He had some success, and in time Stephen was conscious that all three had in fact returned to naval matters; but much of his mind was still far down in the recent past when the voice of Kent pierced through with remarkable clarity. '. . . a very important point is that eventually one or another of these ships might protect or even carry the treasure.'
'The treasure, sir?'
He saw the three faces turned towards him and at almost the same moment he saw their expressions of surprise, even displeasure, turn to the grave, unobtrusive consideration that now surrounded him—that must in decency surround him, like a pall, ever since his loss became public knowledge. It could not be otherwise: his presence was necessarily a constraint: levity, even good-fellowship, certainly mirth, were as much out of place as reproof or unkindness.
Kent cleared his throat, and the Admiral's secretary, excusing himself, withdrew. 'Yes, sir, the treasure,' said Kent; and after a slight pause, 'Mr Dee and I were discussing a scheme planned by Dumanoir and his friends—a scheme to drive a Muslim wedge between the suspicious, slow-moving Austrian forces and the lingering Russians, preventing their junction and thus disrupting the planned meeting of the Allies on the Rhine.' Another pause. 'You will recall that Bonaparte professed himself a Muslim at the time of the Egyptian campaign?'
'I remember it, sure. But am I mistaken when I say that it was of no consequence at all, apart from damaging his reputation still farther? No Mahometan I ever met or heard of was much elated. The Grand Mufti took no notice whatsoever.'
'Very true,' said Dee, his old voice stronger now. 'But Islam is a world as varied as our own miserable congeries of hostile sects, and some of the more remote did in fact hail the news of his conversion with delight. Among these were people as widely separated as the Azgar, on the edge of the desert, and certain heretical Shiite fraternities in European Turkey, particularly Albania, Monastir, and a region close to the northern frontier, whose interpretation of the Sunna, read without the usual glosses, points to Napoleon as the Hidden Imam, the Mahdi. The most extreme are the descendants and followers of the Sheikh-al-Jabal.'
'The Old Man of the Mountains himself? Then they are the true, the only genuine Assassins? I long to see one,' said Stephen, with a certain animation.
'They are indeed; and although they are by no means so prominent as they were in the time of the Crusades, they are still a very dangerous body, even though the fedais, the experts, the actual killers, amount to only a few score. The rest of the mercenaries in the plan we are discussing, the rest of the potential mercenaries, though willing and eager to massacre unbelievers, are not moved by so pure a religious fervour that they will venture their skins free, gratis and for nothing. The three related fraternities throughout European Turkey all agree: the men are there, and as soon as they see two months' pay laid out before them, they will move. But not otherwise.'
'Is the sum very great?'
'Enormous: in the present state of affairs, when gold is at such a very shocking, unheard of premium, and credit is virtually dead. Far beyond anything the French can put down immediately: for, do you see, this sudden incursion must be very well-manned, with former Turkish auxiliaries, bashi-bazouks, tribal warriors, bandits and the like, all members of the Muslim fraternities or provided by them—a very formidable body indeed if it is to succeed in its aim—if it is to wreck the Allied plans and to give Napoleon the chance of engaging the weakest of the opposing armies and destroying it, as he has done before.'
'Certainly,' said Stephen. 'But am I right in supposing that the Assassins' role is something more subtle than the wild impetuous assault of the bashi-bazouks?'
'Yes: and a truly devoted band of fedais might do Napoleon's cause an incomparable service by removing Schwarzenberg or Barclay de Tolly or an imperial prince or indeed any of the thinking heads. Yet even so there would have to be the massive intervention, preferably by night, and some truly bloody fighting for the full effect of panic, mutual distrust and delay.'
'Where is the money to come from?'
'The Turk reluctantly shakes his head,' said Mr Dee. 'The Barbary states will provide volunteers and one tenth of the total when they see the rest. Morocco wavers. Their real hope is the Shiite ruler of Azgar, in whom they put all their trust. It is reported on very good authority that the gold has been promised and that messengers are to be sent—perhaps have been sent—to arrange the transport, probably from Algiers.'
'I speak as a man wholly ignorant of money-matters,' said Stephen. 'Yet I had always supposed that even moderately flourishing states like Turkey, Tunis, Tripoli and the like, or the bankers of Cairo and a dozen other cities could at any time raise a million or so without difficulty. Am I perhaps mistaken?'
'Wholly mistaken, my dear sir, if you will forgive me: wholly mistaken where the present juncture is concerned. You must understand that several of my cousins are bankers in the City—one of them is associated with Nathan Rothschild—and that I act as their consultant where eastern affairs are concerned. So I think I may confidently assert that at this point no bank in those parts could without long notice raise so much—let alone advance a single maravedi on such security. While as for the governments . . .' Leaning forward and speaking in a much clearer, younger voice, his eyes full of life, he launched into an account of the economic basis of each Muslim country from the Persian Gulf to the Atlantic, its income and liabilities, its banking practice and forms of credit: he gave the impression of immense competence and authority—the old man's quavering prolixity of earlier on disappeared entirely, and when he ended '. . . their only hope is Ibn Hazm of Azgar,' Stephen cried, 'I am sure of it, sir: would you have the great kindness to tell us something of the place and its ruler? For I blush to say that I know nothing of either.'
'To be sure, it is small, and it has almost no history: but it is happily placed at the junction of three caravan routes, where one of the very few springs in that vast area rises pure and cool from the rock, watering a remarkable grove of date-palms. It is defended by its position, by the shrines of three universally-acknowledged Muslim saints, by the aridity of the surrounding country, and by the sagacity of a long-continued series of rulers. By immemorial custom the little state is run on lines not wholly unlike those I have observed in a well-run man-of-war: every man has his place and his duty; the day is divided by the blast of a ram's horn, signifying assembly, prayers, meals, diversion, and the rest, while except in Ramadan there is daily exercise with cannon or small-arms. Furthermore, you must know that the customary dues and tolls levied on all caravans are paid, and always have been paid, in the form of very small ingots of pure gold. These are publicly weighed and publicly divided according to established shares, often being cut or reduced to powder and weighed again with extraordinary precision to the required amount. Clearly the ruler gets most, and in the course of several generations this must amount to a very great deal, in spite of the family's proverbial charity. Where it is kept there is no telling—curiosity in Azgar would be sadly out of place—but since the Sheikh spends most of his time in the wilderness with the famous herds of Azgar camels he may have banks of an impregnable security in any one of the innumerable caverns that are to be found where the limestone rises above the sand. At all events he possesses the means and the zeal to carry out this operation.'
'In economies of this kind, would letters of credit, drafts on a banking-house or the like have any existence, sir?'
'They are not unknown, as between merchants in high credit who have dealt with one another for many years: but in the present case the gold itself would have to travel to the coast and then take ship—no great matter, with a well armed troop of Azgar camels and the swift Algerine xebecs or galleys. But with the pace at which the Russians are moving there is no furious hurry, although from our latest information the fraternities' messengers may be on their way to Azgar by now; and in the intervening time, well before Barclay de Tolly and Schwarzenberg can meet, it is to be hoped that the Royal Navy will have made it impos
sible for any disaffected French man-of-war to help the gold over the water, or for any vessel from the African shore to enter an Adriatic port.'
Mr Dee paused: the colour that had risen into his face while he was speaking faded. He was old and remote once more, and seeing Kent glance at him with evident concern he said, 'Pray go on, Mr Kent.'
'Very well, sir,' said William Kent. 'Dr Maturin, when we were speaking of this matter with Sir Joseph and his colleagues, it was suggested that with your knowledge of these parts and of the at least nominally Turkish officials governing them—of many important private and ecclesiastical persons—that you might bring pressure to bear—in a word, that you might cause this conspiracy to fail. The Ministry attaches great importance to the matter and you could draw on the Treasury for very large sums indeed if for example arbitrary arrests and the like were called for.' He looked earnestly into Stephen's face, coughed and went on, 'One of those present said that you might decline, for personal reasons and on the grounds that your Turkish and Arabic did not meet your very high standards . . .'
'Arabic?'
'Yes, sir: it might be necessary to intervene in Africa—in Algiers or one of the other ports for example, or conceivably in Azgar itself. Others observed that your command of languages had already allowed you to deal admirably with Turks, Albanians and Montenegrins before: but Sir Joseph, though agreeing most emphatically, was of opinion that a lieutenant capable of writing both these languages might take a great deal of the strain off your shoulders. He said that Mr Dee—' a bow to the old gentleman who nodded '—and he were acquainted with just such a person, whose discretion could be guaranteed, whose parts and conversation were usually thought acceptable, and whose presence might induce you to agree—a physical gentleman.'
'There is indeed a great deal to be said for a literary as well as a merely colloquial knowledge of both those languages: and of Hebrew,' said Stephen. 'Would it be possible to see him, at all?'
'He is in Gibraltar at this moment, Doctor,' said Kent. Then, 'I believe I gathered from Sir Joseph that you might possibly be acquainted with him already.'
'May I ask, sir,' said Mr Dee, reviving, 'whether you have any strong feeling against Jews?'
'I have not, sir,' replied Stephen.
'I am glad of that,' said Mr Dee, 'for the gentleman, the physical gentleman in question, is a Jew, a Spanish Jew. That is to say he was brought up as an orthodox Sephardi, which gave him not only the curious Spanish the Sephardim speak in Africa and the Turkish dominions, but Hebrew too and Arabic, together with an equally fluent Turkish. But with age and the influence of the Enlightenment—he studied in Paris before the Revolution—his principles grew more . . . liberal, as one might say. Very much more so, indeed: he quarrelled with the synagogue, and this had a disastrous effect on his practice, which, from the paying point of view, was entirely among its members. He was reduced to sad straits; but in earlier days, and out of mere kindness, he often used his linguistic skill to help one of our friends; and some time ago it was suggested that this assistance should be put on a more formal basis. Since then he has carried out several missions for us, usually as a merchant in precious stones, of which he has a considerable knowledge; and with his wide acquaintance, relations, medical skill and so on he has given very great satisfaction. We have of course repeatedly tested his—his discretion—in the usual way.'
'Tell me, sir, is the gentleman married?'
'I believe not,' said Kent. 'But if it is tomorrow's unhappy affair that prompts your question, I can assure you he is perfectly orthodox in those respects. For a while he resided in Algiers on our behalf, and the reporting agent mentioned two mistresses, one white, one black. But apart from these ladies he had many connexions in Algiers, his musical abilities making him particularly welcome among the Europeans of the better sort: and these connexions may prove of the utmost value if Algiers is the chosen port, which seems . . .'
'Very true,' said Mr Dee. 'But I must insist that the Adriatic harbours and dockyards come first: a great show of force, the elimination of potential enemies and the presence of the Royal Navy will necessarily have a great effect upon the fraternities—so great an effect that their conspiracy may well prove abortive. All our efforts should be directed towards that end. I am too old and infirm to take an active part: but my cousins have a banking-house in Ancona, just across the water, and from there I can correspond with my Turkish friends in the Ottoman provinces and co-ordinate our operations. I can also communicate with London by the bankers' couriers.'
During the time of this conference, Jack had been very much occupied with the rest of his squadron: on the way down from Madeira he had had all the captains to dinner, he had been aboard them repeatedly, and he had a fair notion of their abilities; but it was still not clear how he should divide the ships for their separate duties. As far as the Adriatic was concerned, he would certainly shift his pennant into the Surprise, with her wonderful sailing qualities, her old, trained, thoroughly reliable ship's company, capable of such a deadly rate of fire: but for his consort he could not decide between Pomone and Dover. The difference in broadside weight of metal was very great: no less than a hundred and forty-four pounds. But the thirty-gun Pomone was the unhappy ship whose captain was laid up in Funchal with a badly broken leg, unlikely to recover, and whose second lieutenant was confined to his cabin to await trial for an offence under the twenty-ninth Article of War, which dealt with 'unnatural and detestable sin'—a ship to which Lord Keith had appointed a young man, very recently made post, the only qualified officer at hand. Whatever the outcome of tomorrow's ugly trial, the Pomone's people would be very upset—new officers, new ways . . . mockery.
'Larboard, sir?' asked Bonden in an undertone.
Jack nodded. The gig hooked on and he ran up the frigate's side, still lost in thought. He had seen the flagship's barge carrying the civilians away long before and he expected to find Stephen in the cabin. 'Where is the Doctor?' he cried.
'Which he is in the other doctor's cabin,' said Killick, appearing as if by magic, 'discoursing of physical matters and drinking rare old East India sherry. Dr Glover called for another bottle a quarter of an hour ago.'
In fact at this moment they were discoursing of impotence. Their conversation had begun when, having dismissed the Sick and Hurt Board as a parcel of incompetent Ascitans, fit only to dance round an inflated wineskin, Dr Glover asked Stephen whether he had heard of the death of Governor Wood of Sierra Leone.
'I have, alas,' said Stephen. 'A most hospitable man: he and his wife entertained us nobly when we were there in Bellona. I am about to write . . . the most difficult kind of letter in the world, however highly you esteem the person to whom it is addressed, and however much you sympathize. I grieve for her extremely.'
Dr Glover did not reply for some time: then, having finished his glass, he looked sideways at his old friend and said, 'I was in Freetown the best part of a year, and they were both my patients. I can tell you as one medico to another that in this case formal expressions of regret would be perfectly adequate: more indeed might be offensive. It was not anything much of a marriage, you know. Indeed legally I believe it was no marriage at all. The Governor was impotent. I took the ordinary measures, and some out of the ordinary: but nothing answered. How the connexion came about in the first place or what they made of it I do not know: but they slept in separate rooms and I had the strong impression that it was but a sad cohabitation—guilt and resentment just under the surface. He of course was a busy man, and very fortunately she had her anatomical studies—a most uncommonly gifted lady. No. Condolence by all means; but tempered, tempered . . . Besides, one very usual and genuine source of grief is wholly lacking: she is well-off in her own right. I know the family in Lancashire.'
'So much the better. Now reverting to this question of impotence: was it physical?'
'Not evidently so.'
'Was the patient an opium-eater?'
'Certainly not. I once had occasion to administer a
very moderate dose, and he was astonished by the effects. No, no: it was all in the head—and what innumerable strange surprising fancies the head of a physically normal, active, intelligent man can hold, quite apart from anxiety, that most . . . what is it?'
'Commodore's compliments, sir,' said a midshipman, 'and when Dr Maturin is at liberty, should be happy to see him. But I am to add that there is no hurry at all.'
'Another glass before you go . . . or rather let me call for another bottle, since there is no hurry.'
'You are too kind,' said Stephen, shaking his head; and to the boy, 'Pray tell the Commodore that I shall wait upon him directly.'
'Why, Stephen, there you are,' cried Jack. 'I do beg pardon for interrupting you. But since I am sure you have heard of poor Governor Wood's death, I thought you would like to know that there is a Guineaman sailing this evening, in case you chose to send . . . Then again, the Admiral has a courier setting off for England within the hour: I have asked for William Reade to bring Ringle, and since she will need a day or two's readying, he could ride over to Woolhampton, taking messages and bringing things back.'
'I had indeed heard of Captain Wood's death, God rest his soul, and I have been composing a letter to his widow in my mind—perhaps I may be able to dash something off by this evening, though I am a slow, dry and barren creature with a pen. As for William Reade, if he will buy a fine bold hoop in Portsmouth and give it to Brigid with my love, together with this crown piece, I should be infinitely obliged to him. And if he would bring back my narwhal horn, or rather tusk—the tusk you so very kindly gave me a great while since—I should be most uncommon grateful. I was contemplating on it in the night, for I am told that in Mahon we are likely to meet that eminent engineer, metallurgist and natural philosopher James Wright, and I hope that he will be able to tell me—do you see the horn in your eye, at all clearly?'