Birds of Prey - Smith Wilbur (полная версия книги .TXT) 📗
"Pretty jig-jig boys," the whore masters crooned in pidgin English.
"Sweet bums like ripe mangoes."
"Mister Tyler, have a boat lowered," Hal ordered. "I'm going ashore. I will take Althuda and Master Daniel with me and ten of your best men."
They rowed across to the stone landing steps below the fortress walls, and Big Daniel went ashore first to plough open a passage through the throng of merchants, who swarmed down to the water's edge to offer their wares. On their last visit he had escorted Sir Francis ashore so he led the way. His seamen formed in a phalanx around Hal and they marched through the narrow streets.
They passed through bazaars and crowded souks where the merchants displayed their stocks. Traders and seamen from the other vessels in the harbour picked over the piles of elephant tusks, and cakes of fragrant golden gum arabic, bunches of ostrich feathers and rhinoceros horns. They haggled over the price of the carpets from Muscat and the stoppered porcupine quills filled with grains of alluvial gold from Sofala and the rivers of the African interior. The slavemasters paraded files of human beings for potential buyers to examine their teeth, and palpate the muscles of the males or lift the aprons of the young females to consider their sweets.
From this area of commerce, Big Daniel led them into a sector of the town where the buildings on each side of the lanes almost touched each other overhead and blocked out the light of day, The stench of human faeces from the open sewers, which ran down to the harbour, almost suffocated them.
Big Daniel stopped abruptly in front of an arched mahogany door, carved with intricate Islamic motifs and studded with iron spikes, and heaved on the dangling bell rope Within minutes they heard the bolts on the far side being pulled back and the huge door creaked open. Half a dozen small brown faces peered out at them, boys and girls of mixed blood and of all ages between five and ten years.
"Welcome! Welcome!" they chirruped in quaintly accented English.
"The blessing of Allah the All Merciful be upon you, English milord. May all your days be golden and scented with wild jasmine."
A little girl seized Hal by the hand and led him through into the interior courtyard. A fountain tinkled in the centre and the air was filled with the scent of frangipani and yellow tamarind flowers. A tall figure, clad in flowing white robes and gold-corded Arabian head-dress, rose from the pile of silk carpets where he had been reclining.
"Indeed, I add a thousand welcomes to those of my children, my good Captain, and may Allah shower you with riches and blessing," he said, in a familiar and comforting Yorkshire accent. "I watched your fine ship anchor in the bay, and I knew you would soon call upon me." He clapped his hands, and from the back of the house emerged a line of slaves each bearing trays that contained coloured glasses of sherbet and coconut milk and little bowls of sweetmeats and roasted nuts.
The consul sent Big Daniel and his seamen through to the servants" quarters at the rear of the house. "They will be given refreshment," he said.
Hal cast Big Daniel a significant look, which the boatswain interpreted accurately. There would be no liquor in this Islamic household, but there would be women and the seamen had to be protected from themselves. Hal kept Althuda beside him. There might be call for him to draw up documents or to take down notes.
The consul led them to a secluded corner of the courtyard. "Now, let me introduce myself, I am William Grey, His Majesty's consul to the Sultanate of Zanzibar."
"Henry Courtney, at your service, sir."
"I knew a Sir Francis Courtney. Are you by chance related?"
"My father, sir."
"Ah! An honourable man. Please give him my respects when next you meet."
"Tragically he was killed in the Dutch war."
"My condolences, Sir Henry. Please be seated." A pile of beautifully patterned silk carpets had been set close at hand for Hal. The consul sat opposite him. Once he was comfortable, a slave brought Grey a water-pipe. "A pipeful of Mang is a sovereign remedy for distempers of the liver and for the malaria which is a plague in these climes. Will you join me, sir?" Hal refused this offer, for he knew of the tricks the Indian hemp flowers played upon the mind, and the dreams and trances with which it could ensnare the smoker.
While he puffed at his pipe, Grey questioned him cunningly as to his recent movements and his future plans, and Hal was polite but evasive. Like a pair of duel lists they sparred and waited for an opening. As the water bubbled in the tall glass bowl of the pipe and the fragrant smoke drifted across the courtyard Grey became more affable and expansive.
"You live in the style of a great sheikh." Hal tried a little flattery and Grey responded with gratification.
"Would you find it difficult to believe that fifteen years ago I was merely a lowly clerk in the employment of the English East India Company? When my ship was wrecked on the corals of Sofala, I came ashore here as a castaway." He shrugged and made a gesture that was more Oriental than English. "As you say, Allah has smiled on me."
"You have embraced Islam?" Hal did not allow his expression to show the repugnance he felt for the apostate. "I am a true believer in the one God, and in Muhammad his Prophet." Grey nodded. Hal wondered how much his decision to convert had rested on political and practical considerations. Grey, the Christian, would not have prospered in Zanzibar as Grey, the Mussulman, so obviously had.
"Most Englishmen who call at Zanzibar have one thing in mind," Grey went on. "They have come here for trade, and usually to acquire a cargo of slaves. I regret that this is not the best season for slaving. The trade winds have brought in the dhows from Further India and beyond. They have already carried away the best specimens, and what is now left in the market is the dregs. However, in my own barracoon I have two hundred prime creatures, the best you will find in a thousand miles of sailing."
