Chapter 14: A passage to Egypt

Southampton. September 23rd. 1832
Captain Weser, master of the East Indiaman Ganges, wore a harassed look. “We were not expecting you to bring your wives and daughters, Sir Elijah. We thought the six members of the expedition were all males, and have accommodated you in two cabins.”
“I have only one wife, Captain, and my daughters are staying at Kensington Palace with Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent.”
It is always a good move to display one’s closeness to Royalty.
“The other two females in the party are the wife and daughter of Professor Crudwright here.” I pointed to the perspiring gentleman alongside me, already green about the gills although Ganges was securely tethered to the quayside of Southampton Dock.

Captain Weser flushed. “When I said ‘you’ I was referring to the expedition party in general, Sir Elijah, and not to you in particular.” He turned to the midshipman alongside him. “Find the chief purser and ask him to attend me on the quarterdeck immediately.”
The midshipman ‘aye ayed’ and disappeared at a run. Although Ganges was owned and crewed by the Honourable East India Company the discipline aboard was not too far removed from that of the Royal Navy.
Minutes late the midshipman returned with a portly, and puffing, man in tow.
“Yes, Captain,” the portly one gasped. “How can I be of assistance?”
“We have another three females to accommodate, Mister Lucas. Is there room for them in the cabins where the fishing fleet are quartered?”
The purser considered. “Hmm, if they be on the skinny side there would be just enough room for them, but if any are as large as Miss Dora Dumbledore then we will have a problem.”
“My wife will share my cabin, Captain,” I said firmly. I saw a grimace appear on the captain’s face but he nodded.
“Of course, Sir Elijah.” He turned to the purser. “Place Sir Elijah and Lady Greenaway in my night cabin. I will be on deck most nights during the first week of our journey and will rest when required in my day cabin. That leaves us two cabins, with two males and two females to accommodate. Males in one cabin, females in the other. Make it so, Mister Lucas.”
The knowledge that my children hobnobbed with the future Queen of England had obviously borne fruit.

Mimi and I had arrived in the port of Southampton the previous afternoon and had put up at The Royal George Hotel.
Mimi had been quiet on the journey from London after taking a tearful farewell of the girls. The tears had been from Mimi, as both Mollie and Caroline were so excited to be staying with Princess Alexandrina at Kensington Palace for several months they hardly stopped talking, and the name most frequently mentioned was ‘Uncle Darcy’.
“The girls will be fine, my love. Matilde and Patrick will invite them to stay with them, as will Rob and Bridey Crawshay. They will also visit Grantham from time to time, where not only Callum and Claudette will be available to look after them but also my sister Ruth, and her husband John.”
Mimi gave a muffled sob. “Now I know how my mother must have felt when she left Chloe and me at Blanchards, and followed her husband to war. I was only three years of age and cannot remember her, and to all intents and purposes Annette Blanchard was my mother. However, our girls are that much older, and will fret when not seeing me, and you, for eight months.”
I hugged her to me. “The girls will be far too busy to fret. We will be back with them before you and they know it – and you are the one who is fretting.”
“May God forgive me, but I would rather be with you without the girls than be with the girls without you,” Mimi said, and she snuggled in closer to me.

Ganges cast off from the quay on the evening ebb tide and made her way down Southampton Water towards The Solent. The vessel was bound for Calcutta, and Lisbon would be her first port of call, where the expedition would disembark, and then be transported to Egypt via Gibraltar and Malta.
By the time Ganges reached The Solent Mimi and I were the only members of the expedition on deck. The other passengers, all bound for Calcutta, had dispersed as soon as the choppy sea around the Isle of Wight caused the vessel to pitch and roll. Mimi and I had no problem with the movement of the ship, due to our frequent crossings of the English Channel between Dover and Calais, although I doubted Mimi would be free of mal de mer when we entered the Bay of Biscay.
In fact, the Bay was relatively smooth, I and Mimi remained untroubled by the motion of the ship, although the Crudwrights and Rowland Guest were all stricken.
However, on the fifth day of the voyage, with the coast of Portugal on view to our left, or larboard, as seamen would say, Mrs Crudwright and her daughter Georgina joined us on deck. Valentine Crudwright, still comatose with mal de mer, did not appear until a day later, on the morning we arrived in Lisbon.

We spent two days in Lisbon, accommodated at the British Embassy, during which time the Crudwrights recovered from the voyage, and a vessel was engaged to continue our journey to Malta. This gave Mimi and me time to get to know our travelling companions.
At first sight I had thought Georgina Crudwright resembled Amy Fairfax, Georgina having cornflower blue eyes and a similar shade of golden hair as had Amy. Georgina was also the same age as Amy when I first met her.
Alas, the look was deceiving.
Where Amy Fairfax’s blue eyes sparkled with fun, and her face wore a sunny smile, Miss Crudwright’s blue eyes were cold and humourless, and her face bore a permanent, petulant, pout.
Mrs Crudwright was many years younger than her corpulent husband, and appeared to be a demure, shy, and retiring sort of woman, who spoke rarely, and then quietly. She was agreeably formed, and walked with a hint of swaying hips.
Crudwright did not improve on closer acquaintance, and remained the self-important and discourteous blow-hard I had first encountered at the British Museum.

On our first evening at the British Embassy in Lisbon he dominated, monopolised, the conversation at dinner, having an opinion on all and any subject, especially those subjects, those many subjects, he knew nothing about.
I felt my inner demon twitch. ‘Stop his gab, before I gut him with a steak knife.’
Unfortunately, trying to stop Valentine Crudwright spouting his views was like trying to stop the River Thames from flowing and, like Old Father Thames, all manner of rubbish and ordure was contained in his flow.
Eventually he paused for breath, and the ambassador hurriedly called for port and cigars, allowing the ladies, the lucky ladies, to escape the omnipresent voice of Crudwright.

“Her name is Chastity.” Mimi said in bed later that night. We had just made the Beast, and I was in that glowing, comfortably drowsy, state a man reaches after being drained by a voracious madge.
“Who is named Chastity?”
“The poor woman married to that porker of a man, Crudwright.”
“What sort of parent would burden their child with the name of Chastity? It makes her a target for every man determined to prove her name a farce.”
“Her parents are members of the Society of Friends, and her father is a well-known preacher in the Chorley-cum-Hardy area of Lancashire,” Mimi said. She paused to check if John Thomas was still flaccid – he was – so continued with her information relating to the unfortunately named Mrs. Crudwright.
“Chastity has sisters named Faith, Hope, Charity and Patience, plus a brother called Endeavour. She was Georgina’s governess, and not long after Missus Priscilla Crudwright’s death four years ago she became the second Missus Crudwright.”
A faint memory of Callum Keane mentioning something about a governess and a professor at the British Museum, came to mind, but I could not recall any details.
“Being married to Crudwright I would expect her to live up to her name,” I said. “I doubt he stops talking long enough to plug her.”
“She probably does live up to her name married to Crudwright. They do not share a bed, not even a bedroom!” I heard shocked amazement in Mimi’s voice.
“Some long married couples do not share the intimacy of marriage...”
“The Crudwrights have been married for less than four years,” Mimi interrupted me, “and I hope we will still be sharing the intimacy of marriage when we have been married for fifty years!”
We exchanged a fond kiss and embrace before Mimi continued.
“There is more to demure little Chastity than meets the eye. I have seen her surreptitiously eyeing up the males, with a look on her face one would likely see on a wolf observing a lamb.”
Now I thought about it, Chastity Crudwright had something of the air and demeanour of Susannah Proctor, the rector’s wife at Market Laverton. Under her demure exterior, Susannah had been a veritable Messalina; could Chastity Crudwright be from the same stable?

Valletta, Malta. October 13th. 1832