The Silk Weaver's Daughter (15 page)

“My, I didn’t realize what an important man you are.” She smiled flirtatiously.

“Well, not so important yet. Do you happen to remember my friend, Sir John Houblon? He’s also of Huguenot descent. You met him at the first dinner I had for your family, but I don’t suppose you remember much from that night. After I met you, I didn’t remember much either. You were all I could think of.”

He turned to face her. Smiling down at her, he took both her hands and held them in his as he continued. “In any case, he is an exceptionally clever businessman and the people in government in charge of this project rely a lot on him. It’s most likely they’ll name him governor of the bank when it’s established. He’s enlisted my help, so I’ll be busy in the next few years, but not too busy to spend time with my lovely, young wife.”

Again, he smiled his beautiful smile at her and hesitated for a moment, then added almost shyly, “Louise, can it be that you could learn to love me—to be genuinely happy here with me?

The question surprised her. She looked at the handsome man who was now, without a doubt her husband. For a few seconds, she thought of Marc. But she had forfeited him by her actions and he was lost to her forever. Even if, he came to London, they could only be friends. Deep in her heart, she sensed a tinge of regret. However, Paul was an outstanding man in so many ways; kind and considerate; strong and virile; and there was no doubting his feelings for her. He was a tender and passionate lover who would shower her with affection as long as he lived. In return, she would be the chatelaine of his magnificent house; give him the family he desired; and deeply respect and ultimately love him, as he so richly deserved

She looked up at him and then, laying her head against his chest, whispered, “Yes, Paul, I can love you. I can be genuinely happy here with you.”

Silently she vowed, and no matter what happens, I will always be faithful.

PART IV

Time and Unforeseen Occurrence

“I returned to see under the sun that the swift do not have the race, nor the mighty ones the battle, nor do the wise also have the food, nor do the understanding ones also
have the riches, nor do even those having
knowledge have the favor;
because time and unforeseen occurrence befall them all.”
King Solomon of Israel

Chapter 21

Pondicherry, India, April 1687

L
ife in Pondicherry with the French East India Company was much less glamorous than Marc had anticipated. For one thing, there was the heat—the constant, oppressive, overpowering heat. The Company had built a small fort and a Catholic church in Pondicherry, an insignificant weaving and fishing village in the southeast of the Indian sub-continent. Situated on the Bay of Bengali, fairly close to the equator, the climate was not only exceedingly hot, but also humid, particularly during the summer monsoons. That season fast approached, and Marc did not look forward to it at all.

However, it was not only the heat that got him down but also the smells—a blend of spices, sweat and unburied feces—that pervaded the entire area. There was no escaping them.

Most of the building the company was involved in, at the moment, entailed laying out the grid for the city they were planning, as well as the building of new French-style houses for the soldiers and workers already there. Currently, Indian-style bungalows built within the fort accommodated the more than two hundred members of the company. Marc, Jacques and their East Indian servant called a
nauker,
shared one of these long, low buildings.

There were already fruit and vegetable gardens in various stages of completion, and now, besides the houses, they were erecting bazaars. Eventually there would be a complete French town running north from the fort all along the ocean. The company planned to bring in the families of those men willing to remain in India. Marc assisted his father in drawing up the engineering plans and specifications for the design of the city, as well as the purchasing of the necessary items to build it. Dealing with the impassive Tamil officials was often time-consuming and frustrating.

The sandy beaches all along the Bay of Bengal were pleasant with cashew and palm trees and other lush vegetation growing near the fringes. Although the ocean was sometimes rough, Marc swam most every day. Aside from that, there wasn’t much to do for entertainment in his spare time except to visit the bazaars and watch the people. Many of the women looked quite fascinating in their graceful saris; but with his heart still yearning for Louise, they held no allure for him. In any case, the
commissaire
had forbidden all association with them.

He did think it a pity his Uncle Pierre could not visit the place and see the beautiful silks the locals made. The outfits created from these materials were strikingly vivid in shades of scarlet, royal blue, and turquoise even Lyon’s French dyers had not yet been able to create.

He and his father had been in Pondicherry working in the office of Francois Martin, the French Commissaire, for not quite a year when a British trading vessel,
The Malabar Merchant,
not long out of Madras and bound for Amoy, China, stopped in for repairs and fresh water.

Although there wasn’t much love lost between France and England, Monsieur Martin invited the ship’s officers to an official dinner. Jacques and Marc were summoned, as well. During the evening, Jacques had a long conversation with the ship’s master, Captain Arthur Sharp—a large, wind-burnt man with bushy, red hair and an equally bushy, red beard.

It was after midnight by the time they returned to their bungalow. Nevertheless, Jacques brought up the subject of his conversation with the captain. “Marc, you know my contract here in Pondicherry is for another twelve months, and you have signed on as my aide for that long. But are you genuinely happy here with all this clerical work?”

Marc started to yawn but said, “Why,
mon pere, y
ou think I’m not pulling my weight? I’m not competent?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. However, I find you are more and more morose and not the lively companion you were on board our ship. I have an idea if you would like to listen to me.”

Marc grinned sleepily. “Your ideas are always interesting,
mon pere.”

“I spoke to Master Sharp at the dinner. He’s quite concerned he has no one aboard who speaks tolerable Portuguese. That’s the language the Chinese have managed to learn best, and it’s important the captain has someone who can translate for him.”

“Is that a fact?” Alert now, to what his father was saying, he listened carefully.

“I told him, you were fluent in the language,” Jacques continued, “and he’s interested in signing you on with them for this trip. The fact you intend to make your home in England helps, I think. I explained to him about the Huguenot situation in France, and that you don’t want to convert.”

“Me—go to China and leave you here? How would you manage?”

“There’s not enough work to keep both of us busy. Seriously, Marc, on the voyage over I came to realize how much you do love Louise. If you’re planning to marry her, you’ll have to live and work out of England. Pierre will never allow her to go back to France. If you do well with Master Sharp, it’s quite likely he could get you a position with the British East India Company when you get back to London.”

Marc sighed. “There’s nothing I want more than to marry her as soon as possible. And I must admit I’ve been worrying about how I could support a wife in England.”

“There’s the gold account I have with Paul Thibault in London. Of course, a lot has gone to pay Pierre for the farm. But there’s still enough to buy a house, I think, and there’s also the warehouse. My suggestion is that you take the monies from the sale of our cognac here, and go on this British ship to Amoy. You’ll have to change it to silver, though, as Master Sharp tells me, that’s all the Chinese will take.”

Marc was fully awake now. “Why is that then?” he asked.

“I don’t know. For some reason, they aren’t interested in gold. However, that’s not important. What’s interesting is that the English have begun to see the value of tea, and they need merchants in that trade. By going to China, you could learn a great deal about it. And if you purchase a consignment, and ship it back to the warehouse in London, it will give you a good start there.”

“You think Captain Sharp would let me do that?”

“Given your fluency in Portuguese, as well as English, I think he would allow you almost anything you want. If needs be, tell him that’s the only pay you require. He’s going to call on us in the morning, and I’m positive he will ask you to join the crew.”

He was right. The English captain showed a definite interest in acquiring Marc’s services; and, by the end of April,
The Malabar Merchant
sailed from Pondicherry, with him officially on the payroll as the ship’s interpreter.

Sailing southeast across the Bay of Bengal away from India, the prevailing winds were not always with them; and when they dropped, a feeling of lassitude hung over the entire ship. Often the skies were leaden, but it brought no relief from the heat and humidity. Even some weeks later, as they made their way north through the hazy South China Sea, the days seemed heavy and long. Soon the monsoons would come and bring torrential rains and a slight relief from the heat. Then the sea could turn fierce and agitated. Marc had heard of the cyclones that spawned in the hot waters of the tropics and prayed they’d be safely moored, far to the north of the equator in the port of Amoy, when that took place.

It was the end of June, with the ship still bearing in a northerly direction through the China Sea, that the lookout caught a glimpse of the mainland. Marc went looking for the master and found him in his quarters studying a large map. The two men had spent many evenings together over a glass of Cognac or brandywine as the English called it. They were now firm friends.

“We’re nearly there, are we sir?” he asked Captain Sharp.

“Yes, we are, Marc,” the captain said, handing him a glass full of the amber liquor. “Have a seat, my boy. I’ve been thinking. It’s time I was considerably more honest with you about what I have in mind for this little venture.”

“You mean with the translating, don’t you?” he asked, taking one of the comfortable chairs. “I’m quite prepared for that.”

“That’s your main duty, of course. However, I have to confess there’s more to it than I originally told you. It’s true my instructions are to go to Amoy with this load of metal and pick up tea there.”

Marc smiled to himself as Captain Arthur tugged at his red beard as he often did when perturbed; a habit the younger man had noted.

“Actually the best place for tea is Canton,” the captain continued. “However, English ships haven’t exactly been welcome in that port since there was a disastrous skirmish about fifty years ago. Shots fired from a British ship killed some customs officials.”

“Good lord. Is that right? My knowledge of China is quite lacking, I’m afraid. I’ve some idea of where Amoy is, but I know nothing about Canton. But what would all this have to do with me?”

Captain Sharp moved back to the map he had pinned to the wall of the cabin. He pointed to a small island up the coast near the mainland.

“This island is Taiwan and the dot right across from it is the city of Amoy. A few customs people there speak some English. They don’t particularly love us either, but they’ll be happy to have this metal; and I’ll be able to exchange it for a load of tea. As I said, that’s the official plan. The thing is, Marc, I’m actually here on a mission only a few of the company governors know anything about.”

“A secret mission?” Marc began to feel mystified.

“Yes, and that’s where you come in. Before I go on to Amoy, the company wants me to see if there’s any hope at all for us to do business in Canton again. And that’s here, ninety miles up the Pearl River.” He pointed to a spot on the map west of Macau.

“We don’t think there’s anyone there now who speaks English. I don’t know how those fellows back home thought I would manage it; but then you came on the scene, and that was a fantastic break for me. I needed someone who at least speaks Portuguese to find out where we stand with the Cantonese officials and see what the possibilities are. You, my friend, fit the bill perfectly.

“Because I speak the language?”

“That, and the fact you are not English, and you really do want to buy tea. Even if they won’t sell to the British East India Company, they might be willing to do so to a Frenchman. I want you to try to buy a full load of tea in your name. While you’re doing business with them, I can get a sense of how they feel about the company now. If you manage it, twenty-five percent of the cargo will be for you. You won’t have to pay a cent of your own money.”

“My word. That’s quite a bounty, and it doesn’t seem too difficult a job. It would certainly take care of what I need.”

The captain paused for a moment, again fingering his beard before he answered. “Well, I should warn you. There’s always the chance, as soon as they see the English flag, they’ll start shooting at us. They could possibly blow the ship up. It’s the Chinese that invented gun power, you know. So, it’s not quite as simple as just sailing in there. I’m going to have to make an alternate plan.”

“I see. You’re thinking of some sort of a reconnoitre strategy then?”

“Exactly. There’s the definite possibility of danger. At least you know now what you’re up against. If you’re still willing to do it, we’ll seal it with another shot of brandy. A drink to friendship and success. Agreed, my boy?”

“Agreed, Sir. I’m always ready for adventure. It’s what I do best,” Marc replied with a laugh.

As Marc held out his glass, the captain bestowed a friendly slap on his back and proceeded to fill it to the top again with the aromatic liquid.