Chapter Fifty-Nine
The Deep Displeasure Of The Bey
Carolyn shook her head at her husband's disbelieving question. "I'm sorry, my love. But I don't know how to explain any of this. I think it must be some kind of miracle…"
She turned to the medium and placed one hand on her arm. "This is Madame Tibaldi. She made all of this possible. She's a… she's a spiritual medium."
"A medium, you say?" Daniel snapped. "You allowed a ghost-caller and charlatan into our home? I thought you had more sense than that, Carolyn. They prey on the hapless and the deluded. How much is she charging you for this? Whatever this is."
"Oh, now, now, my dear Captain…" Madame Tibaldi remonstrated with a click of her tongue. "I have not asked for or accepted any fee. Nor will I. My spirits insisted I come here to this house to assist this dear lady in contacting you."
She smiled as she patted Carolyn's hand comfortingly. "She was quite distraught for news of you. I have done all I can to help."
"Carolyn?" Within the smoke, Daniel leaned closer to them. "You look pale. Are you unwell?" He shook his head in bafflement.
"No, my love, I am quite well. We are all well. Candy and Lucy cannot wait until you return to us. But I was so worried for you. It has been too many days without any further word from you. I feared the worst. We all did. I wish I could be there, with you."
"I could ask for nothing more than that. I am sorry, my love…" Daniel passed a hand over his eyes. "I did not mean to snap at you. This cursed voyage has all become full of intrigue and cloak and dagger. It has me jumping at shadows. It is good that you are not here. I would be too distracted from what I must do."
"Uncle Claymore told you about the countess and her plans?" Carolyn asked anxiously. "That her cargo is not what it seems."
Daniel quickly looked right and left before he stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Yes, he did. And I read Sally Hall's letter that the captain of the Goose sent over to me. All is well with us and will remain so. But we walk a fine line between discovery and defeat. We must keep our wits about us."
He put out one hand toward his love. "But fear you not. There is nothing on this earth, or in the realm beyond, that will keep me from returning to you. It is only a matter of time. There are things we still need to do before we may sail once more for home. I need to pay a secret visit to an old friend to warn him of the danger that he and his country will soon be in."
He shook his head. "And if all goes to plan then our holds will be full of treasure thanks to an old man's gratitude. We will be able to pay off the Admiral and become our own masters. There will be no more sailing this way again. I can assure you of that. The next time I leave port, you will all be with me once more."
"But the risks for you now, my love?" Carolyn breathed. "The countess does not take defeat lightly."
"You may safely leave that harridan to my mercy once I return," Daniel ground out hardly. "She will never trouble us again. You can be very sure of that."
"And Jonathan?" Carolyn asked then. "How is he? Is he safe and well?"
"He is safe and well," her husband reassured her. "He will come to no harm under my watch, I can assure you of that. He is a quick and eager learner of all things nautical."
"Then all is as well as it can be then, Captain," Madame Tibaldi inserted.
"Yes, and I—" Daniel stopped speaking and turned his head. "Someone comes now. We must end this."
He stared directly at Carolyn. "I love you and will love you until the end of time and beyond. Go now, before we are seen. I will send word to you by the next returning ship when I can."
He glanced at Madame Tibaldi. "Whatever work of magic this is, turn it off now."
"Aye, aye Captain…" The medium nodded as she saluted him.
"Goodbye, my love…" Carolyn reached her hand toward the swirling smoke just as Tibaldi clapped her hands sharply and the smoke dissipated instantly leaving only the empty copper vessel.
"Well…" Martha slumped back in her chair. "I must say that was one for the books. If I hadn't seen it and heard it…" She shook her head. "I think we could all do with some coffee, hot and strong."
"I think you'd better bring in the sherry as well," Carolyn replied, falling back in her chair with a troubled sigh. "I think we might need it."
"Coming right up…" The housekeeper shook her head as she got up from her chair and walked away into the kitchen.
"It was good for you to see that your man is safe," Madame Tibaldi commented, taking Carolyn's hand between her own. "We must pray all will be as he said it will be. I have done all I can."
"Thank you…" Carolyn squeezed her hand. "I don't know how you did what you did, but we will all be eternally grateful."
"We all have karmic debts to be paid in this life or the next," the medium replied. "I would prefer to pay mine off in this life so the next will be more of what I have been used to. This lifetime has been somewhat of a comedown to how I once was in another life."
"You have lived other lives…" Carolyn asked in a dubious tone. "I don't understand. How is that even possible?"
"We all have lived as others, my dear…" The medium patted her hand. "Most of us simply do not remember them. I've had more than six reincarnations. I'm a lot older than I look. When I was reborn as Madame Olivia Tibaldi it was quite a shock, I can tell you. I've been a baron, a Medici, a duchess and a Viking chieftain."
She waved one expressive hand. "Why, as a Celtic warrior woman, I rode with Brian Boru against the Norse at the black pool of Duibhlinn. That was a very fine battle, and we won in the end. Oh, and I've even been a king of France."
"I see…" Carolyn frowned, not sure if she was being taken for a fool or if the woman truly believed what she was saying. "Um, which king of France, were you?" she asked sceptically, trying to remember her childhood history lessons.
The medium smiled. "Oh, I was an unknown one, dear. You see, I was quickly murdered by a pretender and no mention of me was made in history. Sad, isn't it? My destiny seems to be that of an unknown one throughout history."
"An unknown one. I wish I understood what you're trying to tell me…" Carolyn murmured, wondering where Martha was with the coffee and sherry.
"I was beheaded, you see," Madame Tibaldi said next. "Well, it's no use crying over lost heads." She smiled sadly. "Ah, but when I was with Brian at the battle of Clontarf…"
She sighed in ecstasy. "Now, there was a man, indeed. So tall and commanding with long braided hair the very colour of burnished flame. The gods were surely on our side that day. We thought we would all live forever…"
She swiped her fingers at the corner of her eye. "But it was not to be… Sadly, my Brian was murdered by a black-hearted braggart, and Ireland was made the poorer for the dreadful events of that fateful day…"
She sniffed. "Nothing was ever the same again…"
"How disappointing…" Carolyn murmured to humour her. "Well, I must say, tonight was a revelation. I am still not sure if it was even real. Maybe I am dreaming, and I will soon wake up."
"You are not asleep, and it was real as you and me, dear. And all part of the service I provide for those the spirits care about," Tibaldi replied comfortably as Martha returned with a laden tray. "Your man will be home again within six weeks. And he will be wealthy beyond even his dreams for your future happiness together."
"How can you be so sure?" Carolyn frowned as she poured the coffee and pushed a cup nearer to the other woman.
"Ah, that's what my spirits tell me…" Tibaldi tapped the side of her nose with one forefinger. "And they are never wrong. They have done their part tonight. The rest is now up to the Captain."
"We'll take your word for that," Martha said severely as she poured three glasses of sherry and passed them out. "I'll believe it when I lay these old eyes of mine on the Captain, in the flesh, and safe back in Schooner Bay harbour with all hands on board."
"Yes, me too…" Carolyn hid a tired smile as she raised her coffee cup to her lips and took a welcome sip of the warming brew. "All we can do now is wait and hope."
Her love had said he was safe and that was all that mattered. She would sleep easier tonight. She prayed the little medium was right about Daniel's return. But the six long weeks ahead were still to be endured…
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Claymore rose quickly from the aft hatch and inched his way across the deck, looking furtive. He hunched his shoulders as he climbed the stairs to the bridge.
"I thought I heard you talking to someone, Cousin…" He looked right and left. "Is that damnable Frenchman about here somewhere? He slithers like a snake."
"No, he's not here. I was talking to myself and the night," Daniel replied shortly, still staring at the point where his love's beautiful face had been only a second before. "I find it passes the time."
He had hoped for a longer conversation. Inwardly, he cursed his cousin's advent. Claymore was usually the first to take to his bunk of an evening and did not rise until the sun was well overhead. Then he would order the cabin boys to bring him hot shaving water and towels.
Once he had completed his ablutions, he would then order his breakfast to be delivered to his cabin from the galley. The ship's cook had carried many a complaint to his captain, stating if the man wished to live in a posh hotel and order room service, Daniel would do well to put his cousin ashore somewhere that provided such amenities.
"If you say that Frenchie's nowhere near…" Claymore shrugged as he inched closer. "You would do better to pay attention to what is going on around you and stop staring at the stars. That Froggie Frenchman, Cousin," he whispered. "I totally dislike his manner, dress and the cut of his jib. I say he is up to no good and brings the stench of espionage with him. He looks at everything down his long nose and says nothing."
Daniel turned to look at him with deep dislike in his eyes. "That man I am forced to endure aboard my ship is your creature. Yours and the Countess Beauvoir's. He is a French spy and plots and seeks to do us harm once we have left Tunis for the open sea. He plans to sink us with all hands. But he has gambled dangerously and will lose this round and then the battle itself."
"That Raven has nothing to do with me," Claymore asserted, holding up one hand. "I will swear it on a stack of bibles and every dollar I possess!"
"Careful, Cousin…" Daniel warned. "Or you might find yourself dispossessed of your fortune and your life. I suspect Corbeau has killed before and for less."
"How will he sink us?" Claymore quivered and shrank in on himself physically. "What say you, Cousin? What dastardly plot do you speak of? I do not know of anything like it, I swear."
Daniel looked right and left, his eyes seeking to pierce the darkness all around. "It is better if you do not know what I know. Your lips have not been known to be sealed if your property or person is ever threatened. You collapse like a stuck bag of air. Suffice it to say, there will be dark deeds done before this voyage is over."
"Ohhh…" Claymore pressed one hand to his forehead and the other to his abdomen. "I can feel both a headache coming on and a bout of dyspepsia. You are quite oversetting me, Cousin, with such rough talk. And all I have tried to do is help. We are family, after all. But I was not born for the sea. I do not have salt water in my veins."
"Return to your cabin then, Cousin. Nurse your ailments in private. I have enough to do to keep us afloat and out of danger."
"I'll go willingly…" Claymore groaned as he turned away. "If you would be so kind as to order your cook to bring me a large cup of hot milk and a plate of gruel. Not too hot or too thin, if you please…"
"Begone!" Daniel ordered with one threatening forefinger pointing back to the aft hatch. "And order your own victuals. I am not your nursemaid."
"Very well, I'm going, I'm going…" Claymore clung to the remnants of his dignity as he made his way back below, grumbling all the way.
"His blasted sensibilities are as easily bruised as an overripe peach…" Daniel turned back to look up at the white, serene face of the full moon sailing above them. "One day, you must tell me just how that spineless, jellyfish of a man was ever born a Gregg…"
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A week later:
The endless North African shoreline appeared to be barren and lifeless as the Carolyn glided past the rugged landscape on the final leg of her journey. There was no sign of the Rebecca ahead and Daniel breathed a cautious sigh of relief that his unwelcome passenger seemed to find nothing odd in that. He doubted the Frenchman was any kind of a seaman and did not understand sailing ships and their capabilities. The Carolyn had been deliberately sailing slow under only half sail.
The man had been true to his word and kept mainly to his cabin. He was rarely seen above decks and only then made some star calculations or took readings of wind and tide.
The Raven stayed out of Daniel's way, and he did not make any attempt at conversation if their paths did cross. A mutual nod of brief acknowledgement before each man went on his way about his own business.
Not once did the Frenchman look at or approach the pile of deck cargo where he'd stored his explosives. Daniel had set up a casual watch of rotating crewmen who could idle in close proximity, while performing their tasks, and report if the spy made any attempt to set his charges before he disembarked.
Daniel blew a sigh of relief when the familiar signs on the landscape and sea signalled they were approaching Tunis slowly hove into view. "About time…" he muttered as he put his glass to his eye.
The port city of Tunis could be smelled long before it was seen. The hot winds off the land brought the stench of humanity overlaid with the tang of citrus and the rich allure of many exotic spices. The smells combined with the salty air to make a heady mixture that invoked all sorts of imaginings about what marvels may lie just over the horizon.
All too soon, the outer reaches of La Goulette came into view. The hot Mediterranean sun was climbing in the sky and the great half-circle of the harbour invited a passing ship to change course and sail into the shelter of its reaching arms. The Lake of Tunis, and the city itself, lay beyond the narrow cleft that led into the inner world that teemed with trading vessels and pleasure craft from every corner of the world.
The African trade was lucrative and the many Beys who had gone before the current holder of the title had all profited handsomely from their cut of the hefty profits. Daniel could understand why the blasted French had turned their greedy eyes on such a fat and easy prize. The Bey and his men would not be proof against the onslaught of a modern European army and navy.
"I am sorry for that, my old friend," he whispered as he turned away from the view to begin shouting his orders for their docking.
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"This is where we must part company, mon ami," Corbeau said coolly as he dropped his bags at his feet beside the head of the gangplank. "Your services to my country and cause have been admirable. I will put all that in my report."
Daniel scowled at him. "I wish nothing more from you than your swift withdrawal from my ship so I may get on about my legitimate business of the trade I came here for."
"As I said before, so American," the Raven complained with a sigh. "Always so impatient to be about your business. You need to take time to breathe, my friend and smell the fresh air." The Raven inhaled deeply, then pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket and pressed it to his offended nostrils.
"Did you get a whiff of something you don't like?" Daniel inquired with a wry smile. "Perhaps you do smell a rat, after all. I know I do."
"I have been completely civilised in our dealings," the Raven replied haughtily. "I would ask you, Monsieur, to afford me the same courtesy."
Daniel stared at him. "After you are safe off my ship and have become someone else's problem. Then I shall not give you another thought."
"As you wish…" The Raven held out one hand which Daniel ignored.
"The dock is that way…" He pointed with his bearded chin. "I trust we will never see each other again. Goodbye."
"Never is a very long time. Au revoir, mon ami…" The Frenchman shrugged in true Gallic fashion as he picked up his bags and descended the gangway to the teeming docks below.
Daniel frowned at the Rebecca which was moored further along the dock. He gave a single wave of acknowledgement to the figure standing on the bridge watching him. Lucius waved back and then went on about his business of unloading.
Mr Jarvis appeared at Daniel's side. He frowned after the Frenchman until he disappeared from view among the piles of cargo and noisome press of humanity.
"What now, Captain?" the first mate asked softly. "He must return because he has not yet touched his charges. No doubt he will wait for darkness and spy on us until we prepare to sail for home."
"Yes, he must and we will be waiting for him." Daniel turned from the view and placed one hand on the younger man's shoulder. "The ship is yours to command, Mr Jarvis. Get the unloading of our cargo underway. I care not to linger in port longer than needed."
He grinned hard as he passed a hand over his bearded chin. "I will send my cousin ashore to do what he does best. He can negotiate with the wily and tricky African merchants for a cargo worthy of our time and expense."
"At least, you can find a use for him, Sir," Jarvis commented with a shake of his head. "The man runs the men ragged with his constant demands."
Daniel chuckled drily. "It's just as well he will not be coming sailing with us again. Once we are home again, he will cling to his office desk like a limpet."
He looked down at himself. "I must change into my formal dress. Then I will go ashore to meet a very old friend. He will want to know the nature of our return voyage here and he will demand a detailed list of our cargo."
Mr Jarvis raised his brows. "And that cargo includes one nasty-eyed Frenchman?"
Daniel shaded his eyes against the glare of the noonday sun with the flat of his hand. "I think our friend Corbeau will come up in conversation. Send a man to fetch me a barrel of that honey mead we have in the cargo hold. It will grease the old man's throat very nicely and make my unwelcome news easier to impart without him wanting to remove my head."
He turned to the younger man. "Do not worry if I do not return until after the morning watch begins. The old man and I have a lot of catching up to do. He likes to savour a conversation, and he'll get down to the marrow of it in his own good time."
"Aye, aye, Sir. I'll set a close watch for your return." Jarvis nodded as he saluted smartly before he hurried away about his duties.
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"By the glorious and sacred beard of our beloved Prophet!" Ali Bey, the irascible, absolute ruler of his small Tunisian state, swept his hand among the exquisitely carved, ivory chessmen in a fit of pique, sending some of them tumbling from their marble board and onto the bedchamber's thick Persian carpet.
"I could swear you've done nothing but cheat me these last hours!" he complained in heavily accented English. "But I cannot see how! I should order you to be boiled in oil and get the truth from your worthless, American hide!"
"But you won't." Daniel shook his head at the bellowed accusation. "Because you know that I always play an honest game. You lost the last five games, fair and square. Maybe you are getting too old for the intricacies of the match."
"Old, is it, you say? You surprised me by showing up where you're not supposed to be, that's all." The old man glared balefully at his opponent seated across the low marble table from him. "The last time you sailed from my waters, you swore you would never return."
He licked his full lips. "And yet, here you are again. All dressed up like you're on parade! Is that supposed to impress me?"
The old man muttered an Arabic oath. "Now the sun will soon rise and you have still not told me why you have returned after so much time. I want to know why you have come now."
He scowled as he picked up his silver-filigreed glass full of the honey mead Daniel had so thoughtfully brought with him. The old man drained it of half the remaining sweet liquid. "And you bring me the fruit of the bee to soften my thinking. You know I am forbidden to touch the fermentation of the grain or grape."
He held up the glass to admire its contents. "But this heavenly sweetness is surely enjoyed by God himself…" He took another long sip and smacked his lips in appreciation.
He then frowned at his guest. "You do not drink with me?" he accused. "Drink!" He waved his free hand at Daniel's half-empty glass.
"Very well…" Daniel shrugged as he raised the glass to his lips. "But why does there have to be a reason for my return? Maybe I wished to see an old friend once more. Play a little chess with him to pass the time and rink to his health."
"Because there does!" The Bey waved an impatient hand. "I do not see you for years and yet you walk up to my guards and demand I see you at once! And they let you in! You act as if you own my palace and once again you manage to beat me at my own game! I should order you to be dismembered and fed to the sharks! They have developed a taste for white flesh!"
"But you won't do that either," Daniel replied quietly, as he bent to retrieve the scattered chess pieces and reset the board. "Then you would have no one left who would be willing to play against you for fear of incurring your wrath. And you are curious about why I've returned after so long."
"Christians…" the Bey muttered darkly into his combed and perfumed grey beard. "You're all too devious for a frail old man and you speak in riddles. You seek to confuse me with your stealth and guile. And your sweet wine."
He slapped his silk-clad knee with a hand burdened with rings set with precious stones. "I swear, the benighted Frenchmen lurk, trying to steal my lands and people from me! At least, the Ottoman Turks are good Muslims and have been honest thieves!"
He stared at his unexpected visitor as Daniel resettled himself on his cushions. "More…" The old man commanded imperiously as he held out his glass. "Then you will tell me why you are truly here. It is not to visit with me. You have a more sinister purpose. I can see it in your sky blue eyes."
The old man grunted as Daniel deftly poured another measure of the honey mead from the small barrel beside him into the glass. "Eyes I would gladly have plucked out and strung on a necklace. I have always said, they are such a pretty colour."
He chuckled grimly as he saluted his guest and drank from the glass. "My youngest new wife adores that colour. Your eyes would make a nice wedding gift for her."
"You speak of benighted Frenchmen trying to steal everything from you," Daniel replied, ignoring the dire threat. It was an old joke between them. "When I docked my ship, I brought one such to your city. He is named the Raven."
The old man spluttered into his mead. "The devil you say! What treachery is this? Why did you do it? The French are no friends of yours!"
He fumbled at the handle of the large knife hidden behind the perfumed silken sash at his waist. He finally succeeded in drawing the weapon from its scabbard and waved it menacingly. "I should slit your throat as you sit there laughing at me," he complained. "Or call my guards and have you gutted like a fish." He leaned sideways and closed one glaring eye as he tried to aim the point of the weapon in Daniel's direction.
"But that would spoil your most excellent carpets," Daniel countered, keeping a close eye on the waving knife point.
He did not fear the old man's threats, but he was concerned he might slip and someone could get seriously hurt. The blade looked sharp and it glinted in the light of the overhead lamps.
"Put that knife down and I will tell you everything," he said, picking up the Bey's glass and holding it out. "You look like you could do with another drink."
"Silver-tongued devil…" the Bey muttered, as he tossed the knife aside and reached across the table to take the glass.
He raised it to his lips and Daniel breathed a cautious sigh of relief. Slowly he bent down to pick up a nearby brocaded cushion and tossed it over the knife where it lay on the carpet beside them. It was better to hide it than to have it remind the old man of his threat to do his guest actual harm.
He picked up his own glass once more. His head was beginning to ache. He didn't doubt it was going to be a long night.
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