‘Captain Kite, may I introduce Captain Grindley of the Carnatic, Country ship.’ President Cranbrooke said as Kite was shown into his office and two men rose to meet him.
Kite shook hands with a short, yet powerful man with a disagreeably petulant face caused by too protruberant a lower lip which jutted out and hung over a small, pointed chin. This lower lip, Kite observed with some distaste, was kept perpetually moist, even in the heat, by a frequent and nervous application of Grindley’s tongue. The compulsive habit made Kite think of a lizard.
‘Your servant, Captain Grindley,’ he said, adding, ‘if I intrude, gentlemen, please do not hesitate to tell me. I am content to wait.’ Kite had no wish to be rushed in his interview with Cranbrooke and most certainly did not wish to discuss his proposition with a third party present.
‘Please take a seat.’ Reluctantly Kite took up the offer and the other two men subsided in the chairs they had vacated as he had entered. ‘You are not intruding at all, Kite,’ Cranbrooke ran on. ‘As a matter-of-fact your late partner was the subject of our discussion.’
‘He was not my partner, sir,’ Kite dissembled gently, ‘rather my employer, since I undertook the commission of bringing him hither in my own vessel.’
‘Then he paid you?’ Grindley said, speaking for the first time. Kite noticed his voice seemed cracked, as though he suffered some defect in the throat. Curiously, it added to the impression of Grindley being reptilian.
‘He was to have paid me.’
‘He was to have paid me too,’ grumbled Grindley.
‘He was to have invested in your voyage, surely Captain Grindley. That is not quite the same.’
‘Well, that may be so,’ broke in Cranbrooke, ‘but it seems our Mr Hooker has, not uncharacteristically, disappointed both of your expectations. Captain Grindley, having suffered the death of his principal, Mr Buchanan, must now risk his voyage under-capitalised, while you, Captain Kite, if you will excuse my presumption, would seem to be cast on an unfamiliar shore with a similar lack of funds.’
Kite nodded. ‘That is so, sir,’ he said warily, wondering where the conversation was leading to, for there was little doubt Cranbrooke was a man speaking with a purpose. Instead, Kite sought to turn the conversation away from himself and, recollecting the Topass Rahman’s allusion to a Mr Buchanan, saw one means by which he might do this and, at the same time, provoke Grindley into leaving.
‘But as I understand it, and this may be a presumption on my part, Captain Grindley’s vessel is co-owned by a certain Pestonjee Banajee.’
‘How the devil d’you know that?’ croaked Grindley.
‘I am learning the ways of the East, sir,’ Kite said with what he hoped was a disarming smile, ‘from a topass whom Hooker engaged to assist me in the management of my schooner whilst we are in Bombay.’
‘Muckbul Ali Rahman,’ Cranbrooke said with a meaningful look at Grindley.
‘Do you have anything against this man, sir?’ Kite asked sharply. ‘If so, I should be obliged if you would let me know.’
‘No, not at all. It argues Hooker’s shrewdness. Ali Rahman is one of the best interpreters in Bombay and is a man of proven intelligence and integrity. I believe he was formerly a first-rate sea-cunny, was he not Grindley?’
Grindley nodded. ‘Yes, he was acknowledged to be so among the Country commanders, certainly. He left sea-going employment some three or so years ago after contracting a marriage and has eked out a precarious existence as a topass ever since.’
‘Well, let us come to the matter-in-hand, gentlemen,’ Cranbrooke said, turning to Kite who realised his allusion to the Indian part-owner of the Carnatic had been neatly side-stepped. ‘As it happens, Captain Kite, and in view of your circumstances, Captain Grindley has made a suggestion that might appeal to you and kill two birds with a single sling-shot.’
‘He has?’ Kite showed his surprise.
‘Your schooner, Captain,’ Grindley broke in, ‘looks a fine, fast craft. What was she built as? A privateer-cum-slaver? Ah, I thought so. Well, she would find a ready market and realise you some capital… No, please hear what I have to say before you comment. Now, having solved the problem of your immediate fiscal needs, I am in addition to being under capitalised, in need of one officer. It is not difficult to find a suitable man, but if you were to accept the post as chief officer and were to invest in our voyage, I will ensure that you undertake few of the duties of the rank since I shall continue to rely upon the officer presently in that post for our day-to-day routine. The benefits which will accrue to us both would be considerable if our voyage is a success and I see no reason why it should not be if we sail without delay. There are rumours of reinforcements to the French squadron at Île de France, but there is little risk if we take the current favourable monsoon across the Bay of Bengal so, what do you say, Captain Kite?’
After his initial protest at the notion of selling Spitfire and investing the surplus profit in the Carnatic’s voyage, Kite had held his peace, curious to hear what Grindley, and by implication Cranbrooke, had to propose. Now he was able to non-plus them both.
‘It seems hardly fair to the officer presently incumbent,’ he remarked casually. ‘Besides, what provision have you made in this plan for my wife, Captain Grindley?’
‘Your wife, sir? You have your wife on board?’
‘Aye, and my wife’s companion?’
‘Good Lord,’ Cranbrooke murmured.
‘You have two women aboard that schooner of yours?’ Grindley was astonished.
Kite inclined his head, an amused smile playing round the corner of his mouth as he rose to his feet. ‘Thank you for your kind offer, gentlemen, but I was not intending to sell the Spitfire. You are right to remark upon her speed, however, and I was therefore mindful of loading a cargo of my own. Indeed sir,’ and Kite turned towards the President, ‘I was hoping to solicit your advice in the matter.’
‘Please remain a moment, Captain,’ Cranbrooke insisted and Kite sat down again.
‘And what were you intending to load, Captain Kite?’ Grindley asked in a tone of low apprehension.
‘Well opium, of course.’
‘Of course,’ breathed Grindley, his face setting in a mask of suppressed fury.
‘I see,’ said Cranbrooke. ‘Well, of course, there is little we can do to prevent you, Captain.’
‘Prevent me? Why should you wish to prevent me?’ Kite asked, genuinely surprised.’
‘A surplus of such a delicate commodity depresses the market, Captain,’ Grindley said as though teaching a child.
‘Surplus? I thought the market inexhaustible. Ah, but I should arrive before yourself, is that it?’
‘It is entirely possible, if you do not wreck yourself in the China Seas.’
‘But surely the capacity of my schooner poses no threat to a ship the size of the Carnatic. She must measure all of nine hundred tons…’
‘She exceeds one thousand, but that is not the point, the point is we should consider you an interloper.’
‘And what precisely is an interloper?’ Kite asked, affecting total ignorance.
Grindley sighed. ‘You see, Captain Kite, you know nothing of our ways on this coast.’
‘An interloper, Captain Kite,’ Cranbrooke explained, breaking in on Grindley’s patronising, ‘is a trader who breaks the monopoly. As you know the Honourable Company has the chartered right to trade between Great Britain and India. Here, in India, it licenses what we refer to as “the Country trade” carried out in locally built ships like Captain Grindley’s Carnatic which are free to carry goods between India, Pegu, Sumatra, the Malay ports and China, but must perforce tranship any bound for Europe into the Company’s Indiamen. There are those who, under the device of a flag other than their own, circumvent these regulations and, reprehensibly enough many of these adventurers are Englishmen and Scotchmen…’
‘They chiefly use the ensign of the Austrian Netherlands,’ Grindley added didactically, his tongue flickering over his lower lip, ‘and register their vessels in Ostend, which is no great distance from London.’
‘Of that at least I am aware,’ Kite snapped sarcastically.
‘The point at issue, Captain Kite,’ Cranbrooke continued smoothly, ‘is that you would become an interloper and your ship and cargo subject to due process of law, should you fall foul of it. It was our intention to assist you out of your problem.’
It was on the tip of Kite’s tongue to counter with the remark that, far from assisting him, he would have supplied them with a fast vessel capable of shifting a small but valuable cargo of opium, a fact which he guessed had the potential to enrich them far more than the price of the Spitfire herself.
Kite stood up. He could not decide which was the most repugnant to him, the prospect of sailing as Grindley’s subordinate, or selling the loyal little Spitfire. However, he knew which would deprive him of any chance of regaining his fortune. ‘Gentlemen, there seems little point in continuing this discussion. My schooner is not on the market. It appears that Captain Grindley and I are about to become competitors.’ Kite bowed, ‘Your servant, Gentlemen.’
Out in the sun Kite felt the sweat crawl down his skin under his heavy clothes. He felt strangely exhilarated after this unexpected encounter. The sense of being flung back upon his own resources was at once a challenge and a profound concern, but the expression upon the face of the odious Grindley somehow elevated his mood. Now he almost laughed aloud at the notion of serving under the man and yet Grindley’s reaction to the news that he, Kite, was contemplating loading a cargo of opium was encouraging. The fact that it had unsettled Grindley at least underlined the basic merit of the idea insofar as recouping his own lost fortune was concerned. If he could carry Rahman off to sea again and find himself some decent charts of the Malacca Strait and South China Sea, he thought that he might not return to England empty handed.
In this buoyant mood Kite walked down to the landing place and the waiting boat. His only real problem, a problem that he had hoped Cranbrooke might out of charity have advised him about, was how to discover a supplier of a cargo of opium. However, it was understandable that Cranbrooke was not in favour of interlopers. But Hooker, in one of their many conversations had indicated that no matter what restrictions the East India Company placed upon trade, even their own officials, such as the chief factor at Bombay, would willingly indulge in any private trade by which they gained privately. There was, Hooker had assured him, ample scope under the principle of the nod and the wink.
On board he broached the subject of a supplier of a shipment of opium with Nisha who advised him that while Cranbrooke might well have helped, he should consult Rahman. So, that afternoon, when the sun burned down on the green waters of Bombay harbour, Kite summoned the topass aft to where he lounged under the shade of the awning Harper had had stretched over the main boom.
‘Mister Rahman,’ Kite began, uncertain how to address the handsome Indian and yet wishing to assure the man that he was offering him an alliance, ‘I wish to load a consignment for China and I need a supracargo as well as a pilot for the China Sea, but more than this I need an agent through whom I might buy a cargo…’
‘You are talking about opium, Sahib?’
‘I am talking about opium, Mister Rahman.’
Rahman seemed to consider the matter for a moment and then asked, ‘Kite Sahib, may I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Did you know Hooker Sahib was intending to invest in Captain Grindley’s ship, the Carnatic?’
Kite nodded. ‘Yes, he told me that just before his death. I was introduced to Captain Grindley at the castle this morning. Now, might I ask you a question? Tell me, do you know why Grindley needs a backer when, although this Mr Buchanan is dead, I understand that his ship is also owned by a certain Pestonjee Banajee?’
‘Ah, a famous Parsee sir, and Captain Grindley is also an owner of the Carnatic. But Pestonjee Banajee holds only a small interest in the Carnatic, and anyway, he is an old man.’ Rahman paused, cocked his head to one side in thought, then added, ‘but he would be the man to find you a cargo of fine Malwa opium. If you will profit by my advice, Kite Sahib, you will call upon Pestonjee Banajee and, if you will permit me to come with you…’
‘Of course.’
Rahman inclined his head in a gracious gesture of acceptance. ‘Then I shall arrange the matter, Kite Sahib. Might I have the use of your long boat this afternoon after the sun is well past the zenith?’
‘Certainly, but Mister Rahman, are you prepared to accompany us to China? I would not have you think that I cannot pay you…’
‘Give me five per centum of your gross profits, Kite Sahib. With that I shall be content.’
Kite met the Indian’s eyes and held his gaze as he extended out his own hand. ‘You must forgive my unfamiliarity with the customs of this coast, Mister Rahman. In my country we shake hands to seal an arrangement.’
‘I have seen this often, Kite Sahib,’ and Rahman took Kite’s hand in a firm grasp.
‘And you will not mind leaving your wife for a few months?’
Rahman smiled and rolled his head from side to side. ‘Not for five per centum. Besides, my wife has a mother and has borne me many children, I shall not mind too much.’
And as they shook hands both men laughed together.
‘May I have a word, Cap’n?’
‘Zachariah,’ Kite said looking up. He had been sitting on the deck, his back to the companionway and must have dozed off in the heat. He brushed the flies off his face and crooked his right forearm over his brow as Harper’s bulk loomed over him, dark against the brilliant blue of the sky. ‘Of course. What is it?’
‘It’s the hands, Cap’n, they want paying.’
‘You sound concerned; what is their mood?’
Harper shrugged. ‘They could do with a run ashore.’
‘Of course, and I shall pay them an advance this evening, but when I do so I shall remind them that we are about to depart upon a voyage that may yield us a handsome dividend. For the nonce, they may do what they please amid the stews of Bombay, I presume there are stews in Bombay, Zachariah?’
‘So I’m given to understand, Cap’n, and the little nautch girls hereabouts are known for the extremity of their copulations.’
‘Good heavens, Mr Harper,’ Sarah broke in as she ascended the companionway behind Kite, ‘in what way?’
‘Well, Ma’am, I don’t rightly know how to…’ Harper flushed at the unexpected interruption.
‘Oh, don’t be coy, Mr Harper, do enlarge.’ Sarah was at her most charming and disarmingly improper.
Kite grinned at Harper’s discomfiture. ‘I believe they are excessively athletic, Sarah,’ he said, turning back to Harper to add, ‘do you tell the hands that I’ll pay them at sunset and the larboard watch can go ashore until dawn.’
‘Thank you, Cap’n, I’ll pass the word,’ Harper said, turning to go forward.
‘And what will you do yourself, Mr Harper, to tame the beast within you?’
‘Sarah!’ Kite protested as the colour mounted up Harper’s bull-neck.
‘Why, er, nothing Ma’am,’ Harper said awkwardly.
‘While my husband was hob-nobbing with the chief factor, or president, or whatever the worthy calls himself, I had cookie buy a pullet or two and we should be delighted if you would join us for dinner tonight. Nisha needs a partner and I should not like my husband to too readily enjoy the company of two women. Come, will you say yes?’
Harper’s ugly visage cracked in a wide grin. ‘Why yes, of course, Ma’am.’
‘The matter is settled then,’ said Sarah and, as Harper resumed his progress forward with a jauntier stride, she winked at Kite. ‘There is a match there, William,’ Sarah whispered, ‘for I am certain she is sweet on him.’
‘Good heavens, Sarah, the fact that she could not tolerate her husband does not mean she is like a bitch on heat.’
‘Ah, but she is,’ Sarah hissed wickedly, ‘and she is free of all constraint.’ And with this assertion, Sarah ducked below, leaving Kite to a feeling of guilty disappointment.
Rahman reappeared before three hours had passed and requested that Kite accompany him immediately. Handing over the allocation of pay to McClusky, who had been assisting his master in the accounting, Kite donned his coat and hat, and followed Rahman back into the boat. The oarsmen were obviously tired and Kite greeted them with the news that they would be paid on their return and that the larboard watch would be going ashore that night.
‘But we’re all in t’other watch, sir,’ one man protested.
‘Well then,’ Kite responded swiftly, ‘your anticipation will make your liberty tomorrow night all the sweeter.’
And the laughter in the boat pleased Kite as the oarsmen bent to their task.
Pestonjee Banajee lived in considerable state, his fine house being fronted with a wide patio of black and pink marble on either side of which were laid out formal gardens on the English pattern of parterres. Two bearers waited on the old man, who sat, cross legged and barefooted upon a large cushion to receive his guests.
‘You are welcome Captain Kite,’ said Banajee, waving Kite to a solitary French-made fauteil. His English was excellent, though his accent was thick, his words being spoken through a mouth devoid of teeth. His wizened face was shrewd, but not unkind, the dark eyes swimming, their whites brown with age. ‘Your dubash,’ and here Banajee indicated Rahman, ‘is a good man and you may trust him. He tells me that you wish to load a consignment of opium for China.’
‘That is so, sir.’ Kite replied.
‘I had expected a younger man, Captain Kite,’ the old Parsee said with a faint smile increasing the wrinkles on his face.
‘I had not expected to be a ship-master again, sir, but fortune plays tricks upon us.’
‘You owned ships?’
‘In Liverpool, yes, but the war with the Americans and the French has caused some of us to suffer grievously.’
‘And are you seeking a freight or a cargo?’ Beside him Rahman gave a low cough.
‘It depends upon the price of the cargo.’
‘You are a gambler, Captain?’
‘No sir, but I have only one chance. I must make the best of it; besides, I have Mister Rahman here to consider.’
Banajee transferred his attention momentarily to the standing topass. ‘Oh? And what consideration is that?’
‘He is to receive a percentage on the voyage.’
Banajee’s face cracked into a wide grin. ‘You are to be congratulated, Muckbul Ali Rahman, to drive so hard a bargain. I hope, Captain, you gave him no more than two per centum…’
‘I gave him five, sir,’ said Kite, unembarrassed. ‘I have need of his services as a pilot as well as interpreter.’
‘Five per centum is a partnership, Captain Kite. I do not think you have the rapacity of most of your countrymen.’
Kite inclined his head. ‘As you observed sir, I am not a young man.’
Bomanjee seemed amused by this riposte. ‘But age must confer wisdom if it is to have value,’ he retorted, and turned again to Rahman to address a few words in Hindustani to the topass. Kite divined they were questions, for Rahman’s responses were more complex. After a few moments of several such exchanges, they culminated in a longer statement from the Parsee, to which Rahman grunted his assent. Seemingly satisfied, Bomanjee returned to Kite.
‘I have spoken with your dubash, Captain, on the subject of your cargo. I shall send you a sufficiency of best Malwa opium, bound and ready for shipment in chests. If you wish to purchase these, I shall offer them to you at seven hundred and fifty rupees a chest, that is to say that a ton of opium will require an outlay of eleven thousand, two hundred and fifty rupees. If you wish, I can advance you a loan on respondentia and also offer you an additional freight of tin and, should you have surplus space, a quantity of Gujerati cotton piece goods.’
Kite declined the loan, conferred briefly with Rahman on the rate of exchange and, after a moment’s reflection, ordered five tons of opium. ‘If I have the capacity, sir, I should be happy to load tin and cotton goods.’
Banajee nodded approvingly. ‘You will do very well, Captain, especially if you arrive in the Pearl River before Captain Grindley.’
‘But do you not have shares in the Carnatic yourself, sir?’ Kite asked, puzzled.
Banajee gestured around him. ‘What need have I of a few shares in one ship, Captain. They are of little importance to me now…’ Banajee smiled, implying more lay behind this disclaimer. ‘The opium will be with you the day after tomorrow, Captain.’
It was clear the interview was at an end and Kite rose and bowed. ‘I am indebted to you, sir.’
Banajee waved his right hand dismissively. ‘Not at all, Captain, you are to pay, and it is you who will undertake the voyage.’
‘But I am indebted to you for your kindness.’
‘Thank you.’ Kite was about to depart but Banajee held up his hand. ‘By the way, I understand that Mr Hooker died by his own hand.’
‘So it is assumed, sir,’ Kite replied, looking directly into Banajee’s eyes and wondering whether the old Parsee knew better or had had a hand in the affair.
‘But one never knows the truth about so much, Captain.’
‘Not all of it, certainly.’
‘It is a pity you did not come out to India when we were both younger men.’
‘I was in the West Indies and North America, sir.’
‘Ah, America… It is far distant. I build ships and I own ships, but never have I wanted to sail in a ship, Captain.’
‘You are very wise, sir.’
‘Yes, I think you are right.’ Banajee chuckled, adding, ‘it is a better way of becoming rich.’
‘It is generally more certain, sir, but is not always so when war intervenes.’
‘As in your own case, no. But you have been unfortunate. It is time that Ahura Mazda smiled upon you. Good day, Captain Kite.’
‘You made a great impression, Kite Sahib,’ Rahman enthused as they made their way back towards the boat lying alongside the steps fronting the Parsee magnate’s opulent dwelling.
‘He is an extraordinary man. But tell me, who or what is Ahura Mazda, and what is a dubash?’
‘Ahura Mazda is the supreme being, the Lord Wisdom of the Parsees, Kite Sahib, the followers of the path of Zarathustra. Ahura Mazda is the creator of all that is good and is in perpetual conflict with Ahriman, the Lord of Evil. It is a creed peculiar to the Parsees, Kite Sahib, they are from far away and came here to Bombay many, many years ago.’
‘And you are not a Parsee?’
Rahman shook his head. ‘Oh, no! I am a Hundu.’
‘And what is a dubash?’
A man who possesses two tongues, Kite Sahib, like a topass but of greater skill.’
‘Then you too are approved of, Mister Rahman, and you have done a good day’s work.’
‘We have done a good day’s work together, Kite Sahib.’
‘And we shall do many more, I hope.’
‘I am hoping so too.’
‘Then you shall go back to your wife tonight, and rejoin the ship when the cargo comes alongside the day after tomorrow.’
‘And when I shall be wanting to go to sea again,’ Rahman said with a smile, and both men were again laughing as they reached the boat.