Authors: Patrick O'Brian
‘Aye-aye, sir,’ said Jack, and then, ‘My Lord, I
believe you spoke of a courier. If he is not already gone, may I beg for my tender
Ringle to be sent out immediately? William Reade, master’s mate, handles her
very well indeed - an uncommon fast and weatherly Chesapeake clipper - and I shall have
the utmost need for such a craft.’
‘William Reade, the young gentleman that lost an arm
with you in the East Indies?’ asked the Admiral, scribbling a note. ‘Certainly. Should you like to send him a message - things
to be brought out? Or Maturin? Well, I think that is the
essential: you will of course receive detailed orders and some estimate of what
you can expect from Malta when you are in Mahon.’ The Admiral stood up. ‘I
hope you will dine with us tomorrow?’
Jack bowed,
said, ‘Very happy,’ and Keith went on, ‘I do not wish to be importunate, but if
you feel you could convey some sense of our feeling - our concern our sympathy - to Maturin, pray do so. In any case,
I look forward to learning his views on the situation this evening, when he
will have been closeted with Campbell and the two gentlemen who came down from Whitehall. Do not ask him to come
aboard the flag: they will go to see him in Pomone.’
A little before the evening gun Preserved Killick,
Captain Aubrey’s steward, an ill-faced, ill-tempered, meagre, atrabilious, shrewish
man who kept his officer’s uniform, equipment and silver in a state of exact,
old-maidish order come wind or high water, and who did the same for Aubrey’s
close friend and companion, Dr Stephen Maturin, or even more so, since in the
Doctor’s case Killick added a fretful nursemaid quality to his service, as
though Maturin were “not quite exactly” a fully intelligent being, approached
Stephen’s cabin. It is true that in the community of mariners the “not quite
exactly” opinion was widely held; for although Stephen could now tell the
difference between starboard and larboard, it still called for some reflection:
and it marked the limit of his powers. This general view, however, in no way
affected their deep respect for him as a medical man: his work with a trephine
or a saw, sometimes carried out on open deck for the sake of the light, excited
universal admiration, and it was said that if he chose, and if the tide were
still making, he could save you although you were already three parts dead and
mouldy. Furthermore, a small half of one of his boluses would blow the backside
off a bullock. The placebo effect of this reputation had indeed preserved many
a sadly shattered sailor, and he was much caressed aboard. A little before the
evening gun, therefore, Preserved Killick walked into Stephen’s cabin and found
him sitting there in his drawers, a jug of now cold water and an unused razor
in front of him, together with a clean shirt, neck-cloth, new-brushed black
coat, new-curled wig, clean breeches, silk stockings and a respectable
hand-kerchief, reading the close-written coded message from Sir Joseph Blaine,
the chief of naval intelligence that had just arrived by courier.
‘Oh sir,’ cried Killick: but even as he exclaimed
he choked the inborn shrew, lowering the ‘sir’ to the gentlest tones of
remonstrance.
‘One moment, Killick,’ said Stephen, resolving a
particularly intractable group: he wrote it in the margin, covered it close,
and said, ‘I am yours.’
Apart from the words ‘Which the gentlemen have been
waiting ten minutes - called twice for wine, and was you quite well?’ Killick
dressed him silently, efficiently, and led him to the captain’s cabin, where
the Admiral’s secretary and the two gentlemen from Whitehall rose to greet him. One of
them, Mr William Kent, was a familiar figure, his high office sometimes
required him to resolve difficulties between the various departments of
government and the services so that confidential work might be carried on in
official silence: the other, Mr Dee, he knew only from having seen him at a few
restricted conferences at which he spoke rarely or not at all, though he was
treated with deference as an authority on eastern matters, particularly those
concerned with finance - he was connected with some of the great banking-houses
in the City. Sir Joseph’s coded message had only said ‘You will of course
remember his book on Persian literature’.
Stephen did indeed remember it: he had had his own
battered second-hand copy rebound - a first edition - and he recalled that the
binder had put the date of publication at the bottom of the spine: 1764.
As they all sat down again, Stephen, with his back
to the light, looked at Mr Dee with discreet curiosity, as at one whose work
had enriched his youth: Mr Dee’s face, alas, showed little but discontent and
weariness. He did not see fit to open the conversation, so after a hesitant
glance or so,William Kent it was who addressed himself to Stephen, saying,
‘Well, sir, since you have been windbound for so long - quite out of touch -
perhaps it would not be improper to give a brief sketch of the present
situation?’
Stephen bowed, and leant towards him. Kent’s
summary was essentially the same as Lord Keith’s; but Stephen, being unaffected
by considerations of rank, tact, ignorance or particular respect, had no
hesitation in asking questions, and he learned that the Netherlanders were by
no means happy about the presence of Wellington’s and Blücher’s armies; that
the various rulers, commanders, and war offices were indeed at odds upon a very
wide variety of subjects; that secrecy about plans, orders and appointed
meetings scarcely existed in the Austrian army, with its many nationalities,
rivalries and languages; and that as opposed to the effervescent sense of
returning glory in France, there was a total lack of enthusiasm in many of the
Allied regiments, and something worse, not far from mutiny, among the Russians,
particularly the units from the wreck of divided Poland. Barclay de Tolly was
doing all that a good soldier could do with his ill-equipped and discontented
forces, but he could not make them move fast and they were already sixteen days
behind the agreed timetable. They had an immense distance still to travel, and
the rearguard had not yet even left its distant barracks. There was also mutual
distrust, a fear of betrayal on the part of other members of the coalition or
on that of some one or another of the many subject nations that made up the
eastern powers.
Mr Dee coughed, and leaning forward he spoke for
the first time, reminding Kent of an ancient Persian war in which a more
numerous army made up of different nations had behaved in much the same way,
being utterly shattered by the united Persian force on the banks of the Tigris:
his account went on and on but as his voice was weak Stephen could not follow
at all well - he was ill-placed for listening - and gradually he sank deeper
and deeper into his own reflections, all necessarily of a kind as painful as
could well
be imagined. From time to time he was half aware that Mr
Campbell was trying to lead them back to the matter in hand by mentioning
Carebago, Spalato, Ragusa and other ports on the Adriatic shore - if once the
French were out they would represent a great danger - few sea-officers
reliable, if any
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