He poured a stream of light brown water into a glass from a clay pitcher and watched the sediments settle to the bottom as he began. "I used to be in the same line of work as Ramsay, only it was different then. Soldiering was still an honorable trade in those days. I came to this corner of Arabia under the banner of Ali Abdul Pasha, who wanted to consolidate his late father’s territorial gains against the Ottomans. He hired me out of Damascus. He appointed me Sherif of Mocha and charged me with its protection and security. I was completely content with the responsibilities and handsomely commensurate pay, that is until Ramsay showed up commanding a brigade of Dragoon fusiliers bent on capturing the port and the coffee-producing highlands."

"You fought against Ramsay?"

"No, it did not come to that. Do not forget the oath you took Evan. Ramsay took it as well. They eased into the harbor in a tall three-masted clipper, the Trade’s Increase, decked out under Union Jack. The villagers amassed around the dock in the normal fashion for receiving an English trading ship. It was only when the ship dropped anchor broadside to the dock and brought her guns to bear, that they realized something was wrong. A young messenger was sent to my quarters in the stone citadel at the heart of town. I took two lieutenants and made my way to the scene. Ramsay stood at the foot of the gangplank, flanked by a dozen red jacketed soldiers holding long, bayoneted muskets. I parted the crowd and stood at attention in front of them. Ramsay turned around to greet me and flushed completely white.

'I had no idea,' said Ramsay in German so that his troops couldn't understand.

'Nor I,' I said.

'I ah, I don't know where to begin.'

'You could begin by telling why you are here and why those cannons are pointed at my town.'

"Ramsay swallowed hard and struggled to look into my eyes. 'The captain has asked me to present the local official with terms of surrender for the port and city of Mocha.'

'And those terms are?' I asked as I noticed one of the soldiers looking at my tattoo, then back at Ramsay's.

'Is there someplace we can discuss this?'

"I nodded solemnly, turned on my heels and barked off an order for my lieutenants to clear a path through the gathering crowd. Ramsay whispered to a sergeant next to him, then followed two paces behind.

"I motioned for my men to remain at the entrance of the stone citadel as we went inside. I led the way up four flights of stairs to the roof. The smart, black trimmed red jacket fit Ramsay's gaunt frame perfectly, its rows of brass buttons blazed in the sun.

'What in the hell are you doing out there?' I asked, pointing to his ship.