An edginess seemed to infect the entire party. The restless Americans passed the time gambling, playing billiards, drinking, visiting brothels. A 42-gallon cask of Madeira and a 72-gallon cask of wine showed up on the expense account for Cairo.
On the night of December 29, in a run-down billiard hall, as outcasts from a dozen nations looked on, Robert Goldsborough of the U.S. Navy and Richard Farquhar, the ambitious Scot, played several games of billiards; the bet was a half-pint bottle of attar of roses, a perfume easily available in Cairo.
Goldsborough, a cocky young man from a prominent Maryland family, had arrived in Cairo to deliver a query from Hull and had stayed to await a definitive reply from Eaton. The two billiards players, both drinking, argued over the tally in the game; they insulted each other. A choice word from Farquhar provoked Goldsborough, who threw the first punch. Standing toe to toe, they exchanged blows, with each man receiving a black eye. Then Farquhar wrestled Goldsborough to the floor and began pounding him. The crowd, apparently deciding that the American was in the wrong, was ready to let the Scot “break his bones” as one witness later put it. But Selim, the jack-of-all-trades Janissary hired by Eaton, jumped in and rescued the young American officer.
Eaton was not at the billiard hall and so only learned of the “fisticuffs” the following morning. Eaton interrogated various officers and found out that Goldsborough was probably guilty of much more than one single brawl. He was accused of cheating at cards at “the most respectable Christian house in Grand Cairo,” and also of drunkenly wandering the streets of Cairo lifting the veils of women. (It’s a minor miracle that a jealous husband or brother hadn’t killed him.)
Goldsborough was apparently willing to risk his life to view beautiful plump women. “Her face is like a full moon,” ran one Egyptian proverb on beauty, “her haunches are like sofa cushions.” This metropolis, coveted by so many foreign conquerors, had another proverb, germane to the next accusation against Goldsborough: “Choose a blond woman for your eyes; choose an Egyptian for pleasure.”
Eaton wrote that Goldsborough, the Argus’s purser, was also accused of “what is somewhat more base, [that is,] of bilking his Courtezan in a Brothel.” Eaton was mortified that the first appearance of American officers in the famed city of Cairo should result in such boorish behavior. “Good God,” wrote Eaton, “when will our young men learn the weight of respect which ought to attach itself to a Uniform and a Sword?”
Goldsborough, when he found out the exact charges, denied everything. Eaton, although he was not Goldsborough’s superior officer, strongly advised the young man to return to Alexandria the following day, which happened to be New Year’s Eve. Goldsborough reluctantly agreed. (He would later demand an apology from Eaton, who instead would recommend him for court-martial.)
Eaton decided that he had better show Captain Hull some progress of some kind, so he dispatched Richard Farquhar to go to Alexandria with a ragtag bunch of recruits, lined up in Cairo for the Hamet mission. He gave Farquhar orders to feed them and retain them “conditionally,” and to look for more “conditional” Christian troops in Alexandria.
In addition, Eaton around this time signed up another recruit, an extremely unusual fellow. Thirty-six years old, a muscular 5'9", he told them he had already led many lives under many names: He claimed to have served in the Austrian, French, and Turkish armies and deserted from all three; he said he had run a British coffee house in Cairo, had joined the Capuchin monks, had become a Moslem dervish after publicly circumcising himself, and had visited Mecca. No one knew whether any of it was true, but Jean Eugene, as he now wanted to be called, spoke many languages, and he was enough of a military engineer to know about land surveying. Perhaps every covert op needs a multilingual, pathological liar.
While Eaton lingered in Cairo, it looked as though the war might come to him, just not the right war. The Nile-drenched valleys in Upper Egypt had finally dried, and the Mameluke army was reported “approaching Cairo with imposing strides.” As hoarding began, shortages hit the city; a huge camel caravan full of supplies coming from Suez was waylaid by Bedouin, worsening the situation. On Wednesday, January 8, Eaton received another impatient letter from Hull. “At all events it is time to determine on something, for it is impossible for us to remain here long.” The Argus was running out of food, he wrote, and no cash remained to buy any more. He politely suggested that if Eaton needed any more money, he should draw on the U.S. Navy or the State Department but not on Isaac Hull or the Argus. “I do not think I have any authority to draw money for any other purpose than paying [the Argus’s] disbursements.”