Peary looked sulky. "You know how I feel about him."
"Yes," Scott said irritably, "I know how you feel about him. I also know that he's the only one of us who can speak Malay. Where're the Russells?"
"She's in our cabin and he's in yours," Peary replied acidly. "I'm going to sling a hammock on deck tonight; I'm damned tired of the fo'c'sle already."
Scott restrained a smile. His brother-in-law had come through the cabin window, as the saying went; he'd never shipped before the mast, lived in fetid, often wet quarters or spooned up food from a common mess kit.
"It stinks," Peary added.
Scott closed his eyes against the glare, feeling the tropical heat sapping the little energy left in him. "I'm going to turn in. Call me when Mr. Fox returns."
Russell looked up from the book he was reading as Scott entered. Without speaking, the captain stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt, kicked off his shoes, and flopped in his bunk. The older man remained sympathetically quiet, returning his attention to the volume in his hand.
"Tomorrow," Scott mused aloud, stretching himself in an effort to relax and bring on sleep, "I'm going to start learning Malay."
"It's easy," Russell said.
"Oh?"
"Both Dorcas and I picked up a good bit while we were prisoners, sir. I hope to perfect myself in it while we're on this coast. Perhaps I can be of service to you in that way."
"Maybe you can, at that," Scott said sleepily. . . .
Fox returned to the ship shortly before supper and Scott talked with him in the cabin.
"Pa' Mahmud's pepper is first-rate, sir," the second offcer reported triumphantly, "and I got it at eleven dollars a picul."
"Well done," Scott said, pleased. "How much can we buy?"
"Five hundred piculs, at least. He's got that much in Stallapoo now. And I think he can get more from the inland country. I'm going to cultivate Pa' Mahmud, sir . . . get to know him better. It could be beneficial."
"I'll buy that idea, Mr. Fox."
"He's a decent sort of fellow . . . for a Malay, anyway. As I told you in Charleston, I like the better-class natives. You just have to know how to handle them."
"You seem to have the knack, all right."
"I do, sir, and it can be made to pay."
13
WEIGHING and lading of the bagged pepper berries began soon after daylight within sight of the anchored brig. Once the procedure was established and functioning smoothly, Scott put Peary in charge of the station and freed Fox to further trade relations with the rajah. He himself returned to the Caroline, where the boatswain, a reliable man named Elias Kimbrell, was enforcing strictly the orders given for the safety of the vessel. Dorcas Russell and her father were watching deliveries to the ship's deck. This morning she wore a long-sleeved white cotton dress, which fitted snugly enough to disclose the firm contours of her bosom, and a wide-brimmed straw hat tied under the chin with white ribbon. To Scott, who now felt that all was right with the world, she appeared particularly fetching, so much so that he wondered that he hadn't noticed before; and he went over to where she stood with Russell near the main cargo hatch.
"Captain Rogers," she said without preamble, "we haven't set foot on the ground in nearly five weeks,"
"And you'd like to go ashore?"
"Mr. Fox said last night that he thought it would be all right."
The reference to the second mate irritated him slightly, but he dismissed from mind the thought that Fox was getting more self-important. "He and Pa' Mahmud seem to be hitting it off well."
"Yes, he told us," she said innocently. "We had quite a long talk after supper. He and Father are getting along famously."
"We're both interested in the Malay tongue," Russell put in. "I've been thinking that, with his help, I might attempt compilation of a dictionary. Not a complete one, of course, but something of value to mariners, such as yourself. It could be a step toward establishing myself at home . . . earn a few dollars, you know. Unfortunately Americans don't value scholarship very highly ... unless they've changed in the past twenty years."
"Mr. Fox wants to take us to meet Pa' Mahmud," Dorcas said. "Even after our experience with Suran, I confess to being curious."
"You musn't judge all Malays by Suran," Russell said mildly.
She smiled. "So Mr. Fox said, and I m trying not to."
"It's like judging the alcalde of a city by the leader of ruffians who lobbed you within the gates," Russell said pointedly.
"You're just quoting Mr. Fox, Father," Dorcas said.
Russell looked fondly at her. "She feels I'm too much of an innocent, Captain Rogers. Too bookish. Her mother felt much the same about me, I know."
She brushed the comment aside. "I do want to see the palace, Captain Rogers—and the rajah and his four wives."
"He's allowed that many by his religion, Dorcas."
"I know, Father." She looked directly at Scott. "Are you married, Captain Rogers?"
"My wife died this year, soon after my son was born."
Her face reflected genuine concern and her voice was warm with sympathy. "Oh! I'm sorry."
He hadn't thought of his loss recently; he'd been too busy being master of the Caroline. Now he remembered poignantly the love he and Rowena had shared. He spoke abruptly. "I'll escort you ashore after dinner, if you like."
"Thank you," she said gravely.
Scott walked over to the boatswain. "Everything going smoothly, Kimbrell?"
The petty officer, a broad, sunburned man with a square bulldog face, touched his forehead. "Aye, sir."
"I gathered that everything went off all right ashore last night, too."
The boatswain grinned. "It did, indeed, sir. That feller Hurst made out better'n anybody. That backwoodsman gets along with the natives, especially"—he shot a quick glance at Dorcas and lowered his voice—"the women. He could get together a harem in no time."
Scott turned away, full now of his own loneliness. If she hadn't asked me that question, he thought angrily, I wouldn't be feeling like hell now. I felt fine until then.
He was at midday dinner with the Russells and Peary, who had returned to the ship to eat, when the cry was raised from the deck: "A sail! A sail!"
Peary rose hastily. "I'll have a look, sir. Excuse me."
Scott restrained his own curiosity. Russell looked concerned. "I hope she's friendly, captain."
"We'll soon know. Meanwhile we may as well finish eating."
Peary was back in a few minutes. "I went aloft for a look through the glass. She's heading in. Brig."
"Probably another trader," Scott said thoughtfully as Peary returned to the food he had left. "Maybe one of the Salem ships. Good thing we've got the pepper at Stallapoo sewed."
"If we have," Peary grunted. "It seems to me it could be coming to us a lot faster."
"You're not having difficulties, are you?"
"Not yet. The rajah's man and I read the scales together. The trouble is, the stuff's just trickling down to the beach."
"We can lay that to native slothfulness, I suppose. Have you seen Fox since this morning?"
Peary grunted. "He and his lordship came down and stood around awhile, both of 'em under umbrellas held by native boys. They're pretty chummy, I'd say. Birds of a feather, maybe. Why don't you tell Fox to nudge the rajah a little?"
"I will."
"Well, I'd better shove off. You coming ashore?"
"After a bit."
An hour later, satisfied that the stranger beating her way inshore was an American, Scott took the Russells into Stallapoo. There were no natives about, and Peary and two sailors moved slowly from the sparse shade of a coconut palm to help haul the ship's boat higher on the beach.