Hashish: A Smuggler's Tale (23 page)

I was perishing with cold, I shivered violently and my teeth were chattering, but I did my best to paddle. At last the sea grew a little calmer as we approached the end of the roads. After wandering about a bit, we made out the sea-wall, which the town lights in the background made even more difficult to see. I rounded the end of it a good distance away. One man paddled while Ali Omar and I lay flat peering over the side trying to make out the form of a sentinel on the black reptile. When we were a hundred yards from it and directly opposite the point where Djebeli should be waiting, we advanced at right angles. Thus we were only a pin-point on the water, but even that seemed to me too much.

Suddenly we saw a little red glow giving intermittent flickers in the shadow of the wall. It looked like a lighted cigarette, and I guessed it was Djebeli. We advanced more quickly, for the light seemed to beckon to us. When we were twenty yards from the wall, a white form rose up, and I recognized the
guellabia
of Djebeli. Without a word we handed over the rubber bags. He pointed to the end of the jetty and whispered rapidly:

‘Be careful, there is an askari there. Go right out and don’t answer if you are hailed. It doesn’t matter about me, I know him.’

But no voice came out of the darkness, and at one o’clock in the morning I was back on my
boutre
. Abdi was not there. His absence completely spoiled any pleasure I felt at the success of this first attempt to deliver my cargo. When I thought that in a swift
pirogue
we had taken three hours to cover the distance, I wondered what the poor fellow would do, with only his own strength to rely on. Not one of the crew was able to sleep; we all anxiously watched this black water and stared into the darkness, lit up intermittently by red and green flashes of light from the fire-buoys. Big steamers passed, going into and coming out of the canal, swift launches set us rocking at their passage, but though the wind fell as dawn approached, the sea did not give up Abdi.

Even my coffee had a bitter taste, and the splendour of the rising sun, which spread a carpet of gold and rose over mountains and desert, seemed a cruel mockery, jeering at the pain and sadness in my heart. The sun was now entirely above the horizon, and the sea stretched calm and shining, without the slightest ripple to break its surface, much less anything that might be the head of a swimmer. All the same, I could not believe that Abdi had met such a stupid death. Abdi drowned! It was too absurd. He had once stayed in the water for fifty-six hours, and had not seemed to find that very extraordinary. We kept cheering each other up by pointing out how likely it was that he would reappear, and the various daily occupations on board and the busy life in the roads took our minds off our anxiety.

I told myself firmly that until the following evening there was no need to begin worrying, and I let it go at that. But that did not prevent my mind from being pervaded by a horrible depression and haunting fear of disaster. When I went to take my siesta I could not sleep, and lay gloomily staring away over the desert quivering with heat, which stretched to the south on the Asiatic shore. It was there, on these monotonous beaches which began opposite us and stretched far beyond the horizon on the other side of the canal, that Abdi had left us the night before. Suddenly I saw a black dot standing out against the yellow sand. I dashed for my glasses. It was difficult to see in the shimmering heat which distorted everything, but I finally made out the silhouette of a man. It was Abdi; I was sure of it. It was impossible to identify him, but something told me it was he. An hour later I could see that I was right. He walked along the shore, stooped, stopped, ran after crabs like a man collecting bait, then when he was on the other side of the canal, opposite us, he glided slowly into the water. From time to time, his head emerged above the surface, then he dived again. A quarter of an hour later he was alongside.

‘It’s quite simple,’ he explained; ‘I couldn’t swim against the wind when you left me, or rather I didn’t want to. I preferred to go ashore and come to Suez on foot. But as I walked along I met three men going
south. I lay down in the water until they had passed, then I amused myself by following them at some distance, guided by their footprints. They had not seen me. They stopped at the iron barrel, turned up the sand all round it, pulled it out, turned it upside down, then went on towards the south.’

Abdi agreed with me that our sacks had been discovered by the man whose footprints we had seen, but that he had not been able at that moment to carry off the merchandise, so, thinking it was a safe hiding-place, he had left them where they were and come back later with friends. We had preceded them by two short hours. Abdi had lain down behind a sand dune and watched till dawn, but nobody had come back; the three would-be thieves had remained in the south.

I was far from easy in my mind. What if these charming persons hunted about until they found where I had hidden my cargo? I trembled for my cases, for once their existence was suspected, it would be child’s play to find them. All anybody would have to do would be to plunge an iron rod into the sand. In this way they could go over vast stretches in very little time, for the field of investigation was not so great. Only the sandy parts were possible as hiding-places, and there were not many of them. I was thoroughly upset, and wanted to be off at once, but we were in a harbour; we should have to go through a host of formalities before we could leave, and this sudden departure would seem very odd. I thought it best to consult Stavro on what was to be done. He was the only person who could help me. I had to go to his house anyhow that evening to settle up for the hashish already delivered, so I could tell him of my fears.

After dinner I went to Suez. I took Abdi and Ali Omar with me, so that they would know where Stavro’s house was. They followed some distance behind me. The summer twilight lingered in the streets of the native quarter. The heat of the day breathed out from the walls and ground like an immense sigh of relief. The dim light faded softly into night; it was the daily truce from the burning heat of the sun. The street which ended in the sea was deserted as far as passers-by were concerned, but it was buzzing with popular life. The lofty many-storied houses showed twinkling lights at their countless windows, behind the climbing plants and the lattices of the wooden balconies. A vague rumour rose into the air, composed of the clattering of dishes, jazz tunes from gramophones,
crying children, scolding women, laughter, the coughing of an invalid, the buzzing of a sewing-machine, in a word, the vast symphony, not always harmonious, of a working-class population in shirt-sleeves and slippers, pleased to be home after the day’s work.

A woman’s silhouette appeared on a balcony, and with a graceful gesture threw down a package of rubbish into the street, where it scattered in a musical tinkle of broken glass. At every doorway were men sitting smoking blissfully, astride chairs, inhaling the warm air in which floated a smell of stagnant water. As I got near the end of the street the animation decreased, until it died away completely, leaving the end house deserted, standing tall and silent before the sleeping water of the lagoon. I turned into the side-street and was abruptly swallowed up by its shadows. The same woman with the black handkerchief on her head came to let me in. This time her welcoming smile was almost gay, and she led me at once into the room where the icon kept watch. She addressed me in Greek, then, laughing when she saw I did not understand, she told me in Arabic that Stavro was absent, but would be in presently. My two men were left squatting in the passage.

At last the master of the house arrived. He looked even bigger than before. What a magnificent-looking brigand! He swept off his felt hat with a dramatic gesture, and greeted me in jovial tones. He called his sister-in-law in a terrible ogre’s voice, but she came tranquilly along like one well accustomed to such thunders. Stavro held out to her a tiny package wrapped in tissue paper, which had been completely hidden in his large hand. It contained two little candles as big as my finger which he had bought for the altar of the icon.

I told him Abdi’s story of the men he had seen during the night near our hiding-place. He shook his head as if he were reflecting deeply, but I had the impression that he was embarrassed rather than perplexed.

‘I don’t think there’s much to worry about,’ I said. ‘I expect you know who they were, and I am surprised they haven’t already reported the result of their investigations, like those in the
boutre.’

‘Whatever do you mean? Do you think I would be such an ass as to risk having our deal fall through, for the pleasure of double-crossing you? In our business one must be honest and able to give one’s entire and unreserved confidence. Ordinary trading is made up of mutual trickery. The good tradesman is the one who is the most skilful at taking in or
in interpreting the terms of a contract to his own advantage, without overstepping the legal limit, playing the game of commercial struggle for which laws were invented.

‘In our case it is quite different. We are outside the law. The only rule in our game is loyalty to one’s given word. Take my word for it, when men feel the necessity for writing down their bargains it is because later on they want to be able to ease their consciences by putting their iniquities down to the score of what is in the contract. Don’t make the mistake of confusing smugglers with those who get their living out of smuggling. I sent away Alexandros because he belongs more or less to the latter category. He’s not a bad fellow, but just a weak-kneed creature who would die of hunger if we did not give him a few crumbs to pick up. Only he lives in this dubious society you have seen adorning the terraces of the cafés. Sometimes we need these wastrels, but we have to be very prudent about how we use them.’

‘I quite agree with you, and I did not mean, and I have never even thought, that you could play me false. But why don’t you tell me what you think about those men prowling round in the dark? You seem to find it quite natural.’

‘Yes, you ran a terrible risk, for if they had found your cargo, what could you have done? Thank your stars you only lost two
okes.
I’m afraid the place where you have hidden the rest of the goods is not so safe as you thought.’

I couldn’t help thinking that this man had been trying to find where my treasure was, and that perhaps at this moment he knew my secret. I said, smiling:

‘Why don’t you tell me frankly that the two
okes
were brought to you this morning?’

‘Had you appointed me guardian of your merchandise or given it to me to put away in a safe place?’

‘No, but I came to deal with you for the selling of it.’

‘After asking advice from the electricians in the canal. One of them told me how you had spoken to him about your plans. So all that concerns me is to pay for what you bring me.’

I was furious, and had some trouble in hiding my discomfiture. It was true, I had acted foolishly; I could not but admit the justice of the logic of this man who was defending his own interests by taking advantage of
my weakness. I felt that he would be relentless and that I should have to go very warily.

‘I see’, I replied, trying to keep my smile unchanged, ‘that in your – I mean, our business, there are rules by which one must abide. Thank you for the lesson, and now pay what you owe me, for I must be going; I did not sleep so well as you last night…’

My smile must have been a pretty wry one, for Stavro observed me mockingly, then said in a friendly tone:

‘Don’t be angry; what’s the use? You were wrong to accuse me of double dealing. If I had been a twister I could have got all your cargo yesterday without having to pay a cent. I should simply have played on your fear of the sentinel. As you may suppose, he had been paid to let you come near. Djebeli knows him, and an occasional thaler keeps friendship warm. We could easily have staged a sham seizure of your sacks as you were handing them over to Djebeli. You would have fled, only too thankful to get off so cheaply with nothing but the loss of your hashish. But that would have been a robbery, since you had confidence in me. Only don’t forget that all the lazy dogs who live from smuggling would not hesitate to use such methods, or even to do away with you if they could do it without risk.’

More and more I felt that I was in this fellow’s hands. I felt the complicated netting of this cunning snare into which I had put my head closing round me. I felt like the little fish in the fable which struggled in vain to free itself, and to whom the fisherman consolingly said: ‘No matter what you do, you’ll be fried this evening.’

‘I’m not angry’, I said after a few moments of silence; ‘I have no reason to be, we are talking and you are teaching me many things, and since you are so wise in this game, tell me frankly what should I do?’

I felt ruefully that this question was an admission of weakness and would give him the advantage over me. But since I could not have the upper hand even in appearance, it was better to go to extremes in the other direction, and let him think that I capitulated unconditionally. This would flatter his vanity, and when a man is flattered he can be more easily led to commit blunders. In such conflicts, when all seems lost, the thing is to gain time and lull the enemy into satisfaction over his victory. During this interlude one sometimes manages to hit on a means to turn the tables.

Stavro assumed a thoughtful air, and hummed and hawed like a doctor
with a puzzling case, to conceal his satisfaction in having me at his mercy. Then, stroking his moustache, he said: