Jane Orcutt - All the Tea in China

There was, however, the small matter of the success of my journey from these docks to Gravesend. I had no ticket, and I did not think it likely that they would allow me to work my keep for the twenty-mile journey. I was confident that I could pull and coil rope as quickly and neatly as the sailors doing so at the moment, because fencing had made my arms and legs much stronger than was reputable for a young lady. But it would behoove me to find a hiding place until Gravesend. Surely there I could reveal my presence and be forgiven for my unlawful means of passage. I was, after all, on a mission.

Where to hide? Why, the last place anyone would expect to find a lady.

I headed in the direction I had seen the sailor take the last cow.

Thinking that I would have to skulk to be undetected, I crept behind all manner of woodwork and iron mongery, but the seamen were so busy at casting off that no one seemed to pay me any mind as I made my way to the lower deck.

Until someone clapped a meaty hand about my wrist. My alarm grew as I stared up into the visage of a most unsavory sailor, surely worthy of any pirate novel. “What are you doing, missy?” he said, jagged yellow teeth prominent behind his bared lips.

I forced myself to avert a swoon. “I spoke with Midshipman Bates just a moment ago.” There. That was not a lie.

He narrowed his eyes. “So you know where you’re to go?”

I nodded, fearing that any further words would betray my purpose.

He unhanded me. “Off with you, then. I’ve work to do.”

Alone again, I relieved myself of a sigh and continued my path. Where were those stairs?

At last I reached the lower deck, and aided by the sound of more than one poor bovine bellow, I found the stable area, if that is what it can be called. Cows were separated from hogs like some religious gathering, no, that was sheep separated from goats. No matter. The hogs grunted at me dubiously, but as I had no fear of cattle, I entered their stall and made myself at home.

No doubt it would be a while before anyone bothered to check on the poor creatures, so I settled in. I had no fear of the great beasts, as I had often insisted on helping the dairy man with his chores when I was a girl-much to his delight. Of course I had been forced to cease the practice once I attained the age of young lady, but I could not forget the warmth of a bovine flank nor the gratefulness of expression when the milking had concluded.

“Here now,” I said soothingly, rubbing the shoulder of one overly frightened Guernsey. “You will be cooped up for quite a while before you see true land again, I am sure, but you will be fed regularly and milked. Would you not like to be a Chinese cow? For that is where you are headed.”

Bossy stared at me with large brown eyes as if she understood. The other cows quieted too, but the pigs squealed uproariously.

“Traitors,” I mumbled. “Cowards.” I had never liked pigs. Loathsome, dirty brutes.

After I had tired of admiring the cows, which took all of twenty minutes, I found a tidy corner to sit in and began to consider my present predicament. Poor Flora must be watching and waiting for me. How could I leave her stranded at the dock that way?

Remorse set in with a vengeance. I braced my hand against the wooden rail to rise and was suddenly thrown back to the straw. The ship moved!

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” I muttered. “My decision is made. Again, Providence, I am sure.”

Though my heart felt resolved, I mourned Flora. In the unlikely event that my plan failed, our reunion would be all the sweeter and our laughter all the heartier. She would scold me for being impetuous, then we would be on good footing once again.

But surely my mission would not be deterred.

As the hours wore on, boredom sank in. I had the Chinese Gospel According to St. Luke tucked in my pocket to keep me company, and from my memory of some of the verses, I studied the characters as though deciphering a code. I was pleased to find several symbols repeated in several places. I could learn this language!

When I tired of this, I realized my stomach was rumbling. I had no notion of the time of day nor how I would ease my hunger pains. I weighed the prospect of venturing above deck in search of food, then realized that if I were found, I would no doubt be smartly put ashore at Gravesend, perhaps without ever seeing Snowe. I could not bear the thought of all my efforts ending in vain, so I ignored the rumblings and sang softly to myself.

At some point I realized that I faced danger of discovery on another front. Someone was bound to feed and water the cattle sometime, and then my presence would certainly become known.

“Perhaps if I feed you on occasion,” I murmured to the nearest cow, “anyone coming below deck to check on you will find you already fed and assume that someone else has seen to the task.” I paused. “Perhaps.”

It did seem to be a totty-headed scheme, but it was all I could concoct at the moment.

Surely I would be safe for today, so I would not worry about feeding the cattle until tomorrow. If only I knew for certain when that might be…

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.