"I would not expect it. Although this year's monsoons are past and the river has returned to normal, there are new sandbanks. Every season they shift, becoming more treacherous. Only those of us who know the river well understand the moods of her sands. I have never seen topiwallah traders in Surat this early in the season." Karim paused, following Hawksworth's puzzled expression, then continued, with an air of condescension," Topiwallah is our word meaning 'men who wear hats.' We call Christian traders topiwallahs." He fixed Hawksworth squarely. "And we have other names for their priests."
"Call Christians what you will, but just remember England is not Portugal." Hawksworth's tone stiffened. "England has rid herself of the popery that still rules the Spaniards and Portugals. Along with their fear-mongering Jesuits and their damned Inquisition. It's now treason to practice Catholic rites in England."
"I have heard something of your petty European squabbles, your Christian rivalries. Is it your intention now to spread them to India as well?"
"All England wants is trade. Nothing else." Hawksworth shifted his leg, leaning forward to tighten the bandage. "I'm here as an ambassador. To convey the friendship of my king, and his offer of free and open trade."
"And after you begin this trade, what then? Will you next try to drive the Portuguese from our ports? So that you can steal away shipping from our own merchantmen, as they have done, and demand we pay you for a license to ply our own seas?"
"I told you we only want trade. England has no use for sailing licenses, or priests. Our only enemies here are the Portugals. And the damned Hollanders if they start trying to interfere."
Karim studied Hawksworth in silence, fingering his jeweled earring in thought as he recalled the morning's battle. Two small English merchant frigates had prevailed over four Portuguese warships, galleons. Never before, he told himself, have the Portuguese been humiliated before our eyes. Pigeons must already be winging word of this incredible encounter to Agra. Separately, no doubt, to the Moghul and to the queen. But Queen Janahara will know first. As always. And she will know her Portuguese profits are no longer secure.
And what about Prince Jadar? Yes, the prince will already have heard, hours ago. What will Prince Jadar decide to do? That's the most important question now.
"Just tell me about the navigation of the river," Hawksworth continued unable to decipher Karim's distant expression. "How long will it take for our pinnace to reach Surat? We cast off at sunset."
"The tide will be running in tonight, and that will aid your oarsmen." Karim instantly became businesslike. "There will also be a night breeze off the sea. But the Portuguese have no authority on our river. Once you are inland you are under the rule of the governor of Surat. . . . and, of course, Prince Jadar, whom the Moghul has appointed to administrate this province."