 Sharp's Trafalgar, by Bernard Cornwell. Read by Paul McGahn. A hundred and fifteen rupees, Ensign Richard Sharp said, counting the money onto the table. Nanna Rowe hissed in disapproval. A hundred and thirty-eight rupees, Said. One hundred and bloody fifteen, Sharp insisted. It were fourteen pounds, seven shillings in Thrippme's Apney. Nanna Rowe saw a young officer, a mere ensign of no importance, but this lowly Englishman had a very hard face, a scar on his right cheek, and showed no apprehension of the two bodyguards who protected Nanna Rowe and his warehouse. A hundred and fifteen, as you say, the merchant conceded. I get older, Sahib, and I find I cannot count. You can count all right, Sharp said, but you reckon I can't. But you'll be very happy with your purchases, Nanna Rowe said, for Sharp had just become the possessor of a hanging bed, a teak-travelling chest, a lantern and a box of candles, a hog's head of arach, a wooden bucket, a box of soap, another of tobacco, and a brass and elmwood filtering machine, which he'd been assured would render water from the filthiest barrels stored in the bottommost part of a ship's hold into the sweetest liquid. Sharp had bought the goods, because passengers on the great merchantmen at the East India Company were expected to supply their own furniture. You will leave the goods here, Nanna told Sharp, and on the day of your embarkation my cousin will deliver them to your ship, and when you are happily arrived in London you can sell the items for much profit. Which might or might not have been true. But that same night, Nanna Rowe's go-down was burned to the ground, and all Sharp's goods were consumed along with Nanna Rowe. The go-down, not three hundred yards from Nanna Rowe's, did a fine trade, as passengers replaced their goods at prices that were almost double those that Nanna Rowe had charged. Richard Sharp did not buy anything from the second warehouse. He'd been in Bombay for five months, and had explored the city, finding companionship in the alleyways, and it was one of those acquaintances who, in return for a golden guinea, gave Sharp information worth a hundred and fifteen rupees. Which was why, at nightfall, Sharp was in another alley in the city, wearing a cloak thickly impregnated with filth. He joined a score of beggars, some horribly maimed, who, along with almost a hundred petitioners gathered in the courtyard of a house, and awaited the pleasure of the owner, a wealthy merchant called Panjit. After he'd eaten his evening meal, Panjit, resplendent in yellow silk, appeared on the veranda together with a second man, this one dressed in red silk. Nanna Rowe was quite untouched by fire, and as Sharp's guinea had discovered, was also first cousin of Panjit, the merchant who owned the second warehouse. Tonight they were choosing which men would be given the lucrative job of rowing the passengers and their belongings out to the great ships. The chosen men would pay for the privilege, thus enriching Panjit and Nanna Rowe even more, and the two cousins planned to propitiate the gods by distributing some petty coins to the beggars. A servant, who'd been guarding the outer gate, pushed to the crowd and spoke in Panjit ear. For an instant the merchant looked alarmed, but then he whispered to Nanna Rowe who just shrugged. Panjit shouted at the bodyguards, who energetically drove the petitioners back to form an open passage between the gate and the steps, and Nanna Rowe stepped into the black shadow at the back of the porch. There was a commotion. Then the outer gate was pushed fully open and Sharp stared in astonishment. A group of British sailors stood there, led by a naval captain, resplendent in cocked hat, silver-buckled shoes, and slim sword. He took off his hat, revealing thick blonde hair, smiled and bowed. Do I have the honor of coming to the house of Panjit Lashhti? This is the house Panjit said in English. The naval captain put on his cocked hat. I have come, he announced in a friendly voice, for Nanna Rowe and my money. My name is Captain Joel Chase of his Botanic Majesty's Navy, and I would be obliged if Nanna Rowe would come with me. His body was burned, Panjit declared, and his ashes have gone to the river. He's no more dead than you are, I, Chase said, then waved his men forward. He'd brought a dozen seamen who carried thick staves. Their leader was a huge man whose bare forearms were thick with tattoos, while beside him was a negro every bit as tall. You will leave my house now, go, or I will summon authority, Panjit insisted. Chase turned to the tattooed man. Sample complete. Ready to continue?