portent foretold the
destruction of Ayutthaya, the old capital of Siam. That if a man takes anything
in his hand and it breaks without apparent cause, or if his turban falls off of
its own accord, he will die.
Such auguries need not be invoked for
Edgar Drake, not yet. He does not wear a turban and rarely breaks strings when
he tunes and repairs, and as he stood on the deck, the sea reflected the light
of the moon with a glittering of silver on blue.
The outline of the
coast could still be seen, and even the distant wink of a lighthouse. The sky
was clear, and sprayed with thousands of stars. He looked out at the sea where
waves flashed with their reflections.
The following
evening Edgar sat in the dining hall, at the end of a long table laid with
clean white cloth. Above him a chandelier betrayed the motion of the ship. An
elegant affair, he had written to Katherine, They have spared no luxury. He sat
alone and listened to an animated conversation between two officers about a
battle in India. His thoughts wandered away, to Burma, to Carroll, to tuning,
to pianos, to home.
A voice from behind brought him back to the
steamship. “The piano tuner?”
Edgar turned to see a tall
man in uniform. “Yes,” he said, swallowing his food and rising to
extend his hand. “Drake. And you, sir?”
“Tideworth,” said the man, with a handsome smile. “I am
the ship’s captain from Marseilles to Bombay.”
“Of
course, Captain, I recognize your name. It is an honor to meet you.”
“No, Mr. Drake. The honor is mine. I am sorry that I could not have
met you sooner. I have looked forward to making your acquaintance for several
weeks now.”
“
My
acquaintance, really!” said
Edgar. “Whatever for?”
“I should have told you when I
introduced myself. I am a friend of Anthony Carroll. He wrote and told me to
expect your passage. He is eagerly looking forward to meeting you.”
“And I, him. He is, indeed, my commission.” He laughed.
The Captain motioned to the chairs. “Please, let’s sit,”
he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”
“Of course not, Captain, I have eaten enough already. You serve us
too well.” They sat down at the table. “So, Doctor Carroll wrote
about
me
? I am curious as to what he said.”
“Not
much. I think they haven’t even informed him of your name. He did tell me
you were a fine tuner of pianos, and that your safe passage is extremely
important to him. He also said that you may be out of sorts on this journey,
and that I should watch over you.”
“That is too kind. But I
seem to be managing. Although, without an Indian war under my
belt”—he tilted his head toward the men beside him—“I
am not much for conversation here.”
“Oh, they are usually
bores,” answered the Captain, lowering his voice, an unnecessary
precaution, for the officers were fairly drunk and hadn’t even noticed
his presence.
“Regardless, I hope I am not taking you away from
your duties.”
“Not at all, Mr. Drake. The sailing is
smooth, as they say. We should be in Aden in six days, if we don’t have
any problems. They will call if they need me. Tell me, have you enjoyed the
journey?”
“Enchanting. This is my first trip away from
England, actually. Everything is beautiful beyond my imagination. I know the
Continent mostly through its music, or its pianos.” When the Captain
didn’t respond, Edgar added awkwardly, “I am a specialist in Erard
pianos. It is a French model.”
The Captain looked at him with
curiosity. “And the journey to Alexandria? No pianos there, I
imagine.”
“No, no pianos,” he laughed. “But
quite a view nonetheless. I have spent hours on deck. It is as though I am a
young man again. You must understand.”
“Of course. I still
remember the first time I sailed this route. I even wrote poems about it, silly
odes about sailing at the cusp of two continents, each vast and barren,
stretching through hundreds of miles of sands and fabled
destruction of Ayutthaya, the old capital of Siam. That if a man takes anything
in his hand and it breaks without apparent cause, or if his turban falls off of
its own accord, he will die.
Such auguries need not be invoked for
Edgar Drake, not yet. He does not wear a turban and rarely breaks strings when
he tunes and repairs, and as he stood on the deck, the sea reflected the light
of the moon with a glittering of silver on blue.
The outline of the
coast could still be seen, and even the distant wink of a lighthouse. The sky
was clear, and sprayed with thousands of stars. He looked out at the sea where
waves flashed with their reflections.
The following
evening Edgar sat in the dining hall, at the end of a long table laid with
clean white cloth. Above him a chandelier betrayed the motion of the ship. An
elegant affair, he had written to Katherine, They have spared no luxury. He sat
alone and listened to an animated conversation between two officers about a
battle in India. His thoughts wandered away, to Burma, to Carroll, to tuning,
to pianos, to home.
A voice from behind brought him back to the
steamship. “The piano tuner?”
Edgar turned to see a tall
man in uniform. “Yes,” he said, swallowing his food and rising to
extend his hand. “Drake. And you, sir?”
“Tideworth,” said the man, with a handsome smile. “I am
the ship’s captain from Marseilles to Bombay.”
“Of
course, Captain, I recognize your name. It is an honor to meet you.”
“No, Mr. Drake. The honor is mine. I am sorry that I could not have
met you sooner. I have looked forward to making your acquaintance for several
weeks now.”
“
My
acquaintance, really!” said
Edgar. “Whatever for?”
“I should have told you when I
introduced myself. I am a friend of Anthony Carroll. He wrote and told me to
expect your passage. He is eagerly looking forward to meeting you.”
“And I, him. He is, indeed, my commission.” He laughed.
The Captain motioned to the chairs. “Please, let’s sit,”
he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”
“Of course not, Captain, I have eaten enough already. You serve us
too well.” They sat down at the table. “So, Doctor Carroll wrote
about
me
? I am curious as to what he said.”
“Not
much. I think they haven’t even informed him of your name. He did tell me
you were a fine tuner of pianos, and that your safe passage is extremely
important to him. He also said that you may be out of sorts on this journey,
and that I should watch over you.”
“That is too kind. But I
seem to be managing. Although, without an Indian war under my
belt”—he tilted his head toward the men beside him—“I
am not much for conversation here.”
“Oh, they are usually
bores,” answered the Captain, lowering his voice, an unnecessary
precaution, for the officers were fairly drunk and hadn’t even noticed
his presence.
“Regardless, I hope I am not taking you away from
your duties.”
“Not at all, Mr. Drake. The sailing is
smooth, as they say. We should be in Aden in six days, if we don’t have
any problems. They will call if they need me. Tell me, have you enjoyed the
journey?”
“Enchanting. This is my first trip away from
England, actually. Everything is beautiful beyond my imagination. I know the
Continent mostly through its music, or its pianos.” When the Captain
didn’t respond, Edgar added awkwardly, “I am a specialist in Erard
pianos. It is a French model.”
The Captain looked at him with
curiosity. “And the journey to Alexandria? No pianos there, I
imagine.”
“No, no pianos,” he laughed. “But
quite a view nonetheless. I have spent hours on deck. It is as though I am a
young man again. You must understand.”
“Of course. I still
remember the first time I sailed this route. I even wrote poems about it, silly
odes about sailing at the cusp of two continents, each vast and barren,
stretching through hundreds of miles of sands and fabled
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