Their Lordships Request: A Harry Heron Adventure

by Patrick G Cox

  "What does he say?" demanded Ferghal.

  "He says you will make a fine replacement for the slaves the Sultan has forced them to surrender."

  "Be damned to that," said Ferghal, getting ready to go down fighting.

  A shouted order from behind their attackers froze the tableaux.

  "Marines, ready!"

  Around them the Arabs seemed to melt away, the numbers thinning swiftly until only the Spartan's stood huddled about the small cart they had with them. Away to their left, in the direction of the interior, came the sounds of a swift scuffle and several shots. Captain Kriesler of the Spartan's Marines stepped forward, "Mister Barclay, Purser. I rather fancy that lot will give us no further trouble." Over his shoulder he called, "Sergeant, form up and let us get back to the ship. His Majesty will expect us to be presentable when he pays us a visit later."

  "We have not completed the purchases of our stores, sir," Midshipman Barclay protested as they marched away between the two lines of red coats.

  "No, I should be surprised if you had." The Captain was as irritatingly laconic as always. "However, our agent has obtained the supplies the ship required and the Sultan has sent gifts to both the Wardroom and the Gunroom which will more than make up for any shortfall I do assure you."

  "How the did you know where we were?" Barclay couldn't resist asking the question all of the party wanted too. "Are we not forbidden to land in force like this in a sovereign state?"

  "As you say," the Captain said in an off-handed tone. "We are indeed forbidden to do so – unless invited by the ruler of course. The Sultan invited our Captain to send us ashore to assist him in acting on intelligence that an attempt was to be made to cause an incident. His spies have had you in their eyes since you set out. They sent word and the commander of the Sultan's guard led us straight to you while his men blocked the other fellows' escape route." He eyed Midshipman Barclay casually and said, "You were, it seems, intended to be a fuse in a diplomatic powder keg our French friends have set up here. The Sultan was not keen to have it blown by anyone but himself."

  The waterfront was now open before them and the group marched smartly down to the waiting boats. The Marines boarded in their usual impeccable order while the seamen loaded the stores they had obtained and then themselves. It was a very thoughtful party that returned to the Spartan.

  ***

  The Sultan timed his visit to the ship impeccably, arriving in some state with his entourage aboard an ornately decorated Dhow. In the usual courtesies, a gun salute was fired as he ducked through the entry port and the Royal Marine detachment stamped to the present arms in a storm of pipeclay and the twittering of the side party's pipes. Then, with a great crashing of drums, the Marine Band launched into their salute as the Sultan's personal flag broke at the forepeak. As the noise abated again, Captain Blackwood stepped forward and welcomed the Royal visitor.

  "Your Majesty, welcome aboard His Most Britannic Majesty's Ship Spartan. May I present to you my officers?"

  Passing along the line of lieutenants, the Sultan acknowledged each in turn and then reached the midshipmen. He paused when he reached Harry and said, "I thought you should see my clasp in its proper setting." He indicated the exquisite silver object in his turban. "I think you see now why it is regarded as so precious to the Sultanate?"

  Harry bowed, blushing at being singled out and conscious of the glowers of Barclay and his friends. "I do your Majesty. It is singularly beautiful in its workmanship and in its intended purpose." Already in his sketch pad there was a rough sketch of the Sultan's face and his robes with annotations describing colours and textures. Now he could barely wait to add a sketch of the magnificent turban and its clasp.

  The Sultan moved on and the Captain led the way up onto the poop, sensibly having decided that this offered the best place for the style of dinner that would best suit their guests. Overhead an awning shielded them from the dew and the addition of screens along the ship's sides left the 'tent' airy and pleasant – far more pleasant than the fetid heat trapped below decks even with all the ports raised and wind scoops set.

  Thanks to the efforts of Mister Tanha and his staff, the repast was fit for a devout Muslim ruler. A variety of delicacies adorned the trestles erected by the carpenter and his mates, with fresh tea, coffee and – to the midshipmen's delight – cocoa. Dishes of fish, sliced venison, peacock and other birds were presented to their ravenous gaze and made all the more desirable by the stricture that their guests must have first choice of everything and the midshipmen must stand back until all the visitors and the more senior officers and guests had eaten their fill.

  "Just our luck," grumbled Kit Tanner. "The feast to end all feasts and we're allowed only the crumbs from the tables."

  "Cheer up," said Harry. "At least the crumbs are like to be worth waiting for."

  "True," responded Kit. "But my stomach wants to sample it now!"

  "Well, we should get there before Barclay at any rate," Harry replied. "I gather the expedition to the Souq was hardly a success."

  "Hello," said Kit. "Look out; one of the Sultan's people is heading for us."

  "And he is bringing food," said Harry. "I think we have been singled out for some compliment – Mister Tanha was explaining the matter of dining to me – and you select and send choice dishes to someone you wish to honour."

  "Well you seem to have a friend in high places then, for I think this platter is for you," Kit said enviously. "And Eamon is looking murderous. You'd best watch your step for the next few days."

  The man stopped in front of Harry and presented the platter. Mohammad Tanha appeared as if by magic at Harry's elbow. "The Sultan has personally sent this platter. You need to accept it and return the compliment."

  Harry accepted the plate and said, "Thank you, please convey my thanks to his majesty with," he looked about desperately at the nearest trestle. "What do I do – choose something to return?"

  "Not immediately," the agent said. "First eat the food he has sent, then make a selection yourself and respond." He paused as Harry sampled the delicacies and said softly, "His majesty was most impressed by your loyalty to your Captain. He admires loyalty in those he meets and pays you a high compliment."

  "I'm deeply honoured I am sure," Harry tried to think how he had shown loyalty that the Sultan might consider commendable. He spotted Ferghal – turned out in striped shirt and clean duck trousers with shoes on his feet and a black neckerchief tied at his throat – standing ready to serve the guests and the hosting officers, and signalled him to come over. The platter was by now and almost magically empty, such was his hunger he had swallowed most of it almost without tasting. "Ferghal, I need to choose the choicest things here for the Sultan, what is on offer?"

  Ferghal chuckled. "Better fare than any we have ever seen, Master Harry, but I suggest the goose breast yonder, perhaps with some of this," he indicated a platter of small fishes dressed with fragrant herbs and slices of lime. "And these Quail eggs may find favour as well."

  Harry quickly selected several items and presented this to the waiting attendant. With a small bow he said, "My thanks to his majesty and I hope he will find these dishes to his taste."

  This was quickly translated and the servant made his way to where the Sultan sat with the Captain and the Company's diplomat.

  Mister Bell joined the two midshipmen as the Sultan accepted the platter and acknowledged Harry. "Well, well, Mister Heron, quite the diplomat I see." He smiled, "Gentlemen, it is now open season on the dinner – I see you are quite starving, Mister Tanner, best eat before you waste away entirely." He moved on to speak to several important looking Omanis who had come with the Sultan, the local agent accompanying him and translating on his behalf.

  "Phew," breathed Harry. "I did not expect that. Here, what happened ashore while I was running errands to the palace?"

  "I don't have the full story," Kit answered, checking that Midshipman Barclay was elsewhere. "But it seems they were more or less pushed aw
ay from the market they were supposed to be in and set up for capture. Though whether as hostages or something else, no one seems to know. The Sultan's spies got wind of it – or expected it – and sent to the ship inviting the Captain to send the Bullocks to fetch them home. He sent some of his own soldiers with them – but the word is that he used it as a diversion while he dealt with other matters within his own court. You may notice that the battery on Al Minari has been moved?"

  "I hadn't," Harry said. "But I am not surprised. I am willing to wager that it was the Sultan's uncle – who does not appear to be present – and his French friends who were behind that."

  Ferghal approached as they talked and Harry asked, "What passed in the Souq? Where were you when the Bullocks found you?"

  "I think they intended to take at least some of us as slaves, Master Harry," Ferghal replied. "One at least had his eye on me in the manner of the slavers we fought on the voyage from Gibraltar and I could near enough feel the slave irons on me. Mister Tanha tells the Fourth that we were next the Slave Market and the dungeons they holds them in for sale."

  "A good place then to hide those you have seized," said Kit. He spied Midshipman Barclay making his way toward them and said, "Batten down, Harry. Here comes our senior, spoiling for a fight if I read his expression right."

  Eamon Barclay was indeed spoiling for an argument. But Harry refused to give him that satisfaction and ignored his barbed comments and thinly veiled insults, steadfastly refusing to allow himself to be baited. It took all Harry's willpower not to punch his antagonist or to lose his temper. However, in the effort this cost him he did inadvertently crush a rather fine pewter tankard he had been holding.

  Seeing this and reading the murder lurking in Harry's eyes, Eamon sensibly, for once, left him to join his crony Midshipman Peterson further along the table.

  "Phew," breathed Kit rejoining Harry. "I thought I'd see you call him out or drive your dirk though him – well done on holding yourself in check. He's insufferable!"

  He would have said more, but at that moment the Sultan indicated his desire to depart and the officers and warrant Officers hurried to their posts to see due honours performed as their Royal guest departed.

  As the barge pulled away from the ship, Captain Blackwood turned to the Lieutenant's and said, "Thank you gentlemen. That visit has been a great success thanks to the efforts of everyone aboard. We shall have a stand easy tomorrow in the Afternoon Watch and, Mister Bell, you may 'Splice the Main Brace'."

  ***

  Two days later the Spartan set sail and worked her way out of the bay, the smoke from her gun salute drifting astern in the gentle breeze as she left the anchorage with the thunder of the reply from the battery on Al Minari sending the sea birds scattering.

  "A great success, Captain," Mister Stewart said as they went below. "A hugely important ally in these parts, the Sultan, and your ship and your men have left him with a good impression. Our French friends have been sent packing, their tails between their legs and their ally is banished from the court."

  "Ah, I had wondered what became of him." Captain Blackwood shed his heavy coat and eased into his chair at his desk. "His banishment did not happen to coincide with a certain entertainment aboard this ship?"

  "It did," Mister Stewart said. "The Sultan accepted the invitation because he did not wish to be available for an appeal." He smiled. "Their ways may not be ours, but they are effective. Mister Al Qatari will not, I think, be able to assist his French allies for some time."

  "And we have recovered the Lascari crew and the Master of the Mowghli. I trust that Mister Downing has suffered no ill effects either. It was generous of the Sultan to offer compensation for his injured prestige." Captain Blackwood allowed himself a smile. "Though I have no doubt the French will find themselves paying it."

  "Certainly conceivable," the Company man said. "Now that it is confirmed that we are once again at war we will have to set the Bombay Marine to regular patrols in this area – more expense since we will have to purchase in ships to increase their capability in that regard. At least the French will not have a friendly port under the Sultan's jurisdiction from which to strike. But Ile d' France is a thorn in our sides and will have to be dealt with sooner rather than later."

  -

  Chapter 31 — An excursion

  Bombay, now the monsoon was fully developed, was wet and steaming. From their anchorage just below the Fort on Cross Island they had a good view into the city and it's ever changing and colourfully dressed population. To seaward lay the Middle Ground battery, the first line of defence of the anchorage and the their east, the islands on the eastern side of the bay, the low lying Jawahar Dweep – to the English Butcher Island – and the larger and more hilly Elephant Island almost vanished into the background. Within days of their arrival despatches and orders had arrived for Spartan, the frigate Rajahstan and the sloop Swallow, both currently at sea to return to Portsmouth and now the opportunity was being taken, while they waited for their consorts, to complete the ship's repairs and stores for the long voyage home.

  "At least," said Third Lieutenant David Rogers to the Master, "The monsoon brings cooler temperatures to this place."

  "Aye, Mister Rogers, that it does," agreed Mister Wentworth. "Though it also prevents our sailing – we've another month at least before the wind changes direction and blows favourably for us."

  "Our Parson has requested the Captain's permission to lead an expedition of the midshipmen to some caves he has heard of to the north, Kanheri, he calls them." He paused to watch the stowing of the halliards for the main course, then continued. "Manmade I believe he said, and filled with idols and fabulous carvings."

  "I'd not object to seeing these myself, I have heard tell that they are a wonder indeed." The Master said, "Though I think I'll leave the journeying in this heat to younger heads."

  The Third laughed. "Do the attractions of this city not appeal then?"

  "Aye, they do, but only those closer to hand. I've a fancy to visit the cloth makers here, their wares are finer than our own and more to my pocket." He tapped the side of his nose and added, "And can bring a nice profit for a small investment on our return to England."

  ***

  This was something several of the officers and senior Warrant Officers were also thinking. The more astute members of the Gunroom, the Wardroom and the Warrant Officer's Messes were also looking for bargains they could purchase for resale at home at a good profit. Some had already managed to obtain small stocks of exotic carvings, cloth and pieces of ivory which were carefully stowed under the Purser's or the Boatswain's control against the day of their return. A number of the midshipmen, Harry included, wished, in addition, to find new uniforms and other items to replace garments many of them were growing out of or had simply worn to an end.

  "Ferghal's sail maker friends have done as much as they can with my waistcoats and my coat," Harry said, "I have shirts now that have been remade so many times they are more sailcloth than cotton shirt, even those I managed to obtain from the auction of our fallen friends dunnage."

  "I am in the same case," agreed Kit. "Mister Bell has found a local snyder and arranged with Peterson for us to share him. He is coming to the ship with his cloth and his tools and will make all we need for a much smaller fee than any English one, do you intend to use him too?"

  "When does he come?" Harry asked. "For tomorrow we must depart with Mister Bentley for these caves he is so interested in seeing."

  "He comes in the Dog Watches today, so he may measure us and have the items made for our return. How long will the expedition take, do you know?"

  "Four days, says Mister Bentley, a day to get there by elephant, two days to explore and a day to return. We stay in the residence of a Company Official while in the hills," replied Harry. "They say there are tigers there – I hope we see one at least."

  "Not unless it is from somewhere secure from its desire to consume us – or across the sights of a suitable gun," exclaimed Kit
.

  ***

  The tailor's visit was a busy one and he assured them of his speedy services by delivering the uniform coats ordered bare days earlier. Nor was the quality poor, far from it, in some respects it was superior to anything some of the officers had previously owned. Harry dared to stretch his slender purse and ordered two uniform coats, a set of new waistcoats several shirts, breeches, stockings and a new pair of shoes. He also ordered two shirts and a smart jacket especially for Ferghal as a small gift to his friend. This raised Kit's eyebrows, but he held his peace. However, the tailor, noting the unusual circumstance of a midshipman making such a purchase for a mere seaman made some subtle enquiries and adjusted the cost to Harry downwards without further comment, unusual in itself.

  Two years, near enough, at sea had seen all the younger midshipmen and many of the ship's boys, grow considerably and many now had few clothes not stained by constant wear, or so outgrown that they were no longer usable. The tailor's visit was therefore profitable in many ways.