Bonaparte’s victory had affected Zadig in many ways, large and smalclass="underline" he had started taking French lessons, for instance, and he and his cousins had begun to ride horses, which was something that they, as Christians, could not have done before: he was never to forget his first trot around Cairo’s Ezbekiya Gardens. It was then also that he acquired the skills that would launch him in his trade, being taken on as an apprentice by a French watchmaker.
Among Zadig’s relatives there were many others whose lives were altered by the invasion: a couple of his cousins happened to have a smattering of French and they became interpreters for the invading army; others had found jobs in the newly established printing press. One perennially impoverished uncle, Orhan Karabedian, an artist, experienced a particularly dramatic change of fortune. As a painter of icons he had always found it hard to make ends meet, subsisting mainly on church commissions; now he was besieged by French officers who wanted souvenirs of Coptic Egypt – it made no difference to anyone that he was an Armenian and not a Copt.
The French invasion also led, indirectly, to Zadig’s marriage: one branch of his mother’s family became particularly prosperous by securing an enormously lucrative contract for the supply of wine and pork products to the French army. When Napoleon decided to march northwards, into Palestine and Syria, they deputed their youngest son-in-law, who had only recently joined their business, to accompany the invading army’s baggage train. The young man was to die at Jaffa, a year later, of the plague. After the period of mourning was over, the family decided that their young daughter could not spend the rest of her life as a widow – and it was thus that Zadig’s marriage came about.
While Napoleon was in Egypt, Zadig saw him only once, but at quite close quarters. It was when the Consul was on his way to visit the Nilometer, to preside over the ceremony that marked the start of the annual floods. Joining the crowd of spectators, Zadig had been astonished to discover that Napoleon was a full head shorter than himself.
Now, as the Cuffnells approached the venue of the former Emperor’s exile, many long-forgotten memories stirred in Zadig’s head. His feelings might have been even stronger if he had believed that he might actually meet the man in the flesh – but this he dismissed as an impossibility. Bonaparte was sure to be the most closely guarded prisoner in the world, he told Bahram; to think of seeing or meeting him was mere foolishness – yet, it was not long before they discovered that some of their fellow passengers harboured that very hope.
The Cuffnells was mainly a cargo ship and the only other passengers on board were four English couples. The geography of the ship, as much as anything else, ensured that Zadig and Bahram had little to do with the British passengers: their cabin was deep in the vessel’s belly, close to the bilges; they ate their meals with the serangs, tindals, silmagoors and other petty officers, and when they needed to stretch their legs they did so within the confines of the main deck. The English couples, on the other hand, were travelling in the poop-deck and roundhouse, where the ship’s officers also had their quarters. They dined at the captain’s table and spent their leisure hours on the quarter-deck, which could only be stepped upon by order or invitation.
Despite these barriers, the passengers were not unacquainted with each other for the main deck was the crossroads of the ship and it sometimes happened that they would find themselves face to face there. Then they would exchange bows and curtseys, salaams and greetings – although perfectly cordial, these ceremonies were a little stiff, the awkwardness of the respective parties being emphasized by the contrast in their costumes, the one being dressed in trousers, pelisses and surtouts, and the other in robes and ample headgear.
Although their interactions were few, Bahram and Zadig were not wholly unaware of the doings of their fellow passengers: often, while passing below the quarter-deck, they would hear snatches of the conversations that were being conducted over their heads. Beneath the companion-ladder there was a small alcove, under a ventilator: when the discussions above concerned some matter of unusual interest, this was a convenient place from which to listen.
After the Cuffnells’ departure from Cape Town they overheard many conversations about the former dictator.
‘Never could I have imagined that I would so desire to gaze upon this man, this creature, who was once a veritable bugbear…’
‘Indeed it is astonishing that one should wish to look upon such a fiend – but I confess that I too am sorely tempted.’
‘And how could you not be, my dear? To observe a monster in his lair is not an opportunity afforded to many.’
After a week or so at sea, the conversations on the quarter-deck took a new turn: instead of merely speculating about the possibility of catching an accidental glimpse of Napoleon, the English passengers began to discuss the various expedients by which a visit to his house might be arranged.
All foolishness, said Zadig dismissively. Unless they grow wings and fly like birds, they will see nothing of Napoleon.
Some three weeks after the Cuffnells’ departure from Cape Town, a mountainous eyrie of an island appeared on the horizon: this was St Helena. Even from a distance it was clear that the British navy had mounted extraordinary precautions: there were so many vessels patrolling the island that it looked as if some great naval battle were shortly to be fought off its shores.
The sight of the island, and the warships around it, provoked a fresh outburst of excitement on the quarter-deck: ‘To think that there lurks the Creature who agitated the world…’
‘… grasped the sceptres of the finest Kingdoms…’
‘… annihilated entire armies, at Jena and Austerlitz…’
Bahram and Zadig were down in their listening-post, and they understood that the notion of visiting the ex-Emperor had now blossomed into a fully fledged plan: evidently one of the Englishmen had connections in the Admiralty and had drafted a letter to the authorities asking for permission to call on the former Consul; what was more, the Captain of the Cuffnells had been enlisted to deliver this letter with his own hands, thereby adding the weight of his authority to their cause.
The approach to shore took inordinately long because of the security precautions, and the Cuffnells was still miles from the island when she was stopped by a sloop o’war. Through a battery of speaking-trumpets, the officers of the Cuffnells were subjected to a prolonged interrogation before being allowed to proceed to the harbour. This incident gave the Captain pause, and he was heard to remonstrate with his compatriots, warning them that even if Napoleon himself were to entertain their request, it was most unlikely that the authorities would allow them to call upon the prisoner. But the ladies were not easily discouraged, and the Cuffnells had no sooner dropped anchor than they set up a great clamour for the Captain to fulfil his promise. Accordingly the Captain’s ketch was lowered and he was rowed off to Jamestown with a letter of request in hand.
On the Captain’s return it was evident from his deportment that he did not have anything encouraging to impart: Bahram and Zadig managed to reach their listening-post in time to hear him say that Napoleon was so strictly guarded that it was harder to gain access to him than to breach a fort.
‘When the Bonaparte first arrived he observed to the Admiral that since it was impossible to escape from this island, his sentries and pickets might as well be removed. “No, no, General,” said the Admiral to this: “You are a cleverer fellow than I, so here they must be, and an Officer must see you every twelve hours.” And such has been the rule ever since.’