The Three Brothers was soon under way, leaving the calm waters of the Bay and entering the Straits. They made good progress as they sailed west, close to the Spanish coast. To their right were the narrow beaches of the Spanish coastline, its shrubs and grassland burnt brown after a long summer. They were close enough to shore to make out some herds of goats grazing on the steep slopes, and to see that they were themselves the subject of scrutiny by two ragged young goatherds. Bresciano concentrated on the choppy sea in which appeared the sleek shapes of dolphins. They kept pace with the boat, leaping out into the air to dive deep. They turned and twisted and were an exhilarating escort that eventually tired of its sport and turned aside in search of shoals of mackerel. Bresciano’s thoughts turned to what lay ahead. If only I knew a little more Arabic, he thought, I could have gone further into Morocco. That’s the sort of adventure I need – to get away from the drudgery of the office! Then he reminded himself of his serious business in Tangier. His sister Lucia had to be protected from this rogue who was pursuing her and she and Aunt Maria had to be returned safely to Gibraltar. Then there was his father: he was too ill to keep the business going in Gibraltar without his son’s help.
He sighed. When would he have another opportunity like this one? To travel into the heart of Morocco, that wild and enigmatical land! Oh, well, he would have to make do with Tangier.
As the boat veered south, across the narrow straits towards Tangier, the weather changed and the sea became choppier. Bresciano was not much troubled by this; he buttoned his jacket, pulled up his collar and prepared to endure. The many fishing expeditions he had shared with his father as a boy had accustomed him to the rough waters of the Straits, but the motion of the boat was affecting Lempriere.
‘How long will we have to endure this?’ Lempriere muttered. ‘I have never been able to enjoy ship travel. To think that I thought of becoming a sailor when I was a boy!’
Trying to reassure him, Bresciano engaged him in conversation. They talked about Lempriere’s childhood on the island of Jersey, and Bresciano’s experiences in the Great Siege of Gibraltar. This reminded Bresciano of Abraham: ‘I have a friend who is in Tangier at the moment. I shall visit him when I arrive,’ he said.
The sea remained rough and a slight drizzle set in. Eventually their conversation petered out as Lempriere concentrated on trying to subdue his heaving stomach. The captain cheerfully informed them that his little vessel was unsinkable; they would arrive within a couple of hours.
They rounded a headland and Tangier came into sight. The few passengers crowded the port side of the boat to get their first glimpse of the town ahead of them. It lay behind crumbling defensive fortifications – a small walled town set on a slight hill. They glimpsed a few houses behind the walls, buildings with pitched roofs. Above the town rose the ruin of an old castle, and before it was a

shallow bay. Bresciano was a little disappointed: it looked to be a place housing something like two thousand people. It seemed to him to be a very small town.