All the Tea in China

by Jane Orcutt

  We wandered the port together. I was no doubt as wide-eyed as a child, taking in all the sights. Birds squawked in cages, merchants hawked their wares to sailors in a peculiar language of animated Chinese and broken English. Phineas found a quiet, out-of-the-way place to eat, a tea house, where I sampled my first Chinese food—dim sum.

  The building was crowded with other diners and noisy, like the vendors’ birds. A man brought stacks of bamboo baskets, steam rising as he lifted the lids, for us to choose what we wanted to eat. Phineas chose for us, speaking so quickly in Chinese that I could not catch every word. Or perhaps I was merely enchanted by the sight and smell of the food. What a selection! Some of the foods were steamed—pork spareribs and char siu bao, which were roast pork packed into fluffy white steamed buns. Some were fried—spring rolls, which were thin flour skins filled with carrots, cabbages, and mushrooms, and wu gok, a light, crispy dough filled with something called taro. (I did not inquire about its nature.) We also ate dumplings made of shrimp and wrapped with seaweed. Then dessert, my favorite, the custard tarts.

  The food was sticky and sweet and fluffy and slipped from my chopsticks in my haste to eat and in my lack of skill with the foreign utensils. Phineas smiled and showed me again and again how to hold the two sticks between my fingers. Soon I was able to capture even a bit of rice.

  All the while we dined on such scrumptious fare, we participated in the tradition of yum cha—drinking tea. Lots and lots of green tea, of which I could not seem to get enough. Dim sum means “to touch the heart,” and by the time we had finished eating, my heart already felt touched in this new world.

  I was accustomed to a society where people spoke in polite tones and acted civilly, at least on the surface. In between the smiles and polite words, however, one could say just about anything about another person. A quick observation of the Chinese men at the next table made me realize that there was nothing polite or subtle—by my British standards—about their speech. They yelled at, berated, and argued with one another to the point that I winced. I could only understand every other word, but perhaps that was to my advantage.

  As if that were not enough, the men both spat small bones from their food—not to mention saliva—directly on the floor. I could not fathom such behavior!

  Phineas smiled. “You are disturbed?”

  I nodded. “They lack proper table manners.”

  “Those are proper table manners here. Just as you learned a different language, so must you learn a different way of life.”

  A man at the table next to us rose, as did his voice. The pitch grew louder, but his words continued in the beautiful rise and fall of the Cantonese dialect. He gestured at his companion, then turned and stalked away, his long queue swinging. No longer appalled, I was now fascinated. I had sought adventure, and now I lived it.

  Phineas took my hand. “We should speak of our wedding.”

  He received my undivided attention with those words, a reminder that adventure of another sort lay waiting. “Yes?”

  “Julia and Mr. Gilpin will wed tomorrow, for he will be expected to go with the Dignity on to Canton as soon as possible. We should wed the following day.”

  “I leave the plans to you, of course, but a wedding only two days hence?”

  “It is too soon?” he said, frowning.

  “I thought only . . . oh, it is far too silly for a man to understand.”

  “If it concerns you, Isabella, then it concerns me too,” he said. “What troubles you?”

  In truth, I believed his concern. I smiled. “I was hoping to find a new dress for the wedding. I may have to clothe myself as a proper missionary for the rest of my life, but I want something special. I want to look truly beautiful for our marriage day.”

  He took my hand. “You always appear so to me. No matter how fine the material or exquisite the design, the dress would only be secondary to your beautiful face.”

  Remember your mission, Isabella. This is a marriage of convenience for us both. Primarily . . . Probably . . . Possibly . . .

  I cleared my throat. “Speaking of dresses, perhaps we had best return to the Dignity. I should help Julia arrange for her own wedding.”

  “I believe Mrs. Akers has taken it upon herself to help Julia. At least, I believe that is what I heard when we were disembarking.”

  His eyes seemed far too intent, signaling his desire to spend more time with me alone. Nevertheless, I had to discourage such emotions for they could only be detrimental to both our futures. “Perhaps that is so,” I said, “but we should return at any rate.”

  “Very well.” I could see the disappointment register on his face. I almost felt sorry for him, but then I recalled that one of us had to remember our ultimate purposes!

  Back at the ship, we learned that Mrs. Akers had indeed arranged all things for Julia Whipple, from her dress to the location of the wedding. It was to be a civil ceremony performed aboard ship, with Mr. Gilpin asserting that his mama would probably prefer to see them wed in church back in England when they returned. Until then, a civil license would make things at least legal, if not elegant.

  As for her dress, somehow a lovely white satin with tiny embroidered roses had been procured from a dressmaker in Macao, with the promise that it would be hemmed to fit by the ceremony. Julia described it to me in great detail, and it occurred to me that perhaps it was the most elegant dress she had ever owned. That was as it should be for any lady, of course, as it was her wedding day. Still, I wondered at Mrs. Akers’s insistence on it being a fancy dress, as I doubted its serviceability for Julia after the ceremony. I could not imagine that she would have many occasions to wear such a lovely dress back home. Living with Mr. Gilpin’s mother, she would have few occasions to dress formally since he would be at sea much of the year.

  Julia looked as though she wished to speak to me, but every time she approached, Mrs. Akers seemed to recall yet another ceremony question. At last the younger woman gave herself completely to the older woman’s care and let herself be led away. It was probably for the better, as I might be tempted to speak to her of my own impending marriage and thus reveal the secret.

  I had no notion about what Phineas planned by way of a ceremony. I knew it would be Christian, for he was such, of course, but he consulted me on no matter whatsoever. Despite my expressed desire to find a dress, the issue seemed oddly unimportant now. My chief desire was to be wed and move into the interior of China where I could at last begin to be of some use. When I asked Phineas how we would slip away to be wed, he smiled.

  “It is all arranged. As soon as Julia and Mr. Gilpin’s wedding is over, we will slip away during the celebration afterward. I have already informed the captain and Mr. Harrison and Mr. Akers that I have business for the company to attend. They think that you will stay aboard ship, of course, as foreign women are not allowed outside Macao.”

  “But I will leave with you?” I said anxiously, envisioning his abandonment of me at the final minute.

  “Yes, of course. But, Isabella, you must be certain this is what you want, for you cannot return to the Dignity without a full accounting for your whereabouts.”

  “It is what I want to do,” I said, setting my lips firmly together. “This is what I have hoped for all along, and I will not turn back.”

  “Even if the accomplishment of that dream includes an unexpected husband in the bargain?”

  “Even so.”

  He turned away but continued to speak, as if he did not want to look at me. “You cannot take anything with you, so if you have acquired anything during the journey that you wish to keep, give it to me for safekeeping in my trunk. They are expecting me to disembark, but not you.”

  I laughed. “The sword you have given me is still in your trunk, as are the gospel tracts. Otherwise, the only items I have acquired during this long journey are the very dress I wear and the horrid gray one besides.”

  He turned back to face me. “What sort of frock would you hope to wear for our wedding?
You avowed that you wanted something special.”

  “Oh, Phineas. Truly, it hardly matters. I am resigned to wearing one or the other of my normal dresses. Mrs. Akers has carried on so over Julia Whipple that I have not the strength to seek a dress of my own. I am sure that they scoured the Macao shops that cater to European ladies.”

  “Will you trust me with the procurement? I think you will be pleased.”

  “Very well. You can hardly do worse than my cotton dresses.”

  He grinned. “I pray that I will not disappoint. Now would you care to hear how we will leave the ship?”

  I nodded. When did this man ever lack for a plan?

  I must confess that Julia Whipple’s wedding dress was every inch as lovely as any I had ever seen, and I was near green with jealousy. Still, I reminded myself, clothes were nothing compared to the kingdom of God, and it was a passion I needed to forsake if I wanted to truly become one of his workers.

  Naturally the ceremony was lovely as well, with the ship’s deck decorated most festively with lengths of white tulle and as many flowers as possible. Julia Whipple flushed the most becoming pink, as did Thomas Gilpin. Perhaps their disparate natures would balance one another in one of those odd marriages of opposites that frequently seemed more companionable than those whose spouses had known each other for years.

  Mrs. Akers managed to weep at all the appropriate moments, trumpeting loudly into her handkerchief so that I was certain it was past all future use, even with a thorough washing. She was also heard to announce rather loudly that the scene reminded her of her own dear wedding and that if the newly married enjoyed half the serenity and tranquility of her own marriage to Mr. Akers, they should consider themselves more than duly favored.

  Mrs. Harrison leaned against her husband’s shoulder the entire time, but I believe I saw her eyes flutter open briefly during the blessing of the ring.

  The crew had been given shore leave, so only the captain and the most major officers were in attendance. Mr. Calow looked much older than his young years, dressed in his best uniform. I hated that I would not be granted a chance to say a proper farewell, and I hoped that he would remember me kindly.

  After the ceremony, I kissed Julia Whipple—nay, Julia Gilpin!—on the cheek. I longed to bid her a proper farewell but settled for the deepest sentiment of my heart. “I am pleased for you both,” I said. “May God grant you every happiness.”

  Love may not have been a companion to this marriage, but something certainly shone in her eyes as she glanced at her new husband. “I am certain that we will be most happy indeed.”

  For his part, Thomas Gilpin returned her gaze with a blush and accepted my best wishes as well. I caught no hint that he had perhaps wanted to place a ring on my finger, as Mrs. Akers had once asserted, for he seemed, if not overjoyed with his new bride, quite content. I prayed that his dear mama would accept her new daughter with graciousness and perhaps a bit of obliviousness as well.

  Phineas, who had sat beside me throughout the ceremony then drifted away afterward, beckoned me from across the deck. His trunk had already been removed from the ship, ostensibly for him to prepare for his journey inland. I had also laid a farewell note on my hammock, explaining that I had left with Phineas and not to worry for my safety.

  Now it was time for us to disembark forever and perhaps, I felt in my heart, to leave England behind as well. Who knew if I would ever return to my homeland or to Uncle Toby and Flora?

  I glanced at the shipmates with whom I had spent significant time for the past few months, and a lump settled in my throat. I could not bear the thought of never seeing or speaking with them again. Yet press on I must, for the higher prize.

  And so Phineas and I slipped down the tulle-covered gangplank, unnoticed in the revelry, and embarked on yet another journey, one with no apparent return.

  He took my hand and led me on foot along dusty roads to a waiting wagon and driver. Phineas helped me into the wagon then spoke a few words in Chinese to the driver in such a low tone that I could not comprehend his message. His trunk, I noticed, was stored in the back.

  Clouds covered the night sky, and I could not see the stars. For some reason, this troubled me, and I shivered. Phineas put his arm around me, and I stiffened momentarily at the unexpected contact. “Are you warm enough?” he said, as if to soothe my fears.

  His lips brushed my hair, and I shivered again. “Yes,” I said in a small voice, then cleared my throat. “Where are we going?”

  He glanced at the driver, then put his fingers to his lips so that only I could see. I nodded my understanding.

  Phineas and I rode into the night, forever it seemed. I grew weary and rested my head against his shoulder. Oddly, I felt safe and secure, as satisfied as a child who had just been allowed a cup of warm chocolate. However, I refused to allow myself to become accustomed to this sensation as we had no future together. None at all.

  “Isabella,” Phineas whispered in my ear.

  I startled awake, bolting upright. “Yes?”

  “We are here.”

  The driver had already descended from the wagon to haul Phineas’s trunk outside what appeared to be a bamboo house. It certainly did not appear British or Portuguese in its architecture, as the buildings I had seen since we had landed in Macao.

  “Where are we?”

  “We are outside the walled city,” he said. He dropped a few coins into the driver’s hands, expressed his thanks, then rapped on the door. It swung open, and a Chinese man about the same age as Phineas bid us enter. He wore a long black queue and had his forehead shaved, a fashion I had seen many Chinese men sport in Macao.

  Phineas led me inside. Once the door was closed, he gestured toward the man. “Isabella, this is Choi Sing-yiu, my good friend. Choi Sing-yiu, this is my bride, Isabella Goodrich.”

  Choi Sing-yiu means “To Gain Glory,” but as he was a Christian, its implied meaning is “To Gain Glory for God.” He bowed, then said in good English, “I am pleased to meet you.”

  A woman appeared from a back room, a baby on her hip. Glory ushered her forward, and she approached, smiling. Introductions were again made, and I learned that this was Glory’s wife, Lui Chun-bo, which means “Precious Spring.”

  “Glory and Precious Spring are Christians,” Phineas said. “Glory is, in fact, an ordained clergyman.”

  I blinked. Was this one of Phineas’s deceptions?

  Glory laughed. “I see by your expression that you do not believe him. But it is true. I studied in England. Phineas and I met in London.”

  “Like me, Glory has a British father,” Phineas said. “He could have stayed in England, but he wanted to return here. He feels that his people need him. There are several Chinese Christians near this area.”

  “Phineas has promised to take you to them, yes?” Glory said.

  “He has never said anything specific,” I said, feeling confused. “I thought perhaps he was bringing me to you to help with missionary work.”

  Glory and Phineas exchanged a glance. Precious Spring appeared to try to follow the conversation, but it was apparent that she spoke little, if any, English. She did smile at me, however, which put me at ease. And her baby was adorable! Much better looking, I am ashamed to say, than my nephew Lewis with his pinched, demanding face. This baby actually smiled at me, which was something that Lewis certainly never did in the entire year that I knew him.

  “Is your child a boy or a girl?” I asked in Cantonese.

  Precious Spring looked startled. “You speak our language?”

  I nodded. “It was a five-month journey. Phineas was a thorough teacher.”

  Her smile broadened. “This is my son, Choi Ka-wai.” A beautiful name that means “Honor of the Family.”

  Phineas took my hand. “Our time is short, Isabella. We have come here to be married, not to visit. We do not want to bring trouble to Glory and Precious Spring by your presence.”

  “Forgive me,” Glory said, “but you are a foreign woman. O
utside the city walls, you will be noticed. Our plan is to dress you in Chinese style so that you and Phineas can travel together to Canton. Your hair is dark enough so that with the proper attire and your ability to speak the language, you can pass farther inland.”

  “But I thought I was to help you.”

  “Precious Spring and I live here,” Glory said gently. “Phineas himself can take you farther inland.”

  I glanced at him, and he nodded. “We can speak of this later, Isabella, but we must be wed and leave early tomorrow.”

  I looked at Glory. “So you will marry us? You are, indeed, a real clergyman?”

  “I am.” He smiled.

  “Precious Spring has your wedding dress,” Phineas said. “If you will make yourself ready, we can begin the ceremony.”

  Glory said something to Precious Spring, who took my hand. “Come with me,” she said, smiling.

  I glanced back at Phineas, who gestured me to go with her. No turning back, indeed!

  12

  “You are taller than me, but I believe this will fit.”

  I stared with awe at the beautiful skirt and tunic Precious Spring held up for my approval. The red silk could scarce be more opposite from Julia Whipple’s modest white frock. The silk was interwoven with gold brocade designs of dragons and phoenixes, something a lady in Britain would never imagine herself wearing, of course! The high collar was unlike anything I had ever seen in fashion.

  “This is a wedding dress,” Precious Spring said. “Red is the color we wear for good luck.”

  “Why dragons and phoenixes?” I said, pointing to a wingless dragon and a flaming, crested phoenix.

  “We believe they are also good luck and symbolize the emperor and empress, the balance of male and female power.” She smiled shyly. “The Bible speaks of the submission of a wife to her husband, but Glory and I see the dragon and phoenix as symbolizing the balance of that submission to a husband’s charge to care for and treasure his wife.”