Mouse (12 page)

Bored, ShaoShu scurried up one of the ship's tall sails. He found it remarkably easy to do with the bamboo slats. Stopping near the top, he surveyed the surroundings. From this vantage point, he could see all around HaiZhe's warehouse. Soldiers and sailors were busy removing items from the weapons wing, transporting them to Tonglong's ship and the six merchant vessels. They were making quick work of it.

After some time, Lei returned with a box under his arm. He entered Tonglong's cabin and emerged a quarter of an hour later with the box, plus a small scroll. Lei was blowing on the scroll's wax seal to cool it down, and ShaoShu noticed that he was now wearing a large ring. It was shiny, so it caught ShaoShu's attention. He strained his eyes and saw that the ring had a raised image on top. ShaoShu knew that these types of rings were used to imprint a special pattern or design into a wax seal as a private signal. The image on this ring matched the image imprinted in the wax on the scroll. Even from where he rested, ShaoShu could see that the image was a cobra.

Lei seemed to suddenly remember that he was wearing the ring and slipped it into one of his holster
pouches. He glanced around and then up. His eyes met ShaoShu's, and Lei's face darkened. He slid the scroll into the folds of his robe and ordered ShaoShu down.

ShaoShu stepped onto the deck, and Lei seized his elbow. “I warned you to keep your nose out of my business, Little Mouse,” Lei said in a harsh whisper. “You're coming with me. General Tonglong will be so busy the next few days, he won't even miss you. I am going to show you how a sailor ties knots. Your contortionist tricks will get you nowhere on my watch.”

S
haoShu sat propped beside LoBak in the hold of Tonglong's ship, surround by crates of cannonballs. He had never been tied up so tightly or so thoroughly Complex knots held his arms pinned to his sides with rope that didn't have the slightest stretch. No matter how much he tried to twist or turn or expand or compress his body the bindings did not give.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Above his head, he heard the sound of cannons being repositioned on deck and Lei's strong voice shouting orders. The boats were fully loaded and the men were being pressed to set sail as soon as possible in order to make another attack. It seemed Tonglong was eager to put his new power to use.

ShaoShu opened his eyes and turned to LoBak, whose gag had been removed by one of the kinder sailors. So far, nobody suspected that he and LoBak knew each other.

“I am so sorry,” ShaoShu said. “I should never have asked you to help me.”

“Do not say such things,” LoBak replied in a brittle voice. “I knew what was at risk, even if you did not. Men like HaiZhe, Tonglong, and Lei are not to be trifled with. We should consider ourselves fortunate we are still breathing. You, especially.”

ShaoShu frowned. “I wish I could have snuck off this ship when we first landed. I had planned to run to your shop to get Ying and Hok. They would know what to do.”

“That would have proved fruitless. They are gone. We agreed that if I did not return within a few hours, something was amiss and they were to leave before first light. I am sure they were well on their way before this vessel even made it to the mouth of the Qiantang River.”

ShaoShu breathed a sigh of relief. “That's good. Where did they go?”

“Ying was to take his mother to the mountains, while Hok was to accompany her temple brothers Fu and Malao to a nearby island with a Round Eye called Charles. They will be staying in a place known as Smuggler's Island, which is home to a large band of very rough foreigners. We had agreed that this was the best plan, but now I have my doubts.”

“What do you mean?” ShaoShu asked.

“I overheard sailors talking as they loaded this hold. They spoke of reports about a group of Round Eye pirate ships traveling south together just this morning. They think the boats came from Smuggler's Island, and Tonglong means to attack the island's stronghold cove while it is shorthanded.”

“Oh, no!” ShaoShu whispered. “Tonglong
hates
foreigners! I wish there was something we could do to warn them.” Frustrated, he struggled and strained against his bindings one more time, but it was no use. He made no headway whatsoever. Tired, he leaned back against a cannonball crate.

Something began to stir next to ShaoShu's belly button, and he held his breath. At first it felt like a mosquito, but then it began to tickle. Unable to control himself, he giggled softly.

“This is no laughing matter,” LoBak said.

“Sorry, sir,” ShaoShu said. “It's my mouse. He lives in a pouch attached to my sash. When Lei tied me up, he must have forgotten about it. He wrapped the ropes right over the pouch. I don't think my mouse likes it. He's squirming around, trying to get out. It tickles.”

ShaoShu sucked in his stomach to give the mouse a little more room, and it stopped squirming. How ever, its lack of motion was replaced with something else—the sound of tiny teeth gnashing together.

“Hey!” ShaoShu whispered. “He's trying to chew his way out!”

LoBak glanced at ShaoShu's ropes. “Are you sure?”

ShaoShu nodded.

“It looks like your major bindings converge right over your midsection,” LoBak said. “If he makes it all the way through, there is a good chance you might be able to wriggle free!”

ShaoShu grinned. “That's exactly what I was thinking.”

“A
hoy, friend!” Charles shouted in Dutch to the fishing boat drifting across the mouth of Smuggler's Island cove. “Permission to enter your sheltered waters?”

“Why, Charles!” one of the fishermen replied in the same language. “What have you done to your sloop? Come in! Come in!”

Charles steered his newly changed sloop toward the cove's calm waters in the fading daylight. He'd modified his boat's rigging so much and painted it such a different color that even he had a hard time recognizing it.

The fishing boat gave way, and the fishermen began hoisting several flags in quick succession. Charles
waved to the man who'd greeted him, and while he recognized his face, he didn't recall his name. Nor could he interpret the signal flag messages that were flying up and down the fishing boat's mast.

It had been a while since Charles had had to interpret signal flags, but he should have been able to decipher at least some of the message. The fact that he couldn't meant that Captain Henrik wasn't there. Some one else was in charge.

As Charles’ sloop slipped through the cove, he saw only one ship moored there—a schooner that belonged to a Captain Rutger. No other boats were in sight, which was odd. Charles had never seen fewer than three ships in the cove at any one time. Usually there were five or more.

Hok walked over to his side. “Is everything all right? You look concerned.”

“Everything is fine,” Charles replied.

Hok scanned their surroundings and pointed toward the vessel patrolling the mouth of the cove. “That's not really a fishing boat, is it?”

“Sure it is,” Charles said. “They're trolling for tomorrow's breakfast. Fish like to inhabit the narrow breakwater where the cove meets the ocean. As you've guessed, the fishermen are also sentries. They are the first line of defense in case there is an attack.” He pointed to a cluster of trees on each side of the cove's rocky mouth. “The second line of defense is the cannons positioned in those two tree groupings. If the fishermen were to give the signal, we would be blown out of the water.”

Hok nodded and looked back at him, staring with unblinking eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“There is something troubling you. I can sense it. I thought you would be happy to be back among your friends.”

“I am happy,” Charles said. “Sort of. I didn't say anything earlier because I didn't want to get your hopes up, but I had thought your father, Captain Henrik, would be here. I thought his crew would be, too. My crew.”

Hok continued to stare at him, her expression unchanged.

“I am certain he is not here, though,” Charles went on. “His ship is not in the cove, and they aren't using his signal book. Another captain is in charge right now. Captain Rutger is a good man. You'll like him.”

Hok looked away, over the side. “I remember you once told me that my father was conducting business in the south. I guess I hoped he would be here, too. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever see him again.”

“We'll know more after we talk with Captain Rutger. Look, there he is, aboard his schooner.”

Charles pointed to a slender man in his forties with bright intelligent eyes. He had brown hair, broad shoulders, and a strong chin. He stood like a rock, grinning, upon the poop deck.

“Ahoy, Captain Rutger!” Charles called out in Dutch. “Permission to come aboard?”

“Charles!” Captain Rutger replied in Chinese with a warm laugh. “Permission granted! A hearty welcome to you and your mates!”

Charles glanced back at Fu in the stern, then up at Malao in the rigging. “We're going to tie off to that large boat,” Charles said. “Prepare to drop sail on my mark. Ready … and … release sheets!”

Fu and Malao raced about, lowering the sails with seaman-like precision. Charles expertly steered his sloop alongside the schooner, the sides of the vessels bumping gently, and Captain Rutger dropped them a line. Charles tied off his boat and climbed aboard the schooner, followed by Hok, Malao, and Fu.

“Welcome aboard,” Captain Rutger said in perfect Mandarin. “Any friends of Charles’ are friends of mine. To make things more comfortable, I shall speak in your native tongue.”

“Me too,” Charles said.

“Thank you,” Hok said. She, Fu, and Malao bowed.

“Please,” Captain Rutger said. “Dispense with the formalities. We shall spend a small amount of time getting acquainted; then we will eat. After seeing the signal flags, I knew we were expecting friends. I am doubly pleased that it is you, Charles. I've taken the liberty of having my cook throw something together. I suppose you are famished.”

Charles saw Fu's eyes light up.

“Thank you,” Charles said. “We left in a hurry before sunrise and didn't pack any supplies besides water. We're starving.”

“Come below, then,” Captain Rutger said. “We shall set you up straightaway.”

As they crossed the deck, Charles watched Hok, Fu, and Malao marvel over what they saw. There were innumerable sheets, stays, ratlines, and ropes running in every direction, connecting the schooner's three towering masts to rows of reefed sails. Weathered sailors lounged about, darning socks or smoking cigars, and caged chickens and rabbits darted within their on-deck enclosures under the watchful eye of the ship's goat, whose sole purpose was to provide milk each morning for the officers’ tea.

How Charles missed seafaring life. It was like having an entire city squeezed into a space not much larger than an average house. It made him feel secure.

They climbed belowdecks and weaved their way through rows of hammocks filled with sleeping men. These men would make up the second watch, and Charles recognized a few of the bearded faces. He looked forward to catching up with them.

As they neared Captain Rutger's cabin, Charles detected the smell of bacon. His mouth began to water and his stomach growled. Fu turned to him with eager eyes and said, “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes, it is,” Charles replied happily. “I hope you don't mind bacon for dinner. Considering all those chickens on deck, we'll likely have fresh eggs, too. We typically eat this combination for breakfast, and it might seem a little odd.”

Fu grinned. “Any man who serves breakfast food for dinner is a friend of mine!”

Captain Rutger laughed, and he led them into his private dining cabin, just aft of his living quarters. In the center of the room was a large table hanging from a series of ropes, designed to accommodate the ship's sway. Several benches were nailed to the floor around it. Fortunately, none of these precautions would be necessary while they were in the calm waters of the cove.

“This is neat!” Malao said, giving the swinging table a shove.

“So it is,” Captain Rutger said. “Please, sit down and tell me what brings you here. I hope it wasn't to see Captain Henrik. He left this morning with most of our squadron to conduct some business in Taiwan.”