Julian Stockwin - Artemis

Scrufty Weems muttered, 'If this is yer "start" then God 'elp us at the "finish"!'

'An' if you're slack in y'r ways on deck, you c'n be sure there's a bo'sun's mate'll start ye with his rope's end, sure enough.'

Kydd knew they had to get the two soldiers before the Captain very shortly, for any real stowaways would have shown themselves as soon as the ship reached the open sea. 'Now, c'n ye tell me, what are the sea watches in order, startin' with the middle watch?'

With the northerly monsoon driving boisterously at them from astern, and the positive effect of the clockwise ocean vortex of the Bay of Bengal, they made excellent time south, aiming for the Malacca strait, the narrowing passage between Malaya and Sumatra.

'Down, y' scurvy dogs!' Kydd thrust the two soldiers at the feet of Captain Powlett, who had just begun his morning pace of the quarterdeck.

'What the devil?' Bunce and Weems had on old sailors' gear, but their walnut juice disguise had faded to a scrofulous blotchy streaking.

'Stowaways! Found 'em in the forepeak, sir.'

Powlett stared. The men got to their feet, staggered slightly at a playful heave of the deck, but touched their foreheads smartly enough.

'Aye, sir, we'em from the old Mary Jane brig, 'n' we want t' be part of the crew o' the famous Artemis?

Powlett glowered. 'So you thought to desert your shipmates and join the King's Service when it suited you.'

'Whoy, no, sir!' Bunce replied. 'The boat is in, er, ball'st, waitin' this two month fer a cargo, an' we're rare flummoxed as t' how to get out ter sea agen.'

'What rate are you?'

'Sir?'

Kydd said quickly, 'Claims they're able seamen, sir.'

'Oh, yez, that's what we are, then,' said Bunce.

'Then be so kind as to climb the larb'd mizzen shrouds and touch the cro'jick tye block,' said Powlett lazily.

Bunce caught Kydd's hurried hand signal. 'Ah - we would, er, do that if'n we worn't so bad in th' back. See, we had to 'aul up on this mast thing, an' it did fer me back, it did. Be roight in a coupla days, I guess.'

Powlett's smile thinned. 'And you?' he asked Weems, who started with apprehension.

'Me too, yer honour, I wuz with 'im when we both did in our backs.'

Fairfax pushed forward. 'Wharf rats, that's what they are!' he spluttered. 'They're no seamen! We must put 'em ashore, sir, before—'

'No — recollect, sir, we are on a mission of some delicacy,' Powlett said. 'No one goes ashore.'

He paced around the pair, jaw clamped. 'We landed three sick at Calcutta, I must allow as the appearance of this pair is not unwelcome.' He stopped, and a thin smile appeared. 'Mr Fairfax, rate these two Landman, but as Mr Kydd found them, he can be responsible to see they measure up.'

The two soldiers snapped to attention, saluted smartly Army fashion and doubled away forward. Jaw dropping, Powlett stared after them; Kydd quickly touched his hat and mumbled, 'I’ll see they measure up, sir,' and hurried after them.

A bare week later they had passed the new settlement of Penang to larboard, keeping close in with the land to catch the useful southward current, and entered a different, more airy kind of tropical regime. The sailing master had not passed this way since his youth, but his memory was sure, and they sailed on confidently past Malacca.

At almost the line of the equator they approached the southern tip of Malaya. Artemis ghosted along in the sultry stillness preceding the usual regular dog-watch deluge. Under the awning aft muslin clung damply to female limbs as the women chattered excitedly, exclaiming at the riot of jungle greenery and coconut palms.

Over the still water came the clatter of wings as a covey of parrots rose into the air, their squawks ignored by the troop of monkeys swinging through the dense foliage underneath.

'Enchanting!' said Lady Elmhurst. 'I say, Mr Prewse,' she said to the Master, 'have we time do you think to take a small picnic on the land over there?'

'My lady, I don' think it so advisable, if you takes me meaning,' Prewse said, removing his old tricorne to mop his forehead.

'No, I do not at all take your meaning,' Lady Elmhurst snapped. Her fan increased its tempo as she turned to Powlett. 'Captain Powlett, surely an hour or two on the land will not discommode you — we have after all been cooped up in this little ship for weeks now.'

Powlett removed his cocked hat with a pleasant smile, but thwacked it at his side. 'Mr Prewse, do you think it advisable for the ladies to step ashore in this particular place?'

Prewse rubbed his chin. 'It's a lovely part o' the world, that I'll grant, but there's a mort o' bother ashore. First, we have the tigers.'

'The tigers? This seems—'

'The tigers, milady. Over there they runs free, an' you can't see 'em in these woods until theys on you, all roarin' and big teeth. Then there's y'r snakes.' He paused — the fan stopped. 'Biggest in th' whole world, they is here, long as y'r main yard,' he said quietly, pointing out the largest spar in the ship. 'Hides near a brook, hangin' down from the tree quiet like. Eats a whole goat at one gulp when it comes down t' drink.'

He scratched his head. 'Then you've got y'r Dyaks. Bad joss, is they. Nasty cannibals they are, saves the head f'r to decorate their homes, but eats the rest on a slow fire. Comes down the coast fast in their three-piece canoes, on y' quick, 'cos you can't see 'em in this. S'pose I could land a party of marines, armed seamen, with ye. You'd have a good chance then—'

'Thank you, there will be no need. I now recollect that my husband has impressed upon me the need for despatch. We need to press on, I believe.'

Once around the peninsula they were in the South China Sea. Imperceptibly, the seascape changed. The glaring equatorial seas gave way to a hard cobalt blue, and then by degrees, as they progressed northward against the winter monsoon, to a particular shade of jade-green.

The fishing boats they encountered as they tacked towards the China coast were of an unknown appearance. Their keel-less hull form, more like a banana than a sea-boat, had a baleful multi-coloured eye painted on the bow. Kydd's seaman's eye, however, saw that the violent bobbing and rolling was an effective method of keeping the craft dry. There was not an inch of water shipped, despite the considerable seas, and the tiny fisher-children were entirely at home in the tumultuous motion. Closer to the mountainous grey-green seaboard there were more of the strange three-masted craft, their ribbed sails distinctive against the coastline.

The winter monsoon was cold off the sea, and had the seamen rummaging in their chests for Channel warmers. Artemis closed with the anonymous shoreline, bound for the Pearl river and Canton, their landfall in China.

'What does it all mean, Nicholas?' Kydd asked over his grog, pointing at Renzi's book. There was a real need for rum to warm the cockles, the streaming north-westerly monsoon being so stern. He had seen hardly anything of his friend since Calcutta: Renzi's interest in the Orient was insatiable and he had spent every spare minute with his volumes and in discussion with the savants.

'To understand this, my friend, you must know that the Chinese have now the most mighty civilisation on this earth.'

Kydd opened his eyes wide. Others were not so sure, and looks were exchanged. 'You're saying as . . .'

'Yes. They can trace their history in a straight line from before the ancients of our race right up to the present Emperor, Chien Lung. You may believe that in that time they have learnt something of the arts of civilisation. And its size! A hundred or more times ours, stretches from the frozen north to the tropics, and from the Pacific half across all Asia. It's amazing! The people - why, there are so many that it is thought that one out of every three or four souls on earth is Chinese.'