1:00pm This morning had a most interesting visit from Sir Graham Eden Hammond, Chief of the South American Naval Station. After an exchange of pleasantries he began by asking me about my visitor at the dance last night.
"Tell me Hindmarsh. Were you approached last night by a lady claiming to be Leopoldina Concepcion Iphigenia Branquinho?"
"I was, sir. Why do you say "claiming" to be Miss Branquinho? Is that not her name?"
Hammond chuckled. "Oh, it's one of her names all right. She has several others and is known by all of them to the British Government."
I nodded slowly. "So are you suggesting that she is not as she seems?"
Hammond chuckled. "Come now Hindmarsh, we are both men of the world. I think we both know what she seems to be and she is, I suspect, exactly that."
I chuckled with him, although I had no idea what he was talking about.
Hammond continued: "She is an agent of the common enemy of Portugal and England. I take it I do not need to name them?"
Here I was on safe ground. Take any two European countries at random - Naples and Wallachia, for example - and their common enemy will be the French.
"They have been interested in your Southern Australian lands for some time. If Flinders had not got in first then they would have set up a colony of their own tout suite. Been dark on us ever since!"
"But what has this to do with Miss Branquinho?"
Hammond grew deadly serious in an instant.
"This has everything to do with her. She is an agent of Government of our common enemy, answerable directly to their King himself. And there is nothing - and I stress: nothing she will not do to ensure that your colony is not established."
"But why?"
"If the southern coast is kept empty then there is room for a foothold for the Fre.... for our common enemy. Before you know it New South Wales will have them, with their contemptuous sneers and their overly rich sauces, at the gates of Sydney Cove."
I swallowed hard.
"Goodness me," I said in a voice that conveyed the depth of my true feelings.
"Just so," said Hammond, ominously.
We spent the rest of the morning devising a stratagem, but I do not look forward the 3:00, when this brazen Delilah will arrive.
Editors Note: On this day the Buffalo finally arrived in Rio de Janeiro, 3 days later than they might have without the detour towards the Cape. Over the following week the ship was restocked with fresh food, including fresh supplies ofthe Governor's hated sauerkraut, and fresh water. The Hindmarshes are recorded as visiting the Museum, the Botanic Gardens and, as promised, went shopping. It was during this time that the Governor first made contact with a woman who would come to cause a disruption between Governor and Mrs Hindmarsh.
Most pleasant time ashore in Rio, marred only by a slight tiff when my wife got her heart set on two little donkeys that would "be so dear to us" in the new colony and, I am assured, "so useful".
I pointed out two objections to her buying these dear little useful donkeys. First, if we add donkeys to the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the dogs, the cats, the ducks, the geese and the turkeys on board already we would look less like a colony and more like a toy Noah's Ark. My second objection was that the Buffalo is not a large ship and if we try and make room for her donkeys we might have to throw several emigrants overboard, something with which my wife seems able to reconcile herself. I have said "no" to the donkeys, but I suspect I have not heard the last of it.
After the pleasures of the past few days, this evening a most curious thing occurred.
The local Governor had thrown a supper for Mrs Hindmarsh, myself and some of the better class of passenger. During the evening there was entertainment in the form of a troupe of local dancers, followed by a festive collation of the local greasy, spicy food (though no sauerkraut thank God!) and then dancing.
I am not, perhaps, the most naturally outgoing of social companions and soon found myself sitting alone in the drawing room while other members of the party danced on until all hours in the assembly room.
As I sat alone and, I thought, unnoticed, I heard a low, exotic voice at my ear.
" You are Governor 'indmarsh?"
I swung round on my chair to see who addressed me is such an aspirated fashion..
It was a raven haired beauty: her black eyes blazing like burning embers; her features containing more than a hint of gypsy; her mouth full, sensual and scarlet red.
She was a picture in old Spanish lace and her decolletage revealed, perhaps, more of her charms than might be acceptable in the best London salons. She carried a handpainted silk fan that she used to refreshing effect. I recognised her as one of the dancers who had performed earlier.
She spoke again.
"My name is Leopoldina Concepcion Iphigenia Branquinho. I am a dancer."
I told her that I had seen her dance the tarantella earlier and had enjoyed it greatly.
She smiled and flashed a dark eyed look at me. "Ah," she purred. "If that is so then you must see my fandango."
Severely, I told her that I was an English gentleman and such Latin liberality was not for me. She was silent for a moment, then spoke again.
"Governor 'indmarsh I must ask if you can 'elp me. It is of the imperitive that I leave Rio as soon as possible. I must leave the Empire of Brazil. I fear my life depends upon it."
"My dear woman," I said, "I am sure you exaggerate. And besides, I am simply passing through this city on my way to a new colony. What could I do for you to help, even if your assertion proved to be true?"
She fluttered her long eyelashes at me in a provocative fashion.
"Oh Governor, if only my story was not true. How simple it would be then. But it is a story of dark desires, of forbidden love, strange lusts and hideous revenge. Also money. Oh, and of promises broken and vendettas sworn."
"Well," I said, "No doubt it is all terribly romantic and exciting, but really, there is little I can do, and I can hardly place myself in a position where my standing as Governor might be compromised...."
But before I could say more she threw herself at me, her arms around me, her heaving bosom pressed against my face.
"Governor 'indmarsh, do not say no to me! Do not condemn me to a fate worse than death itself! I implore you! I beg of you! I throw myself at your feet and grovel asking for your aid!"
And so saying she did just that! I was nonplussed.
"Please madam. Contain yourself. Literally so, in that dress. Arise from this recumbant position."
"I may only rise with your hands to assist me!"
I can take a hint as well as the next man and I helped her to her feet.
"Will you help me, Governor 'indmarsh? May this poor simple woman rely on the 'elp of an English milord?"
To get rid of the woman before I was discovered by my wife I said that there was little I could do there and then, but if she came to the villa where I was staying tomorrow at three, I might hear her story out and see if there was anything I could do. She seemed overjoyed.
"Oh thankyou, thankyou Governor. You may have saved my life tonight."
"Oh, surely not."
"And I will be grateful, Governor 'indmarsh." She gave me a meaning look. "Most grateful indeed!"
She fluttered her fan at me. What she was doing with her dango I was unable to see.
Surprised to say that the expected storms and squalls from the direction of my wife's cabin did not eventuate.
I used my secret weapon and told my daughters how pretty it was and how good the shopping was in Rio de Janeiro. "Why, it's a paradise of shops, And I believe I can spare a little money for each of you," I said. Like lightening they sprang into action with Mrs Hindmarsh and within the hour she was reconciled to the idea.
She told me that I was "a saucy fellow" and that "it was only a whimsical notion" of hers to go to the Cape.
And it was with much relief that I was able to tell the ship's company that we were no longer heading for the Cape, but were stopping at Rio for provisions and time ashore.
Of course now everyone is complaining that by heading for the Cape before we turned for Rio we have lost time and will arrive in that port well after when we would have otherwise.
Damn them! They got what they wanted, I made sure of it and I still get a kick in the arse. Typical whining passengers. So much easier with the crew. You give and order and they do it. Passengers - you give an order and they'll argue you blue in the face,
On another note, my sister Anne seems to be spending rather a lot of time with the lower class passengers - particularly the single men. When I suggested that this might be seen as improper she told me not to be an old fuddy duddy and she was simply trying to keep their spirits up on the long voyage. Still....
And another thing - exactly how many barrels of that damned sauerkraut does the cook have in storage? Breakfast, lunch and dinner I get served the muck. I have let my displeasure be known.
Well, I am going to say here and now I am taking my life in my hands.
I am going to stand up to my wife.
Yesterday, being Sunday, I attended Divine Service, where Charlie Howard outdid himself by preaching on Dueteronomy 14:1 Ye are the children of the Lord your God: ye shall not cut yourselves, nor make any baldness between your eyes for the dead. for more than an hour. The snoring could be heard above the wind.
After this I was heading back to my cabin when one of the emigrants approached me. She had with her her little child, perhaps about one year old.
"Look at my baby Governor," she said. "Look at his little face. How could you make my little baby suffer with not enough to eat, not enough to drink?"
"My dear woman," I said. "The decision has been made. There is nothing I can do."
But she was not to be put off.
"Yes there is Governor. You can change your mind."
And then her little child smiled at me. I realised what I must do.
"Madam," I said, "When your baby smiles at me we go to Rio!"
And then, as if as a sign, this morning one of the pigs gave birth to twelve piglets. The runt of the litter, whom I have named Wilbur, will not survive the voyage to the Cape. We must go to Rio to save Wilbur.
I will inform Mrs Hindmarsh this evening of my decision and expect the resulting storms to drive us back to the Isle of Wight.
Well, who is not Mr Popular?
After a day of discussion yesterday with the Senior crew where we worked out the details of course and the rationing, this morning I gathered passengers, the crew and the emigrants together - well, we made the emigrants stand a way off, because the smell of cat's wee and dog poo was a bit strong - and announced that there had been a change of plan.
There was many a dark look and a muttering and a mumbling when I announced that we would not be going to Rio, but heading straight for the Cape.
There were even darker looks when I announced that everyone would be placed on short rations and half water in order to ensure that we would be able would make landfall without starving.
Stevenson, who fancies himself Tribune of the people, pushed forward eagerly and struck a pose.
"The people demand to know!" he cried. "What is the reason for this arbitrary decision? The people must be told!"
"All I can say," I told them, "is that Mrs Hindmarsh wishes it to be so."
And at that point the crew, the passengers, the emigrants turned and saw Mrs Hindmarsh, standing on the poop deck, staring down at them all, her impressive figure outlined against the sun. As one their faces paled and they quietly stole away.
Later in the day a group of the emigrants came to me and said, with real feeling, "Feel sorry for you, Guvnor. Nothing you can do, eh?"
One of them gave me a sympathetic pat on the back and, man to man, we slowly shook our heads as we wondered at the ways of the world.
And speaking of the ways of the world I note that my sister Anne has been spending an outlandish amount of time with the sailors on board. Apparently she enjoys their rough company. Not, I trust, too much. Perhaps it would be best if I counselled her a little.
After my elation of yesterday today my wife had her revenge.
Our course is the usual one of Plymouth, Rio de Janeiro, the Cape and then South Australia. This allows for restocking the ship with fresh food and water and is an easy route to the new colony.
Mrs Hindmarsh has announced that she will not have me going to Rio. A libertine such as I am could not be trusted in the steamy fleshpots of Brazil. Her description of what she considered my likely behaviour amongst the Portuguese beauties I will not sully these pages with, but the upshot is that either we go straight to the Cape or she will expose me for the seducer that I am.
Of course the whole thing is ridiculous and I told her so, but she presented me with a written statement that she tells me she intends to give to Mr Stevenson and Mr Fisher.
"Oh John," she intoned in her fruitiest dramatic voice, "if you have an ounce of feeling left for me then do not make me do this thing!"
Truth to tell I do not have an ounce of feeling left for her, but I cannot afford that newshound Stevenson to get wind of her ridiculous story. Lord knows what he might do with it. And so it is now my job to go and tell the crew and passengers that we will not be landing at Rio as they hoped and expected, but will all need to go onto short rations so that we might make landfall at the Cape.
I am certainly not looking forward to their response.
A red letter day today as my wife was proved wrong AND I WAS PROVEN RIGHT!
The bee hive that my wife insisted on bringing with us was today opened and every bee had died exactly as I predicted.
My first thought was to avoid rubbing salt into the wound by reminding her that I had told her this would happen, but my second thought was to think "To hell with it!" and I rubbed salt like the devil himself!
