Mandarin-Gold (20 page)

As he watched the other man go off happily, his doubts removed, Gunn realized that his experience had increased another ability he had not known he possessed; the gift of persuasion. For in persuading MacPherson that he could carry out what he had originally only mentioned as a passing thought, he had also persuaded himself.

10

In Which Mr Crutchley is Persuaded to Make a Move

Captain Fernandes smoothed back his thick curly hair, put on his white cap and went in to see Crutchley. He was frightened of the man, not only because of his physical size, but because of his moods. One day Crutchley would offer him a glass of rum; the next, smash the glass out of his hand, shouting that Fernandes was drunk or insulting.

Fernandes knew that Crutchley had just marooned Gunn, which was virtually murder by a gentler name. And he feared for his own safety, his own future. Without money or character or influence in the East, you lacked the power to maintain even a basic human dignity. Fernandes realized that Crutchley would just as easily be rid of him; he was also expendable.

'Landfall on the port bow, sir,' he announced briskly, keeping fear out of his voice.

'Don't be a bloody fool.' said Crutchley thickly, a glass of rum in his hand. 'We've not been out of sight of land since we left Namoa. Do you mean we've reached our compass bearing?'

'Well, for God's sake don't run aground or hole the bottom. Stand off at a half a mile, if it's shallow. Take that interpreter fellow, Mackereth, and six Lascars with pistols and staves in the longboat, and see what sort of reception the locals give you.'

'You mean you want
me
to go ashore, sir?'

'And why ever not?'

'I don't like leaving the ship, sir. A captain should remain in command at all times.'

'You mean you're bloody frightened, you dago. Get in that longboat and do as I tell you.
I'm
in command. Find out the going price for the mud, and how much they will take, and then report back to me.'

Fernandes swallowed. Who could stand up for rules against Crutchley? His gut began to burn with the fire of humiliation. He saluted, and went out to give his orders.

Mackereth came up on deck as the bows swung in towards the opalescent greenness of the shore. He could see a thin rim of waves breaking like a wide white smile. The air felt very hot and still; seabirds were calling and diving in their wake. The rusty anchor chains screamed out, davits swung like hinged fingers, and the longboat went slowly into the water.

'Good.' Mackereth felt relieved; he would not be left behind, like Gunn. He went down to his cabin; it seemed suddenly very friendly. He looked for reassurance at the brass crucifix on the locker by his bunk; the figure on the cross looked back at him.

'Oh, God,' he prayed, 'under whose rule we all serve, let us come to no harm in this journey we make in thy name.' Of course, it was hardly in God's name; but at least God should benefit if Mackereth made enough money to allow tracts to be translated and distributed. God would understand.

Mackereth poured himself some whisky. It was bad to drink in this heat, but he felt hollow and frightened, and the drink drove out the fear; or some of it. Then he came up on deck and climbed over the rail, and went down the swinging rope ladder into the boat. The coxswain nodded to the oarsmen; oars flicked like silver fish in the cobalt sea.

Fernandes scanned the beach. It was still deserted, but as they approached within thirty yards, three figures walked out of the bushes and stood, watching them. They were dark-skinned natives, with grass-cloth drawers and rattan hats against the fierce blaze of the sun.

'Easy all!' shouted Fernandes. The sailors shipped their oars, and the boat drifted on through the chuckling, glittering water. White waves flung themselves uselessly against the shore, and soaked back in a flurry of foam.

'All wantee number one Chinese man! All chop, quickly run! Make muchee Chinese silver topside!' Fernandes shouted. His voice sounded high and nervous. The men on the shore still stood in silence, watching them.

As the bows grated on loose shingle, they jumped out into the shallow water and waded ashore. The six Lascars walked behind them, pistols in their belts. The first Chinese man began to gabble away, head on one side. Mackereth questioned him closely; then turned to Fernandes.

The first man put his hand in the folds of his loincloth and pulled out a handful of gold coins: Mackereth picked out one and examined it.

‘They're Portuguese guineas.'

'Do they know their value?' asked Fernandes. 'Tell them they're not as good as silver.'

'I have done so.' said Mackereth. ‘They say the mandarin has four chests of golden guineas inland. Taken from some boat that went down. But they do not realize its value in trade. They think it is inferior to silver.'

'Follow me;' said Mackereth, relishing the unlikely role of leader. In single file, they followed the three Chinese into the jungle. Under the thick bamboos, it was much darker and hotter than any of them had imagined. Sweat glistened on their bodies like glass. They reached a clearing; another Chinese man was standing outside a thatched hut. He bowed to them and said something to Mackereth.

'He wants us to rest awhile and drink some rice wine with him. I think we should. We have to go at these people's pace. It's no good rushing them.'

'Make it as quick as you can then. I think we've come more than fifty yards.'

'Distance is deceptive in the heat,' said Mackereth reassuringly.

The Chinese cupped his hands; three girls came out of the hut carrying bamboo trays with oval Chinese cups and jugs. They filled the cups and took them round to the Lascars.

‘What about us?' asked Fernandes.

'Wait,' said Mackereth. 'The leader has explained it is the custom to give drink to the servants first, and to the quality afterwards.'

'As you say,' said Fernandes, but he hated being surrounded by a solid green wall of trees. It seemed to him that he was being watched and fear ran cold fingers down his back. The Lascars drank greedily and held out the little cups for more.

Another girl brought out two slightly larger cups containing pale wine. It tasted sweet and was very cold. A noise made Fernandes turn, glass half empty. One of the Lascars was down on his knees. Then he pitched forward on the ground. - 'What's the matter with him?'

'Probably the heat.'

'No!' cried Fernandes in terror, for suddenly other Lascars were falling and the rest were staggering about, hands in front of them like blind men.

'It's a trap! They've been drugged. Come on! Back to the boat!'

He turned to run, and a hard voice called out from the jungle: 'Stand where you are, captain. Put your hands on your head. And you, Mr Mackereth.'

'My God,' said Fernandes hoarsely.

'You do well to call upon your Maker,' said MacPherson, coming out of the trees, a sabre in his right hand. 'But you should remember, the gods help those who help themselves.'

'Who are you?' asked Fernandes, some slight courage returning. After all, this man spoke English.

As he spoke, other men ran out of the hut to the Lascars who lay inert or writhed feebly on the ground, like sleepers overcome by evil dreams? They relieved them of their pistols, stripped off their clothes, and bound their wrists and ankles with jungle creeper.

'What is the meaning of this attack?' asked Mackereth.

'We are going back with you to the
Hesperides,'
replied MacPherson.

‘The name's MacPherson, in case you want to know. We are going to take over the
Hesperides.'

'This is mutiny,' whispered Fernandes. 'I never meant any harm to Gunn. I swear I didn't.'

'You didn't mean any good to me, either,' said Gunn. 'Now it is my turn.'

They walked back through the trees to the beach. MacPherson's men now wearing the Lascars' clothes, had already launched the longboat.

'What will you do with us?' asked Fernandes fearfully.

'That depends,' said MacPherson casually. 'On what?'

'On how you behave. Turn about, and sit facing the stern. And if either of you shout or give any warning to Crutchley, I'll shoot you both out of hand.'

'When we draw near to the
Hesperides,
Crutchley or someone else may ask who we are,' MacPherson told Fernandes. 'You say we are from the mandarin, and we have to come aboard.'

'He'll see you are not Chinese.'

'We've got these,' said MacPherson, tapping his rattan hat. 'He won't see our faces until we
are
aboard. That is unless you intend to warn him?'

Fernandes shouted: 'Prepare to pull alongside! Easy, port side. Hard over, starboard side. All together —
row!'

The longboat bumped against the tarred hull. MacPherson gripped the rope ladder, keeping his face down so that anyone on the high deck would only see the top of his head. He swung up easily hand over hand and on to the deck.

'You speakee pidgin?' Crutchley asked.

'Much speakee. Plenty gold from mandarin. You likee, yes? No trub at all. All easy going,' said MacPherson, head still down as he climbed over the rail. Gunn swarmed up after him, and then came two Chinese.

'You!' said Crutchley in amazement, as he stared at Gunn. 'I thought you were dead.'

Bemused with drink and heat and surprise, Crutchley put up one hand to his eyes to shut out the blinding light, to try and force himself to focus his thoughts. Then he shouted to Captain Fernandes, 'Send up all the Lascars!'

'Name of 'MacPherson. Lately mate of the
Black Boy.'