Dead Reckoning by Parkinson C. Northcote Page A

home even sooner. Our stay here is nearing its end, the chief event being the promotion which has deprived me of my first lieutenant, Mr Nicholas Mather, whom you will remember. The promotion was more than justified but I cannot persuade myself that his replacement will leave me with so little to do! It is all too likely that we shall have other losses and that I shall have to work harder as time goes on. You might suspect that I might as readily fall sick as anyone else but I never think that at all likely. I feel (wrongly, no doubt) that I am indispensable and that, whoever goes sick, it must never be me. I dread the moment, however, when I become, in effect, my own first lieutenant because I was never very good in that role and have been spoilt for years by having, in Mather, the perfect deputy. This is a beautiful country and I have been royally entertained by the folk who are stationed here. I have made a friend of one rather junior official, Thomas Raffles, who is clearly the government’s chief source of inspiration and energy. Some more senior men think of themselves as in exile from London or Calcutta but this is his first overseas appointment and he is fascinated by everything. He has a charming wife calledOlivia and a delightful Malay-style house full of native documents, and curios. With his help I have picked up some slight acquaintance with the Malay language and some slight knowledge of Malay institutions and folklore. All this may be useful in the months to come. But you will ask at this point how many months must pass before I begin the voyage home. The answer must be that I have no idea. In more cheerful moods I say ‘1807.’ When sunk in gloom, which is not very often, I groan ‘1810.’ I am now to be employed on ‘a particular service.’ You last heard the phrase applied to Sir Home Popham’s conquest of the Cape. On this occasion the service is different to this extent that only my own ship is involved. All else is secret and I must say no more lest the enemy should see this letter. Do you remember young Northmore? He now dons his uniform and wears his sword as acting lieutenant and I expect to see my other midshipmen similarly transformed, boys made into men with a stroke of the pen! I wonder how they will do as officers and then I remind myself that older men long ago had as many doubts about me, and perhaps with more reason! Mine was a chequered career, God knows, but I am now a grave and responsible officer, older than most people on board, and no youngster can imagine that I was once of his age and thought (at one time) to have no future at all. I shall reveal no important information if I tell you that I shall presently visit Malacca, for long the chief city in the Straits of that name, fortified by the Portuguese but now dwindled in importance. It is said to be picturesque and I may be tempted to portray its crumbling glories in watercolour. I have made several sketches of Penang but will notattempt to send them home. You shall hear of all these places some day when seated by the fireside at Anneville and our friends will mutter to each other “How tedious the old man is with all his tales of the East!” This thought warns me to curtail my description now and end this letter, asking you to believe me still, and always,
    Your most affectionate husband,
    Richard Delancey

Chapter Four
B ORNEO
    T HE LAURA was at anchor off the town and port of Malacca and Delancey was paying his courtesy call on the Company’s Resident, Captain William Farquhar, who had governed the place since its capture from the Dutch in 1796. He was a rather pedantic Scotsman, a little pompous on first acquaintance and seemingly embittered by the slowness of his promotion. His knowledge of the country and of the Malay language was profound and he knew all that was to be known about the local trade and commerce. He knew about Chatelard of the Subtile and gave careful thought to the system