All the Tea in China (18 page)

“I do not suppose you have green to share?” I said hopefully, like a child. Indeed, I felt quite under his spell at the moment.

“I have some leaves in my trunk,” he said. “After I have seen Julia, I will bring you some.”

The door closed after him. Surely when he returned I would see what else was in the mysterious trunk besides, apparently, tea. I huddled under my two blankets, not from the cold now, but from the memory of the story. I felt an odd sort of kinship with the man who had calmed my fears and fired my intrigue. Had it truly been Phineas Snowe who thrilled my imagination by taking me to a foreign land? I could not wait for Mei to recover the sword from hiding and use it to show Wo-Ping that she was not the heartless woman he thought her. Phineas had not even described what type of swords Mei and Wo-Ping possessed, and I longed to hear their descriptions. And what of the two
hup
? Would Mei be forced to fight Wo-Ping? What would be her initial approach? Surely she would be calm and allow Wo-Ping to exhaust himself by attacking with his sword first so that she could study his weaknesses and take full advantage. Or would he do the same with her?

I did not realize that I spent hours picturing the swordplay in my mind. At last I realized from the angle of the sun through the porthole that it had been quite a long time since Snowe had left the room. I could not imagine what had detained him.

Then I remembered that he had gone to Miss Whipple.
Julia
, he had called her. What else—who else—could have kept him for such a great length of time? My spirits sank, my enthusiasm dampened as greatly as the dress lying on the cabin floor. How could he weave a magical tale, drawing me into a world of his making, then abandon me for Julia Whipple?

When I heard the door finally open, I pretended sleep, even when on my wooden crate he laid a fresh dress and a cup of tea. Let it grow cold!

I felt betrayed. Indeed, Miss Whipple and Snowe seemed to have their heads together the rest of the day. They strolled the deck, laughing and conversing while the crew made busy repairing the damage the storm had wrought and mopping the deck. The sun shone brightly now, but it might as well have been pitch black and the ship storm-tossed for my mood. I did not understand why Snowe would seemingly abandon me for Miss Whipple’s company. It is true that I was not, in fact, his sister, but we had shared something during the storm through his story, something akin to closeness that we had never had. I was bewildered at his reactions, and my own, as well.

The dress Miss Whipple had loaned me was gray this time, a light cotton that made me think of a dove or a pigeon. Naturally I was grateful to have dry clothing, but I could not help but desire something a little more fashionable to wear. It was difficult to remind myself that missionaries should have an attitude like the lilies of the field, but I believe that even flowers dressed more fashionably than I.

I took several turns around the deck, keeping an eye on Miss Whipple and Phineas. Midshipman Calow was kind enough to inquire about my health after the storm, avowing that it was not nearly the worst he had seen in his young life at sea. Mr. Gilpin joined us and agreed. They were both gentlemanly enough to reserve criticism when they heard of my distress at the tossing nature of the ship during the worst of the storm.

“Mr. and Mrs. Akers were both violently ill,” Mr. Calow reported cheerfully. “They did not even manage to toss their dinners into a bucket. One of the seamen is cleaning up their cabin now.”

Mr. Gilpin gave him a silencing glance. “That is no fit talk for a lady, Mr. Calow.”

“Aye, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I beg your pardon, Miss Goodrich.”

I had rather enjoyed the strong image his words evoked regarding the Akers, but I suppressed a smile. “All is forgiven.”

“Mr. Calow, climb up and check the rigging, if you please,” Mr. Gilpin said.

“Aye, sir.” Mr. Calow saluted then scrambled up the ropes.

I smiled. “I admire his stamina. Is he doing well as a midshipman? He seems quite young.”

“It is a good age to begin,” Gilpin said. “I was about that old when I began my career.”

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back in his earnest manner. “Miss Goodrich, I took the liberty of sending those books to your cabin.”

Julia Whipple tilted her head back and laughed at something Snowe said. I gritted my teeth. “Thank you, Mr. Gilpin. I look forward to reading them.”

Gilpin turned and spied Miss Whipple and Snowe. The first mate shook his head. “I am sorry about your brother,” he said softly.

“Phineas? Whatever for?”

Gilpin clucked. “He is shaming you by spending time with her. Their association might ruin your reputation. He should be thinking about that instead of himself.”

His solicitousness was irritating and altogether misplaced. “I have no concept of what society will be like in China, Mr. Gilpin. Perhaps such associations will not matter. Particularly if I live among the non-Christians.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You mean the Chinese? Why, you will never be able to do that, Miss Goodrich.”

“Why?”

“Because . . . because it simply is not done!”

“And why not?”

“Because you are an Englishwoman. Even though we are no longer on English soil, we are bound by her societal norms. You must not associate with Miss Whipple, and you will not live among the Chinese. No foreign women are allowed in Canton. You will, at best, live in Macao.”

“I cannot very well be a missionary to my own people,” I said. “What purpose would that serve?”

“Why, even we English need spiritual guidance. I am certain there is some useful work you can perform with the clergy who are already there.”

His bossiness grated. “But I could have stayed in Oxford were that all I hoped to accomplish.”

Mr. Gilpin shook his head. “Forgive me, Miss Goodrich. I know that your heart desires to reach the Chinese, but it is quite impossible.” He glanced over at Snowe and Miss Whipple again. “I blame your brother for not advising you on this before you went to so much trouble to follow him aboard this ship. If you will forgive me, it is clear he has little regard for anyone save himself. Rest assured that he has some ulterior motive.”

Why I desired to defend Phineas was beyond my understanding, especially since I was somewhat angry at him. “He
did
begin to teach me Chinese,” I said, then could not resist adding, “for my benefit. I do not appreciate your words about my brother, nor your inference regarding Miss Whipple. She has been naught but kind to me. I will not slight her.”

Gilpin glanced at Snowe and Miss Whipple, then touched his knuckles to his forehead in salute. “Forgive me, Miss Goodrich. Good day.”

“Good day,” I said, relieved to be rid of his company.

At the moment, I felt that I had not a friend aboard ship. Everyone seemed bent on telling me what I could and could not do. I confess that Gilpin’s words about Phineas took root, and I could not forget them. Captain Malfort approached me, a genuine smile on his face. After we exchanged pleasantries, I said, “Have you known my brother long?”

“Several years now,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“I have not seen him in a long while, and you know that we were not raised together. What sort of man would you say that he is?”

“He has always been a man of stellar reputation regarding the East India Company, Miss Goodrich. I am afraid that is all that I know. But to me it speaks well for a man’s character.”

If Mr. Gilpin knew something about Phineas Snowe, then it was not common knowledge. “Thank you, Captain. That puts my mind at rest.”

He scrutinized my expression. “You do not have cause for concern regarding your brother, do you?”

I shook my head, affecting a smile. “No, Captain. It was only idle curiosity, nothing more.”

He tipped his cap and went on his way. Miss Whipple and Snowe had drifted out of sight somewhere, and with a sigh, I determined to look for Gilpin’s books by returning to my cabin. Provided those two had not already taken up residence in there!

Once again that night I retired before Phineas. I managed to hang the canvas curtain by myself, but I heard him enter, undress for bed, and lie down in his hammock. After a while I expected to hear snoring but was surprised to hear his voice instead. “Are you still awake, Isabella?”

What could he want? “Yes.”

“You seemed distant this afternoon and evening. Are you well?”

“Since you have asked, I am experiencing some pain.”

“Truly?” I heard him sit up. “What can I do to help?”

“You can tell me why you ignored me in favor of Julia Whipple.”

He lay back down, a long sigh emanating. “She is alone on this voyage and has no friends. I feel sorry for her plight and merely try to bolster her spirits with my company from time to time.” He paused. “She thinks highly of you, Isabella, did you know?”

If he sought to flatter me . . . it worked. “Really? What did she—” I broke off. “You two discussed me,” I said, annoyance creeping into my voice.

“We discussed a great many things. It is not so large a ship that the primary travelers escape notice,” he said. “And now, would you like to hear more about Wo-Ping and Mei?”

I must confess that I did and was willing to, if not outright forgive, overlook the slights I had felt were dealt me. “I would indeed like to hear more,” I said, hating myself for giving in so easily. “But when will you reach the part about the swords? I am anxious to hear about Mei and Wo-Ping fighting. Who is the better swordsman?”

“That is yet to be determined,” he said. “Remember, too, that there are many weapons in China, not just swords. Different areas of the country have different weapons, as well as fighting skills.”

“What are some of the weapons?” I asked, temporarily forgetting the town of Hu-King.

“There are swords, which have two blades and can be broadswords, more like sabers, or heavier like cutlasses. Those with single blades are called knives. There are shorter butterfly swords, which are used in pairs. There are also
emei,
which have arrowlike points at each end. Then there are staffs, whips, and spears, not to mention axes, hammers, and cudgels. There are also throwing weapons—darts, arrows, sharpened stars, and blades.”

I could scarcely breathe for excitement. So many weapons, and I had spent a lifetime learning only one! “Perhaps Wo-Ping or Mei have skills in some of these weapons as well,” I said. The story would certainly be improved if this were true.

“Perhaps,” Phineas said vaguely. “Are you ready for me to begin?”

I wrapped the blankets securely around my neck, resisting the urge to kick my feet together like a child. “Yes, please.”

He cleared his throat. “Mei knew that Wo-Ping had the sympathy of the farmer as well as the villagers, but she also knew that he could not be trusted. She would bide her time, for she was not only a skilled warrior, but she was patient and clever . . .”

We fell into a sort of routine, one day much like another aboard the
Dignity
. Phineas seemed persuaded of my earnestness in learning Chinese, and we passed much of each day in study. He taught me much of the written language, which, though complicated, seemed to make a great deal of sense. Two or more pictures could create one new word. I learned over a thousand characters, which, he said, would probably make me a functional reader in China. Not, he said, that I was actually going there, of course!

At my request, Mr. Calow secured some precious paper for me, which I used to laboriously copy the Gospel According to St. Luke in Chinese. My characters did not look the same as Robert Morrison’s original, but I worked diligently and made several copies of the second chapter, the story of Jesus’ birth.

Snowe seemed surprised that I learned so well, but at last he agreed to teach me spoken words. I did not want to resort to writing or reading characters when we reached China (and I
was
going there!), no matter how easily it could be understood in many regions. He taught me that Chinese was a tonal language, unlike English. Each word had a particular pitch, and using the wrong one could change the meaning from one word to something completely different.

He taught me by day, and at night he continued the story of Mei and Wo-Ping. An evil landowner threatened much of the village, and the warriors put aside their differences in preparation to defend Hu-King. I sensed an undercurrent of distrust between the warriors and still believed that one day they would fight, but though I had initially sided with Mei in all things, I now harbored great sympathy for Wo-Ping as well. He had been the first to see the true goodness in her heart, but he waited patiently for her to reveal it.

The story so overwhelmed me that during the day I often remembered two things and at night forgot to ask: how much time had Phineas spent in China that he was able to spin folktales, and why had he not yet procured a sword for me?

I would like to say that I became better acquainted with my fellow travelers, but I did not have much use for their company beyond what was required at mealtimes. Mrs. Akers continued to dominate all conversation, though thankfully she had moved on to other subjects beyond the lack of physical similarities between Phineas and myself. Mr. Akers kept busy with company matters, as did Mr. Harrison, who apparently had taken the younger man under his wing. Personally, I believe Mr. Akers merely threw himself into work to avoid the bride that he by now may have regretted taking.

We saw little of Mrs. Harrison, who seemed to be either sleeping or in a constant stupor. I began to believe that she had a physical ailment of some sort that prevented her from staying awake long, until I noticed that Dr. Mortimer gave her a tiny bottle almost daily. When I asked Phineas about it, he sighed. “It is laudanum, Isabella.”

“From what does she suffer?” I said, alarmed.

“Malaise of life, I believe. I have my suspicions that Harrison chose China as a means of either ending his wife’s life or giving her reason to fully recover. She has used the drug for a long time now, I have heard it whispered.”

I did not have to ask who had done the whispering. Though he was more careful to spend most of the day with me, he still passed time with Julia Whipple. I had it in mind to speak directly with her, for I still felt it my duty to encourage her to seek a better life for herself once in China. I had heard that many of our fairer sex had to resort to desperate measures to survive, but I knew that there must be another situation for her.