1798, Tunis
The quarter boat pressed against the quay with a harder than usual thud. The English sailors jumped up and lifted out the two sea chests even before Lieutenants Edward Hamilton and James Wray stood up. The baggage was quickly deposited on the quay and within less than a minute the coxswain was yelling for them to shove off. The boat was soon pulling back into the harbor, the six oars working together with expert precision, as it returned to the English frigate
Constance
, leaving Hamilton and Wray standing next to their sea chests.
"I always wanted to come to Tunis," Hamilton said sarcastically.
"Yes, you often spoke of it," Wray answered sarcastically. Then he stopped and looked around. "What in God's name is that smell?"
"Galleys." Hamilton pointed several hundred yards away at a dozen of Corsair raiding galleys. "I don't think they've let the poor wretches off the benches for months."
The harbor was crowded with ships large and small. Most were small feluccas or costal luggers with one or two sails and a fore-and-aft rig, but there were also Spanish xebecs with racked masts, polaccas, and a captured French chasse-marée. The oared ships, both small galliots and larger raiding galleys were pulled up on the beach, while the Ottoman ships built along European lines were anchored off shore. Those naval vessels, sloops, frigates and several small sail of the line, would not have looked out of place with the English fleet at anchor off Spithead.
Hamilton and Wray walked a few yards from the quay, looking around at the bustling street of shops, beggars and street sellers, but staying close to their baggage. Horses in elegant finery were being walked slowly in one direction, as heavy carts were pulled by people in the other. It was a loud, bright, chaotic place and no one seemed to be paying any attention to the two English naval officers in their blue uniforms, white breeches with silk stockings and high, cocked hats.
"I confess, James, I have not the slightest notion as to why a pair of junior lieutenants were sent for this diplomatic mission," Hamilton said, looking at the warships.
"I just hope the factor arrives soon, its bloody hot standing out here," Wray said. He paused as he glanced towards the English frigate that had brought them. "I see Captain Sanders doesn't waste time, the
Constance
is hauling her anchor cables."
Hamilton didn't answer.
"Edward, did you hear me -- oh, my."
Both men watched as a path mysteriously appeared in the crowd as people stepped out of the way to allow a squad of elaborately dressed soldiers to march to the quay. The soldiers wore bright baggy Ottoman style clothes and tall hats which included a narrow band of silk across their face, and each was armed with a large saber, daggers of various sizes and a heavy musket. The soldiers themselves suddenly stepped to one side and stood at attention, making way for women.
There were eight woman, all beautiful and all nearly naked, each positioned to hold the rails of a sedan chair. Each was dressed in a light silk wrapping that covered her hips and nothing else, as well as a wooden mask, curiously unadorned compared to the complexity of the styling on the chair. The eight women came to a halt a few yards from the naval officers and slowly lowered the chair to the ground.
"The heat be damned, Edward, I think I'm going to like it here," Wray muttered. Hamilton stifled a laugh.
The sedan chair opened and a short, plump man in European dress stepped out. He reached back inside and plucked out a tricorne hat which he pressed firmly to his head.
"Ah, gentleman! Fine, yes, very fine to meet you!" the plump man said, in deeply accented English.
"Thank you, sir. I am Lieutenant Edward Hamilton and this is Lieutenant James Wray of His Britannic Majesty's service." Hamilton took off his hat and did a partial bow. Wray did the same.
"Ah, of course, yes, yes! I am Nadim bin Bekir and I am here to welcome you to Tunis."
"I see," Hamilton replied, slowly. "Are you acquainted with the English factor?"
"Oh dear sir, I am the English factor!" The plump man laughed. He leaned in and stage whispered, "My real name is Pieter Van Schoonhoven. It makes it easier to deal with the Pasha-Bey of Tunis, if I adopt the local customs. Yes? You see my situation, hm?"
"I understand, sir," Hamilton said, glancing at the naked women standing quietly next to the rails of the sedan chair.
"Oh that," Van Schoonhoven looked at the women and leered. "The very generous and wise Massih Bey has granted me access to some of his unique and well trained staff."
"Slaves."
"Of course! Can you blame him. And yes, he has quite a fondness for women of beauty and charm. Oh yes, as I am sure you can see, gentleman, he has very excellent taste."
"You're one of the King's Germans?" Wray said, his attention still on the topless slaves.
"I am Dutch, sir! Circumstances have been kind! I am the English representative to the Pasha-Bey of Tunis," Van Schoonhoven then laughed. "You enjoy the sights in Tunis, Lieutenant, yes? Perhaps you would wish to take my position so that I might make a welcome return to Amsterdam."
"I fear I must decline that honor, sir," Wray said.
Van Schoonhoven laughed, then said more seriously, "if you also fear for my loyalty to your King, gentleman, then remember the Jacobins have taken over my country, yes? I would be greatly obliged if they were driven back to Paris and my country made free."
"I did not mean --"
Hamilton held up his hand, "When do we meet Masin Bey?"
"Well," Van Schoonhoven said with a sigh. "The most illustrious Masin Bey? Oh, my dear sir, we will most likely never see him."
"I am confused, sir," Hamilton said. "Our mission is to assist the Bey of Tunis in the development of a more modern naval force to prosecute the war against France from these waters."
Van Schoonhoven laughed. He reached over and put his arm around Hamilton and leaned in. "Your mission, Lieutenant is to keep Masin Bey occupied with his various projects, yes, so that his attentions do not turn to Jacobins. You understand then? Yes? Masin Bey is easily distracted, so easily distracted! Unlike his brother, I should say, the Pasha-Bey who is the true ruler of this land."
The English officers looked confused.
"Have you forgotten, sirs, that Bonaparte is in Egypt? Consider the havoc he caused in Italy! Oh yes, yes, yes, I am quite aware of how your valiant Nelson cut down his fleet. Such bravery! And yet, still, that Jacobin army remains close enough to this charming hellhole be a concern. You see my meaning, gentleman? The Pasha-Bey knows that England is where he should seek support, yes? But he is also old. Should the will of heaven taken him from this life and Masin Bey rise in his place, well, I think you see the problem!"
"If Masin Bey takes the throne he might swing this place to France?" Wray asked.
"Indeed, sir! We must make that unlikely."
"I have my orders from the Admiralty, sir," Hamilton said. "But...considering... as you are the English representative I will take your views into account."
"Excellent! Now, good sirs, let me have your baggage sent to the palace." Van Schoonhoven turned to the leading soldier. He spoke a short word in Turkish. The soldiers nodded and as the officers looked closer they could glimpse their faces through the thin silk draped in front.
The soldiers were women.
"I am Nasira bint Evranaki," the one leading the squad said, in English with far less accent than the Dutchman.
"I see. I wasn't aware... that..." Hamilton stammered. He looked at Wray who just shrugged.
"Another special detachment courtesy of Masin Bey," Van Schoonhoven explained. "These are the Kocek Kapikulu of the Janissary corps, yes, and they are quite serious as warriors. Make no mistake of that gentleman! Yes, yes, quite serious!"
Nasira ordered four of the topless slaves by the sedan chair to come forward and take the two sea chests. The others lifted the chair, now much lighter without the Dutchman inside, and followed the female soldiers as they moved back into the city.
Van Schoonhoven lead the two officers in a slightly different direction, down narrow streets, some crowded and some not, and into a low open courtyard bounded by colonnades. There were several groups of men inside, all looking over a row of twenty women connected by chains. The women had torn clothes at best and huddled together in a ragged line.
"The fruits of Masin Bey's fleet of galleys," Van Schoonhoven said as he gazed upon the women, all young and attractive. "As you can see he has a particular taste, yes? And these specimens are gentleman, oh my, yes, these pretty ones are those he rejected. They are now for public auction."
"This is monstrous!" Wray said.
Van Schoonhoven snorted. "And your countrymen grab innocent men from the streets, yes? Drag them away from their families off to serve on your ships, hm?"
"That, sir, is in the service of His Britannic Majesty. We are at war."
"And the triangle trade, sir? That is also in the service of the king?"
Wray fumed and turned away. Van Schoonhoven laughed.
"Why did you bring us here?" Hamilton asked.
"I want you to know what sort of man you are dealing with. Masin Bey surrounds himself with female slaves, yes? He has some from the far eastern orient and the wilds of Portuguese Brazil. He uses these slaves for all functions, well beyond their obvious uses, I must say." Van Schoonhoven walked over to one of the women, a petite dark haired beauty. He reached out and cupped her breasts. She froze but did not resist. "To maintain his interests in line with ours I suggest you keep all this in mind. These particular slaves are French. Note that it would be useful if Massih Bey continues to harass the enemies of His Britannic Majesty."
One of the men pointed to a lithe, dark haired woman and a guard released her from the chains. She was pushed over to a group of men who began to press their hands on her breasts and ass. They pried open her mouth and inspected her cunt. The man who pointed suddenly turned and a guard took hold of the terrified slave by the hair and dragged her along after him. She screamed, but no one took notice.
"Sampling the wares, I dare say, yes?" Van Schoonhoven said. "You gentleman are, of course, well within your rights to purchase a slave or two for your enjoyment."
There was a pause and then Hamilton said, "We should proceed to our destination, sir."
The Dutchman lead them out of the slave market and down a series of crowded streets, many covered by awnings and seemingly always walking against a tide of humans and animals.
