The Hundred Days

by Patrick O'Brian

  Mahmud came clearly into sight on the left, carrying a heavy wild boar, and carrying it high, well to the left to free the stride of his leg. Nearer: nearer: and when he was just past the mid-point, just going from them, Omar rose and shot him, aiming behind the right ear. But though the lion fell he was on his feet again the next moment, roaring with fury. Omar shot him again and this time he fell forward twitching, no other movement.

  But now his lioness was almost there. She lowered her head over him, licking his death-wound and moaning. Then she looked up directly into the cave with the men and charged straight for them in five prodigious bounds.

  Stephen saw her eyes clear in the moonlight: it was a mere fair-ground shot and with real regret he killed her as she rose in her last leap.

  The Dey's huntsmen knew very well that Mahmud was his intended quarry, and when in the still night they heard three shots rather than one it was clear to them that something was very much amiss. Five of them came racing down the nearest path from the camp with torches, and they found their chief and his guest guarding the lions from the jackals and hyenas, drawn by even the faintest smell of death.

  By the light of a great fire they, the second huntsman and his team, skinned Mahmud and his mate, while the headman lit the Dey and his companion back to the camp, Omar most solicitously giving Stephen his hand wherever the going was a little steep.

  As soon as they reached the dell Jacob was summoned from his tent and desired to translate the Dey's gratitude and congratulations, quite remarkably well-phrased and convincing. Stephen begged Jacob to say all that was proper and smiled and bowed, with gestures that disclaimed all merit: but the force of very strong emotion so recently felt but only now fully perceived was mounting so that he wholly longed for silence and his bed.

  'And the Dey says,' Jacob went on, 'that a mule hardened to the task will be sent down to bring the skins up in the morning: while as for Mahmud's cubs, they are perfectly capable of looking after themselves—have already killed several young boars and two fawns—but nevertheless he promises you that they shall be given a sheep or two every week for some months. And as for the foolish tale about gold for the Shiite heretics he assures you that not an ounce, not half an ounce, shall ever pass through Algiers while he is Dey; and he will send the Vizier a direct order to that effect, in case there should ever have been a ghost or perhaps I should say an apparition of misunderstanding or incomprehension.'

  Stephen nodded, smiled and bowed yet again. Omar looked kindly at him and said to Jacob, 'My saviour is himself in need of salvation: pray lead him very quietly away.' He clasped Stephen, imprinted a bristly kiss on his cheek, bowed and withdrew.

  For most of the next day Stephen and Amos Jacob rode well ahead of their companions, for not only did they wish to exchange their impressions of the Dey, which was better done without the confusion of many voices and the sound of many hooves, but they also hoped that by setting a fine brisk pace they would bring the whole group to the Vizier's oasis before nightfall, in spite of having been obliged, by the farewell feast, to start their journey much later than they had wished.

  At one time they thought they might succeed, for they had already travelled this road—the fact of its being known shortened it, and there were few fresh wonders to delay them—furthermore, their own conversation was particularly engrossing. Sometimes, it is true, they discussed the possible origins of the malformation in the hand that Jacob had brought his friend: 'I know that some of Dupuytren's colleagues have blamed the habitual use of reins: and perhaps there is something in it,' observed Jacob.

  'Conceivably,' Stephen replied. 'Yet it was never described before Smectymnus; nor does Xenophon speak of any such complaint; and few men handled reins more than Xenophon.'

  'Well . . .' said Jacob: and after a pause in which his mind clearly drifted to the more immediate subject, 'You have not yet told me your opinion of the Dey.'

  'My first impression was that he was a brute, a mere soldier: a cheerful brute at that moment because he had just succeeded in some mechanical task, but perfectly capable of turning wicked, very wicked. Then, when we went down to lie in wait for the lion, his silence and his steadfast motionless endurance moved my admiration. So did his open, unstinted praise when I shot the lioness, to say nothing of his steadiness in the uneasy moments before she charged. I have, as you know very well, some smattering of Arabic and Turkish, and what he said as he helped me up the slope pleased me very much. So, to a less degree, did the set piece that you translated: no common mind, I thought, could have turned it so well. I was left with the notion of an ideal shooting-companion, very quiet very knowledgeable, courageous of course and jovial when joviality was in place: but apart from that, not an intelligent man. Not positively stupid, like some other highly-placed soldiers, and probably quite subtle in military politics, but not in himself particularly interesting, however likeable.'

  'Did the impalements trouble you?'

  'I loathed them with all my soul, although they are as traditional in some parts as public hanging is in England. But it was not that which made me doubtful about my first impression: after all, sodomy is a hanging offence with us and a matter of burning alive with some others, whereas it is a joke in this country, as it was in ancient Greece. No: after a while I began to wonder whether the simplicity was quite what it seemed, as well as the apparently complete division between Dey and Vizier where foreign affairs were concerned. But you know as well as I do that an excess of mistrust and suspicion is very widely spread in our calling: it sometimes reaches ludicrous proportions.'

  'Two of our colleagues in Marseilles were obliged to be shut up in a mad-house near Aubagne, each convinced that his mistress was poisoning him for the benefit of a foreign power.'

  'In my case it scarcely warranted chains, a bed of straw, and flogging, but it went pretty far: when we paused to eat by the spring I went to my baggage-mule and discovered the Dey's wonderfully handsome, wonderfully discreet present, the American rifle that killed the lioness; but when I had recovered from my astonishment something compelled me to look very carefully indeed at lock, stock and barrel—both barrels—before I could thank him wholeheartedly. A man we both knew was killed by the explosion of a fowling-piece that burst when he fired it—a gift, of course.'

  'William Duran. He was incautious, having to do with such a woman: but still there are limits. One cannot live in a glass globe, like that marvellous person in Breughel. For my part I thought him subtler and more intelligent than you did, for whereas with you he was necessarily dumb, restricted to the hunter, with me, obviously, he spoke a great deal and with a choice of words, particularly in Turkish, and a felicity of expression surprising in a mere soldier. But whether he is clever enough to manage the janissaries, the corsairs and his curious Vizier, I do not know. What was your opinion of the Vizier? You saw much more of him than I did.'

  'A politician of course, but one not without an agreeable side. I should not trust him in any matter of importance.'

  Hootings far behind them, and the blowing of a horn: they turned, and there was the best-mounted of the Turkish guards hurrying after them, the main group being a great way off.

  Jacob relayed his panting words: 'He says that the others cannot keep up: and he fears—all the people fear—that the sirocco will be with us in an hour or two.' Looking southward he added, 'If we had not been prating so eagerly over other men's characters I should have noticed it long before. You see that dark bar over the third mountain range behind us? That is the precursor. Presently the south-east wind will begin to blow and then the much stronger sirocco will reach us, its hot air filled, filled, with very fine sand. You have to have a close-woven cloth over your mouth and nose.'

  'You know this country: tell me what you think we ought to do.'

  'I do not believe it will be a very bad sirocco: we shall probably not reach the oasis and the lodge before dark, but I think we should press on. The sirocco often drops after sunset, and we should have some moonlig
ht to help us on our way. At all events, I think that is better than camping unprepared in the wilderness, with little water and the animals likely to be harassed by wild beasts.'

  'I am sure you are right,' said Stephen: he wheeled his horse and with the other two he rode back gently to meet the band, who greeted them with a cheer. 'Pray ask Ibrahim whether he can guide us after nightfall—whether he will be able to recognize the trail where it is very faint?'

  Ibrahim received the question at first with incredulity and then with as decent a concealment of laughter as he could manage. 'He says he is as competent as seven dogs,' reported Jacob.

  'Then pray tell him that if he succeeds he shall have seven gold pieces; but if he do not, then he must be impaled.'

  Towards the end of their journey, which grew more horrible with every hundred yards traversed, with the dense cloud of fine sand quite hiding the moon and making its way through protective cloth and the hot wind growing stronger, even the seven dogs faltered time and again. Quite often Ibrahim had to beg them to stop, huddled together for protection, while he cast about: but getting them to start again and to leave the slight shelter of the larger animals was another matter. He was repeatedly kicked, pinched, reviled; and he was actually in tears when a rift in the veil of flying sand showed the oasis, with the sparse lanterns of the hunting-lodge. Sparse because almost everybody had gone to bed, and apart from the pair at the main gate the only lamp still glowing was in the room where Ahmed, the undersecretary, was finishing a letter. The porters were obviously unwilling to get up to unbar the gates and open them; but Ahmed, hearing the controversy and recognizing Jacob's voice soon induced them to do their duty.

  He asked Jacob whether he should warn the Vizier. 'By no means at all,' said Jacob, 'but if you could bestow these people, give them food and drink, and allow Dr Maturin and me to have a bath we should both be immeasurably grateful.'

  'All these things shall be done,' said Ahmed. 'I shall rouse some servants. But when you have taken your bath I am afraid you will have to lie in my room again.'

  Down, down, down into a blessed sleep: Stephen, washed clean of sand, even his hair, fed, watered, wrapped in clean linen. Sank to those perfect depths where even the varying howl of the sirocco could not disturb him.

  Nothing but strong determined hands could claw him up to the infinitely unwelcome surface, but this they did, and there was the insufferable Jacob at first light asking him whether he remembered what he had told him about Cainites—insisting upon the word Cainite and even shaking Stephen more fully awake.

  'Your soul to the Devil, Amos: will you give me a sup of water, for the love of God?' And when he had drunk and gasped he said, 'Certainly I remember what you told me about the Cainites of the Beni Mzab and elsewhere, the way they were created by a superior power and bore the mark of Cain.'

  'Yes. Well listen now: Ahmed is a Cainite too. We recognized one another at once. He knows roughly the nature of our visit—he knows that we are not travelling for medical experience or knowledge—he wishes to be useful to us, being entirely on our side, and he offers his services.'

  'Amos, my dear, you are a deeply experienced intelligence agent: tell me in all seriousness how sound a source of information he is, what kind of information he can give, and at what price.'

  'A sounder source we could not wish: as for the kind of information, he has shown me a copy of the Vizier's message to the Sheikh of Azgar, Ibn Hazm, telling him to recall his caravan at once and to load the treasure aboard a wonderfully fast-sailing xebec that has already left for Arzila, a little shallow fishing-harbour in Shiite territory just north of Laraish: Yahya ben Khaled, the captain of the xebec and the most capable and fortunate corsair in Algiers, will wait there with a very strong guard until the wind comes into the west, and then he will sail, passing through the Strait of Gibraltar in the darkness, with the wind and the strong eastward current driving him at great speed, and head straight for Durazzo by the sea-lanes he knows best, the fastest.'

  Stephen sat considering: then he nodded and said, 'There was no mention of reward, I collect?'

  'None. I believe his offer was perfectly straightforward: but I gathered that eventually, by no means as a direct consequence of this affair, a kind word to the governor of Malta, to allow him to set up in Valetta, where he has cousins, would be welcome. It is in no way a condition: nor indeed could it be.'

  'Very well. Tell me, how early do you think we may start? By the way, I no longer hear the wind.'

  'It stopped at half-past four. Obviously we cannot start before the morning prayer: it would not only be very rude but it would also look suspicious. Yet at first light I shall cause the Turkish guards to make ready.'

  'How I hope this vile wind has not plucked Ringle from her moorings or blown Surprise to some leeward shore beyond Sardinia.'

  The period between his getting up, washing, shaving and waiting for the Vizier to appear for the formalities of leave-taking, would have seemed intolerably long but for the fact that Stephen, walking out into what might almost be called the wooded part of the oasis, once more caught sight of his anomalous nuthatch: it was not a particularly shy bird and it allowed him to follow, discreetly taking notes, until Jacob came hurrying through the trees to tell him that the Vizier was in motion but that the Dey's present was nowhere to be found in their baggage: the Turkish guards were distraught—they begged to be told what they should do.

  'I do not think that any of our escort would have dared to steal it: but it may be the resumption of a regretted gift—I know that Omar Pasha thought the world of the pair,' said Stephen. 'I am sorry for it, because I valued the rifle for its associations and for the manner of its giving. Though there are other possibilities, of course. I shall not mention the loss.'

  Nor did he mention it; but a man far less subtle than the Vizier could have told from his short though civil answers that he was not quite pleased. His first voluntary remark was, 'I am afraid, sir, that we must tear ourselves from your presence at the end of this excellent cup.'

  'I very much regret that I was not told of your arrival,' said the Vizier. 'I should have enjoyed several more hours of your company. But I trust you were satisfied by your conversation with the Dey?'

  'Perfectly satisfied, I thank you, sir,' said Stephen, finishing his coffee and standing up. 'But now, if you will forgive me, a very long road lies ahead. Let me first make the fullest acknowledgement of your remarkable hospitality, and then allow me to beg that you will transmit all my due respects to His Highness and my thanks for his kindness.'

  Chapter Eight

  A long road it was and a weary, deep in fine sand wherever there was shelter, while the gardens on the outskirts of Algiers, when at last they reached them, were desolation itself, with greenery all hanging limp, shattered and seared, but for the most part blown right off to lie in withering heaps. And from an outward turn on the mountain road which gave them a clear view of the port and both harbours, it was clear to Stephen's searching telescope that Ringle was not there, snug against the mole. Nor was she in the offing: he barely had the heart to search the horizon for the larger, more conspicuous sails of Surprise, yet he did so for a full minute before clapping his glass to with disappointment.

  'My dear Amos,' he said some time later, 'may I beg you to settle accounts with our guide and these good Turks, to give them a farewell feast at whatever place you judge most fit, together with a present, and then to join me at the consulate. I can see the roof and flagstaff from here.'

  Jacob looked doubtful, but he agreed and they parted at the next forking of the road. Stephen could hardly have missed his way, in spite of the anxiety, reasonable and unreasonable, that kept welling up in his heart, for this was the mare's own ground and she increased her pace to a pleasant amble, threading her way through the increasing number of asses, camels, oxen and horses until she brought him to the gate, gave him time to dismount, and then walked off to her own stable.

  In spite of his anxiety Stephen had no
ticed an air of excitement in the city as he rode well into it: groups of people, talking louder than usual, gazing about, making gestures whose meaning escaped him—so many people that sometimes they almost blocked the way, and the placid mare had to push through: no harsh words, however, excitement overcoming all other emotions. It is true that Stephen, who had retained his sirocco headgear, did not look at all out of the way.

  He was, however, at once recognized by the unfortunate young man in the outer office, who begged him to sit down—he would tell Lady Clifford at once.

  'Dear Dr Maturin,' she cried, 'how very glad I am to see you. Did you have an unspeakably horrid ride? I am afraid so. A really shocking sirocco like that makes you long for the Yorkshire moors.'

  'Certainly: but may I ask how Sir Peter does?'

  'Oh, very well indeed, I thank you—I have never seen such a change in him—no, nor known a better pill. I take two myself, one in the morning and one before bed. But will you not come and see him? He keeps his room, because he has a great deal of work and people are such a bore: besides, his chief secretary is sick.'

  The consul sprang up, not indeed quite like a lion, but very much more briskly than might have been expected in a man so recently crippled by what looked very like an exacerbated sciatica. 'Dr Maturin,' he cried, taking both Stephen's hands, 'how very much obliged I am to you and your colleague for your precious remedies. I have scarcely thought about that shocking pain these last three days; and—forgive me, my dear—such a benign and healing purgation. Sit down, sit down, I beg. You must have had a cruel hard ride of it. Did you meet two or three squadrons of horse on your way back?'

  'No, sir.'

  'They must have taken the lower road. But tell me, how did your journey go? My dear'—to Lady Clifford—'you will excuse us, will you not?'