Voyage of the Istanbul Tigress Ch. 02

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"Yes, yes! A great bonus awaits us all after the beautiful Lady Dunsbrooke takes her place in the Imperial Harem. But, on the voyage itself, as we sail past so many rich lands, we can engage in aspects of commerce, yes? That is to be expected."

"Commerce? I am not stopping this vessel to pick up a few baskets of figs."

"Oh, Captain, you may like the commerce they have been promised. Slaves!"

"Promised? Do you mean that the crew of this ship expects me to carry slaves?"

"Well... they are hoping for a raid on some rich infidel shore, from which a few choice slaves might be carried to the markets in Istanbul. It will hardly inconvenience you at all!"

Hamilton pounded the desk. "Damn it man, you mean they expect me to attack some Christian town and take slaves?"

"It is true that you are fond of attractive slaves, yes?" He laughed and pointed behind him, at the fore-cabin where Katherine and Rachel waited. "This is also in your favor, Captain Hamilton. The crew knows of this, that you are English, but that still you understand the needs that arise that can only be quenched with beautiful slaves, yes?"

Hamilton leaned back. He certainly couldn't deny Van Schoonhoven's statement. He had used the captive women in Tunis at almost every opportunity, and then there was his behavior the night before. This was hardly what was expected of an officer in His Britannic Majesty's service.

"This is a delicate mission, yes?" the Dutchman continued. "You deliver Lady Dunsbrooke to the Sultan as a great gift from England. Yet that gift cannot come from an English ship. If that were to happen there would be a terrible outcry in London, you see? And yet, the gift cannot be delivered on one of the Sultan's own ships without a risk that he will think she was simply stolen from some merchant vessel, taken as an ordinary slave, and that all talk of a gift is a plot by some French-hating courtiers."

Hamilton had realized all that. He just nodded once.

"This brig-sloop is owned, by law and right by myself, it has a crew loyal to the Sultan and now an English captain. It is a mix that is, as a Jacobin might say, with par excellence! Ha ha."

Hamilton stood up and looked out at the bright Mediterranean. Would it have been better to have returned to England with his friend James Wray? Wray was happy there with his new bride, he assumed, perhaps happy enough to not care about spending time ashore at half-pay.

"Send for Mr. Ahmar, if you please, Mr. Van Schoonhoven," Hamilton said at last.

Qatadah al-Jameel ibn Ta'ullah al-Gizah, a tall man born on the Red Sea coast of Yemen, was known, for reasons Hamilton did not quite understand, as Ahmar. However, at once Hamilton recognized an excellent first officer, even if some of Ahmar's taciturn habits would not have been acceptable on an English ship.

Ahmar stepped inside the cabin.

"Thank you, Mr. Ahmar." Hamilton pulled out a captured French naval chart and pointed to a small island off the western corner of Sicily. "My understanding is that we are ten leagues south of Marettimo. Is that your understanding as well?"

"Malitmah," Ahmar said.

"That is the name of the island in Arabic, Captain," Van Schoonhoven added.

"Very well, Malitmah. So you agree with this position? Good." Hamilton watched the Yemeni for a moment, standing expressionless. "I would like to know more about this Irishman who attacked you earlier. It is my understanding that he had eight large war galleys, leaving him with six now, and double as many smaller galliots. But does he have any square-rigged ships or is he confined to oared vessels?"

"Mor Cuanaich uses war galleys to raid. He is only interested in raiding villages. He has taken small ships at times. He uses them to transport slaves into Corsair ports."

"Ahmar is quite correct, of course! Yes, indeed! I have seen the captives of Mor Cuanaich paraded into Tunis. He has excellent taste you would agree, oh, I am sure! Yet, it is never said openly that they are his captives, never! And yet at the auction houses all know that these slaves are being sold by his agents."

"Parading slaves is hardly a cause for shame in Tunis, so why is he secretive? He is Irish yes, but he is not the first European to thrown in with the Corsairs."

"Ah, but you see Captain, since the French sent an army to Egypt the whole Mediterranean is covered by English ships, yes? In Tunis and Algiers and Tripoli, as well as in Istanbul, they do not wish to annoy England. A man like Mor Cuanaich is not as welcome as he might have once been."

"The same could be said of any Corsair captain with raiding galleys. How is he different?"

"He fights with the French," Ahmar said. "He fights against the English. Always."

"Indeed! Captain Hamilton does the name Wolf Tone strike fear in your heart?"

"Fear? No. Tone was a rebel. He was caught in '98 when the French tried to send soldiers to help the Irish rebels. Tone escaped the hangman only by cutting his own throat."

"Mor Cuanaich was a great friend of Wolfe Tone. A great friend from an earlier invasion in, oh, was it '96? Yes! In '96."

"That was hardly an invasion. The French reached Bantry Bay and then turned around. They said the weather was too foul for them to land any soldiers."

"The French are poor sailors," Ahmar stated.

"Yes, indeed! Alas, the events of that incident, in Bantry Bay, lead Mor Cuanaich to abandon Wolfe Tone. A wise choice, now, yes? He now claims to pursue the liberation of his beloved island from their cruel overlords in these waters, by becoming a great slave raiding pirate and earning money to fight the English everywhere."

"He has a particular dislike for you," Ahmar said.

"Me personally? Because I damaged his galley? Yes, I heard that."

"Not merely that, Captain Hamilton, you damaged his galley using a ship with a crew of women. That has caused much ridicule for Mor Cuanaich."

Hamilton sat down. He looked from the plump Van Schoonhoven, sitting with a broad smile, to the tall, stoic Ahmar. "If he has a dozen galleys he must have secure places to obtain supplies. That is too many to sneak into Tunis, and I suppose he might be using some cove along the Barbary shore. But, if he allies himself with the French does he use their ports?"

"Yes," Ahmar said. "Mor Cuanaich has been known to do this. In France and Spain. Galleys cannot remain at sea for long. He has been seen in waters of Cezayir --

"In the Aegean," Van Schoonhoven interjected.

"-- far to the east. He must have a haven... here." Ahmar pulled out a different chart and pointed to the toe of the Italian boot. "Where is unknown."

"I was thinking of Malta, now that it is under French garrison."

"He would if he could sneak under the eyes of the English. That water teems with your frigates."

"Very well, thank you." Hamilton looked over the charts. "Hm, perhaps we should find this renegade's Italian haven."

"I am no man of the sea, Captain Hamilton," Van Schoonhoven said. "But is it, perhaps, not the wise course to flee from these pirates, yes? The safety of Istanbul is very inviting, it calls like the embrace of a warm slave on a cold night!"

"It is inviting. Too inviting. Mor Cuanaich knows where we are bound. I would expect he would spread his net here. The galliots would make effective pickets." Hamilton drew his finger over an arc south east of Sicily. "Under sail this vessel is faster than one of his galleys. If there were only a few searching for us than I would risk a run straight through, but with his numbers there is a chance that we might be surrounded or, worse, driven into an ambush. Think of it as an elk being taken down by a pack of wolves." Hamilton looked up at both of them, sensing an agreement from Ahmar. "So, gentleman, we will set our course here, north to Sicily, along that island's eastern coast, and from there we will seek out Mor Cuanaich's safe harbor in French controlled Italy."

"How do we do this?" Ahmar said.

"I thought we might ask. With a Republican cockade on my hat and huge epaulets on my uniform I think I could pass for French captain. What do you think?"

Ahmar nodded and almost smiled.

"I know just who can assist with your uniform, Captain!" Van Schoonhoven said with a laugh.

Ahmar nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then left as the Dutchman opened the door and yelled out in Turkish.

"We have many days to go, Mr. Van Schoonhoven, we need not to be concerned about these particular details now."

"Ah! But I would show you this anyway. Your head still hurts, yes? This will make you feel so much better!"

A pair of women came in, both dressed as typical sailors. Hamilton realized he had seen them aloof and simply thought they were simply young topsmen.

"Almas? Akouta?" He said.

"Yes, master," they replied in unison. The two beautiful twins instinctively took off their shirts. Their tanned bodies were covered with a light sweat, leaving their olive skin glistening. Almas and Akouta had been taken from Sicily and sold as sex slaves in Tunis, where they had been made part of the group of eight English speaking slaves who had formed the core crew of the Rose. The twins were fearless when aloft, and, seeing them here, he realized that working on a ship together was the perfect place for them.

Two other familiar women stepped inside. Unlike Almas and Akouta they wore short silken coverings over their hips and kept their breasts bare; the guise of a pleasure slave. Van Schoonhoven put his arm around a blonde.

"Rana is my own little treat, she keeps me warm, yes?"

"Yes, master," Rana said, a slight waver in her voice. Rana was a blonde, petite woman. She was Danish and had been sold by a cruel uncle when his ship stopped in Tunis. Rana had not taken to the life of a sailor and Hamilton had applied the whip many times to her round ass. The other slave was the Luloah, abducted from the French coast only a few years earlier. Like Rana and the twins, she was part of the core group of eight English speaking slaves, although while in Tunis and on the Rose, Hamilton had only used her a few times.

"I could not resist bringing along some of these beauties! There are others, Captain, none that you know, I think. I can bring them to you, yes?"

"Not at the moment. I will see them soon enough. Thank you, Mr. Schoonhoven. Almas, Akouta, it is a pleasure to have you as part of this crew. You are all dismissed."

The Dutchman smiled and laughed as he guided the women out of the cabin.

"Mr. Schoonhoven."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Have you... " he hesitated and then shook his head.

"You wish to know of Miss Nasira, yes? I knew you would ask, Captain! And why not? She is a rare beauty! Well, there was great turmoil in Tunis in the days following the death of Massih Bey, you understand of course! All of the Kocek Kapikulu were sent to Istanbul very soon after you and Mr. Wray returned to your English ship."

"Thank you," he said quietly.

##

Two days later Hamilton stood in the main top, one arm wrapped around a stay, as he held up his telescope. They had just passed through a short twelve hour gale without a single damaged spar, injured crewman or blown sail. It was hardly the worst storm he had seen, but still, he had been impressed with the professionalism of the crew of the Tigress. He sensed that they had a reserved confidence in him.

The brig was now sailing north, with the eastern shore of Sicily to larboard. Every few hours they passed within easy hail of coastal luggers and fishing vessels. Hamilton always identified himself as Captain Lansing of the Cynthia, a brig he knew was somewhere in the Pacific, and those encounters passed quickly and uneventfully. A Neapolitan frigate had been sighted but had not been seen since the gale. Hamilton did not want to be boarded and inspected, even by an erstwhile ally. It was impossible to know which small vessels were working for Mor Cuanaich, but any fisherman would trade information for a few coins.

Now at least the horizons were clear. Hamilton put away the telescope and climbed down the shrouds. Katherine was waiting at the quarter deck, wearing the short silken wrap of a sex slave.

"Edward," she asked. "May I check your bandage. I think you may be bleeding again."

Hamilton nodded and lead her down to his cabin. He sat down and looked sullenly as she unwrapped the bandaged and touched lightly. He flinched.

"I'm sorry, Edward. The cut is healing well. Does it still hurt?"

"Ow! Yes! Be careful, woman!"

"Sit still then!"

He glared at her. "Replace the bandages, quickly, slave, I must get back on deck."

Katherine frowned at the word 'slave' but said, "Yes, master. I'm sorry, master."

She opened a small jar and spread a small amount of the sticky substance along his wound. He flinched again. She brought out a fresh length of white cloth that had been taken from one of her dresses and began to roll it around his head.

He stood up and walked for the door. He stopped and turned. "Thank you, Katherine."

"You're welcome, master." She stepped towards him, her eyes downcast. "I wish.. I wish to thank you master."

"There is no reason to thank me. I have orders to take you to Istanbul and it is my duty and obligation to carry out those orders."

"I mean, thank you for helping me to learn, Edward. I should not have spoken as I did before."

He moved towards her and placed his hand under her chin. "Until we reach Istanbul you are my slave. That means no more 'Edward.' I expect you to address me as master."

"Yes. Yes, master."

"Inside the Harem they will treat you well, very well," he said, quietly. "I am sure there will be jealousy and bickering, but you are strong enough to deal with that."

"Yes, master."

"Learning how to be submissive all the time, no matter what your master's mood is going to be very important for you. That, at least, seems to be something I can teach well."

She smiled.

"Now, I can deliver you to the Sultan, but once there it is up to you to maintain his interest."

"Yes, master. Thank you for helping me. I still need to hold back my tongue at times."

"I've noticed." He kissed her and then went back on deck.

##

The sun was sinking a day later when the Tigress, at a modest three knots, passed a small headland on the Calabrian coast, in the area some fisherman had said galleys had been seen. Some French troops had reached the toe of the Italian boot, and through his telescope he had noticed a cavalry patrol, but there was no sign of any dangerous shore batteries.

A lookout yelled from the masthead.

The Tigress's bosun, a black man from southern Egypt known only as Zuberi, translated for Hamilton. "He says the harbor is in sight, Captain. He sees one war galley, it is..it is on the beach and careened. He says he sees wood strewn around it. I think he means the galley is under repair. Also, he sees two sail at anchor, both single lateen with low hulls. Those would seem to be galliots."

"Thank you, Mr. Zuberi." Hamilton pulled out a small sketched map and set it on the binnacle. Local fishermen talked, sometimes too much, when a gold coin was pressed within their grasp.

"This is strange," Ahmar said. "Mor Cuanaich would not place himself so openly."

"You're right, Mr. Ahmar. It is puzzling. This must be the town of Straca Marina." Hamilton pointed at the sketch. "There is a river, and judging by the outflow, I would expect it to be deep enough for his galleys, certainly for the small galliots. Even if he took them a few hundred yards up the river that would place them out of sight."

"Perhaps the storm, left his galleys in too fragile a state, yes?" Van Schoonhoven wondered.

"I think it is more likely they know we are here and want us to see an opportunity." Hamilton put the map away and pulled out his telescope. He scanned slowly over the mountainous coast.

"You mean it is a trap, yes?"

"Directly behind the town in that stand of trees, and over there, on that hill with a stone wall, I can see at least two or three places where a masked battery would be most effective." He slammed the telescope shut. "They want us to come in close and attack. The plunging fire from even a few guns in those hills would be devastating."

"Ah, indeed! It was a noble thought, Captain, to attack the beast in his lair. Alas, it is no shame to see through this danger and to now set course for the safely of the Golden Horn."

"We are not dealing with Mor Cuanaich but one of his captains," Hamilton said. "From what I have heard of this pirate he would not lie in wait so meekly. I believe most of his ships are still to the south." Hamilton then turned to Ahmar. "We heave-to now. A half hour before sunset put us under tops'ls only. We will wear ship and come about west by north. That will bring us a mile closer to shore, exactly what we would need to do in order to launch boats for a night attack. But...we will not do that. Instead, when it is dark we sail west back around the headland. There was a town in the hills there, above a small beach."

"Belevderi."

"Yes. That is where we attack."

"Might I enquire, Captain Hamilton, as to the reasons for assaulting that town. With the renegade in this town by the river what is the advantage of attacking the town where he is not?"

"We attack and we take slaves, and with luck, the raid is blamed on Mor Cuanaich."

"Then we attack," Ahmar said definitively.

Slaves, Hamilton thought with a smile, beautiful sex slaves, newly taken. There was an appeal to that, a very strong appeal, far more than he knew he should possess. But he did not worry about that, he worried about Mor Cuanaich. If he was wrong about where the Irishman's fleet was then before dawn he would be dead.

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AnonymousAnonymousover 14 years ago
Did not enjoy

I cannot get off on this. This series needs more sex.

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