‘It is for you to decide. Do you really want an unwilling woman in your bed? Where is the pleasure in that? She is doing her duty and has quickened with child. If I were you, I would leave her alone until such time as she is ready to bear another. Should the child be a girl, then I am sure Hasuko-sama will be prepared to try again. She knows it’s her duty.’
‘You think I should accept a concubine of her choosing then?’
‘Perhaps. You have shown her now that you are the master by refusing initially. You can afford to be magnanimous. If you wish, you could veil your acceptance in protestations of care for Hasuko-sama, who is now presumably rather large with child?’
‘Hmm. Very well, I’ll think about it. I can’t say I am happy with this situation, but as always, your wisdom is greater than mine.’
Yanagihara bowed and then presented the finished page of calligraphy to his lord with a twinkle lurking in his eyes. ‘Take this, my lord, to remind you you’re not alone. All men have these problems and they always will.’
Chapter Thirteen
On board the Sea Sprite, 4th July 1611
Hannah sat slumped against the wall for what seemed like ages. She couldn’t believe what had happened and found it hard to reconcile the Captain Rydon she knew with the hard man who was coming to flog her soon. Her thoughts spun round and round, trying to understand. It just didn’t make sense. He had always been so charming, so polite. Why wouldn’t he even listen to her now?
When at last the door opened, it was to admit Mr Jones, who came to light two lanterns. Hannah had barely noticed that it was growing dark and looked at the man in a daze.
‘Now, now, young’un, it ain’t as bad as all that.’ The deep voice of Mr Jones was soothing and she saw that he wasn’t glaring at her any longer. Instead, there was a look of concern in his deep-set eyes. ‘The captain don’t usually do this,’ he muttered, ‘but you did catch him in a foul mood, more’s the pity. He’ll be along in a moment. Pull yerself together now, boy. It’ll be over soon.’
Hannah made an effort to stand up and managed it just as the captain returned to his cabin. The two lanterns cast an eerie glow over his features as he sat down and she noticed he wasn’t quite such a dapper creature on board ship as he had been in port. Not only was his blond hair unkempt, but his shirt was dirty and stained and his beard looked scruffy. The scowl didn’t do much for his looks either.
She caught sight of her own reflection in the glass of one of the lanterns and almost gasped out loud. It was understandable that he hadn’t recognised her – she barely knew herself. She really did look like a filthy youth. There was nothing even remotely feminine about her as far as she could see. So how could she persuade the captain while still preserving her modesty? Was it even worth her while trying? Perhaps it would be better for her to keep on pretending to be a boy. She didn’t like this new Rydon and if she’d been so wrong about him, how could she be sure he’d protect her even if he found out she was a woman?
Obviously unaware of the conflict raging within Hannah, Rydon rested his long legs nonchalantly on a table covered with charts and measuring instruments. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and looked at her out of hard, grey eyes. Hannah realised she had made a terrible mistake in boarding Captain Rydon’s ship, not her brother’s.
‘God’s wounds,’ she murmured, wanting to kick herself for not making sure of her facts before setting off on the adventure. What a double ass she had been. And what on earth was she to do? There was still the possibility she could convince the captain of her identity somehow, and he would transfer her to her brother’s ship. But what use would that be?
It’s too late. Jacob will be furious. He wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a sister who had acted so foolishly. And what’s more, he might insist on taking her back to Plymouth, thus delaying the venture. No, I am not going back. Hannah made up her mind. Far better to accept her punishment here and sail on. She would rather take her chances on the high seas than marry Ezekiel Hesketh. If only she could persuade the captain that she could be of some use to him during the journey, otherwise it would be a very short trip indeed.
‘Leave us, Jones,’ Rydon ordered.
‘Aye, sir. Of course, sir.’ Jones bowed himself out and the door slammed shut after him, leaving only uncomfortable silence.
‘What’s your name, boy?’
‘Er, Harry. Harry Johnson, sir,’ Hannah lied, choosing the first name that came into her head and adopting a gruff tone of voice in order to sound more like a boy.
‘So, Harry, what have you got to say for yourself? What made you think you could stow away on board my ship? Stand up straight when I’m talking to you!’ The last sentence was shouted in a voice so loud it hurt her ears. Hannah straightened her back, stunned into instant obedience.
‘I had no choice, sir.’ She stared at the floor, blinking furiously to stop herself from crying.
‘Is that so? Well, I have no choice but to punish you now.’
‘I understand, Captain, but please don’t throw me overboard. I … I can cook. Or do anything else you want,’ she pleaded quickly, hoping to prevent him from doing something hasty. ‘I swear I’ll do whatever you say.’
‘You can cook?’ He had busied himself with shifting some of the charts on the table to one side, but looked up abruptly at her words. ‘Hmm. Well, some proper food around here would make a nice change.’ He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. ‘I’ll think about it. For now, turn towards the wall and take your waistcoat off.’
Hannah ran her tongue over her dry, cracked lips, and swallowed down the panic that was rising inside her. ‘M-my waistcoat?’
‘Since you obviously have absolutely no sense whatsoever in that small brain of yours, I have only one option, and that is to try and beat some into you,’ Rydon explained as he got to his feet and started to take his belt off. ‘Now do as I say!’
Hannah did, then wondered if he would also ask her to remove her shirt. If so, she’d be exposed as a girl immediately. Before she had time to think about it further, she heard Rydon come up behind her. He pulled her shirt out of her breeches, took hold of the bottom and ripped it up the middle with one sharp tug. She heard the material tear and clutched the front to her chest.
‘You can sew that up later,’ he muttered, ‘as part of your punishment.’
Hannah closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Mending the shirt would be the easy part.
‘Harry-san. Harry-san!’
Hannah swam up through the darkness and into the light, where an explosion of pain in her back almost sank her once more. She was lying face down on a hard floor and her fuzzy brain registered cooking smells. Although they nauseated her right now, they told her that she was still alive. She relaxed slightly. She seemed to be safe for the moment and her ordeal was over.
‘Harry-san, please, wake up now. Back is clean, need new shirt on. Fast before someone come.’
‘What? Oh!’ Hannah realised she was naked to the waist, apart from a small gold cross on a chain which she always wore around her neck. She heard it clinking slightly against the floor as she turned her head to see who was speaking. She blinked in surprise, then quickly gathered her arms to her sides for protection. At first she thought she was seeing things, but she soon realised the man beside her was real.
‘Hodgson?’ she whispered.
He grinned in acknowledgement. ‘Hai. Yes, you in cook room. Captain ask me look after you.’
Hannah smiled back feebly, immensely cheered by meeting the strange little foreigner again. Perhaps things weren’t so bad after all. She liked the Chinaman and she could definitely cook, thanks to her mother’s strict teaching. Then she remembered she was half naked. ‘My clothes … the captain, did he …?’
Hodgson interrupted her, shaking his head. ‘No, I take off shirt. Lots of blood, clean with salt water. Need new one.’ He leaned forward and whispered. ‘Will keep secret.’
Her eyes flew to his. ‘Secret?’
‘Girl,’ he said and nodded.
Hannah felt her face flaming. She didn’t think she’d ever been as embarrassed in her entire life. A complete stranger had undressed her and seen half her body. Dear Lord in heaven!
Hodgson patted her on the head as if she was a small child, however. ‘No worry. Safe with me. Now dress, please.’
‘Safe from the captain?’ Hannah dared to look at him again. He didn’t seem at all fazed by her state of undress and was holding out a garment.
‘From everyone.’ He added sternly, ‘Stay with me always. Never, never go alone on ship. Understand? Much danger. If sailors find girl on board …’ He left the sentence unfinished, but Hannah hadn’t grown up in a port for nothing. She knew what he meant and was touched by his concern for her.
She nodded. ‘I swear I’ll do as you say.’
‘Good. Up now.’ Hodgson pulled on her shoulders from behind until she was in a kneeling position and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She drew in a hissing breath to try and alleviate the pain that was streaking across her back like scalding water. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder.
‘I … is it bad?’
‘No, not bad.’
The Chinaman wouldn’t look her in the eye, but busied himself with something behind her, so she didn’t believe him. It felt as if her entire back was on fire, but Hannah had fainted after the tenth stroke and had no idea how long Rydon had continued flogging her with his belt. She didn’t really blame him. He was entirely within his rights and she deserved to be punished for what she’d done. It was obviously what happened to stowaways. However, that didn’t make the pain any easier to bear. She swallowed a sob. At least he had punished her in private, not in front of the entire crew. And she hadn’t cried, which was something she supposed.
‘Did, er, the captain see that I was a girl?’ she dared to ask.
‘Don’t think so. Still wearing shirt. Only torn at back up to collar. I carry you here.’
‘God be praised.’ Hannah was relieved. Besides, if Rydon had noticed that she was a girl, presumably he wouldn’t have left her here with the Chinaman.
Hodgson draped something over her back and she flinched even at that small contact. She managed to put her arms into the garment and realised it was one of his silk tunics. ‘Why …?’ she began, but he cut her off.
‘Silk softer. Also dark colour. Your shirt white, not good right now, will show stains. I wash, then you sew.’
‘Oh, I see. Thank you.’ He had thought of everything and the silk did feel comfortable, sliding along her skin like soft spring water.
‘Here. Drink soup, then sleep. Feel better later.’
He offered her a bowl and she drank the fish soup slowly. When she had finished, he helped her to lie face down once more and put her only spare shirt under her face as a pillow. He told her he’d found her hiding place on the lower deck and had brought her little bundle safely to the cook room.
‘Thank you again, Hodgson. You’re very kind and I’m not sure what I’d have done without you.’
‘Is nothing. Sleep now.’
When Hannah woke for the second time, she took in her surroundings more clearly. The cook room was a cramped cabin with a brick floor, just below the main deck. It was full of utensils, food sacks and barrels, all arranged in orderly rows. In the middle of it all stood Hodgson, still wearing his strange garments. He was busy stirring the contents of a huge cauldron. She got to her feet and standing next to him, she noticed he was no taller than she was herself, although considerably broader. In the sunlight coming through the hatch above their heads his black hair gleamed, but it was streaked with quite a few grey strands so she guessed he was older than she’d first thought. Perhaps as much as forty-five, although it was hard to tell. He looked up and his dark eyes reminded her of a cat. When he caught sight of her they opened wide and his face was lit up by a welcoming smile.
‘Good morning. Feel better?’
‘Uhm, a little, thank you.’ The truth was that her back still hurt beyond belief, but it was a different kind of pain now. More a dull ache, which was bearable if she moved slowly. ‘My back itches.’ She knew that was because Hodgson had cleaned it with salt water. Her mother had often done the same whenever anyone was hurt. The salt would help the healing process, but it also dried the skin out and every time she moved, the scabs pulled at the sides of her wounds.
Hannah inspected the cabin more closely. Everything was tidy and in its place and every surface scrubbed clean. The pots were shining, as were the knives and other utensils. Hodgson was evidently a neat individual.
‘Harry-san help me? Or want rest more?’
‘No, I’ll try to help.’ Hannah thought his pronunciation of her new name rather quaint and it made her wonder about his own name. ‘What are you really called? I remember the captain saying your name wasn’t Hodgson?’ she said, thinking out loud.
‘No. My name Hoji. In my country we say san after, mean mister, or sama if noble person. So Hoji-san.’ He bowed to her formally.
‘Haw-gee-sun?’ She imitated his pronunciation carefully and nodded. ‘I thought Hodgson was an odd name for a Chinaman.’
He laughed and shook his head. ‘No, no, Hodgson not my name, but easier for English people. You say real name very well.’ He laughed again. ‘And I not a Chinaman. Nihon-jin desu – I from Japan.’
‘Truly? Oh, please can you tell me about your country? That’s where we’re going, isn’t it. I want to know everything about it.’
‘I will tell you many things, Harry-san, but first we cook.’
Hannah did indeed learn a lot during the next few days, as Hoji had promised. Not only about his native country, of which he talked at length, but also about life on board a ship.
After the first week, curiosity among the crew about the new cook’s assistant died down. The men stopped staring at her whenever she ventured up on deck. It didn’t prevent them from having a bit of fun with the newcomer though. On several occasions Hannah found herself inexplicably bumping into people or sprawled on deck as someone’s foot got in her way.
Shouts like, ‘Watch yer step, boy!’ and ‘Look where yer goin’, squirt!’ echoed after her, followed by sniggering or outright laughter. Hannah ground her teeth.
‘Pretend you deaf,’ Hoji advised in a whisper each time. He was constantly at her side. In fact, he seemed to have appointed himself her personal bodyguard. Hannah was immensely grateful for his support. Somehow she felt safe with him and although he was a hard taskmaster in the cook room, she was happy to follow his orders. It was no worse than being harried by her mother after all. She was able to repay him by offering some suggestions regarding the cooking that would make it more palatable to their grumpy captain.
They both slept in the cook room, but Hannah didn’t mind. It meant sleeping on the hard floor, but at least down there she was protected from the elements. She also knew it was much safer for her not to be anywhere near the other men, who mostly slept wherever they could find a space on the crowded main deck unless the weather was bad. Hoji curled up at the bottom of the ladder, so that anyone coming down would have to step over him first.
There was something she did mind though, at least at first. On the second day, Hoji woke her by thumping down a bucket of water next to her. ‘O-hayo gozaimasu.’
‘Oh, good morning. What’s this?’
‘You please wash now. I sit outside, no one come in. Change clothes. Have second shirt, yes?’
Hannah frowned and looked at the silk robe she was still wearing. ‘But this isn’t that dirty yet.’
‘Stink,’ Hoji said succinctly.
‘What?’ Hannah sat up and rubbed her eyes, not sure she had heard him right.
‘Can not work with person who stink. In my country, bath every day. Clean is good. You want work with me, wash every day.’
‘Well, really!’ Hannah stared at him in surprise. ‘I’ll have you know, I washed only last week. All over. And then you
cleaned me with saltwater.’
Hoji shook his head. ‘Not good enough.’
Hannah stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I’m fine as I am. I don’t want to wash yet.’
‘No wash, no work in cook room.’ Hoji stood his ground, staring her straight in the eyes.
‘This is ridiculous. As long as I perform my duties, you should be happy.’
‘Not enough,’ Hoji reiterated.
‘Well, I refuse. You can’t make me.’
Hoji turned for the stairs. ‘Then captain have to find other work for you. In my room, everything clean. No smell.’
Disgruntled, Hannah weighed up her options, but soon realised she didn’t have any. Working with the other men was out of the question. Obviously there wasn’t any chance that Rydon would let her sit around and do nothing either. Reluctantly she called out, ‘Wait, please.’
The cook looked over his shoulder and raised one eyebrow.
‘Oh, very well,’ Hannah grumbled, ‘but I don’t see why it should be necessary to wash every day. I might catch a chill and die.’
Hoji only snorted in reply and didn’t stay to listen to any more complaints. Once he had seen her pick up the wash cloth he had provided, he climbed the ladder and she heard him sit down beside the hatch.
‘Stupid foreign ideas,’ she muttered, but obeyed all the same, scrubbing herself from head to toe. Even though the water in the bucket was from the sea and made the rest of her body itch too when it dried, she had to admit it was quite nice to put on clean clothes. Still, she didn’t understand why he insisted on such fastidiousness. She was sure of one thing though, she definitely didn’t want to work with the other men. She wouldn’t last a day among them.
Chapter Fourteen
Northern Japan, May 1612
‘My lord, come quickly, please! It’s the Lady Hasuko …’
The Scarlet Kimono (Choc Lit) Page 9
