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‘Oh my God, Miss, I… I’m so sorry, I… was supposed to tell Mr Linton, and you… well, and I… Oh God!’
He shot me a pleading glance. I took pity on him.
‘Tell the captain I will be along directly,’ I told him, curtsying. ‘And tell him I will be only too happy to try one of his Virginia Cigars. I look forward to the experience.’
*~*~**~*~*
Have you ever seen the face of a sturdy, conservative ship captain watching a nineteen-year-old girl smoking cigars? No? And have you ever watched the twitching jaw muscles of a financial magnate sitting in the same room, staring so coldly at your cigar that by rights it should be extinguished and frozen? You haven’t done that either? Well, then you haven’t lived.
It wasn’t just this evening that was quite amusing. The rest of the journey to Egypt in its entirety turned out to be rather entertaining, and all thanks to my new attire. True, the skirts were a bit draughty outside, but the sailors’ faces as they tried to puzzle out the mysterious transformation of Mr Victor Linton more than made up for it. As did the look on Mr Ambrose’s face whenever he caught his men staring at me.
‘Land ahoy!’
The cry from the ship’s highest mast came out of the blue. I was down in my cabin, and only heard it by luck because the engines were, for once, running at low steam to allow the men a chance to sleep. It took me about four and a half seconds to race up on deck.
‘Where is it?’ I demanded, materializing beside Mr Ambrose at the bow. ‘Where is it, where is it?’
‘Not in sight yet, from down here,’ was his cool reply. ‘If you want to climb up the mast in that dress, be my guest.’
‘When will it be in sight? When?’
‘I possess no accurate information on the matter.’
‘Oh my God… I’m going to see Alexandria with my own eyes! Alexandria!’
‘Yes.’
‘And the pyramids? Do you think we could visit the pyramids?’
‘I hardly think that the bandits we are looking for have their hideout in an ancient pharaonic tomb.’
‘Not to look for bandits, of course! Just to see the pyramids!’
‘What purpose would that serve?’
‘It’s sightseeing! It isn’t supposed to serve a purpose, you do it because you want to soak up the atmosphere of a long forgotten and mysterious ancient world!’
‘I am quite content with concentrating on the contemporary one.’
Despairing of the discussion, I leaned over the railing to peer more closely into the distance. And yes, through the morning haze, I could see something there. Or at least I thought I could. Maybe I couldn’t. But then again, maybe…
It didn’t take long for my indecision to become certainty. And then, it slowly morphed into awe.
‘The Port of Alexandria,’ I heard Mr Ambrose voice from my right. And I was so stunned by the sight before me that I wasn’t even astounded about him voluntary unclamping his lips to offer information. ‘One of the oldest ports in the world, maybe the oldest. The first facilities were probably built over four thousand years ago. There, do you see that stretch of land?’
‘Yes,’ I muttered, and indeed, I could see it. It was a faint golden line on the horizon. And behind it… No. That couldn’t be ships behind the land, could they? Unless the Egyptians had decided to take the expression ‘ship of the desert’ to a whole new level.
‘That’s a peninsula,’ Mr Ambrose explained as if having read my mind. ‘It stretches out into the ocean, and then in a T-shape to both sides, protecting the harbour against the elements.’
I threw him a look. ‘You’re unusually chatty this morning, Sir.’
He caught my look easily, and hurled it back with double force. ‘It’s always best to know as much as possible about your surroundings when you’re venturing into enemy territory. And make no mistake - this is enemy territory. Dalgliesh has a lot of influence here. We’re not on a sightseeing trip.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Once we land, if you possibly can, try to deport yourself like a proper lady.’
‘I always do!’
