Voyage of the Crimean Slaver Pt. 01

Nasira pressed against him and shivered from a sudden chill wind.

"I should return to England," he said.

"Are you feeling guilty about using that slave?"

"Of course I feel guilty about that. I should've helped her to go home. But that isn't it."

"She is slave. I was a slave of the Padishah and now I am your slave. It is the way the world is."

"I am happy you are mine." He held her close. "I want to be a naval officer. I want to be a naval officer in His Britannic Majesty's service. I've always wanted that. And now, now, I want to make post. I want to be a captain." Hamilton paused. "And the war. I should go back because of the war, and that does weigh on me. But, in truth, I want to take ships into battle against France, fight and win, and be make post."

"You are already a captain. You are captain of the Tigress."

"I mean a real captain." He hesitated. "As far as king and country are concerned I'm a just a Lieutenant, one who has languished in Istanbul for months without any good reason."

"That is not true, master. But, I will go with you wherever you wish. You own me."

He put his arm around her. "I know."

"When you commanded the Tigress you did whatever was needed in order to succeed. You took slaves in Italy, you fought Mor Cuanaich's pirates off Ithaca and at the slave brothel on Naxos, and you killed him at Teleoussa. You have fought and lived like a Corsair." Hamilton looked out across the compound, his compound, as he held his slave against the light winter wind. Nasira continued, "you may find it difficult to go from that to having to take orders from some English captain who cares more for polishing the brass work than engaging the enemy."

Hamilton looked away and then changed the subject. "I wonder why the Sultan... the Padishah. I wonder why he would send me this particular American woman as a gift. My God, look at her, she is beautiful, if anyone was meant for the Imperial Harem it is her."

Nasira poked him gently. "I do not think he sent her. We were rewarded with Tesamayageri. A generous gift. The Padishah has moved on to other things; he is more interested in tulips and poetry than anything else, including beautiful women."

"I thought you said the document came from the palace?"

"I believe so. I think she may have been sent under orders from the Kizlar Agasi. His would have known at once when these Europeans arrived illegally."

Hamilton nodded. The Kizlar Agasi, the Chief Eunuch of the Harem was one of the most powerful men in the Empire, below only the Grand Vizier and the Sultan himself. His purview extended far beyond the Imperial Harem, and he commanded a network of spies, informers and a small but efficient secret police.

"I suppose it doesn't matter." Hamilton smiled, "and she is a very beautiful."

Nasira tilted her head and looked at him.

"You my love, are, of course, more beautiful."

"I understand, Edward, and it does not bother me. There are women whose beauty surpasses mine, just as there are men more handsome than you. But, I love you all the same."

"Yes," said Hamilton slowly. "Really? Like who?"

"Antoine Garnier is quite --"

A musket shot cut off Nasira's reply. There was frenzied shouting near the east gate, but shouts of pleasure not alarm.

"Van Schoonhoven and Ghanashyam have returned," Nasira reported happily. "I am sure they bring good news!"

"I hope so. Let's go down and see." He held her tightly. "Garnier, really?"

Hamilton had first met Pieter Van Schoonhoven in Tunis, where he was an English representative of a sort. He didn't like Van Schoonhoven, but the man was the best one to approach the English diplomats in Istanbul. Hamilton wanted official recognition of his extended leave of absence. He did not want to be cashiered from the navy.

Ghanashyam was at the front of the first group of riders that entered the compound, the mud of side streets splattered over his horses and clothes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Ghanashyam," Hamilton said warmly. Hamilton had known the Indian scholar and linguist since the voyage of the Tigress.

Ghanashyam leapt down and handed the reins to one of the guards. "It is good to be back, Captain Hamilton!" He turned suddenly as one of the pack horses was being lead to the stables, and yelled something in Turkish.

"Send the horse over to Antoine," Hamilton said, "tell him to see that your bags are secured."

One of the French Royalist soldiers took the reins and lead Ghanashyam's horse towards the mansion.

"I am surprised they allowed you to take documents from the Imperial Archive," said Nasira.

"Oh? Oh, no, no, no!" the Indian beamed. "I did work for them the first day. They had letters of Yavuz Sultan Selim written in an older form of Persian which I have seen before. They were fairly mundane, just mediocre poetry and boring letters to his mother, but the archival scribes were delighted. They let me borrow several incredible books!"

"Books?" Hamilton asked.

"Books, yes, and also some scrolls. Oh, a map on an old sheep's skin that is supposed to be three thousand years old! And a set of fragments from clay tablets --"

Hamilton put up his hand. "Then everything went well."

"Very well! The eunuchs were skeptical of my interests, they have been too long at the center of intrigues, but they allowed me access to many of the things I requested in Tunisian Arabic and Armenian. I read Herillus of Carthage in Greek, but written with Ottoman script!" Ghanashyam said excitedly. "I improved my knowledge of the High Ottoman just by listening to them. That is all the palace eunuchs will speak in my presence, at least, although I am sure know the common forms well enough."

Hamilton answered with fast nod, his attention on another carriage as came through the gate.

Ghanashyam turned and saw the carriage. "The news is good, my friend, but I will let Van Schoonhoven tell you."

"I hope so. Thank you, Mr. Ghanashyam."

The Dutchmen struggled from the carriage. His health had started to falter even before the Tigress reached Istanbul.

"Captain Hamilton, yes, yes!" Van Schoonhoven said as he slowly walked over.

"Hello Pieter. I hear the trip was a success."

"Indeed, indeed!" Van Schoonhoven paused a moment to catch his breath. His personal slave Annalisa Jorgensen, who bore the slave name Rana, rushed out and leaned against him, supporting him as best she could. "Thank you my Rana...yes. Ah, Captain Hamilton I did speak, yes, with Stidolph and Trumble. They have been in communication with the Foreign Office, with...Henry Abington himself, yes, Sir Henry." The Dutchman paused to catch his breath. "To keep that to ourselves, yes? Also, you will be delighted, most delighted to know that they have been in contact with your Admiralty."

"What did they say?" Hamilton asked impatiently.

"Officially, Captain, officially you remain on detached service from the frigate, uh, Ariadne, yes, Ariadne, and your status is pending a report from Captain Baynes... ah, do not look disheartened, Captain Hamilton! This is good! You see --" Rana glared at Hamilton as Van Schoonhoven stopped once more for deep breaths. "They cannot --" The Dutchman began to cough.

"They are unlikely to openly acknowledge the real reasons for your mission here, Edward," Nasira said.

"Oh indeed," Van Schoonhoven said with a nod. "They cannot, oh no!"

Hamilton nodded. The mission to bring Katherine Abington was highly secret, it would not have been politic to let it be known that the Foreign Office was bribing the Great Sultan with the body of an English Viscountess even though she did go willingly.

"Where is the Ariadne?" Nasira asked.

"Convoy duty to India!" Van Schoonhoven coughed. "They are giving you several more months, yes, until the Sultan's gift of this place expires. Quite generous."

Hamilton nodded. Rana, not waiting for a direct order, began to lead to the Van Schoonhoven towards the mansion to rest.

"Oh Edward, this is good news!" Nasira hugged him.

"I would have preferred having something official," Hamilton stepped over to the wagon as goods from the district market were unloaded. "But what does it matter? My career is ruined anyway."

"Oh Edward, no!"

Van Schoonhoven stopped and turned. "Captain Hamilton. Speak to Daro."

Rana pulled her master away towards the mansion.

"Who is Daro?" Hamilton asked Nasira.

As if on cue an Ottoman officers pulled his horse up and leapt down. "I am Daro," he said in excellent English. He produced a document and handed it to Nasira. He said to Hamilton, "My name is Janko Danijelov, although you may call me Daro. I come directly from the Imperial Palace to discuss a matter of some importance about your ship." Daro paused, looking around casually as the carriages were unpacked and the horses slowly taken to the stables.

Nasira turned her back on Daro and whispered to Hamilton, "he has been sent directly from the Kizlar Agasi."

"Are you sure?"

"I spoke with Pieter Van Schoonhoven while he was on the grounds of Topaki Palace," Daro said, clearly understanding what they were discussing.

"Very well," Hamilton said as he walked back over. "What is your concern with my ship, Mr. Daro?"

"Just Daro." He walked towards one of the scrawny olive trees that dotted the courtyard, away from the men who were unpacking the carriage and wagons. "I will explain more later. But in short, Captain, your ship would be ideal for a short trading voyage of great importance."

"The Tigress hasn't returned from Trebizond."

"Yes, I am aware of that Captain. A slight delay, only, I assure you. The Russian have sent a small squadron along the Eregli coast, and the Tigress no doubt is taking steps to avoid them. For me this is not an issue as it will take some time to organize the cargo."

"And what cargo is this?"

"The Empire is expensive to operate. With various military losses, the treasury is bare. One way to generate some ready gold is to sell a number of women from the harem. Perhaps fifty or so in Naxos. This would have to be kept quiet, of course, and you, Captain Hamilton, have experience with delicate missions of this sort."

Hamilton's eyes narrowed.

"Lady Dunsbrooke is not one of those to be sold. Have no fear on that account. As I said, I have already discussed some of this with Van Schoonhoven. Later we shall talk more and discuss your compensations."

"That would be good," Nasira said, after Hamilton did not reply.

Daro turned and went to look over items being unloaded.

Nasira, leaned close to Hamilton and whispered, "this would be very lucrative plan, Edward. You have talked about buying the compound, perhaps you can make enough to pay for it and keep the Tigress."

Hamilton nodded. "I wish they had sent me something official."

"Oh, Edward," she said with a sigh, as she walked with him towards the mansion.

##

The meal in the large dining hall of the mansion was bigger than usual and much louder. Travelling from one end of Istanbul to the other was a journey that was vast in everything but distance. The transition from the interconnected neighborhoods, almost small villages, in the outer districts, to the ritualized, ornate, formal atmosphere of Topaki palace was like a visit to another world. Hamilton sat back and listened, enjoying Ghanashyam's enthusiastic tales of the archivist eunuchs, as he watched the antics of the slaves Disha and Galina as they served the food. Nasira in turn, recounted various dealings in the district over the past week, saving for the last the story of the newly acquired slave, Caroline Sutherland.

"You have great fortune in slaves, Captain Hamilton," said Daro as he admired Galina.

Hamilton smiled and looked over to Nasira. "Indeed."

"And to think, these are only the women he kept," Garnier quipped.

"He lost me once," Nasira said, to laughter. Other than Garnier and Daro, the others around the table, men and women, had been on the Tigress. They knew that while bringing Katherine Abington to Istanbul was the official mission, Hamilton's real goal was to find Nasira who had been captured by the Irish renegade Mor Cuanaich.

"Will Pieter be joining us?" Daro asked.

"Rana says he is too sick," Nasira said. "He should stay in bed."

"He has not been doing well since Naxos," said Hamilton.

"It became much worse when we were in the Palace grounds," Ghanashyam said. "I was worried he would not have the strength to take a coach back. Perhaps we should summon a doctor?"

Hamilton nodded. "Send for one in the morning."

There was a quiet pause, a moment when joviality seemed inappropriate. The beaded curtains swirled as the slaves Disha, Aysu and Galina brought out large trays with a wide variety of burek, Turkish pastries.

"Where is new slave?" Ghanashyam asked, as he watched the blonde Disha return to the kitchen. "I heard she is most beautiful."

"Ah, plus beaux!" said Garnier

Hamilton held up his hand. "We'll bring her out soon enough. First there is something I have to say," he glanced at Antoine Garnier. The Frenchman stood up and disappeared into another room. "My life has been enriched so very much by all of you, and in many ways." There was laughter. "But, there is one who means more to me than anyone ever could. Nasira."

"Thank you, Edward," said Nasira, blushing slightly.

"I have a gift for you."

"A gift?"

Garnier returned with a long object wrapped in silk. He handed it to Nasira and gave a deep courtly bow suitable for Versailles, to more laughter, and returned to his place around the table.

"We are in the nineteenth century now, my love," said Hamilton, "and so this seemed like a fitting gift for you."

"In your calendar, Edward, that will not start until the year 1801," she said, playfully, as she began to unwrap a gun. She held it up, her eyes wide and her mouth open. "Edward! Is it.. oh Edward, is it really?"

"It is indeed."

"Is there something special about this musket?" Ghanashyam asked.

"It's not a musket," said Hamilton. "This a Ferguson, a rifle and breech loading at that."

Nasira took hold of the trigger guard and pressed to one side, it rotated around, unscrewing a block that exposed the breech. "The ball and charge go in, and then I close it," she said as she rotated the trigger guard in to the other direction closing the breech. "I prime it, pull back and lock and fire."

"Most men can fire four shots a minute," Garnier added, "but you Nasira, will do five or six."

"And these are rifle shots!" Naisra moved the breach screw back and forth a few times then set the rifle down and wrapped her arms around Hamilton. "I love you, my master."

"Captain Hamilton, if I may," Ghanashyam said, "we brought something back for you."

"You are too kind, Mr. Ghanashyam, that is not necessary." Hamilton laughed and said, "so, let's see what it is!"

The Indian gestured and one of the slaves turned and gestured. A small woman, with long auburn hair, was brought out. She was dressed in a simple wrap of the sort slavers used to present their wares. The new slave stepped closer to Hamilton and looked up, her eyes a grey color.

"Oui! Un esclave espagnol belle," Garnier said with much enthusiasm.

"She is Spanish?" Hamilton asked.

"Yes, master," the slave replied, with a delicate accent.

"Ah! She speaks English!" There was much laughter.

"They told me she was taken from the Balearics just a few months ago," Ghanashyam explained. "Daro was the one who showed me the the specialty stalls." Daro nodded in acknowledgment. "I went for a walk and just happened by the Burnt Column," Ghanashyam added, to more laughter. The Burnt Column was the official slave market of Istanbul.

"Thank you, Mr. Ghanashyam, and you as well Mr. Daro," said Hamilton, smiling broadly. He ran his hand through the hair of the new slave. "What is your name."

"Marga , master."

"Show me your body Marga ."

The new slave opened the wrap and let it fall to the floor. She had excellent breasts, with erect nipples and soft curves that Hamilton savored as he looked down over her hips and thighs. Hamilton let his hand slide over her body, moving up and down along the inside of her thighs and then slipping his fingers along the soft folds of her pussy.

"I like this one, Mr. Ghanashyam, I like this one a lot."

Hamilton turned to Nasira. "Now would be a good time to bring out Caroline."

"Why don't you enjoy your new slave Captain Hamilton," said Daro.

Nasira, who still held her Ferguson rifle, smiled and nodded. "There is no hurry, master." After Hamilton hesitated, she added, "the rest of us can speak in Turkish."

Hamilton stood up as the others laughed. "I will be back soon enough, my friends." He took hold of the new Spanish slave and lead her outside and up the stairs. The upper stories of the mansion were still in need of repair after decades of neglect. He lead Marga to a room facing south that was at least clear of scraps of wood and tile, with only an old desk and a few boxes inside.

Marga followed dutifully behind him and dropped to her knees.

"How did you come to learn English, slave?"

"I was of Port de Maó, master."

"Port Mahon?"

"Puerto Mahon, si. I am comare and learned some little from wifes of sailors English."

He nodded. Port Mahon on the island of Minorca was the second largest English naval station in the Mediterranean. "What is a comare?"

"Women who was pregnant come to me, and some others with who are ill."

"Like a doctor? For women?"

"Yes, master." She stood, looking at him briefly and then letting her gaze drop down. She kept her hands at her sides, and her legs slightly spread.

"I'm impressed. You must be quite intelligent." He walked around her, looking down over her body. "And you are also quite beautiful."

"Thank you, master."

"Now you are my property."

"Yes, master."

"You are under my discipline."

"Yes, master."

"Stand up." She did. He put his hand in her hair and pushed it back over her shoulder. "You're trembling."

"I am sorry, master!" she pleaded.

"I'm not going to punish you for that, slave."

"Thank you, master."

"But I am going to flog you."

"Master?"

"You are new to my house and I want there to be no confusion. If you disobey you will be punished."

"Yes, master." Marga 's eyes began to cloud as she watched him leave the room for the moment to rummage through a sea chest that had been left in the hallway. He returned with a short whip.

"Now, straighten up. Put your hands behind your head."

"Yes, master." Marga hesitated and then put her hands behind her neck, intertwining her fingers. She spread her legs slightly, for balance, and then a bit more. She was shaking as he moved behind her.

He swung the whip in a short arc, snapping it across her ass.

Marga cried out, but held her position. The leather tails bit into her again and again as he whipped her ass and thighs a half dozen times. Tears streamed down her face, and her knees began to shake, but she remained standing.

Hamilton stepped in front of her. "Move over there," he pointed to the desk. "I want you to sit on it."

"Yes, master." Marga walked to the desk, turned around, and sat down on the top with her legs drawn together and dangling over the edge. She was breathing hard and winched as her ass landed on the hard wooden desktop.

Hamilton took off his shirt and stepped closer, putting his hands on her thighs. He spread her legs, slightly and leaned in. "Port Mahon is safe from Corsairs. How did you become a slave?"

"They solded me, master."

"Sold? Who sold you?"

"Some men, sailors English and officer. They come to me that I help some English woman."

"Go on. Continue."

"Yes, master. My body was tied and they sented me to a small, I, I do not know your word. La cuina."