The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [462]
‘Yes,’ said Ash bitterly. ‘We can't risk that.’
There seemed to be no way out. It was inconceivable – fatuous and unjust and totally unfair – that two grown people who only wanted to marry each other should not be permitted to do so, when their marriage would harm no one. It was a purely personal matter, and if people could get married at sea without the aid of magistrates and licences, like that couple on the Canterbury Castle, there should be some equally simple method by which those on land could do the same, and he –
‘By God, that'S it!’ cried Ash explosively, leaping to his feet. ‘Red Stiggins – the Morala. Why on earth didn't I think of that before?’
Red had said something about sailing for Karachi ‘in a few weeks' time' and had invited him to come along for the voyage. And if the Morala had not left yet…
Pausing only to bestow a fervent hug on the bewildered Mrs Viccary, he ran from her drawing-room, shouting for Kulu Ram to fetch his horse, and ten minutes later anyone happening to be abroad at that hottest hour of the day would have seen a Sahib riding hell-for-leather down the glaring cantonment road towards the city.
The shrewd Gujerati who looked after Captain Stiggins's business interests in the peninsula had a small office in a street near the Daripur Gate, and he had been enjoying his customary afternoon's siesta when the Sahib burst in on him, demanding to know if the Morala had already set sail for Karachi, and if not, when she would be leaving and from where. And this time Ash's luck was in, for the Morala had not yet sailed, though she would be doing so very shortly – in the next day or two if all went well, and certainly not later than the end of the week. The ship was at Cambay at the head of the Gulf, and if the Sahib wished to send a message –?
The Sahib did, and was grateful for the offer as he had no time to spare for writing letters. ‘Tell him that I accept his invitation and to expect me tomorrow; and that whatever he does, he is not to sail without me.’
There was a great deal to be done and not much time in which to do it, for the port of Cambay was all of sixty miles from Ahmadabad, and Ash rode back to his bungalow at the same break-neck speed at which he had left Mrs Viccary's.
46
Captain Stiggins scratched the copper-coloured stubble on his chin with a horny thumb and stared thoughtfully at Ash for a full two minutes, pondering the matter. Then he said slowly: ‘Well now… I can't say as I'm pre-cisely the same kind of animal as one of them gilded skippers of a steam packet – no more'n the old Morala is a fancy passenger ship. Still, I'm the master of this ‘ere craft, and so I don't see as 'ow that shouldn't give me the right to do anything a cove in a frock-coat and brass buttons can do aboard one of them swanky great P & O boats.’
‘Then you'll do it, Red?’
‘Well, son, I ain't never done such a thing before, so I can't say as I'll go bail for its bein' legal. But I reckon that's yore 'eadache, not mine. And seein' as we're pals, I'm willin' to chance me arm and splice yer… now, now–’old yore 'orses, son. I've said as I'll do it as a favour – but I ain't a goin' to do it 'ere and now. Not for you nor no one will I go pretendin' that this 'ere duck-pond is an ocean, so you'll just 'ave to wait until we're standin' well clear o' the land and a good 'arf way between 'ere and Chahbar, see? That's goin' to make it look a sight better in the log-book; and it seems to me, young feller, that yore goin' to need to do everything you can t' make this caper o' yores look ship-shape and above board. Them's my terms, son. Take 'em or leave 'em.’
‘Where the hell is Chahbar? I thought you were bound for Karachi.’
‘So I am – on the way back. But there's bin a change of plan. I reckon you bin too busy with yore own