Jane Orcutt - All the Tea in China

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I will have those books brought to your cabin as soon as possible.” He cleared his throat again. “The pea jacket ensures your warmth?”

“Yes. Thank you again for procuring it for me.”

“It will only be needed for the beginning of our journey. As we travel farther south, you’ll notice that everyone sheds their outer clothing.”

“I look forward to the warmth, as I look forward to many new adventures,” I said.

He smiled, touched his cap, and left. I did not quite know what to make of Mr. Gilpin.

Miss Whipple appeared on deck later, vowing cheerfully that she only wanted to breathe some fresh air. I considered inviting her to my cabin, which at least had a porthole for fresh air, but then remembered Mr. Gilpin’s warning. Snowe worked with Mr. Harrison and Mr. Akers, after all, and I did not want to bring criticism to him by my presence with Miss Whipple. I did not know if her reputation was known among the other passengers, but no doubt it soon would be. Being seen with Miss Whipple on deck could be accounted to coincidence, but a game of whist in the cabin clearly involved an invitation and willingness toward friendship.

Miss Whipple took one look at my navy blue sailor’s jacket and wrapped her own stylish black pelisse closer. “I cannot believe you selected that out of choice,” she teased.

“It may not be all the crack, but it is quite warm,” I said. “Mr. Gilpin gave it to me only this morning.”

“Ah, Gilpin,” she said, smiling. “Now there is a naval man for you.”

“I do not take your meaning.”

She leaned against the rail, her eyes fixed on the ocean’s gentle waves. “He is all that is right and good about the sailing profession. Duty, honor, charity. I suppose he has even mentioned his mother?”

“Why, yes, he has.”

She smiled. “I would lay you odds that he cannot break free of her grasp,” she said. “Why, he is probably interested in you, Miss Goodrich, but has no doubt already found something about your nature-or will find something-that would be troubling to dear Mama. And so he shall never approach you in anything more than a brotherly fashion.” She paused. “Like Phineas Snowe.”

I was not certain I cared for the turn of the conversation. “I am not after any man, Miss Whipple,” I said. “Nor do I want them to approach me in anything other than friendship.” And that, with Snowe, is dubious indeed! “I want only to complete my task, which is to get to China.”

“And what does Phineas say about that?”

How much should I divulge about our agreement? How much did she know, anyway? “He does not want me to go,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “He does not think it advisable, nor do the other passengers, apparently. Have you met them?”

She shook her head. “I have seen them from a distance. I avoided breakfast for that express purpose, though we are bound to meet at some point during this voyage.”

“What do you think they will say about you?” I said without thinking and, naturally, instantly regretted it.

She smiled. “I would hope they would comment on my fashionable dress or curly hair,” she said. “What would you have them say about me?”

“I only wondered if they knew about your rep-that is, your life, your, er…” I trailed off, certain my face was three shades of red.

“I do not think it is stamped across my forehead,” she said mildly. “If you choose to tell them, then of course I cannot stop you.”

“I have no intention of such!”

“Then… why must we speak of it?” She smiled as if to say that I was forgiven.

Snowe joined us later, and Miss Whipple made some excuse to depart. I had the distinct impression that neither of them cared to be present together in my company, and I wondered if they were at odds. “Is your company business settled?” I said as Snowe and I strolled about the deck.

“For now.” He said no more.

“Mr. Snowe, have you found-”

He stopped short. “Can you not refer to me as Phineas? It is my Christian name.”

I glanced down. “That would be unseemly.”

“We share a cabin. We pretend to be brother and sister. Would it not be better for our ruse to stay in character at all times? Suppose someone should overhear you call me Mr. Snowe?”

“I had not thought of that.” It did make a certain amount of sense. “I suppose you will want to call me Isabella?”

“If I may,” he said. His polite tone did not fool me; he would call me what he willed.

I pretended to agree. “Very well, then. As I was saying… Phineas. Have you found a sword for me?”

He sighed. “These things take time. I cannot simply conjure one out of the air.”

“Of course not. I would not want you to.”

We strolled side by side along the deck. The ship rolled gently along the water, and the sun warmed my unprotected head. Yet the touch of Phineas’s fingers on the arm of my new jacket gave me a chill. Who is this man?

I cleared my throat. “Mr. Snowe-”

“Phineas.”

“It occurs to me that I know little of either your background or your current affairs with the East India Company. You have the obvious advantage in that you know a great deal more about me-where I was raised, my family, for example.”

“Very well, what would you like to know?”

“Tell me about your family. Are they alive?”

“I grew up in the north country, near York. My father was an East India naval man and is no longer living.” He paused. “My mother, however, is still alive.”

“You mentioned before that you have a sister. Is that right?”

“Yes. My mother remarried, and I have one sister, as I mentioned earlier.”

“And your involvement with the East India Company? How did that come about?”

He shrugged. “I have long been interested in tea.” He stopped again and turned to face me. “Tell me, Isabella. Over the no doubt many cups of tea you have drunk in your lifetime, did you ever chance to think about where the precious leaves came from? Or did you, like so many, never think of them as traveling any farther than from your servants’ hands?”

Had I said or done anything to deserve such a rude tone? And did he think me so dull and uninquisitive as to never imagine life beyond Oxford? “Indeed, I often have thought on such. I have wondered about the hands that grew the leaves, nurtured them to fruition, picked them, carried them to who knows where to be purchased or traded then shipped to England.”

“I-”

I had read about tea and was just warming to the subject. “You are right when you say it is our lifeblood. I know the history of tea in our country is varied. For example, did you know that green tea was the popular type imported at first, then gradually black tea became more popular?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. “Have you ever had green tea?”

I shook my head. “I do not believe so, but I am interested in trying some.”

“Tea has been popular much longer in China than in England.”

“Indeed,” I said. “How many voyages have you made to the Orient?”

He shrugged. “I cannot recall.”

“But you speak the language well?”

“Fluently.”

He proceeded to walk aft, and I was forced to rush to keep up with him. I could hear the chickens squawking up on the poop deck, and I wondered if Mr. Swinney, the poulterer, were tending them. I also wondered how Bossy and the other milk cow were faring and resolved to check on them later. “Mr. Snowe?”

“Phineas,” he corrected.

“Phineas, then.” I sighed. “I know this will be a voyage of great length. Mr. Gilpin has graciously offered to loan me some of his books so that I may read to pass the time. As well as to improve my knowledge.”