Trade Wind (36 page)

A shadow detached itself from among the shadows beyond the Palace gates and fell into step beside him, and another and taller one followed a few paces behind.

“Well?” said Batty Potter.

Rory shrugged his shoulders by way of answer and did not speak.

“Like that, is it?” said Batty sympathetically. “Ah well, if ‘e won’t act rough it’s ‘is own funeral.”

“And ours,” said Rory briefly.

“More’n likely. What’s ‘is fat-‘eaded ‘Ighness going to do? Nothing, as per usual?”

“He’s sending a guard to arrest his brother tonight.”

“You don’t say!” Batty’s tone was startled. “That’s better ‘earing.”

Rory shrugged again and said morosely: “I might agree with you if I could be sure he wouldn’t think better of it in a week or so and let him go free again. If he’d any sense he’d Ah, what’s the use!” He glanced over his shoulder and added irritably: “What are you two doing around here, anyway?”

Batty’s cough held a shade of embarrassment. “Oh—er—me and Ralub we just thought we’d better ‘ang around and see that you got ‘ome safe. Too many of Mister-perishin’-Bargash’s pals in town for comfort. You didn’t ought to go roamin’ around on your own so much. It ain’t ‘ealthy, what with all diese narsty tempers risin’, and speakin’ for meself I’m ‘appy to think that we’ll all be sailing out of ‘ere tomorrow.”

“It’s more than I am. I’m not at all sure that it’s safe to leave just now.”

“Lot safer than gettin’ a knife between your ribs,” commented Batty sagely.

“Don’t be such an old Job’s comforter, Uncle. Seriously, though, it might be a good idea to postpone sailing for a day or two.”

“What? And leave young Danny-me-lad ‘anging round ‘ere to put a spoke in Suliman’s wheel? You must be losin’ your mind, Captain Rory! Didn’t you promise Suliman faithful that you’d draw the
Daffodil
off so that ‘e could get ‘is little bit of business safe over? ‘E’ll be caught for sure if you don’t, and you know ‘e can’t wait. If you let’s ‘im down, no one round these parts is ever going to trust you again. And if ‘e’s caught we’re finished—the ‘ole lot of us. ‘Sides, we ‘ave to meet Sheik Hamed and ‘is friends next week, and if we don’t show up ‘e’ll be that insulted that your name’ll be mud with ‘im from now till kingdom-come.”

“I know, I know!” said Rory angrily. “But—”

“And what about them ‘orses?” persisted Batty. “Ave you forgot we was shippin’ ‘arf-a-dozen of ‘em back for Sheik Hussein, and for a nice price too?”

“No, I have not. But you know ruddy well that the horses are only a cover, in case…”

“A solid gold one, at that price,” snarled Batty. “And if we don’t fetch ‘em on time we’ll only ‘ave that slippery scoundrel Yacoub sellin’ them to someone else, for it’s my belief they’re all stole an’ that’s why ‘e’s so blamed anxious to get ‘em off ‘is ‘ands quick.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” agreed Rory. “Oh well—to hell with it! I suppose we’ll have to go. Besides, it’s time we got Danny out of here for his own good. He’s beginning to look all peaked and wan and I don’t think his love affair can be prospering. A nice healthy week or so at sea may help him forget the wench and put the roses back into his cheeks.”

Batty threw him a frowning side-long glance and said dourly: “If I were you. Captain Rory, I wouldn’t be too light-‘earted about that there young squirt. “‘E’s a sight smarter than ‘e looks, and if you gets to thinking otherwise you’ll find you’re mistook—and you won’t like it. You’re gettin’ too careless, that’s what. All this gallivanting about alone at night, too!
Tch!
”

Rory’s bad temper left him, and he laughed and said: “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Uncle; playing nursemaid at your age.”

“There’s times,” retorted Batty austerely, “when I’m danged if I don’t think you need one! You ought to ‘ave told us where you was going tonight. ‘Owever, if you’ve talked that soft-‘earted ijjut into locking up ‘is barsted of a brother, I’ll forgive you this once. Not that I’ll believe it till I sees it.”

He ruminated gloomily, and presently voiced a pessimistic opinion that was to prove all too prophetic:

“Bound to make a muck of it some’ow,” said Batty. “Go off at ‘arf cock, like as not, and do the job by ‘arves. ‘E didn’t ought to be Sultan and that’s the truth. No more gumption than a chicken, poor lad.
Tch! Tch!
”

The night wind blew the words away, while back in the Sultan’s palace the Sultan prepared to prove the truth of them by following Batty’s prediction and ‘doing the job by halves.’

17

The dawn was yellow over Zanzibar and the crows were already cawing above the rooftops when a frightened waiting-woman burst in upon the ladies of Beit-el-Tani, bringing the news that the Sultan had placed the Seyyid Bargash under house arrest, and that “All was betrayed!” A dramatic announcement that had the effect of reducing Salmé to tears and sending her niece Farschu, who had been spending the night there, into strong hysterics.

The majority of the household instantly followed this example and began to rend the air with lamentations and shrill keening, until brought abruptly to order by Cholé, who drove them out of the sleeping apartments and bade them hold their tongues if they did not wish to be soundly flogged:

“Where are your wits?” demanded Cholé angrily. “Is this a time for screams and wailing? Must we shout from the house-tops so that every one of Majid’s lackeys may know what this means to us? Be quiet, Farschu! They can have nothing against us as yet, but if they hear you screeching and those silly women howling like apes they will need no further proof to carry to Majid!”

Farschu however continued to shriek and drum her heels on the carpet, and it was Salmé who said through her tears: “But if Bargash has been betrayed, then we must have been betrayed with him. How can you say that they have nothing against us?”

“Because if they had they would have arrested us also. But there is no guard on our gates and we are free to come and go. You can see for yourself. Farschu, if you don’t stop that noise I shall slap you. Salmé, give me that water jar!”

Cholé snatched the heavy blue and white pottery jar, and with an effortless movement of her slender arms splashed the entire contents over the screaming girl and handed it back to her sister. The ear-splitting shrieks stopped abruptly, and Farschu spluttered and gasped and lay still among the strewn cushions, breathing hard and exhaustedly, while Cholé clapped her hands to recall the slaves.

“We must behave as though nothing of great importance had occurred,” decreed Cholé. “We are distressed at the news; that is only natural. But we know nothing of any plots, and if they wish they may search the house, where they will find nothing. Get up, Farschu; and do not let us have any more tears: they will not help Bargash, but thinking and planning may, so we will think and plan—and be calm.”

Her own calmness and good sense had overawed them, and there had been no more outbreaks of noisy despair. Outwardly at least the routine of the morning had continued as though this day was no different to any other. Baths had been filled with fresh spring water, and garments that had been strewn with jasmine and orange blossom during the night were fumigated with amber and musk and laid ready for their owners to put on.

Salmé had never thought the long ritual of the toilet to be irksome or boring, but today for the first time it seemed endless, and she found that she had to force herself to sit still and submit to the ministrations of her serving-women as they dressed and scented her, combed, oiled and braided her hair, and proffered a selection of jewels for her to choose which she would wear that day. Her mind was a turmoil of panic and apprehension, and it would have been a relief to be able to throw herself face downwards on the floor as Farschu had done, and give way to hysterics. But Cholé would only deal with her as she had dealt with Farschu, and of course Cholé was right. Cholé was always right. They must show a calm face to their enemies, and plan what they could do to save Bargash from the wrath of his brother.

Her toilet finished at last, she dismissed her women and ran to the windows overlooking the narrow lane that divided Beit-el-Tani from the house where Bargash lived with his sister Méjé and his little brother, Abd-il-Aziz. The lane itself was empty, but at either end it was blocked by a crowd of armed men whose muskets showed like an impassable hedge of thorns, and Salmé, leaning out a little way in order to get a clearer view, was suddenly aware that in the adjoining room her half-sister too was standing at her window; her veil drawn across her face so that only her eyes showed wide and black-lashed and intent.

Cholé was not looking down at the empty lane or the armed men, but staring straight ahead of her at the cane-screened windows of her brother’s house. There was courage and alertness and a certain steely quality in the tilt of her head and every line of her slender body, and following the direction of that intent gaze, Salmé saw a flicker of movement from behind the split-cane screen. In the next instant a comer of it lifted cautiously and she found herself looking across the narrow gulf of the lane at her brother’s face.

It was immediately evident that Bargash had already been discussing something with Cholé, for he shook his head as though in reply to some question she had asked, and Salmé saw her sister smile. The jutting window-sills and half-closed shutters concealed them from anyone standing below, and they spoke softly but clearly, using the Court Persian that would have been unintelligible to the chattering soldiers had any been able to hear it at that range:

“—no, of course I’m not going. He must be mad if he imagined for one moment that I would. When his messengers arrived with an order that I was to sail for Oman at once, before first light, I pretended to agree: I said I’d be willing to leave immediately, only the trouble was that I just couldn’t afford to live there because I hadn’t enough money. And do you know what that fool did? He sent me ten thousand crowns to help ‘ease my exile’!” Salmé heard her brother brother splutter with laughter and Cholé say, “Did you take it?”

“What do you think?
I’m
not a fool! It was a bribe, of course—to persuade me to go quietly. I gave it to Nasur to lock away, and then I told them that I’d changed my mind and decided not to go after all, and we rushed at them and pushed them all out and barricaded ourselves inside, and wouldn’t let anyone in again. That’s why Majid has posted guards all round the house. He thinks he can starve us out. Well, let him try I I’m not afraid of that boneless puppy! And nor is anyone else—except Méjé, who thinks we should run to beg his pardon and ask him to forgive us.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Cholé acidly. “She’s never stopped warning and whining, and now she’s got a chance to say “I told you so!” and urge us all to throw ourselves on Majid’s mercy. Are you going to take her advice?”

“Never!” The reply came with a sudden, low-voiced violence that made the listening Salmé flinch. “If Méjé wants to go crawling to Majid she can. I shall do nothing to stop her. But if she goes it will be to plead for herself, not me!”

Poor Méjé, thought Salmé, trembling with a similar and sympathetic fear; how often had she begged them to be careful and warned them how this feud might end? For Méjé too loved Bargash above all her brothers, and it was her fear for him that had driven her to oppose this venture.
We shall have to give in
, thought Salmé, crouched shivering in the embrasure of the window.
There is nothing else we can do, and Majid is generous…it mas generous of him to offer Bargash the chance to escape, and send him money to help him live in Oman. Perhaps he will be generous again, and forgive us
…

Bargash’s voice, loud with anger, broke in upon her troubled thoughts as though in answer. “The rest of you can do as you like. But I myself will never surrender. Our plans are too far advanced and we are too strong. Nothing and no one will make me abandon them now: I mean to go through with it—and I shall win. You will see me Sultan of Zanzibar yet!”

A rush of admiration for this splendid, indomitable brother warmed Salmé, and some of her fear fell away from her. No wonder so many people were ready to follow him and to defy Majid for his sake. He was born to lead and to rule, and perhaps this was only a temporary set-back after all and he would rise above it She ceased to crouch against the side of the window and straightened up, holding herself as proudly erect as Cholé, and Bargash turned his head, and seeing her, called a greeting:

“Are you for me, little sister? Or do you, like Méjé, think that we should surrender all our hopes and sue for mercy?”

There was a ring of recklessness and excitement in his voice, and as he spoke the sun topped the horizon and shone full on his face, and Salmé saw that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes as glittering and bright as though he had a fever. The contagion of that fever leapt across the narrow gulf that gaped between them and fired her to a like excitement, and she forgot her fears and her sympathy for Méjé, and all at once her cheeks were as hot and her eyes as bright as her brother’s, and she laughed and waved her hands and cried: “Never! Never! We will fight them all!”

Bargash laughed back at her, and if there was a quality in his mirth that an older and more experienced person would have recognized as hysteria, Salmé certainly did not notice it. She heard Cholé from the adjacent window call out something that she did not quite catch, and saw Bargash smile and nod. And then the split-cane curtain fell back into place and he was gone.

The news had taken a little longer to travel the scant quarter of a mile that separated the American Consulate from Beit-el-Tani and the Heir-Apparent’s house, and it was past eight o’clock when the Consul said casually at the breakfast table, in the manner of one who merely notes the rumour of yet another change of Government in some Balkan State:

“Seems the Sultan’s gotten tired of his brother’s shenanigans at last And not before it was time. I’m told he sent a guard last night to surround Bargash’s house.”

Cressy, who had been helping herself to buttered eggs, dropped the spoon with a clatter that splashed yellow debris across the tablecloth and down the front of her pink muslin dress, and Hero said sharply: “
Arrested?
Do you mean that he has been thrown into prison?”