Norton, Andre - Novel 23 (5 page)

 
          
 
Afterward, Saranna thought that the cottony
fog into which Gerrad Fowke's river sloop plunged had been, in a way, a warning
of the murky paths which lay before her. The thick tendrils gathering about the
small boat were like a spider's web meant to entangle them past escape. And
with the coming of that fog, the warmth of the spring vanished. The day was
darkly chill. Moisture beaded the deck planking and the rail against which she
stood, dampened her shawl,
made
her bonnet veil hang
limp and heavy. Yet she shrank from going into the cramped cabin below.

 
          
 
The deck, save for a very small portion
through which the crew moved, was piled high with stacks of lumber, barrels and
boxes, as was the hold, so that the sloop rode low in the river. Since the
sails could not be used, the
crew were
out with
sweeps, three men to a side, walking back and forth to give them a very slow
headway.
While Mr. Fowke himself took the wheel post.

 
          
 
Millie, her eyes swollen from crying, huddled
on one side of the boxes, a small figure of misery. The maid had shown such
fear ever since Honora had decreed that she accompany Saranna to Tiensin that
Saranna had not been able to get anything coherent out of her. Now Millie
appeared as if facing a doom from which she had no hope of escape, displaying
no interest in her surroundings.

           
 
For all Sararma's relief at escape from the
house over which Honora had full command, her own uneasiness grew. And the
heaviness of this fog did not dispel any forebodings. Though Mr. Fowke showed
no signs of being aware that anything out of the ordinary was happening, his
complete air of self-confidence and self-assurance drew her now to edging past
the deck cargo and approaching his place of command.

 
          
 
The blacks at the sweeps chanted in rhythm
with their swings of the sweeps. She could not understand a word and there was
a strange, eerie note to that song (if song it was) which disturbed her so much
she wanted to cover her ears with her hands. When she peered into the heavy
mists, she could imagine that something or some things lurked within its folds,
ever watching them evilly—

 
          
 
Saranna forced a rein on her imagination. Of
course, there was nothing there! And Mr. Fowke knew this waterway as well as
she knew the lanes of
Sussex
. Unlike its neighbor Virginia, since the
earliest days of settlement,
Maryland
had used as roads those rivers which cut
and sliced into its lands. The manors had their own wharves and landings, their
own sloops. Neighbor visited neighbor via the water, and it was only since the
beginning of this century that roads had come to link town and city. Still, the
many rivers remained the easiest transportation by which to reach most of the
manors.

 
          
 
'This will delay us," Gerrad Fowke's
voice broke through the monotonous song of the scullers. "Unless it lifts,
you may not reach Tiensin, Miss Stowell, until well past moon rise. I am sorry
your introduction to the river had to be so unpromising a one."

 
          
 
"That you can move at all through
this," she ventured in return, "is surprising. What if another boat
comes—?"

 
          
 
He laughed. "We'd hear and so would they.
We don't need fog warnings with Jason leading the chant." He nodded to the
powerful man at the nearest scull.

 
          
 
"I can't understand what they are
saying—or singing— “

 
          
 
Mr. Fowke shrugged. "Probably it's some
juju petition to the dark powers. They have their own way of thinking and
believing."

 
          
 
Saranna glanced at the sodden lump of misery
which marked Millie. Even in the short distance between them now the black girl
was half-hidden by the mists.

 
          
 
"Millie—she's badly frightened. She did
not want to come. She claims there is a haunt at Tiensin—"

 
          
 
He no longer looked amused. There was a
firmness about his mouth which reminded Saramia that he had captained ships
much larger than this sloop, and that air of command he wore was his by right
of experience.

 
          
 
"They are superstitious, and they cling
to old gods. What else have they to give them hope?" That was not quite a
question, but he turned a sudden searching gaze at her. “They are slaves in a
strange land; much has frightened and left them defenseless. So they have
perhaps a right to see menace in shadows, enemies all around them."

 
          
 
"You do not believe in slavery—"
Saranna glanced from him to the men straining at the sculls. She had thought
that he would accept the customs of his homeland without question. Men usually
did.

 
          
 
"I have no slaves," he replied
flatly. "Queen's Pleasure has its people, these men among them. None of
them are slaves. You will discover that that makes me somewhat of a misfit
here." Again that expression of assurance firmed his harsh features.
"Luckily I am also successful in my undertakings. And since I have come
back home with my pockets well lined, I have a measure of acceptance—"

 
          
 
Now he did smile again. "Gold is a mighty
way to back one's opinions, even if they are unpopular ones. And I am not the
first to cause talk. Captain Whaley did not own slaves either, at least not
until his latter days. He had real heathens —Chinese!”

 
          
 
"Chinese?" Saranna remembered some
of Mr. Sanders’ explanation of what might lie before her.

 
          
 
"Yes. He was long in
Canton
, you know, being one of the first to carry
our flag to the
East
Indies
. And he
settled in his own factory there, had an excellent relationship with one of the
Hong merchants. For about fifteen years he was the representative for several
American companies. When he came home to
Baltimore
, he was accompanied by quite an entourage.
All Chinese.

 
          
 
"They helped rebuild part of Tiensin, and
lay out the gardens. But after ten years, he bought passage for them and sent
them all home again in style. But then Whaley was considered distinctly
eccentric. There was the matter of the foxes, too—"

 
          
 
"Foxes?" repeated Saranna,
completely bewildered by the introduction of this new subject.

 
          
 
Once more Mr. Fowke laughed. "Now I have
surprised you. But the subject is somewhat of a serious matter all the same,
and it adds to the queer stories surrounding Tiensin.

 
          
 
You see, some of our back-country squires have
delusions of introducing what they consider to be the customs of English
aristocracy. Just as their grandfathers fought to break ties with the old
country, so do they now think of aping some of the amusements from
overseas.
In short, they have a hunt, their blooded horses,
all
the rest.

 
          
 
"But not over Tiensin land! There is a
strict rule there, no fox is to be hunted, shot at,
trapped
,
not at Tiensin. Captain Whaley was determined about that, and he made enemies
over his orders. At his death, half the parish was not speaking to him, not
that he cared."

 
          
 
"But why foxes?"
Saranna had forgotten the fog now. He had captured her full attention with his
story.

 
          
 
"The odd part about it is that no one
knows. But so adamant was his decree that he even left a solemn warning in his
will that if his orders were broken in the future, there would be a penalty
paid by his heirs for that mistake. And foxes do flourish at Tiensin. Ther are
tales of exceptionally large ones walking boldly in the garden, even during
broad daylight. The blacks call them haunts and are afraid of them. They will
give way as if the foxes were their masters. But there are other things which
set Tiensin apart—" he continued as if he wished her to know what might
lie ahead and had a concern that she understand.

 
          
 
“There is the lost garden—“

 
          
 
He was watching her closely, Saranna did not
understand why. Did he expect her to show some signs of dislike or fear such as
Millie displayed since the news of her exile from
Baltimore
had been broken to her? Was he—could he— be
telling some old tale partly born of his own imagination to see if she were one
of those easily alarmed females who saw only dark menace in the unknown? If he
was, the disappointment would be his. Captain Whaley's attitude toward foxes
might be termed peculiar, to be sure, but Saranna could see little alarming in
it. And a lost garden—if Mr. Fowke were in some manner baiting her, she was not
in any way going to rise to the bait, even by asking a question.

 
          
 
After a very short pause, he continued.
"There is what must be a goodly third of the land first set out for a
garden cut away now and well walled off by the hedges which have been allowed,
even encouraged, to grow as high as possible. The common notion is that there
is no way in—and the ignorant say that it is to protect the captain's
treasure."

 
          
 
Now Saranna smiled. Did he expect her to be
moved by that most childish of hints? "There is a treasure, of
course?" she asked a little mockingly.

 
          
 
"Oh, the Captain had treasures all
right." Mr. Fowke nodded. "You will see those in plenty at Tiensin.
He had a love for
China
which few of those in the
Canton
factories ever possessed. Most merchants
were content—are content— with their exports to build up their fortunes. But he
loved beauty—precious things—not for their value in dollars and cents—but for
the pleasure they give the eye. During the years Whaley spent in those waters,
he bought many such.
Perhaps some not legally.
There
are coast pirates which prey upon sections of
China
where the 'foreign devils,' as they so
pleasantly term us, cannot ever hope to visit. The loot from those forays comes
in time to markets where a canny man may have an agent bargain for him.

 
          
 
"There are rebellions which even the
Banner Princes, those who are near the Dragon Throne, lose. And the price for
rebellion in
China
is grim. Not only does the rebel suffer, but his whole family clan can
be sent to follow him into death. Then their possessions are plundered, so bits
and pieces find their ways into strange hands.

 
          
 
"Look well about you in the rooms of
Tiensin, Miss Stowell. What you will see there is not the ordinary gleanings of
an
India
merchant—but objects of far greater value. However, as to any great
treasure
laid
up in any special place—no, I do not
believe that Whaley left that. What may lie behind the growing walls of that
garden no one really
knows.
Just that it is strictly
forbidden territory to all. And the blacks fear it even more than they fear
those bold foxes. They say it contains a ghost whom the Captain brought home
with him—a very potent and heathen ghost."

 
          
 
Again Saranna smiled. She was sure that Mr.
Fowke was trying to tease her a little.

 
          
 
"A Bluebeard's garden
then.
But since I am not wedding Bluebeard, I do not think I have
anything to fear. And if there are rules at Tiensin, I am fully prepared to
keep them."