Harry Heron: Midshipman's Journey

by Patrick G Cox

  “So I understand,” said Captain Blackwood. “What I am uncertain of is what you expect me to do to recover the missing agent or his crew.” He frowned. “To lead a cutting-out expedition against the dhows, assuming we can identify them, seems likely to result in, at the least, a strain upon the relationship you seek to build. What do you suggest?”

  “Diplomacy in the first instance.” Mister Stewart glanced at his fellow agent and asked a question in Arabic. Receiving the reply, he nodded and turned to Captain Blackwood again. “The sultan will expect a visit from you and will, by now, be aware of my colleague’s request for an audience. I suggest that we present ourselves at the palace and await his pleasure.” He smiled. “After that the trading begins, and you need play no part in it other than to lend authority by virtue of the presence here of your ship.”

  Robert Blackwood bowed in acknowledgement of the suggestion. “Very well. To lend credence to the purpose of our visit, I suggest that we have the crew who were seized during the act of piracy be restored to us unharmed. I am of the opinion that we should not simply leave them to rot; it might encourage further such attempts.”

  “Very well.” Mister Stewart frowned. “But I suggest you leave that to me. The sultan speaks English but prefers to be addressed in Arabic when it comes to matters of business, though he is his own man in all things and may do exactly the opposite.” He drew out his watch. “If you can arrange it, Captain, I suggest we go now, perhaps with some of your Marines to guard our boats. They will also serve as a reminder that we have soldiers on board.”

  The local agent said, “Sir, Captain, I will go in my boat ahead of you to ensure that the gates of the palace are opened when you arrive.” He bowed and, after a brief exchange with Mister Stewart in Arabic, departed.

  Chapter 34

  Matters of Diplomacy

  Captain Blackwood stepped ashore on the narrow quay. Behind him, Harry adjusted his dirk and carefully followed Mister Stewart from the boat. The sun baked the earth beneath their feet and the air itself seemed heavy with the heat. There was no shelter anywhere nearby for the boat crew. The Captain turned to the coxswain. “Matthew, I suggest you rig an awning over the boat and let the people remain at ease.” To the Marine corporal and his two companions he said, “Corporal, let your men stand watch. Use your discretion; a man will not last long in this heat in full uniform.”

  “Aye, aye, sor,” chorused the men, and the Captain led the way toward the waiting carriage sent by the local agent.

  The short ride to the palace was through crowded streets. The buildings seemed to lock in the heat, yet were remarkably cool inside, or so Mister Stewart informed them. “The rooms are arranged around an inner court. The towers you see funnel the breeze through a cooling chamber and then through passages to each room.”

  As soon as this was explained, Harry could see that the towers housed no sentry as he had thought they might when he viewed them from the ship, and he also noted the arrangement of shutters at the openings surrounding the upper storey. He noted too that the many women they passed all wore the complete covering of the burka; some hid their faces completely, while others simply used a fold of their headscarf to shield their faces from view. On enquiry, he was told that this was a requirement of their religion, a matter he found astonishing. He could not imagine his mother or any of the other ladies of his acquaintance accepting such a restriction upon their public garb, nor, for that matter, the restrictions upon their entertainment of friends and visitors.

  They dismounted at the gates of the palace and found Mister Tanha waiting for them wreathed in smiles. “His Majesty, the Sultan, is expecting you, Captain, Mister Stewart. Please follow me.”

  The interior of the palace was cool and light, the white walls and cool stone floors doing their part to relieve the heat. Harry’s artistic eye was drawn to the wonderful geometric patterns carved into the vaulted ceiling and decorating the window openings and doorjambs. Finally, they entered a large high-ceilinged room in which sat the sultan himself with his advisers seated below him on either side. Harry was fascinated by the imposing figure seated at his ease on a dais, cushions at his back and a magnificent carpet beneath him. With his dark visage and beaked nose offset by heavy eyebrows and a luxurious moustache, he looked every bit the king among his ministers.

  Captain Blackwood made his bow and presented, through an attendant, the letter from the Governor of Bombay. “Sir,” he began. “May peace and blessings be upon you. I am Captain Robert Blackwood of His Most Britannic Majesty’s Ship Spartan. I bring you greetings from the Governor of Bombay.”

  “Welcome, Captain Blackwood.” The sultan’s English was slightly accented. “Peace be upon you and your ship. What brings such a large ship as yours to our seas?”

  “A matter of abduction and piracy, I regret to say, Your Majesty.” He indicated the company agent and continued. “Mr Stewart, of the Honourable East India Company, will no doubt be able to give you a full list of the people in due course. My ship had the good fortune to intercept the attempt, and though we recovered the vessel, the crew and their passenger were abducted by the attackers.”

  Captain Blackwood watched the advisers for any reaction. He had not expected the sultan to be quite so direct, but since he had been asked, he had responded with all honesty.

  Harry watched the whole scene carefully, his interest in the room, the decoration and the people spurred on by the strangeness of the surroundings. Already, in his mind’s eye, he was planning a painting to accompany his written description of this adventure.

  The Sultan rose from his seat and said, “We will discuss this further, Captain, but first, allow me to offer you refreshments.”

  He led the way through an ornate door and indicated that his visitors should seat themselves once he had done so. Negro servants, whom Harry very quickly realised were slaves, immediately presented them with small cups of coffee to which cinnamon had been added. Platters of dates and roasted nuts were placed handily between the visitors and before the sultan who now selected several different items from the platter before him and placed these on small delicate plates, which the servants brought to the guests. There were small cakes too, and a variety of small dishes with olives, figs and a range of fruits. Sweetmeats and all manner of delicacies were offered. Harry, with the appetite of a growing young man, gorged himself. As a result, he barely noticed that while he and the Captain were engaged with the sultan, Mister Stewart and his colleague retired with some of the sultan’s advisers.

  He was surprised to find himself being addressed by the sultan, who was interested to know his age.

  “I beg pardon, Your Majesty,” Harry said, gulping down the cake he had just placed in his mouth. “I am fourteen, nearly fifteen, sir.”

  “Fourteen nearly fifteen,” the sultan repeated, a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth. He studied Harry for a moment then nodded. “And you enjoy this life at sea?”

  “Indeed I do, sir. It has given me the opportunity to see many things and places and some fabulous and interesting beasts, sir.”

  “What have you seen of this palace that interests you, Mister Heron?” The sultan smiled. “I have noticed your interest in the decoration of the walls and the ceiling. Is this of some special interest to you?”

  “I like to draw what I have seen and include it in my letters home to my parents, sir,” Harry replied. “And the intricacy of the designs I have seen in your palace, sir, is marvellous. Are all your people so creative?”

  The sultan laughed. “Sadly, no, though we have many talented artists among us. We are a desert people, and our art is to beautify our surroundings.”

  He clapped his hands and a servant appeared and bowed low. The sultan addressed the man in Arabic and then turned to Harry again as the servant hurried away. “I will show you something of our art in a moment.” To the Captain he said, “Do you have others like Mister Heron on your ship, Captain? No wonder you are so vigorous a
nation if all your young men are so enquiring.”

  Captain Blackwood’s reply was diplomatic, and he was grateful that the servant returned midsentence with an exquisitely carved cedar wood box. He had selected Harry for this task precisely because the youth was so observant and quick to catch the niceties to be observed. He could be relied upon to be articulate, polite and discrete in his manners and behaviour as well, all in his favour in the Captain’s eyes.

  The servant offered the box to the sultan who waved it toward Harry. He found himself staring in wonder at the detailed work on the lid and the mother of pearl inlaid sides. It was a wonder in itself, the intricate decoration of inlaid gemstones and silver tracery marvellous to behold.

  “Take it, young man, and open it.”

  Carefully Harry did as he was instructed, and folded the lid back to reveal a large and exquisitely worked jewelled silver brooch. He studied the exquisite piece in admiration and realised that it was in fact a turban clasp designed to hold some sort of cockade, peacock feathers, most likely, as it showed a pair of peacocks supporting a central bird with its tail fully spread. The workmanship was superb; every minute detail carefully wrought in the silver, and the tail of the central bird decorated with tiny cut stones, which he realised must be diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires. “It’s beautiful, sir, and must be very precious. Is it the work of a local craftsman?”

  “It was created for my father by a silversmith in the town of Mutrah,” said the sultan. “It is one of a kind and worn only on occasions of state.”

  Harry carefully closed the box and returned it to the waiting slave. “Thank you for allowing me to see it, sir,” he said.

  The sultan laughed. “Many covet that and more, my young friend. You must be one of the few who have gazed upon it and thought only of the beauty of the workmanship.” He said something more to the slave, who hurried away and returned a few minutes later with the agents. “And now, gentlemen, I must ask your pardon. I have many things to attend to. But I trust that you will succeed in your enterprise and find everything you desire.” He bowed to the party and said, “Peace be with you.”

  After they returned the bow and the greeting, they were escorted from the palace.

  ONCE MORE IN THE CARRIAGE, CAPTAIN BLACKWOOD asked, “How did the negotiations go?”

  Mister Stewart shrugged. “Delicately, though I think we will succeed.” He glanced at Harry, who was busily looking at the buildings they were passing, and said, “It seems the sultan has taken a fancy to you both; that at least is in our favour. The French have been busy again, and I have word that the Peace is definitely at an end. Bonaparte is on the march once more. We will have to watch our step carefully. There is much at stake here.”

  “I can see that.” The Captain nodded. “I didn’t like the looks of the adviser immediately on the sultan’s left on our arrival. I would not trust him if I were the negotiator.”

  “Ah, yes, that is Abdullah al-Qatari, the sultan’s uncle; he is currently championing the French cause to the court. He cherishes hopes of ascending to the sultanate himself, and he is not pleased with the latest turn of events.” Again, he glanced at Harry. “I wish I knew exactly what the sultan is playing at, but apparently he has ordered that our people be found and delivered to you.”

  “What? Well that is good news. To be honest he spent most of the time we were together discussing the capabilities of our ships and men, and was most taken with young Harry here, who appreciated the art around him so much so that he was shown and permitted to hold a delightful silver peacock clasp evidently intended to adorn a turban.”

  “Was he indeed?” Mister Stewart looked thoughtful. “That is unusual. Perhaps his game is even deeper than I thought.” He turned back to business. “We have consent to replenish your stores as you need here. Mister Tanha will accompany your people, I think, on any expedition ashore to the souq. This place may not be as large as Bombay, but it is no less dangerous for the unwary or the incautious.”

  THEY ARRIVED BACK AT THE SHIP AS THE BELL STRUCK the end of the forenoon watch.

  “Sir, I have to report that we have observed soldiers manning the battery on the Al Minari Fort,” Mister Bell reported immediately on their arrival. “Some guns have been moved from the seaward side to the lower battery on this side. From there they can easily sweep our anchorage.”

  “So they can, Mister Bell. Very well, two may play that game. We will shift anchorage during the night. I want the ship warped to a position, just there.” He indicated a position some four cables to the south. “I shall want the bower anchor run out through a stern port with a spring to allow us to point our Larboard battery at the shore.” To Mister Stewart he said, “It seems that someone is playing a double game—the uncle, perhaps, or is it the sultan himself? And what, I wonder, are they seeking?”

  Mister Bell looked at the position the Captain had indicated. “A good choice of position, sir. That will keep the fishing dhows between us and the battery at Al Minari, and the second one will be masked by the trading dhows anchored south of us.”

  “As you say, Mister Bell, and the town itself under our guns.”

  THE CHANGE OF ANCHORAGE TOOK MOST OF THE NIGHT, which fortunately was moonless with only a faint breeze from the shore. The ship’s boats dragged the Spartan some six cables to the south and a little west, but this was not in a straight line, since they had to circumvent the dhows anchored between them and the desired anchorage. As dawn broke, the ship was once more at anchor, but with her larboard battery now able to sweep a wide swath of the shore including the palace and masked from the guns of both shore batteries by the anchored dhows.

  An hour later a boat approached bearing a messenger from the sultan.

  Mister Stewart greeted the visitor at the entry port and received a note. They conversed in Arabic for several minutes; then, with gestures of respect and deep bows, the visitor withdrew, and Mister Stewart strolled aft to the Captain. “It appears that our moving has spoiled someone’s plan, Captain. I have received a private note to you from the sultan himself.”

  The Captain raised an eyebrow as he received the note.

  “Publically he has asked for an explanation of our moving anchorage during the night. As you and I agreed we would do, I informed him through his messenger that you had decided to do so for the security of your ship, as you had discovered that the original anchorage did not provide the correct hold for your anchors.” Smiling, the agent explained, “I suspect the messenger knows enough about the anchorage to know that we have moved for another reason.”

  “Good,” the Captain said. “At least they will understand that I will not be threatened. The very fact that they shifted guns in the battery to bear on us is sufficient reason, I think.” He glanced at the note. “What does it say?”

  “In essence, that His Majesty would be happy to accept an invitation to visit your ship.” The agent looked up. “I suspect he has his own reasons for being absent from the palace for a few hours. I would suggest that you despatch an invitation as soon as you can.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said the Captain with a knowing smile.

  AN HOUR LATER, HARRY WAS AT THE ENTRANCE to the palace bearing a sealed package with instructions for its delivery to the sultan. Mohammad Tanha accompanied him, and several lengthy discussions with various court officials eventually culminated in Harry standing once more before the sultan himself.

  He bowed and handed over the sealed letter. “My Captain’s compliments, Your Majesty. He hopes that you are in good health and will honour us with a visit to our ship at your convenience.” He rehearsed this speech all the way to the palace and throughout the lengthy wait, and was pleased with himself for having got it word perfect in spite of his surroundings.

  The sultan smiled and acknowledged the message. “Peace and blessings upon you, young man. I am pleased to accept this invitation.” He paused and then asked suddenly, “Why does your Captain point his guns at my pa
lace?”

  Harry was surprised, but he recovered his wits quickly. “We do not, sir. The ship is merely anchored fore and aft in this manner since that prevents her swinging in confined waters. It is not the Captain’s intention to menace the palace, I am sure.”

  The Sultan nodded, but his face was inscrutable. “I understand perfectly. Your loyalty is remarkable, but perhaps the finer detail of some situations escapes you as yet, yes?” He opened the letter and summoned a lackey. Handing it to the man, he gave orders in Arabic. Mohammad Tanha translated softly to Harry as the Sultan spoke. “He says to reply accepting the invitation. He will come this evening at sunset.”

  The sultan turned again to Harry. “My reply will be with you shortly. Convey my greetings to your Captain. I shall look forward to meeting him again.”

  Chapter 35

  Broken Peace

  While Harry was busy at the palace, Midshipman Barclay was with a party accompanying the purser and several seamen to the part of the souq that dealt with fresh fruit, vegetables and other provisions. Ferghal was among the group, his task to ensure that the items required by the midshipmen were obtained and their purse was not ruined in the process, slim as it already was. The company agent had provided an interpreter for them, who also acted as guide. He led them deep into the souq, and Ferghal was amazed at the variety of goods and the range of sounds and smells assaulting his senses.