This was why, when woken one night by a quiet but persistent knocking, Zachary's first response was to bark: 'Is that you, Pander?'
There was no answer, so he struggled drowsily to his feet, tightening the lungi that he had taken to wearing at night. He had bought several of them from a vendor: one he had strung across the unshuttered window, to keep out the crows and the dust that rose in clouds from the unpaved lane. But the cloth barrier did nothing to lessen the noise that welled upwards from the street at night as sailors, lascars and stevedores sought their pleasures in the nearby nautcheries. Zachary had discovered that he could almost tell the time by the volume of sound, which tended to peak at about midnight, tapering off into silence at dawn. He noticed now that the street was neither at its loudest nor quietest – which suggested that dawn was still two or three hours away.
'I swear, Pander,' he snarled, as the knocking continued, 'you'd better have a good reason for this, or it's my knob you gon be kissin.' Undoing the latch, he opened the door but there was no light in the corridor and he could not tell immediately who was outside. 'Who're you?'
He was answered by a whisper: 'Jodu-launder, sir.'
'Grease-us twice!' Taken aback, Zachary allowed his visitor to step inside his room. 'What the hell you pesticatin me for this time o'night?' A gleam of suspicion came into his eyes. 'Wait a minute – wasn't Serang Ali sent you, was it?' he said. 'You go tell that ponce-shicer my mast don need no fiddin.'
'Avast, sir!' said Jodu. 'Muffle oars! Serang Ali not sent.'
'Then what're you doin here?'
'Bring to messenger, sir!' Jodu made a beckoning gesture as if he were asking to be followed. ''Bout ship.'
'Where'd you want me to go?' said Zachary, irritably. In response, Jodu merely handed him his banyan, which was hanging on the wall. When Zachary reached for his trowsers, Jodu shook his head, as if to indicate that a lungi was all that was necessary.
'Anchor a-weigh, sir! Haul forward.'
Sticking his feet into his shoes, Zachary followed Jodu out of the boarding house. They walked quickly down the lane, towards the river, past the arrackshacks and knockingdens, most of which were still open. In a few minutes they had left the lane behind, to arrive at an unfrequented part of the shore where several dinghies lay moored. Pointing to one of these, Jodu waited for Zachary to step in before casting off the ropes and pushing the boat away from shore.
'Wait a minute!' said Zachary as Jodu began to row. 'Where you takin me now?'
'Look out afore!'
As if in answer, there came the sound of someone striking a flint. Spinning around, Zachary saw that the sparks were coming from the other end of the boat, which was covered by a roof of curved thatch. The spark flared again, to reveal for an instant the hooded figure of a woman in a sari.
Zachary turned angrily on Jodu, his suspicions confirmed. 'Just like I thought – lookin to do some snatchpeddlin huh? So let me tell you this: if I needed to pudden anchor, I'd know to find my own way to the jook. Wouldn't need no hairdick to show me the way…'
He was interrupted by the sound of his own name, spoken in a woman's voice: 'Mr Reid.'
He was turning to look more closely when the woman in the sari spoke again. 'It is I, Mr Reid.' The flint sparked again and the light lasted just long enough to allow him to recognize Paulette.
'Miss Lambert!' Zachary clapped a hand on his mouth. 'You must forgive me,' he said. 'I didn't know… didn't recognize…'
'It is you who must forgive me, Mr Reid,' said Paulette, 'for so greatly imposing.'
Zachary took the flint from her and lit a candle. When the fumbling was over, and their faces were lit by a small glow of light, he said: 'If you don't mind my asking, Miss Lambert – how come you're dressed like this, in a… in a…'
'Sari?' prompted Paulette. 'Perhaps you could say I am in disguise – although it seems less of a travesti to me than what I was wearing when you saw me last.'
'And what brings you here, Miss Lambert, if I may be so bold?'
She paused, as if she were trying to think of the best way to explain. 'Do you remember, Mr Reid, that you said you would be glad to help me, if I needed it?'
'Sure… but' – the doubt in his voice was audible even to him.
'So did you not mean it?' she said.
'I certainly did,' he said. 'But if I'm to be of help I need to know what's happening.'
'I was hoping you would help me find a passage, Mr Reid.'
'To where?' he said in alarm.
'To the Maurice Islands,' she said. 'Where you are going.'
'To the Mauritius?' he said. 'Why not ask Mr Burnham? He's the one can help you.'
She cleared her throat. 'Alas, Mr Reid,' she said. 'That is not possible. As you can see, I am no longer under Mr Burnham's protection.'
'And why so, if you don't mind me asking?'
In a small voice, she mumbled: 'Is it really necessary for you to know?'
'If I'm going to be of help – sure.'
'It is not a pleasant subject, Mr Reid,' she said.
'Don't worry about me, Miss Lambert,' Zachary said. 'My pate's not easily rattled.'
'I will tell – if you insist.' She paused to collect herself. 'Do you remember, Mr Reid, the other night? We spoke of penitence and chastisement? Very briefly.'
'Yes,' he said, 'I remember.'
'Mr Reid,' Paulette continued, drawing her sari tightly over her shoulders, 'when I came to live at Bethel I had no idee of such things. I was ignorant of Scripture and religious matters. My father, you see, had a great detestation of clergymen and held them in abhorrence – but this was not uncommon in men of his epoch…'
Zachary smiled. 'Oh it's still around, Miss Lambert, that aversion for parsons and devil-dodgers – in fact, I'd say it has a while yet to live.'
'You laugh, Mr Reid,' said Paulette. 'My father too would have pleasanted – his dislike of bondieuserie was very great. But for Mr Burnham, as you know, these are not subjects for amusement. When he discovered the depths of my ignorance, he was quite bouleversed and said to me that it was most imperative that he take personal charge of my instruction, notwithstanding other more pressing calls on his time. Is it possible to imagine, Mr Reid, to what point my face was put out of countenance? How could I refuse the offer so generous of my benefactor and patron? But also I did not wish to be a hypocrite and pretend to believe what I did not. Are you aware, Mr Reid, that there are religions in which a person may be put to death for hypocrisy?'
'That so?' said Zachary.
Paulette nodded. 'Yes, indeed. So you may imagine, Mr Reid, how I discuted with myself, before deciding that there could be no cause for reproach in proceeding with these lessons – in Penitence and Prayer, as Mr Burnham was pleased to describe them. Our lessons were held in the study where his Bible is kept, and almost always they were in the evenings, after dinner, when the house was quiet and Mrs Burnham had retired to her bedchamber with her beloved tincture of laudanum. At this time, the servants too, of whom, as you have seen, there are a great many in that house, could be counted on to retire to their own quarters, so there would be no paddings-about of their feet. This was the best possible time for contemplation and penitence, Mr Burnham said, and juste indeed was his description, for the atmosphere in his study was of the most profonde solemnity. The curtain would be drawn already when I entered, and he would then proceed to fasten the door – to prevent, as he said, interruptions in the work of righteousness. The study would be cast into darkness for there was never a light except for the branch of candles that glowed over the high lectern where the Bible lay open. I would walk in to find the passage for the day already chosen, the page marked with a silken placeholder, and I would take my own seat, which was a small footstool, beneath the lectern. When I had myself seated, he would take his place and start. What a tableau did he present, Mr Reid! The flames of the candles shining in his eyes! His beard glowing as if it were about to burst into light, like a burning bush! Ah, but if you had been there, Mr Reid: you too would have marvelled and admired.'