A Flower for the Queen: A Historical Novel by Caroline Vermalle, Ryan von Ruben Read Free Book Online Page B

collier crewed by a hundred of the roughest men he had ever set eyes upon, “I am sure your voyage to the Cape will be a great success. We have every confidence in you! Don’t we, sir?”
    “It’s not the Cape that will test Mr Masson’s mettle, Simmons, but his return to England as a successful adventurer!” corrected Boulton. He then added a little wearily, “All that fame and fortune can change a man, all right.”
    Suddenly, the already noisy dock was plunged into cacophony as a carriage careened at full speed along the dockside, scattering men and cargo in all directions, accompanied by curses that turned the salty air blue. Masson saw the head of Sir Joseph Banks protruding from the side window cursing at the slower moving pedestrians. Catching sight of Masson, he bellowed, “Masson, wait!”
    The carriage slowed in front of the three men as the coachman pulled violently on the reins. Banks, not waiting for it to stop completely, fumbled with the door latch before flinging it open, almost knocking Simmons unconscious in the process. Peering inside the open carriage, Masson noted piles of documents scattered around Banks, who looked as if he had just come from the breakfast table — he was still dressed in a blue silk banyan and was wearing stockings and slippers instead of shoes. He looked haggard and annoyed and seemed to be searching for something amongst the piles of papers.
    “Things have changed,” he blustered as he motioned for Masson to join him inside the carriage.
    As he looked around for somewhere to sit, Masson dared to hope that perhaps Banks was here to deliver the news that he was not to be going after all. But before he could even begin to hope, Simmons slammed the carriage door, sending Masson tumbling into the far corner opposite Banks.
    “Lord Sandwich and I were talking last night, Masson,” explained Banks without even looking up. “And you know I think him a man with a supremely scientific mind.”
    “Sir?” Masson stammered, remembering only that the two seemed ready to strangle each other when last he had seen them together.
    Banks, still searching, motioned for Masson to stand up from his seat, whereupon Banks exclaimed, “Ah ha!” He retrieved a document that Masson had been sitting on and opened it out on his lap. It was a map of the Cape of Good Hope.
    “As I was saying, I was talking to Lord Sandwich last night, and we are in full agreement.”
    “Yes, sir,” Masson said, waiting for the news that would send him back to his safe and careful life in fragrant bosom of Kew Gardens.
    “Here. The Dutch colony is here: Cape Town. Here, about a day’s ride, is False Bay. Can you see?” Banks’s finger stabbed at the jagged outline of a deep bay at the tip of the continent.
    “The retrieval of the Queen’s flower is your primary objective, of course, but first I would ask that you take a survey of this area, as soon as you arrive. It should not take you long — a day or two at the most.”
    A beat passed as Masson realised that he was not to be dismissed after all. “Very well, sir,” he said, trying to hide the disappointment from his voice.
    “False Bay,” repeated Banks, as if to be sure that Masson had understood. “Particularly the area around Muyssenberg and Simon’s Town. This is where you must go and explore right away without delay.
    “It is here that there are innumerable species of plants yet to be described, and so you will report to me everything which is useful for the advancement of science. Plant life, of course, but also geography, weather patterns, fauna, hydrology — very important, hydrology, you know, water points, streams, et cetera. And don’t forget to make a note of human habitation, encampments, roads and that sort of thing. Our maps are a bit out of date, and we wouldn’t want to record the location of the Queen’s flower in the wrong place now, would we?”
    “No, sir.”
    “You will be keeping your own journal, of course,”