understand!â
Scander paused, then, visibly bracing himself, he plunged on. âNext thing I knew, Captain flung open the door. âAt them! âhe yelled. âEvery one of them-in the name of Allah!â
âRuth cried out in the horrified stillness, and âYou mean-in cold blood?â stammered Ferdinand.
âDid you . . . too?â someone gasped.
âHowâd you suppose I know what I did in that hellâs shambles?â he burst out. âOnly thing I can remember is watching swords and knives, all red and dripping to their hilts, slipping in and out among those shiny, brown bodies just as their hands had been slipping in and out of the spices!â
A shudder ran through his listeners, but, apparently unmoved, Scander went on as if he were reciting by rote. âThey killed, and they killed, and they killed,â he deliberately pronounced. âThen I felt my head swim. I tried to get to the door-slipped-went down-â His voice broke, and he put his hand hastily over his mouth. âIt was all warm and slimy down there-blood and spice mixed up together-â
âGo on,â Abel hastily interposed. âGet to the rest of it.â
âI promised myself,â the sailor said slowly, âIâd never go over this, but seeing you all so keen on this spice business-these young chaps in particular-I thought you ought to hear the other side.â He clutched his throat and swallowed hard. âThat smell of warm blood and spice makes my stomach heave yet!â
âHow about the spice merchant? Ever see him?â Nicolo inquired.
Scander ran his tongue around his lips before he answered. âTâll cnmp to him in a minute. TCv the time weâd got through witn me sorting snea, we coma near a terrmie commotion all over the place and we could see the warehouse afire. âHereâs my chance to warn the Franjiâ thinks I, and I made a rush for the house, when-down jumps Captain from a wall behind me! âCome on/says he, âyouâre the man I want/and he drove me in front of him with that red, dripping blade of his at my back. I knew, then, he suspected what I had in mind.
âThe moment we reached the house, we saw that others had been there before us. The place looked like the tail end of a typhoon; everything upside down, cupboards open, clothes scattered around. âWhere is he?â Captain kept asking. âWhereâs the Franji?â We looked around for a while, and then, as we went into the court, we saw something on the stairs that led to the roof â something all huddled together. âGo on up,â Captain orders me, âtill we make sure,â and he made me stand by whilst he jabbed at it with his foot-curse him. âTwas a man with his arms around a woman, and a sword right through the two of them-the spice merchant and his wife. You could tell from his features that he was a Franji. She was an Arab; a real queen, poor creature, with long, black braids and big, dark eyes and slender hands.
âWell â thatâs about all,â he ended, sombrely. âI stayed right by Captain, took his orders, and went back to the ship with him, quiet as a lamb. But Iâd had enough. A night or two after, when we were to leave Aden first thing in the morning, I slipped over the side, got ashore, and shipped with a big slave vessel bound for Egypt.â
There was a brevity in this winding up of the story that struck everyone with a feeling of something omitted.
Diaz drew a long breath. âYou never heard any more of the Franj ship, I suppose?â
âNever a word, sir.â
âDid your captain try to follow you?â asked Nicolo.
âIf he did, I never got wind of it. From the minute I quit him I was right on my way, and I never stopped till I saw Alexandria and knew I was in western waters. I wanted to get as far as I could from spice! And here Iâve stuck my nose right into the