‘He says, Captain, that with van Cleef removed from Dejima, Mr Fischer is now the Acting-Chief – meaning that the men on Dejima are duty-bound to carry out his instructions. To disobey his orders is a corporal offence.’
May his powers of persuasion, thinks the Captain, match his confidence. ‘Snitker shall receive a pilot’s fee for guiding us here and a gratis berth to Bengal, but in a hammock, not a cabin.’
Fischer’s nod agrees, That is quite sufficient, and issues a pronouncement.
‘He says,’ translates Hovell, ‘ “the Almighty forged this morning’s pact.” ’
The Prussian drinks from his tankard and finds it empty.
The Captain sends Chigwin a tiny shake of his head. ‘The Almighty,’ Penhaligon smiles, ‘and His Majesty’s Navy, for whom Envoy Fischer agrees to undertake the following…’ Penhaligon takes up the Memorandum of Understanding. ‘ “Article One: Envoy Fischer is to gain the acquiescence of Dejima’s men to British patronage.” ’
Hovell translates. Major Cutlip rolls a boiled egg on a saucer.
‘ “Article Two: Envoy Fischer is to broker negotiations with the Nagasaki Magistrate to secure a Treaty of Amity and Trade between the British Crown and the Shogun of Japan. Annual trading seasons are to commence from June of 1801.” ’
Hovell translates. Cutlip picks eggshell from the rubbery white.
‘ “Article Three: Envoy Fischer shall facilitate the transfer of all Dutch-owned copper to His Majesty’s Frigate Phoebus and a limited trading season in Private Goods between crew and officers and Japanese merchants.” ’
Hovell translates. Cutlip bites into the truffle-soft yolk.
‘ “As remuneration for these services, Envoy Fischer is to receive a one-tenth share of all profits from the British Dejima factory for the first three years of his office, which may be renewed in 1802 subject to the consent of both parties.” ’
As Hovell translates the final clause, Penhaligon signs the Memorandum.
The Captain then passes the quill to Peter Fischer. Fischer pauses.
He senses the gaze, the Captain guesses, of his future self, watching him.
‘You shall return to Brunswick,’ Wren assures him, ‘as rich as its duke.’
Hovell translates, Fischer smiles and signs, and Cutlip sprinkles a little salt on to the remains of his egg.
Today being Sunday, Church is rigged and eight bells summons the ship’s company. The officers and marines stand beneath an awning strung between the mizzen and mainmast. All the Phoebus’s Christian sailors are expected to toe the line in their best clothes: Hebrews, Mussulmans, Asiatics and other heathens are excused prayers and the hymn, but often they watch from the margins. Van Cleef is locked in the sailcloth store for fear of mischief, Daniel Snitker is with the lesser warrant officers and Peter Fischer stands between Captain Penhaligon – conscious that his walking-stick will already be the subject of speculation amongst the ratings – and Lieutenant Hovell, from whom the newly appointed envoy has borrowed a fresh cotton shirt. Chaplain Wily, a gnarled oboe of a Kentishman, reads from his battered Bible standing on a makeshift pulpit set before the wheel. He reads line by slow line, allowing the unschooled men time to chew and digest every verse, and giving the Captain’s thoughts some room to wander: ‘ “We being exceedingly tossed with a tempest…” ’
Penhaligon tests his right ankle: Nash’s potion is numbing the pain.
‘ “… the next day they lightened the ship; And the third day…” ’
The Captain spies the Japanese guard-boat, keeping its distance.
‘ “… we cast out with our own hands the tackling of the ship.” ’
The seamen grunt in surprise and pay the chaplain close attention.
‘ “And when neither sun nor stars in many days appeared…” ’
The common run of chaplains is either too meek for so unruly a flock…
‘ “… and no small tempest lay on us, all hope that we should be saved…” ’
… or else, so zealous that the sailors ignore, scorn or vilify them.
‘ “… was then taken away. But after long abstinence Paul stood forth…” ’
Chaplain Wily, an oysterman’s son from Whitstable, is a welcome exception.
‘ “… in the midst of them and said, Sirs, ye should have hearkened unto me…” ’
Hands who know the Mediterranean in winter mutter and nod.
‘ “… and not have loosed from Crete, and to have gained this harm and loss.” ’
Wily teaches the boys their three Rs and writes illiterate men’s letters.
‘ “And now I exhort you to be of good cheer: for there shall be no loss…” ’
The chaplain has a mercantile streak, too, and fifty bolts of Bengali chintz in the hold.
‘ “… of any man’s life among you but of the ship. For there stood by me this night…” ’
Best of all, Wily keeps his readings briny and his sermons pithy.
‘ “… the angel of God, whose I am,” ’ Wily looks up, ‘ “and whom I serve, Saying…” ’
Penhaligon lets his gaze wander up and down the lines of his Phoebusians.
‘ “Fear not, Paul; lo, God hath given them all them that sail with thee.” ’
There are fellow Cornishmen, Bristolians, Manxmen, Hebrideans…
‘ “About midnight the shipmen deemed that they drew near to some country…” ’
A quartet of Faroe Islanders; some Yankees from Connecticut.
‘ “… And sounded; and found it twenty fathoms: and when they had gone…” ’
Freed slaves from the Caribbean, a courteous Tartar, a Gibraltese Jew.
‘ “… a little further, they sounded again, and found it fifteen fathoms…” ’
Penhaligon considers how land naturally divides itself into nations.
‘ “… Then fearing lest we should have fallen upon rocks, they cast…” ’
He considers how the seas dissolve human boundaries.
‘ “… four anchors out of the stern, and wished for the day.” ’
He looks at the mestizos and doubloons: men fathered by Europeans…
‘ “And as the shipmen were about to flee out of the ship…” ’
… on native women: female slaves; girls sold by fathers for iron nails…
‘ “Paul said, Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved.” ’
Penhaligon locates Hartlepool the half-breed, and remembers his own youthful fornications, and wonders whether any resulted in a coffee-skinned or almond-eyed son who also obeyed the voice of the sea, who thinks the thoughts of the fatherless. The Captain remembers this morning’s dream, and he hopes so.
‘ “Then the soldiers cut off the ropes of the boat, and let her fall off.” ’
The men gasp at the recklessness. One exclaims, ‘Madness!’
‘Stops deserters,’ answers another, and Wren calls out: ‘Hear the Chaplain!’
But Wily closes his Bible. ‘Aye, with the tempest howling, with Death a near-certainty, Paul says, “Abandon ship and you’ll drown: stay aboard with me and you’ll survive.” Would you believe him? Would I?’ The chaplain shrugs and puffs. ‘This wasn’t Paul the Apostle speaking with a halo round his head. This was a prisoner in chains, a heretic from a backward ditch of Rome’s Empire. Yet he persuaded the guards to cut away the boats, and the Book of Acts tells that two hundred and seventy-six were saved by God’s mercy. Why did that raggle-taggle crew of Cypriots, Lebanese and Palestinians heed Paul? Was it his voice, or his face, or… something else? Ah, with that secret, I’d be Archbishop Wily by now! Instead, I’m stuck here, with you.’ Some of the men laugh. ‘I shan’t claim, men, that Faith always saves a man from drowning – enough devout Christians have died at sea to make a liar of me. But this I do swear: Faith shall save your Soul from Death. Without Faith, Death is a drowning, the end of ends, and what sane man wouldn’t fear that? But with Faith, Death is nothing worse than the end of this voyage we call life, and the beginning of an eternal voyage in a company of our Loved Ones, with griefs and woes smoothed out, and under the captaincy of our Creator…’