Seven Dials - Anne Perry [64]
Now he stared at the blue water and felt the breeze sweet and quite warm on his skin, and looked forward to the interest of a new place unlike anything he had ever imagined, let alone seen.
As soon as he landed he presented his passport, then saw to the disembarking of his luggage. With his case in his hand he stood on the quayside amid the shouting and the bustle. He heard a dozen different languages, none of which he understood, but there was something common to docksides the world over. In London it would have been bright at least, but there was always that chill in the wind up from the water. Here the heat wrapped around him like a damp, muffling blanket. The smells were at once familiar—tar, salt, fish. But there were also different smells—spices, dust, something warm, and sweat.
Some of the men worked naked to the waist. Others stood around dressed in long robes and turbans, talking to each other, inspecting a box here or a bale there.
With the captain’s assistance he had already changed a little of his money into the local currency of piasters, he suspected at a highly unfavorable rate, but the convenience was worth a price.
It was late afternoon already and he must find lodgings before dark. He picked up his case and started to walk off the quay towards the busy street. Was there anyone who would at least understand English, even if they did not speak it? What sort of public transport was there?
He saw a horse and open carriage near the curb, presumably Alexandria’s equivalent of a hansom. He was about to go over and ask the driver to take him to the British consulate when another man in Western clothes cut in front of him at a brisk stride, climbed up and swung into the seat, shouting his instructions in English.
Pitt determined to be quicker next time.
It took him twenty minutes to find another carriage, and a further five to persuade the driver to take him to the consulate for what he considered to be a reasonable fare. Of course he had no notion as to whether this man was taking him as he wished or not. He could have ended up in the desert, for all he was able to judge for himself, but he was too fascinated not to stare around as he was jerked and jolted along the streets. Narrow alleys opened into wide, sunlit thoroughfares.
Everything was of warm sand colors shifting into darker terra-cotta and the soft browns of wooden windows jutting out over the unpaved earth and stones below. Sun-bleached awnings hung motionless. Chickens and pigeons moved at will, pecking and squawking. Now and then a camel lurched with the peculiar grace of a ship bucking against the tide. Heavy-laden donkeys plodded along.
People wore pale robes, men with turbans, women with flowing scarves that also covered the lower half of their faces. Here and there was a splash of red or clear blue-green.
There seemed to be insects everywhere. Over and over again Pitt felt the needlelike sting of mosquitoes, but he could not move quickly enough to swat them.
All around him the air was pungent with the smell of spices and hot food, the sound of voices, laughter, now and then metal bells with a strange, hollow music to them.
Dusk came suddenly, and in an enamel-clear sky changing from hard blue to luminous turquoise there floated the most haunting cry, singing and yet not as he had ever heard it before. It seemed to ululate up and down without drawing breath, and floated as if from a height, penetrating the evening till it shivered from the towers and walls of every building.
No one looked startled. They seemed to have expected it exactly at the instant it came.
The carriage drew up at a marble-faced building of great beauty, its smooth stones alternating in lighter and darker shades to give it a rich appearance. Pitt thanked the driver,