Tim Severin - Corsair

Turgut recognised it at once. ‘And you made this yourself?’

‘No, effendi. It was drawn by the slave who is my friend. The one whose home is across the western ocean.’

Turgut was quick on the uptake. ‘I take it that you are suggesting he is qualified to help in the library, that his skill could be valuable in preparing a new version of the Kitab-i Bahriye.’

‘That is so, your excellency.’

Turgut thought for a moment and then said quietly, ‘Friendship has its obligations. I will increase my offer of his purchase price with his master. As soon as that is settled, your friend can begin work as a draughtsman and illustrator and come to live in this house. That also will be an auspicious time for both of you to celebrate your adoption of the True Faith. In the meantime you should be thinking about your new names.’

‘I HOPE THE ABDAL has a steady hand and a sharp razor,’ said Dan on the morning that he and Hector were due to profess Islam. The two friends were at Turgut’s mansion preparing for the ceremony the captain had called their sunnet. They had already paid a visit to one of Algiers’ public bath houses and were putting on new white cotton gowns.

‘Judging by the number of slaves from the bagnio who converted to Islam, the abdal must have plenty of practice in removing that piece of skin,’ said Hector, trying to sound more confident than he was feeling. ‘I’ll be glad when it’s over. It will put an end to all the jokes about being too sore to walk straight.’

‘ . . . or make love again,’ added Dan.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ confessed Hector. ‘I’ve never been with a woman properly. Just had one or two encounters with village girls, but always brief and they never meant anything.’

‘Then you’ve got something to look forward to, though you don’t earn enough to visit the bordellos that the odjaks use. They aren’t allowed to marry until they’ve reached senior rank and until then must live in men-only barracks. No wonder they appreciate good-looking young men.’

Hector ignored his friend’s banter as he looked into a mirror to adjust his red slave cap which he had been told he should wear during the ceremony. ‘Have you decided what you will be called in future?’ he asked.

‘I’ll be Suleiman Miskita – Suleiman the Miskito. What about you?’

‘The captain suggested that I become Hassan Irlanda – Hassan from Ireland. He’s offered to act as my sponsor even though I really don’t need one.’

‘Turgut Reis has really taken a liking to you, hasn’t he?’

‘No more jokes, Dan,’ said Hector seriously. ‘I think it is because he doesn’t have any family of his own.’

‘Well then, let’s not keep him waiting.’

Together the two friends made their way to the mansion’s central courtyard where a small group of the other servants were waiting for them. Spread on the ground was a large carpet, on which stood jugs of flavoured drinks and trays of food – a first course of sheep’s head and feet served with fried eggplant and cucumbers in yoghurt, followed by a sweet course of pears and apricots, grape paste and halva flavoured with almonds. Hector’s tutor in calligraphy had already arrived and Hector caught a glimpse of the abdal, the specialist who would perform the circumcision, as he disappeared into a side room with his bag of surgical tools.

Moments later the captain himself appeared, resplendent in a dark red jacket over his embroidered shirt, full pantaloons, and a maroon turban with matching silk sash. With him were two of his friends, both elderly men with grave expressions and full white beards. They were to witness the act of profession. The captain was in an expansive mood. ‘Peace be upon you,’ he said genially to the assembled company. ‘This is an important day for my household. Today you are my guests and I want you all to enjoy yourselves, so take your places and we will eat together.’

He seated himself at one end of the carpet and invited his two colleagues to sit beside him with the abdal next to them. Dan and Hector were to be seated directly opposite. When his guests had eaten their fill and the trays had been cleared away, Turgut called for everyone’s attention. ‘My friends,’ he said, ‘the ceremony for the taking of the right path is always an occasion for celebration. When there is sunnet for the sons of the Sultan, the festivities last for fifteen days and nights. A thousand plates of rice and fifteen roast oxen are despatched daily to the people of the city, there are fireworks and parades, and the harbour is a mass of coloured lights attached to the masts of the assembled vessels. Today may seem very humble by comparison, but nevertheless it is equally a time of rejoicing, and the proper ritual must be observed.’ Rising to his feet, the captain then beckoned to Dan to come forward. The Miskito stepped into the centre of the carpet and stood facing his master. Turgut asked him formally, ‘Is it your wish to acknowledge the true Faith?’

‘It is, effendi.’

‘Then raise your finger, and pronounce the shahadah loudly and clearly so that all may hear.’

Obediently Dan did as he was told, and recited the words, ‘There is no god but God and Muhammad is the Messenger of God.’

Turgut turned to his valet standing in the background, and nodded. The valet came forward with a pair of scissors. Removing Dan’s red cap, he threw it on the ground and then deftly clipped away the Miskito’s long hair leaving only a central top knot. Next the valet clapped his hands, and his assistant brought forward a length of tan-coloured muslin which the valet carefully wound around the Miskito’s head as a turban. When the valet was satisfied, he stepped back and Turgut announced in a loud voice, ‘From now on you will be known as Suleiman the Miskito. In the words of the holy Qur’an, “He who rejects false deities and believes in Allah has grasped a firm handhold which will never break.”’

To murmurs of approval from the audience, the valet then escorted Dan away to the side room, even as the abdal quietly left his place and followed.

Next it was Hector’s turn. Rising to his feet, he stepped into the centre of the carpet, and at the captain’s prompting held up his index finger and repeated the words of the shahadah, as Dan had done. After his red cap had been removed and his head shaved, he too was given a turban, though this time it was a more expensive length of fine white cotton shot through with gold threads. Then, Turgut stepped forward and placed in his open palm a little container, the size and shape of a pill jar, fashioned of brass. As Turgut pressed a catch on the side, the lid sprang open revealing a little compass, its needle quivering gently. Engraved on the inner side of the open lid were lines of Arabic writing. ‘Here are inscribed the names of the cities and countries of the known world,’ said Turgut, ‘and should you ever find yourself in such places, consult the needle to learn the qibla that you may worship towards the pillars of Islam.’ Then, to everyone’s surprise, he leaned forward and gave Hector a formal embrace. As he did so, he whispered in his ear, ‘Don’t be afraid. It happens at once, and is a wonderful thing as Allah has wished. Praise be to God.’ Then he stepped back, as his valet led away Hector for his circumcision.

To his alarm Hector could not see Dan anywhere when he was ushered into the side room where the abdal stood waiting beside a low bed. The only other furniture in the room was a sturdy stool. ‘Do not be afraid,’ said the abdal. ‘Your friend is recovering next door, and will soon rejoin the celebrations. The pain is quickly over. You may lie on the bed or be seated on the stool, whichever you prefer. Osman, the valet here, will remain to bear witness.’