Midshipman Graham and the Battle of Abukir

by James Boschert

  Sir Sidney had been sleeping but woke up to the discreet knock and called out, “Enter.” Lt Bowles poked his head inside the door. “You asked me to notify you the moment the boats returned, Sir. It’s Midshipman Tewksby, he’s back but there is something you should know.”

  Sir Sidney Smith sighed. It had been a tiring day and now a long night. “So I did. Bring him in.” Sidney rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, got out of bed and put on a silk dressing gown, then called to his steward for some light. He stood waiting as Bowles ushered the young midshipman into the cabin, just as his steward brought two oil lamps and placed them on his desk.

  In the glow of the lamps the boy looked disheveled, paler than usual and very nervous. Sidney noticed that his left arm was in a sling. There was still dried blood on the sleeve of his jacket which was draped over his thin shoulders. His shirt and trousers were torn in places and his shoes badly scuffed. Sidney took all this in within a moment and immediately said, “Sit down, boy. You look as though you have been wounded. I hope it’s not serious?”

  Tewksby gave a brave nod and staggered to the cabin chair. “It’s nothing, Sir. Just… just a graze.” He winced theatrically as he sat down.

  Sidney shot a glance at his lieutenant, but that worthy kept an impassive face. It was almost as though the boy was putting on a little bit of a show.

  Nonetheless he quickly poured a tot of brandy from his the precious supply on the side table, offered it to the midshipman and said, “What happened out there? I want to hear all of it, Mr Tewksby.”

  “We were surprised by the French when we went inland to scout, Sir,” Tewksby said, as he sipped the brandy with a shaking hand.

  “Where is Mr Graham? Should he not be here too?” Sidney demanded.

  “Er... during the confusion he was lost. He… he… er… didn’t make it to the boats, Sir.”

  Sir Sidney exchanged a concerned glance with Lt Bowles.

  “You’d better start from the beginning and tell us all about it, Mr Tewksby.”

  Chapter 20

  Chameleon

  Duncan and Captain Williams passed a very uncomfortable night in the hut. The original owners having departed, it seemed to Duncan that most of the insect world had decided to take up residence in their stead. After initially sleeping deeply he half woke and scratched and tossed restlessly in his new clothes, wishing fervently that he had not been so stupid as to land himself in this predicament. He eventually fell asleep again, only to be shaken awake immediately after by his bearded companion.

  “Come along Graham, it’s time to get going,” Williams said in a whisper. He left Duncan to crawl groggily to his feet, yawning with fatigue, and went outside. Duncan could hear water splashing and then footsteps. Williams came back into the house just as the sun was peeking over the flat line of the east. He regarded Duncan critically in the pale light.

  “You are not too tall, that’s one good thing, but you are light of hair and we cannot have that. You’ll need to keep the hood of your bisht over your head at all times, and I’ll still have to do something about your face and hands.” He rummaged about outside for a few moments, and Duncan moved to the entrance to see what he was doing.

  Williams was crushing some old charcoal into powder. “Come over here,” he commanded. Duncan reluctantly complied. Williams proceeded to smear the charcoal all over his face and forehead, then his neck, and told him to rub the dust into the back of his hands. After that Williams mixed some of the charcoal with some water and rubbed it into Duncan’s hair, after which he stood back with a critical look at his handiwork.

  “Well, you look more like a fellaheen now, but you are going to have to stoop your shoulders and shuffle. These sandals will help with that." He tossed a couple of old grass sandals onto the ground in front of Duncan. “You’re not on the ship now, so do not comport yourself like an officer. And for God’s sake don’t say a word, nor look at anyone. Keep your eyes on the ground as much as you can. Few people hereabouts have blue eyes,” he finished.

  Duncan nodded without saying anything. He itched mightily in the filthy robe, and now his face was hot from the charcoal and mud. He rubbed at the bristles of a day old beard with a filthy paw.

  “All right, take that bundle of our clothing and carry it draped over your shoulder, and take one of those sticks and we shall be off. For God’s sake don’t sweat so much, Graham. You’ll cause the make-up to streak and we can’t have that, can we?”

  “No, Sir,” Duncan replied glumly.

  My name, for your information is now Ahmed. You will be Sindi and we are from the Beni Oufi tribe. Let me do all the talking, should that be necessary.”

  They came out onto the road just in time to see the dust from a cavalry unit disappearing in the direction of the guns of Abukir, which were still at work but in a more desultory manner, pounding the old fort and its unfortunate inmates to rubble.

  Williams and Duncan set off to follow in the tracks of the cavalry, their destination the city just to the south of Abukir.

  They saw the cloud of dust before they realized what it was. A small detachment of cavalry were galloping towards them. They hastily departed the road and concealed themselves in some scrub and bushes. The detachment of horsemen thundered past the horse’s hooves throwing up a lot of dust but then they disappeared down the road leaving a light pall of dust in the air.

  “I’ll wager they were going to investigate the incident of last night,” Captain Williams stated. “Come along, Graham, we need to get into the city as soon as possible.”

  After this there was almost no traffic, which Williams put down to the presence of the French army. On one more occasion they had to get out of the way as a large patrol of Blue Coats marched briskly towards them. They were unable to hide anywhere, as the area was flat with irrigation canals crisscrossing the countryside, so they got off the road and down a bank where they huddled, pretending to be poor peasants, while the French marched past. The sergeant and corporal in charge gave them a glance. The sergeant seemed to pause for a few seconds before shaking his head and turning away. Once they were well past and almost out of sight, the two British men regained the road and hurried along.

  “Phew!” exclaimed Williams in an undertone. “For a moment there I thought that sergeant wanted to look us over.”

  As they approached the area occupied by the French army, the road became much more busy with infantry units marching to and fro and cavalry squadrons trotting past. Several field artillery pieces drawn by sweating horses charged by, leaving clouds of choking dust behind. No one paid any attention to the two men, but Williams, in an undertone, told Duncan to pay attention to the numbers and activity.

  The French camp was a sea of tents of all sizes with some still being erected. Cooking fires were smoking and men were lining up to be fed while others were inspected by their fastidious NCOs. To their right they could now hear much more clearly the boom of the guns firing at the fort. The firing went on without interruption, leaving a pall of gray smoke hanging over the peninsula.

  “We will have to report what we have seen to the admiral once we’re out of this mess, and I want to be as accurate as possible,” Williams murmured. “This is what is left of the French army in Egypt.” He then encouraged Duncan to pick up the pace.

  They were almost past the army encampment when they heard the sound of many horses and a shout from behind, and Williams seized Duncan’s arm to pull him out of the way of a group of Arab horsemen who were galloping along the road in the direction of the city. The riders paid no attention to the two peasants other than to shout at them.

  “Get off the road! Get out of the way of His Honor, the Sheikh Zahsad ibn Ahwad!” The lead riders shouted and waved their whips threateningly.

  The road at this point had narrowed and was running along a bank, so they had no choice but to stumble down the low embankment and get their feet muddy while the horsemen boiled past in a cloud of dust. It was poor consolation to see that a straggle of
other peasants on the way to the city had to get off the road and stand in the mud too.

  “Arrogant bastard,” muttered Williams.

  “D’you know them, S… Ahmed?’ Duncan asked.

  “The Sheikh? Yes, everyone does. He is a dangerous man and has signed up with the French. Wouldn’t do to fall into his hands. Not many of the Arab chieftains have sided with the French, but some have. That is, until something changes their minds and they switch sides.”

  They followed the fellaheen who had regained the road, keeping some distance between them, as Captain Williams didn’t want to be trapped into a conversation that might expose them. Graham hefted his bundle, wishing desperately for his shoes. They had only to walk a few miles, but the sandals the captain had provided were almost useless, and now with mud all over his feet he could feel blisters beginning to form. He forced himself not to limp and bravely kept up with the striding Williams, who seemed to be observing everything around him with a keen eye.

  It was nearly noon by the time they arrived at the gates of the city. Alexandria was a walled city, but there were many dwellings clustered outside the walls, as the city had not been threatened for a very long time. The hovels, some small palm groves and walled-off estates indicated that the area had enjoyed peaceful times. Indeed the gates were not even closed when the growing pedestrian traffic approached and they were allowed through by bored Egyptian guards supported by French Blue coats.

  Duncan breathed a sigh of relief as they passed this first test. No one had even glanced at him, and neither did the peasants around them seem to have any interest. As the travelers converged they were surrounded by a dense flock of smelly, wooly sheep and goats that bleated constantly, pushing and shoving their way through the gates along with the peasants. The noise and smell were overpowering, and Duncan could feel the sweat trickling down his face, which set him worrying for his disguise. It would scarcely do for runnels of perspiration to reveal his pale skin and freckles. He pulled his hood further over his head and kept pace with Williams, who was walking just ahead of him.

  After passing through the gates, which Williams, in a low voice, said were the Canobic Gates, they joined the throng of people, lumbering camels, and heavily-loaded donkeys walking down what Williams called the Road of Thirty Strada. Straight as an arrow, it ran off into the west of the city, where Duncan could see in the distance ruins sticking up into the sky. The city appeared old and unkempt to his critical eye. While they were walking, Williams paused from time to time as though checking his surroundings. After following the crowd for about three hundred paces, he drew Duncan by his sleeve off to the left side of the main street.

  “We are not far from our destination,” he murmured in Duncan’s ear. “See over there,” he pointed with his chin to the south, where some tall ruins jutted up over the other buildings looking like rotten teeth.

  “That’s the old Gymnasium. We are in the Greek quarter of the city,” he said cryptically. Duncan could not have cared less about the ruins but had never been more relieved that they might at last be arriving at their destination.

  His feet were killing him and he was sweating copiously under the rough covering of his bisht. He was sure that at any moment they would be exposed. However, the townspeople and the visiting fellaheen had other preoccupations and were well used to ignoring others as they went about their daily tasks. Another filthy fellaheen carrying an awkward bundle did not interest them in the least.

  Williams led the way along some very narrow streets; in some places the houses seemed to almost be touching at their top stories, in others crumbling arches with gaps in the stones that looked like missing teeth curved overhead, and then the street would take a sharp turn. Neither was the street well maintained: filth of every description littered the dry streets, giving them a musty odor of neglect and old rot. Duncan had to put his sleeve over his nose in places, the smell was so bad. Wooden doorways that were deeply ingrained by the sun and had never seen a coat of paint and barred windows hid the occupants, although he could hear shouting going on in some houses as they hurried past.

  In the distance he heard for the first time since being near or in Egypt the hypnotic sound of the muezzin as the prayers for noon were called all around the city. He became aware of a calm settling over the city, and their back street became if anything more quiet, the only sound now the slap of their sandals and the buzz of thousands of flies around something putrid farther down the street.

  Williams paused at a heavy-looking wooden door that was studded with iron nails. It had once been adorned with blue paint which had peeled to mere shreds. He raised a large bronze knocker and banged twice. The sound reverberated along the street. Duncan peered about furtively, hoping no one was paying them any attention. Apart from an old man sleeping in the alcove of another house, and a dog lying in the shade of an archway which cocked an ear at the sound, there was no one. A huge rat, indifferent to both their presence and that of the dog, ambled slowly along the drain in the middle of the street.

  It was a relief to hear footsteps on the other side of the door. A voice spoke and Williams responded. Although he should have expected it, Duncan was surprised to hear his officer speaking rapid Arabic. After a brief conversation there was the scraping of iron on iron, the door was pulled open a crack, and a dark, hawk-nosed man peered out at them. He stared at them and then nodded, indicating with one hand that they should enter quickly. After they had eased through the doorway he immediately shut the door and ran some long iron bars into slots in the wall, securing it shut.

  He led the way along a dark, vaulted passage to emerge into the velvety silence of a stone-paved courtyard that was empty of people but at the center of which was a small fountain that burbled quietly to itself. Surrounding the small fountain was a well-maintained garden. Several orange trees and a pomegranate shrub with hanging fruit provided shade. The whole was in direct contrast to the shabby and unkempt street outside.

  They were ushered into a large airy room on the second floor that overlooked the trees and the fountain, where their guide left them with a brief comment in Arabic. Williams nodded and waved Duncan over to the grill that passed for a verandah window.

  “You are going to find things a little different here, Graham. We are safe for the time being, but we must be very careful all the same.

  “What is this place, Sir?” Duncan replied, looking around him at the richly decorated silk cushions and low tables of what could only be a wealthy man’s house. He thought he saw a water pipe device on one of the tables, while on others there were papers and even books.

  “Why, Mr Graham, we are in a brothel,” Captain Williams replied with a wry grin.

  Alexandria

  Chapter 21

  The House of Paradise

  Duncan was still getting over his surprise when a tall, slim man with a greying beard and fine turban walked silently into the room. He was dressed like most of his countrymen in a long loose, collarless robe of fine cotton material and wide sleeves that came down to his wrists. His fingers were bejeweled with gold and precious stones, denoting a man of leisure and wealth.

  “Salam Aliekom,” he said in a low tone and smiled. His sharp, dark eyes were deep-set in a long, pale face but they were friendly enough.

  Williams beamed. “Aliekom Salam, Danush. How good to see you again!”

  Danush’s smile broadened and he stepped forward to clasp Williams by the hand. “You are always welcome here in my house,” he said in French.

  “I could wish it were under better circumstances, my friend,” Williams responded, and he turned to introduce Duncan, who bowed politely and said, “It is an honor to meet a friend of Mr Williams, Sir.”

  Danush looked pleased. “Aha, your companion speaks French too. That is useful. But his disguise is… er, rather basic, is it not?” he murmured, staring at Duncan critically. “Who are you that is dressed like a fellaheen but is clearly not one?”

  Williams gave him a rueful grin. “It suff
iced to get us past the French army and into the city, but I don’t think it could have taken us much farther than your house without detection.”

  “I must ask you, Williams, what does bring you here in these uncertain times? I had not expected to see you for a while yet,” Danush said, with a glance at the door to the room. “We are perfectly safe here, but I always like to be careful. The French really do have ears everywhere at present.”

  “We, or rather my young companion here and his men, were surprised by a patrol of infantry when they were out looking for water. I heard the exchange of fire. I had not gone far, so I came back and found him, whose name by the way is Midshipman Graham, cut off from his boats,” he paused. “I think the rest of his men got away, but there was no going back; the French would be waiting and would likely bag us if we returned there to be picked up.”

  Danush contemplated Graham for a long moment. “Well, the first thing we should do is to provide you with food and a bath. You look as though you could do with both.”

  Williams smiled his wry smile. “Of that I am sure. He speaks no Arabic, so he must not move around until we can figure out how to leave the city. I had hoped to perhaps bribe a fisherman to take us out to the fleet, which is due to come back sometime to blockade the harbor.”

  Danush looked surprised. “I thought the fleet would remain at Abukir. Is that not where the fighting is?” he asked. “I know the French defeated the Turks but we can still hear the guns, even from Alexandria. We assumed the British were targeting the French as they did at Acre.”