Drinkwater, in receipt of his orders, wanted only to be out of the river and on his way to Penang. Fortunately Drury had hauled down his flag from Patrician's main-masthead and had returned to Russell, pondering his next move and reading the riot act to the dithering Selectmen.
'If neither peace nor commerce is to be had by an act of war, I never will sanction the slaughter of those defenceless multitudes,' Drury had said to them in Drinkwater's cabin before his departure. 'We have trampled under foot every moral law of man and nations, and the poor defenceless Chinese have been infuriated to a frenzy ...'
Something of the fighting-cock had had to explode from this exemplary lecture and poor Drury, having been humiliated personally in his attempt to act to the satisfaction of all parties, suddenly reacted angrily, perhaps contemplating how fortunate the boat expedition had been in avoiding real casualties.
'However, gentlemen, if one of my seamen had been, or is killed, I will destroy Canton. Therefore recollect what you will have to answer for. I gave you quiet possession of Macao, but I tell you no hostile act shall be committed against the Chinese, unless a man is killed, which nothing but the most singular accident has prevented. The seamen under my control have borne to be fired at, but once let loose,' the admiral finished dramatically, 'no power on earth can stop 'em!' Out of tact or embarrassment no one mentioned Drury's failure to bring off a single piece of silver specie.
The Select Committee had been packed off to finish negotiations with the mandarins from the luxurious quarters of the Stirling Castle, East Indiaman, while Drinkwater gathered the few ships that were ready to proceed and prepared to depart with this small convoy.
And now a boy was asking for him.
'What does he want, Mr Belchambers, have you ascertained that?'
'Well, sir, beg pardon, sir, to see you.'
"You had better bring him down then.'
Belchambers seemed to hesitate.
'What is the matter now?'
'Well, sir, Mr Quilhampton voiced an opinion that the boy might be an, er, assassin, sir ...'
Drinkwater laughed. 'That's most solicitous of Mr Q, Mr Belchambers. It does not occur to you that the lad is doubtless a servant from one of the Indiamen.'
'That's unlikely, sir ...'
'Oh?' Drinkwater's temper was shortening. He had other matters to consider and a final letter of instruction to draft for the masters and commanders of the convoy.
'Yes, sir, he came down river in a sampan.'
'Bring him below,' Drinkwater snapped, meeting Derrick's eye as the clerk, penned in the cabin by this odd exchange, now slipped out to co-opt the midshipmen as copy-clerks.
Drinkwater bent over the chart that lay on his table. It was a survey by Huddart, and Ballantyne had laid off the best course for them to follow, south and then south-westward towards the tip of the long Malay peninsula. Such was his preoccupation that he had almost forgotten the announced visitor when the hobbling Belchambers showed the boy in.
He was shorter than the midshipman, and possibly two or three years younger. His features were neat and small, almost feminine, with huge brown eyes outlined with a hint of kohl. He bowed, displaying a jewelled turban, and drew from his loose sleeve a letter.
Drinkwater took the letter, an amused smile playing about his mouth, for in the shadows beyond the diminutive exotic, Mr Midshipman Belchambers stood anxiously, his hand on a half-drawn dirk.
Drinkwater slit the wafer, half turning to the window to read the message.
Canton
20th November 1808
To the Officer Commanding the Convoy Bound for India
Honoured Sir,
Knowing your Imminent Preparations for Departure and the Frustrations your Party has Suffered in its Attempt to recover the Silver owed the British Merchants by the Rascally Hong, I have it in my Power to carry off most of the Specie at the time of your sailing if, in the First Part you Signify at what time this will occur and, in the Second Part you allow Myself and a Servant to Embark in your Frigate. The Matter to be Secret between ourselves.
Please convey your Answer to the Bearer. He is dumb but understands English. I am, Honoured Sir,
Your most humble and obedient Servant,
A Friend.
Drinkwater read the letter through twice. It could be a ruse, of course. Information as to the convoy's sailing could be passed to the forts at the Bogue, or to the pirates of the Ladrones. But that information could as easily be signalled, for it would take several hours for the convoy to drop down river and they could scarcely do so unnoticed. In any case Drury had promised them the escort of the Phaeton until they were clear of land.
On the face of it this unknown 'friend' was obviously anxious to buy his way out of what might prove a dangerous place for a European, and had the decency to attempt to recover what the British merchants most desired. Yet why should the man insist on secrecy when he was proposing to achieve what the British merchants wanted?
To cheat them? Perhaps, and that was why he wanted passage in a frigate rather than a merchant ship. Drinkwater looked at the boy. He was dumb, yet the face was intelligent, and it watched Drinkwater with the passive observance of something feral. He thought for a moment of calling away his barge and consulting Drury, but he knew this boy would take news of his indecision back to his unknown master.
Besides, Drury had employed Drinkwater on the task for his experience, and he had a mind to get to the bottom of what would doubtless turn out to be no mystery at all.
'Tell your master ...no, wait, I'll write.'
He turned to his desk and picked up his steel pen, searching for the ink-pot that Derrick had moved.
The boy was suddenly beside him, the smell of scent wafting from his small body. Drinkwater felt a small brown hand on his arm and the dark, liquid eyes were staring up at his face. Behind them there was a shuffling movement, and the evening light glancing off the river gleamed on the naked blade of Belchambers's dirk.
But these were details on the periphery of Drinkwater's perception. Afterwards he considered the value of the stones in the boy's turban and the oddity of his prominent and pixie ears. In the moment of arrest, as the boy strove to prevent Drinkwater committing anything to paper, he was aware principally of the hollow of the boy's mouth, and the insistent grunts that filled its tongueless monstrosity.
He dreamed that night; a restless half-sleep full of terrors. He was flung down and drowning, drowning in waves of Elizabeth's hair that caught and clung to his struggling body, drowning in the laughter and shouts and smiles of thousands upon thousands of Chinese whose narrow eyes and loose, gaudy clothing seemed to have displaced his wife's tresses and moved with the overwhelming restlessness of the sea. Then he was fighting for air, surfacing in this very cabin, dark, lonely and cold. But there was a sweet and seductive laughter beyond the door and he struggled towards it in anticipation of all the delights of the flesh that he had for so long lived without.
But the woman beyond the door was ghastly; a horror of all the nameless, haunting horrors that mocked a man out of the darkness of his own desire. He drew back, pursued. The hag metamorphosed into the little Indian messenger who, mouth open, came to engulf him with his tongueless hole from which, Drinkwater fancied, the very sulphureous stink of hell itself seemed to emanate. And all about him laughter rang in his ears, laughter from Chinese and Indian and European faces ...