Monsoon

by Wilbur Smith

  But there was something else he could not quite put his finger on. He knew that Tom had always been the precocious one among all his sons, and though he had tried to control his wilder extravagances he had never wanted to fetter this bold, adventurous spirit. Secretly, Hal had admired the boy’s courage and was proud of his headstrong ways. But now he was aware that something had happened that he had missed. This was a man, full-grown, who faced him with level gaze.

  ‘Well!’ Hal said at last. ‘You’ve shown John Tudwell he was wrong, haven’t you? So there’s no need to do the High Hornpipe again.’

  ‘No, Father,’ Tom agreed readily. ‘That is, not until somebody else tells me I lack the guts for it.’ His grin was so infectious that Hal felt his own mouth pulled out of shape.

  ‘Get away with you!’ He gave Tom a shove towards the cabin door. ‘There’s no reasoning with a barbarian.’

  Guy sat at his accustomed place on the bench beside Caroline in Master Walsh’s cabin. His face was pale and he spoke little during the course of the morning, answering any question from the schoolmaster in a terse monosyllable. He kept his eyes on his book, not looking at either Tom or Caroline, even when they were reciting the texts that Walsh had asked for.

  At last Caroline became aware of his strange behaviour. ‘Are you out of sorts, Guy? Are you feeling seasick again?’ she whispered.

  Guy could not bring himself to look into her face. ‘I am perfectly well,’ he told her. ‘You need not worry about me,’ and added silently, Ever again!

  Guy had conjured up a fantasy world over the past weeks since he had signed his indenture papers and his employment in the Company factory at Bombay had been secured. With his family connections, and under the patronage of Mr Beatty, he had foreseen his rapid advancement in the service of the Company. The Beatty family would have become his own, and Caroline would have been there beside him. He imagined sharing her company every day in the tropical paradise of Bombay. They would ride together through palm groves. In the evenings there would be music recitals, Guy playing and Caroline singing, and poetry readings, picnics with the family. He would walk hand in hand with her along white beaches, exchange with her pure, chaste kisses. In a few short years he would be twenty years old, high in the Company service and well able to afford to marry. Now all these dreams were shattered.

  When he tried to think of the vile things he had uncovered, his mind shied away from them like a skittish horse. His hands shook and he felt the blood fuming in his brain. He could not bear another minute in the confines of the tiny cabin, with the two people he hated more than he had ever believed himself capable. He stood up abruptly. ‘Master Walsh, please excuse me. I am feeling faint. I need to take a turn on deck. The fresh air—’ Without waiting for permission, he stumbled to the door and fled up the ladder. He hurried to the bows and clung to a halyard, letting the wind blow in his face. His misery was bottomless and the rest of his life stretched ahead like an endless desert plain.

  ‘I want to die!’ he said aloud, and peered over the ship’s side. The water was green and beautiful. It would be so peaceful down there. He stepped down onto the chains and balanced there, hanging on with one hand on the shrouds. ‘It will be so easy,’ he told himself. ‘So quick and easy.’ He began to lean outwards over the rushing, curling bow-wave.

  A powerful grip closed on his free wrist, and he almost lost his balance. ‘There is nothing that you have lost down there, Mbili,’ Aboli’s voice rumbled. ‘You never were a swimmer.’

  ‘Leave me!’ Guy said bitterly. ‘Why do you always interfere, Aboli? I just want to die.’

  ‘You will have your wish, that is the only thing certain in this life,’ Aboli assured him. ‘But not today, Mbili.’ The name he had called Guy from the day of his birth meant Number Two in the language of the forests. Gently he exerted pressure on his arm.

  Guy tried vainly to resist that great strength. ‘Leave me, Aboli. Please.’

  ‘The men are looking at you,’ Aboli told him softly. Guy looked round and saw that some of the watch on deck had stopped their talk and were watching this little pantomime curiously. ‘Do not shame your father and me with this stupidity.’

  Guy capitulated, and hopped down clumsily onto the deck. Aboli released his wrist. ‘Let us talk,’ he suggested.

  ‘I do not want to talk, to you or to anybody.’

  ‘Then we will be silent together,’ Aboli agreed, and led him to the lee rail. They squatted together there, shielded from the wind and from the eyes of the watch. Aboli was calm and silent, like a mountain, a reassuring presence. He did not look at Guy or touch him, but he was there. The long minutes drew out, then Guy blurted out wildly, ‘I love her so, Aboli. It’s like fangs gnawing at my belly.’

  So! Aboli thought sadly. He has found out the truth. Klebe is not one to hide his tracks. He is after this filly like a young stallion that has kicked down the fence. It is a wonder that Mbili took so long to discover it. ‘Yes, I know, Mbili,’ he said. ‘I have also loved.’

  ‘What am I to do?’ Guy demanded miserably.

  ‘No matter how much it hurts, it will never kill you, and one day, sooner than you will believe possible, you will have forgotten the pain.’

  ‘I will never forget it,’ said Guy, with deep conviction. ‘And I will never forget my love for her.’

  Hal Courtney heard the ship’s bell sound the beginning of the middle watch. ‘Midnight,’ he murmured. He pressed both fists into the small of his back. He had sat at his desk for many hours, he felt stiff and his eyes smarted. He stood up and trimmed the wick of the lamp, adjusting it to light the documents on his desktop, then seated himself again in the heavy oak chair and applied himself once more to his work.

  The builders’ drawings of Seraph were spread before him. He studied the plan of her gundecks for a while, then set it on one side, pulled towards him the drawing of the side elevation, and compared the two. ‘We have to conceal the guns, and give her the look of an unarmed trader,’ he murmured. ‘It will mean stripping the lids off the gunports of the lower deck—’ He broke off and frowned as he heard a soft scratching at the door of his cabin.

  ‘Who is it?’ he demanded. The weather was fair and the wind light and steady. He had not expected to be interrupted. There was no answer to his challenge, and after a moment he grunted. It must have been a rat or his imagination. He turned his attention back to the drawings.

  The scratching at the door came again. This time he pushed back his chair irritably and stood up. Stooping under the beams he strode to the door and pulled it open. A slight figure stood diffidently before him. It took Hal a moment to recognize his own son. ‘Guy?’ He peered closely at him. ‘What are you doing at this time of night? Come in, boy.’ Guy stepped into the cabin, and pulled the door to behind him. He plucked his cap from his head. His face was pale and his expression nervous.

  ‘Father, I had to tell you—’ he stammered, twisting the cap in his hands.

  ‘What is it, lad? Speak up,’ Hal encouraged him.

  ‘There is somebody in the powder magazine in the hold,’ Guy blurted out. ‘The door is open and there is a light.’

  ‘What?’ Hal’s voice was sharp with alarm. ‘In the magazine? A light?’ A host of dire misgivings crowded his mind.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Hal whirled and crossed to his desk. He jerked open the top drawer and lifted out the wooden case of pistols. He opened it and took out one of the double-barrelled weapons, swiftly checked the flint and the priming, then thrust it into his belt. Then he checked the second of the pair and hefted it in his right hand.

  ‘We’ll see about this,’ he muttered grimly, and lifted the lamp out of its gimbals. ‘Come with me, Guy, but softly. We don’t want to warn the rascals, whoever they are.’

  He eased open the cabin door and Guy followed him out into the passageway. ‘Close it quietly,’ Hal warned and went to the head of the companionway. He peered down into the lower deck but saw no glimmer of light. He tu
rned his head to Guy. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Stepping lightly Hal started down the ladder, stopping on each tread to listen and look. He reached the bottom and paused again. Only then did he see the faint nimbus of light around the edges of the magazine door.

  ‘Yes!’ he whispered, and cocked both hammers of the pistol in his hand. ‘Now we’ll see what they’re up to.’ He started towards the magazine, carrying the lamp behind his back to shield the flame. Guy was close behind him.

  Hal reached the door and placed his ear to the thick oak panel. Faintly, above the other noises of the ship, he heard sounds that puzzled him, soft cries and moans, a rustling and thudding he could not place.

  He tried the lock and the handle turned readily enough in his hand. He put his shoulder against the door and gradually applied his weight. The jamb scraped softly and then the door swung open. He stood in the entrance and lifted his lantern high above his head. For a while he was deprived of the power of further movement. The scene before him was so far from his expectations that he could not make sense of what he was seeing.

  The screened lamp in its gimbals on the bulkhead above the ready racks added its light to the rays of his own lantern. Clothing was jumbled on the deck at Hal’s feet, and human bodies sprawled over the silk powder bags before him. It took a moment for him to realize they were naked. Pale skin gleamed bright in the lamplight, and he stared in disbelief. A woman’s curls, tangled limbs, red mouth open wide, small feet that kicked spasmodically towards the deck beams above, slim hands that clutched and twisted in a man’s hair, the man’s head buried between her pearly thighs, her back and buttocks thumping against the mattress of powder bags as she writhed in transport.

  The pair seemed oblivious to anything but each other. Even the lantern turned full upon them had not alarmed them for the girl’s eyes were tightly closed and her features so contorted with passion that she seemed a stranger to Hal.

  He stood there transfixed and only roused himself when Guy tried to push his way into the magazine. He moved to block his entrance and screen the scene from him.

  ‘Get back, Guy,’ he said, and his voice penetrated the curtains of passion that shrouded the pair on the rack. The woman’s eyes flew open, then slowly expanded like the petals of a violet bloom as she stared at Hal in horror and disbelief. Her mouth twisted into a silent scream of despair, and she struggled up on one elbow, her breasts swinging round and white in the lamplight. With both hands she tore at the dark hair of the head lodged between her thighs, but could not budge it.

  ‘Tom!’ Hal found his voice at last. He saw the muscles in the boy’s broad white back convulse with shock, as though a dagger had been plunged into them. Then Tom lifted his face and stared at his father. It seemed an eternity that all three were frozen like that.

  Tom’s face was suffused with blood, as though he had run a race, or wrestled a heavy bout. His gaze was as unfocused and vague as that of a drunkard.

  ‘In the name of God, girl, cover yourself!’ Hal grated. His own shame flared up as he found it took a huge effort on his part to tear his eyes from her spreadeagled body.

  At his words she kicked Tom away with both feet and tumbled from the rack onto the deck. She snatched up her discarded nightdress and held it to her chest with both hands, trying to cover her nudity, crouching there on her knees like a wild animal in a trap. Hal turned his back on her and found Guy pressing close behind him, craning to see what was happening in the magazine. Hal shoved him roughly out into the passageway. ‘Get you back to your bed!’ he snarled. ‘This is not your business.’ Guy backed away at the venom in his father’s voice. ‘Tell no one of what you have seen here tonight, for if you do I will flay the skin from your back.’ Guy backed slowly and reluctantly up the ladder, and Hal turned into the magazine.

  Caroline had pulled the gown over her head and now it covered her to her ankles. She stood before him, hanging her head. The thick curls and ringlets fell forward and covered her face. She looked like a little girl, young and innocent. Which she has, as the devil is witness, proven she is not, Hal thought grimly, and looked at his son, who was hopping on one leg trying to get his other into his breeches. There was no longer any trace of his usual cockiness or braggadocio. He hauled his breeches up to his waist and buckled his belt, then stood abjectly beside the girl, neither of them able to meet Hal’s stern gaze.

  ‘Mistress Caroline,’ Hal ordered, ‘you will go this very instant to your cabin.’

  ‘Yes, Captain,’ she whispered.

  ‘I can only say that I am disgusted by your behaviour. I never expected anything of the like from a lady of your breeding.’ He felt vaguely ridiculous as he said it. As though the lower classes are the only ones who should make the beast with two backs, he mocked himself silently, and searched for some pronouncement less fatuous. ‘What will your father make of it when I tell him?’ he demanded. She looked up at him with real terror dissolving her prettiness.

  ‘You won’t tell him!’ Suddenly, embarrassingly, she fell at his feet, and hugged his knees. ‘Please don’t tell him, Captain. I will do anything, only please don’t tell him.’

  ‘Get up, girl.’ Hal lifted her to her feet, his anger fading. It took an effort to fan the flames. ‘Go to your cabin, and stay there until I send for you.’

  ‘You won’t tell my father?’ she pleaded. Tears were streaming down her face now.

  ‘I make you no promise on that,’ he said. ‘You richly deserve the horse-whip that I know he will take to you.’ He led her out, and pushed her towards her cabin. She fled up the ladder and he heard her door open and close softly.

  Hal turned back to Tom and tried to glare at him, but felt the flames of indignation subside. Despite himself he journeyed back over the years, to another boy and girl in a dark ship’s cabin in these southern seas. He had been Tom’s age, and the Dutch girl five years his senior when she had carried him over the threshold into manhood. She had possessed golden hair and the face of an innocent angel, but the body of a wanton and the nature of a she-devil. He blinked as he brought his mind back from twenty-five years ago, and found Tom still standing contritely before him. ‘Miss Beatty is a passenger on this ship, and therefore in my care,’ he said. ‘You have shamed yourself and me.’

  ‘I am sorry, Father.’

  ‘I don’t think you are.’ Hal studied his face, and saw him struggling with the truth.

  ‘I mean, I’m sorry I shamed you.’ Tom qualified himself. ‘But as nobody but us knows of it, then your shame need never be made public, sir.’

  Hal had to stop himself gasping at his son’s effrontery, but then he followed the quick-witted logic.

  ‘You are a barbarian, sir,’ he said gravely, and thought, As I was – as every red-blooded young buck is at your age.

  ‘I shall try to improve myself,’ Tom promised.

  Hal stared at him. He would never have dared address his own father in that fashion. He had been terrified of his father. This boy was not terrified of him – respected and admired him, perhaps, loved him, certainly, but felt no terror when they stood face to face like this. Have I failed in my duty? Should I have made him fear me? he wondered. No, I am glad of it. I have made him a man.

  ‘Father, I will readily accept whatever punishment you see fit to lay on me. But if you tell Caroline’s family of this, you will bring disgrace upon her and ruin her life.’ Tom spoke up with barely a tremor in his voice. ‘She does not deserve that from us.’

  ‘I agree with you,’ Hal admitted reluctantly. ‘Do I have your undertaking never to try to be alone with the girl again while she is on this ship?’

  ‘I promise you that.’ Tom raised his right hand. ‘I swear it to you.’

  ‘Then we shall not speak of it again, and I will say nothing to Mr Beatty.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Hal felt rewarded when he saw the expression in his son’s eyes, then had to cough to clear the constriction in his throat. He cast aro
und swiftly for some way to avoid having to pursue the subject. ‘How did you get into the magazine?’

  ‘I borrowed the key from your desk,’ Tom answered straight.

  ‘Borrowed?’ Hal demanded.

  ‘Yes, sir. I would have returned it when I was finished with it.’

  ‘You have no further need of it now, that I assure you,’ Hal told him grimly. Tom went obediently to the doorway, reached up to the niche and brought down the key.

  ‘Lock the door,’ Hal ordered, and when Tom had done so, ‘Give it to me.’ Tom placed it in his hand.

  ‘I think that is more than enough for one night,’ Hal said. ‘Go to your mattress now.’

  ‘Goodnight, Father, and I truly am sorry that I have caused you distress.’

  Hal watched him disappear up the ladder, then grinned ruefully. Perhaps I could have conducted that little skirmish with more aplomb, he thought, but the devil tell me how.

  Guy waited expectantly for the uproar that must follow his disclosure of the sinful pair. He expected Caroline to be castigated by her father, perhaps beaten like a scullerymaid caught stealing, reviled by her mother and sisters, become such an outcast that she would have only him to turn to for comfort.

  In his imaginings, she came to him and begged his forgiveness for having betrayed the pure, honest love he held for her. She threw herself on his mercy, and promised that if he forgave her she would try for the rest of her life to make amends to him. The thought of it warmed him and made up for the terrible suffering he had endured since the night when he had first followed Tom down to the lower deck and discovered the filth in which he was engaged.

  Then he hoped that his father might haul Tom before the ship’s company and order him placed on the triangle and publicly flogged, though in his heart he knew that this was too much to hope for. But at least he might force Tom to apologize to Mr and Mrs Beatty and forbid him ever again to speak to Caroline or any other member of the family. Tom would become the ship’s pariah. Perhaps his father might have him removed from the Seraph when they reached Good Hope, even sent back to England in disgrace to suffer the tyranny of Black Billy at High Weald.