Jane Orcutt - All the Tea in China

“No, miss. These birds will depart from us long before we reach the Orient. They’ll be food for the captain’s table.”

“I see.” I wondered that I had not been intelligent enough to deduce this for myself.

Several large lanterns hung at the end of the ship. “Excuse me, Mr. Swinney, but what are these for? They are not intended as a side dish with the chickens, are they?”

Mr. Swinney grinned, rubbing his hands together to disperse the leftover grain. “No, miss. They are for signaling other ships. Excuse me, miss, but I wouldn’t want the captain to find me dawdling about.” He departed with a slight bow.

During our exchange, Miss Whipple had ventured to the edge of the ship. She stood transfixed, scanning the horizon behind us and the divided path of the water our ship made. “If you don’t mind the fowl, it’s quite beautiful here.”

“It is interesting to see the wake of the Dignity,” I said. “To think of where the ship has gone, and no one to know we were here… unless we are spotted, of course.”

“And we pray that does not happen,” she said. “I have heard tales of French privateers boarding East Indiamen. I have no desire to see crewmen or passengers killed in such an exchange.”

“Of course not,” I murmured.

“But come,” she said, linking arms with me again. “Let’s put such horrible thoughts behind us and examine the rest of the Dignity. Who knows but that we might run into Phineas Snowe?”

The thought made my nerves jump. Naturally, I should thank him properly for rescuing me, but seeing him now somehow seemed too soon. “I believe I could travel the entire voyage and not miss his presence,” I murmured.

Miss Whipple squeezed my arm playfully. “And yet you long to serve alongside him as a missionary?”

I could not respond. Uncle Toby and Flora had each told me-on separate occasions-that spontaneity was my dear friend but a more potential worst enemy. I sometimes rushed headlong like an adventurous calf but took no notice of the gate securing my safety.

I found walking a trifle precarious, but Miss Whipple assured me that I would quickly gain my sea legs. Amidships, she paused beside the lifeboats lashed to long, thick poles. “What are those?” I said.

“Spare spars. They can be used to replace a mast or boom or gaff.”

“The poles that hold the sails?” I struggled to remember any nautical terms I might have learned.

“Yes,” she said, then drew a deep breath of air. I did the same, thankful to be outdoors instead of cramped below deck or even in a cabin. The sun shone warm and the air held a tang of salt that tickled my nose in a not unpleasant manner. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” she said. “I can understand why men long to go to sea.”

“Have you been aboard a ship before?” I asked.

A peculiar expression crossed her face. “No, but I was raised in Portsmouth. I am familiar with ships and those who sail them.”

Remembering her own reason for being aboard the Dignity, I endeavored to change the subject. “Perhaps, then, you can tell me the names of some of the sights, for beyond the three masts that I see, I am at quite a loss.”

“I thought you had learned much from books?”

“I confess that I know a smattering of names and a general idea of their location aboard ship, but I cannot place the two together.”

As we slowly made our way forward, I found myself clinging to Miss Whipple as my legs found their bearing on the unsteady deck. I also needed her emotional support as well in these unfamiliar surroundings. She, however, walked gracefully with her head high, nodding at the sailors, some of whom politely responded and others who only grinned and went about their business.

“Where are the other passengers?” I whispered. At Oxford, I was accustomed to being the only woman in sight, but there I was around gentlemen. Here I felt like a scholarly lamb among wolves, though Mr. Swinney, the poulterer, had been naught but polite.

Miss Whipple smirked. “The last I saw of the husbands, they were tending their wives below deck. Seasickness, still. You are fortunate to be past that. The sailors told me that sometimes passengers go ten days before they are well. At least the captain’s table will be empty for a few days yet. Besides the officers, Phineas and I have been his sole companions since we set sail.”

Canvas flapped above my head, and I stopped short. Miss Whipple released my arm, and I leaned back, trying to catch a glimpse of the highest sail. “I feel like a child beneath a laundry line,” I murmured, feeling small and insignificant. “I am sure each sail has a name, does it not? And however do those sailors manage to climb the ropes?”

“It is called the rigging,” she said. “And as for the sails, I am not quite certain. We shall have to ask the captain. Hello, sir.”

Startled, I jerked my gaze downward to its normal level. A man of some three score with a white wig and resplendant uniform stood beside Miss Whipple. Fortunately, his ruddy complexion and poorly suppressed smile told me I had nothing to fear. “So this is our stowaway, eh?” he said, affecting gruffness.

I trembled nonetheless. “Y-yes, sir. I am sorry, sir.”

“Miss Goodrich, this is Captain Stephan Malfort. Captain, this is Isabella Goodrich.”

I curtsied.

“At your service, miss,” he said with a bow. “Pray tell me what was so urgent that you risked life and limb to be with your brother?”

This I could answer without fear. I explained about my calling from God and how I must get to China. “It is a burning in my heart,” I said, then pressed my case. “I am certain that it is not unlike your passion for the sea.”

He smiled. “My passion is somewhat more pecuniary than yours, but aye, there is something wanting in my soul that being at sea fulfills. Still, I can’t imagine following a sibling to the detriment of my own health, not to mention avoiding fare passage, as you have done.”

“I am sorry about that, Captain,” I said. “I hope I can repay the money to the East India Company.”

A shadow fell across the deck. “No need to worry about that, dear sister,” Phineas said, looping an arm through mine. “I have already paid the captain for your rather unexpected passage. At least for the portion of the trip during which you will be aboard ship. But I must say that I am delighted to find you in better health.”

I tried not to cringe at his touch. Miss Whipple looked on in amusement.

“Ah, Mr. Snowe,” Captain Malfort said. “It is indeed a delight to meet your sister at last. But one thing troubles me.”

The muscles in his arm seemed to tense. “Yes?”

“Why is it that you and your sister have different last names?”

He relaxed. “In truth, Captain, we are only half brother and sister, raised by different parents, of course.” The lie sprang a little too easily from his lips. Not an admirable quality for a man of the cloth! “Miss Goodrich was raised by an uncle at Oxford, Mr. Tobias Fitzwater.” That, at least, was not prevarication.

“Ah,” the captain said, as though it explained everything. To my taste, it certainly did not.

Miss Whipple smiled. “Captain, just as you joined us, I told Miss Goodrich that we should ask you for the names of the many sails above us. Would you do us the honor now?”

Snowe released my arm. “As I am familiar with such terminology, you will excuse me if I take my leave then, Captain. Miss Whipple.” He bowed, and upon rising, looked directly at my eyes. “Isabella.”

The sound of my name in his voice bred confusion in my soul. He headed aft, and I wanted to follow him, for I had many questions yet for Phineas Snowe. Captain Malfort, however, was already pointing up high. “The upper sail is called the main topgallant, below that the main topsail, and the one nearest us is the mainsail. That one is the main topgallant staysail, and the one aft is the mizzen topgallant.”