Isaiah had a new passion and a new concern. Having told Mthunzi he would write he felt he had to honour that promise but he had no idea how to manage it. There was no one on board he felt comfortable enough to ask to scribe on his behalf. His fellow crew members would scoff or at least were too busy.
It was a subdued Isaiah Mari met one morning shortly after they left Cape Town. "What's the matter?" she asked when he quietly handed over the boys' lunch. Usually they had a quick banter but today he hardly said two words. "Nothing, Miss Mari," he said, unwilling to burden the girl.
"No, Isaiah, you're not yourself. Tell me?"
"It's just I said I would do something but it's not possible. I hate to go back on my word," he explained without really telling the girl anything.
"I'm confused," Mari said narrowing her eyes. "What did you say you'd do?"
"I said I'd write someone back in Cape Town."
"Oh," realisation was dawning in Mari's mind. "And why can't you?"
Isaiah hung his head, "I can't."
"Can't what?"
"Write. I ain't never learnt see. So, I said I would write but I can't."
"Is this the woman who gave you the paint box?" the Mate had mentioned it to her shortly after they sailed but Isaiah had not said a thing.
"Yes," he admitted reluctantly.
"May I see them?"
Isaiah pulled the box out from under his bench and shyly showed the paints to Mari. "They're beautiful." She thought for a moment. "Could you send her some paintings instead of writing?"
The man's very physique altered in front of her eyes as he thought her idea through. "I guess I could do that?" he faltered.
"Of course, you could. She'd love that."
Henceforth in idle moments Isaiah could be seen with his paints and a scrap of paper committing a scene to paper. The ever changing colours of the sea was a favourite, or men working up in the rigging, backs bowed over the masts. He committed any sight to paper, dolphins surfing the bow wave or the bright blue of flotillas of Portuguese men'o'war floating past. After dinner, a lamp lighting his paints, he'd try to capture the stars in the firmament or the bright blaze the moonlight made on the inky sea. His became a familiar figure on deck staring earnestly at his subject and dabbing paint on the canvas.
For this leg of their voyage they had been compelled to take on board some passengers. "What on earth?" Marilla said when she saw the passenger list. "How do you pronounce that?" she said pointing. As it turned out Mr Deraniyagala told them just to call him Mr D when they were introduced, "for," he said. "I am so very tired of hearing my name mispronounced. Being amongst people who can say it properly is one of the things I am most longing for when I return home to Ceylon.
Mr Deraniyagala dressed very dapperly and spoke quickly with a sing song accent. He would spend fully five minutes each morning determining where to complete his toilette; wandering around the deck to find the most advantageous spot depending on the shifting position of the sun or the amount of cloud in the sky. The little boys following him in a sort of retinue. Hanging his kit from a hook he would remove the glass and inspect himself critically. He had brought a small cask of water on board with his luggage, not for drinking purposes he explained but for the management of his moustache of which he was inordinately proud. He poured some into a bowl every morning and washed his face assiduously, taking particular care of his facial hair. Then out would come the clippers. Not merely was his moustache neatly trimmed every day but he paid special attention to his nasal hair. He had a black mole on his neck from which sprouted one thick white hair of which he was also proud and to this he paid close attention. It, along with his moustache was macassared every day. Jacob and Johnny liked to sit crossed legged and watch him work. It rather amazed Marilla who rarely saw her boys so transfixed.
Apart from this burst of activity Mr D spent most of his day reading what he called the seminal Sinhalese classic, a text that looked more like ornate bird scratchings than writing as far as Marilla was concerned.
Their other passengers included Mr and Mrs Daniel Sprout from Johannesburg who were setting up a spice export business in Singapore; a young couple who had high hopes for their future. Additionally, there was Mr and Mrs Brownlow who were returning to Singapore after visiting Mrs Brownlow's parents in Cape Town. They were an older couple. Mrs Brownlow talked incessantly about their children now being educated in England and to everyone's discomfort she continually complained about their servants. Several other couples rounded out their passenger list which meant at night they sometimes had dance parties, particularly when the weather was mild and the sea not too rough.
Marilla enjoyed their company and sat out under the awning on deckchairs chatting with the ladies, while Mari kept the children occupied. Sometimes Isaiah might take some time out of the galley and spend it nearby sketching or painting. Mrs Brownlow looked askance the first time she saw him nearby causing Marilla to have a quiet word with her. The Captain had given Isaiah leave to practice his art where he chose.
At night they watched the gentlemen play at dominos, a game much enjoyed in the Orient or so they told Marilla. Quoits was also popular made more difficult on board the shifting deck than on dry land. Some nights they got up a dance, two or more members of the crew providing the music. There were more gentlemen than ladies, so the women often enjoyed more time on the dance floor than the men. Gilbert was sometimes dragooned into the affair which he complained bitterly about, preferring to be left to his own devices rather than dance with old women.
Now fifteen Gilbert was growing into a fine figure of a young man and he found the ladies' interest in him confusing and unwelcome. He preferred the company of the crew who treated him as one of their own despite his relationship to the Captain. His mother had drawn him aside when they first joined the ship and advised him against pulling rank. "It won't do you any good you know," she'd counselled. "Not if you want to make any friends here. Father won't give you any favouritism and you must make sure to show him and the other crew the respect they're due. They know far more about being a seaman than you ever will. I will be most disappointed if I hear of you taking advantage of your position."
Gilbert had taken her advice to heart. Naturally the crew knew he was a Blythe, but the only difference between them was that he was never in danger of being let go; the captain made sure he worked as hard as the rest of them. Sometimes he had dual roles, helping his mother out with the younger children and most of the old lags did not envy him that so it caused no rift between them.
The crew kidnapped him in Port Louis, Mauritius and he lost his virginity at the hands of an Indian temptress; a fact he never divulged to his parents. In a smoke hazed room draped with silks Gilbert backed away from a sari-clad woman, keeping his eyes firmly on her jewel encrusted belly button, until he came to a low-lying bed and fell awkwardly backwards upon it.
It was only when one came ashore that the sharpness of the Mauritian peaks became apparent, such a contrast to Table Mountain back in Cape Town. They resembled, Mari thought, the teeth of the lioness who had yawned at them that terrifying afternoon. Marilla took them out shopping in the markets one sultry afternoon and they marvelled at the exotic fruit and unimaginable vegetables for sale. Isaiah turned them all into intriguing new dishes with his usual skill.
Mr D grew more animated as they approached Ceylon and he started to tell them about its many and varied advantages. Turquoise seas fringed wide yellow beaches backed by lush green forests; the beauty of the women in their stunning saris. Of the wildlife; elephant, monkey, deer and most marvellous birds. He spoke with such eloquent wistfulness Marilla wished she could explore his home. One morning he came before her after his usual ablutions saying, "Mrs Blythe my sincere apologies that this did not occur to me sooner. Did I mention that I am going home to be married?" Marilla shook her head, strangely he had not. "Ah, silly me. Yes my mother has arranged my marriage and it will be held shortly after we make landfall."
"But we can't be sure exactly when that will be, Mr D," Marilla reasoned.
"No matter, Mrs Blythe. My mother will be able to sort it out. It would be my pleasure if you and the family and whomever else wishes to come would esteem my blessed nuptials with your presence."
"Oh," stammered a shocked Marilla. "I um, I'll see if we can spare the time. We weren't planning on spending long in Ceylon." At the sight of Mr D's crestfallen face, she added, "I will ask the Captain if we can make arrangements. I am honoured that you would invite us. Do you really mean all of us though? Will there be room?"
"Mrs Blythe," he assured her, "we will make room. We are expectingly many many guests."
"How many?" John asked later.
"About a thousand I believe," Marilla replied.
John rose on one elbow, "a thousand?"
"I know it's difficult," Marilla apologised. "But I couldn't refuse the poor man. He sounded so excited."
"He hardly knows us," John said in some confusion.
"Well I assume he knows us better than many attending. Let's go John, it might be interesting."
Interesting was an understatement.
It had never occurred to Marilla how different cultures managed weddings. Here it was a celebration from start to finish. Or at least she assumed so, they retired while the guests were dancing, showing no signs of slowing down. When they arrived she and John were parted, the boys were taken off to be dressed, apparently their own clothes were not deemed worthy. Marilla and Mari and even little Susanna were clothed in miles of silk. Bright pink in Marilla's case while Mari wore forest green and Susanna orange. It felt incredibly comfortable and suited the sultry weather perfectly, though walking was difficult in such a tight skirt. The silk deliciously luxurious against her skin. Mari and she kept glancing at each other in amazement. When they were reunited with the menfolk they found they were dressed in brocade encrusted suits with magnificent hats. The little boys strutted around proudly while John and Gilbert looked on slightly embarrassed. Mari was pleased she was not alone, she felt terribly white amongst the crowd, it was an unusual and not wholly comfortable sensation though she attracted only kind reactions.
The Blythes were feted wherever they went but shortly after they arrived the crowd's attention was diverted for up the road approached Mr D riding an elephant, its skin painted pink, trunk up looking very regal. Drummers accompanied him and the whole affair was very festive. Once Mr D dismounted masses of magnificently dressed drummers beat the bride and groom around the room. Not a church or in fact a holy area at all as far as Marilla could see. They craned to see through the crowd.
After a short but reverential ceremony the acrobats took over tumbling through the parted crowd and then dinner was served. The Blythes were embarrassed to be seated at a table close to the married couple. Johnny and Jacob were not seated for long before some well dressed little boys raced by. The lack of a shared language proved no deterrence and they chased after. No one paid any mind and the waiters elegantly sashayed around them as they served food. Marilla believed she had never tasted anything quite so delicious, she glanced across at Isaiah who had joined them, and mouthed 'take note' to which he nodded.
Between courses people danced and danced and danced. Marilla watched for a while until Mr D encouraged her to join in. He held his hand out to her and she took it willingly watched by an intrigued John. Marilla felt large and ungainly but the crowd were encouraging and her mistakes were smiled at. Gradually she felt into beat and let herself go. Step step, slide slide, step step, slide slide; they danced until the sweat poured down. Eventually laughing Marilla made her way off the dance floor and let John serve her a drink of water. "I can't recall the last time I had so much fun," she laughed feeling the weariness overwhelm her.
"Ready to go home?" asked John, Susanna asleep despite the noise, on his shoulder.
Marilla sighed happily, "I suppose so. Seems a shame doesn't it. It's all so marvellous, so exhilarating."
Later in their cabin, reams of silk folded in the corner Marilla could still hear the pounding of the drums in her ears. She fell asleep with the rainbow of colours in her minds eye. Just before they sailed Mr D sent an exotic bouquet of flowers to Marilla to thank her for everything. She received them with joy knowing she would never forget such a glamorous night.