Arent shifted sheepishly. ‘I’m not certain I can do any of those things Sammy. Maybe we can find –’
‘Three years ago, you asked me to teach you my art and I made you my apprentice,’ said Sammy, irritated by his reticence. ‘I believe it’s time you acted as such.’
Old arguments rose up between them like noxious bubbles in a swamp.
‘We gave up on that,’ said Arent heatedly. ‘We already know I can’t do what you do.’
‘What occurred in Lille wasn’t a failing of intellect, Arent. It was a failure of temperament. Your strength has made you impatient.’
‘I didn’t fail because of my strength.’
‘That was one case, and I understand that it dented your confidence –’
‘An innocent man nearly died.’
‘Innocent men do that,’ said Sammy, with finality. ‘How many languages can you speak? How easily did you collect them? I’ve watched you these last years. I know how much you observe. How much you retain. What was Sara Wessel wearing at our meeting this morning? Boots to hat, tell me.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Of course you do,’ he said, laughing at Arent’s instinctive lie. ‘You’re a stubborn man. I could ask you how many legs a horse has and you’d deny having ever seen one. All that information, what do you do with it?’
‘I keep you alive.’
‘And there you are again, leaning on your strength when it’s your mind we need.’ He lifted his heavy chains. ‘My resources are limited, Arent, and until I’m free to pursue my own enquiries, I’m expecting you to protect the ship.’ Their boat bumped into the hull of the Saardam as the ferryman brought them alongside. ‘I’ll not have some bastard drown me before the governor general hangs me.’
5
Ferries swarmed the Saardam, crossing the water in a long chain, like ants attacking a dead ox. Each one teemed with passengers clutching the single bag they were allowed to bring. Hollering for the rope ladders to be thrown down, they found themselves mocked by the sailors high above, who made great show of being unable to find the ladders, or of simply not hearing the requests.
They were forgiven their sport by the Saardam’s officers, who were waiting for Governor General Haan and his family to finish boarding at the aft of the ship. No other passengers would be allowed up until they were comfortably housed.
A plank attached to four pieces of rope was currently hoisting Lia serenely upwards, with Sara watching below, hands clasped, terrified that her daughter might spill, or the rope would snap.
Her husband had already ascended, and she would follow last.
In boarding, as all other things, etiquette demanded she be the least important thing in her own life.
When her time came, Sara sat on the plank and gripped the rope, laughing in delight as she was raised into the air, the wind plucking at her clothes.
The sensation was thrilling.
Kicking her legs, she stared across the water at Batavia.
For the last thirteen years, she’d watched from the fort as the city spread like melting butter around her. From that vantage, it had felt huge. A prison of alleys and shops, markets and battlements.
But, at this distance, it seemed a lonely thing: its streets and canals clinging tight to one other, its back to the coast, as if afraid of the encroaching jungle. Clouds of peat smoke hung above the rooftops; brightly coloured birds circled overheard, waiting to descend on the scraps of food left behind by the market traders, who’d soon be packing up for the day.
With a pang, Sara realised how much she was going to miss this place. Every morning Batavia screamed itself awake, the trees shaking as thousands of parrots came screeching out of their branches, filling the air with colour. She loved that chorus, as she loved the strange, lyrical language of the natives and the huge spicy pots of stew they cooked on the street of an evening.
Batavia was where her daughter had been born and where her two sons had died. It was where she had become the woman she now was, for better and for worse.
The seat delivered Sara to the quarterdeck, which lay under the shadow of the towering mainmast. Sailors were climbing the rigging like spiders, tugging ropes and tightening knots, while carpenters planed warped planks and cabin boys threaded caulk and slopped tar, trying to keep from a scolding.
Sara found her daughter at the railing overlooking the rest of the ship.
‘It’s remarkable, isn’t it?’ said Lia in admiration. ‘But there’s so much unnecessary effort.’ She pointed to a group of grunting sailors lowering cargo through a hatch into the hold, as if the Saardam were a beast that needed feeding before the voyage could begin. ‘A better pulley and joist and they’d need half the labour. I could design one, if they’d –’
‘They won’t, they never will,’ interrupted Sara. ‘Keep that cleverness in your pocket, Lia. We’re surrounded by men who won’t take kindly to it, however well intentioned.’
Lia bit her lip sulkily, staring at the unsatisfactory pulley. ‘It’s such a small thing. Why can’t I –’
‘Because men don’t like being made to feel stupid, and there’s no other way to feel when you start talking.’ Sara stroked her daughter’s face, wishing she could ease the confusion she saw there. ‘Cleverness is a type of strength, and they won’t accept a woman who’s stronger than they are. Their pride won’t allow it, and their pride is the thing they hold dearest.’ She shook her head, unable to find the right words. ‘It’s not something to be understood. It’s just the way it is. You were sheltered in the fort, surrounded by people who loved you and feared your father, but there’s no such protection on the Saardam. This is a dangerous place. Now heed me and think before you speak.’
‘Yes, Mama,’ said Lia.
Sara sighed and pulled her close, her heart aching. No mother wanted to tell their child to be less than they were, but what use was it encouraging a child into a thorn bush. ‘It won’t be like this for very much longer, I promise. Soon we’ll be safe, and we’ll live our lives as we wish.’
‘My wife!’ hollered the governor general from the opposite side of the deck. ‘There’s somebody I wish you to meet.’
‘Come,’ she said, linking her arm through Lia’s.
Her husband was talking to a fleshy, sweating man with a face overrun by veins. His eyes were bloodshot and watering. Evidently he’d risen late and attended his toilet carelessly. Though dressed to the fashion, his ribbons were dishevelled and his cotton shirt only tucked into one side of his belt. He was unpowdered and unperfumed, and in dire need of both.
‘This is Chief Merchant Reynier van Schooten, the master of our voyage,’ said the governor general.
Dislike squirmed beneath his words.
Van Schooten’s glance put Sara on a scale, weighing and evaluating, pinning a price to her ear.
‘I thought the captain was in charge of our ship,’ said Lia.
Van Schooten stuffed his thumbs in his belt and puffed out a perfectly round belly, summoning whatever dregs of pride were left to him. ‘Not on a merchant vessel, my lady,’ he explained. ‘Our captain’s role is merely to ensure our ship arrives safely in Amsterdam. I’m responsible for all other matters.’