All the Tea in China (21 page)

“I do not wish to put anyone out,” I said.

The room went silent. “Mary was our daughter,” Mrs. Eaton said. “It has been some three years now since typhoid took her.”

“I am very sorry,” I murmured, glancing at Phineas, who revealed nothing by his expression.

I could think of little else while I waited for sleep that night. It was by far the most comfortable bed I had lain upon, and even though I was accustomed to a hammock these past many weeks, I do not believe I overtell my delight. However, I could not cease thinking about the poor Eatons and their daughter, which led me to think of Uncle Toby and Flora. Did they count me as one dead?

I tossed and turned. Perhaps the comfort of the bed did not matter. Perhaps it was the lack of a ship’s motion just before sleep that would not allow me rest that night. Something was indeed amiss . . .

In the morning, after Phineas and I had quitted the Eatons’ to tour Cape Town, he was forthright. “You should write your uncle to let him know that you are well,” he said.

I was all astonishment at the prospect. “I did not know there was postal service available.”

He nodded. “I would very much like to relieve your uncle’s mind about your welfare. If you want me to write to him as well, I will oblige.” He paused. “I was awake most of the night, worrying for his sake. Perhaps being ashore has brought my guilt to bear, but I feel I must make amends to him somehow.”

“Can you trust anyone to carry money back to him in Oxford?”

Phineas stopped. “It is not his money that concerns me, Isabella.”

“Then what?” I cocked my head.

“Do you not know?” He took my hand, the first time that he had ever touched me in a personal manner. A tingle raced through my fingers, and I watched as though outside myself as he brought them to his lips. “I regret that you became a means to my ends, Isabella Goodrich,” he said softly. “Though it pains me to say so, I would still have you safe on board the next ship to England.”

My gaze met his. “I . . . I cannot,” I said, wondering even as I spoke whether my answer depended upon my missionary plans or the thought of being parted from Phineas Snowe.

Slowly he released my hand, and I held it with the other as though I did not trust it to ever again be as it should. I did not think that
I
would ever be.

“I do not want you hurt,” he said. “I lay awake last night . . .”

Oh, I was foolish! I had plans, as did Phineas, no matter how misbegotten. Such talk was heartbreak to us both.

I glanced downward. “We have said enough. Perhaps we should return to the Eatons’.”

He drew a deep breath, then took my hand again, only this time tucking it into his arm in a brotherly, gentlemanly gesture.

Once again that night I appreciated the softness of the high four-poster bed, but sleep eluded me. I thought of Phineas just down the hall, and I wondered if he found a better rest than the previous night. We did not speak of it the next day, nor the next, and I must confess that I was more than eager to bid Mr. and Mrs. Eaton farewell. I had enjoyed their company and certainly their hospitality, but I did not feel comfortable away from the ship. I found myself wondering about our fellow shipmates—Mr. Calow, Mr. Gilpin, even Mr. and Mrs. Akers. I did not dare ask about Julia Whipple, but it seemed to me that when we were all aboard again, ready to set sail, that she looked, if possible, even sadder.

A niggle of doubt troubled me the day we embarked, for I recalled her words to be on my guard with Phineas. He could contrive some reason to keep me ashore and, ultimately, from my purpose. But any fear was laid to rest, for it was he himself who held my arm and escorted me back onto the ship and stood beside me at the rail as we watched Cape Town recede.

I looked at Phineas, who stared solemnly as land faded into the horizon. “I have missed our Chinese lessons,” I said, affecting lightness.

He turned, his expression solemn. “I have missed a great deal.”

Captain Malfort approached, Mr. Gilpin and Mr. Calow in his wake. “Miss Goodrich,” he said. “I am delighted to hear that you are continuing with us on to Macao.”

Gilpin and Calow echoed his sentiments, the former solemn as a vicar and the latter beaming.

“However did she win you over, Snowe?” the captain said. “The fairer sex often uses the most peculiar methods to get their ways. Some use tears, some silence, and others talk a man to death.”

Snowe smiled at me like a begrudging brother; his demeanor changed from his previous intimate words. “Her persuasion was of a gentler nature.”

“I’m delighted to hear of it. Ladies who act aggressively are not ladies at all. And now if you will excuse me and my officers . . .”

After they left, I turned to Snowe, curious as to his words. He was already bowing, however, to take his leave.

“I will never understand you,” I murmured, watching his retreating figure.

That night after we retired and the candle had been snuffed, I spoke into the darkness. “Did you procure me a sword in Cape Town?”

Silence.

“You have not forgotten, surely,” I said, suppressing a groan. “Phineas?”

“Your flight of fancy has not diminished south of the equator,” he said. “Fortunately, mine has not either. Are you prepared to return to Hu-King? I believe Wo-Ping and Mei were engaged in battle.”

“With each other,” I added.

“Yes.”

“And racing up buildings and becoming invisible and hurling fire.”

“Yes. Thank you for the reminder. Do you wish me to continue? As I recall, the mythical elements seemed to disturb you.”

I settled into my hammock, which cradled me far better than the Eatons’ comfortable bed after all. “I am anxious to hear more. Please continue.”

I fell into a deep contented sleep that night, happy to be back aboard ship. It felt like home, and I realized that I would miss it—and my shipmates—when we reached our final destination. I dreamed of Cape Town and Oxford and China, even though with the latter I had little upon which to base my dream. However, the Orientals were pleased that I could speak their language, and they were eager to hear the gospel.

Someone shook my shoulder, and I awoke with a start. Moonlight illumined the room, and I could barely see. Phineas put a hand over my mouth. “You must get below. Quickly. Not a word.” He helped me from my hammock and led me toward the door. “Privateers,” he whispered in my ear. “They are boarding the ship.”

“What?”

“It is the French. You must go to the pantry with the other ladies.”

On deck I came awake with the realization that this was no joke, it was real. A ship fired on us, and the
Dignity
answered in kind. Smoke filled my nostrils. Overhead, a topsail took a hit, rigging splintering around us, and I screamed. Phineas made haste to get me to the ship’s pantry, all but dragging me. Julia Whipple, Mrs. Akers, and Mrs. Harrison already cowered there, the latter lady looking more awake than I had ever seen her, though she wore her bedclothes.

“You will be safe,” Phineas said to us. “Stay here, and stay away from the opening lest a stray ball find its way through.”

I grabbed his sleeve. “Where are you going?”

“I am going on deck to fight,” he said. He looked at me for a long moment, then was gone.

Mrs. Akers clung to me, sobbing hysterically. “What are we to do? I am certain we will be killed!”

“Or worse,” Mrs. Harrison said. “I’ve heard what pirates do with the ladies aboard.”

Mrs. Akers swooned.

Julia Whipple held her upright, her expression calm. “Now, now, Mrs. Akers, let us not panic. Our men are brave, are they not? I’m sure we’ll be quite safe. We have only to wait here. Look, the seaman who brought me below gave me this sword for our protection.”

“Oh my!” Mrs. Akers swooned again.

“We’ll probably drown anyway, for we are below the water line,” Mrs. Harrison said dolefully. “All they have to do is sink the ship.”

“You are a cruel liar, Miss Whipple,” Mrs. Akers cried. “That sailor gave you the sword so that we might kill ourselves, lest we be ravished!”

A sound like thunder cracked overhead. Mrs. Akers and Mrs. Harrison screamed. Julia and I reached for each other. My heart pounded, but I tried to keep a steady voice. “It is only cannon fire, ladies. I am certain that we will be well.”

“Allez! Allez!”

A voice rang out from the top of the stairs, then I had a quick view of thick black boots and faded gray-striped pants. A swarthy Frenchman brandished a cutlass as he descended the steps. A privateer!

He stopped, apparently surprised to find us instead of the ship’s treasure, then grinned.
“Bon soir, mesdames et
mesdemoiselles.”
He bowed with a flourish, sweeping his red stocking cap from his head.

Mrs. Akers screamed. “Mercy!”

Seized with panic, my heart in my throat, I ripped the sword from Julia’s hands and brandished it.
“Partez, vous
chien français!”

Straightening from his bow, he smiled at me. “So you speak French? I speak a little English myself.” He stepped forward. “But my heart breaks that you think me a dog.”

I held out the sword, its tip pointed directly at his heart. “I would stand back were I you,” I said in a low voice.

Glancing at my sword, he grinned then turned and walked back to the stairs, calling up the hatch.
“Mes copains!
Venez ici—c’est les dames!”

“What did he say?” Julia whispered.

“He’s telling his friends there are ladies down here.”

She stepped to my side, smoothing her skirt. “Let me handle them. I’m well acquainted with desperate men.”

“No!” I pushed her back, gripping the sword while I used my free arm to shield the other ladies.
Think, Isabella!
What strategy should I employ?

Julia’s eyes shone with admiration, but she gripped my arm. “Would you defend us? You’ll be killed!”

“You will get
us
killed!” Mrs. Akers cried.

Mrs. Harrison sank to a barrel and sipped from a small brown bottle.

Three other scraggly looking privateers clomped down the stairs and joined their cohort. Their eyes lit with pleasure when they saw we four ladies. Julia stepped forward again, smiling. “I won’t fight you,” she said, lifting her chin. “Leave the other ladies alone.”

The three newcomers looked at Red Cap for translation. He rapidly repeated her words in French. One with dark curly hair and a full beard smiled and moved forward, but I held out the sword.
“Arretez!”

The stocking-capped privateer laughed. “She’s feisty. That one is mine.”

The sword felt heavier in my hands than that to which I was accustomed, but I gripped it with all my strength. “I am not yours nor are any of these ladies. I order you to leave.”

“Allez!”
The bearded one scowled and jerked Julia by the wrist, brandishing his sword in my direction.

Despite her previous bravado, Julia screamed. The pirate pulled her to his side and planted noisy kisses on her face. The other men laughed.

“
Show your opponent no mercy
,” Signor Antonio had drilled into me, and I heeded his words without hesitation. Into the gap between the pirate’s sword arm and his hold on Julia, I thrust my sword in his midsection. He released her, stared at me in amazement, then fell to the deck, writhing.

10 h

“Robert!”
One of the privateers rushed to aid the wounded man, but the other two turned to me. Anger replaced their amused expressions, and they moved closer, cutlasses brandished. Julia instinctively scurried to my side, and behind the protection of my out-thrust sword we backed toward the other ladies.

“That was not wise, mademoiselle,” Red Cap said. “I must cut your pretty face in repayment.” Then he proceeded to tell me what else he would do.

I do not mind revealing that I was more frightened than I had ever been in my life. I had had the element of surprise with the distracted pirate, but I would now have to rely on skill and strategy. Could I fight two men at once? I had never done so.

More men raced down the stairs, and my heart pounded.
It is over. My foolishness will get us killed.

To my surprise I saw Phineas fighting backward down the stairs. He carried no weapon, yet he used his hands and feet, punching and kicking, to first knock the sword from a pirate’s hands then to knock him down the stairs to the deck. Another combatant took the first one’s place, and Phineas prevailed over him, as well. The pirate landed in a heap beside the first.

The two privateers menacing us turned toward Phineas. He was prepared, however, kicking the swords from their hands then punching them before they could defend themselves. They lay on the ground, moaning.

He saw me, and I was about to raise the sword in triumph when he barely had time to yell before another privateer was upon him. “Isabella! Take care behind you!”

I whirled around to face the pirate who had tended the wounded man. He held his cutlass at a deadly angle, slashing through the air as though to warn me. I suddenly realized that I had never actually fought Signor Antonio with the button removed from the tip of my sword.

I parried his thrust and could tell from his slashing that he fought with a great deal of drink inside him. He leered at me, his eyes rheumy with alcohol. I could not afford to let him tire himself out as would be my normal method. Though inebriated, he would fight too long and hard and would take risks that might work to his advantage. I hastily prayed for guidance and strength, then feinted, ducked, and after he followed through, drove my blade into his sword arm.

Cursing, he dropped the weapon and sank to his knees. Phineas rushed beside me, kicked him in the head, laying my opponent flat on the deck. We had barely a moment before we were beset by another miscreant, but between us, we sent him to join his companion.

We stared at one another, breathing heavily during the respite. I could not believe a man could fight the way Phineas had. Not a weapon did he have, save for his body, yet he had defended himself—and me—quite handily.

Mrs. Akers sobbed loudly, and even Julia had given herself to loud tears.