by V. E. Ulett
“Vat?” Anna crossed her arms under her bosom. “Me, I am staying put.”
Though he’d never spoken Malay on his quarterdeck, Maximus turned to the women and put the same tone of command he was accustomed to use there into his voice. “We will keep within your sight, ladies, I assure you. Seat yourselves in these two boats and we shall all depart directly.”
Maximus left the pack of them behind, allowing Miriam to lead him up the beach. Most of the women began taking seats in the cutter, preferring handsome Mr. Dashwood to Saramago and the ill-favored crew of the gig.
In the anxious days of separation, Maximus half convinced himself he was not to see Miriam again. He was arranging his emotions beforehand, in the way of the Service, for the loss of brother officers and valued friends. Maximus’s heart was aglow walking behind her and gazing on her straight back, the elegant way she moved, and on her luxurious long dark hair. His great good fortune and the circumstances under which he might next see her like this, with her hair down, occurred to him and moved Maximus deeply. Persian poetry rose to his mind.
Was ever woman mistress of thy soul?
When joy has thrilled through every glowing nerve,
Hadst thou no wish that feeling to preserve?
Does not a woman’s love delight, entrance,
And every blessing fortune yields enhance?
Such was Maximus’s state of mind when Miriam halted and turned to him, and he feared his voice would come out a squeak. Then he took in her bruised face and cried, “Miriam m’dear! Who has been abusing you? Was it that black Amazon savage?”
A surprised expression passed over Miriam’s face, and then—what he disliked of all things—an admonishing look came into her eyes. “Of course not, we could not pray together and stand side by side if that were the case. But do you think Krunk is Amazonian? Oh! Max...Captain Thorpe, I have so much to tell you.”
“I wish you would, but first...May I?” he held out his arms and hoped, almost closing his eyes.
Miriam walked right into them, and lay her head on his chest. Maximus closed his arms gratefully round her.
“God is Merciful,” she said. “You don’t know how I prayed the exit strategy would succeed.”
“We saw the signal from twenty-five leagues away. You must not make too much of how well Saramago’s scarves worked. It will be going to his head.”
She laughed a little and stepped away from him with a self-conscious glance toward the boats, where instantly many heads turned in another direction.
Maximus searched for the pretty speech he’d meant to make. But seeing him gazing stupidly at her, Miriam piped up. “It was the Golden Dragon did this to me, hit me, terrorized me, but in the end...You are not to look at me with such pity in your eyes, sir, I was not violated. I shall say that to you plain. Others,” Miriam cut her eyes at the group of women in the boats, “suffered far worse treatment.”
“The Golden Dragon is no ship, you will be telling me?”
“Not a ship, no. An evil power-mad little woman sitting on the next island over, poised at the center of her web like a spider.”
“It pains me much you should have been subjected to such a creature,” Maximus said. “I would very much like to hear the whole. For my own part, I have only one thing to say to ye.” Maximus inhaled and drew himself up. “I want to share whatever part of your life you are willing to give me. If you would do me the honour of becoming my temporary wife, or permanent one, whichever and for how long shall always be at your own choosing.”
Miriam smiled at him in such a tender affectionate way, the knot in Maximus’s chest permanently unwound. She took his arm for the stroll back to the boats. Maximus would have liked another embrace, maybe a kiss to seal the bargain. But he realized a public display was beyond the ken of the demure woman by his side, who’d fought a Dragon and won.
She’d not battled alone, however, for when they arrived at the boats all smiles, Miriam immediately cried out, “But where is Krunk?”
The black Amazon was not seated in either of the two boats.
“Miss Lovell said, the Hottentot is to stay behind.” Mr. Dashwood pointed helpfully up the beach, where Krunk was laboring toward the foot of the trail.
Miriam whirled on Maximus. “Oh no, not if I have anything to say to it!”
She marched out of the surf. Maximus caught up to her, of course he went after her.
“If you leave Krunk behind, you may as well leave Thrax and me.” Miriam’s pale cheek was flushed. “Thrax killed the Golden Dragon, and Krunk her guards, and that is the only reason I am with you today.”
They reached the Amazonian together, out of breath.
“You will come with us, will you not Krunk?” Miriam said. “To the ship Nonesuch? This is her captain. Captain Thorpe is the only real Khun here. A most worthy one.”
Miriam gave him such a look, Maximus Thorpe thought, as would wrench the heart of a stone.
“For that I will take your word, Maryam. All I shall ever need.”
Krunk rose from sitting on a boulder as though she would bow, wobbled and staggered. Maximus caught Krunk up in his arms, weapons and all, and carried the warrior to the boats. He deposited the Amazonian in the bow of the gig. The gig’s crew stared at him open mouthed, then as one gave a cry of surprise. Down the beach raced a tawny colored creature the size of an overfed house cat.
Maximus gave his hand to Miriam, and she was settling beside him in the stern, when Thrax came pelting through the surf, swimming at the last. Maximus reached out over the gunwale and grabbed the cat by the scruff.
“This would be yours then, Madam,” Maximus said with dignity, as he deposited the wet animal in Miriam’s lap. “And a fine job it has done, protecting its mistress.”
“Thank you, Maximus,” Miriam said for his ear alone, with a meaning glance forward at her black companion and one hand on the Hell-Cat.
Chapter Sixteen
In six weeks of cruising following the rescue of the women from the Dragon islands, HMHV Nonesuch successfully reunited six of the young women of the Boat People with their friends. Miriam made it known that this she would see done before returning to Hong Kong. Her determination, which instantly had the backing of Nonesuch’s captain, ran contrary to Anna Lovell’s desire to reach that settlement without delay. The Boat People might fetch their daughters from Kowloon or Hong Kong, Anna loudly proclaimed, while Miriam and Maximus knew they could never do so without exposing themselves to being taken up for piracy.
A solution came along that stopped the survivors of the Golden Dragon from throttling one another. The steam ship HMHV Spartan was sent to rendezvous with Nonesuch.
In Spartan’s great cabin, wearing a hijab and playing the part of just another woman caught in the Golden Dragon’s slave trade, Miriam gave her account to the ship’s captain and marine officers of the criminality centered in the Dragon islands. She tried to impress on them the fact that some of the men to be found on Dragon Island were prisoners and not pirates—local fishermen and Boat People who’d fallen foul of the Golden Dragon. Even with Maximus standing stolidly by her chair to loan countenance to her tale, Miriam had a strong impression the eager sea-officers only attended to one thing. They must not burn down the local huts, until all the plundered merchandize was got out of them.
Captain Newcombe of Spartan said, “Very good, madam, I thank you.” And with that dismissed Miriam, and turned to Maximus. “May I have the pleasure of your company for supper aboard this evening, Captain Thorpe? Do bring Baron Van der Capellen’s niece. I understand you have the lady with you. After what she’s been through I expressly wish to extend her every comfort and accommodation Spartan has to offer.”
Miriam thought the top of Maximus’s head was going to blow off, and she jumped to her feet. All foreign and uncomprehending, she wrung Captain Newcombe’s hand. Maximus managed a stiff bow and salute, and stomped out of Spartan’s great cabin. He sat there steaming in his gig on the pull back to Nonesuch, th
e color of his skin matching his fiery hair. The gig’s crew, even Saramago, kept their eyes on their oars and the sea lane between the vessels.
Maximus sent Miriam up the side of Nonesuch before him, never touching her, allowing the hands at the gangway to assist her. He returned the salutes of the officers and then, turning to Miriam, burst out, “Air mheùd 's a their na slòigh, cha ghlòir a dhearbhas ach gnìomh.”1
She could only guess he’d uttered a string of invective in Gaelic. Mr. Dashwood, the officer of the watch, shook his head. The first lieutenant shrugged, with a knowing purse of his lips as though he’d suspected Captain Thorpe of irregularity all along.
Miriam made the quarterdeck a bob and taking Maximus’s arm, she pulled him to the after hatchway companion ladder. She preceded him down the ladder to his little den in the gunroom. Once there, she closed the canvas door and led him to a seat beside her on a chest.
“I don’t mind it, Maximus, really I don’t. I would rather eat rice on the floor of the great cabin here in Nonesuch with the Boat ladies left to us, than at that pompous ass’s table.”
Maximus snorted, and after a few deep breaths he was able to speak English again. “It is the ingratitude, the presumption, the infernal ignorance I cannot abide. How can you stomach it, and pretend it does not hurt you?”
His sympathy brought a lump of emotion into Miriam’s throat, unexpected and hard to swallow down. “I’ve had some experience in being taken for a lesser being. I always try to turn presumption and infernal ignorance to my advantage.”
He turned to her and she came under scrutiny of those intense and weird eyes. “You are the wonder of the world, Miriam m’dear. If it were me I should have grabbed Newcombe by his starched frill and yelled into his face, it was I as saved that great baby, Van der Capellen’s niece.”
Oh! if only, Miriam thought. “Maybe some day, one fine day. But for the now, this is how Lord Q wants it—”
“Aye! Lord Q, damn his eyes! Must we be slaves to the will of a man thousands of leagues away in London?”
As yet that spider sitting at the center of his own web those thousands of miles away had only asked her to do what Miriam viewed as worthy and necessary work. In the process introducing her to a worthy man, and his incomparable ship.
“Yes,” Miriam said. “When his will coincides with my own.”
Maximus shook his head, but a gentler light came into his eyes. “And I suppose you and Lord Q would be meaning me to escort Miss Anna Lovell to supper without you? She of the golden hair, and important connections.”
“That is the way of the world, or at least your half of it.” Miriam squeezed his hand. “Anna will make you a charming table companion. And you are to consider while you are doing the civil, Captain Newcombe said he means to offer her every accommodation aboard his ship. If we can once be rid of her, we can cruise at our leisure and you may return to your private quarters.”
He gave her a sidelong glance and returned the pressure of her hand. “I believe I can reconcile myself to the duty, especially if you will be allowing a wee kiss.”
“If my will coincides with your own?”
“The only way it can be between us.”
Tingling with anticipation Miriam put her arms round Maximus’s broad shoulders, prepared to return his kisses and caresses one for one. Since that was how it was to be between them.
In the great cabin of Nonesuch Anna Lovell was cheek by jowl with women she considered her inferiors and, what was worse, who knew an uncomfortable fact or two about her. She didn’t hesitate to accept Captain Newcombe’s offer to carry her aboard Spartan, and never returned to Nonesuch after the supper party. Anna sent across for her few belongings and the Bengali lady to act as chaperone and companion, Miriam insisted, not as her maid. Spartan, carrying the Dutch Admiral Baron Van der Capellen’s favorite sister’s daughter, steamed off to do her work of salvage and destruction in the Dragon islands. It would be this portion of the fight against the South China Seas pirates that would later be recounted, in Dutch and English circles. Modern warfare and innovations triumphing over ancient savage ways.
A fortnight’s sailing, with an excursion into the Bay of Tonkin, restored the two remaining Boat ladies to the bosoms of their families. The homes they returned to were floating households. Nonesuch was fortunate to find them plying in the vicinity of Hainan Island, a place of surpassing romantic beauty. What was not so romantic was the life the Boat People led, as Miriam beheld it while each lady said her good-byes and transferred to her family’s vessel. Real joy shone on the faces of the mothers and numerous little siblings or cousins as the women went aboard, but Miriam thought she caught disappointment and an air of grievance among the men.
Her heart was heavy as Maximus set Nonesuch’s course for Hong Kong. Miriam knew it shouldn’t be, they’d all survived and gone home. Except Lan and Krunk, who were accompanying them to Hong Kong. Like Miriam they were homeless wanderers, a disheartening but unavoidable fact. In Iran there might be a place for her, but it was more likely the menfolk would be as dismayed at her return as the Boat People.
Miriam was making it her study to control her insecurity over whether she had a home aboard Nonesuch. Maximus, bless him, was positive on that score. He was Nonesuch’s captain, his word was law at sea—or so she’d heard. But they were not always to be at sea, and that was the source of her trouble as the ship sailed for Hong Kong. In Hong Kong they would meet Francis, and other representatives of the British Crown. Miriam’s heart beat faster at the thought, the notion of a new mission, of another assignment from Lord Q.
The captain of Nonesuch, that wonderous ship and flight in her, quickened Miriam’s pulse too. His flame-colored hair and mismatched eyes—the result, Miriam believed, of injury—made him unique. That was merely the outside of the man, of more importance to Miriam was his willingness to take her as she was. Or to try. She with her “this is what I don’t want,” speeches, a woman of no family and no country. At present what sank Miriam’s spirits most was the possibility Lord Q, and the diplomatic and military establishments, would not like her becoming sigheh to Captain Maximus Thorpe. It was far more than likely, she was still considered not one of them. Nonesuch could be taken from him, or worse he might be made to choose.
“What furrows your brow so, Miriam m’dear?” Maximus asked.
“I think someday, I will think myself to death.”
“‘Daughters of Persia!’” Maximus quoted with a slight smile. “‘Still is yours the art to charm, while life endures.’”
Miriam was surprised and pleased. “You’ve been reading in Persian poetry, I find.”
“All that your step-father would give me in translation. I should like to read the Q’uran in the original Arabic, if you had the patience to teach me.”
He didn’t realize what he asked, the obligation he placed her under, nor how much his assumption they should be together so long touched her. Miriam went and took his hand, for they were alone in the great cabin. What would she give, what would she not do to keep this life? Miriam wondered if Maximus knew the ending of that poem. “Thus whether beautiful or plain, woman asserts her lordly reign, which proves her intellectual power—for wisdom is the sex’s dower!”
The straits between Kowloon on the mainland of China and the island of Hong Kong were crowded with an astonishing number of sampans and fishing boats, even that most ancient variety using cormorants tied to a complex system of lines like the netting round Nonesuch’s balloons. After maneuvering through these obstacles, Nonesuch made her way into the harbor outside the settlement of Hong Kong. Queen Charlotte, Lord Exmouth’s flag ship, was there swaying to her cables large as life. The flag put a boat in the water once Nonesuch was at single anchor. Miriam and Maximus exchanged glances and went together to the great cabin to shift into visiting clothes.
Queen Charlotte’s flag lieutenant came aboard, saluted Nonesuch’s quarterdeck, and shook hands with Maximus. They stood together in conference a few moments
, then Maximus’s head came up in surprise and he turned round to his crew.
“Mr. Dodd, pass the word for the Dragon Island survivors, they are requested and required aboard the flag.”
Krunk stepped forward from the fringes of the afterguard at the summons. Miriam had discovered Krunk’s wish to remain with her as a sort of aide-de-camp, and to live for the present as a man. “Since I cannot be it, like your beast. I be more use working on this ship. And fighting.” Only Miriam had a grasp of what gender Krunk was, from a natural philosophy perspective. Seaman Bora’s vacant place in the afterguard was thus filled. A blackguardly set of men even for that ship the afterguard was overawed by Krunk’s fierce appearance, and kept at a respectful distance.
Saramago was sent by Mr. Dodd to ferret Lan out of the galley. Maximus excused himself to the flag lieutenant and stepped over to Miriam. Once the old ayah was on deck, looking round in confusion at the newcomers to the ship, Krunk and Queen Charlotte’s flag lieutenant both bore down on Maximus and Miriam.
“What is this, Maryam?” Krunk asked. “Where the boat take us? You come with us, or not?”
Maximus and the flag lieutenant began speaking at the same time.
“Mr. Flowers, allow me to present—” Maximus began.
“Miss Kodio Blackwell, I presume?” the flag lieutenant said.
Miriam curtsied, and the flag lieutenant withdrew a large limp letter from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. From another pocket Mr. Flowers took an official packet in tarred canvas cover and presented it to Maximus.
“You are not required aboard Queen Charlotte at this time, Miss Blackwell,” Mr. Flowers said in a low voice, giving Krunk a suspicious glance. “The Admiral wishes to interview the native survivors. I am sure you have not yet remarked it, sir,” the lieutenant said in a louder tone to Maximus, “Spartan preceded your arrival by two days. We know all about the encounter with that vicious band of pirates. It is long since past time they were put down.”
