"I agree." Richard Grenville was a stickler for safety and had added his own strictures to the more colourful views expressed by the Engineering Commander. He hesitated. "Have you seen the latest reports coming in from the Colony on Pangaea? Seems that the election there has been declared null and void. There's a court case pending over vote rigging and gerrymandering, but the current governor is remaining in office even though he apparently lost the election by a landslide."
"I have seen that. It doesn't look or sound very good. There was a report that the Interplanetary Development lot have dispossessed a number of settlers and seized control – they say fairly by outright purchase – of all the mineral assets there. From the sound of it the local operators and miners didn't have much choice." He frowned. "And Brussels seems to be doing its usual dither. The debate in Strasbourg was a joke. Caught it on the news – they can't seem to decide whose side they are on or even who they actually represent anymore."
"So it seems," the Exec agreed. "Last week there was a big exposé when it was revealed that around a hundred of the buggers are being paid to represent some big commercial interests. Sounds as if they are trying to get the law changed to allow more takeovers of colonial assets by IPD or some of the other big players."
"No wonder the colony worlds aren't happy. I wouldn't be – doing all the work in environments that are only just human tolerant only to have some of the big money men move in and take away everything you've worked for. That seems to be the Pangaea situation."
"Well, as they say, that's for the politicians to sort out. But, by the look of it, if it doesn't go the way some interested parties want it to at the ballot box – they just cancel the election, rush into court and claim it's been manipulated." The Executive Commander grimaced. "Didn't someone once say that democracy was the worst of all systems – except for all the others?"
"I believe so." The Captain smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, we have a ship to run and to get up to efficiency. What's on the programme for tomorrow's exercises?"
-
Chapter 28 — A Mission to Muscat
The Spartan and her charges eased into the great natural harbour of Bombay on the first of the monsoon. Overhead great columns of cloud threatened lightning and rain. The wind was, as yet, gentle so that the ships were barely making headway. The recovered Company brig led the way with the Spartan towing the captured Dhow. The ships edged deeper into the crowded bay, a guard boat dancing ahead as they neared the city and sought the anchorage assigned them. It had been a short and challenging voyage and even now the Dhow's original crew were confined below decks. Their strange prayer habits, refusal to eat almost all the meat put before them and loose cotton clothes, so alien to Harry and his companions, instantly setting them apart from their surroundings.
The guard boat signalled and Spartan heeled into a turn even as her sails vanished under the hands of the topmen.
Mister Beasley called, "On station. Let go." The anchor plunged into the murky water even as the ship completed her turn into the wind. The cable was only just belayed when there was a great flash of lightning from the piled clouds overhead and a tremendous clap of thunder followed instantly, seemingly shaking the ship itself. Then the heavens opened in a downpour that soaked everyone on deck to the skin in seconds.
"Welcome to the East, Mister Bell," remarked the Captain, taking shelter beneath the break of the poop. "I am told these deluges seldom last – but I think it would be wise to ship our awnings while we are here."
As he spoke the rain began to ease and the sun once more broke through to raise steam from the rain slicked decks. Mister Bell gave orders for the awnings to Lieutenant Beasley and then asked, "What of the prisoners, sir? Shall I arrange to have them sent ashore?"
"Perhaps the best option." The Captain considered a moment. "But hold off the transfer until I have seen the Governor and the Company agent. The company will no doubt wish to discover the reason their diplomatic agent and the crew of the brig were seized."
***
"That is easily answered, Captain Blackwood," said Governor Duncan, welcoming the Captain to the well-appointed and airy office. "Our Agent was en route to the Sultan of Oman. It seems our agreement with His Majesty is now to be subjected to an attempt to frustrate it by the French. I have had word today that Bonaparte has broken the terms of the Peace and is amassing the Grande Armee on the channel coast. No doubt the King and Parliament will be even now re-arming the ships laid up in Portsmouth, Chatham and elsewhere." He frowned. "It is, of course, possible that they hope to form an alliance and revive the late war in Mysore. Though with Tipu Sultan dead and his henchmen scattered and hunted, I doubt they can hope to achieve much."
"That is fortunate for our case. But why would they have travelled in these Dhows? Unless it was to escape notice somewhere along this coast," Captain Blackwood replied.
"As you say, and perhaps that is the intent." The Governor was silent a moment then he said, "Captain, I must ask you to take a new agent to Muscat on my behalf. I had wished to send a more powerful ship in the first place but none was then available. Perhaps a show of strength will nip this in the bud and arrest the French efforts to stir the Arabian princes into joining their unholy alliance."
"As you wish, sir. My ship can be ready to depart within two days; we must needs obtain some replenishment of fresh supplies while we are able."
"Have your purser supply my clerk with the list of your requirements and I will instruct our victuallers to supply these at Company rates."
***
For Harry, Kit and the other Midshipmen, Bombay was a fascinating place. A thriving hub and a meeting place for several cultures. Brightly coloured saris rubbed shoulders with sombre robes on some of the men, lower caste men and women wore less exotic garb and here and there Musim women went about their business in variations of the veil, burka or simply a headscarf covering their hair. Intricately decorated facades fronted the bay, one large building being identified by the First as a palace.
"A Maharajah, I think the owner is styled. A sort of Prince under the former Moghul Emperors," he told the midshipmen as the stared in awe at the crowded quays and buildings along the frontage.
As in Colombo, mosques rubbed shoulders with temples and even churches. Though these were decorated in a manner Harry was sure old Mister Paisley, the minister in his home parish would not have approved. Even the ship's own Parson, a man of liberal outlook on matters of faith for the most part, was shocked at the decoration of one church he visited.
"I saw no difference between it and the heathen temples with their false gods and goddesses cavorting in every niche," he exclaimed as he settled in the sternsheets of the launch to be rowed back to the ship. "I am not sure that they even understand the good book's strictures against idolatry."
Harry, in charge of the boat, held his tongue and let Mister Bentley run on. Though soon the clergyman drifted away from his shock at a church filled with carved images all brightly decorated and painted, some even dressed with garlands of flowers, and into a discourse on the local flora and fauna. He had, it appeared, encountered a team of elephants engaged in dragging goods to a warehouse and had taken the opportunity to examine one of the beasts at close quarters.
"Remarkable animal," he told Harry. "They respond only to their handler, though the beast purloined fruit and some specimens from my satchel with its trunk while I examined its hide."
Harry had to hide his smile. Knowing the Parson as he did, he could well imagine him becoming so engrossed that he would not notice the beast engaged in examining the contents of his bag. "A bold thief, sir," he managed as they swung alongside the ship and he gave his attention once more to the task of managing the boat. "Toss your oars. Bowman, hook on."
***
As the Master had described, the approach to Muscat was a tortuous one. Fortune favoured them for the wind was favourable, though it required them to enter with every sail braced hard round so that the ship lay as close to
the wind as possible. They slipped past the ancient battery guarding the entrance with the early light of a clear dawn and made their way up the harbour toward the fort occupying the crown of a rocky islet joined to the mainland by a low sandy isthmus.
"A pity we could not use the southern entrance," Mister Wentworth told the Captain, "But the channel there is too shallow for anything larger than a small dhow – I doubt me that even a cutter could make the passage without striking ground there."
"Worth remembering," replied the Captain studying the shoreline. "These islands are deceptive, without them this harbour could not exist." He swung the telescope again. "We will anchor where those Dhows will be betwixt us and the battery at the Fort – what is its designation?"
"Fort Jallaly, sir," responded the Master. "The residence of the Sultan lies between it and the Fort Al Minari atop that outcrop, or so I was informed."
"Very well, fire the usual salute to a Sultan if you please, Mister Bell. Twenty-one guns I think should satisfy diplomacy. Once we are at anchor have my gig hoisted out and I will take myself ashore to call on the Sultan's residence." He turned as he was joined by the Company Agent appointed in Bombay. "We are about to anchor Mister Stewart, I expect we will need to call immediately on the Sultan?"
"Certainly, Captain." The agent was self assured and spoke with a drawl typical of many scion's of a noble family. "We do have an agent here, a native, Mohammad Tanha is his name. I would expect him to come out to the ship and to accompany us to the palace. In these matters one has to 'oil the wheels' a trifle, you understand, and we employ the agent to do that."
"I understand that an exchange of gifts is usual in these parts," the Captain said.
"That is so, with the His Majesty at least. But smaller 'tokens' for the intermediaries are necessary to reach the Sultan." The agent shrugged. "One purchases one's position in the administration and then recoups one's capital by means of these small 'fees' charged for the performance of one's duty. Not dissimilar to some matters in our own society."
The first of the saluting guns began to bang out as the ship rounded into the wind and the great anchor plunged beneath the surface, the reply from the fort was ragged by the standards of Spartan's Gunner. Mister Spink ferociously recited a rhyme which ensured that each shot was exactly evenly spaced as his chosen crew worked frantically around him to reload the pair of bowchasers used for the salute.
The last shot was still reverberating when the lookout aloft in the main crosstrees called, "Deck there – boat putting off from the shore."
***
The boat carried the Company's agent. Mohammad Tanha was a swarthy man with an open face and a polite manner. He was dressed in loose cotton robes and loose fitting trousers with his feet clad in finely made shoes and a turban on his head. He greeted Captain Blackwood with a slight bow and a hand placed over his heart as he said, "Welcome Captain, to Muscat. May peace attend your stay."
Robert Blackwood had already been primed for the greeting and acknowledged it by raising his hat and returning the bow saying, "May peace attend you. Welcome aboard my ship."
The visitor smiled and said, "I have already sent word to the Sultan of your arrival and your desire to meet him. There is much business to discuss, yes?"
"Indeed there is." Mister Stewart stepped forward. "Peace be with you, Mohammad. Do you have any news for us?" He glanced at the Captain and said, "Perhaps we could retire to your cabin to hear it, Captain?"
"Certainly." Captain Blackwood stepped forward and signalled his visitor to precede him, then followed the agents, now speaking Arabic, beneath the poop and into the great cabin. He signalled the servant and asked, "Some refreshment perhaps? I have tea recently acquired in Ceylon, or wine – our water is almost undrinkable Mister Tanha."
"Tea will be acceptable for us all I think." Mister Stewart took control and added, "If we are to call upon the Sultan we should avoid wine – he is renowned for the strictness of his observance of the rules regarding wine in his faith, Captain."
"Tea then." Captain Blackwood nodded and the servant withdrew silently.
"To business – Mohammad informs me that the two surviving Dhows that attacked the brig Mowglhi are at anchor further up the coast, in Mutrah. The French have recently established a consulate there and officers have begun arriving from Ile de France, taking great interest apparently in the trade that passes through these waters."
"It is fortunate that you arrive at this time, Captain," Mohammad Tanha interjected. "They have the ear of the Sultan's uncle. A man the Sultan listens to in matters of trade." He glanced at his fellow Company agent and said, "It is he that owns the Dhows involved in seizing the brig."
"I see," said Captain Blackwood. "What word is there of the men seized in the brig?"
"The Lascari seamen are apparently held for sale as slaves," Mister Stewart said. "Our agent is held in the uncle's palace according to our information and it is certain his message or the treaty drafts have not reached the Sultan." He paused. "As I have no doubt you are aware Captain, the Sultan of Oman rules much of the Arabian peninsula, and the Eastern Coast of Africa in the vicinity of Zanzibar from which they draw a great deal of wealth in the form of slaves and the spices cultivated there. He also rules in parts of the Persian coast and is a powerful figure in the Makran coast of India. His good offices are a major concern to us. A most important trading partner for both ourselves and the French."
"So I understand," Captain Blackwood agreed. "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 a request that we have the crew 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 and said, "If you can arrange it Captain, I suggest we go now, perhaps some of your Marines to guard our boats – they also serve as a reminder that we have soldiers aboard."
The local agent said, "Sir Captain, I will go in my boat ahead of you to ensure that the gates of the palace are open to you when you arrive." He bowed and, after a brief exchange with Mister Stewart in Arabic, left.
-
Chapter 29 — 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 and the Captain turned to the Coxswain and said, "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 and watch. Use your discretion – a man will not last long in this heat in full uniform."
"Aye, aye, sor," both chorused 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, or so Mister Stewart informed them, were remarkably cool inside. "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' in fact housed no sentry as he had thought they might 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 and hid their faces – some completely, while others simply used a fold of their head scarf 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."
Their Lordships Request: A Harry Heron Adventure Page 25
