The East Indiaman Read online

  ‘You excite me, William,’ Sarah breathed, kissing him, but there was a cough and the steward wished to enter and complete the laying of the table that he had suspended while his mistress dressed and Kite, detaching himself from Sarah, waved him in and turned to complete his own toilet.

  The dinner passed off well and by ten o’clock the company was in mellow mood and went on deck to take the air while the cabin table was cleared and the beds prepared. Harper had been attentive to Nisha and she had glowed in his regard, so that Kite sensed Sarah’s assessment might have been correct. Certainly Zachariah’s appetites were aroused and on deck Sarah drew Kite aside.

  ‘We should leave them,’ she whispered, ‘give them the opportunity of going below before us, if they so wish.’

  ‘You would have them paired then, would you?’ Kite asked, amused by his wife’s intrigue.

  ‘What harm is there in it?’ she asked.

  Kite shrugged. ‘None, unless I am to bear the additional burden of a bastard upon that of a widow.’

  ‘William! You are outrageous. If I am not mistaken Nisha,’ Sarah paused and then said, ‘do you not think how much nicer it is to call her that than “Rose”?’

  ‘Indeed, but as you were saying,’ Kite prompted, uneasy at references to Nisha’s imposed name which brought Puella into his mind.

  ‘If I am not mistaken,’ Sarah continued, ‘Nisha will know ways of avoiding impregnation.’

  ‘Is this some oriental skill?’

  ‘Well, William,’ said Sarah obliquely, suddenly darker in her mood, ‘we have no children of our own.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed flatly.

  Sarah looked forward. With half the schooner’s company ashore, only a fraction of the watch remained on deck and they were hunkered down forward, out of sight. Then she looked aft. As she had hoped Harper and Nisha were embracing. She turned to her husband, put her arms about him and thrust herself against him. ‘Come, sir,’ she whispered into his ear, ‘the night is warm and lovely and I would have you take these heavy clothes from me.’

  Kite felt the languor of the night air and the heavy, concupiscent pressure of Sarah’s body against his own rising tumescence. ‘They are going below, my darling. Let us follow them…’

  As they entered their half of the bisected cabin the grunts of urgent coition were clearly audible through the flimsy bulkhead. Detaching herself with a giggle, Sarah tore at her stays and Kite undressed, blowing the lantern out and watching as his wife spread herself in the soft starlight that came in through the stern windows. A moment later he felt the moist comfort of Sarah surround his questing prick and then, as she arched her back and he bent to kiss the moving globes of her breasts, he drove home in a frenzy of passion from which they both fell back content.

  In the darkness, as their hearts stilled, they became aware of a complementary quiet beyond the partition. Then, as they lay side by side and hand in hand, they heard a revival of passion. Sarah, propping herself on one elbow, her hair falling down over Kite’s chest, looked down at him.

  ‘You have left me alone too much lately, William. I understand your preoccupations, but it is not good that we should be so distant.’

  Kite sighed. ‘It is difficult, Sarah. The schooner requires my constant attention and I have only Harper to support me. Perhaps, if I had another officer, it might be different, but I do not see what I can do about that now. Perhaps you will have to be patient a little longer. I am sorry,’ he added as Sarah lay back and stared at the pale rectangle of the deckhead above. He could understand her annoyance, but it was unlike her to be peevish. ‘I am truly sorry,’ he repeated, ‘truly.’

  Sarah sighed. ‘I understand,’ she said. There was a long silence, then she added in a whisper as, next door, the sounds of culminating and frantic passion rose, ‘you see my dear, Nisha and I have taken pleasure of one another.’ But there was no response from the man beside her. Kite was already asleep.

  The opium arrived as promised and coincided with the return of the starboard watch from their debauchery. ‘Good God Almighty,’ Harper groaned, ‘we shall have need of a physician before a sennight is past.’ Harper looked with unfeigned disgust at the exhausted human wreckage that clambered wearily over the rail from the cluster of bumboats that gathered around Spitfire’s sides. He was a man in love, spiritually elevated and contemptuous of the grubby effects of the lust of his shipmates. Moreover, his new intimacy with Nisha had admitted him to his commander’s counsels. It had been impossible to disguise the fact that he had slept with the Indian widow the morning following the dinner, and Kite had taken him to one side later that forenoon.

  ‘Zachariah,’ Kite had said as the two men stood aft, their shirts fluttering in the cool monsoon and leaning upon the taffrail as they stared forward. The schooner’s people had been stood down from all but essential duties, the larboard watch to sleep off their excesses, the starboard to prepare for their own. As a consequence the upper deck was a scene of men squatting down and washing, sewing and generally making good their shore-going clothes. No-one took any notice of the commander and mate as they chatted amicably aft.

  ‘Zachariah, I would not have you misunderstand me and I have no objection to your liaison with the Widow Hooker, but I must consider the situation. At the present time she inhabits a disproportionate amount of the after accommodation. It would not be good for discipline if your involvement was seen to be sanctioned by me and while I doubt you can keep it a secret from the people, I must not be seen to condone it or your privilege will be seen as over-weening. Unkind though it may seem, do you take my point, Zachariah? Now is not the time for conspicuous self-indulgence.’

  Harper nodded. ‘I understand, Cap’n.’

  ‘Moreover, there are only the two of us, notwithstanding McClusky’s growing competence, and we are to undertake a perilous enough passage without charts or real knowledge beyond what Rahman can provide us with. I would not have you unduly distracted.’

  ‘I understand all that, Cap’n, but the lady may have certain expectations.’

  Kite grinned. ‘I know you able to satisfy the lady, Zachariah, you make enough noise about it!’

  ‘I do? Good God, I never thought of it…’ Harper blushed.

  ‘I intend to knock down the bulkhead and to curtain off a corner for Nisha who will otherwise join Sarah and myself. It will thwart your passion but may make it clearer to her that things must change, a change for which I will be to blame, not you. You may take your pleasure as you will, Sarah is sensitive enough to the matter not to embarrass you.’

  ‘I’m obliged to you both,’ Harper said wryly.

  ‘And what the crew know they will assume is at my expense. It will keep the lid on the affair, but you may lose some respect if you are having what they desire.’

  Harper laughed. ‘Most of them will be pissing through colanders by the end of the month, mark my words.’

  ‘Whores have their own means of protection, Zachariah, they want the pox no more than their customers.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Cap’n, but I’d not lay money on it, if I were you.’

  ‘Well, we shall see. Now as to this opium…’ And they fell to discussing the stowage of the chests of opium which was just then coming alongside in a round-sterned mashwa on the deck of which Muckbul Ali Rahman stood, a bundle beside him.

  ‘Rahman’s come to join us,’ Kite remarked.

  ‘Couldn’t he keep a watch?’ Harper asked suddenly.

  Kite looked at the mate. ‘That is a very practical notion, Zachariah,’ he replied enthusiastically. ‘He and McClusky could both stand a watch alongside us for a week or two, until we have confidence in them.’

  ‘Aye, and if you have McClusky,’ Harper added, ‘you could stand down altogether, so that you were simply on call during his duty period. I’ll have Rahman and soon tell you if he can handle the vessel.’

  Kite took but a moment to make his decision. ‘A capital idea, Zachariah, be so good as to put arrangements i
n train!’

  Harper went forward as Rahman scrambled over the rail to dump his bundled chattels on deck before he came aft.

  ‘I am reporting on board, Kite Sahib.’

  ‘Very well, Mister Rahman, you are most welcome. Mr Harper, the mate will acquaint you of your accommodation but first there is one other matter that troubles me.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘I have no charts of the Bay of Bengal, the Strait of Malacca or the China Sea.’

  ‘Ah, it is possible that I could obtain for Kite Sahib good copies of Dalrymple’s folios but, Kite Sahib,’ Rahman said, rolling his head with an expression of great regret, ‘these are expensive.’

  ‘They are stolen?’

  ‘Oh, not stolen, Sahib, they are copied.’

  ‘But how accurately copied?’

  ‘Very good copies, and also they are coming with tables of courses and distances, the establishment of the several ports and fixed positions of important places with up-to-date modifications by other Company officers like Commander Joseph Huddart.’ Rahman paused. ‘Kite Sahib will not be disappointed.’

  ‘How much?’

  Late that forenoon a smartly pulled gig approached in which a young writer from the castle leapt aboard, asking for the Spitfire’s commander. While he was waiting for Kite to come on deck he stared curiously about him and Kite, emerging from the companionway under its awning, formed the distinct impression that the young man was doing a little more than satisfy his curiosity.

  ‘We mount twelve long guns, sir, if you are interested.’ The writer turned with a start and flushed deeply, proving Kite’s suspicion was not misplaced. ‘Including a pair of six-pounder chase guns forward,’ he added with a smile, ‘though some are struck into the hold.’

  ‘I…I was simply curious, sir, not being a sea-officer myself.’

  ‘Of course,’ Kite said reasonably. ‘And what, pray, can I do for you?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ the young man was certainly rattled, Kite thought, amused at the other’s discomfiture. ‘I have this for you, Captain Kite. I was instructed to await your reply.’

  Kite tore open the note. It was from President Cranbrooke. The chief factor requested the pleasure of Captain and Mrs Kite at dinner that evening.

  ‘Hmm,’ remarked Kite to Sarah after he had sent the writer off with an acceptance, ‘I should very much like to have snubbed Cranbrooke on the pretext that we must sail immediately.’

  ‘Oh, William… it will be most diverting and,’ Sarah added as though inspired, ‘it will give Zachariah and Nisha a little privacy.’

  ‘Before that damned bulkhead comes down. Oh you may have your own way. You have had little enough diversion in recent months, so I have accepted, though I suspect Cranbrooke only wishes to ogle you my dear.’

  ‘Then we should give him something to ogle,’ Sarah said with a gleam in her eye.

  Kite grunted. ‘I expect Captain Grindley may well be there too,’ Kite added, thinking of the espionage carried out on the deck above. He had watched the young man reboard his boat and, though it might be true that he was no sea-officer, he had been very familiar with boats. ‘Indeed it occurs to me that there may be some more sinister purpose designed to detain us further from sailing, possibly to compromise us, so you must beware of what you eat and drink.’

  ‘You are being dramatic, surely?’ Sarah said, intrigued.

  ‘Nevertheless, do as I ask. Only eat and drink what is eaten or drunk by others. I am going to pass word that we shall weigh before dawn and slip out to sea when they think we are still sleeping off our excesses.’

  And with that Kite returned to the deck and spoke to Harper. When he had kindled a lustful gleam in the mate’s eye he said, ‘I wonder if we have done right in leaving half our armament in the hold, Zachariah?’

  Harper scratched his head. ‘Well, Cap’n, six guns and their carriages come to over four tons and if we’re running that’ll enable us to carry canvas. If we’re attacking or being attacked by something our own size, I reckon we’ve enough weight of metal to prevail over such as these native craft appear to be. Besides, it’ll be rate of fire that counts, and we can serve the smaller number of guns better in my opinion.’

  Kite nodded. ‘Very well. Let’s hope you are right.’ They were briefly silent, looking along the deck of the Spitfire, their eyes seeking out any last-minute tasks to be undertaken before their departure. ‘Well, have the hands mustered to weigh at midnight, Zachariah, if Rahman is back by then with the charts he has promised to purchase for me.’

  ‘Aye, aye, but what if he isn’t?’

  ‘Then we’ll have to wait for him.’

  The boat dropped them off at the landing place and Kite handed Sarah out with a feeling of considerable pride and satisfaction. She looked stunning in a blue and white striped silk gown and her long hair loosely piled atop her head. She wore a broad-brimmed hat with a long curling ostrich feather that had somehow survived the vicissitudes of their voyage. So infrequently had she worn such feminine attire that, with her grace and beauty, the effect was overwhelming and, as they were announced, Mrs Kite turned several heads among the dozen people invited to dine.

  Cranbrooke appeared to live in bachelor state, but several of the Company’s senior writers had their wives with them among which were two Indian women, glorious in their brilliant dresses, shot with gold and bejewelled and bangled in exotic state. Two officers of the Company’s sepoy regiments gloried in their scarlet and white, resplendent popinjays whose skin was almost as rubicund as their coats. As Kite had predicted, Grindley was in attendance. He was unaccompanied, dressed in the full panoply of a Commander in the Honourable East India Company’s service and immediately attentive to Mistress Kite. Used to having passengers in his ship, Grindley was able to deploy a certain urbane charm though, as Sarah was detached from him, Kite was aware that even as he took her arm, Sarah was repelled by his darting tongue and wet lip. Kite was glad he had warned Sarah to be careful, as she was swiftly surrounded by several of the young, unattached writers.

  Cranbrooke monopolised Kite, introducing him to a second Company Commander, a Captain Robert Harling.

  ‘Captain Kite is sailing for China, Harling, with a cargo of opium.’

  ‘Are you indeed,’ Harling said, raising his eyebrows. ‘have you ventured there before?’

  Kite shook his head. ‘No, I have not.’

  ‘But you are embarking a pilot.’

  ‘He has engaged Ali Rahman, d’you know him?’ Cranbrooke said.

  Harling shook his head. ‘Well, good fortune, Captain Kite. You must not expect any assistance from the Company if you run foul of the Mandarins.’

  ‘I have learned to expect help from no-one, Captain Harling,’ Kite said, meeting the disapproval in the sea-officer’s eyes. ‘One is so frequently let down.’

  ‘But you are going to rely upon a pilot. There is an element of trust there, surely.’

  ‘I may not be familiar with the China Seas, gentlemen, and you may wish to dissuade me, but needs must when the devil drives the chaise.’

  ‘Well, well,’ Cranbrooke said, but their conversation was terminated as a last guest was announced and Cavanagh arrived. On his arm was a tall Indian woman. ‘Ah,’ remarked Cranbrooke, ‘here’s Cavanagh, we shall go in.’

  The dinner was dull, both in its content and its accompanying conversation. The Company’s servants knew each other too well and shared to many experiences to make the latter anything but a tedious rodomontade of local gossip to which Kite and Sarah were not party. As for the dishes, these were all so excessively spiced that Kite found himself tempted to drink too much and at one point caught Sarah’s eye, sensing she too was finding the occasion an ordeal.

  When the women withdrew, the men’s conversation degenerated to salacious stories and Kite was aware that most were drunk. Only Cranbrooke, Harling and himself seemed in control of themselves. Grindley appeared the worse for drink and at one point it was clear that he was making
some indecent comment about Sarah, for the two young writers with whom he was lolling with his cheroot and his glass of arak, shot glances in Kite’s direction. One was the young man who had taken a look round Spitfire’s deck that afternoon and again, he flushed with embarrassment as he felt Kite’s gaze upon him.

  ‘I hope you told Captain Grindley what he wished to know about my schooner, sir,’ Kite said across the table so that a silence fell and Grindley, hearing his name, turned towards the man he was insulting.

  But drink had made the young writer less intimidated than he had been that afternoon and he replied boldly, ‘I have no idea to what you refer.’

  ‘Perhaps I am mistaken,’ Kite said, smiling with charming dissimulation, ‘but it seemed to me that you evinced a more-than-natural curiosity in my vessel. You have not seen such a schooner before, no doubt. She is north American-built and tolerably fast.’

  ‘Is that so, Captain Kite,’ Grindley said, ‘well she will have to be fast. You are a damned interloper, sir…’

  ‘Come, come, gentlemen,’ Cranbrooke broke in, ‘Captain Kite is a guest among us. He has not broken any laws…’

  ‘No, but he is no gentleman…’ Grindley interrupted, his croaking voice insinuatingly unpleasant.

  ‘Grindley, mind your tongue,’ Harling rumbled the caution to his fellow commander, and Cranbrooke muttered, ‘I’m sorry about this, Kite.’

  ‘It is of no consequence, but thank you,’ Kite acknowledged the president’s apology then raised his voice, ‘but I agree with Captain Grindley.’ He smiled again, aware that he had their attention. ‘I am certainly not a gentleman, gentlemen, if to be a gentleman requires one to drink too much and make lewd remarks about a guest’s wife.’

  Confused by the proliferations of social status in Kite’ assertion, Grindley nevertheless realised he was being guyed. He went a deep purple while a smirk played on the faces of the young men with whom he had shared his confidences. ‘What are you implying, Kite?’