'Ah!' His frown deepened, and he began to ask another question - but the query was lost on Paulette who had just caught sight of Zachary, coming through the door. Like the other men, he was in his shirtsleeves, having handed his coat to a khidmutgar before stepping into the shishmull. His hair was neatly tied, with a black ribbon, and his Dosootie shirt and nainsook trowsers were the plainest in the room - yet he looked improbably elegant, mainly because he was the only man present who was not dripping with sweat.

After Zachary's arrival, Paulette was unable to summon much more than a monosyllable or two in response to the Captain's inquiries, and she scarcely noticed when Mr Justice Kendalbushe frowned disapprovingly at her finery and murmured: '"h.e.l.l is naked and destruction hath no covering." '

To add to her trials, when it came time to go in to dinner, Mr Doughty began to compliment her effusively on her appearance. "Pon my sivvy, Miss Lambert! Aren't you quite the dandyzette today? Fit to knock a feller oolter-poolter on his beam ends!' Then, fortunately, he caught sight of the dinner-table and forgot about Paulette.

The table for the evening was of modest size, having been fitted with only two of its six leaves, but what it lacked in length, it more than made up for in the height and weight of its fare, which was laid out in a single spectacular service, with platters and dishes arranged in a spiralling ziggurat of comestibles. There was green turtle soup, served artfully in the animals' sh.e.l.ls, a Bobotie pie, a dumbpoke of muttongosht, a tureen of Burdwaun stew, concocted from boiled hens and pickled oysters, a foogath of venison, a dish of pomfrets, soused in vinegar and sprinkled with petersilly, a Vinthaleaux of beef, with all the accompaniments, and platters of tiny roasted ortolans and pigeons, with the birds set out in the arrowhead shapes of flocks in flight. The table's centrepiece was a favourite of the Bethel bobachee-connah: a stuffed roast peac.o.c.k, mounted upon a silver stand, with its tail outspread as if for an imminent mating.

The spectacle briefly deprived Mr Doughty of his breath: 'I say,' he muttered at last, wiping his forehead, which was already streaming in antic.i.p.ation of the feast, 'now here's a sight for Chinnery's paintbrush!'

'Exactly, sir,' said Paulette, although she had not quite heard what he had said - for her attention, if not her gaze, was focused upon the place to her left, where Zachary had now appeared. Yet she dared not turn away from the pilot, for she had more than once been reprimanded by Mrs Burnham for the solecism of speaking with a left-hand neighbour out of turn.

Mr Doughty was still exclaiming over the fare when Mr Burnham cleared his throat in preparation for the saying of grace: 'We thank you Lord ...' In emulation of the others, Paulette held her clasped hands to her chin and shut her eyes - but she couldn't resist stealing a surrept.i.tious glance at her neighbour, and was greatly discomposed when her eyes encountered Zachary's, who was also peering sideways, over his fingertips. They both flushed and looked hurriedly away, and were just in time to echo Mr Burnham's sonorous 'Amen'.

Mr Doughty wasted no time in spearing an ortalan. 'Tantivy, Miss Lambert!' he whispered to Paulette, as he dropped the bird on her plate. 'Take it from an old hand: have to be jildee with the ortolans. They're always the first to go.'

'Why thank you.' Paulette's words were lost on the pilot, whose attention was now focused on the dumbpoke. With her senior dinner-partner thus distracted, Paulette was free at last to turn to Zachary.

'I am glad, Mr Reid,' she said formally, 'that you could spare an evening for us.'

'Not as glad as I am, Miss Lambert,' said Zachary. 'It's not often that I'm invited to such a feast.'

'But Mr Reid,' said Paulette, 'my little finger has told me that you have been sortieing a great deal of late!'

'Sort ... sortieing?' said Zachary in surprise. 'And what might you mean by that, Miss Lambert?'

'Forgive me,' she said. 'I mean dining out - you have been doing so a great deal, no, of late?'

'Mr Doughty and his wife have been very kind,' said Zachary. 'They've taken me with them to a few places.'

'You are lucky,' said Paulette, with a conspiratorial smile. 'I believe your colleague, Mr Crowle, is not so fortunate?'

'Wouldn't know about that, Miss.'

Paulette lowered her voice: 'You know, you must be careful with Mr Crowle. Mrs Burnham says he is an awful thug.'

Zachary stiffened. 'I'm not a'feared of Mr Crowle.'

'But have a care, Mr Reid: Mrs Burnham says she will not have him in the house. You must not tell him you were here tonight.'

'Don't worry, Miss,' said Zachary smiling. 'Mr Crowle's not a man I'm likely to be sharing confidences with.'

'Is he not on the ship then?'

'No,' said Zachary. 'None of us are. The Ibis is in dry dock and we're all liberty-men in the meantime. I've moved into a boarding house.'

'Really? Where?'

'In Kidderpore - Watsongunge Lane. Jodu found it for me.'

'Oh?' Paulette glanced over her shoulder to make sure that no one else had heard Jodu's name, and turned back to Zachary rea.s.sured.

Recently, Mr Burnham had installed a new fixture to cool the dining room. Known as a Thermantidote, the device was a winnowing machine that had been fitted with a propeller and a thick mat of fragrant khus-khus. The men who had once pulled the ropes of the overhead punkahs were now employed in operating the Thermantidote: while one wetted the machine's rush screen the other turned the propeller by means of a handle, forcing a constant stream of air through the dampened mat. Thus, by means of evaporation, the machine was supposed to create a wonderfully cooling breeze. Such at least was the theory - but in rainy weather the Thermantidote added greatly to the humidity, making everyone sweat even more than usual, and it also produced a loud, grinding noise that often drowned the conversation. Mr Burnham and Mr Doughty were among the few who could make themselves heard effortlessly, above the machine - but those with feebler voices often had to shout, which only added to the prevailing sweatiness. In the past, when seated beside deaf colonels and infirm accountants, Paulette had often had cause to regret the introduction of the new machine - but today she was unreservedly glad of its presence, since it allowed her to speak with Zachary without fear of being overheard.

'If I may ask, Mr Reid,' she said, 'where is Jodu now? What has become of him?'

'He's trying to earn a little money while the Ibis is being refitted,' said Zachary. 'He asked me for a small loan so he could rent a little ferry-boat. He'll be back on board when we're ready to sail.'

Paulette thought back to the lazy days when she and Jodu had sat in the trees of the Botanical Gardens, watching the ships on the Hooghly. 'So he is to have his wish then? He will be on your crew?'

'That's right: just as you wanted. He will be going to Port Louis with us when we sail in September.'

'Oh? He will go to the Mauritius?'

'Yes,' said Zachary. 'Do you know the islands?'

'No,' said Paulette, 'I have never been there, although it was once my family's home. My father was a botanist, you see, and in the Mauritius there is a very famous botanical garden. It was there that my father and mother were married. That is why I have a great envy to go there ...' She broke off: suddenly it seemed intolerably unjust that Jodu should be able to go to this island while she, Paulette, with all her prior claims, could not.

'Is something the matter?' Zachary said, alarmed by her pallor. 'Are you all right, Miss Lambert?'

'An idee came to my mind,' said Paulette, trying to make light of her sudden turn of thought. 'It struck me that I too would love to go to the Mauritius on the Ibis. Just like Jodu, working on a ship.'

Zachary laughed. 'Believe me, Miss Lambert, a schooner's no place for a woman - lady, I mean, begging your pardon. Especially not someone who is accustomed to living like this ...' He made a gesture in the direction of the loaded table.

'Is that indeed so, Mr Reid?' said Paulette, raising her eyebrows. 'So it is not possible, according to you, for a woman to be a marin?'

Often, when at a loss for a word, Paulette would borrow a term from the French, trusting that it would pa.s.s for English if p.r.o.nounced exactly as it was spelled. This strategy worked well enough to provide reason to persist, but every once in a while it produced unexpected results: from the look on Zachary's face, Paulette knew that this was one such occasion.

'Marine?' he said in surprise. 'No, Miss Lambert, there sure aren't any woman marines that I ever heard of.'

'"Sailor",' said Paulette triumphantly. 'That is what I meant. You think it is not possible for a woman to sail under a mast?'

'As a captain's wife, perhaps,' said Zachary, shaking his head. 'But never as a member of the crew: not a sailor worth his salt would put up with that. Why, there's many a sailor won't so much as utter the word "woman" at sea, for fear of bad luck.'

'Ah!' said Paulette. 'But then it is clear, Mr Reid, that you have never heard of the famous Madame Commerson!'

'Can't say as I have, Miss Lambert,' said Zachary with a frown. 'What flag does she fly?'

'Madame Commerson was not a ship, Mr Reid,' said Paulette. 'She was a scientist: to be precise, she was my own grand-aunt. And I beg to inform you that she was but a young woman when she joined a ship and sailed all around the world.'

'Is that a fact?' said Zachary sceptically.

'Yes, indeed it is,' said Paulette. 'You see, before she was married, my grand-aunt's name was Jeanne Baret. Even as a girl, she had a pa.s.sion most heated for science. She read about Linnaeus, and the many new species of plants and animals that were being named and discovered. These diverse facts made her burn with the volontee to see for herself the riches of the earth. What should happen then, Mr Reid, but that she should learn of a great expedition, being organized by Monsieur de Bougainville, with the intention of doing exactly that which she wished? This idee set her afire and she decided that she too, by all hasard, would be an expeditionnaire. But of course it was not to be expected that the men would permit a woman to join the ship ... so can you imagine, Mr Reid, what my grand-aunt did?'

'No.'

'She did the simplest thing, Mr Reid. She tied up her hair like a man and applied to join under the name of Jean Bart. And what is more, she was accepted - by none other than the great Bougainville himself! And it was none too hard, Mr Reid - this I would have you know: it was no more than a matter of wearing a tight band over her chest and lengthening her stride when she walked. Thus she set sail, wearing trowsers, just like you, and not one of the sailors or scientists guessed her secret. Can you but imagine, Mr Reid, all those savants, so knowledgeable about the anatomy of animals and plants? - not one of them knew that there was a fillie among them, so completely was she male? It was only after two years that she was undone, and do you know how, Mr Reid?'

'Wouldn't like to guess, Miss,' said Zachary.

'In Tahiti, when the expeditionnaires went ash.o.r.e, the people took but one look and they knew! The secret that no Frenchman had guessed through two years of living on the same ship, day in, day out, the Tahitians knew tootsweet. But now it did not matter, for of course, Monsieur de Bougainville could not abandonne her so he agreed to let her come along. They say it was she who, out of grat.i.tude, named the flower that is called after the admiral: bougainvillea. This was how it happened that Jeanne Baret, my grand-aunt, became the first woman to sail around the earth. And this too was how she found her husband, my grand-uncle, Philippe Commerson, who was among the expeditionnaires and a great savant himself.'

Pleased to have trumped Zachary, Paulette treated him to a beaming smile. 'So you see, Mr Reid, sometimes it happens after all that a woman does indeed join a crew.'

Zachary took a long sip from his winegla.s.s, but the claret was not of much help in digesting Paulette's tale: he tried to think of a woman attempting a similar impersonation on the Ibis and was certain that she would be detected within days if not hours. He remembered the hammocks, hung so close that one man's tossing would set the whole fo'c'sle astir and a-shake; he thought of the boredom of the small hours, and those contests where the men of the watch would open their trowsers to leeward to see how much of the sea's phosph.o.r.escence they could light up; he thought of the ritual of the weekly bath, on deck, by the lee scuppers, with every tar's body bared to the waist and many having to strip naked to wash their one pair of underclothes. How could a woman join in any of this? Perhaps on a shipful of frog-eating c.r.a.ppos - who knew what devilment they got up to? - but a Baltimore clipper was a man's world and no true salt would want it otherwise, no matter how great his love of women.

Noting his silence, Paulette asked: 'Do you not believe me, Mr Reid?'

'Well, Miss Lambert, I'll believe it could happen on a French ship,' he said grudgingly. He couldn't resist adding: 'Tisn't the easiest thing anyway to tell a Mamzelle from a Monsoo.'

'Mr Reid ... !'

'No offence meant ...'

As Zachary was making his apologies, a tiny pellet of bread came flying over the table and struck Paulette on the chin. She glanced across to find Mrs Doughty smiling and rolling her eyes as if to indicate that some matter of great significance had just transpired. Paulette looked around, nonplussed, and could see nothing of note, except Mrs Doughty herself: the pilot's wife was extremely stout, with a round face that hung, like a setting moon, under a great cloud of henna-red hair; now, with her gestures and grimaces, she appeared to be undergoing some kind of planetary convulsion. Paulette looked quickly away, for she harboured a great dread of attracting the attention of Mrs Doughty, who tended to speak, at length and with exceptional rapidity, about matters she could not quite comprehend.

Fortunately, Mr Doughty saved her the trouble of having to respond to his wife. 'Shahbash dear!' he exclaimed. 'Perfect shot!' Then, turning to Paulette, he said: 'Tell me, Miss Lambert, have I ever told you how Mrs Doughty once pelleted me with an ortolan?'

'Why no, sir,' said Paulette.

'Happened at Government House,' the pilot continued. 'Right under the Lat-Sahib's eye. Bird caught me smack on my nose. Must have been a good twenty paces. Knew right then she was the woman for me - eyes like a shoe-goose.' Here, having speared the last ortolan with his fork, he waved it in the direction of his wife.

Paulette seized the opportunity to turn her attention back to Zachary: 'But tell me, Mr Reid, how is it that you communicate with your lascars? Do they speak English?'

'They know the commands,' said Zachary. 'And sometimes, when it's needed, Serang Ali translates.'

'And how do you hold converse with Serang Ali?' Paulette asked.

'He speaks a little English,' said Zachary. 'We manage to make ourselves understood. Odd thing is, he can't even say my name.'

'What does he call you then?'

'Malum Zikri.'

'Zikri?' she cried. 'What a beautiful name! Do you know what it means?'

'I didn't even know it meant anything,' he said in surprise.

'It does,' she said. 'It means the "one who remembers". How nice that is. Would you mind if I called you by this name?'

Now, seeing a flush rise to his face, she quickly regretted her forwardness: it seemed a G.o.dsend when the khidmutgars distracted everyone by bringing in an enormous jelly-tree - a three-layered stand with many branching arms, each of these loaded with miniature custards, jellies, puddings, trifles, fools, blancmanges, syllabubs and sugared fruits.

Paulette was about to recommend a mango fool to Zachary when Mr Doughty reclaimed her attention with a melancholy story about how a goose hurled at a Government House dinner had led to a duel and brought official disapproval upon the custom of pelleting. Before he had quite finished, Mrs Burnham caught Paulette's eye in the special way that indicated that it was time for the ladies to withdraw to the gol-c.u.mra. The khidmutgars came forward to pull back their chairs, and the women stepped away to follow their hostess out of the dining room.

Mrs Burnham led the way out at a serenely regal pace, but the moment they were out of the dining room, she abandoned Paulette with Mrs Doughty. 'I'm off to the dubber,' she whispered slyly in Paulette's ear. 'Good luck with old fustilugs.'

In the dining room, where the men had gathered around the host's end of the table, Mr Burnham's offer of a cigar was politely declined by Captain Chillingworth. 'Thank you, Mr Burnham,' said the Captain, reaching for a candlestick, 'but I prefer my buncuses, if it's all the same to you.'

'As you please,' said Mr Burnham, pouring a gla.s.s of port. 'But come now, Captain: give us the news from Canton. Does it appear that the celestials will see reason before it is too late?'

The Captain sighed: 'Our friends in the English and American factories do not think so. Almost to a man they believe that a war with China is inevitable. Frankly, most of them welcome the prospect.'

'So the Chuntocks are still set, are they,' said Mr Burnham, 'on putting a stop to the trade in opium?'

'I am afraid so,' said the Captain. 'The mandarins do indeed seem quite set in their course. The other day, they beheaded some half-dozen opium-sellers, right at the gates of Macao. Strung up the bodies in full public view, for everyone to see, Europeans included. It's had an effect, no doubt about it. In February the price of the best Patna opium had sunk to four hundred and fifty dollars a chest.'

'Good G.o.d!' said Mr Doughty. 'Was it not twice that last year?'

'So it was.' Mr Burnham nodded. 'You see, it's clear now - the Long-tails will stop at nothing to drive us out of business. And they'll succeed too, no doubt about it, unless we can prevail upon London to fight back.'

Mr Justice Kendalbushe broke in, leaning across the table: 'But tell me, Captain Chillingworth: is it not true that our representative in Canton, Mr Elliott, has had some success in persuading the mandarins to legalize opium? I've heard it said that the mandarins have begun to consider the benefits of free trade.'

Mr Doughty laughed. 'You are too optimistic, sir. d.a.m.ned hard-headed gudda is Johnny Chinaman. Not a chance of changing his mind.'

'But what the judge says is not unfounded,' said the Captain quickly. 'There's a party in Pekin that is rumoured to be in favour of legalization. But the word is that the Emperor's shrugged them off and decided to destroy the trade root and branch. I'm told he's appointed a new governor to do the job.'

'We should not be surprised,' said Mr Burnham, looking around the table in satisfaction, with his thumbs hooked in his lapels. 'Certainly I am not. I knew from the start it would come to this. Jardine and Matheson have said so all along, and I'm of the same mind. No one dislikes war more than I do - indeed I abhor it. But it cannot be denied that there are times when war is not merely just and necessary, but also humane. In China that time has come: nothing else will do.'

'Quite right, sir!' said Mr Doughty emphatically. 'There is no other recourse. Indeed, humanity demands it. We need only think of the poor Indian peasant - what will become of him if his opium can't be sold in China? b.l.o.o.d.y hurremzads can hardly eat now: they'll perish by the crore.'

'I fear you are right,' said Justice Kendalbushe gravely. 'My friends in the Missions are agreed that a war is necessary if China is to be opened up to G.o.d's word. It's a pity, of course, but it's best to get it over and done with.'

Eyes twinkling, Mr Burnham looked around the candlelit table: 'Since we are all agreed, gentlemen, perhaps I can share a bit of news that has just come my way? In the strictest confidence, of course.'

'Of course.'

'Mr Jardine has written to say that he has prevailed on the Prime Minister at last.'

'Oh, is it true then?' cried Mr Justice Kendalbushe. 'Lord Palmerston has agreed to send a fleet?'

'Yes,' Mr Burnham nodded in confirmation. 'But fleet is perhaps too grand a word. Mr Jardine reckons that no great show of force will be needed to overwhelm China's antique defences. A few frigates, perhaps, and a couple of dozen merchantmen.'

'Shahbash!' cried Mr Doughty, with a handclap. 'So war it is then?'

'I think we can take it as a certainty now,' said Mr Burnham. 'I'm sure there'll be some pretence of a palaver with the Celestials. But it will all come to naught - we can depend on the Long-tails for that. And then the fleet will go in and wrap it all up in short order. It'll be the best kind of war - quick and inexpensive with the outcome never in doubt. Won't need more than a handful of English troops: a couple of sepoy battalions will get it done.'

Mr Doughty gave a stomach-shaking laugh. 'Oh that's for sure! Our darkies will rout the yellowbellies in short order. It'll be over in a couple of weeks.'

'And I shouldn't be surprised,' said Mr Burnham, stabbing the air with his cigar, 'if there's cheering in the streets of Canton, when the troops go marching in.'

'That's a pucka certainty,' said Mr Doughty. 'The Celestials will be out in force, lighting up their joss-sticks. Ooloo though he might be in some ways, Johnny Chinaman knows a good thing when he sees it. He'll be delighted to be rid of his Manchu tyrant.'

Zachary could no longer hold himself aloof from the excitement that was simmering around the table. He broke in to ask Mr Burnham: 'When do you think the fleet will be ready, sir?'

'I believe two frigates are already on their way,' said Mr Burnham. 'As for the merchantmen, Jardine and Matheson's ships will begin a.s.sembling soon, as will ours. You'll be back in plenty of time to join in.'

'Hear, hear!' said Mr Doughty, raising his gla.s.s.

Captain Chillingworth alone seemed to be unaffected by the high spirits and general good cheer: his silence having grown too p.r.o.nounced to be ignored, Mr Justice Kendalbushe bestowed a kindly smile on him: 'A great pity, Captain Chillingworth, that your health will not permit you to join the expedition. No wonder you are gloomy. In your place I would be sorry too.'