The Concubine's Daughter (35 page)

She knew that things to be expected had not yet taken place. She thought back over the Fish’s advice. “It is a stabbing feeling that may make you want to cry, but you must sigh instead and tell him how strong he is. You may bleed from the wound, but it does not last. It is soon over and if you are lucky, he will go to sleep. Above all you must not cry, but smile and pretend to be floating on a golden cloud. If you want to please him, do not be hasty; have patience and pretend great admiration for his jade stem, treat it like a little god and wonder at its glory. Do this well and he will never seek another …”

They took breakfast on deck, where the thrush had appeared in the
rigging to sing its loudest. The smiling, silent, soft-footed Wang served her with the flavored rice porridge and steamed dumplings she was accustomed to, and Ben with scrambled eggs. They shared their breakfasts, and she enjoyed the orange jam called marmalade on toasted bread, while he was less than sure about the hundred-year egg that flavored the congee.

He had shaved on deck while she watched from her seat on the hatch, astonished by this ritual she had never seen among the
larn-jai
, who tweaked the hairs one by one from their jaw with dirty fingernails. When this was finished, he dived from the rail and into the blue, unruffled sea, swimming strongly underwater to appear ten yards from the boat’s side, calling for her to join him.

Li had taught herself a few scrabbling strokes under the willows but never out of reach from hanging fronds, or too far away from the
mui-mui
, who could swim like frogs. To launch herself unaided into the immensity of the sea was hard for her to contemplate, conjuring up memories of the river’s murky slopes and the swaying garden of weed awaiting her with open arms.

Wang suddenly appeared beside her, offering to let down a rope ladder. Ben called to her, “Don’t be afraid … the water cannot hurt you now. It is deep and clean and gathers sunlight like a looking glass.” Ben beckoned, splashing like a boy in a waterhole. “Come and see for yourself. I am here to catch you.” His strong voice was filled with reassurance and eager for fun as he swam closer to the side with a dozen plunging strokes. He looked up as though sharing her hesitation, understanding its source—his hair slicked back, his wide brown shoulders gleaming. “I was with you then and I am with you now.” He held out his hands to her. “Come, I will teach you to swim like a mermaid.”

Li felt her dread of deep water drop away with the shedding of her robe, as she jumped without another thought—plummeting feetfirst into a world of shifting prisms. The light rippled over Ben’s naked body as he moved cleanly through them to reach her—the last fragment of her doubt falling away as steady hands encircled her waist, his powerful legs driving them upward to burst through dazzling fragments of
crystal-clear sunlight. Within an hour he had taught her to swim the length of
Golden Sky
, first with his support, then with him close beside her, then alone while he lunged ahead, urging her on.

Over the coming days, Li took to swimming in the ocean with joy and fascination, plunging from the rail and moving through the cool saltwater with growing style and confidence, ever farther away from the safety of the ship and its dangling rope ladder. Wang, a nonswimmer, stood by with a life buoy, certain that it was
gwai-lo
madness to fling oneself into unknown waters filled with sea dragons and monsters of the depths.

One morning, she discovered the delight of floating on her back, to see through bejeweled lashes the vast blue sky with drifts of cloud and gulls skimming down to snatch a glinting fish from the sea. With Ben never far away, she allowed herself to drift alone, afloat on her own confidence and ability to survive. As never before, the trust and gratitude she felt for him created a buoyancy of its own, holding her steady for the world of sea and sky to look upon and admire. This was his world, where nothing dismayed him and nothing stood in judgment. It was a pure uplift of spirit that Li decided must have a name … and that name must be love.

Back aboard, the deck warm under her bare feet, Li felt an exhilaration she could never have imagined, throwing her arms wide to the mild blue sky. As though he knew that she had found the true wonder of freedom, and perhaps the meaning of love, Ben closed his arms about her to swing her off her feet.

“Now that you can swim in the ocean like a fish, you must learn to sail upon it; then you will have truly mastered the sea.” He held her, laughing aloud, as if he could not let her go. “A comprador and the
tai-tai
of a seafaring man who cannot sail is not worth her rice.”

He carried her aft, to where a small boat was slung from the stern davits under a canvas cover. Setting her down and bowing like a magician about to perform his greatest trick, he told her to close her eyes while he stripped the cover away with a dramatic flourish.

“It is a wedding present,” he said. “Designed and built especially for you.” He stood beside her to admire the truly beautiful little craft. Its eight-foot hull was painted a deep blue with white trim and brass fittings; and on its bow and stern, painted in letters of gold, was the name LEE SHEEAH.

“It is your name as I would speak it in English. No one need know its meaning but you and I.” His arm tightened about her. “I tell you, my dearest girl, there is no greater earthly joy than that to be found between sea and sky. I will teach you to find it and make it your friend.”

After they had breakfasted and Ben had listened to the news on the radio, she climbed in and he and Wang launched the little dinghy; she was delighted to see its sails unfurling a bright canary yellow. He sailed the little boat across calm waters with a skill that left Li breathless with the sense of freedom—skating across patches of wind that teased the surface, bucking lively wavelets in plumes of sparkling spray, playing the wind like an instrument with every pure note of nature’s music.

They swept inshore, following sandy shoals as clear as crystal and skirting the swirl of white-water reefs—so close the seabirds left their nests in noisy protest—going ashore on deserted beaches, to eat from the basket Wang had provided. They searched for oysters among the rocks, and haggled for fish straight from the Hokklo nets, combing beach after beach for shells and driftwood.

For three days this was their daily routine, and every hour taught her more beneath his steady hand—how to read the sea, the wind, and the clouds, and master their changing moods. By the end of the fourth day she could sail the dinghy without his help. Swimming and sailing, sharing every second of every moment had liberated Li’s heart more and more, yet she knew that this paradise was incomplete.

One evening had followed another with dreamlike perfection—blazing sunsets melting into velvet nights, a delicious dinner served wordlessly and inconspicuously by the smiling, barefoot Wang. She was becoming accustomed to the cool and fruity Portuguese wine. They talked of many things, mostly in English to improve her knowledge of
it, sometimes in Cantonese to increase his understanding of many things Chinese that still puzzled him greatly. He listened with rapt interest to her stories of the moon, showing no sign of doubt when she said her mother’s spirit sometimes resided beside Heng-O. His eyes never left her face as she told him of the Fourth Moon—a day when the likeness of Buddha, no matter how large and splendid or small and humble, was washed with oils and spices, sandalwood and musk, to see that his image is forever renewed, his health and comfort revived.

She told him of the Sixth Moon, when Lung-Wang, the Dragon Prince, was taken outside and exposed to the sun to ensure abundant rain. As she spoke of such magical things, stars were tipped into the sea like silver lemonade.

On the fifth night, Wang brought a silver bucket, with a bottle packed in ice. Ben popped the cork and allowed its bubbles to subside, half filled two long, thin glasses, and handed one to her.

“To the launching of
Lee Sheeah
, your success upon the water, and the beginning of your new life as a sailor’s
tai-tai
.”

Her first taste of champagne, Li would later reflect, was like sipping sunshine from a rainbow. He laid his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head to look up and into his eyes. “We spoke of the thing called love, and agreed that it can mean so many different things to different people… . So we will speak only of pleasure and trust, which can grow into love. I have waited because love cannot be hurried, and trust is not easily found. Do you trust me, Li, and know that I would do nothing to hurt you?”

The words she sought were bigger than she could yet express in his language, and she knew of no such sentiments in Chinese, for they had never been told to her. She hoped he could see her answer in the light in her eyes and the smile that came from deep within her.

“You must tell me if you are unsure,” Ben said. “I will not be angry. We are alone; we have no one to please but each other.” She nodded her head. Never had she felt more ready to become a true wife to him.

When they had retired together to the master stateroom, dominated
by the great bed where he had slept alone for so long, she was deliciously relaxed. For almost a week Ben had left her untouched in the way she had expected, except to take her hand in his. At first she had felt like a wild bird grounded in a storm, protected and gently tamed, until it found the will to fly.

Now, as he held her in his arms and kissed her softly, she felt her body tense with anticipation. It was the first time she had returned the pressure of his hand, running her fingertips over his scarred knuckles, stroking in silent fascination the hard muscles of his arms. His kisses, light upon her forehead and cheek, her closed eyelids, became more urgent. The warmth of his mouth pressed hard against hers, his chin slightly coarse as his mouth sought her ear, the hollow of her throat, the curve of her naked shoulder.

She felt herself yielding in his arms, breathing in the warmth of his freshly bathed skin, the tang of bay rum so much a part of him, ready to allow anything he wished but unable to let go completely her fear of displeasing him. His lips found her breasts—his mouth and tongue bringing her to a pitch that made her sigh in wonder. His hand left her breast to rest upon her belly, and she could not stop its trembling.

He did not stop, his rough palm grazing the point of her breast. An exquisite shock passed through her, releasing the tension of her body; her legs entwined with his, her arms locked around him, her face buried in the warmth of his neck. All that she felt for him was suddenly released, everything within her inviting his touch, urging him to be bolder, to hold nothing back. Her brave young spirit reached out to him in the pressure of her limbs, in the depths of a passion so long imagined, in the words she breathed so hotly in a voice impossibly thrilled by the wonder of him.

For several days, after greeting a rising sun from the bracing currents of the surrounding sea, they were content to rest in each other’s arms upon silken sheets in the spacious cabin—ringing for Wang to provide the lightest of delicacies and fragrant teas. The steward’s faultless sense of discretion was surpassed only by his unspoken delight at their happiness. The thrush, he said, had brought its mate, and now invited others.
The rigging at dawn was filled with song—an omen, he was certain, of endless joy, many fine sons, and a long and peaceful life.

On the morning
Golden Sky
was due to leave Pagoda Anchorage, Li left Ben sleeping, her bare feet soundless on the steps. The sun had barely left the sea, balanced still on a soft horizon, a gentle sun that touched their world like the wick of a lamp turned up by a slow hand. The early, peach-colored sky was softly mirrored in a tranquil surface that stretched away forever. It was the first time she had thought of swimming without him. There was nothing she could not do; she pushed away the fear of deep water as she climbed onto the rail, looking down at turquoise depths, lanced with glassy shards of sunlight. She shed the robe and broke the surface cleanly, the sharp grip of cold water embracing her naked limbs as she speared into bottomless blue, unaided and unafraid.