Sea of Poppies

'Come in, Reid!' Although the Captain was careful to keep his face averted from the light, Zachary could tell that he had been at some pains to freshen up, for droplets of water were glistening in the folds of his jowls and on his bushy grey eyebrows. 'And shut the door behind you, if you please.'

Zachary had never been inside the Captain's stateroom before: stepping through the door now, he noticed the signs of a hurried straightening-up, with a spread thrown haphazardly over the bunk and a jug lying upended in the porcelain basin. The stateroom had two portholes, both of which were open, but despite a brisk cross-breeze a smoky odour lingered in the air.

The Captain was standing beside one of the open portholes, breathing deeply as if to clear his lungs. 'You've come to give me an ear-wigging about Crowle, have you, Reid?'

'Well, actually, sir…'

The Captain seemed not to hear him, for he carried on without a break: 'I heard about the business on the jib-boom, Reid. I wouldn't make too much of it if I were you. Crowle's a knaggy devil, no doubt about it, but don't be taken in by his ballyragging. Believe me, he fears you more than you do him. And not without reason, either: we may sit at the same table while at sea, but Crowle knows full well that a man like you wouldn't have him for a groom if we were ashore. That kind of thing can eat a fellow up, you know. To fear and be feared is all he's ever known – so how do you think it sits with him, to see that you can conjure loyalty so easily, even in the lascars? In his place would it not seem equally unjust to you? And would you not be tempted to visit your grievance on somebody?'

Here the schooner rolled to leeward, and the Captain had to reach for the bulwark to steady himself. Taking advantage of the pause, Zachary said quickly: 'Well, actually, sir, I'm not here about Mr Crowle. It's about something else.'

'Oh!' This seemed to knock the wind out of Captain Chillingworth, for he began to scratch his balding head. 'Are you sure it can't wait?'

'Since I'm here, sir, maybe we should just get it done with?'

'Very well,' said the Captain. 'I suppose we may as well sit down then. It's too blashy to be on our feet.'

The only source of light in the stateroom was a lamp with a blackened chimney. Dim though it was, the flame seemed too bright for the Captain and he held up a hand to shield his eyes as he crossed the cabin to seat himself at his desk.

'Go on, Reid,' he said, nodding at the armchair on the other side of the desk. 'Sit yourself down.'

'Yes, sir.'

Zachary was about to sit when he glimpsed a long, lacquered object lying on the upholstery. He picked it up and found it warm to the touch: it was a pipe, with a bulb the size of a man's thumbnail, sitting on a stem that was as thin as a finger and as long as an arm. It was beautifully crafted, with carved knuckles that resembled the nodes of a stalk of bamboo.

The Captain too had caught sight of the pipe: half rising to his feet, he thumped his fist on his thigh, as if to chide himself for his absent-mindedness. But when Zachary held the pipe out to him, he accepted with an unaccustomedly gracious gesture, extending both his hands and bowing, in a fashion that seemed more Chinese than European. Then, placing the pipe on the desk, he cradled his jowls in his palm and stared at it in silence, as though he were trying to think of some way of accounting for its presence in his stateroom.

At last, he stirred and cleared his throat. 'You're not a fool on the march, Reid,' he said. 'I'm sure you know what this is and what it's used for. I'll be bail'd if I make any apologies for it, so please don't be expecting any.'

'I wasn't, sir,' said Zachary.

'You were bound to find out sooner or later, so maybe it's for the best. It's scarcely a secret.'

'None of my business, sir.'

'On the contrary,' said the Captain, with a wry smile, 'in these waters it's everyone's business and it'll be yours, too, if you intend to continue as a seaman: you'll be stowing it, packing it, selling it… and I know of no salt who doesn't sample his cargo from time to time, especially when it's of a kind that might help him forget the blores and bottom-winds that are his masters of misrule.'

The Captain's chin had sunk into his jowls now, but his voice had grown steadier and stronger. 'A man's not a sailor, Reid, if he doesn't know what it's like to be becalmed in a dead-lown, and there's this to be said for opium that it works a strange magic with time. To go from one day to another, or even one week to the next, becomes as easy as stepping between decks. You may not credit it – I didn't myself until I had the misfortune of having my vessel detained for many months in a ghastly little port. It was somewhere on the Sula Sea – as ugly a town as I've ever seen; the kind of place where all the giglets are travesties, and you can't step ashore for fear of being becketed by the forelift. Never had I felt as flat aback as I did in those months, and when the steward, a Manila-man, offered me a pipe, I confess I took it with a will. No doubt you expect me to blame myself for my weakness – but no sir, I do not regret what I did. It was a gift like none I've ever known. And like all the gifts that Nature gives us – fire, water and the rest – it demands to be used with the greatest care and caution.'

The Captain looked up to fix his glowing eyes briefly on Zachary. 'There were many years, believe me, when I smoked no more than a single pipe each month – and if you should happen to think that such moderation is not possible, then I would have you know that not only is it possible, it is even the rule. They are fools, sir, who imagine that everyone who touches a pipe is condemned instantly to wither away in a smoke-filled den. The great majority of those who chase the dragon, I'll wager, do so only once or twice a month – not for nip-cheesing reasons at that, but because it is that very restraint that produces the most exquisite, the most refined pleasure. There are some, of course, who know with their first taste that they will never leave that smoky paradise – those are the true addicts and they are born, not made. But for the common run of men – and I include myself in that number – to come unballasted over the black mud takes something else, some turn of fate, some vulnerability of fortune… or perhaps, as was the case with me, reverses of a personal nature, that happened to coincide with a debilitating illness. Certainly, at the time when it happened, I could not have had a better remedy for my ills…'

The Captain broke off to glance at Zachary. 'Tell me, Reid: do you know what the most miraculous property of this substance is?'

'No, sir.'

'I will tell you then: it kills a man's desires. That is what makes it manna for a sailor, balm for the worst of his afflictions. It calms the unceasing torment of the flesh that pursues us across the seas, drives us to sin against Nature…'

The Captain looked down at his hands, which had begun to shake. 'Come, Reid,' he said suddenly. 'We've wasted enough breath. Since we are launched on this tack, let me ask: would you not like to try a whiff? You will not be able to avoid this experiment forever, I assure you – curiosity alone will drive you to it. You would be amazed…' – he broke off with a laugh – 'oh you'd be amazed by the passengers I've known who've wanted to hoist the smoke-saiclass="underline" Bible-thumping devil-scolders; earnest Empire-builders; corseted matrons, impregnable in their primness. If you're to sail the opium route, there will come a day when you, too, will bleed the monkey. So why not now? Is it not as good a time as any?'

Zachary stared, as if hypnotized, at the pipe and its delicate, polished stem. 'Why yes, sir,' he said. 'I should like that.'