Touch and Go (18 page)

Delancey now kept closer to the African coast, not wanting to share Cochrane's fate. Next day he was off Mellila with an easterly wind and every hope of reaching Tetuan by daybreak on the following day. He sent for Isaac Sulman, who had been sick for most of the voyage, and told him that he was nearly home.

“Tell me about the watering place.”

“Yes, captain. You should anchor off the river Boosega or St Martin and fire three guns as a signal to the British Vice-Consul, a relative of mine. You will then be eighteen miles from Tetuan and six miles from the custom house and fort. While you are watering, it would be wise to call on the officer who commands at the fort. The Vice-Consul, a very good man, will be there to meet you. If the Governor is in residence the Vice-Consul will arrange for you to visit him. The captain at the fort will expect, as a present, a cartridge of powder.”

“How long will it take to water the ship?”

“Two days or a little longer. You will perhaps allow me, meanwhile, to show you round the city? It is a good place for silverwork, leather and saddlery.” Delancey accepted the invitation with pleasure, he and Dr Rathbone questioning Sulman about the sights and looking forward to going ashore.

Early next morning, the
Merlin
was nearing the coast with a stiff breeze and Delancey surveyed the wild landscape with interest. There were high mountains inland, formed of barren rock but clothed with undergrowth on the lower slopes. In the foreground the foothills were green and dotted with occasional buildings, all white or nearly so. Delancey thought that he would some day like to paint the scene, which had a dreamlike beauty in the early light.

Sulman came on deck to act as pilot, pointing out the river mouth and indicating the usual anchorage. The sails were furled smartly, the anchor dropped, and three guns were fired which echoed back from the hills. Delancey turned to Sulman with a word of thanks as he watched the
Venturer
and
Santa Catarina
drop anchor in turn. He made a mental note that Langford and Northmore had both done extremely well.

“Well, here we are, Mr Sulman,” said Delancey “You have had your setbacks, but you are safely home at last.”

“Home?” repeated Isaac Sulman sadly, “I and my people have no home.”

D
ELANCEY'S journey to Tetuan began from the custom house, where he met with Mr Levi Manasseh, Vice-Consul to Mr Matra, Consul at Tangier. Landing with Delancey were Dr Rathbone, Mr Sulman, Mr Midshipman Topley as A.D.C., Luke Tanner and John Teesdale. Delancey would have liked to take a lieutenant with him but Mather was needed to command the ship in her captain's absence and Stirling was needed with the watering party, now ashore under canvas. After a meal at the custom house of roasted fowls and fried sardines, they were mounted on horses and their luggage strapped on mules. Each horse had an enormous high-peaked saddle and bucket-shaped stirrups. Delancey's horse was a grey and distinguished by a scarlet saddle cloth.

Returning with them to Tetuan, Mr Manasseh rode an easy-paced mule and was attended by a servant, similarly mounted. The road was abominable but the country was very attractive, with pastures along the winding river backed by plantations of olives, as also (rather surprisingly) by vineyards. Above all were the sunlit mountains, across which cloud shadows chased each other. Ahead lay the walled city, looking like an illustration to the
Arabian Nights.
There were eighty thousand inhabitants, the Vice-Consul explained, and a fourth part of them were Jews, who were made to live in their own quarter. The Governor, under Muley Solyman, Emperor of Morocco, was Sidi-Ash-Ash, whose authority extended to Tangier. He was not at the moment in residence.

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Delancey. “I have brought a present for him: four barrels of gunpowder.”

“It will not be needed,” said Mr Manasseh. “It will, however, have a ready sale.”

“It is sold already,” said Mr Sulman. “I will pay whatever price the Vice-Consul considers fair.” Some discussion followed and the price was agreed at what seemed to Delancey an unusually high figure. The powder had come from one of the prizes left at Cherchell and its value could be added to the amount of prize-money which would come from selling the
Santa Catarina
when she was condemned at Gibraltar.

Delancey had been told that the city was wealthy but he could at first see no sign of it. The streets were narrow and filthy, the houses were so many blank walls, almost joining overhead, and the only buildings of note seemed to be the mosques and a castle or citadel sited on high ground and commanding the city centre. No particular notice was taken of the Europeans and Delancey presumed that they were often seen there while purchasing supplies for Gibraltar, but one or two pebbles were thrown at Sulman by jeering urchins. He took no notice and presently led them to the Jewish quarter, entered by another gateway which was shut, he explained, each night.

His own home looked like all the rest but his wife, who greeted her guests at the entrance, was able to show them a luxurious interior. Sulman answered Delancey's compliments by saying, “Ah, we were rich, some of us, before Muley Yazid plundered us ten years ago.” His wife was a beautiful woman and some of the other womenfolk had fine features and clear complexions. Among those who greeted Sulman, congratulating him on his safe return, was an Arab called Ali ben Ismail who seemed to be his partner.

Delancey had been invited, with his party, to dine at the Vice-Consul's but it was now agreed that he should first visit the markets and shops. Setting out again, this time on foot, and guided by Sulman, Delancey was taken to the central bazaar, thronged with people and offering, among other things, silks and carpets. Distinct from this was a produce market with meat, poultry and vegetables for sale and distinct again was the Socco, used for sales by auction.

Delancey passed through these colourful scenes with an appreciative eye but aware of possible theft. He was carrying an unusually large sum of money, received from Sulman and decided to entrust this to Luke Tanner as a precaution against pickpockets. After admiring cattle, sheep, horses and mules, the party was brought to a momentary halt by Sulman.

“I hope you will forgive me, captain, if I take you a little out of the main street. There is a mosque just ahead of us. As a Jew I am compelled to pass it barefoot. So I usually follow this lane to the left, rejoining the shopping streets a little further down. Would you mind . . . ?”

Delancey had no objection and they passed through an almost deserted alley, which echoed to their footsteps. They turned right, then left and right again and presently came into a square, through which they had to pass to regain the high street. People were collecting there on the shady side, as if to watch a performance staged under the hot sun. Sulman made a gesture of annoyance.

“I did not know that there was to be an auction here today. It is not a place for visitors. How stupid of me!”

“Why don't you bring visitors here?” asked Delancey with amusement.

“Well, captain, this is the Basistan or slave market. Visitors must be shocked at something so uncivilised. It won't be too difficult, however, to push our way through, especially if I make Ali ben Ismail go first.”

“What slaves are sold here?” asked Dr Rathbone.

“Poor creatures from other parts of Africa—a few Berbers and a few black men brought across the desert.”

As if to prove the truth of this, the auctioneer's men led in the first slaves for sale, arranging them on a paved area higher than the pathway and forming a kind of permanent stage. The luckless slaves were made to walk up and down, to show their paces. Others were half starved or ill and squatted listlessly where they were put. Dealers and possible buyers came to the front and the auction began.

“What a terrible sight!” exclaimed Dr Rathbone.

“Heathen goings-on!” growled Luke Tanner.

“Poor creatures!” muttered coxswain Teesdale.

Disapproval was unanimous among the Europeans but nobody made a move, all being fascinated. Rather reluctantly Sulman began to explain how the auction was planned.

“The cheapest are sold first. Then come the stronger slaves, thought to be good workers, the more valuable household slaves, and last of all, the women who might do for the harem. Slaves of the better sort are usually bought by dealers known as
tego-rarini,
who fatten them up for sale to particular clients.”

“Are there Christians among them?” asked Dr Rathbone.

“Sometimes,” Sulman admitted. “After prizes have been captured. I doubt if there will be any today.”

“You say that dealers sell to particular clients,” asked Delancey. “In what way are they particular?”

“Well,” began Sulman hesitantly, “there are people who are known to have certain tastes. They like young girls with no experience or else they are cruel, or perhaps they prefer boys.”

“Monsters!” groaned Dr Rathbone, but he too was rooted to the spot.

As the auction proceeded, Delancey identified the dealers who chatted to each other, finding little of interest even among the household slaves. Their attention was caught, however, by the appearance of a strikingly beautiful woman with a fair skin, clad like the others in a rough piece of sacking.

“Is she Christian?” asked Delancey sharply.

“Oh, no,” Sulman replied. “With that colour and those eyes she surely comes from Mequinas. Women from Fas are fairer still but less lively. I don't know how she comes to be a slave but she will bring a high price.”

Bidding was brisk and the girl was knocked down to a dealer, who instantly paid in cash. Doing mental arithmetic, Delancey thought she had fetched the equivalent to five and a half barrels of gunpowder. To judge from her bright eyes, he guessed that she might be about as explosive.

Mr Midshipman Topley moaned a regret that he had insufficient funds for such an investment. There was a pause in the proceedings and several dealers, including the successful bidder, left without showing any further interest. Delancey was about to do the same when a final lot was announced. She was a girl aged about twelve, a mere child, miserably thin and downcast. She was not exactly pretty but her skin appeared to be fair under the dirt and her hair was possibly more brown than black.

“Italian, surely?” asked Delancey.

“I think—perhaps,” replied Sulman, “or mixed a little, Italian and Arab.” Delancey was thinking about what Sulman had said about clients with known and peculiar tastes. Without making a conscious decision about it he found himself saying “Buy her for me.”

“Buy her?” asked Sulman, astonished. “I couldn't, being a Jew.”

“Ali ben Ismail can bid for me.”

There followed a whispered conversation between the two partners.

“Ali thinks that the girl will go to Abdul Hassan, acting for Ibrahim Mansour.”

“Can't I outbid him? You know, Mr Sulman, how much money I had from you.” There was a further discussion and Ali finally nodded.

“Ali thinks ‘perhaps' but he will want a commission.”

“He can have it within the limits of what I have.”

Delancey had a dreadful feeling that his behaviour was idiotic. Who was he, a poor man, to indulge in such a mad scheme as this? He was spending what little he had—and maybe more he would have to borrow—on trying to save this unknown child from an unknown fate. He could sense Dr Rathbone's disapproval. He could feel Topley's surprise. Why in heaven's name had he done anything so foolish? Whatever his second thoughts—and his heart was beating unusually—it was now too late; his decision had been taken.

Sulman explained the situation to Ali ben Ismail and they apparently reached agreement, for Ali walked deliberately away from Sulman and Delancey, taking up a position further forward and to the left. The auctioneer was making the girl walk up and down, emphasising her good points, no doubt, and explaining that she would be a good investment. He did his best but was aware that several of the dealers had gone.

Delancey hoped that Abdul Hassan was among them. Then the description ended and the bidding began.

Ali ben Ismail may have been no more than Sulman's junior partner, a Muslim to put forward when a Muslim was needed, but he certainly knew how to bid at an auction. His intervention came late and his manner was deliberately casual. Abdul Hassan was present, as soon became obvious, but Ali never glanced in his direction. He was bidding on impulse, and was backed, it was obvious, by unlimited funds. Chatting with an Arab acquaintance, he almost forgot to bid at one point and then raised his opponent (for he had only the one) by the value of a single small coin. People laughed and the auctioneer looked rather hurt.

His next bid marked a substantial rise. Abdul hesitated for a minute and finally shook his head. The auctioneer shouted, the deal was made, the auction ended and the girl was Delancey's property. Luke Tanner went over to Ah ben Ismail who made payment on the spot and retained his own commission. Sulman looked anxious. “It would never do,” he explained, “if I were thought to have outbid an agent acting for Ibrahim Mansour, who is a powerful man in this city. If you are known to have bought a slave, that is another matter. The law is doubtful—I don't know for certain what the position is.”

After a short discussion it was agreed that Delancey should go with his party to the Vice-Consul's house for dinner but that Ali ben Ismail should take the slave girl (named Souraya, it seemed) back to his own room where he lived with his wife Aisha and servant Mustapha in a corner of what had been a large mansion. Aisha would bathe the girl and tell her that she was free. It would then lie with Delancey to decide what he was going to do with her.

In the meanwhile he faced the unspoken disapproval of Dr Rathbone and the shocked silence of the others. Was he, they were wondering, the man of iron they had thought him to be? Had he given way to sentimentality—or to some even more deplorable emotion?