explained, ‘Commodore Watson has told us to be prepared to sail no later than tomorrow morning for Madagascar. We will be given further instructions there.’
Jingee stood little more than five feet tall. His eyes were brown and shaped like almonds. His skin was a mellow umber, his complexion showing only a trace of a beard. In a voice which was thin but not effeminate, he said, ‘I am honoured to sail with you again, Captain sahib, wherever you lead us. I took an oath of allegiance to the Honourable East India Company and I have been waiting patiently to be called back into service. But it is to you, Captain sahib, that I am bonded. You took me from prison. You gave me a chance to prove I was no criminal but—’ he held his small head high, ‘—a man of decency and honour.’
Over the past six months, Horne had tried to meet the seven men from his squadron on a regular basis. But it was difficult keeping track of their day-to-day whereabouts, and he asked, ‘Jingee, can you help me find the others by this evening?’
‘We can find them this afternoon, Captain sahib.’
‘Where should we start?’
‘Kiro and Jud live beyond the Spice Market where you last saw them. Bapu still works in the Street of the Lanterns. He will be able to tell us where to find Babcock, Groot, and Mustafa. They move around like nomads in the desert.’
‘Let’s hope they don’t move straight into the path of the press gang.’
Jingee’s eyes widened. ‘Yes, Captain sahib. My cousins told me about the press gang visiting the cattle yards. They are not starting in the waterfront as usual this trip. They are getting smarter.’ Jingee tapped the side of his turban.
‘That’s why we must hurry, Jingee.’
‘My cousins are not at home, Captain sahib. But they would be most displeased if I did not offer you hospitality before we left their house.’
‘Thank you, Jingee. But I’m certain your cousins would understand why we must not waste time sitting here drinking tea.’
Jingee bowed. ‘As you wish, Captain sahib.’
Horne glanced at the latticed arches behind Jingee. ‘As soon as you’re ready, we can leave.’
‘But I am ready, Captain sahib! I have no uniform. No weapon. What else do I need? Nothing! I have already bidden my cousins goodbye this morning. As I said, Captain sahib, I was expecting you. In fact, you are a little late.’
Jingee was one of Horne’s most organised, most resourceful men. Accomplished as a cook, tailor, translator and guide, he was also surprisingly strong for his slight build, and masterful with a knife. Horne was glad to have the service again of the young Tamil’s many diverse talents.
* * *
Jingee hurried to keep pace with Horne’s brisk stride, explaining, as they passed through a narrow street lined with wooden tenements, that the last time he had seenKiro and Jud was three days ago. Kiro was teaching the sons of rich families to duel like the ancient Samurai warriors of Japan, while Jud had found a job guarding treasures at a Hindu holy place, the Red Temple.
Emerging in a square where women in brightly dyed saris were gathered around a stone well, Jingee pointed to a narrow street which they must follow to find Kiro. Halfway across the square two dhooli-bearers rushed towards Horne, tugging at his coat sleeve and insisting that he ride on their palanquin, but Jingee waved his hand, scolding them in shrill Hindi as he led Horne to the far side of the square.
Dried palm fronds covered the street which climbed a low hill, the midday sun filtering through the loosely woven ceiling, giving a rich light to tradesmen standing or sitting cross-legged behind carpets spread on the ground.
This was the Spice Market, and a collection of seeds, pods, roots and fine powders were arranged in small piles or short rows in front of each pedlar, making the street aromatic with the pungent odours of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, turmeric and saffron.
As Horne and Jingee went further into the