Cutthroats of the Coast

Chapter 33 - Of Olives and Deceit

It was some time before I could speak again to Jones.  He had agreed to consider my proposition and promised to have an answer for me as soon as he could.  The glimmer of amusement in his normally mirthless eyes told me how much Jones fancied the idea of exercising any sort of influence over me.  If this petty delay was all he could come up with, it was still something he was resolved to enjoy.

Not that I had much time to fret over this.  My work with Levi kept me busy over the next several days. I came and went from the bagnio at all hours.  My guard, a rather short bad tempered abid called Ahmad, followed me like a diminutive shadow, complaining all the time that he was not sure who the slave was, the infidel doctor or the blessed warrior.  Levi became used to my presence at his house and Abu became complacent about my absences from the bagnio.

In the meantime, unbeknownst to our captors, a plan on how to escape had formed fully.  Jack and I had discussed it at length and attempted to think of all the possible things that could go wrong.  Unfortunately for us, the list that we had compiled was discouragingly long.  Nevertheless, we resolved that continued incarceration was as likely to result in our deaths as an escape attempt.  The only way it could succeed was dependent on Jones and his boat but we were still waiting for his assent to join us.  

And he was taking his time deciding.  

Anxiety gnawed at me in the interim. Jones was behaving like a parson's daughter tempted by a roll in the hay but scared of the prick from the needle she'd find there.

Whilst he was procrastinating, the likelihood of our success diminished.  Our plan was also dependent on Levi's hospital being awash with patients but after a few days there were fewer deaths and only the most serious cases remained in residence.  The little mortuary was empty.  No man lay in the courtyard, the walking wounded had left, and those who could not were now able to secure a cot in the dormitory.  I worried my nails down to the quick.  I could not approach Jones beyond assisting with his treatment.  God forgive me but I took a great deal of pleasure removing the encrusted bandages from his still suppurating feet.  I was quite immune to the outbursts of fury that resulted.

Jack and I were about to give up hope on our being able to effect an escape when the Lord sent us a sign that the time to run was now.  Any further delay and our chances would be dashed to pieces on the rocks of despair.

There was a great commotion in the streets as Ahmad and I made our way for what I thought might be my final visit to Levi's for awhile.  The hubbub shook me from my dolorous musings and I struck up the courage to address Ahmad, an event that was normally discouraged by the abid with an unreasonable quantity of abusive terms.

"What is happening, my master?"  I said.  We had reached an impasse.  The way was blocked by the broad backs of many people filling the street, inching their way in the direction that we were heading.  An excited chattering from many voices could be heard over the normal noise of Salé's streets.

"Shut that useless hole you use to speak with, infidel.  God really cursed your father the day he fucked a shoe and begat you,"  Ahmad replied with typical sourness.  "If you could speak our tongue properly instead of braying like a donkey's backside, then you would know that another ship has returned, praise be to Allah."

"Another ship?"

"Are you deaf, you salt stealing savage?  Yes, another ship.  Now shut up before I beat you like the cur you are."  He cut a few trial strikes through the air with the camel crop he always carried on his wrist.

As it turned out, rather than beat me, Ahmad turned on the crowd.  There was nothing like a delay to shorten an intolerant man's temper.  With some effort, he beat a path through the mass by the simple expedient of striking men across the back of the legs to clear the way.  The black robes of the abid and his vicious demeanour stilled any further protest from the outraged citizenry.  It was something I took careful note of.