"Your memories of that day have run together like cheaply dyed textiles in the monsoon rain," Surendranath said.
"Excuse me, I was trying not to drown at the time."
"So was I."
"If they weren't fiends in human form, why did you jump overboard?" Padraig asked.
"Because I wanted to get to Surat, and those pirates, whoever or whatever they were, they would have taken us the opposite direction," said Surendranath.
"Why do you suppose we jumped out, then?"
"You feared that they were Balochi pirates," Surendranath said.
Padraig: "Those are the ones who cut their captives' Achilles tendons to prevent them escaping?"
Surendranath: "Yes."
Jack: "But wait! If they are Balochis, it follows that they are from Balochistan! If only they would stay put, that is."
Surendranath: "Of course."
Jack: "But Balochistan is that hellish bit that went by to port—the country that vomited hot dust on us for three weeks."
Surendranath: "The description is cruel but fair."
Jack: "That would be a Mahometan country if ever there was one."
Surendranath: "Balochis are Muslims."
Padraig: "It's all coming back to me. We thought they were Balochi pirates at first because they came after us in a Balochi-looking ship. Which, if true, would have been good for all of us save Dappa and you, Surendranath, because we were all Christians or Jews, hence People of the Book. Our Achilles tendons were safe."
Surendranath: "I must correct you: it wasn't all right for van Hoek."
Jack: "True, but only because he'd made that asinine vow, when we were in Cairo, that he'd cut his hand off if he were ever taken by pirates again. Consequently he, you, and Dappa were making ready to jump ship."
Padraig: "My recollection is that van Hoek meant to stay and fight."
Jack: "The Irishman speaks the truth. The cap'n took us between two islands, in the Gulf of Cambaye over yonder—whereupon we were beset by the second pirate ship, which was obviously acting in concert with the first."
Padraig: "But this one was much closer and was manned by—how do you say—"
Surendranath: "Sangano pirates. Hindoos who steal, but do not kidnap, enslave, maim, or torture, except insofar as they have to in order to steal."
Jack: "And who had apparently taken that first ship from some luckless Balochi pirates, which is why we mistook them for Balochis at first."
Surendranath: "To this point, you are speaking the truth, as I recollect it."
Padraig: "No wonder—this is the point when you jumped out!"
Surendranath: "It made sense for me to jump out, because it was obvious that we were going to lose all of the gold to the Sangano pirates. But van Hoek was preparing to fight to the death."
Jack: "I must not have heard the splash, Surendranath, as my mind was occupied with other concerns. Van Hoek, as you say, was steering a course for open water in the middle of the Gulf, probably with the intention of fighting it out to the end. But we hadn't gone more than a mile when we stumbled directly into the path of a raiding-flotilla, whereupon all of the boats—ours, and our pursuers'—were fair game for this new group."
Padraig: "Darkies, but not Africans."
Jack: "Hindoos, but not Hindoostanis, precisely."
Padraig: "Only pirate-ships I've ever heard of commanded by women."
Jack: "There are rumored to be some in the Caribbean—but—none the less—it was a queer group indeed."
Surendranath: "You are describing Malabar pirates, then."
Jack: "As I said—fiends in human form!"
Surendranath: "They do things differently in Malabar."
Padraig: "At any rate, even van Hoek could now see it was hopeless, and so he jumped, which was preferable to cutting his hand off."
Surendranath: "Why did you jump, Padraig?"
Padraig: "I fled from Ireland, in the first place, specifically to get away from matriarchal oppression. Why did you jump, Jack?"
Jack: "Rumors had begun to circulate that the Malabar pirates were even more cruel to Christians than the Balochi pirates were to Hindoos."
Surendranath: "Nonsense! You were misinformed. The Mohametan Malabar pirates are that way, to be sure. But if the ships you saw were commanded by women, then they must have been Hindoo Malabar pirates."
Padraig: "They are rich female Hindoo Malabar pirates now."
Jack: "Mr. Foot had run to the head, either to take a shite (which is what he normally does at such times) or to wave a white flag. But he tripped on a loose gold bar and pitched overboard. I went after him, knowing he couldn't swim. The water turned out to be less than two fathoms deep—I nearly broke my leg hitting the bottom. Accordingly, our ship ran aground at nearly the same moment. The rest is a blur."
Padraig: "It's not such a blur. You and I, Monsieur Arlanc, Mr. Foot, van Hoek, and Vrej waded, bobbed, and dog-paddled across those endless shallows for a day or two. At some point we re-encountered Surendranath. Finally we washed up near Surat. The Armenian and the Frenchman later failed the Intelligence Test and wound up in the army of Dispenser of Mayhem."
Surendranath: "Concerning those two, by the way, I have sent out some messages to my cousin in Udaipur—he will make inquiries."
They came over the top of a gentle rise and saw new country ahead. A mile or two distant, the road crossed a small river that ran from right to left towards the Gulf of Cambaye, which was barely visible as a grayish fuzz on the eastern horizon. The river crossing was commanded by a mud-brick fort, and around the fort was a meager walled town. Jack already knew what they would find there: a landing for boats coming up the river from the Gulf, and a marketplace where Pieces of India were peddled to Banyans or European buyers.
Jack said, "It will be good to see Vrej and Arlanc again, assuming they are still alive, and I will enjoy listening to their war-stories. But I already know what they would tell us, if they were here."
This announcement seemed to startle Padraig and Surendranath, and so Jack explained, "There must be some advantage to growing old, or else why would we put up with it?"
"You're not old," Padraig said, "you can't be forty yet."
"Stay. I have lived through more than most old men. Letters I have not learned, nor numbers, and so I cannot read a book, nor navigate a ship, nor calculate the proper angle for an artillery-piece. But people I know well—better than I should like to—and so the situation of Hindoostan is all too clear to me. It is clear when I watch you, Surendranath, speaking of the Moguls, and you, Padraig, speaking of the English."
"Will you share your wisdom with us then, O Jack?" Padraig asked.
"If Vrej Esphahnian and Monsieur Arlanc were here, they would tell us that the Marathas are angry, well-organized, and not afraid to die, and that the Moguls are orgulous and corrupt—that the rulers of this Empire live better while besieging some Maratha fortress than the Hindoos do when they are at peace. They would tell us, in other words, that this rebellion is a serious matter, and that we cannot get the caravan of Surendranath from Surat to Delhi by dint of charm or bribery."
"You seem to be telling me that it is impossible," Surendranath said. "Perhaps we should turn around and go back to the Habitation of Dust."
"Surendranath, which would you rather be: the first bird to jump off the ice floe, or the first bird to climb back onto it with a belly full of fish?"
"The question answers itself," Surendranath said.
"If you listen to my advice, you will not be the former, but you will be the latter."