"Rad el Moussa," came the foggy comment. "By Jove! Captain, I believe we're in an awkward place. He's the biggest man in this town far and away, and about the biggest blackguard also from what I've heard. He's a merchant in every line that comes handy, from slaves and palm fibre to horses and dates; he runs most of those pearling dhows that we saw sweltering about at the anchorage; and he's got a little army of his own with which he raids the other coast towns and the caravans up-country when he hears they've got any truck worth looting. I say, this is scaring. I've been taking the thing pretty easily up to now, thinking it would come all right in time. But if I'd known it was old Rad who had grabbed me, I tell you I should have sat sweating." "It takes a lot more than a mere nigger, with his head in clouts, to scare me," said Kettle truculently, "and I don't care tuppence what he may be by trade. He's got a down on me at present, I'll grant, but I'm going to give Mr. Rad el Moussa fits a little later on, and you may stand by and look on, if you aren't frightened to be near him." "I'm not a funk in the open," grumbled Murray, "and you know it. You've seen me handle a crew. But I'm in a kind of cellar here, and can't get out, and if anybody chooses they can drop bricks on me, and I can't stop them. Have they been at you about those rifles, sir?" "What rifles? No, nobody's said 'rifles' to me ashore here." "It seems we've got some cases of rifles on board for one of those little ports up the coast. I didn't know it." "Nor did I," said Kettle, "and you can take it from me that we haven't. Smuggling rifles ashore is a big offence here in the Persian Gulf, and I'm not going to put myself in the way of the law, if I know it." "Well, I think you're wrong, sir," said the Mate. "I believe they're in some cases that are down on the manifest as 'machinery.' I saw them stowed down No. 3 hold, and I remember one of the stevedores in London joking about them when they were struck below." "Supposing they were rifles, what than?" "Rad wants them. He says they're consigned to some of his neighbors up coast, who'll raid him as soon as they're properly armed; and he doesn't like the idea. What raiding's done, he likes to do himself, and at the same time he much prefers good Brummagen rifles to the local ironmonger's blunderbusses." "Well," said Kettle, "I'm waiting to hear what he thought you could do with the rifles supposing they were on board." "Oh, he expected me to broach cargo and bring them here ashore to him. He's a simple-minded savage." "By James!" said Kettle, "the man's mad. What did he think I should be doing whilst one of my mates was scoffing cargo under my blessed nose?" "Ah, you see," said the foggy voice, with sly malice, "he did not know you so well then, sir. That was before he persuaded you to come into his house to stay with him."