A HAZARD OF HEARTS

by Frances Burke

  ‘Don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you. Come into the light where I may see you.’ She stood back and beckoned.

  The boy rose gracefully then walked into the pool of light shed by the ship’s lantern. It swung in an arc that echoed the vessel’s motion, creating jigging shadows around the cabin walls. Glancing at the lantern, the intruder allowed satisfaction to chase the apprehension from his face. Jo-Beth wondered was it because they were at sea and could not put back against the wind? She studied the guarded face, the strong brows adding character, the mouth sweet and pink... Without warning she twitched the cap off, allowing a thick braid knotted with red thread to tumble down.

  ‘Well, well. I think I’ve caught a stowaway, and I think she’s a girl. Now, how do I discover your name, stowaway? Then what do I do with you afterwards?’

  The girl raised dark almond eyes to hers. ‘I can answer both questions. My name is Pearl, and you should take me to the Captain of this vessel, who will most probably throw me in irons.’

  Jo-Beth sat down suddenly on her bunk and stared, then laughed. ‘I must look like a startled haddock. But then, who would expect to find a Chinese girl aboard, and one who speaks English with an educated British accent?’ She paused and the twinkle left her eyes. ‘As to the irons, that’s nonsense. I’ll see to it. However, I’m afraid you’re right about the Captain. He’s in a terrible mood. You seem quite unconcerned at your possible fate, I must say.’

  Pearl’s thin shoulders shrugged. ‘I was warned, but I could not come aboard in any other way.’

  ‘Why did you risk it? Where are you going?’

  ‘To Australia.’ She sounded each syllable perfectly.

  ‘But why?’

  Pearl shook her head and closed her lips. She eyed Jo-Beth measuringly.

  ‘How did you know we were headed there? My father only two days ago insisted that this ship be diverted to take us to Australia – and mighty angry the Captain is, I may tell you. He’s a Boston man, a clipper man, not used to being thwarted. However, since Papa owns the line...’ Again Jo-Beth paused. ‘How I do run on. I guess I must be lonelier than I thought.’

  Pearl bowed, sagged, then dropped to her knees.

  Jo-Beth stooped to catch her, feeling like a Gulliver against the smaller woman’s frailty.

  ‘Oh, you’re just about worn to a thread. How long is it since you ate? Oh, dear. Don’t swoon on me. Here, sit on this chest. Have a sweetmeat.’

  She fetched a cup of water and watched Pearl devour a handful of dried plums, waiting until she had recovered. When the younger woman put down the cup and met her gaze, Jo-Beth said, ‘It’s no good, you know. You’ll have to tell me about yourself if you want my support. Stowaways are always put ashore at the first opportunity.’

  Pearl blinked, reminding Jo-Beth of an exotic cat, one with a typical feline desire to reveal little while having its own way. If Pearl had had a tail, its tip would have been quivering while she considered. Then she let out a sigh, as if releasing all the tensions that had brought her this far.

  ‘You are kind. I will tell you my story.’ This she proceeded to do, as prosaically as if she were listing laundry.

  Watching the expressionless face, Jo-Beth recognised the truth. No wonder Pearl was so guarded. Her bald recital was all the more telling for its lack of emotion, but it touched off a response in Jo-Beth. The tale having ended with the fugitive discovered, she sat back on her bunk and surveyed Pearl, trying to match her control.

  ‘I’ll help you. It’s infamous that you should suffer so much only to be defeated at the end. We’ll go to Captain Petherbridge and explain...’ Her voice trailed off as she frowned, eyeing Pearl’s filthy jacket and trousers, her gaze dropping to the ragged slippers, now bound in strips of cloth. ‘But those clothes will never do. First impressions are all important. Of course, my gowns will be too large, yet... Yes, I think I have just the thing.’

  Pearl stood up, swaying a little. ‘I must keep my jacket.’

  Jo-Beth shook her head and the red curls flew. ‘It’s beyond cleaning, I’m afraid. I’ll get you another one –’

  ‘No!’ Pearl sprang back in a crouch, her expression fierce.

  ‘But... Oh, very well. We’ll manage somehow. No jacket tonight, though. Not for your interview with Captain Petherbridge.’

  Grey eyes clashed with black in equal determination, yet a smile quivered at the corners of Jo-Beth’s mouth.

  Pearl suddenly relaxed. She stood up to remove her filthy jacket deliberately and slowly, folding it away behind the curtain where she’d hidden. She smiled, holding out her grubby hands. ‘Where shall I wash?’

  An hour later they faced Captain Ethan Petherbridge, who, having overseen the clearing of the river mouth, now stood at his ease, surveying the great sails stained by the sunset to crimson and gold, sails like wings strung to a mast reaching over eighty feet above the deck.

  Jo-Beth studied his grim face and decided he must be entertaining thoughts of ship-owners being boiled in oil or strung up to their own yard-arms. She favoured him with her best smile, then indicated Pearl’s diminutive figure, now garbed in a peach satin quilted jacket with one of Jo-Beth’s skirts, hastily gathered up and pinned from top to bottom. Her braid had been secured in a neat knot, her feet shod in a pair of slippers meant as a gift for a younger Loring cousin. Silhouetted against the last brilliant rays of light, her race was not immediately apparent.

  ‘Good-evening Captain.’ Jo-Beth’s voice was cream, with the practised assurance of a debutante three years ‘out’ in society.

  He raised his cap, and sunset light set his blond head and beard aflame. ‘Miss Loring, Miss...’ He frowned. ‘And who is this? I had no...’ He peered. ‘Damnation!’

  Pearl bowed. ‘Honoured sir, I freely admit to having stowed away on your ship and ask your pardon. I am, of course, prepared to pay my passage, if you will permit me.’

  Something like a growl issued from the Captain’s throat as Jo-Beth said hurriedly, ‘Please, Captain, be generous. This lady, Pearl, is the orphaned daughter of missionaries, an educated Christian woman. Why, she’s practically an Englishwoman. She cannot be left to the mercies of the cut-throat rebels who have killed her family and forced her into brutal slavery.’

  The Captain found his voice. ‘I see no evidence of slavery...’ He paused, seemingly surprised by his own irrelevance.

  Pearl slipped her jacket from her shoulder, displaying her brand. Then, adjusting her clothing she said serenely, ‘I escaped to Shanghai where I overheard a clerk in the shipping office speak of your changed orders to sail for Australia. He would not allow me to buy my passage, so I came aboard and hid. It was necessary. I must find my last living relative in the land of the south where men seek gold.’

  The Captain had regained balance. ‘Not on my ship.’

  ‘But Captain –’ Jo-Beth began.

  Another voice cut across hers. ‘What’s this? What’s this?’ A short, rotund man strolled towards them, cigar at a nicely adjusted angle, his fat little hands grasping his coat edges while resting comfortably on the swell of his stomach. ‘I thought I heard an argument.’ He stopped to stare at Pearl.

  Captain Petherbridge stiffened, a mastiff whose territory had been invaded. ‘Good evening, Mr Loring. I’ve been explaining to Miss Loring how it is we are unable to accommodate her... friend... on the voyage to Sydney. She will be put ashore at first landfall, wind permitting.’

  ‘My daughter’s friend, you say?’ Josiah Loring peered short-sightedly at Pearl. ‘My gracious. My goodness me. But she’s…’ His voice failed.

  Jo-Beth glared at her father. ‘Pearl is Chinese, yes. Not a Cannibal Islander. She needs our help, Papa, without any unthinking prejudice.’

  ‘Unthinking...!’

  ‘What have we here, might I ask?’ Amelia Loring’s voice blasted across the deck, clearing the way for her massive presence. No concessions had been made to a constricted life aboard ship, and her crinoline, as stiff and round as an
upturned tub, threatened to sweep the deck free of all obstruction, including other people.

  ‘My love...’ Josiah Loring did a little backwards dance step, as if trying to disassociate himself from the scene to come.

  Jo-Beth, quailing inwardly, moved a protective step closer to Pearl and prepared herself for yet another battle with her mother. The two men seemed to brace themselves, while even the helmsman, hidden in the dusk a few yards back, leapt momentarily and let the ship fall away an infinitesimal distance to the west.

  ‘Bring her back two points, Mr Jones.’ The Captain’s tone, quiet and even, was a lesson in control.

  Mrs Loring repeated herself more loudly. ‘I said... what… have… we… here?’ Her bosom, perched aggressively above her corset, heaved with the force of her words, and beads of jet swung and clashed.

  How ugly Mama’s voice was, to match her temperament, Jo-Beth thought. Well, she’d faced up to her often enough, knowing the price; she’d do it again for this poor waif. If she must, she’d stand up to them all. Pearl was not going to be put ashore.

  Afterwards she realised the issue had never been in doubt. Josiah Loring might have the power to alter the destination of a vessel in port, his wife might have the power to alter his decisions; but no-one on earth or ocean could supersede the power of a ship’s master at sea. Ethan Petherbridge made this quite clear, succinctly and without regard to anyone’s feelings, adding, ‘I never make judgements without having heard the full story. This young woman will give me her reasons for her action, which I shall weigh before coming to a decision.’

  Pearl bowed. ‘Your mother bore a wise son. May I say that I am prepared to pay my passage?’ She calmly unpinned her braid, producing from its depths the great black pearl filched from the Triad’s hoard. Even Amelia Loring ceased her storming to gasp and stare. Her hand, outstretched, clutched at thin air as the Captain took it from Pearl’s palm, slipping it in his pocket.

  ‘That will be ample reimbursement. If you remain aboard, I shall have the pearl valued when we reach Singapore and refund the difference.’

  Jo-Beth, momentarily stunned by her parents’ routing, had stood like a stock, as she afterwards berated herself. It was Pearl who had been gracious, almost regal in her thanks as the Lorings left in dudgeon, dragging Jo-Beth with them. Jo-Beth was disgusted with herself. All prepared to be the heroine of the piece, instead she’d found herself relegated to the background. The handsome Captain had barely noticed her, Miss Josephine Elizabeth Loring, Belle of Boston, accustomed to male admiration and to the gnashing of female teeth as she swept by. It was more than perplexing. It was unheard of.

  But the thought of her parents’ reaction to their defeat brought a smile to her face; and back in her cabin, where Pearl could now enter only in the role of servant, she hugged the girl delightedly.

  ‘Wasn’t it just the greatest thing? He was like a Greek deity on Olympus, detached, distant, calmly ordering the way things would be. And Papa’s expression! And Mama’s! Oh, there was never anything like it.’

  Pearl tittered delicately in her sleeve.

  Jo-Beth’s earlier petulance vanished while her voice softened. ‘He’s a fine leader, clearly respected by his crew. I’ve travelled with several ships since leaving Boston and I can tell you the men are usually either cowed or slovenly and defiant. But this is a happy ship, because of Captain Ethan Petherbridge.’ Disregarding her listener’s amused expression, she went on. ‘He’s not precisely handsome, of course – too rugged and unpolished. Yet there’s definitely something lion-like about him, with his curly blond mane and beard, and his eyes so golden brown and narrowed, seeking the horizon.’

  Pearl was dismissive. ‘God or lion, he is certainly massive. He is more like a mountain with muscles, as well as being badly scarred from temple to lips. Yet he can be kind. He listened to me. I will allow him to be a strong man, in mind and body.’

  ‘He must be, to vanquish my parents.’

  Pearl’s brows rose. ‘Do you dislike your family so much?’

  ‘About as much as they dislike me. I’m a terrible disappointment to them, you know. They wanted a submissive, featherbrained doll, accomplished only in the ‘ladylike’ arts , who would ornament the family name and marry to please them. Instead, they have me. Not only am I physically over-endowed, as you see, but I have an independent mind to penetrate the hypocrisy and self-serving that passes for social behaviour. Not to mention a love of shocking folk.’

  Jo-Beth let her grin fade. Sighing, she pulled back the bedcovers. ‘I’m sorry you have to act as my maid, but it’s the only way my mother can accept your presence. Captain Petherbridge doesn’t want to further antagonise my parents.’

  Pearl’s cat smile expressed understanding. ‘I am not troubled by this. I believe your Captain is wise to maintain the peace aboard his ship whenever possible.’

  ‘You’re so forgiving, Pearl.’ But she saw Pearl stiffen.

  ‘Not forgiving. I yield a skirmish to win the battle.’ She bowed and left for her bed in the narrow cuddy next door.

  Jo-Beth lay in the darkness listening to the sounds of the ship, which always seemed magnified by night. There was no silence out in the ocean but a rhythmic pulsation, a creaking and tapping and flapping and the thud of waves against the hull. The ship’s bell sounded the new watch and feet padded by the door. The cabin rocked gently. Jo-Beth fell asleep, curled tightly in upon herself, like a child.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As the great clipper followed its course south the long days stretched ahead with little to fill time for the passengers. For Jo-Beth, lonely for companionship, it was an opportunity to build a rapport with the most interesting woman she’d ever met. Pearl, mysteriously oriental, seventeen-going-on-fifty, challenged the traditional western view of womanhood. She fitted no pattern, refused to be restricted to one. And Jo-Beth, wildly rebellious against the physical constraints of her life, intellectually stifled and highly critical of the roles allotted to females by society, found her fascinating.

  Pearl was equally curious about Jo-Beth. ‘Have you truly been almost around the world? Tell me again about riding the camels.’

  Jo-Beth laughed. ‘Malodorous, cranky, rough-haired ships of the desert, but still infinitely preferable to being shut up all day in a horse-drawn omnibus to bump across the sandy wastes. We were glad enough to reach Suez, I tell you, and our Pacific and Orient Steamship vessel. That part of the journey through the Red Sea then down the western coast of India was truly beautiful. At night one could smell the land, the odour of spices and tropical growth born to us on a humid breeze. Magical.’

  ‘I have never before been beyond the Great River. The world is very large.’ Pearl sounded almost wistful.

  ‘Ha. Well, you may have my travels, willingly. We fled Boston in a snowstorm like criminals absconding. You see, I had disgraced myself. I’d caused a scandal, thus ruining my chances of an advantageous match. Mother couldn’t face her friends’ false sympathy. She also thought we should have a better chance of husband-catching in London, if we could get there ahead of my reputation. This failed, of course, and Mother rightly blamed me; so after eight months wasted we abandoned hope and took to travelling instead. Papa adores it, even, for once standing firm and refusing to return to Boston until he’s ready.’

  ‘What did you do that was so scandalous?’ Pearl sat like a tailor on the cushions of the saloon, her legs crossed under her, her borrowed skirt bunched and crushed and clearly, to her mind, an impediment. But her attention was centred on the other woman.

  ‘I fell in love with a married man and tried to seduce him.’

  ‘Seduce? I thought the word applied only to men, to those who bother to bedeck their intentions.’ Pearl curled her lip.

  ‘Not always. You may believe that in this case, the desire was mutual. Unfortunately, or perhaps not, my plan was discovered and I was bundled back home, my virginity intact. I could hardly say the same of my back and legs after Mother had finished the whipp
ing.’

  Pearl nodded. ‘But that is not what troubles you, is it? Did your lover fail you?’

  In the ensuing pause, Jo-Beth struggled to hold her voice steady. ‘He didn’t want me. It was all a game to him, so when he tired of it... He made a fool of me, playing with me like a toy to be handled and fondled intimately, then throwing me aside. He also acquired a fine story to regale his friends over the port and cigars.’

  ‘Ah. Humiliation. That stings.’

  ‘Betrayal, which is worse. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be the one piping the tune in future.’

  Pearl looked thoughtful, but held her peace.

  ~*~

  The weather grew humid as they entered the tropics. Jo-Beth called it a blessing, since it reduced her mother to a blob without sufficient energy to interest herself in her daughter’s activities. But she made no secret of her contempt for Asians in general and ‘the Chinese trollop’ in particular, and kept her busy cleaning and mending. As a result, Jo-Beth turned for distraction to what Pearl considered a far more dangerous pastime, the ensnaring of Ethan Petherbridge.

  However, her unsubtle approach – the pouting; the seductive smiles suddenly switched to pettishness; the parading and the coquetting, which had apparently entranced her former followers, failed totally. When confronted by womanly wiles, the gallant Captain merely raised a satirical eyebrow then withdrew. If this was impossible, he directed his attention to others present or called up a crew member for orders. His imperviousness drove Jo-Beth into a frenzy, and she spent hours plotting new ways to entangle him in her toils. Yet the more she strove to impress, the less success she had.

  ‘He looks at me as if I’m a child misbehaving,’ she wailed to Pearl, in the privacy of the cabin. ‘It’s an affront, and I won’t accept it. I had half of Boston at my feet, let me tell you, but this uncouth giant, this bumpkin, simply curls his lip when I encourage him a little. His brown eyes glint with secret laughter. Oh, I could just slap him!’