Monsoon Mists Read Free Page A

sigh of relief. Thank goodness for that. Now perhaps she’d be left alone until the next new arrivals.

Chapter Two
    Madras, India – May 1759
    The so called ‘Black Town’ of Madras was an area to the north of the English Fort St George, laid out in a neat grid pattern of streets. As Jamie entered it late one afternoon, a fresh sea breeze made the air temperature bearable and went some way towards diminishing the usual city odours. He glimpsed the waters of the Bay of Bengal in the distance to his right, glittering invitingly. Although he didn’t notice the heat as much as he once had, having been in this part of the world for so many years now, the thought of a swim was still tempting. The fact that he was wearing native clothing kept him relatively cool though. He’d adopted the Mohammedan style – loose fitting trousers, a shirt with long narrow sleeves and a long coat, all made of fine white cotton. A turban protected his head from the sun’s rays, and the simple Hindu shoes that looked like slippers on his bare feet helped too.
    He headed for the northern half of the town where Indian merchants and craftsmen had their newly built houses. Earlier in the year, during January and February, the French had besieged Madras. Their artillery fire had gutted most of the houses, especially in the Black Town, but buildings were springing up everywhere now the French were routed. It was with some satisfaction that Jamie recalled what he’d heard recently – the English troops were on the offensive, winning victories everywhere.
    ‘And good riddance, messieurs ,’ he muttered. Not that he had anything against the French personally, but their infernal warmongering here hindered his trading activities. He’d be glad if they were evicted from the sub-continent for good or a peace of some sort could be agreed.
    Passing whitewashed houses, some in a better state than others, he reached the one he was looking for. Its walls hadn’t been affected much by the recent fighting, although he noticed they were freshly painted, but the roof looked new in the fading light. Jamie frowned as he stopped in front of the closed door and listened. He’d expected it to be open, with the usual early evening activity, but no sounds emanated from inside the building. It seemed empty and lifeless.
    He rapped on the door, his knuckles making a sound like a pistol shot. ‘Hello? Anyone there? Open up.’
    Nothing. No footsteps, no voices, not a sound from within.
    Jamie took a step back, puzzled, then went over to the house next door. An old man sat on the ground outside, cross-legged. When asked about his neighbour, however, he shook his head and without meeting Jamie’s gaze muttered, ‘Gone.’
    ‘What do you mean, gone? Where exactly? And why? Has he been arrested? Or do you mean there’s illness about?’
    ‘Don’t know. Just left. All of them, whole family.’ The old man still wouldn’t look at Jamie, which made the latter suspicious.
    ‘There must have been some reason.’ But he could tell he wouldn’t learn what it was from this man.
    He went back to stand outside his friend’s front door. Akash was a lapidary and gem trader who had, rather reluctantly at first, taken Jamie on as an apprentice four years before. He’d stared at Jamie in disbelief when he arrived unannounced and asked to learn all about gemstones, but Jamie had stood his ground.
    ‘I’ve been told you speak some English and that you’re the best diamond cutter in town. I want to learn. Please, will you teach me? I’ll make it worth your while.’
    ‘Why?’ The one word and black gaze had told Jamie that Akash thought it the whim of a bored and spoiled rich man, which was partly true. But Jamie had other reasons for wanting to immerse himself in the world of precious stones. He needed to forget his old life, his former self, and fill his mind with new images and knowledge.
    To Akash he said only, ‘I can’t become a successful trader unless I know all