The air at Southampton docks was balmy, sticky, and dirty. Merchants drove their carts up the streets, while filthy dock workers went about their business. The singing of drunken sailors could be heard from the dingy pubs, while ragged loose women shadowed every man on the street. Josh got out of his carriage, the salty air hitting him, making him feel tainted. Glancing down an alleyway, a couple of blocks away, he spotted his waiting steamer, the RMS Leonardo. Several dock workers hurried to and fro on the pier, loading passengers' trunks and sacks of coal for the boilers onto a crane, while the harbor master barked orders.
Josh walked up to the gangplank with his traveler's sack over his shoulder, joining the queue of passengers waiting to board. He looked up at the forward mast flying the Union Jack. He whistled aloud. This was a big ship, much bigger than the fish-smelling, grime-encrusted rust bucket he had arrived on. His eyes lingered on the crow's nest for a moment. He thought he saw a pair of legs dangling over the edge. Suddenly, a shrill whistle made Josh snap his eyes away from the odd sight. He rubbed his neck as the ticket inspector at the bottom of the gangplank, probably one of the ship's officers, shouted.
"Hoy, mister! We're 'bout to shove off. Move!"
Walking up the sagging, flannel-draped gangplank, which seemed likely to collapse and dump him into the foul, sewage-infested water of the harbor, Josh glanced back up at the mast and saw the man had left the crow's nest, scaling down the rigging, a sketchbook and pencil in his mouth. He stopped on the rope steps partway down. Then, to Josh's utmost surprise and apprehension, the man quickly spun around on the main line, his long dark braid whipping out behind him. He was going to fall! Just then as the man fell backward, he grabbed hold of the rigging again, by anchoring his legs between the rope steps. Josh just had to laugh at that acrobat. The man was upside down now. But not for long.
He flipped right side up, kicking his legs forward. He swayed on the rigging for a moment before swinging over to the other side of the rigging, so that his back was now against the mast. Then, he jumped! Grabbing onto the mast, this monkey of a man slipped down the mast and onto the deck below, amidst a mob of swearing sailors and reproachful officers who had seen his show and had come to chastise him.
Hurrying along the promenade towards the forecastle, Josh chuckled as the man casually walked away from the angry sailors, pulling the notepad and pencil from his mouth. Now that he was close enough to get a good look at the man, he could see that he was Chinese. His smile was hard to ignore, making his rather large, round nose seem smaller. His eyes looked almost like dark chocolate almonds. Above his eyes, his thick dark eyebrows stuck out like those of a meerkat's. His hair was long and he had guessed right at seeing the braid. His nationality was discovered from his face and the long-sleeved black Mandarin jacket with white cuffs and long straight horizontal fasteners he wore. He wore matching slacks and Josh could see slipper-like black shoes on his feet like a pair of gloves.
"That was some show just there," Josh said in an attempt to start a conversation.
"Oh. That? I was being stupid. Don't try that. You will fall and die," he said, light humor in his voice. His words were crisp and Josh could tell English was most definitely his second language.
"Oh, I won't. I don't think I have the limbs for it. Besides, riding and fencing are more my style." He extended his hand toward the man. "Joshua Cody, Deputy Sheriff of Northbrok, Colorado. United States."
The Chinaman took the hand. Then he first bowed his head to a flat hand, "Chen Ling, from Shanghai. China. I have been anxious to meet you."
Josh raised an eyebrow, "Have you now?"
"Mr. Burton's embassy enlisted me for the mission to Africa. It is always good to meet new people," he said, a smile on his face, his intelligent eyes gleaming. Clearly, he was more than just some nutcase acrobat out of the loony bin.
"Pleasure is all mine," Josh said, "I hear you're a scientist. A biologist, I think?"
"A school teacher, actually," he said, with an expression of deep pride, his smile growing. No doubt teaching in the East was held in far higher regard than in the West, possibly even sacred, thought Josh, "I teach many subjects, from English to Kung Fu."
Josh's eyes widened. The only fighting he knew was boxing, having been on the receiving end of several oafs in the ring and vice-versa. It was hard to imagine this little man knocking a 200-pound man with muscles of steel out cold.
"Really? That's interesting."
"If you are willing, I could teach you," he said, slapping the much taller man on the arm. Josh chuckled. He was beginning to like this Oriental.
They both went below. 'Burton had spared no expenses for this expedition,' thought Josh, as a skinny, stern-faced steward with a toothbrush-like mustache ushered them into their private stateroom, usually reserved for traveling aristocrats. Redwood paneling and furniture, linen curtains, Arabian carpets, and a closet filled with wine. The cozy little world, fit for a king, as far as Josh was concerned, feeling so out of place in his threadbare shirt and unpolished sheriff's boots. Another man sat at the writing desk, going over some papers.
Despite his chocolate-brown skin, which, at first glance, set him apart from polite society, Josh could tell this fellow had no doubt reached much higher in life than most of the former southern slaves he knew back at home. His dark hair was tight and curly but well-trimmed by a professional barber. Likewise, his brand new club-collar shirt, necktie, tweed vest, and trousers, complete with a pocket watch, gave the impression of one who had the rare advantage of the time of being treated as an equal, either by money or connections…or maybe Burton himself. Maybe the animal trophy collector had a positive side to him after all? Spotting the two newcomers entering, the black man walked over to greet them, his gleaming white toothy smile contrasting greatly with his dark-skinned face.
"Hello," he said, holding out his hand. "Sheriff Joshua Cody, isn't it?"
"Deputy Sheriff actually," Josh answered. "But you can just call me Josh if you want." He smiled as he took hold of the man's hand and shook it.
"Denzel Baker. Queens, New York." He also shook Chen's hand, "And Chen Ling, of course. Is this all of us?"
"Looks like it," Josh said lamely. Behind them, the steward, who had finished bringing in their luggage, bowed respectfully, giving them a slightly disapproving look, probably thinking just how out of place this trio of foreign riff-raff would look in these respectful parts of the ship and left. However, Josh didn't notice, too busy taking in his third companion.
Josh considered himself about average in height but standing next to this giant of a man made him feel short. It's not that Denzel was half a foot taller. He was only about two inches taller than Josh but Denzel was very broad-shouldered and fit. Josh noticed a small scar on his right cheekbone as he looked closer at him. He made a mental note to ask him about it later.
His thinking was cut short however as Chen spoke.
"I hear you know a lot about animals. Can you tell by sight alone?"
"Most of them, yes," Denzel replied, "My parents were former slaves, who escaped to the north during the war. A missionary taught me in his school in New York, and even helped me enroll in college. Later, I managed to secure a job at the Central Park Menagerie. I travel all the time, collecting data on the native species of different countries around the world."
"I've been to a few countries, myself. Mexico, Panama, Brazil, tracking down animals for people to study or to take to a zoo or circus," said Josh, with a slight twinge of shame at the mention of zoos and circuses. "My normal job is that of a humble Colorado lawman, but being a tracker helps put food on the table."
The three men looked up as a familiar trumpet, not unlike a cavalry charge sounded in the corridor outside. The typical British tradition of announcing meals aboard ship, Josh had heard. Denzel waved his arm to the door.
"Shall we?"
They walked downstairs. A steward directed them towards a small reading room used for private business conferences during the voyage – another of Burton's prepaid luxuries for their journey. The room housed a decent library, with several writing desks and some leather sofas to recline. Another steward entered with a trolley laden with hot meals and drinks.
Denzel plopped down on one of the sofas by the copper fireplace, letting one arm hang over the side of the armrest and the other resting on his lap. No doubt this was the first time he had experienced such high-class comforts. He splayed his legs out for a moment before sitting back up. "Anybody else hates these rich-folk suits?" he asked with a small chuckle.
Chen nodded, "Old China was smart. The suits at home are pretty much the same. Loose is best," he said sitting down opposite him.
"Alright, listen up," Josh interrupted, pouring three glasses of champagne and passing them out, "Before we propose a toast, I need to lay down some ground rules if we are to survive this little camping trip."
"Rules, like what?" Chen asked. Both the seated men were now seriously listening.
"I really only have one standing rule: We stay together while we're out in the wild. If you want to explore, it's all of us or you don't go," he said firmly. "If one of you does go alone and gets lost, you'll be fending for yourself, got it?"
"Yes, Mr. Cody," Chen nodded, using Josh's title to add formality.
"And one more thing," Josh went on, eyeing his companions. "You have to promise that, unless it's a question of posing a serious danger to us, you won't shoot anything."
"Beg pardon?" asked Denzel.
"No sport killing and no trophy collecting," said Josh firmly. Obviously, they didn't know about his Lakota upbringing, where he had discovered his heart for nature, so he laid it down pure and simple. "It's my code of honor that I only hunt for food, or kill as a last resort in self-defense. Nothing else. If you wanna study the animals, you'll have to study them alive, and from a distance. If I'm to be your guide, then I expect that code to be obeyed and respected like the Bible. Is that clear?"
"Glad we see eye to eye on that." said Denzel, obviously no more fond of Burton's hideous trophies than Josh was, "But why all the rifles and pistols on the manifest?" He handed Josh a clipboard from the British Board of Trade, which listed all their supplies and equipment for the expedition, currently stored in the ship's hold.
Josh made a mental note to go through all that stuff later. "Burton's idea of safety out in the wild, I suppose. But I, personally, really have no use for them. I'm a tracker, not a big-game hunter like he is. But I'm also being paid to be your bodyguard. You're the brains; I'm just the brawn."
Chen's smile fell. "Who decided this?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Denzel said, looking at Josh skeptically.
Josh swore to himself. He'd just insulted these two fine people, and they hadn't even gotten started. "I didn't mean any offense, fellas. I just thought…"
"That we're just scientists?" Chen supplied for him, "What part of 'kung fu' was Chinese to you?" he asked, thankfully not angered, yet slightly miffed.
"And I didn't spend four years on the Negro rugby team for nothing," Denzel muttered, reaching out to the snack tray for a bite, which was loaded with appetizing, aristocratic delicacies, including foie gras, caviar, smoked salmon, and liquor chocolates, all set in neat order on the silver platter.
Josh nodded. "Alright. Sorry. It's just that's what Burton instructed me to be on this trip. I'm sure you two are perfectly capable of defending yourselves."
"Maybe I should show Mr. Burton my kung fu classes," said Chen, his mood lightening again.
Josh couldn't suppress a smirk; pompous, sly Burton would undoubtedly end up looking like one of those salmon snacks on the tray if he went up against Chen's Kung Fu. He raised his glass. What should he say? To England? To the queen? To science? To adventure? Certainly not to big game hunting!
"To success!" The glasses jingled as the three explorers of the East Africa expedition toasted their journey.
"Too bad the British Crown'll be getting all the credit for our hard work in the end," said Denzel. "All we'll be getting is our pay and a good handshake."
"Oh well, at least we have a long, great adventure ahead of us," said Josh, "And the money's good, too."
Denzel laughed softly, draining his glass. He stretched and yawned, "Well, I'm gonna hit the sack."
"Alright," said Josh, "Just watch it when the boat starts moving."
Chen chuckled at the Negro zoologist, "You don't want to fall off the bed."
Denzel laughed again, "True. My girl back in Queens would kill me if I broke my nose by falling on my face. What are you two going to do?"
The Chinaman stood from his chair and said, "More climbing."
"I'll just sit here for a while," said Josh. "I'll catch up."
As the two scientists left the room, Josh sat on a chair next to the window, looking out at the open sea. They had long since left the coast of England behind, steaming towards Gibraltar. In an estimated two weeks, they'd make port in Alexandria, to catch their next ride inland. He didn't exactly feel excited, just more anxious than anything. But he felt somewhat ready; ready for another grand adventure. 'Here goes nothing,' he thought as he watched the waves slide by the hull.