The Monsoon (24 page)

“Dutchmen,” Aboli murmured, as he took his seat on the bench beside Hal. They listened for a while. As a matter of survival all three had learned to speak the language during their captivity.

A group of five tough-looking sailors sat at the table beside them. They seemed less drunk than the others, but they were speaking loudly to make themselves heard above the din. Hal listened for a while but heard nothing of interest. A Hottentot serving-wench brought them foaming pots of beer.

Daniel tasted his and made a face.

“Piss! Still warm from the pig,” he said, but took another swig.

Hal did not touch his, because he had just heard the Dutchman at the next table say, “We will be lucky if the devil-damned convoy ever leaves this pestilent port.” The mention of a convoy intrigued Hal.

Traders usually sailed alone. Only in times of war or other emergency did they form convoys and place themselves under the protective guns of men-o’-war. He leaned forward to hear the rest.

“Ja. I for one will not weep if I never drop anchor again in this nest of black whores and thieving Hottentots.

I have spent nearly the last guilder in my purse, and all I have to show for it is a sore head and a raw pizzle.”

“I say the skipper should take his chances and sail alone. The hell with this bastard Jangiri and his heathen crew! Die LuiPard is a match for any son of the prophet.

We don’t need to sit around here until van Rutyers is ready to nursemaid us.” Hal’s pulse spurted at the name Jangiri. It was the first time he had heard it outside Nicholas Childs’s cabinet.

“Who is van Rutyers?” Big Daniel asked quietly, and took another pull at his poisonous beer. He, too, had been eavesdropping on the Dutch sailors.

“The Dutch admiral of the Ocean of the Indies,” Hal told him.

“He is based in the Dutch factory at Batavia.” He slid a silver shilling over the dirty tabletop.

“Buy them a pot of beer, Big Danny, and listen to what they have to tell you,” he ordered, but as Daniel stood up from the bench he found himself confronted by a woman.

She stood, arms akimbo, and looked up at him with a seductive grin that lacked only a few teeth.

“Come to the back room with me, you big bull,” she told him, and I will give you something you’ve never had before.”

“What have you got, my darling?” Big Daniel showed her his bare gums in a wide grin. Teprosy?” Hal surveyed the drab swiftly, and realized that she could be a better source of information than any drunken Dutchman.

“Shame on you, Master Daniel,” he said, “that you don’t recognize a lady of quality when you see one.” The woman ogled Hal, taking in the cut and quality of his coat, the silver buttons on his waistcoat.

“Sit you down, your ladyship,” Hal invited her. She giggled and preened like a girl, pushing straggling grey strands back from her face with grimy fingers whose nails were broken and black-rimmed.

“Take a little something, for your throat’s sake. Daniel, get the lady a glass of gin.

No, no, let us not be mean. Get a full bottle.” The woman fluffed out her grubby petticoats, and dropped onto the bench opposite Hal.

“You’re a real prince, u are.” She peered into his face.

“And handsome as the yo devil, too.”

“What is your name, my beauty?” Hal asked.

“Mevrouw Maakenberg,” she answered.

“But you may call me Hannah.”

Daniel returned with a square bottle of gin and a tumbler. He poured it to the brim. Hannah lifted it with her little finger raised and took a ladylike sip. She did not wince at the ferocity of the pale spirit.

“So, Hannah, Hal smiled at her, and she wriggled like a puppy under his gaze, “there is nothing that goes on here at Good Hope that you don’t know about, is there, now?”

“That’s God own truth, if I say it myself.” She showed the gaps in her teeth again.

“Anything you want to know, sir, you ask old Hannah.” She was as good as her word.

For the next hour Hal sat opposite her and listened to what she had to tell him.

He found that behind the raddled face and bleary gin sodden eyes lurked the remnants of a once bright intelligence.

It seemed that she knew the sexual mores and leanings of every male and female in the settlement, from Governor van der Stel to the dock-workers and transport drivers. She could tell them the price of all, the produce in the market, from potatoes to mampoer, the fiery peach brandy made by the burghers. She knew which slaves were for sale, the prices their owners were asking and what they would accept.

She knew the sailing dates of every ship in the bay, her captain’s name, her cargo and every port of call on her route. She could give them an account of each ship’s latest voyage, the hazards and hardships she had encountered.

“Tell me, Hannah, why there are so many
VOC
ships lying in the bay?” He was referring to the Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, the Dutch East India Company.

“Those are all outward bound for Batavia. Governor van der Stel has ordered that all ships sailing eastward must sail in convoy under the protection of warships.”

“Why, Hannah, would he want to do that?”

“Because of Jangiri. You have heard of Jangiri, have you not?”

Hal shook his head.

“No. Who is he, or it?”

“The Sword of the Prophet that’s what he calls himself. But he’s nothing more than a bloody pirate, worse than Franky Courtney his self that’s what he is.”

Hal exchanged a glance with Aboli. Both men were taken aback to have his father’s name thrown at them so carelessly, and to know that Sir Francis and his exploits were st ill so well remembered hereabouts.

Hannah had not noticed their reaction. She took a gulp of her gin, and laughed raucously.

“In the last six months three
VOC
ships have disappeared from the Ocean of the Indies. Everybody knows it’s Jangiri’s doing. They do say he’s cost the Company a million guilders already.” Her eyes lit up with wonder.

“A million guilders! I did not know there was that much money in the world.” She leaned across the table to stare into Hal’s face. Her breath smelt like a dung-heap, but Hal did not recoil. He did not want to risk giving her offence.

“You look like somebody I know.” She puzzled over it for a moment.

“Were you ever here at Good Hope before?

I never forget a face.” Hal shook his head and Big Daniel chuckled.

“Perhaps, missus, if he showed you his pink end you would recognize it for certain, better than his face, that is.” Hal frowned at him but by this time the gin bottle was half empty and Hannah cackled.

“I’d pay a million guilders for sight of that!” She leered at Hal.

“Do you want to come in the back with Hannah? There’ll be no charge for it, such a lovely man you are.”

“Next time,” Hal promised her.

“I do know you,” she insisted.

“When you smile like that, I know you. It’ll come back to me. I never forget a face.”

“Tell me more about Jangiri,” he suggested to divert her, but she was losing her wits now.

She refilled her tumbler and held up the empty bottle.

“Everyone I love goes off and leaves me,” she said, tears flooding her eyes.

“Even the bottle don’t stay with me long.”

“Jangiri,” Hal insisted.

“Tell me about Jangiri.”

“He’s a bloody Mussulman pirate.

He burns Christian sailors just to hear them scream.”

“Where does he come from? How many ships does he command? What strength are they?”

“One of my friends was on a ship that Jangiri chased but didn’t catch,” she slurred.

“He’s a lovely boy. He wants to marry me and take me home to Amsterdam.”

“Jangiri?” Big Daniel asked.

“No, you stupid clod of earth.” Hannah bristled.

“My boyfriend.

I forget his name, but he wants to marry me. He saw Jangiri. He was lucky to escape that bloodthirsty heathen.”

“Where did this happen, Hannah? When did your friend run across Jangiri?”

“Not two months past, off the Fever Coast it was, near the isle of Madagascar.”

“What force did jangiri have?” Hal pressed.

“Many great ships,” Hannah said uncertainly.

“A fleet of warships. My friend’s ship fled.” Hal realized that she was floundering. There was little more she could tell him of importance.

But he asked a last question.

“Do you know which route the
VOC
convoy takes on its way to Batavia?” South,” she said.

“They say far south.

I’ve heard that they keep well clear of Madagascar and the islands, for that’s where Jangiri skulks, the filthy heathen.”

“When will the convoy in the bay sail?” Hal asked.

But she was gone into the fogs of alcohol. jangiri is the devil,” she whispered.

“He is the Antichrist, and all true Christians should dread him Slowly her head sagged forward, then flopped face down into the puddle of gin on the tabletop.

Daniel took a hank of her greasy grey hair and lifted her head to look into her eyes.

“The lady has left us,” he said, and let it drop again to hit the wood with a crack.

She rolled off the bench and lay on the floor, snoring loudly.

Hal took a silver ten-guilder coin from the purse on his sword-belt and pushed it down Hannah’s bodice.

“That’s more than she’ll earn on her back in a month of Sundays,” Big Daniel grunted.

“But well worth it.” Hal stood up.

“That’s better intelligence than we could get from Admiral van Ruyters himself.” On the beach All Wilson was waiting for them with the longboat. As they rowed back across the bay to the Seraph Hal sat quietly, digesting all the news Hannah had given him, and weaving it into his plans. By the time he had climbed the rope-ladder to the main deck he knew what he had to do.

Some things seem clear from what Daniel’s ladyfriend told us last night.” Hal looked around at the intent faces of his officers, who were crowded into the stern cabin.

“The first is that jangiri has his nest somewhere along here.” Hal leaned over the chart spread on his desk and placed his finger on the outline of Madagascar.

“From here he can harry the trade routes to the south and east with the greatest ease.”

Aboli grunted, “Finding his sally-port will be the trick.

He does not have to use one of the big islands as his base.

There are hundreds of other smaller ones, scattered over two thousand leagues from the Oman coast in the Arabian Sea to the Mascarene islands in the south.”

“You are right.” Hal nodded.

“Added to those, there are almost certainly dozens of other islands we do not know, that are neither named nor shown on any chart. We might sail a hundred years and not discover or explore them all.” He looked around their faces.

“If we cannot go to him, then what should we do?”

“Bring him to us,” said Ned Tyler.

Again Hal nodded.

“Bring him out of his lair. Give him a bait to tease him. The place to do that is off the Fever Coast. We will have to cruise off the islands of Madagascar and Zanzibar, trail our cloak along the African shore.” They muttered in agreement.

“You can be certain he has agents in every port in the Indian Ocean. They send him word of every prize that calls,” Daniel told them.

“At least, that’s what I would do, if I were a heathen pirate.”

“Yes.” Hal turned to him.

“We’ll call in at every port, let them know how rich we are, and how poorly armed.”

“Two fighting ships of thirty-six guns apiece?” Ned Tyler chuckled.

“That’s enough force to daunt any pirate.”

“One ship,” Hal said, and smiled when they looked askance.

“I will send the Yeoman on alone to Bombay ; soon as she arrives here. She can carry our passengers and all the urgent cargo of which we can rid ourselves and cram into her hold. We will sail the Fever Coast on our own.”

“The Seraph is still a ship of force,” All Wilson pointed out.

“Enough to frighten off most pirates.”

“She will not look like one by the time we are ready to sail.” Hal unrolled the drawings of the ship’s hull, on which he had been working since they had crossed the equator.

“A Trojan horse, gentlemen. That is what we shall prepare for Mr. Jangiri.” They crowded round the desk, voicing approval, making eager comment and suggestion as they began to see what Hal had in mind.

Try “What we want to make her into is a rich, fat, unarmed trader.

The gun ports first…” The next morning, Hal had himself rowed round the ship as she lay at anchor. Ned Tyler and the two ship’s carpenters were with him, and he pointed out to them the changes he wanted made to the Seraph’s appearance.

“We can leave all the carving and gold work as they are.” He pointed to the beautiful decorative features on the stern and bows.

“They give her a nice decadent air, like the Lord Mayor’s barge.”

“More like a French whorehouse.” Big Daniel sniffed.

“Besides which Lord Childs will be greatly put out if we damage his little masterpiece.” He pointed to the Seraph’s sides.

“It’s the gun ports that must be our prime concern.” The sills of the gun ports were picked out in gold leaf, which gave a pleasing cheque red effect to the hull but emphasized the Seraph’s warlike capability.

“You will begin work on them first,” Hal ordered the carpenters.

“I want the joints of the lids to the gun ports concealed. Caulk them with tar and repaint them so they blend into the timberwork of the hull.” For an hour longer they studied the ship from the longboat and decided on other small touches to the Seraph’s outline that would make her appear more innocuous.

As they rowed back to the ship, Hal remarked to Big Daniel, “One of the reasons I anchored so far offshore, apart from out-ranging the guns on the fort, was to keep out of sight of prying eyes on the beach.” He nodded at the bum-boats and other small craft still clustered around the ship.

“As soon as the work begins, I want you to warn off those boats. We must believe that Jangiri has agents in the settlement, and act on that belief. I don’t want beady eyes watching everything we do, and busy tongues passing on the news.” Once back in his cabin, Hal penned a letter to Mr. Beatty addressed to his lodgings in the town, explaining that he and his family would complete the voyage to Bombay in the Yeoman of York, when she arrived, and that Guy would accompany him. Hal was glad to arrange this by note, rather than having to persuade Mr. Beatty to make the change by discussion and argument.