He’d reverted to foreign clothing again – woollen knee breeches, a long-sleeved white linen shirt with a collar, slightly open at the neck, and a leather waistcoat which she’d heard someone call a jerkin. Unlike the other crew members who went barefoot, he also wore hose and leather shoes.
‘Is the captain a hard taskmaster?’ she asked Harding when she saw him noticing her glance in Noordholt’s direction.
‘Yes, but he’s not unjust,’ the big Englishman replied. ‘So far as I’ve seen, he’d never ask anyone to do somethin’ he couldn’t do hisself. And whenever the weather’s been bad, he’s helped out. I even saw him up in the riggin’ once, though he could’ve sent someone else.’
Midori was glad to hear it. She also gathered he never raised his voice unnecessarily, despite his stern façade, and didn’t need to. And he knew everyone’s name and often stopped to speak with individual sailors. This seemed to ensure his commands were always obeyed with alacrity. Several times Midori saw him overlook minor misdemeanours, except to show the crew member in question with a look that such behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated a second time. Everyone appeared to respect him, and no wonder, she thought, when he showed himself to be fair in his dealings with them.
One particular incident made Midori warm to him more than ever. The captain was walking along the deck when the youngest member of the crew, a twelve-year-old boy named Ben, hurried past with a bucket of dirty water. As he overtook the captain, he somehow managed to bump the bucket against his legs and half the disgusting contents sloshed out, drenching the captain’s shoes.
‘Oh, no!’ the boy exclaimed, staring at the captain with horror in his eyes. Midori held her breath, expecting dire consequences for the boy. He was obviously too frightened to even utter an apology, but to both his and Midori’s surprise, the captain burst out laughing and shook one foot with a rueful expression.
‘Less haste, more speed, Ben,’ he said and ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘Try to look where you’re going, eh?’
‘But, but … your shoes, sir! I, I’m so sorry, I …’
‘They’ll dry, don’t worry. Now get on with your work, little one. You’re doing well.’
Midori heard Harding chuckle behind her. ‘Is he always so lenient?’ she asked him.
‘With the little ’uns, yes, but not anyone else, although accidents happen and the cap’n’s not one to explode unnecessarily. He’d not punish someone for just being clumsy.’
Midori was impressed. The more she learned of the man, the more he went up in her estimation. If only he wasn’t always angry with her, but then he hadn’t wanted her as a passenger at all.
During a brief walk round the deck at dusk one day, Midori and Harding came across the ship’s surgeon, Mijnheer de Jong, bandaging a sailor’s leg. A nasty gash on the shin was oozing blood and as the sailor jumped and swore every time he was touched, the surgeon had his work cut out to help him.
‘Good evening,’ Midori said politely and the man replied in Dutch, somewhat distractedly.
‘He can’t speak to you, seein’ as he’s Dutch, but I can translate for you,’ Harding offered.
‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’
She didn’t really have anything to say to the man, however, but as she watched the surgeon struggle to apply the bandage in a rather clumsy fashion, a thought occurred to her. De Jong was long past his prime. His hands shook slightly and some of the fingers on his right hand were bent by arthritis and obviously painful. ‘I don’t suppose you need any help with tending the sick and injured? I have some experience of such things and would be pleased to offer my assistance,’ she said.
She waited while Harding translated this, and saw the surgeon’s eyes light up. De Jong nodded and a torrent of words came out.
‘He says you’d be most welcome to help,’ Harding replied on his behalf. ‘You can make a start with this here bandage, if you have nimble fingers. The surgeon’s havin’ some trouble, as you can see.’
‘I’d be glad to.’
As Midori set to work, Harding grabbed hold of the injured man as if he was afraid he’d lash out at her. Midori smiled and said, ‘Please tell him I’ll be as gentle as I can.’
Harding did as he was bid and the sailor relaxed slightly. It didn’t take Midori long to tie the bandage neatly in place, earning a look of gratitude from the victim as well as the surgeon.
‘Dank u wel, mevrouw.’
‘You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can do? Prepare some ointment perhaps?’
Harding translated and de Jong beckoned her to come along to his cabin. ‘He says it’s best you come and see what he’s got, then you can discuss what needs to be done. Shall we go?’
Life on board a ship the size of the Zwarte Zwaan was often dangerous, and Midori was both surprised and pleased to be called upon frequently to help de Jong during the weeks that followed. There were outbreaks of fever, stomach problems and various accidents, and Midori enjoyed having something to do. It helped fill the endless hours that stretched before her each day. With Harding accompanying her she wasn’t afraid to tend sick men as they lay in their hammocks, and her skills in preparing ointments and tisanes of every description came in very useful. The men seemed to approve of her light touch and no one was disrespectful, at least not to her face.
De Jong was grateful to her. Via Harding he told her this was his last voyage. ‘I hope to retire when we return to Amsterdam,’ he said. ‘I’m feeling my age and I’m not as able to keep up with this work as I did in my youth. Your assistance is most welcome.’ The man smiled at her and added, ‘I thank God for sending you to help me.’
Nico, meanwhile, was not having a very good voyage. He suffered from a restlessness he couldn’t subdue, and he knew the cause of it only too well – he couldn’t get Midori out of his mind.
Wherever he went, he caught glimpses of her, or so it seemed. Her serene beauty and calm demeanour drew him like a magnet. Time and again he found his steps moving in her direction without conscious thought, until he realised what he was doing and turned away again. It annoyed him that she should have this hold over him, especially since he didn’t seem to affect her one whit. Although scrupulously polite, she never sought him out.
‘Well, perhaps I can change that?’ he muttered. Women weren’t usually indifferent to him and he’d had no trouble in the past when it came to enticing them into his bed. Why should this one be any different?
Not that I want to bed Midori! Well, he did, truth to tell, but had no intention of going that far. A little light flirtation wouldn’t hurt though, would it? Just to pass the time. He grinned to himself. Yes, why not enjoy her company while he could? In a purely platonic way, of course.
It was a particularly hot day in the third week of their voyage, and Nico had been walking along the deck, trying to shut his ears to the sound of feminine laughter. It was driving him insane and the Lord only knew what it was doing to the rest of the crew. Low-pitched and musical, it ate away at his senses, teasing him mercilessly. What was entertaining her so? He wondered how Midori could find such happiness in the company of Harding and the cabin boy, not to mention the surgeon.
No reason why she can’t be as happy spending time with me, damn it.
His decision made, he walked in the direction of the merriment. As he came nearer, the clacking noise of a pair of dice being thrown against a wooden surface mingled with Midori’s laughter and he peered into the small corridor outside her cabin. He wasn’t pleased by what he saw, as he didn’t encourage gambling among his crew, but it was the perfect opportunity to try and rattle her composure a little.
She was kneeling on the floor, wearing another plain kimono, this time in a dark shade of russet. Her legs were tucked demurely underneath her. Next to her, Harding and Jochem were seated cross-legged, so close they almost touched her.
‘Wha
t’s going on here?’ Nico demanded, trying his best to sound stern.
Three surprised faces looked up at him as one, and the laughter stopped abruptly.
‘Harding and Jochem are teaching me backgammon,’ Midori replied calmly. ‘We’re playing for money.’ She indicated a small pile of silver coins heaped next to her on the floor.
‘I can see that.’ Nico frowned. ‘Should you be gambling away what I assume is your inheritance or dowry?’ It occurred to him to wonder if she even had a dowry, and if so, where she kept it hidden. Not that it was any of his business, but he didn’t want his crew tempted by the lure of silver as well as her charms.
It was Midori’s turn to frown. ‘I’m only playing with a small amount.’
‘That’s what all gamblers say.’ Nico nodded as if she’d proved his point.
‘She’s winnin’ Captain,’ Harding added. ‘Has the devil’s own luck, she does.’
‘That’s neither here nor there. Lady Midori might be winning at the moment, but once the gambling fever sets in, she may not be so lucky.’
‘Gambling fever? What’s that? I’ve never heard of such an illness.’ Midori looked confused, her usual calm expression slipping a little for once.
Nico hid a smile. ‘It’s when a person becomes addicted to excessive gaming. They can’t help themselves and gamble until they have nothing left.’
‘I’m not such a lackwit!’
‘Perhaps you don’t think so now,’ Nico countered.
‘I know so,’ she said calmly. ‘Besides, there’s nothing else to do and it passes the time. Mijnheer de Jong doesn’t need my help today and I can’t tidy my cabin and practise swordplay all day. Nor write poetry. Now please, if you don’t intend to join us, kindly let us continue with our game. I’m sure you are very busy.’ Midori turned back to the game and began to shake the dice inside her cupped hands, dismissing Nico as if he were of no importance. He’d seen the look in her eyes, though, and her cheeks were slightly flushed. She was definitely not indifferent to him at the moment. Excellent!
‘I shall join you,’ he announced and sat down on the floor next to the others, folding his long legs with some difficulty. ‘I’ll show you what I mean and perhaps when you’re penniless you’ll understand. Start the game again, if you please.’
Midori threw him a suspicious glance, as if she mistrusted his motives, but rearranged the pieces on the board nonetheless. ‘Very well.’
‘Jochem, you may begin.’
‘Y-yes, Captain.’ The cabin boy looked uncertain, but Nico gave him a reassuring nod which put him at ease.
The weather had grown steadily warmer as they sailed south, and the perspiration poured off Harding’s bald head as the game went on. Nico could feel his own scalp prickling in the heat, but Midori showed no signs of suffering likewise. From time to time she lifted a fan to cool herself, although she didn’t seem to need it very often. It was a beautiful object, richly decorated with coloured flowers on a gold and silver background, an exquisite thing which must have cost a small fortune.
‘How do you do that, Mistress Midori?’ Harding complained after a while, his face bright red and shiny by this time.
‘Do what?’
‘Stay so cool. Anyone’d think it was the middle of winter, lookin’ at you.’
Midori smiled. ‘I have been trained to cope with extremes in temperature. My body accepts them if my mind tells it to.’
‘Hmph.’ Poor Harding obviously couldn’t make his brain understand such reasoning and Midori passed him the fan to relieve his suffering somewhat.
When he gave it back again after a while, Nico said, ‘May I borrow it too, please?’ Midori nodded and handed it to him. He made sure his fingers brushed hers as he took it, and noticed her twitch a little. ‘Thank you.’ He looked into her eyes and saw hers widen in response. Good, she feels the connection between us, too. So underneath the calm façade, she’s just like any other woman.
But he knew he was in danger of being more affected by her proximity than she was by his and he started to regret joining the game. Not only was he uncomfortable in the enclosed corridor where the heat appeared much worse than on deck, but he was having trouble concentrating while sitting so close to Midori. He glanced at her and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her dark auburn hair had been pinned loosely on top of her head with what looked to Nico like a pair of eating sticks. Soft tendrils fell forward to caress her cheeks as she concentrated on the dice in her hands. Nico silently gritted his teeth.
No woman should be allowed to look that delectable. He wanted to carry her off to his cabin this instant and …
He stifled a sigh. That wasn’t what he’d come down here for. A light flirtation, that’s all, he reminded himself. And he wanted to find out more about her – her thoughts, her likes and dislikes, what made her happy or sad. I should just talk to her. But something held him back.
One thing he did find out, and quickly, was that she was an excellent backgammon player and Harding had been right – she had the devil’s own luck. However hard he tried, he couldn’t make her lose and any lesson he had intended soon went out of the window.
‘Have you played before?’ he asked, knowing he sounded grumpy, but unable to do anything about it.
‘Not this particular game, but we have other board games. I played sometimes with my ladies.’
‘Your servants?’
‘Yes.’
Nico shot her a glance. ‘You must miss them. Looking after yourself is surely difficult when you’re used to being waited on hand and foot?’
‘Not at all. My mother taught me not to rely on others more than necessary and I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I was never waited on hand and foot, as you put it.’ She gave him an almost mocking bow. ‘But I thank you for your concern.’
Nico marvelled again at how different she was from any other woman he’d ever met, so self-possessed, so utterly unruffled most of the time. He looked up to find her eyes sparkling at him, a smile lurking in their depths, dispelling his bad humour. Had she seen through his ruse? She probably has.
‘Now, if you have finished teaching me a lesson, I find that I am growing hungry, so I think I’ll retire to my cabin. Thank you all for entertaining me.’ She stood up and bowed, then handed the money she had won to Harding and Jochem. ‘Here, you may as well take this back, then we can play again tomorrow. It’s only a game after all.’ She sent Nico a teasing look.
Touché, Nico thought and scrambled to his feet. He returned her bow with a more European version and couldn’t help but smile back at her. ‘Minx,’ he muttered.
‘We’d best be gettin’ our rations too, little one.’ Harding gathered up the game and pushed Jochem in the direction of the deck. ‘We’ll be back in a moment, mistress.’
‘Thank you.’ Midori stopped in her doorway and turned her gaze on Nico. ‘Would you perhaps care to have supper with me?’
Nico was torn. This was what he’d wanted, to spend time with her, but now he wasn’t sure. It wouldn’t be a good idea if he wanted to keep his sanity. In fact, it would probably be downright stupid. But what the hell … ‘Yes. Thank you,’ he said. ‘If you’re sure?’
‘Of course. We can leave the door open and Harding will be back soon.’
Nico hadn’t even been thinking about the impropriety of dining with her alone, but he realised now he should have been. He shook his head and followed her into the cabin.
Damn it all, I’m going soft in the head!
Chapter Eleven
‘So you believe in fate, do you?’
Captain Noordholt was sitting on Midori’s bunk, and looked to be enjoying his meal, although she’d had nothing to offer him except rice and char-grilled fish. She watched as he wielded his chopsticks like an expert, his long tanned fingers not awkward in the least. It pl
eased her that he’d bothered to learn when most of the other crew members used nothing but a spoon or their fingers.
‘Of course. Don’t you?’ Midori was surprised at his question.
‘I’ve been taught to live according to God’s law and that He governs all things, but to my mind, we can each of us change our fate by working hard. I confess I’ve not seen much evidence that praying has helped me overmuch.’
‘Ah, yes, your god.’ Midori nodded slowly. She had wondered if he would try to convert her to his faith, as Ichiro had warned her the foreigners would surely do. Harding had told her the crew held morning and evening prayers every day and anyone found missing had to pay a fine. So far, that hadn’t included her, but she fully expected to be asked sooner or later.
‘You weren’t taught about the Christian faith?’ The captain regarded her from under swathes of golden hair which had fallen across his cheeks as he bent over the rice bowl.
‘Yes, a little, but I chose to follow the Japanese way in such matters.’
‘I see.’ He seemed thoughtful, then added almost tentatively, ‘You do realise that might cause some problems with your English relatives?’
‘Yes, I’ve thought of that and I decided the best thing would probably be to say nothing. I won’t interfere in their beliefs.’ The captain stopped eating and stared at her, then burst out laughing. It was a lovely sound, low and rumbling, which seemed to send pleasurable shockwaves right through her, but Midori frowned, unsure of its cause. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
She almost didn’t hear his reply because she was entranced by the sight of him smiling so broadly. His teeth were white and even, tiny crow’s feet crinkled the corners of his eyes and there were grooves either side of his mouth, but they only added character to his tanned face and she found them most attractive. The blue eyes sparkled with amusement. As for his short beard, it was more like very long stubble and Midori was torn between a longing to have him shave it off and running the tips of her fingers through it to see if it was soft or harsh to the touch.
The Gilded Fan (Choc Lit) Page 10
