Foreign Mud

by Andrew Wareham

  “Vital to us! When we have a fleet in being in the Med, then it will require meat, preferably on the hoof; onions; barley or wheat flour; olive oil; lemons. All of those essential to us. Any more that they can provide by way of beans or such will be accepted. There could easily be ten thousand men to be fed. If they send an excess, it will be stored or somehow used up – it will never be refused. The meat to be beef rather than mutton or goat, if possible. We to supply shipping in convoys with naval escort.”

  That seemed straightforward.

  “Finally, sir, what of slaves?”

  “You would be out of character if you made no representations about seamen taken for ransom or simply enslaved. Beg for them to be released to you. Do not demand. Offer to pay, of course. It will not always be possible and when they do release their captives, they will mostly be the elderly or frail. Show deeply concerned about the slaves. Do not make them a sticking point.”

  It seemed a little cynical; I had to accept that England was the weaker power in the Mediterranean, for the while, and act accordingly. It seemed obvious that in time we must overcome that weakness, and then kick the Emperor of Morocco where it hurt. For the nonce, I must crawl.

  We ate and slept and boarded a small Navy victualler after full dark. It was not my first voyage with the Navy, and I still did not like it – too many loud orders, too much threat and all accompanied by a flicking rope’s end across men’s shoulders and backs. Was I ever to be taken by a press gang then I knew I would be using a knife in the dark of the night to deal with some of these bully-boys!

  I imagine the Navy relies on the lash to terrify its men - and depends on informers in the crew to keep the mutineers in check. Not the life for me. It was noticeable that they gave out massive dollops of rum to keep the men part-drunk and docile. A strange way of existence.

  We entered the inner, shallow harbour of Tetuan soon after dawn and bellied up to a wharf. I was set ashore and placed in the care of a harbourmaster, or some such, and led to an office where our names were recorded and we were set free of the town. I stood looking about me for an inn and a boy of no more than ten years came up to me.

  “Jackson? Come.”

  That I believe was the totality of his English. He said nothing else and led me into the town a short distance and pointed me to a particular door in the narrow alleys and then ran. I knocked on the door and was beckoned inside, into a courtyard some thirty feet across and surrounded by high, whitewashed stone walls. My three men followed and the door was shut by a large black man who pointed me through an archway.

  “Mr Giles Jackson?”

  There was a figure sat back in the shadows of a sort of balcony. He rose.

  “Do take a seat, my dear chap! A glass of something cool, perhaps? My butler will see to your three fellows.”

  My eyes grew accustomed to the gloom and I saw a small gentleman dressed in Arab robes and with some sort of wound cloth headgear. He possessed the most delicate of Mayfair drawls.

  “Heathcote-Parker, dear boy! Captain, Foot Guards but otherwise engaged for the while. Do settle yourself and we shall discuss what you are to do whilst here. As I am sure you are aware, your main purpose is to be a face while I go about this and that for a week or two. I cannot be a merchant in my ways so you will haggle and dicker and indulge in just whatever it is traders do, you know. Tell me, what do you really wish to purchase while you are here? I am sure I can point you in the right direction. I shall also, of course, make an introduction or two.”

  He blinked when I explained that I wished to purchase hemp by the ton and opium in such amounts as might be available. He recovered quickly and was sure that he could meet my needs.

  “Not today, however. How do you stand on the matter of slavery, Mr Jackson?”

  “I am to redeem any I can, sir, without making myself in any way obtrusive. It is vital that victuals for the Mediterranean Fleet be secured. All else must be secondary to that.”

  “Excellent! Your predecessor was obsessive upon the matter. He did not survive, I am afraid.”

  I had not known there had been a predecessor and was slightly upset to discover his existence, and current non-existence. It seemed likely, probable indeed, that Heathcote-Parker had been responsible for his demise. I emphasised again that I would not be making any great fuss about the unfortunates who had fallen into captivity in Moorish hands.

  My host seemed to shed his fashionable lethargy on receiving that avowal.

  “I shall make your first introductions in the morning, Mr Jackson. You will wish to discuss the importation of great guns, I am told. I know nothing of that – I believe it is being dealt with by a different department. I will be able to bring you to the attention of a particular functionary interested in such matters. He is currently discussing the question with certain French delegates. They have offered him twelve of their thirty-six pounders against a commitment to send a force of galleys against the next East India convoy. You will be able to mention that there will be an escort of frigates and two-deckers sailing as far as Madeira and picking up London bound ships there.”

  Even two frigates would make an attack hazardous. Add to that a pair or more of small two-deckers, often quite fast ships, and no galley would come home again.

  I nodded. There was no need to say more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mr Heathcote-Parker was a strange little fellow. A few years older than me, he apparently had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the North African coast and its peoples and seemed more than content to dwell among them. He did not allow me access to the bulk of his house but Fred swore that it contained a harem – he heard much giggling from the kitchens, it seemed.

  I spent the first evening in the company of my host, receiving a detailed explanation of who was who in Tetuan and just what I should expect to happen over the next week or two. It seemed that the French would soon come to hear of my presence and could be expected to take action against me; assuming them to be unsuccessful, the Russians or the Spanish might well pay local men to remove me.

  “The French will do the job themselves, you imply, sir?”

  “I do, Mr Jackson. They are on a very tight budget and must do their own dirty work. The Spanish have more money and the Russians are rolling in it! Why the Russians should be so well-off, I do not know, though I suspect they have been equipped to offer massive bribes to local emirs and such. There is always the fear that the Russians seek to purchase access to a harbour on this coast. They try to maintain a small fleet in the Mediterranean and have no access through the Straits to the Black Sea. A port in North Africa would be of the greatest value to them and they must be prevented from attaining one. That, of course, is a major reason for you being here.”

  That seemed clear to me, and not identical to the instructions I had been given in England, which differed again from those offered in Gibraltar. It seemed not impossible that different organisations, and even distinct offices within the same, supposedly, set of agents had their own policy aims. I had gained the impression that all were appointed by and responsible to Dundas and thus to Billy Pitt. It seemed probable that the reality was less simple.

  “So, sir, I must venture out into the streets with the expectation of a French bullet between my shoulder blades. Avoiding that, I must beware of Spanish or Russian paid assassins.”

  “Basically, yes, Mr Jackson. The French have only three active men here in Tetuan, so little to fear from them, provided you are alert. Spanish and Russians, however, could afford to hire a score of local banditti – of whom there are thousands available.”

  I was not enthralled.

  “Why have they not killed you, sir?”

  “We have an unspoken agreement that only new men in are at risk. As it stands we know who our enemies are; kill them and we will have to watch for absolute unknowns. Better to leave each other alone and preserve the status quo, as it were, until the time comes that we choose not to – which adds a little spice to our daily lives, as you
can imagine, Mr Jackson.”

  I felt I could do without that particular sort of spice. I decided that the status quo had had its day in Tetuan.

  “Do you know where I could find them? The Russian and Spanish paymasters, not the banditti.”

  “That might be unwise, Mr Jackson. Killing off the opposition is frowned upon in the trade, you know. It sets so undesirable a precedent. I know where they are, but they know where to find me. If the French decided I have killed off the other sets, then they will come after me before I extend my activities to them.”

  I shrugged. Add the French.

  “Will they have informed Paris and Madrid and St Petersburg of my presence?”

  “Probably not yet. We could remove them before they do so, but that demands a full sweep. Three or four Russians and as many as six Spaniards.”

  “And three French first, sir. The four of us can deal with so few in the space of a busy night. Where are they to be found?”

  Heathcote-Parker submitted to my will, so he said. I wondered then and am certain now that he had manoeuvred me into the aggressive position. It was still the logical answer.

  It took him a suspiciously short time to make arrangements.

  An hour and the four of us were enveloped in cloaks – the burnous, I believe – and were padding through the streets following one of the ubiquitous small boys. Less than a quarter of a mile brought us to a small house around a courtyard, white walls tall and blank apart from a single door. Heathcote-Parker had assured me that the inside was almost the same as his property – an open veranda around the courtyard with airy rooms off on three sides, kitchens and staff quarters on the fourth. Two of the living parts would be curtained or trellised off, women’s quarters, invisible to visitors. The third was the communal area, containing offices and sitting room; the French could be expected to be there till late, being busy collecting information on me, or, more strictly, waiting for such information to arrive as I had yet to show myself on the streets.

  “The women’s quarters will be empty, Mr Jackson. Two cannot afford to purchase female company and the third has no desire to do so, I am told. There will be servants. They are ill-paid. A small amount of gold will turn them blind and deaf.”

  Valet and Barber took the lead and climbed the twelve foot wall in seconds, one on the shoulders of the other. A minute to be sure they were unseen and they dropped a rope for myself and Fred, somewhat more burdened than them by the new pistols and Fred’s old favourites which he still carried about with him.

  The advantage of the hot climate was thick walls, clay bricks keeping the interiors cooler and also letting little sound inside. We scurried across the roof and peered over the little internal parapet, located the servants’ part and the side that had lights and presumably Frenchmen inside. Barber remained on top, holding the rope while the three of us dropped into the courtyard, all in silence.

  “Servants, Fred.”

  He took out the twenty gold coins Heathcote-Parker had provided and nipped inside where he showed the five men and boys there a knife and the coins which he placed on a worktable just inside the door. There was no sound as he came away.

  We crossed the courtyard, keeping to the shadows, thankful for a new moon that gave almost no light. Men looking out from a lamplit room would see nothing.

  Valet stepped in front of me and looked in the window, raised three fingers then drew a pistol.

  I pulled the duck’s foot from under my burnous. The French had arms to hand, otherwise valet would have pulled a silent knife.

  “Go!”

  Valet shot through the window as I jumped to the door and pointed the heavy pistol at the pair standing from a desk and grabbing for a pair of cut down fowling pieces. The duck’s foot kicked hard and the four rounds cut the pair down and ricocheted off the walls, one ball whistling uncomfortably close to my ears. Fred ran in and whipped his knife across the throat of one who was still moving.

  Heathcote-Porter had instructed me not to pick up papers from the office – they would have little of interest, he knew who they were talking to. Leaving their files untouched might confuse any investigator, particularly as we were to strip the bodies of valuables and open their strongbox to make it seem no more than a simple theft.

  Five minutes and we were in the street again and hiding in a dark corner in sight of the building. We watched as the main doors opened and the servants ran out, looked around and then dived inside again, reappearing over the next few minutes carrying bags and burdens. Everything we had left behind was going with them, it seemed.

  We wandered casually back to our house and informed Heathcote-Porter of our success and delivered our spoils to him.

  “Two watches; a tie pin and a gold chain; three pocket pistols and two fowling pieces, short barrelled; eighty gold guineas, English currency being trusted hereabouts; two hundred of silver American dollars. Very poor!”

  We agreed – a low class operation, we feared.

  “You cannot treat the Spanish and Russians the same, gentlemen. They have more money and hire night watchmen, well armed and loyal for receiving good pay. Foolishly, they do not keep extra guards in the daylight hours, presumably expecting no onslaught then. On Friday morning, when the local population is busy at prayer and the streets are empty, we should pay the Spanish a call first and then straight on to the Russians. We shall drop a Spanish body in the Russian house, which should confuse the issue in a satisfactory fashion.”

  The Spanish were located half a mile away and we entered their gates as the muezzins wailed loud from the minarets, five of us at a run, Heathcote-Porter with a club battering the gate guard and the four of us into the offices, finding the Spanish as predicted sat around a coffee pot, nothing happening during the half-hour of prayers. I did not much like killing them out of hand, told myself as I shot that it was time of war and they were military men of a sort. Heathcote-Porter entered an inside room, came out laden down with a good fifty pounds weight of gold in the ingot.

  “Bought a plan of this house last year, gentlemen. Forethought can pay dividends!”

  We wrapped the smallest Spaniard in a cloak we had brought with us and carried him the ten minutes along the streets to the Russians.

  Inside, Heathcote-Porter knifing the gate guard, who was himself a Russian peasant, more than half asleep for nothing ever happening, and then picking up a heavy stone and hurling it through the wooden slats shading a window.

  There was a satisfactory bang and rattle and roars of outrage. Five Russians came out at the run, waving swords and canes variously and congregating on the three steps down to the courtyard. Fred fired one dragon and then the second, the old heavy pistols loaded with buckshot and efficient as ever. Valet and Barber ran forward and finished the job.

  We dropped the Spanish body into blood which was running down from the Russians and which could seem to be in part his. He would appear to have been killed on the spot, making the attack, we hoped.

  A stretched run and we looted the offices and made our heavy way out and into the back alley and round to Heathcote-Porter’s house. We had taken the Russians second for them being closer.

  “Thirty minutes well-spent, gentlemen! Coffee?”

  We accepted the refreshment and emptied our spoils out onto the floor.

  “Five ways, gentlemen?”

  That seemed reasonable and we shared out on the spot. Barber and Valet were particularly in favour, having expected nothing other than their ordinary wages and suddenly becoming well inlaid.

  There was nothing said, no public fuss on the Saturday. I wondered why.

  “A squabble among the kafirs, Mr Jackson. Why should good people concern themselves with the wickedness of foreigners who should not have been present at all? Obviously, the Spaniards, who have long been hated, killed the Russians, and probably the French, and were destroyed in their turn. Who killed the Spanish? Who cares? We were not involved.”

  We waited till Sunday when our host led Fred and my
self to visit a merchant who was his regular contact in Tetuan.

  I had spent the days in between in deep consideration of the events of Friday. I could not decide whether it was a simple case of armed robbery or high political policy; I still don’t know. I have kept one of the gold roubles as a souvenir and as a reminder that the world of government is a dirty one. I much suspect I was used by Heathcote-Parker for his own private purposes. It matters little – I have never come across him since so he has not returned to England, in all probability.

  The merchant gave a long name, which I have forgotten, and assured me, in passable English, that any cottons I supplied he could sell. There was a shortage of cheap but sturdy garments and he would be happy to do his bit to supply his people with their needs. Not subtle. We came to an agreement within an hour, mainly because I was happy to take a low profit on the deal, primarily because it involved me in no outlay of time or money. All I had to do was put the merchant in contact with the producer in Lancashire, which required no more than a few letters. Still makes me a few hundred a year, that deal, all for nothing, just a commission on the profits, the trade still working after more than forty years and the fortunate people of Morocco far better clothed.

  The question of rations for a fleet took far longer and had to be discussed at a higher level, as we had hoped. Three days passed before we were invited to pay a call on a functionary of the Emperor’s administration, or so I presumed him to be.

  A tall gentleman, beautifully dressed in a white robe, outwardly the same as all of the local people. Up close, one could see it was a light silk, comfortable in the heat and stitched by a master of the trade. From Persia, I presumed. All the best came from that land. Heathcote-Porter told me that silks were forbidden to men of his religion; I was not surprised the law was ignored – religion is for the poor, not the rich and powerful.

  The merchant interpreted and we discussed the possibilities of making purchases from Morocco for the Royal Navy. It became clear that the foodstuffs were available, at a price, but that something more was required. Transport seemed to be a problem. The Empire could not guarantee to have ships always to hand…