After dinner they had a long talk about international affairs. The big news, that had not yet filtered through to Cairo, was that the Sultan had declared war on France over a month ago. This caused Roger to smile wryly, for, had Bonaparte known of it, he would certainly never have sacrificed one of his aides-de-camp to the Turkish Pasha. But, on balance, Roger felt he had no cause for regret that the news had not reached Cairo earlier. Although he had lost his beautiful Zanthe, he was finished with deserts sunburn, snakes, mosquitoes and the danger of being knifed in the street one night on his way home.
Continuing, Sarodopulous told him that, at long last, towards the end of August, a French force under General Humbert had landed in Ireland to give the malcontents there a stiffening of regular troops. Believing the French to be in much greater numbers than they were, the United Irish had again risen. But Humbert had barely a thousand men; so the Marquis of Corn-wallis, who had been sent to take command in Ireland, had soon routed the rebels and forced the small French contingent to surrender.
The French had now gained control over all but the more mountainous parts of Switzerland. In those districts bands of peasants were still fighting to the death to defend their liberties and religion. The terrorist Director Rewbell had sent his brother-in-law, Rapinat, as Chief Commissioner to the newly formed Helvetic Republic and, by massacres, rapine and burning churches filled with men, women and children, this unspeakable brute was endeavouring to crush all resistance.
The same ghastly scenes were being enacted in Piedmont. Backed by the French, a rabble from Genoa had invaded the King of Sardinia's mainland territories. Behind them as they advanced they left a chain of village churches in flames, with their pastors and congregations locked inside them.
In Bonaparte's pet creation, the Cisalpine Republic, everything had fallen into hopeless disorder. Owing to his wholesale looting of the treasuries of the cities the finances were in a state of chaos. General Brune had succeeded Berthier there and could keep the people down only by overawing them with displays of force. The pay of his troops was months in arrears; so he had to turn a blind eye to the beating, torturing and murdering of Italians by his officers and men, in an effort to extract money from them. Throughout all Italy everything connected with France had become a symbol for hatred and it was reported that the masses were only awaiting a signal from some bold hand to rise and slit the throat of every French robber in the peninsula.
On November 6th, having enjoyed four days of blissful relaxation, Roger took leave of his good Greek friends. After clearing the port of Alexandria the grain ship, by arrangement between Sarodopulous and her Captain, dropped round into the bay and Roger went off to her in a dhow. An hour later she was challenged by a British sloop-of-war and boarded by a small party, commanded by a Midshipman.
As the grain ship traded regularly to Crete, returning with cargoes of olive oil, the vessel was searched only perfunctorily. Roger, when questioned, said his name was Robert MacElfic, that he had represented a firm of Scottish merchants in Alexandria and that the French occupation had ruined his firm's trade with Egypt; so he had decided to return home. His mother had been a MacElfic and had always retained something of her Highland accent; so he had never had difficulty in imitating it. He soon convinced the ' Middy ' of his bona fides.
Roger knew, from his previous voyage, that the food and accommodation in a grain ship would be very primitive; so he had brought with him a supply of provisions. Philosophically, he resigned himself to possibly a week or more of considerable discomfort; but the weather and winds proved favourable, the crossing took only five days and he landed at Candia on the 11th.
He had decided on Naples as the next stage in his journey, as it had now become the principal British naval base in the
Mediterranean. He was certain that there he would be able to find a ship to carry him home, and it was home that he meant to go. Even Admiral Nelson, he felt, could not now consider him unpatriotic for deciding to give up his dangerous role as a secret agent. It would have been pointless to remain in Egypt as a cavalry officer. As it was he had come away with two further despatches from Bonaparte which, having read them within a few hours of receiving them, he knew would prove of considerable value. Moreover, he was in a position to give a far more detailed account of the French Army's situation and resources in Egypt than the British Government could possibly receive from other agents.
In the squalid little Turkish-ruled town of Candia he had to wait six days before he could get a passage to Naples, and then it was on a Turkish brigantine manned by Greek sailors. Again he took aboard a store of provisions, but they ran out long before he reached his destination. After leaving Crete the ship sailed smoothly up the Greek coast for four days, but on the fifth she was hit by one of the fierce storms that are apt to arise suddenly in the Mediterranean during winter. The Greeks, being good sailors, handled the brigantine well in the circumstances, but she lost her foremast and, despite all their efforts, was driven right off her course far up into the Adriatic.
Roger, as usual in bad weather, was wretchedly ill and spent three days of utter misery, unable to keep down even a few mouthfuls of biscuit. The thought of returning to England via Gibraltar, and probably having to endure another such prolonged nightmare while crossing the Bay of Biscay in December, caused him to alter his plans. He decided that he would instead travel up Italy and go home by way of France. With this in view, he asked the Captain to land him at Bari.
To his intense annoyance, the Captain refused to oblige him. Neither could he be bribed by a sum which Roger felt was as large as he was prepared to offer, since he could go home overland from Naples as easily as from Bari. He would now be losing only a little time, and time was now of no great importance to him.
Better weather came again, enabling the brigantine to beat round the heel of Italy and up through the Straits of Messina to Naples, where Roger landed on Monday, December 3rd.
In September, '95, he had been sent by Mr. Pitt on a mission to the Prince de Conde, who commanded the Royalist Army, and to General Pichegru, who commanded the Republican Army, both of which were on the Rhine. It was then that he had decided to assume a third identity as a non-existent nephew of his mother's, for which he took the name of Robert MacElfic; for he feared that, if he went to Conde as Roger Brook and to Pichegru as Citizen Representative Breuc, his two identities might become linked. Previous to that mission, while crossing the Atlantic, he had let his beard g^ow; so to fit himself for the part he had retained this slight alteration to his appearance.
The situation in Naples would, he knew, be very different from what it was when he had last visited the city early in the autumn of '89. Then, the doctrines of the French Revolution and Bonaparte's descent on a land of peace and plenty had not disrupted life throughout the peninsula. Now, although the Court of Naples was fanatically anti-French, many of the nobility and a large part of the bourgeoisie were said to hold strong Republican views. Numbers of them would have travelled in France; besides which it was certain that the French Embassy would be employing scores of secret agents in the city. Thus Naples had become another no man's land in which Brook might be linked with Breuc, and it was this which had decided Roger again to become MacElfic. Since leaving Egypt he had, therefore, again allowed his beard to grow; so after four weeks his cheeks and chin were now covered with short, crisp, slightly curly, brown hair.