He wheeled and headed for the naqqara-khana, the entry to Jadar's compound. When he reached it, he realized the guards were gone. Amazed, he walked through the entry and discovered all the interior partitions of the gulal bar were also gone. The satin tents that had held the melons, the pan leaves, the kitchen—all were deserted, empty.
He made his way on through the deserted gulal bar, feeling like a man lost. In the dark there were no guards, no troops, nothing. Ahead he heard the sound of elephants trumpeting and he felt his way forward through the semi-darkness, the ground a mosaic of flickering shadows from the still-burning camp light. His despair absolute, he reached into the pocket of his jerkin for the bottle.
A katar was at his throat.
"It's forbidden by death to draw a weapon in the gulal bar, Captain."
"I was only . . ."
There was an explosion of laughter and he turned to see the shadowed face of Jadar.
"What . . . what are you doing here?"
"Thinking, Captain Hawksworth. Do you never think before a battle at sea? Surely you must."
"I think. And I also keep my gunners sober." Hawksworth
felt vaguely foolish as he finished extracting the brandy bottle. "Do you know half your men are eating handfuls of opium?"