"All the Tea in China" - читать интересную книгу автора (Orcutt Jane)

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.

The milk slaked my thirst and fortified my stomach. I scarcely noticed any aches or pains and indeed felt revived enough to see what was happening on the rest of the ship. Once I took stock of my rumpled dress and realized that my living quarters were much more fragrant than at first because of the cattle’s natural eliminations, I questioned my ability to mingle with any passengers who might have boarded. No doubt I was a bit more fragrant as well. I would have to be careful about returning to the main deck.

Signor Antonio had taught me to be a superior fencer, but his lessons had not included any espionage skills. I longed for them as I crept as quietly as possible up the stairs, poking my head through the hatch to the deck. The sun hit me square in the face, and its brilliance forced me to duck back a bit into the lower darkness. I had not realized that it was so easy to become unaccustomed to full light. I gave my eyes time to adjust, then, still shading them with my hand, I carefully ventured topside again.

Sailors scurried to and fro, and to my delight, I saw regular passengers now aboard. I should be able to blend in better.

I stared down at my dress, which was sadly rumpled and somewhat smudged from my time spent in the straw. If only I had foreseen the necessity of bringing my bag! Still, what I had left behind for Flora to guard, God would no doubt provide. I smoothed my dress as best I could and brushed at the dirt.

When I spied a group of passengers coming my way, I waited until they had just passed, then I scurried up the steps and onto the deck, blending in with their group. No one seemed to be the wiser, and hopefully Midshipman Bates, if he saw me, would think me merely reboarding.

My plan called on me to find Snowe, however, and soon. If he would vouch for me (and surely he would when he learned of my earnest desire), he could no doubt see to my accommodations and perhaps some new clothes. I hated to dispel any noble missionary thoughts, but the idea of a new frock and a comfortable bed for that night gave me the strength to proceed. Bossy’s milk had satisfied my growling stomach for the moment, but it would not last for long. Heaven help me, I desired meat.

I walked the length of the ship without detection, keeping a keen eye out for Snowe and his group. I did not know how long the ship would lay in harbor, but I did not want to miss him. I observed another group of passengers boarding, but they did not look familiar either.

I caught several glimpses of Midshipman Bates and stayed clear. No need to run into him unless necessary. I did see another, even younger midshipman-whose rank I recognized by an identical uniform to Bates’s-and stopped him. “I am sorry to detain you,” I said. “But I am looking for Phineas Snowe. Has he boarded yet?”

The young lad recoiled for a moment, his nose wrinkling. Then, as though remembering an elder’s admonition, he relaxed. “I believe he has, miss. I saw him near the cabins.”

I could have kissed the lad! “Thank you so much. You are doing a marvelous job, truly. I am certain you will be promoted as soon as possible.”

He flushed, touched his cap, then turned to more pressing matters. I turned heel and rushed toward what I hoped was the direction of the cabins. I took a set of stairs at the opposite end of the boat from the cattle and, just as I headed down them, whom should I run into but Phineas Snowe himself.

His eyes went wide. “Miss Goodrich!”

How odd. He was not wearing those horrid spectacles. “Mr. Snowe.” I curtsied.

He bowed stiffly. “What are you doing here?”

Under his cold eye and manner, the speech I had prepared fell apart on my lips. I clasped my hands to steady my nerves. “I… I have come to join your group. I want to go to China to serve in whatever capacity the Lord has prepared.”

He stared for a moment, then smiled as though speaking to a child. “Come, Miss Goodrich. The Orient is no place for a lady such as yourself. What could your uncle have been thinking to bring you as far as Gravesend? I trust he will see you safely back to Oxford.”

“But I came alone, Mr. Snowe. I knew that Uncle Toby would protest, but this is God’s plan for my future.”

Snowe’s face darkened, and I involuntarily stepped back. Without his spectacles, his eyes appeared opaque, his countenance more serious than I could have imagined. I had always thought him out of place somehow, but rather than being a step behind most people, he suddenly seemed to want to be two steps ahead. He almost seemed a different person.

“Foolish girl,” he mumbled, then reached into his pocket. “Here.” He pressed several coins into my hand. “This should see you back to Oxford. I am sorry if you misunderstood my attentions toward you. My purpose was to discuss my work with the mission, not to court you. You have no need to follow after me like a poodle.”

He compared me to a dog! I sputtered. “If I am a poodle, then you, sir, must be compared to a lady at court. For that is the human companion for such a breed.” I managed a laugh. “Upon my word, I believe that is quite insult enough… to the ladies at court.”

He drew a sharp breath. “Miss Goodrich, I have wasted enough time bandying with you. Have the goodness to take my money and leave this ship.”

“Your money, Mr. Snowe? Did you not manage to secure more than coach fare from my uncle?”

“He gave it to me for the mission.” He smiled. “Yet I believe I secured something from you as well. You cannot say that you did not enjoy my attentions while in Oxford. I am certain that it was quite a privilege for a bluestocking such as yourself to be treated so affably. Your… friend, I believe, Catherine Ransom all but begged me to entertain you at her party. She said that you were near starved for attention, and now I see that truer words were never spoken. As well, your uncle was so delighted to see you occupied with a man’s company that he was willing to contribute a great deal of money toward my work.”

I stood aghast. Cathy had not only schemed to throw Snowe and I together, she had asked him in advance to attend me. Uncle Toby, too, had not been interested in my opinion of Snowe’s mission, rather only that Snowe had shown me attention.

I was both the laughingstock and the pity of Oxford.

I clutched the coins in my palm until my nails cut into flesh. “I am sorry for the misunderstanding,” I said in a low voice. “I will leave at once.”

He bowed slightly, formal in his victory. “Have a safe journey. Rest assured that your uncle’s money will be of good use in China.”

Somehow I curtsied, dazed, and headed for the boarding area. I was conscious of activity around me, much scurrying and loading of passenger possessions, but I could only realize that my future was gone. I had believed it my calling to go to China, and now to find that not only that dream was shattered but my place in Oxford as well… No one would ever be able to pass me in the street without whispering, “There goes Isabella Goodrich, poor girl, the bluestocking. She claims she was destined to work at a mission in China, but it is said she was only interested in the missionary himself.”

I started down the gangplank, trying to force myself to think about how I would return home. First, I must find a coach to London. Once there, Flora-dear Flora!-would cosset me, let me weep, then together we would make our way to Oxford. Uncle Toby would love me, of course, and perhaps between the two of them and lessons with Signor Antonio, I could continue life within the walls of the university. Everything I needed could be found in books and-

No! I could not foresee such a life. Had I believed that God called me to a life of service or not? Would I give up on my dream only to return to a life of shame?

I turned and marched resolutely back up the gangplank. The young midshipman recognized me and smiled, my flattery apparently remembered. “May I help you, miss? The ship is leaving in just a moment. You are not a passenger, are you?”

I smiled, opening my clenched fist. “These coins belong to Mr. Snowe. I am such a goose that I forgot to give them to him. I will return them then disembark.”

He looked flustered, as though he had many duties that needed attention. Yet chivalry prevailed. “Perhaps I should go with you-”

“I know just where he is. I shan’t be a moment. No need to trouble yourself about me.” I waved a dismissive hand. “You have much more important things to think about, I am certain. You are a credit to East Indiamen everywhere, Mr…”

“Mr. Calow, miss.” He blushed under my praise. “Thank you, miss. Please hurry.”

I curtsied. “Thank you.”

I headed back toward the cabins, then when the midshipman’s back was turned, I reversed course and proceeded directly toward the cattle. I knew exactly where to hide.

Later I scolded myself for not having secured some food while I was above deck. Thankfully, Bossy seemed pleased to see me again, or rather, she did not object when I returned to my home in the straw. It appeared that someone had mucked out the area, for which I was grateful. I knew that someone would find me eventually, for it was foolish to think that I could make the voyage all the way to China without discovery. Following the biblical admonition to let tomorrow take care of itself, I determined merely to live through one day at a time. And perhaps to find some manner of securing food.

Once again I was plunged into darkness, with no notion of the passage of time. I could have been there a week or several hours. I tried to stay hidden as much as possible, cramped into the corner, but naturally I was forced to stand up and stretch on occasion, and even to move around. Bossy was obliging with her milk, even seeming to appreciate my relieving her of its burden.

“When we get to China, I shall see that you have only the finest of pastureland,” I solemnly promised her. “You have been a faithful companion when everyone else has forsaken me.”

Even as I spoke the words, I knew them to be untrue. As hunger and (evidently) time wore at me, I had visions of Uncle Toby and Flora grieving for me, and regret gnawed at my empty innards. Had my impulsive nature been not only my undoing but theirs as well? I was not selfish enough to believe that I was the center of their worlds, but I knew that I shared a goodly portion of them. No doubt my unexplained absence had rent a tear in the fabric of their lives.

Light-headedness came and went in a manner that soon not even the consumption of milk could ease. I found myself little able to move and huddled in my corner. To make matters worse, I realized that I had quite misjudged my immunity to the effects of a ship upon water. Evidently the journey from London to Gravesend on the Thames was no match for an ocean voyage, for I soon realized the ship swayed and rocked in a manner that could only indicate we had encountered a good wind and were out to sea. At first it was only a mild annoyance, but soon full mal de mer overcame me, and I retched more than once into the straw.

Surely it was days that I lay nearly immobile, hardly caring if-and indeed close to praying that-the ship might be struck calamitous and all aboard drown. God must be sorely testing me, I could only reason, or perhaps, like Jonah, my foolishness was bringing ill fortune to all aboard. I could not be the only one to suffer from the ship’s lurching back and forth, up and down, back and forth…

At some point I knew instinctively that I was near death. Having been raised in the Church of England, I did not, of course, believe in Last Rites, but I tried to confess my sins, not the least of which was an apparent misunderstanding of God’s purpose for my life. As I lay in the straw, something hovered over me, and I determined that it was either Bossy or the angels come to take me to heaven. I felt myself lifted from the straw, and I was helpless to resist.

“I am… sorry… for my foolishness,” I mumbled, in case they were, indeed, celestial beings. I did not want to enter the presence of the Almighty without having offered one final, blanket apology.

“We all are,” the being muttered in response.

To my surprise, I came slowly to a conscious realization that I still walked among the living. Walked being a fanciful word, however, as I could no more walk than sit up at the moment. My limbs felt weighted, but the ship no longer seemed to lurch underneath me like a wild stallion. I felt a gentle sway, however, and realized I was in a hammock.

I endeavored to force my eyes open and received a blurry impression of a rather cramped cabin and Phineas Snowe lying in a hammock on the other side. Obviously I had been mistaken, for I was not in heaven but instead in Hades.

“Wha… wha…” I mumbled, trying to speak but sounding like a babe.

He was at my side. “Miss Goodrich, can you hear me?”

I nodded. If Snowe was the devil, I did not want to speak. Even if I could.

“I am glad that you are all right. Do you think you could tolerate some broth?”

I listened to my stomach. Yes, it seemed to say. Broth would be better than milk. Indeed, the sooner the better.

I nodded.

“Good. I’ll have some brought to you.” He headed toward what must be the door, then turned. “I know you will recover at your own rate, but it is imperative that you understand this now. For purposes of this voyage, you are my sister. Is that clear?”

I would not speak even if I were able. His sister?

He approached me, his eyes burning. “Is that clear, Miss Goodrich?” The tone of his voice indicated he would brook no deviation from an affirmative answer.

In my weakened state, I had no choice but to agree. At that moment, I could only think about the impending bowl of broth, and somehow I sensed it might be withheld were I to cross Phineas Snowe.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Before he could leave the room, I closed my eyes in resignation and slept like one dead.

The next thing I knew, I was fully awake. Not dragged from sleep against my will, but a willing, nay, eager participant. My return from death’s lair was no doubt a miracle, and I said a hasty prayer of thanks.

Once finished, I took stock of my current situation. I had not dreamed the crowded cabin nor my hammock bed, as I had supposed, but found them to be reality. If such was the case, then I could only assume that Snowe’s insistence that I call him brother must be reality as well. Or at least his version of it.

Besides the two hammocks lining opposite walls was a large trunk I assumed to be Phineas’s on his side and a wooden crate on mine. I was also fortunate, I suppose, to have a porthole, which was partially open. A gentle sun streamed through, and I caught a glimpse of blue sky. I could smell brine and hear water lapping against the ship.

Physically, I seemed to be mostly to rights, though I felt as weak as a newborn calf. I could not remember if Snowe ever procured the promised broth, but my stomach allowed that it was doubtful, for such a rumbling could only signify its emptiness. I could not remember the last meal I had eaten, somewhere back in Oxford, I believed. Heaven only knew how long ago that was.

Though I lay covered with a thick blanket, I had been divested of my muslin dress in favor of some sort of night dress. I blushed to think that Snowe had anything to do with that, though common sense told me otherwise. After all, where would he have procured such? He was an odd man, but surely not one given to the possession of ladies’ night clothes.

The door opened, and though I expected Snowe, a buxom brunette in the most adorable green satin dress smiled at me. It seemed to me somehow to be daytime, and the dress seemed a trifle too fancy to wear before dusk. The way it rode about her person also did not speak to the fashion of society but of something else.

“So you live, after all,” she said. “Phineas said so, though I thought it simply one of his fanciful notions.” She laughed, and despite her attire, she seemed to be void of malice, at least toward me. Something familiar rested in the way she moved, the flutter of her hands, the sharpness of her features, but I could not recall.

I thought it wise to be agreeable, so I smiled. Her eyes connected with mine as though we shared a secret, and my memory was restored. Though previously she had worn a nondescript brown dress with a faded gray pelisse, there was no disguising her plainness of face nor sharpness of eyes. She was the missionary in Phineas Snowe’s group who had accompanied us to feed the poor.

“You are Julia Whipple,” I said.

She nodded. “I look a bit different now, I suppose.”

“Why, yes.” It would be impolite to inquire, but I wondered if there were some missionary rule about saving one’s finest clothes for travel.

She gestured at the clothing she wore. “Fortunately for you, I brought those horrid things with me on the trip. Along with that nightgown you’re wearing.”

It was not the height of fashion to be sure, but it seemed a perfectly decent nightgown. “What happened to my dress?”

She shrugged. “I tried to wash it as best as I could, but I don’t know as you’ll want to wear it again.” She paused. “You’ve a lot of gumption in you, I’ll say that. I pegged you as a lady, but I wouldn’t have dreamed you’d be able to hide for so long in a cow stall.”

“How long was I there?”

“Three days since we left England before you were discovered.”

“I thought it was angels who attended me.”

Julia laughed. “It was a sailor sent to muck the stalls. Fortunately for you, one of those young officers was with him, and he connected you with Phineas right away. Snowe accepted the blame for your presence and had you brought to his cabin.”

Despite my previous anger at him, I felt a flush of gratitude. “I hope he was not chastised unduly for my behavior.”

“Another time the captain might have been angered, but your weakened state made your welfare everyone’s primary concern. But the ship’s doctor pronounced that a decent rest and some food should revive you. Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” I said.

“Then I’ll bring you some broth and let Phineas and the captain know that you’re awake.”

While I awaited her return, I pondered over the fact that she constantly called Snowe by his first name, a behavior that was most unseemly in polite society. Even if they worked the same mission field in the Far East, she should certainly follow conventional address.

I greedily ate the broth that Miss Whipple brought and felt quite revived. I felt even more so after she brought a bowl of water and a cloth so that I could clean myself. When I grew faint, she whisked the bowl from my hands and set about wiping my face and arms herself. At last she smiled at me, giving the tip of my nose a little swipe as though I were a child. “That’s enough for today, Miss Goodrich. We’ve a long voyage ahead of us and plenty of time for cleaning away the grime.”

She set the bowl on a small table, her movements steady and sure as she wrung water from the cloth. She was obviously accustomed to service work, for none of my Oxford friends-except Flora, of course-would have managed with such efficiency. Cathy would have giggled and avowed that she knew nothing of cleaning or bathing an invalid.

“Your service must be needed greatly in China,” I said.

Miss Whipple set the cloth in the bowl and turned toward me. “I hope so.”

“Have you ever been there before?”

She shook her head.

“But you have done charitable work in England? London, perhaps? I do not believe I have seen you in Oxford before that day I joined you and Mr. Snowe.”

“Yes, I have been in London. If I lived in your hometown, I daresay you would not have ever made my acquaintance, though.”

My conscience pricked. I had not always been a doer of charitable deeds, but surely she did not believe I would ever turn up my nose at more faithful servants. “I should have been glad to meet you,” I said. “I have a notion that we would have gotten along splendidly.”

She looked at me curiously for a moment, then burst into a smile. “You truly don’t know, do you?”

I cocked my head, puzzled.

A knock sounded at the door, then who should enter but Phineas Snowe. “There you are,” Miss Whipple said. “You can see that our patient is much improved. Her complexion seems to have more of a pinkish hue.”

Snowe looked at me solemnly, then approached. Wood creaking, the ship listed a trifle, and the bowl of water nearly slid to the floor but for Snowe’s quick catch. His movement reminded me of a cat, but he replaced the bowl on the table without a moment’s hesitation. When he turned back to me, his eyes were unfathomable. “As you can see, Miss Goodrich, life onboard a ship is not for the faint of heart.”

Miss Whipple laughed. “I think she did fine by herself these past days, Phineas. No need to give the girl a lecture.”

He frowned at her. “She could have spoilt everything and caused our delay. We will be fortunate not to incur the captain’s wrath as it is.”

“I’m sure you can explain it satisfactorily… if you haven’t already.”

“I’ve done my best. The rest is dependent on fortune. And Miss Goodrich’s cooperation, of course.”

“I am sorry for the trouble I have caused,” I said, eager to put their minds at rest. “If I had not been so convinced of the rightness of my actions, I would not have undertaken to come aboard.”

“You are a stowaway, Miss Goodrich. There can be no rightness in that.”

I lowered my eyes. “I understand, Mr. Snowe. It is not a good way for a missionary to begin her life’s calling.”

He stared at me a moment as though seeing me for the first time. “Then you truly believe that you are to be a missionary? That is why you followed me to the Dignity?”

I nodded. He was abominably full of himself-believing that I followed him because he had courted me, indeed!- but he was still a man of the cloth. “Serving alongside you and Miss Whipple among the poor in Oxford convinced me of my calling. I do not seek a husband, as you supposed, but a life of service.”

Snowe looked to Miss Whipple as though for help. She crossed her arms and smiled. “She wants to join us in China,” she said.

“You know very well that is not possible,” he said to her.

“But why?” I asked, bewildered that I was summarily dismissed from the conversation. “Surely you have seen that I am resourceful. Despite my upbringing, I am not afraid of hard work. I am also most learned. I can read the Bible in Greek and Hebrew, I speak several languages, and I even brought the Gospel According to St. Luke in Chinese that you gave me, Mr. Snowe. I am certain that if Miss Whipple is willing to serve, that I can accomplish the same.”

“I believe she means it, Phineas,” she said.

He glared at her. “Julia, why don’t you remove the bowl of water from this cabin. I will speak to Miss Goodrich alone.”

Still grinning, she retrieved the bowl and held it against her hip, water splashing her green satin dress. “What are you going to tell her?”

He glared at her again, and she retreated for the door, laughing. When she was gone, he turned to me. “Miss Goodrich, your decision to follow me was most ill-advised. I am certain that your uncle must be heartsick.”

At the mention of Uncle Toby, my own heart felt ill. “I left him a note explaining my intentions. He will know that I am in your good care since he approved of your work. You have already shown me great kindness by bringing me to restored health.”

“Nevertheless-”

“Though why you wanted me to agree to your ruse that we are brother and sister is yet unclear. As I seem to have more of my wits about me than the last time we spoke of the matter, please explain.”

“You are aware that this is an East Indiaman-a ship belonging to the East India Company?”

I nodded.

“Then you are also aware that it is populated primarily by sailors.”

I clasped my hands. “You have only managed to state the obvious, Mr. Snowe. I assure you that I can handle much more information and certainly in a more timely fashion. I fear that we may be in China soon at the rate you are explaining yourself.”

He raised a brow over one dark brown eye. Where had the spectacles gone to? “You prize directness, do you?”

“Yes, and I-”

He took a step closer. “Then let me be perfectly frank. I will have you put off this ship at the first available opportunity. Until that time, the sailors will be eyeing any unattached female, some with courtesy but some with less than Christian thoughts. Perhaps backed by less than Christian deeds, as well.”

I thought of the sailor I had met when I boarded and nodded.

“I have explained your presence as my sister so that I may see to your safety. They will respect you if they believe us related.”

“And what of Miss Whipple? Will they respect her too?”

His eyes leveled with mine. “Julia Whipple does not seek their respect. Only their coins. At least once we reach China.”

“I do not understand.”

“Julia is going to China for one reason only.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “She hopes to set up trade with the Englishmen working in Macao.”

“Then she is quite enterprising. A tradeswoman! Such a thing is practically unheard of in England. Is it easier in China for a woman to do so?”

“No easier than in England. She is involved in the trade at which women naturally excel.”

Understanding dawned in a rush. “Oh!” I felt my face warm. “I… I understand now. But you… surely you do not approve? Why do you sponsor her?”

He paced a few steps, hands still behind his back. “She cannot have a good life in London as she was not born into society. I hoped that a change of continents might precipitate good fortune for her. Women, decent or otherwise, are in short supply in China, and who knows but that one of East India’s finest might seek her hand. In the meantime, she helped me in my endeavor, and I with hers. It was a suitable arrangement.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “But nothing more?”

He ceased pacing, standing directly in my line of sight. “It is you, Miss Goodrich, who is ensconced in my cabin. Not Julia Whipple.”