attacking the caravans of slave traders in order to train their young men in battle. They would be no loss, and the cholera was not in the least likely to reach the coast.

“It is nothing,” said Majid lightly. “I tell you, cholera has never yet come to us from that direction, so you need not fear that it will come now. And since our treaty with the English forbids us to import any slaves from the mainland during the months of the northeast monsoon, the risk of it being brought here by sea is negligible. That is one of the advantages of living on an island. But rest assured, if we hear it has broken out in any of the coastal towns we shall see that any dhow from an infected port is forbidden to send men ashore, or to anchor too near the town. The merchants and the Customs House officials will see to that!”

His hand hovered for a moment above the ivory army: “The Lieutenant is still here,” he remarked pensively, advancing his bishop to capture one of the Captain’s pawns: “And his ship.”

“I am aware of it,” sighed Rory, studying the chequered board. “Very tiresome of them.”

“Are you also aware that they watch your house night and day, and this morning I receive yet another call from the British Consul, who enquires once again if I have any knowledge as to where you may be found or what you are doing?”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth. As I did not know in which room you were at that precise moment, or if you were engaged in eating or sleeping or meditating upon your many sins, I was able to reply that I had no idea.”

“Did he believe you?”

“I don’t think so. He is not a fool.”

“No, alas. How long do you suppose they’ll keep this up?” Rory moved another pawn, unmasking a knight: “Check.”

Majid clicked his tongue and frowned above the chessboard, and after due deliberation moved a second bishop to cover his queen and said: “As far as the good Colonel is concerned, until he leaves Zanzibar: which I think will be soon, for his health is not good and he has applied to be sent on leave to his own country. But without the
Daffodil
he can do little, and it is a great pity that the Lieutenant cannot be persuaded to go and look for slave ships and slavers elsewhere. I tell the Colonel that I am sure many slaves are being illegally taken out of my territories on the coast, and he agrees with me and does nothing. It is scandalous!”

Rory laughed, and took his bishop with an innocent-looking pawn. “Check.”

“
Bah!
” said Majid irritably. “Why did I not see that?”

“Because I didn’t mean you to.”

“You are indeed a son of Eblis; but you have not defeated me yet, and I take your pawn—so!”

“And I, alas! take your queen. Checkmate.”

Majid scowled at his cornered monarch, laughed ruefully and swept an impatient hand across the board, scattering ivory chessmen over the soft blues and reds of the Shiraz carpet. “You defeat me too easily today, for I am thinking all the time of other things. Tomorrow I shall beat you; but tonight I am too worried.”

“Why? What have you got to worry about? Your beloved brother Bargash is safely out of the way in Bombay, and no one seems to be trying to murder you at the moment. The dhows have gone—and without your having to pay them anything out of your own pocket—and the chances are that the next time they come your disillusioned subjects will give them such a warm reception that they’ll think twice about coming again. On top of that you’ve got your hands on enough treasure to keep you in comfort for a good many years. You shouldn’t have a care in the world!”

“It is not for myself that I am anxious. It is for you, my friend. I do not like it that this English gun-ship stays in harbour and will not go.”

“I shouldn’t let that worry you too much,” said Rory, gathering up the scattered chessmen and restoring them to their box. “It’s always possible that it is not staying here solely on my account.”

“That is true. I have heard that the Lieutenant is much enamoured of the young American lady, and while she is here he will not be anxious to leave. Men in love are all the same—whatever their race. But it is also true that the British Consul has vowed vengeance on you, and he is a stubborn man. And so too is the Lieutenant.”

“If it comes to that, so am I,” said Rory with a grin.

“Allah! do I not know it! But this time I think that you have provoked them too far, and that you are no longer safe here; either in the city or even here in my house. They think that I know where you are, but I do not think that they suspect yet that you are here—within a spear’s throw of them. But once they learn it, as they will! I would not trust either of them not to demand you of me at the gun point, or to refrain from bombarding my Palace if I refused to deliver you up.”

“To be frank with you, neither would I,” admitted Rory. “In fact I’ve been thinking for the last day or two that it’s high time I moved to some less vulnerable spot. I’d hate to see the
Daffodil
dropping anchor out there one morning with her guns trained on your windows.”

“I too,” confessed Majid. “And I have been wondering where would be the safest place for you to go. You cannot go to your house in the city or to the one on the coast, since both are now watched; and it would be unwise to try and leave by sea. But I have remembered a little house near the shore beyond Mkokotoni, that belongs to a cousin of mine who is at present in Muscat I will send word to the caretaker that he is to see that you are well looked after and that no one knows that you are there, and also to your ship to tell them where you are, so that they can arrange with you what is to be done. If you will take my advice you will remain there quietly and in hiding until the Colonel has departed for England, and the young lady who has the Lieutenant’s heart has gone back to America and he has got tired of waiting for you. Then it may be safe for you to come back. But not until then.”

“I expect you are right,” conceded Rory philosophically. “But it sounds as though I am in for a damned dull time.”

“It is better to be dull than dead! And if you do not leave the city quickly, I think you will very soon be dead. As for your servants and the child in The Dolphins’ House, they will come to no harm, since it is only your blood that is required.”

“I know it When do I leave, and how?”

“Tomorrow night, I think. Some of the women will be visiting friends in a house beyond the Malindi Bazaar, and you shall go with them as one of the guard and separate yourself from them near the creek, where there will be horses waiting and a man who will be your guide. It will be simple enough to arrange; and safer than remaining here where there are too many peeping eyes and chattering tongues—and too many takers of bribes!”

Majid had been as good as his word. He had arranged it, and Rory had left by the women’s gate of the Palace after dark and by lantern light, wearing Arab dress and forming one of an escort of eunuchs and armed guards who convoyed a dozen closely veiled, chattering women through the tortuous maze of twisting, turning, intersecting streets, lanes and alleyways of the planless city. The sight of such a procession was too common a one to arouse much interest, and though they had twice been stopped by Baluchi soldiers and once by a naval patrol from the
Daffodil
, no one had cared to inconvenience a party of women from the Palace, and they had been allowed to proceed after die briefest of halts.

The bridge over the creek had been the greatest hazard, because by that time Rory had separated himself from the procession and was alone. But presumably Majid had bribed or otherwise dealt with the men who should have been watching it, for no one disputed his passage. There was no sign of any guard, and he passed safely over the malodorous creek that separated the Stone Town from the squalid shanties of the African Town, and found two men awaiting him on the open ground beyond it.

One of them was Mr Potter, with whom Rory exchanged a few whispered words before mounting the spare horse, and with the guide that Majid had provided, riding away toward the open country while Batty returned by unfrequented byways to the house of a friend in the city.

It had been a long, dark ride, taken more often than not at a foot’s pace, and they had broken their journey at midnight near Chuni and slept in an empty hut on the edge of a clove plantation: awakening to eat cold food in the first grey light of dawn before riding on with more speed through the wet grass and jungle scrub, while day broadened over the palm-clad hills to their right and the northeast Trade Wind, sweeping across the island, whipped their cloaks out into billowing folds behind them.

There were few roads in this part of the island, and those few mere cart-tracks or footpaths between villages, and except for an occasional peasant glimpsed at a distance in a cane field or coconut grove, they saw no one, and the countryside seemed quiet and deserted and very tranquil. The sun had risen by the time they came within sight of Mkokotoni, and they skirted the little village, taking care to keep out of sight, and rode on up the coast with the wind-ruffled sea lying blue and foam-flecked to their left, until a branch of the wandering track took them at last through a grove of palms to a small, two-storeyed Arab house, protected by a high wall built of coral rag and shaded by orange trees and pomegranates.

The ancient caretaker who admitted them led away the tired horses to a stable at present tenanted by a single lethargic donkey, and Rory went up to the flat rooftop, and looking down on the tranquil domain that was to provide him with a safe hiding-place for the next few weeks, decided that it might have been a good deal worse. The place was certainly quiet enough, and its location so remote and secluded that few people were likely to hear that anyone other than the caretaker and his elderly, silent wife were living there. And neither Dan nor Colonel Edwards had sufficient men at their disposal to enable them to do more than watch the approaches to the city.

The house that belonged to the Sultan’s cousin stood near the edge of a line of low, coral cliffs, facing the little island of Tumbatu that lies offshore in the long curving bay above Mkokotoni. A coconut grove sheltered it from the prevailing winds and it was a peaceful spot; and though Rory Frost had never entertained any particular hankering for peace, he was surprised to find that the prospect of spending several idle weeks if not months there, with no company but his own and nothing to do but eat, sleep and swim, or lie on his back and look at the sky, was in no way unpleasant. I must be getting old, he thought. And was disconcerted by the reflection.