catch the useful southward current, and entered a different, more airy kind of tropical regime. The sailing master had not passed this way since his youth, but his memory was sure, and they sailed on confidently past Malacca.
At almost the line of the equator they approached the southern tip of Malaya.
Over the still water came the clatter of wings as a covey of parrots rose into the air, their squawks ignored by the troop of monkeys swinging through the dense foliage underneath.
'Enchanting!' said Lady Elmhurst. 'I say, Mr Prewse,' she said to the Master, 'have we time do you think to take a small picnic on the land over there?'
'My lady, I don' think it so advisable, if you takes me meaning,' Prewse said, removing his old tricorne to mop his forehead.
'No, I do not at all take your meaning,' Lady Elmhurst snapped. Her fan increased its tempo as she turned to Powlett. 'Captain Powlett, surely an hour or two on the land will not discommode you — we have after all been cooped up in this little ship for weeks now.'
Powlett removed his cocked hat with a pleasant smile, but thwacked it at his side. 'Mr Prewse, do you think it advisable for the ladies to step ashore in this
Prewse rubbed his chin. 'It's a lovely part o' the world, that I'll grant, but there's a mort o' bother ashore. First, we have the tigers.'
'The tigers? This seems—'
'The tigers, milady. Over there they runs free, an' you can't see 'em in these woods until theys on you, all roarin' and big teeth. Then there's y'r snakes.' He paused — the fan stopped. 'Biggest in th' whole world, they is here, long as y'r main yard,' he said quietly, pointing out the largest spar in the ship. 'Hides near a brook, hangin' down from the tree quiet like. Eats a whole goat at one gulp when it comes down t' drink.'
He scratched his head. 'Then you've got y'r Dyaks. Bad joss, is they. Nasty cannibals they are, saves the head f'r to decorate their homes, but eats the rest on a slow fire. Comes down the coast fast in their three-piece canoes, on y' quick, 'cos you can't see 'em in this. S'pose I could land a party of marines, armed seamen, with ye. You'd have a good chance then—'
'Thank you, there will be no need. I now recollect that my husband has impressed upon me the need for despatch. We need to press on, I believe.'
Once around the peninsula they were in the South China Sea. Imperceptibly, the seascape changed. The glaring equatorial seas gave way to a hard cobalt blue, and then by degrees, as they progressed northward against the winter monsoon, to a particular shade of jade-green.
The fishing boats they encountered as they tacked towards the China coast were of an unknown appearance. Their keel-less hull form, more like a banana than a sea-boat, had a baleful multi-coloured eye painted on the bow. Kydd's seaman's eye, however, saw that the violent bobbing and rolling was an effective method of keeping the craft dry. There was not an inch of water shipped, despite the considerable seas, and the tiny fisher-children were entirely at home in the tumultuous motion. Closer to the mountainous grey-green seaboard there were more of the strange three-masted craft, their ribbed sails distinctive against the coastline.
The winter monsoon was cold off the sea, and had the seamen rummaging in their chests for Channel warmers.
'What does it all mean, Nicholas?' Kydd asked over his grog, pointing at Renzi's book. There was a real need for rum to warm the cockles, the streaming north-westerly monsoon being so stern. He had seen hardly anything of his friend since Calcutta: Renzi's interest in the Orient was insatiable and he had spent every spare minute with his volumes and in discussion with the savants.
'To understand this, my friend, you must know that the Chinese have now the most mighty civilisation on this earth.'
Kydd opened his eyes wide. Others were not so sure, and looks were exchanged. 'You're saying as . . .'
'Yes. They can trace their history in a straight line from before the ancients of our race right up to the present Emperor, Chien Lung. You may believe that in that time they have learnt something of the arts of civilisation. And its size! A hundred or more times ours, stretches from the frozen north to the tropics, and from the Pacific half across all Asia. It's amazing! The people - why, there are so many that it is thought that one out of every three or four souls on earth is Chinese.'
The mess members paused in their meal to stare at him blankly or with troubled expressions. This was not a subject that was often brought up at mess-table in a man-o'-war.
'Then tell me this, mate,' said Cundall, waving his grog can in Renzi's face, 'why ain't they conquer'd the world, then, if it's like you said?'
Renzi recoiled from the can with faint distaste. 'I said a mighty civilisation, and that is what it is. Their government under the Celestial Emperor is a just one, for it requires every officer to compete for his post by written examination — every one, from beadle and magistrate to general and governor. This makes certain that only the very best can reach the high offices of the land, and true and just governance is the sure result.'
'Cundall has a point,' Kydd pressed.
'Therefore they have disdain for lesser attempts at civilised conduct, and have withdrawn from the world. They have no need for its paltry achievements, and so they keep the world at a distance - and that is why we are quarantined in Canton, to keep their civilisation pure.'
The table broke into indignant rumbling.
Kydd snorted. 'Be damn'd to the scrovy crew! They got no right—'
'They have every right! It's beholden on us to step quietly in their land — if nothing else, I would not like to be the one to tread on the Dragon's tail.'
'Sounds jus' like you're one o' their yeller stripe, Mr Chinaman,' Cundall spat, the grog thickening his voice.
