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  She, however, could see Britan driving away and she waved rather wistfully after him.

  As he did so, she felt that she was losing her last contact with the civilised world she knew.

  She opened the porthole wider to let in some fresh air and by standing on tiptoe and poking her head out she had a better view of the quay than she had before.

  Now she could just glimpse the gangway that she had aboard on and she recognised that it was to be used only by the passengers.

  There was another gangway further along the ship’s side for those working on board.

  Time went by and then she was aware that carriages were arriving and she was sure that some of them would contain Lady Beecham’s friends.

  They had doubtless come to see Father Christopher off and give him what money they had already collected for him

  It was a considerable relief to her when she was certain that he was aboard the cargo ship.

  She had a sudden fear that, despite the fact that his cabin was booked, he might change his plans at the last moment in which case she knew that she would be too frightened to go on alone.

  Another carriage then arrived at the quay and now she could see Father Christopher getting out of it.

  He was accompanied by another man who was wearing a cassock.

  He did not look as if he was a traveller and Sadira thought that he must be another Missionary seeing Father Christopher off.

  As soon as Father Christopher appeared, the ladies waiting for him climbed out of their carriages.

  They clustered around him and Sadira could see that they were all giving him small parcels and envelopes.

  Then she was aware that two of the ladies carried wicker baskets on their arms and it struck her that perhaps she should have brought some food with her.

  She thought that it was very foolish of her not to think of it before, but her mind had been so cluttered with all her plans.

  Finally, after a great deal of conversation, Father Christopher started to climb up the gangway.

  He had said ‘goodbye’ to most of the ladies and then two who were laden with his gifts climbed up the gangplank after him.

  Now Sadira could not see him, but a few minutes later she heard his deep voice and the high-pitched chattering of the ladies’ voices.

  They were in the cabin next to hers and she could hear quite clearly what they were all saying and so she realised that there was only a thin partition between them.

  “I hope we have thought of everything that you will need, Father,” one of the ladies remarked.

  “You have been more than kind,” Father Christopher replied, “and I am very grateful indeed for all you have given me, especially the money, which will be used for those who most need it in Morocco.”

  “We shall all be thinking of you, Father, and collecting more money, which we will send to you through the British Embassy.”

  “God will bless you for your generosity,” Father Christopher sighed.

  There was more chatter and then Sadira heard a voice calling out,

  “All ashore! All ashore!”

  “We must go,” one of the ladies cried. “Goodbye, dear Father, and remember us in your prayers.”

  “You may be quite certain that I will,” Father Christopher promised.

  He said ‘goodbye’ a dozen more times before Sadira heard the ladies hurrying away and she thought that Father Christopher had followed them.

  She heard the engines start up and a few minutes later the cargo ship began to move.

  Looking out of the porthole, Sadira could see the ladies waving their handkerchiefs and she guessed that Father Christopher would be waving back to them from the deck.

  The ship increased its speed and the quay was now out of sight and Sadira went back to sit on the side of one of the bunks.

  Now that she was actually leaving England, she was feeling really frightened.

  Suppose Father Christopher refused to take her and put her ashore before they reached the open sea. She was not at all certain how he could do it, but it was certainly a possibility in her mind.

  So she decided that it would be wise not to reveal her presence until it was impossible for him to send her home.

  She then heard him go into his cabin and close the door behind him.

  She made up her bunk with the clean unused blankets that Britan had so cleverly found for her and she took off her jacket and hung the cape that she had brought with her on a hook on the wall.

  Although it was hot at the moment, she thought that perhaps when they reached the Bay of Biscay it might be cold.

  She had therefore brought a travelling cape with her that had belonged to her mother and was lined with fur.

  She had packed only her plainest clothes, but the cape was an exception as she thought that it would be a mistake to shiver.

  The ship had now reached the Straits of Dover and was beginning to pitch a little.

  Sadira lay down on her bunk and she put her head, as Britan had suggested, on a rolled-up blanket and to her surprise it was really quite comfortable.

  She decided to wait for at least an hour before she went to see Father Christopher and she was actually rather intimidated at doing so.

  He might be angry with her and he might, when they reached Tangier, insist on sending her back on the next ship going to England.

  Then she remembered that he had no jurisdiction over her and what was more she had the money that she had taken from her father’s safe.

  ‘I must be very careful that it is not stolen from me,’ she thought and then trembled a little.

  It was no use, she ruminated in pretending even to herself that everything did not depend on Father Christopher.

  She had met him only once, but now she was asking him to take her under his protection.

  ‘Please – please, God, make him look – after me,’ she prayed fervently.

  chapter six

  Sadira was tired by the time they reached Fez, which was not surprising.

  She expected to have a quiet time on The Idris as long as Father Christopher accepted her as being there.

  He had been, when she first approached him, very surprised.

  But he accepted without argument her decision to leave home and Sadira thought that it was wonderful of him, especially when he said,

  “You have come as my student and that is what you must be. If you have to look after yourself, you will be safer with Missionaries like me and working with them.”

  “That is exactly what I want,” Sadira answered, “and thank you, Father, thank you for being so understanding.”

  “I don’t say that I approve,” Father Christopher replied, “but we all have to live our own lives and, if it is God’s will, then you will succeed in all that you have undertaken.”

  As his student, Sadira was astonished to find how much there was to do.

  Father Christopher was the only one with any medical knowledge aboard the ship and he was busy, Sadira found, from first thing in the morning until last thing at night.

  The men who had carried the heavy cargo of wood on board the ship had injured their hands, their shoulders and their feet. And they all asked for treatment from the good Father.

  Then, before they had sailed very far into the Bay of Biscay, there was a violent storm with endless lightning and deafening thunder.

  One seaman broke an arm, another his leg and there were many with painful bruising from the violent rocking of the ship.

  Father Christopher tended them all very skilfully and patiently.

  Sadira had to help him with bandaging and the plaster, which fortunately he had brought with him.

  In fact one large trunk was filled to the brim with nothing but medical supplies, which Father Christopher was taking to Fez and quite a lot of these had to be used on the voyage.

  By the time they sailed into the Port of Tangier, Sadira was priding herself on becoming quite expert at nursing.

  Father Christopher was eag
er to reach Fez as quickly as possible to discover why they needed him so much.

  He therefore hired horses rather than mules and they set off from Tangier with a caravan of Arabs to assist them and indeed protect them on the long journey South.

  The horses carried small tents that Sadira and Father Christopher could sleep in at night and it fascinated her how quickly the tents could be erected and dismantled by a coordinated team.

  The countryside that they were passing through was not of any particular interest and she was glad that they did not have to stay in any of the small towns and villages that they passed through.

  The ground at first was parched and cracked.

  A few hawks swayed lazily in the sky and once or twice they disturbed a brilliantly coloured goldfinch.

  Then they rode over marshy plains and later past a few forests of cork trees.

  It took them all of eight days to reach Fez.

  Before they arrived in the City, Father Christopher told Sadira that it had been built in about A.D. 800 and so was very ancient.

  “Fez the devout,” he said, “is one of the most revered religious centres of the Muslim world, but it is not now as powerful as it had been in the past. Today far too many people live there. In fact there are nearly two hundred thousand inhabitants in the Old City alone.”

  Sadira did not envisage quite what that really meant until they reached the City of Fez.

  Late in the evening they descended the steep, narrow and sunless passages that were not really worthy of being called streets.

  They passed the Quarawiyin Mosque, which she was told could accommodate twenty-two thousand worshippers but only Muslims were admitted.

  Then, at last, when it was almost too dark to see the way, they stopped in a tiny square.

  The houses around the square looked rough and in desperate need of repair.

  Sadira could not believe that they were going to stay there, but then Father Christopher informed her with a sigh of satisfaction,

  “We have arrived!”

  As he spoke, the door of one house opened and a stream of people came running out.

  They were waving their hands in welcome and talking at the tops of their voices.

  During the voyage in The Idris Sadira had learned a little Arabic both from Father Christopher and from his patients.

  She was suddenly aware that the people were all thanking God that he had reached them safely and she felt that they were clearly expecting him to solve all their problems whatever they might be.

  They had ridden all day with hardly a stop for anything to eat and, as Sadira dismounted, she thought that the only thing she really needed at this stage was a bed to sleep in.

  She had, however, first to partake of a large meal that had been specially prepared for Father Christopher.

  The people had been making ready for him for whatever day he arrived and they never stopped talking for a single moment.

  She learned later that they were all Christians and it was because they were having a difficult time with the local Muslims that they were so eager for Father Christopher to join them.

  The house, built mostly of wood, was very primitive and, as she might have expected, they all sat on the floor with the food spread out in front of them.

  The main dish was couscous, made with a kind of semolina and topped with a savoury stew, which was surprisingly palatable.

  Sadira also liked the almond and honey cakes that were always served, she learned, at a meal in Morocco.

  She had, since arriving at Tangier, become accustomed to eating with her fingers and she was told that the Moroccans believed that to use cutlery of any sort was a very dirty way of eating.

  After the meal was over, she was able to climb up the rickety staircase and she was shown into a small rather airless room where there was a divan raised about six inches from the floor. And there was a deep and comfortable mattress lying on top of it.

  She was feeling far too tired to take anything out of her bags except for her nightgown.

  Her last thought before she lay down was that in this strange rabbit-warren-like City there would be a great number of injured or sick people.

  They would all be in need of Father Christopher’s skills and tomorrow and all the days that followed were likely to be very busy and hectic.

  Below Father Christopher was being plied with questions as to why he had brought an English girl with him.

  “She is my disciple,” he stipulated firmly and refused to add any further information.

  *

  Outside the Old City of Fez in the impressive and luxurious Palace of the Sultan, the Earl had been waiting impatiently for nearly a week.

  When he left Tilbury, he was convinced that he knew where Sadira had gone.

  He had returned to Kensall House in his carriage and there he sent for his secretary, Mr. Barrett.

  He informed him that he was leaving England at once in his yacht, which was at that time anchored in Dover Harbour.

  Mr. Barrett was appalled.

  “But how can you do so, my Lord?” he asked. “You have a great number of important engagements, two with His Royal Highness and the Prime Minister is expecting you at a Conference he is holding on Thursday.”

  He paused and then continued,

  “And there are also the parties that you have arranged for your relatives to meet Lady Sadira.”

  “I know that, Barrett,” the Earl agreed, “and you will somehow have to cover up for me.”

  He paused as if in deep thought and then continued,

  “Tell His Royal Highness and the Prime Minister that I am visiting a relative who is dying and then inform my relatives that the Prime Minister has sent me abroad on an urgent mission.”

  He paused again and then resumed,

  “In fact I am leaving for Morocco as soon as I can reach The Mermaid.”

  This was the name of the Earl’s yacht and it was always expected to be in readiness for him to leave England at short notice.

  He had, however, not used The Mermaid for at least three months and Mr. Barrett was told to send a warning to the Captain of his Master’s imminent arrival at Dover.

  He was also given the task of saving Sadira’s horse, Swallow, and her dog, Bracken.

  The Earl told him to arrange for Swallow to be removed from the stables of Langbourne Hall together with Bracken and have them taken at once to Kensall Park.

  Leaving Mr. Barrett gasping with the number of his orders, he ran upstairs to supervise his packing.

  Hopkins, his valet, was used to his Master making quick decisions and then expecting them to be carried out at the double.

  He had been an excellent Batman to the Earl in the Army and this had taught him how to cope with any emergency with considerable dexterity.

  His duties had involved a good deal of travelling on the Continent and in other parts of the world.

  And now he was delighted at the opportunity of getting away from the humdrum routine in England.

  Even by the Earl’s standards it seemed as if his luggage was packed and ready with the wave of a magic wand and he drove off in his four-in-hand towards the coast with Hopkins sitting behind him.

  All of this was thanks to Mr. Barrett’s efficient organisation in anticipating the Earl’s requirements even before he had thought of them himself.

  The Mermaid had been alerted in good time and the yacht moved out of Dover Harbour the minute the Earl stepped aboard.

  As he shortly went up onto the bridge to be with the Captain, the Earl felt glad to be leaving London behind.

  For the moment he would be no longer be worried by the problems created by the Marchioness and, of course, there would be the Marquis’s distress when he could not find Sadira.

  ‘How can she have thought of anything so outrageous as disappearing completely!’ the Earl asked himself.

  At the same time he could not help admiring her courage in taking the initiative and he could easily understand her violen
t revulsion against a situation that was clearly so abhorrent to her.

  He knew, if he was honest, that it was the sort of thing that he would have done himself.

  It seemed extraordinary, however, that one small, rather fragile-looking girl could run away.

  Could she really believe that she could live her life on her own without anybody trying to find her?

  ‘It’s a crazy idea!’ the Earl said to himself scornfully and yet he could not help thinking that it was a very brave one.

  The Bay of Biscay proved to be just as uncomfortable for The Mermaid as it had been for The Idris.

  Sadira had not been seasick and, as there had been so many casualties, she had been too busy to think about herself.

  Just the same happened on The Mermaid.

  Three seamen were injured during a vicious storm and the Earl took the Captain’s place on the bridge while he attended to them.

  He was not as skilful as Father Christopher, but the three of them were hobbling about a few days later.

  Having learnt from the Officials at Tilbury that The Idris was going to Tangier, the Earl decided to put into the Port of Rabat on the Atlantic coast of Morocco.

  It was a little nearer to Fez than the other alternative Ports and it took him only six days to reach the outskirts of the City.

  He was fortunate in finding two good horses for himself and his valet from a local horse dealer, but his luggage had to be carried by mules and this caused them to slow down more than he would have wished.

  However, when he finally arrived in Fez, he went straight to the Sultan’s Palace.

  He had stayed with the Sultan on a previous visit some four years earlier and he had also entertained the Sultan when he visited London.

  He therefore knew that he would be welcome and he had instructed Mr. Barrett to advise the Moroccan Embassy in London of his intention and to be in touch with the Sultan.

  He learnt on arrival that they had sent a Courier overland to inform the Sultan of his imminent arrival.

  The Earl was received at The Palace with great delight and the Sultan, who was a comparatively young man, immediately started to talk to him about his horses.

  It was such a familiar conversation that it seemed as if they had picked it up just where they had left off four years ago.