'Ah,' interjected Adams, at last able to put a technical obstacle in front of Wrinch, 'but you cannot land at Bombay or on the Malabar coast during the south-west monsoon.'
Wrinch raised an eyebrow. 'Even a Frenchman may round Cape Comorin, Captain. They may still have friends in Pondicherry and it is not many miles from there to Mysore.'
Rainier had had enough. He rose. 'We sail in two days, gentlemen.'
'Am I to join you, sir?' asked Griffiths.
'No, Griffiths. Do you stay here and wait for Blankett. You are possessed of all the facts and can best acquaint the admiral of 'em. Your orders from Nelson were explicit. You have managed to convince me that perhaps I must look a little further into the matter, damn you.'
So Hellebore continued to wait. Having, as Appleby put it, sped with the wings of Hermes half way round the world, they had now to acquire the patience of Job. Griffiths spent less time ashore, apparently happier now that Rainier had gone north. But it was not only this that had relaxed the man. The true reason was revealed one night over a more frugal and less formal meal than that enjoyed aboard Centurion. In the cabin of Hellebore the brig's officers dined off mutton, of which there was a good supply in Mocha, and drank their madeira with dark coffee and sweet dates, listening to the reason for Griffiths's change.
'To be without pain, gentlemen, is like a rebirth. Mr Strangford Wrinch is a man of many parts. You have seen only one side of him; that of a gossiping coffee merchant who keeps a kind of court in Mocha. In fact he is much more than that. He has journeyed into the interior and tells of mysterious cities long deserted by their inhabitants. He is a hadji who has twice been where it is not permitted for an infidel to go. He has fought in three Arab wars, is an expert in mathematics, astronomy and Arab literature, writes verses in Arabic and keeps a flight of sakers worthy of a prince…' He paused and Drinkwater heard Rogers mutter a reference to boys. If Griffiths heard it he ignored it, fixing Appleby with a stare. 'And he has some medical knowledge.'
As if on cue Appleby snorted. 'You are going to tell me he knows a few nostrums, sir,' the surgeon said archly.
'Indeed not. I am going to tell you he knows a great deal. That he can cauterize a wound with hot oil, or sear the back with hot irons to cure rheumatism. Furthermore for open wounds an application of rancid butter or cow dung…'
'Cow dung?' Appleby's head shot up in disbelief, his chins quivering. Rogers was laughing silently as if this revelation proved his private theory that Griffiths was mad. Griffiths ignored him, obviously enjoying Appleby's scepticism.
'Just so, Mr Appleby. An application of cow dung, see, possesses certain properties which enable a wound to heal cleanly.'
Behind his hand Rogers muttered, 'No wonder there are so many flies… god-damned cow shit, for Christ's sake.' Mr Dalziell began to giggle and even the loyal Quilhampton found it impossible to resist. The sniggers spread to uncontrollable open laughter to which Appleby succumbed.
Drinkwater coughed loudly, mindful of a first lieutenant's duty. 'And this cure for your pain, sir, was that one of these, h'hm extreme and, er… h'hm unusual remedies?'
Griffiths turned towards Drinkwater, a mildly benevolent smile on his face. He shook his head, his eyes twinkling beneath their bushy eyebrows. 'For the gout, Mr Drinkwater, an affliction long considered by the best English brains as incurable, Mr Wrinch prescribed crocus bulbs and seeds…'
'Crocus bulbs…!' guffawed Rogers whose mirth was past rational control. The tears streamed down the faces of the midshipmen and even Appleby was too stunned to offer resistance to this challenge to English medicine.
'And you are quite without pain?' asked Drinkwater, controlling himself with difficulty.
'Quite, my dear Nathaniel. Fit enough to finish the task that brought us here.'
At the beginning of May Blankett arrived at Mocha having exchanged his flag into the Leopard, newly arrived from England. He had with him Daedalus and Fox. They had swept the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden without discovering Santhonax. Off Guardafui Blankett had transferred into Leopard and sent the fourth-rates home. He was disinclined to listen to the dire warnings of Griffiths, not admitting the argument that he had not only failed to find the French but had missed Rainier. Annoyed, Griffiths returned to Hellebore and fumed like Achilles in his tent. Then, a week later Rainier returned. He had penetrated as far as Suez and bombarded the place. Although the French army was there no ships were to be seen and it was said that Centurion was the first ship of force seen before the town.
'That,' said Appleby, 'is a piece of conceit I mislike. I dare say Egyptian ships of force were off Suez while Rainier's ancestors were farting in caves.'
'Ah, but not with eighteen-pounders in their batteries,' said Drinkwater laughing, 'cannon are a powerful argument to revise history.'
'Pah! A matter of mere comparisons.'
'Like the ingredients of medicines, eh?' grinned Drinkwater at the surgeon.
Convinced that the French threat was illusory Rainier departed for India, leaving Hellebore to the mercies of Blankett. After his exertions the rear-admiral was not inclined to cruise further. He took himself to Wrinch's house to keyf and dally with a seraglio of houris while his squadron settled down to wait. Though for what, no-one seemed quite certain.
'Boat approaching, sir. Looks like that fellow Sinbad.' Quilhampton interrupted the first lieutenant who had had the carpenter make a small portable desk for him on deck where, beneath the quarterdeck awning, the breeze ruffled his shirt and made the intolerable paperwork that was part of his duty a trifle more bearable.
'Sinbad?'
'That damned Arab Yusef ben Ibrahim, sir!' Drinkwater looked up. It was a great pity that idleness was affecting Mr Quilhampton. The contempt the meanest of Hellebore's people felt for the local population struck Drinkwater as quite incomprehensible. Perhaps it was a result of their being cooped up on board, but there was little contemptible about Yusef ben Ibrahim. A striking figure with the hawk-like good looks of his race who could handle his rakish sambuk with a skill that compelled admiration.
'Go and inform the captain, Mr Q.' Ben Ibrahim had assumed the duty of chief messenger between Wrinch and Griffiths now that Blankett's residence precluded Griffiths's presence. The Arab clambered over the rail. He salaamed at Drinkwater and handed over a sealed letter. Drinkwater bowed as he took it straightening up to see three men turning sheepishly back to their work while Mr Dalziell insolently essayed a bow himself.
'Bosun's mate,' Drinkwater called sharply, 'I desire you to keep those men at their duty or I will be obliged to teach 'em better manners. Mr Dalziell you will be mastheaded until sunset.' He turned away and went below. Griffiths read the letter then handed it back to Drinkwater. 'Read it,' he said transferring his attention to the chart before him.
My Dear Madoc, [Drinkwater read] I am writing to you as I doubt that blockhead Blankett will take alarm from what I have learned. It occurs to me that since you have no written instructions from the admiral you might still consider yourself under Nelson's orders. Although my official powers are limited, my influence is not. I can offer a considerable measure of protection in case of trouble with your superior.
I have received news from Upper Egypt that Desaix is everywhere and Murad's force is scattered. This is confusing. What is certain is that General Belliard has occupied Kosseir and. Murad's reinforcements from the Hejaz are choked. Also the bearer, Ben Ibrahim, has sighted French ships in the Gulf of Aqaba and at Kosseir. I am certain our quarry is accumulating dhows at Kosseir for Bonaparte or Desaix to proceed against India.