All the Tea in China (15 page)

He smiled. “You are perceptive, Miss Goodrich. But here, you are trembling. Let me find you a jacket.”

He disappeared and returned with a short blue sailor’s jacket. “I apologize for its unfashionable nature, but it serves our seamen well,” he said, holding it out to help me put it on.

“Oh dear.” I shrugged into the sleeves. “I hope I am not depriving someone else of their own warmth.”

“Not at all. And please keep this . . . I know you do not have any other clothes.”

The jacket now warm around me, I leaned against the rail and studied the horizon. Fingers of pink and orange reached into the sky and reflected over the blue of the ocean. Then a sliver of the sun itself appeared, like a shy actor showing only one foot, then a leg, then a torso on stage. At last he appeared, his presence filling the theater, and I wanted to applaud.

As I watched the display, I felt alone with nothing between me and the edge of the world. Indeed, all things seemed possible in the beauty of such light and plane. I did not intend it, but a sigh slipped past my lips.

“The sunrise
is
beautiful,” Gilpin said. “That is why I am usually on deck before my watch begins. I never tire of seeing a new day dawn.”

I inhaled the chill air, the smell of salt tickling my nose. “It is all very new to me,” I confessed. “I am certain I appear like a child.”

“Never,” he said, smiling. “I think it admirable that you embrace a new life. Most of our passengers complain the entire trip until we are once again on land. Speaking of passengers, I believe I heard the captain say that some of them are stirring today and feel up to partaking of meals in the cuddy.”

“I look forward to meeting them. Everyone else seems so busy going about the business of managing the ship that I find myself with no one to talk to.”

“There is always your brother, of course,” he said.

“Yes, of course.” No telling what I would learn from Snowe ere this voyage had concluded.

Gilpin put his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. “You and Miss Whipple have been congenial, I have noticed.”

I felt myself on guard. “Yes, we have.”

He rocked forward then stood motionless. “Miss Goodrich, I know you are a lady of character and breeding. It pains me to tell you this, but I would not want your own reputation sullied. Miss Whipple is not a fit companion for you.”

“Indeed?” I did not know whether to be flattered or angered.

He nodded. “Her character is not on par with yours. Mr. Snowe’s recommendation was enough to secure her passage, but all aboard know the limits of her character and have been warned against any association. Perhaps Mr. Snowe has already chastised you, but I can’t help but think that my mother would want me to protect the reputation of any sister of mine . . . if I had a sister, that is.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gilpin. I will take your words under advisement.”

“Mama would want me to warn you.”

The ship’s bell rang. “Eight o’clock,” he said, “and time for my watch. You will find breakfast in the cuddy. But if your teeth are of a delicate nature, beware the biscuits. They are usually extremely difficult to chew.”

“Another warning from Mama?” I could not help asking saucily.

He did not take my humor. “No, from me.” He touched his cap. “Good day, Miss Goodrich.”

“Good day, Mr. Gilpin.”

I made my way toward the cuddy, and whom should I find but Phineas Snowe. “Dear brother,” I said, taking his arm, “I wondered if you would eat breakfast.”

“I always try when I am aboard ship. And I, too, am delighted to escort you,” he said.

I allowed him to lead the way, but it occurred to me that perhaps he was not so much trying to protect me aboard ship, as he had said last night, as making sure I had little opportunity to divulge the truth about him. Nonetheless, we had a bargain, and he would have to learn to trust me. Though it pained me to think of Uncle Toby and his money, I would bide my time and abide by my agreement with Snowe.

Captain Malfort was already in the cuddy, speaking with two couples. One was close in age to Snowe and myself, deeply engrossed in a private conversation. The young lady’s dress looked twice made over, but she had added a bit of ribbon here, there, and in her hair. The effect was complementary, though it did little to ameliorate the sharp angles of her face.

The other couple were quite elderly and dressed exceedingly fine. The woman appeared to be near dozing as she sat with her head propped in her hand at the table. Her husband spoke animatedly with the captain, gesturing wildly and evidently relating a great storm at sea. As Snowe and I approached, I could hear his heated words.

“. . . rolling as though in a barrel, Captain. Really! Is there nothing that can be done?”

The captain was all patience. “I assure you, Mr. Harrison, that we had quite a calm night at sea. You have been with the East India Company for a number of years now. Have you not heard from other travelers that the seasickness will pass?”

“It is not I who was troubled so much as Martha,” Harrison said, gesturing at his wife. Her head bobbed in her hand, and I thought I heard a tiny snore emanate. She did not appear to have any difficulty sleeping now!

“All will be well, I am certain,” Captain Malfort said. “Ah, Mr. Snowe. Miss Goodrich. I trust
you
had a pleasant sleep?”

“Indeed we did,” Snowe said.

“Remarkably well,” I agreed cheerfully, the picture of innocence.

Captain Malfort introduced us to the Edward Harrisons, the elderly couple. I am sorry to say that poor Mrs. Harrison was rudely awakened by a curt jab in her shoulder from Mr. Harrison. “How d’ye do?” she said on cue, then promptly closed her eyes again. I could not tell if the burden of additional people in the room taxed her social graces or if she was merely trying to make up for the sleep she had apparently lost last night.

The other couple approached us, their shoulders barely touching, as decorum permitted. They tried not to stare at each other, but the furtive glances they shot in each other’s direction told me all I needed to know. They were newly wed.

“This will be a long voyage indeed,” I muttered.

“What’s that?” Snowe said, leaning closer.

I smiled. “Nothing of consequence, brother.”

The captain introduced the couple as Charles and Anne Akers, indeed newly married. “Brother and sister?” Mrs. Akers said, once Snowe and I had been introduced as well. “How very odd. I fail to see much of a family resemblance. It is always telling in the eyes, I say, but there is a distinct lack of similarity in yours.”

“We both have brown eyes,” Snowe pointed out, which surprised me. I could not have sworn that he noticed the color of mine, for I had made no particular notice of his.

Mrs. Akers continued to study us. “Yes, but the shape. Something is different.”

“We are only half related, after all,” Snowe said.

“Really?” Mrs. Akers seemed delighted by the new tack of the conversation. I could tell she preferred a good gossip —under the guise of conversation, of course. “Exactly how are you related?”

I decided to let Snowe answer, but the captain—bless his briny soul—called us to be seated. “Breakfast is ready to be served.”

We took our seats, Mrs. Harrison being prevailed upon to wake up enough to move to a different chair. We were a small group this morning, Mr. Gilpin being on watch, of course, and the midshipmen not present. I wondered why Julia Whipple was not among our group but thought it best not to ask. We were joined for this meal, however, by the ship’s surgeon, Jonathan Mortimer. Mr. Mortimer had little regard for his general appearance, with unkempt clothes and stringy gray hair, and he spoke little. Yet somehow he carried himself with dignity and had the demeanor of a man well acquainted with his business. I did not remember his attending me while I recovered, and I hoped not to need his skills again during this voyage.

Misfortune prevailed, as I found myself seated next to Mrs. Akers. She immediately dominated the conversation, but thankfully her subject matter did not involve Snowe or me. I tried to feign attentiveness, but she spoke of such trivial matters that I instead contemplated the meal—which I must add was shockingly not up to the standards of yesterday’s dinner. We were served corned beef and tongue, questionable butter, curry (which Captain Malfort claimed was popular with those who had spent time in India), and the biscuits about which Mr. Gilpin had warned me. I regret to report that I took childish delight in the hardness of a biscuit forcing Mrs. Akers to cease all conversation for a moment.

“Why, these are as hard as a sea chest,” she said after extricating the biscuit from between her teeth. She all but spit out the offending morsel. “Captain Malfort, are there none other available?”

“I am afraid this is all we have to offer,” he said, and I could have sworn I saw a twinkle in his eyes. “You are not obliged to partake of breakfast, of course. Many passengers prefer to dip into their own provisions during this time.”

“Nonsense!” Mr. Akers said, quelling his wife with a loving expression. “We are Englishmen, and we will eat what the company has seen fit to provide us.” He gnawed on the biscuit with long, yellow teeth, which put me in mind of a rat. “Quite tasty, my dear. It gives the ol’ incisors quite a go.”

Mrs. Akers smiled lovingly, but while Mr. Akers was occupied, she set her biscuit to the side.

I tried not to smile behind a cup of tea. Mrs. Akers caught my gaze and frowned. I cast about for a topic of conversation to avert further questions about eyes. “Do you look forward to living in China, Mrs. Akers?”

“Goodness, no,” she exclaimed, loudly enough for all to hear. “I understand it to be a dreadful place, full of yellow people who chatter in a strange language. In truth, when Mr. Akers informed me that the company was sending him on this voyage, I contented myself with the notion that at least I would see monkeys for the first time.”

A polite pall settled over the table. “Surely you do not mean the Chinese themselves, do you?” I said quietly.

“But of course!” She laughed, glancing around the table for approval. “I have heard that they do not care for we Englishmen in their country, and I am happy to oblige. I look forward to living in Macao—a Portuguese colony, after all—during the trading season in Canton. Once Mr. Akers’s business is tended to, we shall be on the first boat back to Britain. Were we not newly wed, I would be content to stay home. However, I consider myself a woman of the world and one entirely devoted to her husband and my new situation as his wife. I am sure I shall be as fine a traveler as any Englishwoman who has gone before me and a credit not only to my gender but to my country as well.”

Such a speech might have been met with applause in her imaginary version of Parliament, but our little group sat quite shocked. Snowe, I noticed, sitting beside me, seemed almost livid. He showed no outward displeasure while he calmly buttered a biscuit with some of the dubious butter, but I could tell by the tightness in his jaw that he seethed inwardly.

What bothered me more—that Mrs. Akers believed as she did or that I was learning to read Snowe’s expressions and moods so easily?

“I am certain that the fairer sex will indeed be well represented in the Orient by all ladies present,” Captain Malfort said, smoothing over the silence.

“Hear hear,” Harrison said, holding up his teacup. Mrs. Harrison leaned against his shoulder.

“Miss Goodrich, I have not heard your impression about the Far East.” Mrs. Akers buttered her biscuit and attempted another bite.

“I would prefer to save my opinion until I have actually seen it,” I said, demurring.

“Isabella will disembark in Cape Town,” Snowe said. “Perhaps, Mrs. Akers, you could do likewise.”

She set down her biscuit. “What? I? Did you not hear me, Mr. Snowe? I have a duty in Macao, no matter how odious it may be. How could you disregard me in such a manner?”

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Akers, but I
was
thinking of you. Perhaps you and my sister could be companions and travel back to England together.”

Dear friend, I could not help myself. I am not given to violence unless it is of a fencing nature, but I planted my heel smartly but quietly against Snowe’s instep. To his credit, he did not even flinch. I knew, however, that my message had been received from his manner of blinking.

Mrs. Akers waved her hands in protest. “Out of the question, Mr. Snowe. I am certain that Mr. Akers will hear none of it, as well.”

“On the contrary,” Snowe said. “Though he may agree with you now, I suspect that by the time we reach the Cape, he will see the wisdom of my suggestion.”

“You are kindness itself to be concerned with a newly married couple,” Mrs. Akers said. “But I am afraid that we cannot be parted. Why ever are you on this voyage, Miss Goodrich, if you are only to disembark at Cape Town?”

Without so much as a sidelong glance at me, Snowe launched into an explanation of how I was determined to become a missionary, but he, as a loving brother, would not countenance it. Out of deference to me, I suppose, neither the captain nor Snowe mentioned that I had stowed aboard ship. Fortunately, Mrs. Akers was not quick-minded enough to ask why Snowe allowed me aboard in the first place.

When he finished, I marveled at Snowe’s ease in concealing the truth, all around. I did not care for liars, but he seemed to have a certain skill.

“A missionary? Mr. Akers, did you hear that?” Mrs. Akers nudged her husband’s arm, jostling the corned beef from his fork.

“Quite admirable, I must say.” He calmly reclaimed the meat.

“Admirable? Why, I am all astonishment at your lack of propriety,” she said. “For whoever heard of an unmarried
lady
missionary? In the Far East, no less!”

“Whoever indeed?” Snowe muttered, casting me an exceedingly penetrating sidelong glance.

Later Snowe, Harrison, and Akers met together to discuss East India Company business. It occurred to me that I did not even know what Snowe did for the company, other than to procure tea. How, exactly, did he do this? Did he send men out to pick the leaves? Did he lead an expedition himself? I resolved to ask him later.