A private revenge

'Mr Fraser, do you see the launch? Damn it. but I want to be under weigh within the hour, before sunset at the latest ...'

Both men strained their eyes to locate the launch amid the anchored ships and bum-boats, praus and tonkangs that teemed in the sheltered waters.

'Beg pardon, zur.'

Distracted, Drinkwater turned. Tregembo stood before him.

'Well? What the devil is it now?'

'It's Morris, zur ... he won't leave your cabin.'

CHAPTER 14 The Winds of Fortune

January-February 1809

'I can help you, Drinkwater.'

This was a different Morris. Gone was the overt hedonist, the flaunting amoral character that sought to discomfit his old enemy. This was the wily man who had succeeded in trade, swindled or earned his enviable position at Canton and wherever else the winds of fortune had blown his perverted and unlovely carcase. Drinkwater saw, to his surprise, flashes of the old Morris he had first known, the tyrannical bully, but also the seaman and officer, the man of gentle birth whose sexual excesses, had they been discreet, might not have disturbed the outward life of a gentleman of substance and quality.

Drinkwater thrust aside Morris's blandishments. 'I do not want you on my ship a moment longer than necessary,' Drinkwater stated bluntly.

'But you want that Indiaman back, don't you?' Morris stood his ground. 'You are returning to search for her and have, I'll warrant, not the slightest idea where to look ...'

'What interest can you have in the matter? You and your silver are safely here in Penang; you can leave for Calcutta with the trade, my orders were only that I should see it safely this far ...'

'Do you think I have no interest in the specie aboard Guilford ...?'

'You showed precious little interest in the matter at the time ...'

'My dear Nathaniel, how you misunderstand and misjudge me. Of course I relished your embarrassment. I do not hold your values, I seek my amusements where I may find them. I do not offer my help out of friendship, you know me too well for that ... no, no ... But I do have an interest in the fate of that silver ...'

'Well, of what help can you be? broke in Drinkwater impatiently. 'Do you know where Guilford is now? How can you? Do you know anything of this coast? And what motivates this sudden about-face, this, this impetuous urge to assist?'

'Nathaniel, Nathaniel, your questions are too fast. Listen, I have told you, I have some interest in the silver; I alone brought it out of Canton in defiance of the Viceroy, its loss alone may be held against me, my business interests will suffer from its loss; my "face", my standing, my good name will be diminished. As to the coast, let me tell you I know both the estuaries of the Sekrang and the Sarebas Rivers, for I travelled on two Dutch ships and know them for haunts of the Sea-Dyaks.'

'But why ... ?' Doubts assailed Drinkwater, but Morris pressed on.

'When the Guilford was taken I was more amused by your discomfiture than the loss. Recollect how long I have waited for your humiliation. But now you are determined to return. That is a different matter. For a while we have something in common ...'

'You are offering me ...'

'Terms ... an alliance.'

'God's bones ...'

'Furthermore,' Morris persisted, 'I have charts, better charts than those there ...' Morris pointed to the half-unwound rolls of Hennessey's charts flung upon the cabin table until, later, Drinkwater could study them.

'See ...'

Morris turned, drawing the top off a leather tube that he took from a fold of his robe. He drew a tightly rolled paper and held it out. Drinkwater took it and opened it. It was remarkably detailed, annotated with neatly pencilled notes. He moved across to hold it in the light from the stern windows but Morris took it from him, rolling it up again with his pudgy, beringed fingers.

'A sprat, Nathaniel, to catch the mackerel of your good favour ...'

Drinkwater looked at Morris. The odium of him! He was almost wheedling in that mincing mode the seamen called nancying.

'You will let me have access to those charts?' Drinkwater asked.

'I will pilot you, using them. You need them only for the estuaries, your boats may search the edges of the swamps and mangroves.' Morris paused and Drinkwater hesitated.

You need me, Nathaniel,' Morris said softly, almost seductively, 'you need me to rescue your reputation ...'

It was true. Despite the doubts and uncertainties, it was true.

'Do you think we have the slightest chance?' Drinkwater asked.

Morris noted the plural pronoun. He had hooked his prey. He forced his features into a grave, counselling expression.

'A good one ... with a little luck ...'

Drinkwater prevaricated a moment longer, though both men knew his mind was made up. 'How much specie was aboard Guilford? he asked guilelessly.

Morris shrugged. 'Oh, ten, twenty thousand perhaps, certainly ten.'

Was the imprecision of Morris's reply sinister? And why had Callan himself lied about the amount of specie aboard his ship? For a moment or two Drinkwater stood indecisively, gauging the intentions of the man before him. He was already determined to turn back in quest of the lost ships, but he knew that he was without resources and that, intolerable though it was, Morris might be able to help. If, as he claimed, the good name of Morris himself would be impugned, then for a while they might hold something in common. Repugnant though the consideration might be to Drinkwater, honour and duty compelled him to submit to this personal humiliation in the hope of recovering the captured ships.

Drinkwater sighed. 'Very well, I’ll give the order to weigh.'

By the light of the candles Drinkwater studied Hennessey's charts. They were not comparable with Morris's, but adequate for strategic planning ...

Strategic planning!

The whole business was a mockery, a wild goose chase of the utmost folly, an attempt to save his ... what was it Morris called it? His 'face'. That barometer of a man's standing in the world. 'You need me to rescue your reputation,' Morris had said, and Drinkwater ground his teeth at being so beholden. There was a knock at the cabin door. 'Enter!'

'You sent for me, zur?'

'Aye, Tregembo ... what is the temper of the men? This is a testing time. Today they saw Penang and know it for an English post, now we sail south-east and only a fool knows that ain't for home.'

'Like you said, zur, I've given out that you've to clear the Dutchies out o' the strait, zur; said you'd orders for a month's cruise and that after that the Admiral's promised to hoist his flag aboard us for passage to the Cape.'

'Damn it, Tregembo, I didn't ask you to embroider my intention. Now you've made me a liar!'

'I've bought ye a month, zur.'

'Damn me!' Drinkwater's eyes met those of the old Cornishman. Yes, you have, and I thank you for it.' Drinkwater smiled. 'A month to keep us out of the Comptor, eh?'

'It'll not come to that, zur.'

'No.' No, it would not come to that. He no longer feared poverty, but there were other things. 'Thank you, Tregembo.' He bent over the chart, but the old Cornishman did not budge.

'Zur ...'

'Well, what is it?'

'Morris, zur, don't trust him.'

'I don't ... only I must, just a little.'

'Zur, I knows how you judged it were that young devil that played hokey with the compass.'