Page 137 - The Tigris Expedition

The Tigris Expedition
at home in the local shallows. Precisely the same process was
repeated, for the third time. Even the ransom was the same as the
last, as if this was a mere routine. But as the pilot book stressed that
the low coast ahead of us was rarely visited by Europeans, I began to
suspect that the three dhows probably had contact with each other
by radio. By walkie-talkie like Igor’s. They were certainly no
fishermen.
‘Look at that man on the pillows.’ Dctlcf was at my side with
binoculars. We all took a good look, and the men in the dhow
seemed unimpressed by our long range attention; they seemed to
have known before they came what our situation was.
What Detlef had pointed out was a fat, criminal-looking man
with big turban and crossed legs who sat on pillows and scrutinised
us with contempt and calculation. His fat hands had certainly never
touched a fishing line and he was the archetype of a hardened crook.
The others were a mixed lot, none of them to be trusted behind
one’s back. Some wore turbans and might be Pakistanis, a few less
ficrce-looking could be Arab seamen of a sort from Kuwait.
That these men asked ransom money was clear to all, and Captain
Igor again vigorously opposed my entering into any kind of deal
with them. It was equally clear that if we did not pay, they would
just hang around with the other two gangs and harvest all we had in
the black night if we were forced to jump on to some reef or the
swampy land behind. We could not trust the Russians’ anchor. In
the vast shallows ahead no coastguard or customs officer would
ever disturb these people in whatever business they were up to. It
was certainly not fishing. Perhaps smuggling of drugs or dutiable
goods to Failaka from the other side of the gulf. We had heard that
even human labour was smuggled to rich Kuwait from Pakistan by
organised gangsters. If people or goods could be brought ashore on
this deserted side of Failaka Island, then the back door to Kuwait
was open. Failaka was Kuwait territory and there was a regular
ferry service from the other side of the island direct to the capital on
the mainland.
In an hour or so the sun would set. This dhow was clearly the last
chance to get out into deep water before the world around us again
disappeared from sight. Captain Igor was still furious at the mere
idea of dealing with gangsters. To me this had become a dilemma. I
now felt a double responsibility. My own men had volunteered to
confront the hazard of the experiment we were involved in. Our
ship was of a type that could bring us safe up on rocks and reefs, so
long as there were no vertical cliffs. But now we were dragging a
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