All the Tea in China (8 page)

She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes momentarily. “I will be to rights in a moment,” she said.

I stood on tiptoes and craned my neck, anxious, I must admit, to proceed with our mission. Suppose we missed Mr. Snowe? I was certain that I could convince him of my earnestness—as well as my suitability—for mission work in the Far East.

Flora must have sensed my anxiety, for she patted my arm, smiling wanly. “If you want to go look for the proper ship, I will wait right here. You can come back for me. Perhaps you will even get a chance to talk to Mr. Snowe, and this foolishness will soon be over.”

“Thank you, Flora,” I said, relieved that she had given me permission to leave her. It was uncharacteristic of her, to say the least. Yet no one seemed to frequent this area, so I felt certain that she would be safe long enough for me to investigate the various ships and find Snowe. I would be safe as well, for I did not intend to waste time or risk my welfare by asking questions of anyone other than a ship’s officer. “May I leave my bag in your care so that it will not impede my progress?”

“Of course,” she said. “I will keep them both safe right here and not twitch a whisker until you have returned.”

“Will you be all right?”

Flora straightened. “I had three older brothers, Miss Isabella Goodrich, who taught me to care for myself. Now off with you!”

I gave her a final grateful smile, then headed toward the ships. Oh, what glorious works of man! Each one taller and larger than the rest. My head grew dizzy trying to look up at the top mast. Men scurried to and fro like ants on a hill, loading cargo. I knew that the East Indiamen often took on passengers such as Snowe and his group, so I was not surprised to see women, as well as men who were obviously not sailors.

More ships than I could count weighed anchor at the docks. I would never find Snowe this way. Scanning the crowds for someone who seemed trustworthy, I finally spied someone in uniform. A captain, perhaps? I knew nothing about naval dress or insignia.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said, feeling uneasy about speaking to a man without formal introduction. “I’m looking for a ship sailing to China.”

He smiled. “You have come to the right location, but as you can see there are many ships.”

I tried to keep the shock from my expression. Were all these ships embarking at the same time? “I am looking for an East Indiaman that is leaving today and—”

“Most likely you want
Dignity
, ma’am.”

Dignity? I knew it was not propitious to approach a stranger, but he was an officer. I hoped. “I . . . I beg your pardon?”

He pointed down the lane of ships. “The HMS
Dignity
. See the East Indiaman with the three masts in between the smaller vessels? She is the only ship sailing for China today that I am aware of.”

Good heavens. “Thank you,” I said. “You are most kind.”

“Not at all, miss.” He touched his cap then turned away. I looked back at where I had left Flora, wavering. Should I return for her or press on? Perhaps it would be best to make certain that this
Dignity
was, indeed, Snowe’s ship.

I pressed on.

The crowds grew thicker as I made my way down the dock. I heard language that made my ears pinken, but I held my head high and lifted my skirts just enough to keep them from being splashed by the standing water. Thankfully my adorable pink slippers were stowed safely in the bag with Flora.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I ran into Phineas Snowe without having to locate the ship and go aboard? I scanned the crowd for him, or at least another fellow missionary, but saw no one who looked likely.

Never did I imagine that ships could convey such grandeur and importance. Why, they were veritable countries unto themselves, it seemed, with sailors climbing the ropes to the dizzying height of the tallest masts, polishing and mopping the decks and their features, touching up the prows of the ships with a bit of fresh paint.

Why on earth were they dragging lowing cattle aboard? Poor Bossy. I should not like to be towed in such manner either, and I would put up just as much of a fuss were I an unwilling passenger!

I reached the gangplank and encountered someone who I felt certain was an officer, though perhaps a trifle young. He was decidedly not a captain! He gave commands in a voice that was still breaking with the change of youth, and I could see his resolve to act as a man in this role. “Excuse me, sir,” I ventured, hoping that the mature title would flatter him into helping me.

“Yes, what is it?” he barked, then, when he saw me, had the good grace to flush. “I beg your pardon, miss, but I am in a bit of a hurry. We are about to cast off.”

“Indeed?” I tried to quell the rising panic. Where was Phineas Snowe? “I am sorry to detain you, then, but I am looking for a . . . friend. I was supposed to meet him at the ship. Can you help me . . . Captain?” I blinked my eyes a little in what I hoped was a small bit of flirtation and flattery.

He reddened again, particularly when a nearby sailor stifled a hearty guffaw into a cough. “Miss, I regret for your sake that I am most certainly not the captain. Midshipman Bates at your service. Regarding your dilemma, however, I can tell you that most passengers do not board until Graves–end,” he said. “It saves them some time aboard ship, though with our long voyage, I can’t see that twenty miles makes much difference.” He tipped his hat again. “Begging your pardon again. Most likely your friend will be boarding there, or even at Deal, where we’ll await a good wind.”

“I see,” I said. “Thank you so much. I am quite sorry about the mistaken identity.”

He tipped his hat again, then, obviously suffering from civility’s restraint on my account, he snapped out another order to a sailor hefting a huge burlap bag.

Gravesend! How would Flora and I get there? We were rapidly running short of coinage. Why hadn’t I foreseen the need for a great deal of money? Flora and I would have to pool our intelligence and come up with a way to—

“That’s the last of the stock, sir,” a sailor said, saluting the midshipman.

“Very well, then, thank you, Mr. Green. I shall inform the captain that we are ready to shove off.”

Shove off? I had best remove myself from the ship before—

Oh, Providence, you are the answer to my bumble-bath! I did not stop to think of Flora’s reaction, for my only thought was in getting to Gravesend as easily as possible. The best way to find Phineas Snowe would be to meet him aboard ship, of course! When I did think of Flora a few fleeting moments later, I realized that her worry would only be for a short period. If necessary, I could retrace my steps from Gravesend to London (by carriage this time, naturally) and rejoin her
and
Uncle Toby.

There was, however, the small matter of the success of my journey from these docks to Gravesend. I had no ticket, and I did not think it likely that they would allow me to work my keep for the twenty-mile journey. I was confident that I could pull and coil rope as quickly and neatly as the sailors doing so at the moment, because fencing had made my arms and legs much stronger than was reputable for a young lady. But it would behoove me to find a hiding place until Gravesend. Surely there I could reveal my presence and be forgiven for my unlawful means of passage. I was, after all, on a mission.

Where to hide? Why, the last place anyone would expect to find a lady.

I headed in the direction I had seen the sailor take the last cow.

Thinking that I would have to skulk to be undetected, I crept behind all manner of woodwork and iron mongery, but the seamen were so busy at casting off that no one seemed to pay me any mind as I made my way to the lower deck.

Until someone clapped a meaty hand about my wrist. My alarm grew as I stared up into the visage of a most unsavory sailor, surely worthy of any pirate novel. “What are you doing, missy?” he said, jagged yellow teeth prominent behind his bared lips.

I forced myself to avert a swoon. “I spoke with Midshipman Bates just a moment ago.” There. That was not a lie.

He narrowed his eyes. “So you know where you’re to go?”

I nodded, fearing that any further words would betray my purpose.

He unhanded me. “Off with you, then. I’ve work to do.”

Alone again, I relieved myself of a sigh and continued my path. Where
were
those stairs?

At last I reached the lower deck, and aided by the sound of more than one poor bovine bellow, I found the stable area, if that is what it can be called. Cows were separated from hogs like some religious gathering, no, that was sheep separated from goats. No matter. The hogs grunted at me dubiously, but as I had no fear of cattle, I entered their stall and made myself at home.

No doubt it would be a while before anyone bothered to check on the poor creatures, so I settled in. I had no fear of the great beasts, as I had often insisted on helping the dairy man with his chores when I was a girl—much to his delight. Of course I had been forced to cease the practice once I attained the age of young lady, but I could not forget the warmth of a bovine flank nor the gratefulness of expression when the milking had concluded.

“Here now,” I said soothingly, rubbing the shoulder of one overly frightened Guernsey. “You will be cooped up for quite a while before you see true land again, I am sure, but you will be fed regularly and milked. Would you not like to be a Chinese cow? For that is where you are headed.”

Bossy stared at me with large brown eyes as if she understood. The other cows quieted too, but the pigs squealed uproariously.

“Traitors,” I mumbled. “Cowards.” I had never liked pigs. Loathsome, dirty brutes.

After I had tired of admiring the cows, which took all of twenty minutes, I found a tidy corner to sit in and began to consider my present predicament. Poor Flora must be watching and waiting for me. How could I leave her stranded at the dock that way?

Remorse set in with a vengeance. I braced my hand against the wooden rail to rise and was suddenly thrown back to the straw. The ship moved!

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” I muttered. “My decision is made. Again, Providence, I am sure.”

Though my heart felt resolved, I mourned Flora. In the unlikely event that my plan failed, our reunion would be all the sweeter and our laughter all the heartier. She would scold me for being impetuous, then we would be on good footing once again.

But surely my mission would not be deterred.

As the hours wore on, boredom sank in. I had the Chinese Gospel According to St. Luke tucked in my pocket to keep me company, and from my memory of some of the verses, I studied the characters as though deciphering a code. I was pleased to find several symbols repeated in several places. I could learn this language!

When I tired of this, I realized my stomach was rumbling. I had no notion of the time of day nor how I would ease my hunger pains. I weighed the prospect of venturing above deck in search of food, then realized that if I were found, I would no doubt be smartly put ashore at Gravesend, perhaps without ever seeing Snowe. I could not bear the thought of all my efforts ending in vain, so I ignored the rumblings and sang softly to myself.

At some point I realized that I faced danger of discovery on another front. Someone was bound to feed and water the cattle sometime, and then my presence would certainly become known.

“Perhaps if I feed you on occasion,” I murmured to the nearest cow, “anyone coming below deck to check on you will find you already fed and assume that someone else has seen to the task.” I paused. “Perhaps.”

It did seem to be a totty-headed scheme, but it was all I could concoct at the moment.

Surely I would be safe for today, so I would not worry about feeding the cattle until tomorrow. If only I knew for certain when that might be . . .

4

I dozed off and on, disoriented by the lack of sunlight or a timepiece. I had no notion what day it was or whether we were yet in England or Timbuktu. One thing of which I was certain: I knew with a certain smugness that I was not prone to seasickness as so many had recounted in literary works. I must be made of sterner stuff. That was altogether a good thing, since I would no doubt encounter a dreadfully long voyage to China.

Only one person had entered my hiding area, and I am not sure but that he took the wrong turn. I cowered behind a trough, but when he heard the cows moo, he uttered a curse and stamped loudly back up the stairs. To ensure that no one took me unawares while I slept, I remained behind the trough, cramped in an unnatural position with my limbs pulled to my chest and my arms tight around my knees.

At some point I awoke with a start and, after recollecting
my surroundings, realized that we were no longer moving.
I had grown quite accustomed to the gentle lull of the
water, the trampling of feet overhead, the various calls from one seaman to another. My stomach rumbled piteously,
like a kitten, no, make that a roar like a tiger, for I
had evidently missed many a meal. If we were stationary, I
thought, perhaps I should risk going aboveboard to gauge
my situation.

I stretched my arms and legs only to be greeted by immeasurable pain. How long I had been tucked into my womblike position, I knew not, but it was obvious that I must regain the use of my limbs before I could even fathom climbing the stairs. With the trough as support, I rose slowly, like Flora on a cold morning, and tried to work the cramp and stiffness from my body. When I felt a bit more to rights, I took stock of my other immediate needs, chief among them, water.

“I don’t suppose you have any to spare, do you?” I muttered to Bossy, who only stared back. She looked as though she could use something to drink herself. Did no one tend these poor—

Wait! She was a milk cow. The dairy man from my childhood had actually taught me the milking process. If I could find . . . yes, there was a bucket hanging on a hook near the stairs. “I would be most obliged if you would allow me to milk you,” I said soothingly to Bossy as I reached for the bucket. “I imagine it will do us both good, yes?”

I continued to croon to her softly as I arranged myself on a stool. Fortunately, she was as sweet as I imagined and stood placidly, barely twitching her tail as I milked her. When I had enough to last, I all but plunged my face into the pail and drank heartily.