Read Battle Fleet (2007) for Free Online Page B

the kitchen door and peer inside, waiting to be picked up. Then they would coo as I stroked their soft feathers.
    This fight had drawn upwards of a hundred people. One bird eventually ran from the battle. But even then its torment was not over. The other bird was held before it. ‘It’s their tradition,’ explained Evison, who had been too wrapped up in the fight to notice I’dturned away. ‘The winner has to have enough strength left to peck the loser three times. Only then is he declared the victor.’
    Evison found his bearings and we headed up a hill away from the harbour, then along a well-beaten path from the main settlement. The chief merchant here was a Dutchman and we soon arrived at his house. It was built in a native style, and was quite grand with a large straw roof and low walls, but light and spacious inside.
    Waiting for us were several of the local chiefs. Unlike the almost naked people on the street, these men were dressed in beautifully embroidered waistcoats that stretched down to their knees. Their legs were covered by long cotton drawers, but none wore shoes or stockings. The room we entered was decorated in the native style, with little in the way of furniture but many plump silk cushions, bordered with fine gold and silver thread.
    As the merchant made his introductions, the chiefs all put their hands together and lifted them to their head. This gesture, I was told later, was known as the salem.
    We were offered a choice of coffee or toddy – a spirit distilled from palm juice. ‘Have the coffee,’ whispered Evison. ‘The other stuff will floor you.’
    Our refreshment arrived in fine bone china cups, decorated in the English floral style. This was the sort oftableware our village parson would provide for eminent visitors. It seemed strangely out of place in this exotic location.
    I sat back to watch Evison negotiate. He had buckles, nails and cloth to sell, and from the start he made it clear that Spanish dollars were the only currency he would trade in. They started haggling over pepper. The merchant suggested twenty dollars per pecul. Evison offered ten and budged slightly to twelve. So it went on.
    ‘Spice above any other item, Witchall. Any Captain will prefer spices. Try not to pay more than a dollar per catty. Good cinnamon will always fetch twelve to fourteen shillings a pound. Cloves a little more. Nutmeg less. Mace is more valuable, and you’ll pay twenty to twenty-five shillings a pound for that.’
    I listened, marvelling at these facts and figures, accumulated in a lifetime’s trading. After Evison had inspected the goods, he bought several barrels of pepper, cinnamon and nutmeg. He marked each with an elaborate chalk signature over the lid and asked for them to be taken to the quayside ready for loading on to the
Orion
.
    Then we were taken to another house further up the hillside to look at some cloves, which we were assured had been brought fresh from the islands to the north. ‘They’ve a lot of them,’ said Evison to me, ‘and they’rekeen to sell at a generous rate.’
    There were four barrels, and the lid was taken off one so we could inspect them. Evison picked them up and ran the small woody buds through his fingers. ‘When you buy cloves they must feel slightly oily to the touch, leaving a little residue on the hand, and be easily broken.’ He snapped one open and held it up to my nose. ‘They smell fine, now place one on the tip of your tongue. It should taste hot, aromatic, so that it almost burns the back of your throat. A fresh clove has fragrance and yields a thick reddish oil when you squeeze it gently.’
    Then, much to the consternation of our host, Evison put his arm into the barrel as far as it would go. He pulled out a handful and regarded them carefully. Then he shook his head. ‘No, sir, we will not be taking these,’ he said brusquely. We left with only the merest hint of a goodbye.
    I asked him what had happened. ‘It’s an old trick the Dutch