"Perhaps. But anyway, you have only to look at Chinese art—very seldom will you see a nude female portrayed. Unlike us Italians. Have you ever been to the Vatican, child? No? Well, I can tell you the walls are virtually covered with nude bodies gamboling about ... and that is a church, not a brothel, no matter what you heretics might say or think. Ah, here is Chi-chi. I believe we are being called."
Cheng Shih sits on an ornately decorated cushion, and I lie next to her with my head in her lap. We have already eaten of the rice, meat, and vegetables—all of it wondrous good—but she enjoys putting sweetmeats to my lips and giving me little sips of plum wine from her glass. I do not find it at all unpleasant—hey, I could be in a tub of boiling oil instead of lying here, dressed in fine silk, and being fed treats from the hand of a beautiful Chinese woman. Yes, my head could be resting on a chopping block instead of reclining here on her lap, jasmine perfume swirling all about us, and her fingers—her very knowing fingers—gently tracing the lines of my face. No ... I ain't complaining.
Presently, Cheng Shih places a kiss on my smooth brow and murmurs something to Brother Arcangelo.
"She says it is time for you to do the portrait of yourself. She wants to see how you go about it. Observe your technique, as it were," he says, motioning for me to get up. I suppress a groan of pure laziness—yes, I quickly grow very used to luxury—and rise.
The colors, brushes, and papers have been laid out on a small table in front of a mirror. There is a chair and I place my silk-covered bottom in it. I regard my image in the glass. Oh, Jaimy, if you could only see your girl now. Then I set to work.
First I lay in the basic shape of my head with light pinkish-brown, and then put in the background colors—reds and yellows from the drapes hanging behind me. Then I put in some of the darker planes of my face, neck, and hair. The shadows in my eye sockets, alongside my nose, under my chin and lower lip. I think she is rather amazed at the speed with which I work—hey, spend a lot of time painting portraits of squirming children and you learn to be real fast.
At length, I sit back and say, "It is now blocked in, but I must let it dry for a few moments before I put in the details, or else it will blur."
Brother Arcangelo translates and Cheng Shih takes her hand from my shoulder where it had been resting and pours another cup of that delicious plum wine and hands it to me. Too much of this and I ain't gonna be paintin' nothin', I'm thinking.
"Thank you, Beloved Shih," I say as I take a very cautious sip. That is how I have been addressing her in Chinese. She beams. Her little European trifle is learning to speak a cultured language, imagine that.
As the painting dries, I cast my eyes about the room. There are various decorations—painted screens depicting great battles and lissome maids with fans and fancy hair, figurines, and a squat statue of a little fat man.
"What is that?" I ask of Arcangelo.
"Ah. That is a statue of the Buddha, the Great Teacher," he answers. "One of the major figures in Oriental religion."
"He seems rather pleasant enough. Is that Cheng Shih's religion?"
"No, actually she is, like most Chinese, a Confucian. She keeps that there to remind her of a debt unpaid."
I lift my eyebrows, in question, and he turns and murmurs something to Cheng Shih, I guess keeping her informed of what we are talking about. Nobody likes to be left out of a conversation, and we certainly don't want to get that one mad.
"Bueno. Here is the story. Last year, we visited a town on the coast of Java. As their town was being sacked, Buddhist monks residing therein succeeded in making off with an enormous statue of great worth—the Golden Buddha. They got it on a ship and were bound away, their sacred idol safe, they thought. Alas, they were wrong, as they were soon overtaken by the Divine Wind. Seeing that their efforts were in vain, the would-be rescuers of the Buddha threw him overboard and, in true Buddist monk tradition, all the monks threw themselves in after it to perish. I think they were smart to do that, as Cheng Shih was furious and she would have had them all killed in horrible ways. Attempts were made to raise the Buddha but all proved fruitless. It was just too deep—at least thirty-five fathoms down. Several divers died trying to get down to the statue, and others refused to go. Cheng Shih eventually gave up on it, but did mark the spot with bearings and buoys, and then she sailed off, fuming. She is still angry now. After all, it's a very valuable prize—solid gold and studded with jewels, and all that."
The painting is dry enough now to resume work. I pick up the thinnest of the brushes and begin tightening up the forms, firming up the overall structure and putting in the details. All the while I am thinking...
There it is ... a way to free myself, free Jaimy, and get my Lorelei back. Now, just how to present it to Cheng Shih...
I blot the last strokes and hold the painting up to Cheng Shih. She clasps her hands in delight. To while away the afternoon, I take out my pennywhistle and begin on "The Sally Gardens," to lend Cheng Shih some enjoyment and to calm my churning mind.
In bed this night, with Cheng Shih lying beside me asleep, I think on my plan and go over it and over it in my head. Tomorrow, I will present it to her.
Wish us luck, Jaimy...
Chapter 60
Hai!
Her sword comes whipping out of its sheath and slashes down toward my head. I reach back with both hands and grasp the hilt of my own sword and barely get it out in time to parry her attack.
We are on the main deck of the Divine Wind.
She smiles and withdraws her blade, slowly circling around me, the tip of her sword describing small circles in the air. She looks for an opening, then...
Hai!
Leaping in the air, she strikes. I do not get my own sword around in time and she lays her blade against my neck.
"Xian! Hao!"
She laughs and returns her sword to the scabbard that is strapped to her back. I ruefully sheathe mine, too. In this particular discipline of Oriental sword fighting, the object is to draw your sword, strike, and then resheathe in one fluid motion as your opponent slumps to the ground in a pool of his own blood. It is very elegant to see, but very difficult to do.
I bow low to her in defeat.
"She has just complimented you on how well you are coming along," says Brother Arcangelo.
"Doh je, zhong ai de Shih," I say, bowing low. Then I take a deep breath and say, "I have a request to make, Beloved Shih. Please. In your cabin."
The priest, looking a bit perplexed, passes it on. Cheng Shih looks at me, nods, and strides off. I do not think she is pleased. I follow her to the cabin.
Once there, she sits on her cushion and signals to Chi-chi for a cup of wine. One cup of wine, not two.
Uh-oh...
I immediately fall to my knees and put my forehead to the floor at her feet and begin to speak.
"Beloved One, I thank you for all the love you have shown me, an uninvited barbarian, since first I came here. I arrived, intending to do your ship harm, and yet you took me in and treated me with kindness..."
Brother Arcangelo drones on behind me, translating my words.
"...and now I want to ask of you a favor, one that is well within your power to grant. And if you grant me that favor, I will bring up your Golden Buddha for you."
That gets everybody's attention, for sure.
She reaches out her foot and puts her toe under my chin to lift my face. I take this to mean I can sit back on my haunches. I do it and continue.
"You see, there are two British ships out on the China Sea, probably very near here..."
Cheng Shih says something very tersely at this and Brother Arcangelo informs me, "Yes, she has scout ships out and she has heard of these."
"Good. You see, one of the ships, my Lorelei Lee, has a ... device ... on it that will allow me to go down to get the Golden Buddha."
There is sharp intake of female Chinese breath on this.
"It is on the very ship you attacked on the day I came aboard the Divine Wind. You already know that vessel is very well armed—I know because I armed her—and if you were to attack straight on, there would be much bloodshed on both sides, and I have many dear friends on that boat as well as on this one. Plus, in a heated exchange, the ship might well go to the bottom and the device would be lost and you would never, ever, bring up the Golden Buddha."
"So how is it to be done, gaining this magic machine?" she asks, doubt plain in her voice. From her tone, I know what she says, even without Brother Arcangelo's translation.
I scooch over next to her, pressing my advantage.
"There is another British ship out there, a convict ship, that carries no gunnery—it is the Cerberus and is but a simple convict ship bound for South Australia and is completely helpless." I let that sink in and then continue. "However, the two are known to each other, and if you were to take the unarmed ship, the Cerberus, first, we could fill it with your men in disguise and come up next to the unsuspecting Lorelei Lee, in the guise of friendship, throw over the hooks, and take her, with little or no bloodshed." I hope no bloodshed...
Cheng Shih fixes me with a shrewd look and speaks.
"She wishes to know what shall be your reward for this?" says Brother Arcangelo, looking like he'd like to know the answer, too.
I put my forehead to the deck and and begin my plea.
"Beloved Shih, there is a young man held captive on the Cerberus along with many of my friends. He and I were pledged to be married but cruel injustice pulled us apart, and I want him back so much, so very, very much..."
Cheng Shih's eyes narrow.
"Yes. Go on," murmurs Brother Arcangelo.
My eyes are tearing up now, but I gulp and press on.
"If I succeed in bringing up the Golden Buddha for you, will you give me back my ship and my young man and ... let us go?"
The tears are coming on strong now as I lift my face to hers.
"Please, dear one. You have your ship ... I just want mine. I love you, Beloved Shih, but ... but ... I want to be with my people ... with my man, my friends, and with my ship. You have shown me that you have affection for my poor self. If you could grant this wish—"
Cheng Shih gets to her feet and stares down at me. She spits a few clipped words to Brother Arcangelo, and then turns her back on me and stalks off toward her cabin. On the way, she calls out something to Cheng Pao, standing on the quarterdeck. He in turn bellows out an order and men fly up into the yards and the rudder is put over. We are changing course.
Brother Arcangelo gives me his hand and lifts me off my knees.
"He is turning in the likely direction of those ships. He will send out scout ships. It will not be long till they find them," he says. "Cheng Shih agrees to take those ships, and if you manage to bring up the Buddha with that wonderful device, she will free your lad"—here he pauses—"but she said nothing about letting you go."
Oh.
I follow her and stand outside her door. I give a light tap, but I am not admitted. No, I am forced to stand there for at least an hour.
Then the door suddenly flies open and Cheng Shih's hand shoots out and grabs me by the wrist and yanks me in. Her face is stormy, and in her other hand she holds a thin, whippy switch.