The East Indiaman

by The East Indiaman (retail) (epub)

  Rose stirred herself, suddenly sitting upright and plucking at the white silk wrap as though the gesture signalled a return to self composure. Abruptly she held out the wine-glass. ‘Please William, a little more wine.’

  Kite took the proffered glass and, crossing to the decanter, refilled it and handed it back to Rose. Having taken a deep draught she shuddered and then looked from Kite to Sarah before shaking her head.

  ‘What am I to do? I have no-body, no-one, now Josiah is…’ and she began to cry again, mumbling in her native tongue so that Sarah had to put her arm about her again and Kite contained his true feelings with difficulty, muttering a low, ‘damnation!’

  Sarah looked up sharply. ‘We must leave matters until the morning,’ she admonished him. He contemplated sleep, but rest was to elude them, for there was a clatter on the companionway ladder and a second later Harper’s ugly visage peered round the cabin door.

  ‘Begging your pardon, Cap’n Kite… Ma’am, but may I have a word?’

  Kite sighed, looked at his wife and gestured to the deck above. Sarah nodded and Kite rose stiffly to his feet. ‘Very well Zacharaiah, I’ll follow you up on deck.’

  ‘Maggie’s here wondering whether she can do anything,’ Harper added, indicating the maid behind him and Kite wondered what she had heard.

  ‘Send her in,’ Sarah said and Kite stood aside for the young woman as she entered the cabin; then he followed Harper on deck. McClusky stood expectantly at the head of the companionway and Kite said, ‘wait there, I want a word with you before you turn in.’

  Kite heard McClusky sigh; he must have guessed what Kite wanted to ask him.

  ‘Well?’ Kite asked when Harper had withdrawn to the taffrail and both men stood staring out over the dark waters of the harbour.

  ‘I was not well received,’ Harper said in his engaging drawl. ‘That snow is the Artemis, commanded by a Lieutetant Anthony Cavanagh and the hour was somewhat late for him but I passed on what had happened and McClusky had his pennyworth.’ Harper paused, then added, ‘I got the impression that Cavanagh knew something of Hooker, if only by reputation. Anyway his reply was that he advised that you, Cap’n, did not tarry in harbour but put to sea and dumped the body before putrescence set in. He said once the flies get to it after sunrise… well, I don’t need to labour the point, sir.’

  ‘So there was no suggestion that due process of law should in any sense take its course?’ Kite asked astonished.

  ‘Quite the contrary, sir.’

  Kite was about to mention the missing chest of treasure, but then decided against it. Although he would have trusted Harper with his life, he did not think that extending his confidences or his inner thoughts at that moment would be fruitful. Instead he swung round and, seeing the figure standing beside the after companionway called out, ‘Mr McClusky?’

  ‘Sir?’ McClusky came aft.

  ‘You had the deck, McClusky. Tell me what happened.’

  There was a silence, then McClusky said, ‘Well, sir, I heard the scream…’

  ‘I mean what happened before the scream,’ Kite broke in.

  ‘Well, nothing, sir.’

  ‘Nothing? Think carefully man. You are telling me you neither saw not heard a thing?’

  ‘Not that I can recall, sir.’

  ‘You were asleep!’ Kite snapped.

  ‘No sir, I was not asleep!’ McClusky protested.

  ‘Mr McClusky, it is quite possible to be asleep and yet not to know it. I suggest to you that you were asleep, or perhaps, conceding you the partial benefit of the doubt, merely dozing, and that the scream woke you to full consciousness.’ The was another silence. ‘Well, sir? Am I correct?’

  McClusky sighed again and mumbled, ‘yes, sir, it is possible.’

  ‘Very well, now try and recall what, in those comatose moments, you recall.’

  ‘Well…nothing, Captain Kite…’ McClusky’s tone was unhappy.

  ‘Nothing at all? Let me prompt you. Did you see any strangers on deck? You have been keeping the anchor watch alone, with the…’

  ‘Exception of the dacoits who had relieved each other,’ McClusky volunteered with sudden excited recollection.

  ‘Did you see the handover?’

  ‘No… Yes… No… I don’t recall sir. I remember there was one we called Hassan. He was very tired having been up all day on guard and he kept nodding off… Then I do remember Mahmud, the tall thin one, coming towards me… Yes he seemed to… No, I was surprised and then he seemed startled, perhaps I had dozed off. He reported all was well and, I don’t remember much else until the scream…’

  ‘You were not struck from behind. You don’t have a bump on the head, or anything?’

  McClusky ran his hand over his head as if he might discover something. ‘No sir…’

  ‘Mahmud had come aft to see if he was asleep and found him drowsy, Cap’n,’ Harper said, ‘and then he just backed away until Mac was asleep properly.’

  Kite nodded. ‘Yes, that’s what I think.’

  ‘’Cause those damned dacoits did it, sir, I’m sure of it and that’s why they didn’t come back with Hooker; they’d deserted him and were annoyed that he’d left two of them aboard. I heard one of them saying something about having to come back and get their pay and their compatriots.’

  ‘How did you understand them, Zachariah?’

  ‘I know a little of their lingo, Cap’n. Not much, but I know they said it was all finished, that Hooker was a, well we’d say bastard, I daresay, Cap’n and Hassan and Mahmud’s names were mentioned. It makes sense.’ Harper concluded in his logical way; the matter was beyond peradventure as far as Zacharaiah Harper was concerned.

  Kite nodded his head. ‘Very well. We can do no more tonight. I shall keep the deck, I’ve some thinking to do. Do you two turn in for a couple of hours and then I want Hooker sewn into a hammock…’

  ‘I’ll see to that Cap’n, though I guess one will be insufficient,’ Harper said, his grin, unseen in the darkness, articulated in the tone of his grim words.

  ‘Very well. And I’ll want your boat again early in the forenoon. I’ve some calls of my own to pay.’

  As the two men went forward Kite fell to a restless pacing of the deck where, some minutes later Sarah joined him.

  ‘Will you not come below, William. Rose has fallen asleep. It was the wine, I expect; she is not used to it.’

  ‘I must stand the anchor watch, Sarah. Do you sleep, my dear. We are come to a pretty pass and I must consider what is to be done.’

  ‘What can be done?’ Sarah asked, ‘with Josiah and his money gone we are obliged to offer our protection to Rose…’

  ‘God, I had not thought of that!’

  ‘She has no-one, as she said…’

  ‘Well we have precious little, Sarah. I did not even secure Hooker’s damned passage money and beyond what I have in bills of exchange, and that is little enough… Oh, God damn! We would have been better off in Liverpool playing fast and loose with our creditors…’ Kite spoke through clenched teeth.

  ‘Come, come, William, we have no creditors…’ Sarah soothed.

  ‘No, but how low we have been brought… Had I not trusted Hooker…’ Kite brushed his hand through his hair and then his self-control broke down. He struck his fist violently on the rail. ‘God rot that festering bastard! He has made a fool of me!’

  Sarah remained silent as the anger ebbed out of Kite and he turned to his wife. ‘What are we to do, Sarah, here in Bombay?’ he asked in a low, almost tremulous voice.

  ‘I don’t know, my love,’ she said, leaning forward and brushing his lips with her own, ‘but it will seem less terrible in the morning.’

  ‘God grant that you are not mistaken,’ he muttered, holding her.

  ‘God granted me a resourceful husband.’

  ‘Then God grant he does not let you down,’ Kite responded with bleak bitterness, ‘for make no mistake but that we are hostages to an hostile fortune.’

  Chapter T
en

  A Matter of Suicide

  The dawn was red and splendid; the scarlet ball of the sun rose behind the line of distant hills and the nearer, harder edges of domes, buildings and palm trees. The dark waters of the harbour became limpid, then the colour of jade, the rampart of the castle white and pink, like some fantastical confection. The noise of four bells, struck first on the Artemis, was echoed by the other large Country ships while from the dhows and pattamars rose the thin coils of smoke from the cooking fires in their clay beds. Movements stirred the air. Along the bund ox-carts began to move, carriers bore their burdens and the bright splash of a dress told where a woman took her produce to market. On board the ships men could be seen at their daily chores and already fishing mashwas were on their way to sea, they brown-skinned crews laughing as they passed Kite pacing his lonely vigil on Spitfire’s deck.

  In the daylight he found what he was looking for: the trail of blood that went forward and over the rail where the dacoits left ashore had returned for ‘their pay’ and the extermination of Hooker. While he knew Rose had not told him everything, it was curious that they had not despatched her too. And, come to think of it, odd that they had left Kite alone, or, worse still, had not set fire to the schooner. Then it occurred to him that perhaps they had intended all these things, only to take alarm when Rose had screamed. It was unlikely, Kite concluded, that he would ever comprehend the motives of men with whom he had nothing in common and to whom he had paid scant attention. Perhaps his ignorance was reprehensible, if so it was a sin of omission and, with all the preoccupations of command, he felt acquitted of guilt. Moreover, since Hooker had hoodwinked him, he felt scant obligation to pursue justice, even supposing he knew how to go about the matter. As for recovering Hooker’s fortune, he had not the slightest inkling of where to start. He would, he decided, call himself upon Lieutenant Cavanagh, and then pay the Honourable East India Company’s factor a visit, but beyond that, what could he do?

  He thought he possessed sufficient bills of exchange to refit and resupply Spitfire and thereafter he had better return to the Atlantic and, under the terms of his letter-of-marque-and-reprisal he would descend upon the American coast and take a few prizes. That at least was better than rotting like Hooker, and the thought stirred him to action. There was the ship’s company to be called and a deal of work to be done before William Kite could lay down and rest.

  He waited upon Lieutenant Anthony Cavanagh while the commander of the Artemis was breaking his fast.

  ‘Ah, captain, pray take a seat and join me in a cup of coffee. We enjoy the finest Mocha, don’t y know,’ said Cavanagh smiling and indicating one of two empty seats at his table. Two Indian servants moved silently about the cabin, ministering to Cavanagh’s trivial wants with a solicitude that Kite found unnerving but which Cavanagh barely regarded, such was the extent of his indiscretion before them.

  ‘Your mate came aboard rather late last night,’ Cavanagh said, smiling and dabbing his mouth as one of his servants removed the plate of half-consumed fish kedgeree.

  ‘Yes, Lieutenant, I regret the necessity to inform you, but I am not versed in the Indian trade and had hoped that you might advise me,’ Kite looked pointedly at the Indian servants, ‘of what, under the circumstances, I should do.’

  Cavanagh looked amused. ‘Why nothing, Captain Kite, as I told your mate. The man Hooker,’ he paused, seeing the alarm registered on Kite’s face and his eyes glancing at the Indians. ‘Oh, please don’t worry about my boys, they know all about whatever happens long before I do. I daresay they can tell you things about your Hooker Sahib that would surprise you, eh Vikram?’ And here Cavanagh rolled his head and addressed a few words in Hindustani to the servant who was just then setting a cup and saucer before Kite, at which point the second appeared with a silver coffee pot. ‘But I will ask them to go, if it pleases you, though they will listen on the far side of the door.’ And Cavanagh gave some instructions at which, having served Kite with his coffee, the two so-called ‘boys’, disappeared.

  ‘I do not know the degree to which you are acquainted with Josiah Hooker, Captain, but we thought he had gone home. He is well known at Madras and even better known in Calcutta where he fought a duel and shot a rather pleasant young fellow named O’Neil, a captain of sepoys who expressed some silly opinion about the woman Hooker passes off as his wife. Normally, of course, we would hear little of such matters here in Bombay, but word reached us that Hooker, having had the effrontery to suggest he might invest in an India voyage, had met rejection from the Company’s Directors in London. It is unheard of for a nabob to return once he has made his fortune, so I have no idea what deterred him from settling in England unless he had made as many enemies there as it appears he had in Calcutta. It was the hottest news that came out aboard the Walmer Castle and word was passed along the coast. O’Neil survived the ball he took in his shoulder and is thirsting for revenge.’

  ‘I see,’ Kite replied, digesting this news. There had been ample time for the story to be transmitted from Leadenhall Street since he and Hooker had had their ill-fated encounter there all those months ago. Cavanagh seemed amused by the way events turned out and, sensing this, Kite remarked with a complimentary levity, ‘then it is as well I am rid of him.’

  ‘Absolutely, my dear fellow.’ Cavanagh paused, then pointedly asked, ‘so what brings you out here?’

  ‘Oh,’ Kite said as lightly as he could manage, ‘I was the owner of several ships all of which were taken by American privateers. All I had left was the Spitfire, a former slaver and a privateer herself. Hooker engaged me to carry him out here and, well…’

  ‘Here you are, eh?’ Cavanagh broke in with a pleasant smile. ‘I hope he paid you before he had his throat slit.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Kite asked as though abstracted and avoiding Cavanagh’s implied question, ‘what was the cause of the duel with O’Neil? Something about Hooker’s wife, did you say?’

  ‘Oh, the usual nonsense about miscegenation. I daresay O’Neil himself was drunk or he is an epicure and likes to play the buggeranto. There is a prejudice among some of the military officers against marrying native women. They like to annoy the established traders almost all of whom have native wives. The silly infection came out here with the first of the king’s officers sent with their troops to bolster the Company’s sepoy regiments. The causes of such squabbles are of less consequence than the manner in which they touch a gentleman’s honour. Now, had O’Neil been a sea-officer like myself, or indeed you, my dear Captain, he would not have had the time to trouble himself over with whom or with what Hooker slept… Tell me, they say he was a big man, is that true?’

  ‘Indeed it is, Mr Cavanagh. He is, or was, an immense fellow.’

  ‘God help you if he starts to putrefy! He will stink within hours! Do you take him to sea and bury him without more ado!’

  Kite resisted the temptation to complain Hooker stank when alive and contented himself with an expression of gratitude.

  ‘Well, thank you for your advice and for your excellent Mocha,’ Kite said rising. He was glad of the coffee, for it drove some of the fatigue from him. ‘But I feel I should report the circumstance of his death to some authority ashore.’

  ‘I can report it, if you wish…’ Cavanagh offered with an air of palpable reluctance.

  ‘I am obliged to you, but I shall feel at ease when I have acquainted the Company factor with whom Hooker spoke yesterday of the death.’

  ‘Very well.’ Cavanagh stood and held out his hand. Then with a smile he added, ‘the head of the Company’s factory here in Bombay is titled the president, Captain Kite.’

  ‘I’m obliged to you, sir,’ responded Kite taking his departure. In the boat he ordered her headed for the castle.

  The pink and white confection appeared less lovely at close quarters. The white stone and stucco work had a shoddy finish, as though built in a hurry and seamed with cracks. Two sepoy sentinels, one each side of the crenellated entrance, stood guard b
ut made no attempt to bar Kite’s entrance. He wore the blue broadcloth and black tricorne hat traditionally adopted by merchant masters, though highly unsuitable to the climate it identified him as British and therefore free to enter the Company’s fortified headquarters at Bombay. Inside two men in similar garb to himself stood in the shade of the walls. Kite interrupted their conversation and they indicated the entrance door that led to the president’s office. He was passed by a file of sepoys under a corporal as he made his way towards it.

  Outside a punkah-wallah sat patiently at his rope and it was only ten minutes later, when Kite was shown into the factor’s room, that the regular swaying of the fan of the air-wafting punkah explained the fellow’s labour. The president’s room was light and airy, cooled by the punkah and situated on the upper ramparts of the castle where the sea-breeze came in over a terrace that commanded a splendid view of the harbour. The white coated servant who ushered him in announced Kite’s name and the white haired president looked up and introduced himself.

  ‘Joseph Cranbrooke at your service, Captain Kite.’ The two men shook hands and Cranbrooke introduced a younger man, clearly one of the Company’s clerks, or writers as he afterwards learned they were called in the East. The younger man gathered up some papers from the president’s desk and withdrew.

  ‘It is good of you to see me, sir,’ Kite began as the door closed and he was alone with Cranbrooke. ‘And I am sorry to intrude upon your time and patience, but I understand that my principal, Mr Hooker, waited upon you yesterday.’

  ‘He did, Captain Kite, and I have to confess that his visit was a surprise. I do not know how long you have been associated with Mr Hooker, but you may not be aware that he has earned something of a somewhat disreputable reputation in India.’

  ‘I have only today been acquainted of the fact, sir. Lieutenant Cavanagh of the Artemis was kind enough to appraise me. Hooker and I entered into an agreement that I should bring him back out to India only a few months ago. I am entirely ignorant of his history.’