Zachary was ready to fetch a doctor, but the Captain would not let him. 'Not goin't'a have no shagbag of a leech fingerin me taffrail. Nothing wrong with me. Just the running scoots. I'll be better the minute we make sail.'

The next day the breeze freshened and the Ibis duly stood out to sea. The skipper managed to stagger out to the quarter-deck and declared himself to be all a-taunto but Serang Ali was of another opinion: 'Captin catchi Cop'ral-Forbes. Look-see – he tongue go black. Better Malum Zikri keep far from Captin.' Later, he handed Zachary a foul-smelling decoction of roots and herbs. 'Malum drinki he: no catchi sick. Cop'ral-Forbes – he one piece nasty bugger.' On the serang's advice Zachary also made a change of diet, switching from the usual sailor's menu of lobscouse, dandyfunk and chokedog to a lascar fare of karibat and kedgeree – spicy skillygales of rice, lentils and pickles, mixed on occasion with little bits of fish, fresh or dry. The tongue-searing tastes were difficult to get used to at first, but Zachary could tell the spices were doing him good, scouring his insides, and he soon grew to like the unfamiliar flavours.

Twelve days later, just as Serang Ali had predicted, the Captain was dead. This time there was no bidding for the dead man's effects: they were thrown overboard and the stateroom was washed and left open, to be cauterized by the salt air.

When the body was tipped into the sea it was Zachary who read from the Bible. He did it in a voice that was sonorous enough to earn a compliment from Serang Ali: 'Malum Zikri number-one joss-pijjin bugger. Church-song why no sing?'

'No can do,' said Zachary. 'Ain could never sing.'

'Nebba mind,' said Serang Ali. 'One-piece song-bugger hab got.' He beckoned to a tall, spidery ship's-boy called Rajoo. 'This launder blongi one-time Mission-boy. Joss-man hab learn him one-piece saam.'