The Flag of Freedom (38 page)

‘To tell the truth, Miss, I try not to think of them at all,' he assured her. ‘But when I do, I prefer to think of them with their heads off rather than on.' At which amusing image, he gave a good-natured chuckle.

‘And queens, too, I suppose,' Louisa replied, ‘for I recall that Queen Marie Antoinette was served the same way … but pray tell me, sir, what does it achieve, all this cutting off of heads and spilling of blood?'

‘Freedom!' Mr Finlay had found his voice again, and apparently a cause worthy of giving voice to. He banged his glass down on the table with a force that spilled a considerable amount of wine over the rim. ‘Freedom is what it achieves.'

‘Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,' Dr Beamish informed Miss Devereux rather more serenely. ‘As is enshrined in our Constitution.'

‘And the right to keep slaves? Is that enshrined in our Constitution? I cannot remember.' Miss Devereux gazed brightly around the table as if for assurance.

‘I believe we fudged that one,' put in Imlay hastily, ‘but let us not quarrel, gentlemen, or lady,' with a bow towards Miss Devereux, ‘for we are all friends under the Flag of Freedom, are we not?'

Before this contentious notion could be put to the test, Qualtrough entered the cabin with the figgy-dowdy on a large silver platter, the effect of which was by no means spoiled, at least in Nathan's opinion, by Miss Devereux's clapping her hands and exclaiming: ‘My goodness, the head of John the Baptist!'

Unhappily, this coincided with a violent heel to starboard and Qualtrough, no doubt distracted by this
irreverence, heeled with it, permitting the figgy-dowdy to slide to the deck where it exploded like a grenado. In the silence that followed this disaster, one of the ship's boys thrust his head around the door to relay Mr Cribb's compliments and inform the Captain that the wind was freshening to such an extent that he was obliged to take in sail.

Nathan seized the opportunity to escape the shambles that was left of their dinner. One glance aloft and another at the sea apprised him of the changed situation, and if he was in any doubt of what it portended, Mr Cribb's face settled it for him. He saw their visitors into the waiting launch with almost indecent haste – though he had an idea that they were not entirely averse to quitting so subversive an environment – and the
Swallow
proceeded under considerably reduced sail on her interrupted journey to the north-west, leaving the
Algonquin
a swiftly vanishing memory in the distance.

The wind continued to freshen. Within an hour of dinner they were fairly flying along under topsails and a reefed fore course, and the casting of the ship's log confirmed a speed in excess of 10 knots, which earned a grudging cheer from those of the crew that were on deck. At the close of the second dog watch, they sighted the island of Koufonissi, and an hour or so later, a little before sunset, the mountains of Crete itself could be clearly discerned off the starboard bow.

The wind dropped considerably as they rounded the eastern end of the island and it took them two more days to reach the port of Candia, halfway along the northern
coast; two more to find a suitable doctor: Dr Marangakis, the best doctor on the island, Nathan was assured by the British Consul, with certificates from the Universities of Padua and Modena. By the time he came aboard, Nathan feared that certificates from Hippocrates himself would not have helped. The patient looked more than weak; he looked like a corpse.

‘I will have to operate,' the doctor declared when he had emerged from the sickbay, ‘without further delay.'

‘He is very weak,' Nathan replied doubtfully. ‘Is there nothing else you can do?'

The doctor subjected him to a cold stare. He was a small, prickly man with a long nose, a lugubrious countenance, a bald head and black whiskers. Too black for a man who looked to be well over fifty; they looked dyed to Nathan, who did not trust doctors at the best of times and was not prepared to relax this prejudice for a doctor who dyed his whiskers.

But he had little choice in the matter.

‘It is very likely that a quantity of clothing has been carried into the wound,' Dr Marangakis confirmed, ‘and unless it is removed he is very likely to die within the next day or two.'

‘And if you do remove it?'

The answer was difficult for Nathan to follow, since Dr Marangakis spoke neither English nor French and they conversed in a mixture of Latin and Classical Greek which had not been Nathan's strongest subjects at school, but he gathered that at least the patient had the ghost of a chance, which was a great deal more than he had if the wound continued to fester.

‘Would it help if you were to apply honey,' Nathan enquired helpfully, ‘to reduce the possibility of infection?'

This had been the somewhat startling remedy applied to Nathan in the hospital on Lake Garda after a similar procedure, and he had made a full recovery. The suggestion was greeted with icy disdain.

‘It would help a great deal more if I was permitted to practise my profession without advice from the unqualified,' the doctor countered, ‘or to operate upon the patient in my own surgery. However, I fear that it would be fatal to move him. I will have to do my best in the pig-sty where you have seen fit to deposit him.'

He had brought the tools of his trade with him, but he insisted on having his own assistants ferried out from the port and would not have Mr Kite or any of the
Swallow
's crew in attendance, not even Miss Devereux who had offered to do what little she could, even if it was only to mop the sweat off the patient's brow.

This process took the rest of the day and involved a further outlay of gold coin. The operation itself lasted above an hour. Upon its completion, Dr Marangakis announced that he had removed the musket ball and a small piece of clothing that had been carried into the wound. He had also drained off a quantity of pus, but he feared the infection might have passed into the bloodstream, in which case he entertained little hope of the patient's survival. It might help, however, if he remained in the care of a proper physician, and not some butcher's boy who was only good for hacking up dead meat.

Nathan considered this proposal gravely. Every instinct protested against delay, but with the French at Alexandria,
he conceded that time was no longer such an issue, and they owed it to Lamb to at least give him a chance of recovery.

So the
Swallow
remained at her mooring off the mole, and Nathan took advantage of their extended stay at the port to replenish their supplies of food and fresh water. He also gave permission for the crew to go ashore in relays, there being little risk of their jumping ship with the wages Imlay was paying them, and the port authorities being nothing loath for them to empty their pockets in the various establishments provided for this purpose.

Nathan had little to do on the
Swallow
and so on the second day he decided to join this exodus, though he told himself he would content himself with viewing the less venal attractions of the port. This resolve was enhanced when, just as he was settling himself in the stern of his barge, Miss Devereux leaned over the rail and begged leave to accompany him. Since the operation, she had resumed her role as nurse, but the patient had recovered sufficiently to swallow a small amount of gruel, she said, before falling into a deep and apparently peaceful sleep. She required only sufficient time to change.

Nathan's pleasure at her company was tempered only by the thought of presenting her to the population of Candia attired in crimson sailcloth. He need not have worried. The sailmaker had created a more modest version in white canvas, with a matching hat and parasol to shade her from the sun. And so, with a small escort of Janissaries provided by the Turkish authorities, and the Consul's dragoman to translate for them, they set off on a tour of the port.

In classical times, Candia had been one of the great
commercial centres of the Mediterranean, and it had continued to thrive for many centuries under the successive control of Byzantines, Ottomans and Venetians. But early in the present century it had been retaken by the Ottomans after a twenty-one-year siege – the longest in history, according to the Consul – when over 100,000 people had died, and since then it had slipped into decline. The harbour had been allowed to silt up and most of the sea-going trade had moved to Chania on the west of the island. There were indications of its former greatness, however, in the massive Venetian fortress of Rocca al Mare which guarded the harbour entrance, and in the faded grandeur of the villas built for Venetian nobles and merchants along the waterfront.

They strolled here for a while before venturing inland where they discovered a small marketplace, where Louisa bought some pastries filled with honey which she thought might tempt Mr Lamb.

Mr Lamb would be a great deal more tempted by the presence of his nurse, Nathan suspected. He was only fifteen but he had shot up remarkably in recent months.

‘I suppose you will find life quite dull after all your adventures,' he remarked, when they walked on.

‘Yes, but I am going to write a book about them,' she declared confidently. ‘As soon as we arrive in Naples.'

‘A book!' Nathan gazed at her in consternation. ‘Do you think that is wise?' he protested. And when she appeared puzzled by this response. ‘I mean, what will your father think of that?'

‘I really have no idea,' she said. ‘I suppose he will not approve.'

Having met her father in Venice, Nathan felt bound to agree.

‘And do you often do things he does not approve of?'

‘Never. But you see, I wanted to stay in Venice, and he decided to send me away. So he can hardly complain.'

Nathan thought this unduly sanguine, but he held his peace. ‘But what exactly do you intend to write about?' he enquired in the same censorious tone.

‘I assure you there is no shortage of interesting material,' she asserted stoutly. ‘Unless you do not consider it interesting to be captured by Barbary pirates and sold on the slave-market and forced to submit to the indignities of life in a Turkish harem.'

‘I … I really had no idea,' Nathan stammered, wondering at these unnamed indignities. He found that he was blushing. ‘I mean – that you were sold on the slavemarket.'

‘Well, that is an exaggeration, I suppose, but I would have been if we had not been rescued. And we were all lined up, you know, for inspection, in the Pasha's palace before we were packed off to his harem. And that is very like the slave-market.'

‘I am so very sorry …' Nathan was lost for words.

‘Oh, it was not so very bad,' she conceded. ‘In fact, it was quite pleasant most of the time. Apart from the wives. And the other hostages.' She shuddered.

‘So what were,' Nathan did not know how to put it, ‘these
indignities
that you intend to write about?'

‘Oh, you know, the usual things,' she declared airily. ‘It is what people expect, is it not?'

Nathan could think of no immediate riposte.

‘It will not
all
be untrue,' she asserted stoutly. ‘Some of
the things that happened to me are truer than fiction.'

His continuing frown betrayed a lack of conviction.

‘Sister Caterina?' she reminded him. ‘The beautiful nun who was my only friend? And how we used to bathe together in the pool of the hamman –
naked
– under the watchful gaze of the Pasha.'

‘My God!' Nathan had a sudden memory of Mr Devereux of Virginia in his study above the Grand Canal railing against the iniquities of the decadent Venetians.

‘And the Red Castle and all the blood that was spilled there?' his daughter continued relentlessly. ‘And the room one was forbidden to enter where the heir to the throne was foully murdered by his own brother
in the arms of their mother
. And then his body hacked to pieces by the slaves.'

She mistook his startled expression for one of disbelief. ‘It is quite true, I assure you – I saw the bloodstains. We used the same room to make our escape, with the help of hired assassins. At least, that is the way they were dressed.
And
they made us strip in front of them and change into the same clothing. I would like to know if that is not an indignity,' she rebuked him sternly. ‘And then we were obliged to climb down a rope for hundreds of feet above the shark-infested sea.'

‘Are there sharks in Tripoli Harbour?' It seemed a small detail but he thought to mention it.

‘I do not know. Good heavens,
you
are the sailor! Anyway, Naudé said there were sharks. Only that might have been to stop us jumping overboard,' she conceded regretfully.

‘Did you think of jumping overboard?'

‘Of course I did –' indignantly – ‘when I realised he was taking us back to the
Meshuda
and not the
Swallow
. Not that we knew it was the
Swallow
at the time, of course, but we knew it was American and thought it was you who had rescued us. We had no idea it was the French.'

‘And was it really because this man Naudé had fallen in love with your companion?' Nathan said, if only to detract from this apparent failure on his part.

‘Oh yes, I do assure you. If you saw her you would understand.'

Nathan had not told her that he and Sister Caterina were acquainted.

‘The French spy and the nun – you could not make that up.' She grinned triumphantly. ‘And of course, there is the battle with the
Swallow
in the Bay of Abukir. That will be the climax of the whole thing. And the handsome American sea captain who rescued me,' she added coyly. ‘I might have an illustration of that for the frontispiece, you carrying me off in your arms. Or else Sister Caterina and me being sold in the slave-market. Which do you think is best?'

Nathan was unable to express an opinion on the subject.