Chapter 13: Gone Away

Four days later we arrived in Suez. The town was a rather small and dilapidated place, and I wondered why it had the honour and prestige of being the capital of the Province. I said as much to Thomas.
“The town is an important stop on the Hajj Trail. Pilgrims travelling to Mecca and Medina take ship here to cross the Red Sea. During the month of Hajj the population of the town is swollen to five times its normal size, and more money is made by the inhabitants of the town in that month than during the rest of the year. The Hajj has finished for the year, which is why the place appears deserted. The governor is probably at Agrod, although I will present the letter written by Sayeed to the Governor’s Palace. There will be some official bureaucracy there even if the governor is not.”
I accompanied Thomas to the palace, where we unearthed the assistant deputy governor’s deputy assistant from a warren of offices. Thomas produced the letter from Sayeed, which the official read through at great speed. There followed a torrent of Arabic that even Thomas was stretched to keep up with as the official’s accent was harsh and at times unintelligible. After much questioning and answering Thomas thanked the official and we returned to our lodgings in a small hotel where Mimi and Hassan had already unloaded our baggage from the cart.

“Cleopatra, or Eloise de La Zouche as you know her, left Suez a week ago. Naturally the official we talked to at the palace said he had no idea she was wanted by the authorities, although he could have been bribed to keep his mouth shut,” Thomas grinned. “Talking of which, several bodies with severed throats were discovered in the stables of the house where Eloise de La Zouche and her party had been staying. I assume the cadavers are the gang of kidnappers.”
“Did he say where Eloise de la Zouche has gone?” I said, glad in one way I did not have to confront her, but dismayed that we would have to trail after her to who knows where.
“The official does not know, but as she left on an Omani dhow...”
I interrupted Thomas. “Omani dhow?”
“The Omanis are renowned sailors; Sinbad was an Omani, and their large, ocean going, dhows trade across the Indian Ocean. In fact the Omanis were trading with India long before the Portuguese, French, or the English came on the scene. Likewise, they traded in the Philippines before the arrival of the Spanish, and throughout the Spice Islands before the Dutch. “
I thanked him for his information and bade him continue.
“As I was saying, if she boarded an Omani dhow she is travelling far. To India, the East Indies, even as far as Cathay, who knows?”
“I would lay odds the dhow is sailing to Pondicherry, a French enclave in India,” I said. “Eloise de La Zouche has contacts there. We must charter a vessel immediately and pursue her.”
Thomas shook his head. “Suez does not have any deep sea craft. The dhows harboured here ply only between Egypt and Arabia. Although there maybe a few brave crews who might venture as far as the further end of the Red Sea, where it meets the Arabian Sea.”
“Yet an Omani ocean going dhow was here recently. How do you account for that?” I probably spoke sharper than intended.
Thomas replied in a like manner. “Obviously, the de La Zouche female arranged for the vessel to be here. Does she have a retinue, and/or a plethora of baggage? Omani dhows are large vessels, and can carry a great deal of cargo.”
I apologised to Thomas for my sharpness of tone, which he graciously accepted.

“Eloise has a penchant for Nubian body guards,” I said. “When she and I last crossed swords in Naples she had probably a dozen of the scimitar-wielding killers in her employ. She had fewer when I left Italy but has probably recruited more since then. Part of her baggage includes thousands of gold Sultani looted from the Alexandria Provincial treasury; she may have many other valuables acquired in a like manner. And of course she has Captain Guest and Missus Crudwright with her.”
Thomas pondered on my information.” It may be possible, with enough money being offered, to hire a dhow to take you to Aden, which is a port on the Arabian Sea near its junction with the Red Sea. I know the East India Company have a presence there, and their vessels call in on their way to and from India. You could take passage to India when one of John Company’s vessels docks in the port.”
I had never heard of the place, but it seemed the ideal location to pick up a ship bound for India, and agreed to Thomas’s suggestion.

An hour later he returned with a small statured, wiry looking, man in tow. “This is Captain Abdul ibn Saleh, master and owner of the dhow Seagull, and he is willing to take you to Aden for a price of fifty Marie Theresa thalers.”
“Does the captain think I am a subject of the Austro-Hungarian Empire? I carry no Austrian currency.” I was dumbfounded to have to pay in anything other than British sovereigns or Ottoman sultani.
“The captain is a Yemeni, from the Land of Sheba, which is why he is familiar with the Red Sea down to its juncture with the Arabian Sea. The Maria Theresa thaler is the only currency recognised throughout Arabia, Yemen, and the Sultanates of Muscat and Oman,” Thomas explained.
I was amazed that the currency of trade in a large part of the Middle East was that of a long dead Austrian monarch, and wondered how such a bizarre phenomenon came to pass.