The boat that had left the marshes1 two days before paddled gently alongthe Shatt el Arab. The stream was swift and the old man who was pro-pelling the boat needed to do very little. His movements were gentle andrhythmic. His eyes were half closed. Almost under his breath he sang verysoftly, a sad unending Arab chant:
“Asri bi lel ya yamali
“Hadhi alek ya ibn Ali.”
Thus, on innumerable other occasions, had Abdul Suleiman of theMarsh Arabs come down the river to Basrah. There was another man inthe boat, a figure often seen nowadays with a pathetic mingling2 of Westand East in his clothing. Over his long robe of striped cotton he wore a dis-carded khaki tunic3, old and stained and torn. A faded red knitted scarfwas tucked into the ragged4 coat. His head showed again the dignity of theArab dress, the inevitable5 keffiyah of black and white held in place by theblack silk agal. His eyes, unfocused in a wide stare, looked out blearilyover the riverbend. Presently he too began to hum in the same key andtone. He was a figure like thousands of other figures in the Mesopotamianlandscape. There was nothing to show that he was an Englishman, andthat he carried with him a secret that influential6 men in almost everycountry in the world were striving to intercept7 and to destroy along withthe man who carried it.
His mind went hazily8 back over the last weeks. The ambush9 in themountains. The ice-cold of the snow coming over the Pass. The caravan10 ofcamels. The four days spent trudging11 on foot over bare desert in companywith two men carrying a portable “cinema.” The days in the black tent andthe journeying with the Aneizeh tribe, old friends of his. All difficult, allfraught with danger—slipping again and again through the cordon12 spreadout to look for him and intercept him.
“Henry Carmichael. British Agent. Age about thirty. Brown hair, darkeyes, five-foot-ten. Speaks Arabic, Kurdish, Persian, Armenian, Hindustani,Turkish and many mountain dialects. Befriended by the tribesmen. Dan-gerous.”
Carmichael had been born in Kashgar where his father was a Govern-ment official. His childish tongue had lisped various dialects and patois—his nurses, and later his bearers, had been natives of many different races.
In nearly all the wild places of the Middle East he had friends.
Only in the cities and the towns did his contacts fail him. Now, ap-proaching Basrah, he knew that the critical moment of his mission hadcome. Sooner or later he had got to reenter the civilized13 zone. ThoughBaghdad was his ultimate destination, he had judged it wise not to ap-proach it direct. In every town in Iraq facilities were awaiting him, care-fully discussed and arranged many months beforehand. It had had to beleft to his own judgement where he should, so to speak, make his landingground. He had sent no word to his superiors, even through the indirectchannels where he could have done so. It was safer thus. The easy plan—the aeroplane waiting at the appointed rendezvous14—had failed, as he hadsuspected it would fail. That rendezvous had been known to his enemies.
Leakage15! Always that deadly, that incomprehensible, leakage.
And so it was that his apprehensions16 of danger were heightened. Herein Basrah, in sight of safety, he felt instinctively17 sure that the dangerwould be greater than during the wild hazards of his journey. And to failat the last lap—that would hardly bear thinking about.
Rhythmically18 pulling at his oars19, the old Arab murmured without turn-ing his head.
“The moment approaches, my son. May Allah prosper20 you.”
“Do not tarry long in the city, my father. Return to the marshes. I wouldnot have harm befall you.”
“That is as Allah decrees. It is in his hands.”
“Inshallah,” the other repeated.
For a moment he longed intensely to be a man of Eastern and not ofWestern blood. Not to worry over the chances of success or of failure, notto calculate again and again the hazards, repeatedly asking himself if hehad planned wisely and with forethought. To throw responsibility on theAll Merciful, the All Wise. Inshallah, I shall succeed!
Even saying the words over to himself he felt the calmness and the fatal-ism of the country overwhelming him and he welcomed it. Now, in a fewmoments, he must step from the haven21 of the boat, walk the streets of thecity, run the gauntlet of keen eyes. Only by feeling as well as looking likean Arab could he succeed.
The boat turned gently into the waterway that ran at right angles to theriver. Here all kinds of river craft were tied up and other boats were com-ing in before and after them. It was a lovely, almost Venetian scene; theboats with their high scrolled22 prows23 and the soft faded colours of theirpaintwork. There were hundreds of them tied up close alongside eachother.
The old man asked softly:
“The moment has come. There are preparations made for you?”
“Yes, indeed my plans are set. The hour has come for me to leave.”
“May God make your path straight, and may He lengthen24 the years ofyour life.”
Carmichael gathered his striped skirts about him and went up the slip-pery stone steps to the wharf25 above.
All about him were the usual waterside figures. Small boys, orangesellers squatting26 down by their trays of merchandise. Sticky squares ofcakes and sweetmeats, trays of bootlaces and cheap combs and pieces ofelastic. Contemplative strollers, spitting raucously27 from time to time, wan-dering along with their beads28 clicking in their hands. On the opposite sideof the street where the shops were and the banks, busy young effendiswalked briskly in European suits of a slightly purplish tinge29. There wereEuropeans, too, English and foreigners. And nowhere was there interestshown, or curiosity, because one amongst fifty or so Arabs had justclimbed onto the wharf from a boat.
Carmichael strolled along very quietly, his eyes taking in the scene withjust the right touch of childlike pleasure in his surroundings. Every nowand then he hawked30 and spat31, not too violently, just to be in the picture.
Twice he blew his nose with his fingers.
And so, the stranger come to town, he reached the bridge at the top ofthe canal, and turned over it and passed into the souk.
Here all was noise and movement. Energetic tribesmen strode alongpushing others out of their way—laden donkeys made their way along,their drivers calling out raucously. Balek—balek…Children quarrelled andsquealed and ran after Europeans calling hopefully, Baksheesh, madame,Baksheesh. Meskin-meskin.…
Here the produce of the West and the East were equally for sale side byside. Aluminium32 saucepans, cups and saucers and teapots, hammered cop-perware, silverwork from Amara, cheap watches, enamel33 mugs, embroid-eries and gay patterned rugs from Persia. Brassbound chests from Kuwait,secondhand coats and trousers and children’s woolly cardigans. Localquilted bedcovers, painted glass lamps, stacks of clay water jars and pots.
All the cheap merchandise of civilization together with the nativeproducts.
All as normal and as usual. After his long sojourn35 in the wilder spaces,the bustle36 and confusion seemed strange to Carmichael, but it was all as itshould be, he could detect no jarring note, no sign of interest in his pres-ence. And yet, with the instinct of one who has for some years knownwhat it is to be a hunted man, he felt a growing uneasiness—a vague senseof menace. He could detect nothing amiss. No one had looked at him. Noone, he was almost sure, was following him or keeping him under obser-vation. Yet he had that indefinable certainty of danger.
He turned up a narrow dark turning, again to the right, then to the left.
Here among the small booths, he came to the opening of a khan, hestepped through the doorway37 into the court. Various shops were all roundit. Carmichael went to one where ferwahs were hanging—the sheepskincoats of the north. He stood there handling them tentatively. The owner ofthe store was offering coffee to a customer, a tall bearded man of finepresence who wore green round his tarbush showing him to be a Hajjiwho had been to Mecca.
Carmichael stood there fingering the ferwah.
“Besh hadha?” he asked.
“Seven dinars.”
“Too much.”
The Hajji said, “You will deliver the carpets at my khan?”
“Without fail,” said the merchant. “You start tomorrow?”
“At dawn for Kerbela.”
“It is my city, Kerbela,” said Carmichael. “It is fifteen years now since Ihave seen the Tomb of the Hussein.”
“It is a holy city,” said the Hajji.
The shopkeeper said over his shoulder to Carmichael:
“There are cheaper ferwahs in the inner room.”
“A white ferwah from the north is what I need.”
“I have such a one in the farther room.”
The merchant indicated the door set back in the inner wall.
The ritual had gone according to pattern—a conversation such as mightbe heard any day in any souk—but the sequence was exact—the keywordsall there—Kerbela—white ferwah.
Only, as Carmichael passed to cross the room and enter the inner en-closure, he raised his eyes to the merchant’s face—and knew instantly thatthe face was not the one he expected to see. Though he had seen this par-ticular man only once before, his keen memory was not at fault. Therewas a resemblance, a very close resemblance, but it was not the sameman.
He stopped. He said, his tone one of mild surprise, “Where, then, is Sa-lah Hassan?”
“He was my brother. He died three days ago. His affairs are in myhands.”
Yes, this was probably a brother. The resemblance was very close. Andit was possible that the brother was also employed by the department.
Certainly the responses had been correct. Yet it was with an increasedawareness that Carmichael passed through into the dim inner chamber38.
Here again was merchandise piled on shelves, coffeepots and sugar ham-mers of brass34 and copper39, old Persian silver, heaps of embroideries40, foldedabas, enamelled Damascus trays and coffee sets.
A white ferwah lay carefully folded by itself on a small coffee table. Car-michael went to it and picked it up. Underneath41 it was a set of Europeanclothes, a worn, slightly flashy business suit. The pocketbook with moneyand credentials42 was already in the breast pocket. An unknown Arab hadentered the store, Mr. Walter Williams of Messrs Cross and Co., Importersand Shipping43 Agents would emerge and would keep certain appointmentsmade for him in advance. There was, of course, a real Mr. Walter Williams—it was as careful as that—a man with a respectable open business past.
All according to plan. With a sigh of relief Carmichael started to unbuttonhis ragged army jacket. All was well.
If a revolver had been chosen as the weapon, Carmichael’s missionwould have failed then and there. But there are advantages in a knife—noticeably noiselessness.
On the shelf in front of Carmichael was a big copper coffee pot and thatcoffee pot had been recently polished to the order of an American touristwho was coming in to collect it. The gleam of the knife was reflected inthat shining rounded surface — a whole picture, distorted but apparentwas reflected there. The man slipping through the hangings behind Carmi-chael, the long curved knife he had just pulled from beneath his garments.
In another moment that knife would have been buried in Carmichael’sback.
Like a flash Carmichael wheeled round. With a low flying tackle hebrought the other to the ground. The knife flew across the room. Carmi-chael disentangled himself quickly, leaped over the other’s body, rushedthrough the outer room where he caught a glimpse of the merchant’sstartled malevolent44 face and the placid45 surprise of the fat Hajji. Then hewas out, across the khan, back into the crowded souk, turning first oneway, then another, strolling again now, showing no sings of haste in acountry where to hurry is to appear unusual.
And walking thus, almost aimlessly, stopping to examine a piece of stuff,to feel a texture46, his brain was working with furious activity. The ma-chinery had broken down! Once more he was on his own, in hostile coun-try. And he was disagreeably aware of the significance of what had justhappened.
It was not only the enemies on his trail he had to fear. Nor was it the en-emies guarding the approaches to civilization. There were enemies to fearwithin the system. For the passwords had been known, the responses hadcome pat and correct. The attack had been timed for exactly the momentwhen he had been lulled47 into security. Not surprising, perhaps, that therewas treachery from within. It must have always been the aim of the en-emy to introduce one or more of their own number into the system. Or,perhaps, to buy the man that they needed. Buying a man was easier thanone might think—one could buy with other things than money.
Well, no matter how it had come about, there it was. He was on the run—back on his own resources. Without money, without the help of a newpersonality, and his appearance known. Perhaps at this very moment hewas being quietly followed.
He did not turn his head. Of what use would that be? Those who fol-lowed were not novices48 at the game.
Quietly, aimlessly, he continued to stroll. Behind his listless manner hewas reviewing various possibilities. He came out of the souk at last andcrossed the little bridge over the canal. He walked on until he saw the bigpainted hatchment over the doorway and the legend: British Consulate49.
He looked up the street and down. No one seemed to be paying the leastattention to him. Nothing, it appeared, was easier than just to step into theBritish Consulate. He thought for a moment, of a mousetrap, an openmousetrap with its enticing50 piece of cheese. That, too, was easy and simplefor the mouse….
Well, the risk had to be taken. He didn’t see what else he could do.
He went through the doorway.
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1
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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7
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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8
hazily
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| ad. vaguely, not clear | |
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9
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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11
trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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cordon
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| n.警戒线，哨兵线 | |
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13
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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14
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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15
leakage
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| n.漏，泄漏；泄漏物；漏出量 | |
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16
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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19
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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21
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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scrolled
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| adj.具有涡卷装饰的v.（电脑屏幕上）从上到下移动（资料等），卷页( scroll的过去式和过去分词 )；（似卷轴般）卷起；（像展开卷轴般地）将文字显示于屏幕 | |
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prows
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| n.船首( prow的名词复数 ) | |
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24
lengthen
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| vt.使伸长，延长 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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raucously
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| adv.粗声地；沙哑地 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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29
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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30
hawked
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| 通过叫卖主动兜售（hawk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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31
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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32
aluminium
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| n.铝 (=aluminum) | |
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enamel
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| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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38
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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39
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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40
embroideries
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| 刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 )； 刺绣品； 刺绣法 | |
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41
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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42
credentials
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| n.证明，资格，证明书，证件 | |
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43
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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44
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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45
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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46
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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47
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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48
novices
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| n.新手( novice的名词复数 )；初学修士（或修女）；（修会等的）初学生；尚未赢过大赛的赛马 | |
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49
consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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50
enticing
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| adj.迷人的；诱人的 | |
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