Dennis Wheatley - The Rape Of Venice

During the three weeks that had since elapsed their existence had been idyllic. It would have been impossible to find more delightful surroundings in which to give full expression to those feelings for one another that they had so long repressed and, during the warm starlit nights in the pavilion that they shared, their caresses had been mingled with a thousand murmured endearments coming truly from the hearts of both. Yet there was no danger of their becoming cloyed with a surfeit of passionate embraces from having no other thoughts to occupy their minds.

Every day Roger spent several hours with Abdul ben Mazuri, discussing military matters, geography, and the innumerable differences between their two civilisations; and Roger was fascinated to find that in many respects the Mohammedan culture was in advance of the European, particularly where cleanliness, medicine and knowledge of ancient civilisations were concerned.

Clarissa spent those hours in the Vali's harem. His beautiful favourite, Dar-​el-​Naim-​Dwelling of Delight had shown the greatest friendliness, introduced her to all the other inmates of the harem, and soon taught her a few score words in Arabic which, eked out with gestures, were enough for simple conversation. The whole life of an Eastern beauty being love, Dar-​el-​Naim had also taught Clarissa certain things about love-​making that she would never have dreamed of for herself, and several secrets of the toilette by which she might make herself even more beautiful and desirable. Then in the evenings they attended the Vali's court to dine off fabulous delicacies and witness entertainments by jugglers, dancing girls and conjurors.

It was. therefore, not to be wondered at that Clarissa was most reluctant to have this lotus-​eating existence brought to an end. Yet Roger, on learning that an Arab merchant was shortly leaving in his ship for India, had insisted on asking Abdul ben Mazuri's permission for them to sail in it. Smiling down at her, he said:

'My sweet, truly grieve that my decision should be so displeasing to you; but we have discussed the matter ad nauseam already, and you know my reasons for it.'

'But I don't agree with them.' she protested. 'His Highness dotes upon you, and would never allow anyone to harm a hair of our heads.'

'He does at present, I had the greatest difficulty in persuading him to let us go. And, believe me, I too am most distressed to have to make this break. I have become greatly attached to him; and, as far as we are concerned, you have made this pavilion heaven for me.'

'Then why leave it? Why allow your morbid suspicions to play the part of a serpent in our Eden? I'll vow they are unfounded.'

He sat down on the edge of the divan, took her hand, kissed it, ran his lips up her bare arm and kissed her again below the ear. Then he replied, 'Alas, they are not. Khunsa Bajazet has never forgiven us that for having concealed our arrival Abdul ben Mazuri had him given ten strokes on the soles of his feet with the bastinado, and the old Vizier has become bitterly jealous of me. The Imam, too, protests as much as he dares at His Highness's showing favour to an Infidel. These and others are intriguing against us. and Eastern potentates are said to be fickle in their affections. Should these enemies of ours bring against us some trumped up charge and produce enough bribed witnesses to support it, we might well find ourselves dragged from this scene of our delights to rot in separate dungeons. And I'll not risk that. Loving you as I do, I'd be mad did I not insist on sacrificing our present comfort in order to secure our future safety.'

Unhappy as his decision made Clarissa, she knew that he would not have taken it had he not had good grounds for his fears; so she argued no further. Together they went into the tiled bathroom next door, in which they were in turn massaged by expert slaves each morning. Stripping off their clothes they both clambered into the great stone bath fed from a marble lion's head with constantly flowing water and, having refreshed themselves, banged the little gong that brought their slaves hurrying to help them with their toilettes for the evening.

Early the following morning, porters came for the hampers of clothes and many other presents they had been given, then they took a sad farewell of Abdul ben Mazuri, of the beautiful Dar-​el-​Naim and of the other friends that they had made during their stay in the palace. As a last courtesy the Vali ordered his Captain of the Guard to escort them and Bill Bodkin-​who was as loath as Clarissa to give up the life of ease and plenty he had been leading-​down to the harbour. There the Arab merchant, Selim Zamurrud, welcomed them most politely and took them aboard his ship.

She was very different from the Minerva and, like most Arab ships of the period, built upon the two-​hundred-​year-​old pattern of a Spanish galleon; but they were the only passengers and were given both clean and ample accommodation in her stern-​castle.

For an hour the Arab sailors sweated at long sweeps, rowing the ship northward till she passed the promontory that sheltered the harbour. Once round the point, her sails caught the breeze and she started on her tricky passage south through the many coral atolls in the channel. By mid-​afternoon they were rounding the southern end of the fifty-​mile long island where, nearly a month before, they had been washed ashore. A mile or more out, in a line running parallel with the coast for as far as the eye could see, huge waves were breaking in cascades of white foam. Zamurrud told them that the line marked the barrier reef, which almost encircled the island, and that when their raft was swept through a gap in it they had been extraordinarily lucky, as otherwise they would certainly have been dashed to pieces on the coral. As night fell they were heading north-​east out in the open ocean.

The Arab trader was bound for Goa, the Portuguese settlement on the west coast of India some two hundred and sixty miles south of Bombay. The direct run to it from Zanzibar was well over two thousand miles and, as they had to make the best use of the winds, the actual mileage covered was far greater. But they were lucky with the weather and had a following wind for a good part of the voyage; so they made the passage in eighteen days, which was highly satisfactory. They had lost touch with the Christian calendar and now learned on landing that it was November 21st.

Zamurrud went ashore with them and introduced Roger to an Indian banker who gave him a fair rate in sicca rupees for one of the Bills of Exchange on London that his fish-​skin wallet had preserved from serious damage by sea water. After paying the Arab the passage money agreed on, they set about finding another ship, but those of the Company called at Goa only in exceptional circumstances and no large ship was due to sail from the port in the near future other than one bound for Europe.

She was expected to reach Lisbon towards the middle of March and they toyed with the idea of returning in her, then spending the spring in Portugal; but, having actually arrived in India, it seemed foolish to forgo seeing the most interesting part of that country just because to reach Calcutta would entail a month or so spent mainly in small, not very comfortable, vessels. Later Roger was most bitterly to regret the decision to go on there; but no sense of foreboding suggested to either of them at the time that they might be heading towards tragedy, and on the 23rd they set out on the first part of their new journey in a Portuguese coaster that was trading down to Colombo.

Although the accommodation and food left much to be desired, the ten days that followed were the most pleasant of any they had spent at sea. The weather was still good, and the Little ship did the six-​hundred miles in leisurely fashion, calling at Mangalore, Calicut on the Malabar coast, Cochin, and Trivandrum, the capital of Travancore; so they saw much beautiful tropical scenery, several different Indian races, a number of splendid oriental palaces and four fascinating bazaars.