The Captain's Pearl

The Captain's Pearl

A Novel

Jo Ann Ferguson

For Blanche Marriott
,

Who does so much for so many
.

Thanks for all you do and for being my friend
.

One

Canton, 1838

Bryce Trevarian was uneasy, and he did not like it.

He preferred to keep his life simple—hard work at sea, hard fun on shore. He enjoyed the thrill of fighting a storm that slashed through the canvas, or a good fight which left the imprint of his knuckles on another man's face. That made the perfect end for a long, wearying sea voyage. That was what he should have been looking forward to tonight.

This disturbing premonition had taunted him before. He knew better than to ignore it. What would happen tonight?

He looked along Hog Lane. On the busy street in the shadows of the warehouses along Canton's harbor, the garish lanterns and raucous calls from brothels and taverns did not match the tropical night sky. Rubbing his hand against his mustache, he decided he simply did not like things he could not understand.

And he did not understand why he was so damned uneasy!

Neither he nor his captain, Davis Catherwood, paused as they stepped over a drunken sailor lying in the road. Incense could not disguise the odors. Hog Lane was rowdy and disgusting and an affront to the Chinese who remained behind the walls of their city. There, they could avoid being contaminated by the
Yang Kuei-tzÅ­
, as they called Americans.

“Here?” asked Bryce, when Captain Catherwood halted by a low door.

“Why not?” Davis Catherwood was blond, a fact that had upset the Chinese almost as much as Bryce's green eyes had.

Bryce smiled as he recalled how, when he first arrived in Canton, the Chinese had been horrified. Finally a barkeeper had told him that the demons of the Buddhist hell had green eyes. In the years since, he had taken advantage of that superstition whenever he could.

“
T'ien t'ang
?” Bryce chuckled. “You want to go to a bar called Heaven, Captain?”

“Would you go in if
Ti yü
was written over the door? Don't answer. I know you would want to investigate any place named Hell and drink with Satan himself.”

“If he was buying.” Bryce shrugged aside the rice strands in the doorway. Sitting in a rickety chair, he watched the waiter, who wore his queue nearly to his waist, bow to each customer. “It's hard to believe this place will be empty next week.”

“I, for one, am glad to be finished loading the tea at Whampoa. It will be hard to make a profit this year.” Davis frowned at the man placing drinks in front of them. He grabbed the waiter's wrist. “This had better be untainted rum.”

The waiter's English was distorted by his thick accent. “Good rum. No first chop rum number one curio.”

Davis released him. A man could not be too careful here. Too many sailors had died from doctored drinks.

Picking up his glass, Bryce said, “Captain, you must convince your father to make a change.”

“And go where? Canton is the only city open to us.”

“A change in cargo. The Chinese are eager to trade with the British East India ships.”

“The Shadow Line won't deal in opium.”

“If we get as little in trade for our furs and ginseng next time, your father will be furious. Russell & Company from Connecticut is making tremendous profits in opium.”

Taking a slow drink, Davis mused, “They say opium is no worse than rum.”

“So—”

“Father insists the Shadow Line carries only legal cargoes.”

“Legal?” He snorted. “There is a fine line between legal and illegal here. If we paid the right bribes—”

“I tried to explain that, but Father was adamant.”

“He'll be out of business soon.”

Davis chuckled. “You'll feel differently when you are the captain of your own ship.”

Bryce smiled. Only Davis's father's request that Bryce stay with the
China Shadow
for this trip with Davis as the new captain had delayed Bryce from commanding a ship. He suspected he would have the
Pacific Shadow
. The second ship of the Shadow Line was not as splendid as the
China Shadow
, but it would be a good command.

Hearing a commotion, he looked up. His eyes widened as he saw a woman, actually two women, although one would have been considered little more than a girl back in Massachusetts. The older leaned heavily on her.

He glanced at the younger woman, and his eyes widened. The silk of her
ch 'eÅ­ng shaam
clung to her slender body, drawing his gaze along it in slow appreciation. Long strands of ebony hair swept down her back as she moved gracefully. She must not have had her feet bound. Only servants and prostitutes had unbound feet. Even girls destined to become concubines had their feet bound to keep them tiny. That, he suspected, was why the older woman needed to hold on to the girl. With her feet the size of an infant's, she would have a struggle to walk.

Bryce hooked a thumb toward the women. “That mama is starting her daughter late.”

“The evening has barely begun,” Davis replied.

“I meant late in life. Look at that girl.” He chuckled as the young woman tried to dodge a sailor's fingers. “She's embarrassed as only a virgin could be.”

“I'm surprised you remember that feeling.”

With a sigh, he picked up his rum. “You're right. It seems as if it's been a thousand years since I was that innocent.”

“Philosophical tonight, aren't you?”

“Just anxious to get out of Canton.” Bryce leaned back in his chair. The girl drew his eyes, although he was not sure why. In her simple
ch 'eÅ­ng shaam
with trousers beneath it, she looked like the other whores in Hog Lane. His gaze followed her curves that were accented by the close-fitting dress which rose to a high collar. Dammit! He did not need to be thinking about some inexperienced whore now. Motioning for a refill, he asked, “Are we stopping in Macao?”

As Davis began to outline their itinerary, Bryce bent toward him. Bryce would concentrate on the route that no one else must be privy to. That would keep him from wondering if the young harlot had a face as lovely as her body.

“Catherwood? Captain Catherwood of the
China Shadow
?”

Bryce cursed as he looked up to see the mama. His hand folded into a fist. He did not see her procurer. He was about to urge Davis to be cautious, but his eyes riveted again on the young woman beside the mama.

Why did she keep staring at the floor? He wanted to see her face. He ran his finger along her sleeve. Flinching, she clamped her arm behind her, but did not loosen her hold on the older woman. He smiled as he imagined touching more than her sleeve. Every muscle tightened along him as he thought of that silky hair brushing his skin.

“Are you Captain Catherwood?” asked the woman again. Her English was astonishingly free of an accent.

Davis answered, “Maybe. What do you want?”

“Are you the son of Samuel Catherwood?”

“Maybe.” He looked over his glass to see Bryce's reaction.

Bryce was listening, his brows, which were as dark as the woman's hair, lowered in a scowl. He said nothing, warning Davis to be as reticent.

“I have to know if you are Captain Davis Catherwood,” the woman insisted.

“Let's assume I am. What do you want?”

Bryce laughed coldly. “Isn't that obvious?”

Davis noted Bryce did not use his name. If Bryce was being circumspect … His eyes narrowed as he saw how Bryce was staring at the young woman. Bryce enjoyed lovely women as much as sailing the
China Shadow
. Once the older woman made her offer, which was sure to be aimed at lightening their pockets, he suspected Bryce would make an offer of his own to the younger woman. And be accepted. Women appreciated Bryce as much as he appreciated them.

“Captain Catherwood,” continued the older woman, her fingers touching a box she drew from beneath her full sleeves, “may I talk to you alone?”

Davis shook his head. “If you think I am stupid enough to go out where your friends are waiting to rob me, you have chosen the wrong man, mama.”

A strangled look of horror crossed her face. The young woman whispered something too low for Davis to understand. Not that he would have been able to translate it anyhow. He knew enough Cantonese to begin negotiations politely, nothing more.

“She wants to leave,” Bryce translated. “She says this is wrong.” He wound a strand of her hair around his finger. It was as lush and soft as he had hoped. “You are right,” he murmured in Cantonese. “This is wrong, but you do not need to leave yet, little one.”

When she gasped and tried to move away, he was astonished that the older woman told her to stay. Slowly the older woman unwound the strand before saying, “Captain Catherwood, I—”

“Say whatever you have to say and go,” Davis ordered.

Drawing the reluctant young woman forward, she kept her hand protectively on her arm. “Captain Catherwood, this is your sister.”

Davis's face went pale, then reddened. Bryce saw that before his eyes were caught by the younger woman's blue ones, as blue as Davis's, although their tilt was Asian. His breath caught when he saw her face for the first time. She was a delicate flower, ready to blossom. He would enjoy being the one to help her do that.

“My sister?” Davis choked.

At his captain's shocked question, Bryce tore his gaze from the young woman's beauty. He could not allow a pair of whores to bewitch him. He forced a taut laugh. “Sister?” He drained his glass. “Why don't you take your friend and find someone gullible enough to believe your lies?”

“Not lies.” The older woman turned to Davis. “When your father, Captain Samuel Catherwood, was here last, he was delayed in Canton. He did not come back, so I had no way of telling him that his daughter was born the following year.”

“Captain, are you going to listen to this humbug?” Bryce asked.

“This is the truth.” The old woman released the young woman's arm for the first time and set a box on the table.

It was a handmade box, carved on every side. Bryce recognized one scene from an old Chinese folk tale. When he saw the undeniable silhouette of a clipper, he swore under his breath.

“That's a Shadow ship,” Davis whispered.

“Captain,” Bryce cautioned.

Davis asked, “How do you know what a Shadow ship looks like? They never sail farther upriver than Whampoa.”

The older woman ran her finger along the carving and smiled. “Your father took me to see his glorious ship during its repairs. Even with its sails folded, it looked as powerful as a dragon.” Her finger paused over two English letters.

Bryce sucked in his breath as Davis gasped, “SC? Samuel Catherwood?”

“Your father,” the older woman said, “and the father of my daughter.”

“What is her name?”

“Lian,” she answered.

“Captain, don't—”

“Bryce, I want to hear what she has to say.”

“Why? She's lying!”

The older woman replied, “Sir, the truth is here in this thousand stories box.” Opening it, she pulled out a slip of paper covered with Chinese characters. “This tells the story of Lian's heritage from both the Ch'en and the Catherwood families.” She smiled. “This box contains a thousand stories of what has been and tales still untold.”

Davis stared at the box, then the young woman. “Does she speak English?”

With quiet dignity, the older woman said, “Lian has learned to speak the language of her father.”

“Is what she's saying true, Lian?”

In spite of her mother's assertion, she whispered in Cantonese, which Bryce translated: “Mother speaks the truth, honorable sir, as I know it, for I know nothing of what happened before my birth.”

Before Davis could answer, Bryce rose, forcing the women to move backward. “Captain, it is time to go.”

“Please, sir,” cried the older woman as Davis stood. “Please do not ignore your sister's plight.”

Davis looked again at the girl who kept her eyes lowered. Blue eyes. She had
blue eyes
. If the older woman was telling the truth …

“Tomorrow night we shall be here,” he said faintly, as he stared again at the box. That was a Shadow ship, and those were his father's initials, and he had seen a similar box back home in Massachusetts. Great-Aunt Tildy had told him that his father had made it during the long months while he waited for his ship to be repaired in China. Had Father made two?

“Honorable son of an honorable man, seek in your heart to know that I speak the truth.”

“Tomorrow night,” he repeated, before a tug on his arm reminded him of the dangers in promising even that. Grimly he smiled his thanks to his first mate as they strode out. The older woman called after him, but he did not turn. If he did and saw the lost look in her daughter's eyes again, he might do something he would regret.