Mistress Below Deck (11 page)

The
Cymbeline
dropped anchor in the roadstead. It was full of vessels of every description, with boats plying between ships and shore. There were a few merchant vessels and several Barbary ships—ships of prey used for hunting and killing, lean and deadly as leopards, crouched low amid the bulky commercial vessels—but what caught Rowena's gaze was a vessel skimming over the smooth water, low and sleek and dangerous, with a full complement of rowers who knew their work. She thought this must be one of the galleys she had heard about, where Christian slaves were shackled to the oars for the greater part each day. The sight sent a cold shiver down her spine.

Tobias came to stand beside her at the rail. In the heat
of the day he was clad in simple white shirt with full sleeves, black breeches and boots. His hair dipped over his brow and his eyes shone a brilliant blue in his bronze face.

‘Quite a sight, is it not, Rowena, this corsair base?' He saw what held her gaze. ‘The galley will be returning from cruising the Mediterranean. In the old days there would have been prisoners on board—more than likely Spaniards, Genoese or Greeks, poor devils.'

‘And what would have happened to them?'

‘They would have been sold in the slave market. As I have told you, the fate of all slaves depends upon if you have money or influence—preferably both. They are the lucky ones. The majority who are taken captive are poor peasants with nothing. At one time some would have been sent to the galleys, others to the quarries for stone cutting and hauling, which still goes on. Escape or rescue is practically impossible. Some masters are not without humanity, but under a harsh master they are quite literally worked to death.'

‘Then if it is as cruel as you say it is, death must come as a welcome release.'

‘The oared vessels, which have been the preferred warships for centuries, are obsolete. They are too costly to maintain and cannot carry the heavy cannon of the sailing vessels. Do not dwell on what it must be like to be a Christian slave in North Africa, Rowena. It is a fact of this wretched Barbary coast. It goes on. Tell me. What is your first impression of Algiers?'

Rowena tore her eyes from the galley as she shipped her oars, and looked again at the town with its white,
flat-roofed buildings climbing the hillside. ‘I've never seen anything quite like it. It's both beautiful and savage, the colour and glorious sunshine masking its underlying corruption and depravity. It's hard to believe that Jane is out there somewhere.'

‘You must face the fact that she may not be in Algiers. It is highly probable that she will already have been sold on and that she is in a rich man's household—whether as a servant or…'

‘A concubine,' Rowena finished sorrowfully, turning away to hide a grimace of pain. ‘If that is what she is, then it is something I must accept.' She faced him squarely. ‘Please don't spare my sensibilities, Tobias. Be honest and open with me. Whatever has happened to Jane, no matter how terrible, I can take it. I want to know. Do you promise to tell me everything?'

He nodded. ‘If she is here, you must realise that she will be well guarded.'

‘Well guarded, yes—but not too well guarded, I hope, that I won't be able to make contact with her. I pray no harm has come to her.'

‘Jane is probably a lot stronger than you suppose, and though she may be a child in some ways, I suspect she's her father's daughter in a good many others.'

‘Yes—yes, she is. How can we find her? I know it will not be easy, but find her I will,' she said determinedly. ‘I have not come all this way to be defeated by walls and battlements—not even a sultan, if that is where she is.' She looked at Tobias, who was scanning the ships at anchor in the roads. ‘Are you looking for
Jack Mason?' He nodded. ‘And do you mean to devote your life to chasing this particular pirate?'

His lips curled contemptuously. ‘Not my entire life. I wouldn't waste my time. If he's here, I'll find him.'

‘And then what? Will you have him thrown in prison?'

His jaw tightened. ‘That will not happen. I will deal with Mason in my own way.' He glanced at Rowena. ‘What he's doing is not considered a crime here. Pirates in the Barbary States are not criminals in our sense. Piracy is a profession on the Barbary Coast—just as trading is to Englishmen involved in commercial enterprise.'

‘Who is in control in Algiers?'

‘Formally it was part of the Ottoman Empire, but now it is essentially free from Ottoman control. The power belongs with the Dey and his cabinet of advisers, the
divan
, but the real power belongs to the Janissaries, who are professional warriors. They appoint the Deys and get rid of them when they don't suit—usually by assassination. This is a shockingly barbaric place, a place where such horrors happen on a daily basis that you cannot begin to imagine.'

‘Yes, I'm beginning to realise that. How soon can we go ashore?'

Tobias noted the eagerness in her eyes as she squinted up at him from between dark lashes, and grinned. ‘What an impatient nature you have! Later we'll go and visit a friend of mine—when the sun is no longer at its hottest. Maybe he can give us the information we're looking for.'

‘And who is this friend?'

‘A shipwright who buys my timber.'

‘To build ships for pirates who prey on British vessels?'

‘Perhaps you will feel easier when I tell you that my friend does not build his ships for pirates. He builds sailing vessels for merchants. The pirates can only acquire vessels that come their way, so to speak—vessels they are strong enough to overcome and capture. If one of them happens to be one of Ahmed's, built with the timber supplied by me, then there is nothing to be done about that. It could just as easily be a vessel built by one of the shipwrights in England, to whom I also provide timber. You will like my friend. He is a good man and we have known one another for many years. If Mason came to Algiers to sell his captives, he will know.'

‘And if he didn't come here? What will you do?'

‘Keep looking until I find him.'

Tobias had misgivings about taking Rowena with him. In her cut-off trews and baggy shirt she went unnoticed, but if anyone took the time to look closer they would see a fair-skinned, pretty youth beneath that floppy hat she had taken to wearing all the time. There were men who prowled the narrow streets of Algiers on the look out for such pretty youths. They would watch and wait until they were unguarded and then take them captive, for they always fetched a good price in the thriving slave-markets.

Preoccupied by these sobering thoughts, Tobias instinctively moved to stand closer to Rowena without appearing too familiar to those who might be watching.

‘I am trying to prevent you doing anything that might
place you in danger, but I have no illusions about what you would do the minute I left the ship if I ordered you to stay on board.'

Her head spun round and her ferocious glare showed Tobias the futility of such a thing. ‘Don't you dare!'

He chuckled softly. ‘Short of clapping you in irons, there is nothing I can do to prevent you leaving the ship. Of course I could instruct the crew not to row you ashore, but that would draw unnecessary attention to you, and you, you wily minx, are capable of jumping overboard and swimming ashore if you have a mind—if just to thwart me.'

Tobias saw a quick flash of white teeth in a happy grin. ‘I see you've got the measure of me at last, Mr Searle, so don't even consider leaving me behind.'

A
small skiff was lowered into the water and two of the crew rowed them to the quay, where a crowd of turbaned functionaries and sightseers had gathered to observe their landing. The skiff sped back to the ship, from whence it would return to collect them later. Hit by the heat and the noise, Rowena followed close behind Tobias as he forced a way through the crowd on the busy harbour, with its countless fish stalls and vendors of fruit, vegetables and brightly coloured unknown spices sitting cross-legged on the ground beside their wares.

They went through a maze of crooked streets and sultry alleys, dusty and swarming with flies, before beginning the climb up the interminable steep hill of Algiers, so steep in places that the climb was broken occasionally by short flights of steps. The street also acted as the main bazaar, where every sort of marvel seemed to spill in profusion from the stalls on either side, and this, along with a multitude of beggars—marked by
running sores, some blind and with horribly misshapen bodies—goats and donkeys, made it difficult in places to progress speedily.

Eventually they came to the terraces of houses. The house of Ahmed al Rashid was a white three-storey mansion set high on the outskirts that commanded magnificent views of the harbour and the sea beyond. A manservant opened the door and invited them to enter. Rowena stared in amazement at the great Negro who was grinning from ear to ear as he stood aside to let them pass, before going to summon his master.

She looked about her, struck by the size and luxury of the house. In the centre of the room in which they waited, whose slender colonnades were entirely covered with light blue, silver and pink filigree decoration, was a circular marble pool into which a trickle of water splashed endlessly from between the jaws of a stone lion. She made her way towards it over the glittering mosaic floor, gazing into the crystal-clear water, tempted to reach out and let its coolness spill over her hands.

Her eyes were alight with pleasure as she turned to look at Tobias, who was watching her with the amusement of an adult watching a happy child. ‘What a wondrous place this is,' she murmured. ‘I've never seen a house with such splendid views—and certainly not a house with an indoor fountain before. It's like a fairy-tale palace. I did not imagine your friend owned such a place as this.'

‘Ahmed has amassed a large enough fortune from his shipbuilding to ensure he and his family can live in luxury for the rest of their lives.'

‘The—servants in his house—are they slaves?' she asked tentatively.

He nodded. ‘Some of them, but Ahmed is not a cruel master. He uses slave labour to build his ships. Some of them are skilled men, having been trained well in the countries they came from. Skilled shipwrights are a bonus in the busy Arsenal and speed things up. You will like Ahmed—and I must warn you to beware, for not only is he a successful builder of some of the finest vessels ever to sail out of Algiers, he is also a great charmer,' he teased, grinning, and Rowena could tell he was inordinately pleased that she appreciated the splendour of the house and the beauty of its setting.

Rowena's preoccupation with the fountain was abruptly cut off when a man suddenly appeared, his eyes going directly to Tobias.

‘Tobias!' the good shipwright cried in amazement. ‘It can't be.'

Tobias laughed and went to embrace his friend. ‘Yes, my friend, it is I, and I am happy to see you again.'

‘It must be heaven itself which has brought you here. It's wonderful. But come in, come in, and tell me about yourself. It has been too long. You have brought me some timber?'

‘Not this time, Ahmed—but one of my vessels will be putting in at Algiers with a cargo within the month. My reason for coming to Algiers now is not to trade.'

‘Then we shall talk of it as we eat.'

Rowena could not tear her eyes away from Ahmed al Rashid. Never had she seen the like. She was surprised
that he spoke in perfect English. His richly embroidered robe, which fell straight from his shoulders, was made of silk dyed deep blue, extremely beautiful, like the sea at twilight. He must have been between thirty-five and forty years old and his unturbaned head was covered with a thick crop of black hair. His skin was dark, Moorish, his features fine cut and haughty, his beard black and well trimmed, and his eyes were dark and glowing.

He sat at ease on a low divan spread with bright rugs and surrounded by a heap of brightly coloured silk cushions, in an atmosphere thick with the scent of sandalwood and flowers. A superb parrot preened its long crimson feathers and strutted on its silver perch, cooing like a dove and watching the visitors with its great round eyes. As Ahmed regarded his visitor, a smile curved his full mouth and exposed his strong white teeth.

‘So, my friend, how long are you to remain here?'

‘Until I have information on where I can find someone.'

‘And might I ask the name of this someone?'

‘I know him as Jack Mason. Here he is known as Hassan Kasem. He uses Algiers as his base to sell captives. I was hoping you could tell me if he's been here recently.'

‘Hassan Kasem,' murmured Ahmed as though considering the name and nodding slowly. ‘The renegade—the Christian turned Moor for greed and gain.'

‘That's Mason. Have you heard something?'

‘Nothing good. He is not liked, nor is he trusted.'

‘So you do know him.'

‘I know of him. He is called evil names—snake, scorpion, among others not so flattering.' He laughed. ‘What is your interest in Hassan Kasem?'

‘It is personal, Ahmed. I have been a long time trailing him.'

A light dawned in Ahmed's eyes. ‘Ah, now I know. It is about what happened on Jamaica. You have still not resolved that.'

‘No, and nor will I until I find Mason. He has a habit of slipping neatly through my fingers. But I dare say I'll catch up with him. He's clever, though, and cunning, but he will not escape me for ever. I have a score to settle with him, a heavy score, Ahmed, and one I mean to make him pay in full.'

‘Then I wish you luck, my friend, and I pray to Allah that the day of reckoning will be soon—which may well be, since his ship's consort was taken out by a British man of war in the Atlantic not so long ago. The English captain, Captain Ryan, is making quite a name for himself by successfully attacking vessels belonging to the Barbary corsairs—and I believe he has singled out the
Seadog
, Kasem's ship, which sails alone and is well past her prime.'

‘Then I would dearly like to meet this captain. Perhaps I will, but until then I must go on seeking Mason—or Kasem.' Tobias reclined opposite his friend. His handsome face with its strong features and imperious profile was as lean and fine drawn, and almost as tanned, as that of the shipwright. ‘This is Rowan, my cabin boy, Ahmed.' He looked to where Rowena sat
cross legged on a mat, amazed that she had remained silent for so long. ‘He too has a special reason for knowing if Kasem has put into Algiers recently. His sister was among some captives he brought to sell.'

Ahmed looked at the youth who was watching them with a keen eye. ‘Then rest assured that if she was brought to Algiers for sale you will know. The Dey's scribes enter every new intake of captives in the city register. Everything about her will have been recorded—her attributes and defects written down. Find it and you will find your sister—but I must tell you that the most beautiful women are snapped up by private buyers. If a ransom can be agreed, then you must realise that whoever bought her will probably demand double the amount he gave for her.'

‘I'll make some enquiries tomorrow,' Tobias said. ‘Maybe I will be able to see the register.'

‘How much start did Kasem have on you?'

‘A week, no more.'

‘Then there is every chance that you will find her.'

The meal was served by an army of servants in white robes and blue silk turbans. The food was carried on big silver trays—fish and meats and sweetmeats dripping honey. It was spicy and delicious and washed down with hot spiced wines. Rowena was quick to compliment their host as she chewed on something that set her taste buds tingling.

The talk went on more slowly now, for, comfortably settled with good food and the wine's sweetness, Tobias was in no haste to go. In fact, it might have gone
on all night long had not a woman entered to speak to Ahmed. She seemed to appear from nowhere, gliding across the floor, her bare feet making no sound on the black marble floor and, but for the silvery tinkle that accompanied her movement, Rowena might have imagined her an apparition.

The woman looked at the dark-haired handsome visitor, blinking, and then she loosed a shout of laughter, her lips stretching wide in her broad face.

‘Mr Searle! I give you greetings,' she said, her voice dark toned and rich.

Rowena stared at her. She was a woman with the proportions of an erotic statuette, plump to the point where another pound or so would have been a disaster, but she had kept her curvaceousness, and she walked with grace and was light of foot. Her skin was dark, but she was not as dark as their host, and the attractive curves of her lip and nostril were slightly thickened. She brought to mind those sensual pictures Rowena had seen in books of Delilah and Jezebel, which religious artists paint so enthusiastically.

Tobias got up and bowed to her with respect. ‘Fatima! It does my heart good to see you again.'

‘You honour us with your presence.' The woman's eyes slipped to Rowena. ‘And your companion. But who is this?'

‘Rowan—my cabin boy.' He cocked an eye at Rowena, a secret smile playing on his lips. ‘Rowan, may I introduce Fatima—she is Ahmed's senior wife,' he said, with slight emphasis on ‘senior'.

Rowena's eyes opened wide with confusion and they flew to Ahmed's in disbelief. ‘
Senior
wife?' she gasped before she could stop herself, two spots of dark colour appearing high on her cheeks. ‘You have more than one wife?'

Ahmed was quite undaunted as a dazzling smile broke the line of his mouth. He was obviously amused by her reaction. ‘Clearly your cabin boy is not acquainted with our ways and customs, Tobias. Fatima is my first wife,' he explained to Rowena, and on a proud note he announced, ‘I have two more wives, Shilla and Zidana, but they are not as clever as my first wife. Their English is not so good, but they were surely designed by Lord Satan's hand—two enchantresses, to turn a man's heart away from pious thoughts.'

As if on cue, two more females appeared from behind a flimsy curtain, each carrying platters of more food, and came to stand with Fatima. One, Shilla, was tall and as black as ebony with almond-shaped eyes. Zidana was smaller and olive skinned. She wore kohl to darken her lashes and thus brighten and enlarge her great brown eyes.

Both were slender hipped beneath loose silk trousers and well-filled short bodices, their midriffs bare. Delicate gold necklaces glittering with gems adorned their chests, and a multiplicity of gold bangles circled their arms. They both wore half-veils from just below their eyes to their chins, but those veils were so transparent as to make a mockery of the Prophet's command for female modesty. Their eyes were most eloquent when they rested on Tobias.

Rowena managed to retain a cool and unruffled expression as they placed the platters of juicy fruits in front of them, their jewellery clinking and jingling as they moved. There was a gorgeous selection of dates and figs, melons, sliced oranges swimming in rose water, mingled with shredded coconut and grapes and sweetened with crystalline sugar. Rowena had never tasted anything like it in her life.

As she ate, she listened to the girlish laughter and voices speaking in Arabic ring out as the three wives sprawled on cushions, and she listened to Tobias reply to their excited chattering fluently.

He was relaxed and smiled with twinkling eyes at Shilla and Zidana, but he sobered as he met Rowena's eyes. She stared at him with a quizzical quirk playing about her lips and a wondering dip to her brow, before looking away, because for one terrible moment she was seized with passionate jealousy and resentment for these two women, so terrible and so unexpected that the glow of the feelings Tobias aroused in her of late began to fade.

Ahmed glanced at Tobias where he sat contentedly, listening to something Fatima said. He had made Shilla and Zidana blush more than once already, with his compliments on their beauty. His charming smile and words had been all for Fatima, but the glint in his eyes had searched for and found his cabin boy.

Ahmed looked across at the graceful, pretty youth and then at his friend. He well knew Tobias and suspected that some mischief was afoot. Fixing his gaze once more on the youth, who was studying him in turn,
with awakened interest he did not speak for several moments, but simply sat there, looking at him, and then said, ‘I have a surprise for you, Tobias.'

‘Oh?' he asked, one dark eyebrow raised in enquiry.