Book 13 : 786

786 Spring 3,6

Viiniha is very happy to have Judd on board. And no, of course there’s no charge. I knew there wouldn’t be, but Miisha felt she had to ask Viiniha how much it would cost.

786 Spring 4,4

Tahrteyr.

I’ve never called in here before. We’ve always sailed straight past whenever I’ve been on board. I didn’t even know it was here. Until you get right close in to the town the coast just looks completely barren – rather like Zhaam or Troum in that respect. But it’s a big, bustling town, apparently with a big hinterland, which little Zhaam and Troum don’t have at all.

There looks to be a storm brewing, and Viiniha doesn’t want to be caught rounding the headland at Orambui in the dark in a storm, so we’re taking shelter here.

It was a good opportunity for Judd – and me – to take a look at the town in the last hour or so of daylight. The rest of them have all been here before but only Viiniha and Greyr have been ashore. Kazhiir and Peyrham always stayed on board to look after the ship.

None of them know the local language, and apart from the port office staff, no-one here knows either Bhoemari or Laana. There are quite a few fishing boats in the harbour, but there are no cargo or passenger ships apart from Vinhaassa. Apparently there rarely are.

The town and its hinterland seem to be rather a world apart, whereas Perruhi, Orambui, and Laanoha are very much part of the same world, even if there are many days sailing between them.

Viiniha told us that it’s a perfectly peaceful place, and nobody will bother us if we go for a wander, and that was our experience. But we couldn’t even read the prices marked up on the goods on the market: not only is the writing nothing like anything I’ve seen before, even the numbers are. Everywhere else I’ve been this side of the Maze writes numbers either exactly like Laanoha (and England) do, or so similarly as to be no problem. But I can make neither head nor tail of anything written here. It looks more like a lot of little pictures than any kind of writing.

When it started to get dark, Judd and I headed back to the harbour. The port office was lit up with several oil lamps. We popped in to say hello. Viiniha had told us someone there would speak Laana, and she was right. We ended up staying in there for half an hour or so, chatting friendlily and being plied with warm skiir – or something rather like it.

We’re back on Vinhaassa now. The storm hasn’t struck yet, but the sky has clouded over and it’s looking very threatening.

Viiniha had been into the port office while we were wandering, as someone from a ship visiting a port must. But unlike most ports, there’s no charge for staying here. If you load or unload goods here, the owner pays a percentage of the value, and storage charges for any goods left in the warehouse.

We’re fairly heavily loaded, but we’d have room for a passenger or two, or a few small items. But the port office says they have no goods or passengers waiting to go anywhere.

Tahrteyr must be the quietest port anywhere, in proportion to the size of the town. Why? I’ve no idea, and nor has Viiniha.

The port office must really exist only for the fishermen.

786 Spring 5,3

Perruhi.

That was quite a storm that night at Tahrteyr. Another thunder and lightning end of the world kind of storm. Two in a few weeks after so many years without one anything like it. Just as well we weren’t off Orambui point!

The crew are unloading those beautiful boxes. Copper, tons of it. Well hidden, but the boxes are so beautiful anyone would guess that whatever’s inside is expensive stuff. But the port is well guarded.

I feel dreadful not helping, but those boxes are heavy. And I know I really mustn’t. And Judd is still too little.

There’s no substantial cargo, nor any passengers, to go anywhere, so Viiniha intends to sail to Tonki to see what cargo she can get there. There are a few parcels for Tonki – and a few for Gogohra, so we’ll stop by there on the way. In cash terms, it’s barely worth stopping just to deliver a few parcels, but there might be other work at Gogohra, and it’s worth it anyway just to maintain good relationships in the port offices.

We’ll be on our way as soon as they’ve unloaded. In the meantime, I’ll do the cooking.

786 Spring 6,1

A bit slow getting to Gogohra. Halfway here we were becalmed for two days, and it was very warm and humid for the time of year. Sunrise was incredible, all day the sky was cloudless and almost yellow, then there was an amazing sunset to end it. Yellowish dust everywhere, and dirty dew the next mornings.

Sunrises and sunsets have continued to be rather fine, but not like the days of the yellow sky, the stillness, and the dust.

Strange weather.¹

A few more parcels from Gogohra for Tonki – and a few to go further, which we might take ourselves, or which might stay in Tonki waiting for onward transport, depending what other work we get in Tonki.

786 Spring 6,4

Tonki.

We have passengers to Hansul, and a few more parcels. The passengers don’t want to stop at intermediate ports, so we’ve offloaded all the parcels from Gogohra – but got some more, for Hansul and beyond.

No time for Judd and me to take a wander, but he’s seen the city from Vinhaassa, especially as we approached. You can’t see much actually tied up at the quay.

Viiniha will have to hurry the passengers aboard, because our draught is too great for the quay at low tide. We could sit out the tide on the mud safely enough, but it would be another six hours at least before we could get away, and Greyr says it’s not the nicest place to navigate out of in the dark.

786 Spring 7,4

Hansul.

Viiniha got Judd and me to help with hurrying the passengers aboard at Tonki, but it was like herding cats. They just wanted one last look at that other stall on the quay, and haggled over the prices, and we ended up stuck on the mud.

“We’re all aboard now. Why aren’t we going anywhere? Why were you rushing us if we weren’t going to leave yet?”

Hey ho. Viiniha did try to explain, but I don’t think it got through.

It’s not that the passengers were stupid. I don’t know what their native language is, but it’s not Bhoemari. I’m impressed with how good Viiniha’s Bhoemari is nowadays. I don’t know it at all, I was just parroting what Viiniha told me to say. I think Judd mastered the pronunciation a lot better than I did.

Eight year old ears are better than sixty year old ones. That’s my excuse, anyway. Eight year old tongues are probably better than sixty year old ones too. Let’s not think about brains...

I don’t think the passengers understood until we actually floated off the mud, by which time it was well and truly dark. There were lights around the harbour, and we could see lights out on the water, and the other side of the river, but the real view of the city didn’t appear until we were well out into the middle of the river.

There was only a light offshore breeze, and even with the wind behind us, the tide coming in meant we could barely make any headway out to sea at all. It took us ages to get clear of the river.

But the slowly changing view of the city lights was amazing, and the crew managed the navigation perfectly.

Relationships with the passengers improved rapidly, and by the time we arrived here in Hansul we were all old friends. Not quite tears at parting, but not a long way from it.

And now the crew are helping some dock hands loading crates of dried fish to go to Bhoemar. It’ll only be a half load, but there are a couple of rather fine trunks, some parcels, and two passengers as well. A bit light, but better than nothing.

The passengers are heading for Vantun, and if we can get a good cargo headed that way in Bhoemar we might take them, but the odds are we’ll do better heading back north after Bhoemar and leave them to find another ship.

786 Spring 8,2

Bhoemar.

In Hansul we got an extra two passengers with vast amounts of luggage at the last minute – just arrived from Kanuku and headed for Vantun. A runner from the port office reached us to tell us just as we were casting off.

There’s a full load of timber to go back to Hansul if we want that, or there’s a full complement of passengers for Vantun if we can wait a day or so for them to be rounded up.

Passengers are more profitable, but they’re also more trouble in general. But I’ve been cooking for the passengers, and Judd’s been waitering, which relieves Viiniha, so it’s not too bad.

The clincher is that the port office says it’s almost certain these days that we’ll get a full complement of passengers coming from Vantun to Bhoemar or beyond on the way back, and that even if this load of timber is gone by the time we get back there’ll definitely be another.

So we’re off to Vantun.

And the fact that I’m relieving Viiniha by cooking brings me to another thing: Viiniha is getting old. The real reason she came to invite me along was in the hope of persuading me to take over as purser – and, to all intents and purposes, captain.

I’m not young any more, either. But she’s probably fifteen years older than I am.

But I don’t know Bhoemari.

Nor did I when I started this job, she says.

I’m a bit old to be learning a new language.

Are you? How old do you think I was when I did?

Umm. About my age now...and I don’t have any responsibilities, really. I’m Uncle to most of the railway folk, but I’m not really anyone’s uncle, and my own son is grown up and married.

I don’t really need the money. But they really do need a purser.

Surely we could find someone?

But would we be able to trust whoever we found?

What will they do when I get old?

Viiniha looked at Judd. He can read and write and he’s good at arithmetic, isn’t he? He’ll be in his mid-twenties by the time you’re my age.

Who’s to say he won’t be doing something quite different by then?

Who indeed? Who knows what will happen in fifteen years?

786 Spring 8,3

Viiniha, with the help of the port office, managed to find the young lady who acted as interpreter on their last trip to Vantun. She promised her that this trip would not be traumatic.

No, we don’t need an interpreter for unknown and possibly unpleasant passengers – we need a teacher for a polite and civilized member of our own crew. You won’t need to interact with the passengers at all. Nor with any we might have on the way back – Birgom speaks English, and the rest of the crew all have enough Bhoemari to get by.

So Zhiishii is going to teach me. I wanted to know why Viiniha and the crew couldn’t teach me. Viiniha wants me to learn proper Bhoemari, not some unrefined second- or third-hand pidgin.

786 Spring 8,4

Zhiishii is very sweet and very young and very well educated. In school subjects if not in real life! Her father was a Bhoemari businessman and her mother came from Vantun as a refugee. I guess her mother probably had an education in real life that she hasn’t wanted to share with her little girl.

Zhiishii’s father died suddenly when she was just a little girl. Her mother knew she couldn’t possibly run the business, but managed to sell it and now lives reasonably comfortably running a guesthouse she bought with part of the proceeds.

Most of the rest went on sending Zhiishii and her younger brother to the best schools in Bhoemar.

I didn’t really fit in, Zhiishii says. All the other girls came from really rich families. My father was well off, but nowhere near as rich as that, and my mother really isn’t well off at all. Well, not poor by a long way, but definitely not well off.

Zhiishii’s English is Vantunese, of course. I can understand it fairly well, and she can understand me. There are odd moments of confusion – some vocabulary differences, and a lot of different idioms. But she’s actually easier to understand than other Vantuners I’ve talked with, perhaps because she’s more educated and just generally talks with more precision. But I suspect her mother came from a different stratum of society.

A refugee? I wonder what exactly from? I shan’t ask. Not yet, anyway. I shan’t let Zhiishii see my diary, either. I don’t know what script is used in Vantun. Ballerrans don’t use the Roman alphabet – something that looks as though it might derive from the Manafan alphabet, in fact, or one of its relatives – but what do Vantuners use? Probably not the Roman alphabet, but I don’t know. I’ll probably find out soon enough.

We’ll be leaving on the evening tide today.

Zhiishii’s mother just visited us to talk with Viiniha, to take a look at arrangements on Vinhaassa, and to be introduced to Zhiishii’s pupil. Me.

She thinks I come from Ballerra, of course, since I speak English but am not from Vantun. She’d never heard of Ballerra until Zhiishii told her about the passengers on her traumatic trip, and was a bit worried I’d be like them. She seems satisfied.

I’ve not tried to explain about England.

786 Spring 10,7

We are becalmed again. Viiniha says this isn’t unusual hereabouts. It doesn’t usually last more than two or three days, and we have plenty of water.

Nothing strange about the weather – it’s just hot, with a clear blue sky and a merciless sun.

We’re in sight of the coast, and drifting very slowly eastwards along it with the current. The coast looks completely barren. Sand, sand, sand, then a little headland of rocks, then sand, sand, sand again.

Peyrham is taking soundings at intervals, in case we need to anchor to avoid reefs or sandbanks, but the water is reassuringly deep and we’re drifting in the right direction. Greyr is confident that any very sudden reduction in depth would be visible in plenty of time by the pattern of waves on the surface as the current hit the obstruction, and he and Kazhiir are taking turns keeping a watch ahead.

The direction of ahead keeps shifting as we rotate slowly in the water. It’s a bit disconcerting for some of the passengers, I think. They’ve only done this trip once, in the opposite direction. The couple from Kanuku are clearly seasoned travellers, and take it all in the their stride as much as the crew do.

Judd has taken to joining in the lessons. At first I thought this would slow my progress, because he and Zhiishii have no language in common. But it really works. He’s learning Bhoemari amazingly quickly – and picking up a fair bit of English, too. He really has a very sharp mind, this boy.

So, clearly, does Zhiishii – who is picking up a fair amount of Laana.

I wish I was learning Bhoemari half as fast as these two learn. But I’m more than twice her age, and about seven times his. Is that any excuse? I don’t know.

786 Spring 11,1

Still becalmed.

Vantunese uses the Roman alphabet! Well – more or less. They’ve got a couple of letters English English doesn’t have. French and German don’t have them either, I’ve never seen them before. Spelling is different for many words, too, but a lot are the same – even some of the ones whose spelling is a bit weird.

Now there’s something else to think about on the subject of the history of English, all around the world. All the other languages I know anything about seem to be basically local, or local to the first, second or third world² at any rate.

But are they? Or do I only notice English because it’s my own language?

786 Spring 11,2

A strong wind for a couple of hours this morning, but now we’re becalmed again.

786 Spring 11,7

Yesterday we arrived at Puuhtum. A funny little place, whose only reason for existing seems to be to supply fresh water to passing ships. They have a few fishing boats, but the most noticeable thing about the town is the constant stream of donkeys carrying skins of water from somewhere inland. I wonder what the source of the water is?

The terrain looks more suited to camels than donkeys, but I’ve not seen a camel since leaving Manafa.

Zhiishii and Judd were astonished at the idea of camels. I’m not sure they believe me at all.

Zhiishii said I’m a good pupil, but I think she was just being kind. Judd is a lot better. He’s great, she says, but most of the children I’ve taught are just time wasters. They think they know it all already, but they don’t. And you can’t tell their parents anything. Rich folk. I hate them.

That makes two of us, Zhiishii. But we need them, the way the world is. I wish the world was different, but you can’t change it. Well, I can’t. This thought again… I can’t help it, I’m going to cry.

Zhiishii put her arm around my shoulders, wiped my tears and wanted to know the story. I considered showing her my diaries, then thought better of it and didn’t mention them. We talked well into the night.

I’ll try to stick to the lessons today, but we always end up talking about all sorts. Not entirely in English, so at least some of it is good practice.

786 Spring 12,2

I think it’s my sixtieth birthday today. Well, by definition it is. Whether it was Spring 12,2 when I was born I’ll never know, but it was sometime around this. And whether it’s April 28th today I’ll never know either. The calendars don’t keep in sync anyway³.

I won’t tell anyone it’s my birthday.

I’ll be making breakfast for the passengers soon. I’ve already done the crew’s. Judd will be waiter for the passengers as usual. Then after breakfast it’ll be lessons until it’s time for me to cook lunch. Then more lessons in the afternoon, and probably chatting with Viiniha and Zhiishii and whichever of the crew isn’t on watch in the evening. Maybe playing the mizma, with Judd on the fihihi, or a bit of singing.

This is how the days pass now. Could be two more weeks to Vantun, depending on the wind.

786 Spring 12,3

I didn’t tell anyone it was my birthday, but Viiniha knew, I don’t know how.

She wouldn’t let me in the galley to do the evening meals, and produced the most sumptuous meal I’ve seen on board ship. Then we had a musical evening – not quite like the sessions at Behmi’s or the Railwayyard Inn, but quite a do. The passengers must have wondered what was going on.

Zhiishii has a beautiful voice. She sang a few Bhoemari songs, then a few English ones specially for me. I know more Mezha songs than English ones, but I sang a few English ones specially for her, which she said she loved. But neither of us knew any of the songs the other sang.

She said she’ll teach me Bhoemari songs, then we can sing together. She was fascinated by the mizma, and wants to learn to play it.

786 Summer 1,5

Vantun!

I’d imagined a bigger town, but it’s not very big. Zhiishii says there are quite a lot of smaller towns further inland, so it’s a centre for quite a substantial population. You can see from the ship as you approach that the area is heavily wooded.

Zhiishii wants to know how long we’ll be here.

No, I don’t have any relatives here I want to visit, but I’d like to go ashore and explore a bit if you’ll come with me. This isn’t a place for a young woman on her own, especially a young woman who looks like me, according to my mother.

Her mother was a refugee. Zhiishii herself is a young woman who looks different in some way. How many of the Vantuners in Bhoemar are refugees? And why?

Do Zhiishii and her mother mix with the other Vantuners in Bhoemar at all? She doesn’t like the rich people she went to school with, but nor does she seem to belong in the kind of rough area Aibram was keen for us to avoid, where most of the Bhoemar Vantuners live.

If we have time to go ashore tomorrow maybe I’ll find out a bit more.

The passengers who treated her so badly last time weren’t Vantuners. They were Ballerran.

Summer 1,5? It’s the end of autumn here, or the beginning of winter. Wonderful autumn colours in the woods, and a lot of trees bare already.

786 Summer 1,6

We’ve spent the day ashore. Viiniha says we’ll be here at least one more night, probably two or three. And I ought to come into the port office with her if I’m going to be the captain before long. Am I? Why else am I learning Bhoemari?

Zhiishii hasn’t been ashore here before. She stayed aboard the whole time Vinhaassa was here last time. How much difference having me with her made we’ll never know, but we didn’t have any trouble at all wandering wherever we wanted today.

It’s strange – for Zhiishii as much as for me – to hear English spoken everywhere. Even if it is rather strange English to my ear. It seems to come in two flavours. One, much the more common, is like the English I’ve heard in Bhoemar. The other is like Zhiishii’s.

And the people speaking these two different Englishes do look different. It’s partly that they dress differently, but their faces are different, too.

It’s not clear-cut. There are quite a lot of people I wouldn’t be able to fit into either group until they spoke, and maybe not even then. I’ve seen a lot more people than I’ve heard speaking. But the general division is pretty clear.

There are well dressed people in both groups, and shabbily dressed people in both; well groomed in both groups, and dishevelled in both. Shopkeepers seem disproportionately to belong to the rarer group, and stallholders to the majority, but neither is exclusive.

Zhiishii’s mother clearly fits into the rarer group, but I don’t think anyone could tell which group Zhiishii belongs to until she speaks. And I don’t think anyone could tell which group I belong to at all.

Or could they? My English is unlike either, but perhaps, to be honest, it’s less unlike Zhiishii’s. My appearance is just outlandish, anywhere this side of the Maze. Anywhere this side of Kobo’a, in fact.

But we didn’t have any trouble, anyway. And we did buy presents for her mother, and for my Laanoha friends and family. Things are generally cheaper here than in Bhoemar or Hansul, about the same as in Tonki or Laanoha. Well, the sort of things we were buying. Food seems quite expensive, apart from fish and seaweed.

Zhiishii and I had a good lunch in a cafe at the other end of the harbour, where the fishing boats were. She enjoyed the shellfish as much as I did, I think, but was amused at me choosing the cheapest thing available, in the cheapest cafe in town.

It wouldn’t be cheap in Laanoha, I told her. You could make a fortune if you could magically transport shellfish from here to Laanoha in an instant, or somehow stop it going off on the long, slow journey. No, I don’t think salted shellfish wouldn’t sell well in Laanoha!

786 Summer 1,7

In the end we decided that I wouldn’t go into the port office with Viiniha. She can talk Bhoemari there which I wouldn’t understand. I could talk English which she wouldn’t understand. Things could get awfully confused, and the port officials would probably assume they should be dealing with me. Which they will be when Viiniha retires, but she’s the captain – purser? – for now. Definitely.

Judd did go with her. He’s picking up Bhoemari fast, and this was a good opportunity for him to listen to real life conversations. No-one could misunderstand his role.

There will be passengers for Bhoemar. A full complement. There’s a waiting list. It will take three days for them to be gathered in from outlying villages.

786 Summer 2,1

Zhiishii and I have taken a ride in a trap out to Ponkontun. The port office in Vantun told Viiniha that there are good views from the top of the hill here, and some beautiful waterfalls in the vicinity. All within easy walking distance of the guest houses in the middle of the village.

The trap was pulled by two donkeys. Much slower than the horse-drawn gigs around Laanoha or London, but seemingly a lot more tolerant of terrible roads.

I’ve not seen a horse anywhere south of Hansul, in fact.

We could have walked as fast. But not for so long, nor carrying our stuff.

We’ve allowed our host to assume that we’re father and daughter. We’re now sitting at a table on a verandah outside the guest house, waiting for a meal, and enjoying a wonderful view over the valley below. Mile after mile of trees.

And I’m writing my diary, and Zhiishii is reading it as I write.

Other people here could read it, too. Perhaps I should be writing in Laana. But then people in Laanoha could read it.

Ha. I could write in Manafai! Then not a soul this side of the Maze could read it.

Well. Maybe a few ne’er do wells who’ve fled this way. Like me.

But you’re not a ne’er do well!

Are you sure?

Yes.

Laughter.

786 Summer 2,2

The waterfalls are indeed beautiful. One of them is a single drop of maybe seventy feet, with a deep plunge pool surrounded by tall trees. In the shelter in the bottom of the gorge the trees haven’t lost their leaves yet, and they’re wonderful colours.

Zhiishii suggested that we should come here in the height of the southern summer sometime, and swim in the pool. “It’s a bit too cold now, I think.”

But swimming in plunge pools is suicidal. All the bubbles in the water mean you’re not at all buoyant. And the way the water churns would drag you towards the fall, and then under.

“Spoilsport!”

And anyway, we’re setting off back to Bhoemar the day after tomorrow, and then you’ll be home, and I’ll be going on to my home.

Sad face.

I couldn’t help it; I pulled her to me and kissed her on the forehead. She put her arms round me and pressed the side of her head against my chest.

Father and daughter? Perfectly credible. I don’t think anyone saw us anyway.

The path twists away and up through the woods, and then rejoins the river above the fall.

The other falls are not as dramatic, but they’re lovely in a gentler way. The water tumbles over a series of ledges, and you can clamber up the rocks alongside them. Maybe not if the river was in spate. There was plenty of water to make the scene, but not enough to make progress difficult. Zhiishii is a lot shorter than me, and could only manage the steps up from ledge to ledge with a little help.

At the top of the last set of falls the water comes out of a long horizontal crack between two different-coloured layers of rock at the foot of a small cliff. The obvious path leads along the foot of the cliff for a short way, then steeply up through the woods.

The top of the hill is bare of trees for the last hundred yards or so, and the view is fabulous. You can’t see Vantun at all, it’s hidden by the hills between there and here, but you’re higher than they are and you can see the sea beyond, maybe fifteen or twenty miles away. In every other direction it’s just mile after mile of trees. In the very far distance, to the south-west, you can see snow-capped mountains.

And here we are again, waiting for our meal on the verandah. We are being treated like royalty. We’re paying for the privilege, of course, but it’s not expensive at all.

The trap will call for us straight after breakfast.

The people running this guest house speak Zhiishii’s kind of English. The fellow with the trap speaks the other sort, but is perfectly friendly.

We’ll get back to working on my Bhoemari when we’re back on board, but this has been a lovely break.

{The rest of this book is full of what must be Bhoemari writing, in two different hands, presumably Zhiishii’s and Birgom’s.}

Back to the top

On to Book 14