Now on their way up the Pearl river, Kydd saw ahead: where the two sides of the bay rapidly swept together into twin high bluffs, the river constricted to less than a mile. High above, frowning down from the eminence of the craggy rock face, were two facing forts exceptionally well placed to command the approaches.
'Chuen Pi,' the pilot said to Lord Elmhurst, who sat in an ornate canvas chair on the after deck. 'Or, as the Portuguese have it, Boca Tigris — the tiger's mouth.'
Kydd, tending the main sheets with Adam, was able to take in every word. He would try to remember the details, for Renzi had not been selected for this duty. 'Like a pusser's shirt on a marline spike,' was the boatswain's unkind comment; the tropics had indeed left Renzi thin and rangy. With a twinge Kydd remembered the forlorn devastation on Renzi's face as he had left to go on to witness the marvels of the Orient at first hand without him.
A puff of smoke jetted from one fort, followed a little later by a hollow boom. The sound reverberated between the high sides of the passage and Kydd thought he could detect the almost tuneful resonance of bronze cannon.
Minutes later, the gaudy ribbed sails of a war-junk appeared from behind a prominence. The three lateen-rigged sails worked against each other to achieve remarkable manoeuvrability.
'Back yer topsail an' brail up!' growled Quinlan, the Master's mate at the tiller. The cutter slowed to a stop as the sails were dowsed, and she wallowed uncomfortably.
'Shouldn't have any trouble,' the pilot said. 'We does the run every week, an' there's no squeeze unless y'r carryin' cargo.'
The war-junk dipped and plunged towards them, pennants and streamers in the wind, a big painted eye on each bow. It passed down one side; Kydd saw weed and sea-growth hanging long and unkempt, the sailors in their curious conical hats lounging, bored.
Going about, the vessel came up the other side of them; on the turn there was the same wild rocking to the waves as the fishing-boats he had seen earlier, and the same astonishingly dry decks. It passed close by, and Kydd could see guns on deck, green-streaked bronze cannon with muzzles in the form of rudimentary dragon mouths. It passed ahead, and from its leeward guns came a perfunctory three-gun salute.
'Let go an' sheet in,' snapped Quinlan, and shaped course to follow. They passed between the bluffs and into the land beyond. The cliffs gradually subsided and the river widened to a quite different prospect; hummocks and the flatness of paddy-fields stretching away to the grey-blue of distant mountains. The river slowed and dissipated into a maze of sandbanks and waterways. Two merchant ships lay at anchor in a tidepool, their sails carelessly draped in a loose furl, men hanging listlessly over the rail.
'C'n only get over at the top o' the tide, deep sea vessels/ the pilot said. 'With three sandbars, means ye can't make it up in under two days.'
They pressed on, the pilot standing close to Quinlan and muttering instructions. It was physically strenuous negotiating the tortuous bends, with the sudden tacking and gybing. Kydd worked hard at the mainsheets. As he hauled, he couldn't take his eyes off the land. It was outside his experience: subtly foreign vegetation, an exotic cooking smell on the air and the uniquely Oriental sights - stilt houses, a blindfolded water buffalo driven by a small boy in an endless circle, a monstrous sized water-wheel, and dotting the paddy-fields inland, several many-storeyed pagodas.
Lord Elmhurst remained on deck, choosing not to join his equerry in the comfortable half cabin. With his face set in a frown he scanned the unfamiliar panorama. 'How far is it to Canton?'
The pilot swung round. 'In large, it's forty-three miles from Boca Tigris, m'lord, but we notes that deep-water packets can only reach to Whampoa, jus' a dozen miles short.' He smiled and added, 'An' we'll be takin' our vittles there within the hour.'
The river narrowed again and as they surged past a stilted village Kydd heard for the first time the garrulous, noisy chatter of the Chinese against the lowing of water buffalo and squealing of pigs. Around the bend the river widened considerably. A large island occupied the middle of the river and anchored all along its shoreline were merchant ships, loading bales. From the shore rickety jetties ran out to the ships.
'Whampoa, m'lord,' the pilot said unnecessarily.
Neatly, Leila ran alongside an Indiaman. Stirk expertly dowsed the headsails and, turning quickly, grappled the boathook to her main-chains. It became apparent that Lord Elmhurst would not be swarming up the rope ladder to get aboard the merchant ship, but would be dining aboard Leila.
'Two hours to find scran,' warned Quinlan, who lost no time getting himself over the bulwark. The Indiaman's hatches were off, and a continuous line of coolies brought cedarwood tea-chests for loading; others were in the hold stowing, tomming down the cargo securely for the stormy trip home.