Jane Orcutt - All the Tea in China

Miss Whipple twisted her hands in her lap. “You know of her?”

“I have heard him speak of her, yes.”

“We believe it best not to speak of my past in her presence, of course. He says that my personality is remarkably akin to her own. One of the purposes of a union between Mr. Gilpin and myself would be for me to live with his mother and care for her while he was at sea.”

She did not have to mention the beneficial purpose to herself, which would involve the abandonment of her former way of life. It was peculiar that she had mentioned the word purpose, just as Phineas had done when discussing our own marriage. Thomas Gilpin would have a wife with a dubious past, but he would be at sea for a great part of each year, so he would not have to look upon her often enough to be reminded. She, in turn, would have a home, and the elder Mrs. Gilpin would have a compassionate companion in her declining years.

It seemed as calculated as the navigation Mr. Calow performed with his compass.

“Julia, you may think me forward,” I said, “but has the word love entered into your conversation with Mr. Gilpin at all?”

“Love?” She blinked. “That is a luxury for certain people, Isabella.”

“Yes, of course,” I murmured.

I wished that I could unburden my heart to her. There was no lady aboard ship my age, no one with whom to confer. I forced myself to smile, and in thinking on their future, I did find joy. “I wish you all happiness.”

“We will marry in Macao, and I would consider it a great honor were you to attend… Phineas as well.”

“I would not miss it,” I said. “I cannot speak for Phineas, of course.”

She peered at me thoughtfully. “I thought perhaps you two seemed closer these days. Is it so?”

I schooled my expression. Julia Whipple knew many of Phineas and my secrets, but this was one to which she could not be privy. Particularly if she was Thomas Gilpin’s future wife. “Phineas and I are friends, naturally, but we have our own plans once we reach China.”

“Then you will go your separate ways, I suppose?” She shook her head. “It is probably for the best, no matter how I had hoped… Never mind. It is of little consequence.”

Our fellow passengers delighted themselves with the news. Unlike the proverbial leopard, the spots on Julia Whipple’s character seemed to abruptly change. She was now hailed as the heroine of the Dignity for giving her time so unselfishly to the wounded-particularly Thomas Gilpin. After the impending wedding was announced after dinner that day, Mrs. Akers took Julia under her wing without another mention of the past.

“I knew that those two were bound to wind up in matrimonial bliss,” Mrs. Akers declared loudly to everyone at the table. “You can see that they are quite compatible and evenly paired in temperament. Mind, I do not consider myself a matchmaker, but I thought I detected a hint of marriage in the air among us. I must confess that at first I thought it might be Mr. Gilpin and Miss Goodrich, but after that unfortunate incident with those heinous Frenchmen, I knew I was wrong.”

Captain Malfort cleared his throat, glancing at me briefly. “We are all pleased with the impending nuptials, which are to take place in Macao. The East India Company has a chaplain there.”

“Indeed!” Mrs. Akers looked at Julia Whipple. “But you must have a true clergyman, my dear. Without, it is simply unthinkable!”

“Chaplains are authorized to perform marriage ceremonies,” Miss Whipple said. “We thought it might be difficult to find a Church of England clergyman in Macao. After all, Catholicism is the dominant religious practice.”

“Papists!” Mrs. Akers fanned herself. “Oh my, no! You are right, indeed. Besides, it is rather romantic to be wed aboard ship, for after all, it is where you met.”

“Perhaps Miss Whipple and Mr. Gilpin did not intend to hold the ceremony on the Dignity,” I ventured.

“Of course they will,” Mrs. Akers said, staring at me coldly as though I had suggested they grow gills and marry underwater.

“We have not decided on a location yet,” Miss Whipple said, trying to smooth the conversation.

Captain Malfort raised his wine glass. “I would like to propose a toast, since this is our last dinner together before docking in Macao. To the new relationships that have been forged aboard the Dignity, in both hard times and good.” He smiled at Mr. Gilpin and Miss Whipple. “May they be blessed by the Almighty.”

“Hear, hear,” we said in reply, raising our own glasses. I took a sip of wine, catching a glance from Phineas over the rim. While the others laughed, distracted, he held up his glass slightly in my direction.

After all the long days, weeks, and months at sea, we docked at Macao. Phineas had told me a little of what to expect of the port. It had been a quiet fishing village until the Portuguese colonized it hundreds of years ago. It was still under their control, though it was considered a peninsula, connected to China by a small strip of land. When we docked and all were properly ashore, I felt as though I were, indeed, in a new world.

The port bustled with activity-ships of various shapes, sizes, and nationalities lay at the docks. Sailors loaded and unloaded mysterious cargo, primarily chests and crates stamped with Chinese characters. I was disappointed that the buildings all appeared British or Portuguese in their structure. Dominating the scene, however, were the mingling sounds of different languages. English, of course, and what must be Portuguese and even Dutch. For the first time, I heard someone besides Phineas speak Chinese. I was accustomed to his patient tempo, for as my teacher, he had wanted me to understand every word. Yet the workers on the ships and dock spoke so quickly I could scarce understand a word. When I said as much to Phineas, he smiled. “You will pick it up in good time, I am certain. Do not try to translate to English in your mind. Allow yourself to absorb the Chinese language on its own.”

We wandered the port together. I was no doubt as wide-eyed as a child, taking in all the sights. Birds squawked in cages, merchants hawked their wares to sailors in a peculiar language of animated Chinese and broken English. Phineas found a quiet, out-of-the-way place to eat, a tea house, where I sampled my first Chinese food-dim sum.

The building was crowded with other diners and noisy, like the vendors’ birds. A man brought stacks of bamboo baskets, steam rising as he lifted the lids, for us to choose what we wanted to eat. Phineas chose for us, speaking so quickly in Chinese that I could not catch every word. Or perhaps I was merely enchanted by the sight and smell of the food. What a selection! Some of the foods were steamed-pork spareribs and char siu bao, which were roast pork packed into fluffy white steamed buns. Some were fried-spring rolls, which were thin flour skins filled with carrots, cabbages, and mushrooms, and wu gok, a light, crispy dough filled with something called taro. (I did not inquire about its nature.) We also ate dumplings made of shrimp and wrapped with seaweed. Then dessert, my favorite, the custard tarts.

The food was sticky and sweet and fluffy and slipped from my chopsticks in my haste to eat and in my lack of skill with the foreign utensils. Phineas smiled and showed me again and again how to hold the two sticks between my fingers. Soon I was able to capture even a bit of rice.

All the while we dined on such scrumptious fare, we participated in the tradition of yum cha-drinking tea. Lots and lots of green tea, of which I could not seem to get enough. Dim sum means “to touch the heart,” and by the time we had finished eating, my heart already felt touched in this new world.

I was accustomed to a society where people spoke in polite tones and acted civilly, at least on the surface. In between the smiles and polite words, however, one could say just about anything about another person. A quick observation of the Chinese men at the next table made me realize that there was nothing polite or subtle-by my British standards-about their speech. They yelled at, berated, and argued with one another to the point that I winced. I could only understand every other word, but perhaps that was to my advantage.