Tai-Pan

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Why go so early, Tai-Pan?” May-may asked, stifling a yawn. “Two hours’ sleep last night for you is na enough. You will lose your vigor.”

“Get on with you, lass! And I told you na to wait up.” Struan pushed his breakfast plate away and May-may poured him more tea. It was a glorious morning. The sun beamed through the latticed windows and cast delicate patterns on the floor.

May-may tried to close her ears to the pounding and sawing from the building that was going on all over the foreshore of Happy Valley, but she could not. The noise had been permanent and overpowering day and night since they had arrived three days ago.

“There’s a lot to be done, and I want to be sure all’s well for the ball,” Struan said. “It’s to start an hour after sundown.”

May-may shivered with delight as she remembered her secret gown and the beauty of it. “Breakfast at dawn is barbarisms.”

“ ’Barbaric,’” he said. “And it’s not dawn. It’s nine o’clock.”

“It feels like dawn.” She arranged her pale yellow silk robe more comfortably, feeling her nipples hard against its texture. “How long are horriblitious noises going on?”

“It’ll settle down in a month or so. No work on Sundays of course,” he said, half listening to her, thinking about all he had to accomplish today.

“It’s too much noises,” she said. “And something’s bad with this house.”

“What?” he said absently, not listening.

“It feels bad, terrifical bad. Are you sure the

feng shui is correct, heya?”

“Feng what?” He looked up, startled, and gave her his full attention.

May-may was appalled. “You did not have a feng-shui gentlemans?”

“Who’s he?”

“God’s blood, Tai-Pan!” she said, exasperated. “You build house and dinna consult feng shui! How crazy mad! Ayee yah! I deal with that today.”

“What does the feng-shui gentleman do,” Struan asked sourly, “apart from costing money?”

“He makes sure that the feng shui is correct, of course.”

“And what, for the love of God, is feng shui?”

“If the feng shui is bad, the devil spirits come into the house and you’ll have terrifical bad joss and terrible sickness. If the feng shui is good, then no devil spirits come in. Everyone knows about feng shui.”

“You’re a good Christian and you dinna believe in evil spirits and mumbo jumbo.”

“I absolute agree, Tai-Pan, but in houses feng shui is fantastical vital. Dinna forget this is China and in China there’s—”

“All right, May-may,” he said resignedly. “Get a feng-shui gentleman to cast a spell if you must.”

“He does na cast spells,” she said importantly. “He makes sure the house is positioned right for the Heaven-Earth-Air currents. And that it’s na built on a dragon’s neck.”

“Eh?”

“Good sweet God, as you say sometimes! That’d be horrifical, for then the dragon that sleeps in the earth would no longer be able to sleep peaceful. God’s blood, I hope we’re na on his neck! Or head! Could you sleep with a house on your neck, or head? Of course na! If the dragon’s sleep is disturbed, of course fantastical worst things happen. We’d have to move instantaneous!”

“Ridiculous!”

“Fantastical ridiculous, but we still move. Me, I protect us. Oh yes. It’s very important that one protects her man and her family. If we’re builded on a dragon, we move.”

“Then you’d better tell the feng-shui gentleman that he’d better not find any dragons around here, by God!”

Her chin jutted. “The feng-shui gentlemans will na learn you to sail a ship—why for’ll you learn him about dragons, heya? It’s very gracious hard to be a feng-shui gentlemans.” Struan was happy that May-may was beginning to be her old self. He had noticed that since she returned to Canton from Macao, and during the journey to Hong Kong, she had seemed piqued and distracted. Particularly the last few days. And she was right, the noise was very bad.

“Well, I’ll be off.”

“Is all right I invite Ma-ree Sin-clair today?”

“Aye. But I dinna ken where she is—or if she’s arrived yet.”

“She’s on flagship. She arrive yesterday with her amah, Ah Tat, and her ball gown. It’s black and very pretty. It’s going to cost you two hundred dolla. Ayeee yah, if you’d let me arrange the dress, I’d save you sixty, seventy dolla, never mind. Her cabin’s next to her brother’s.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Her amah is Ah Sam’s mother’s sister’s fourth daughter. Wat for is the use of a mealy mouth slave like Ah Sam if she does na keep her mother inform and have connections?”

“How did Ah Sam’s mother tell her?”

“Oh, Tai-Pan, you are so funny,” May-may cried. “Na Ah Sam’s mother,

me. All Chinese slaves call their mistress ‘Mother.’ Just as she calls you ‘Father.’ ”

“She does?”

“All slaves call the master of the house ‘Father.’ It’s ancient custom and very polite. So Ah Tat, Ma-ree’s slave, told Ah Sam. Ah Sam, who is a good-for-nothing lazy maggot and needs a whipping, told her ‘mother.’ Me. It’s really very simple. Oh yes, and to be absolutal correct, if you could speak a Chinese language, you’d call Ah Sam ‘Daughter.’ ”

“Why do you want to see Mary?”

“It’s lonely na to talk. I’ll only talk Cantonese, dinna worry. She knows I’m here.”

“How?”

“Ah Sam told Ah Tat,” she said as though explaining to a child. “Naturally such an interesting piece of news Ah Tat told her mother—told Ma-ree. That old whore Ah Tat’s a jade mine of secrets.”

“Ah Tat’s a whore?”

“God’s blood, Tai-Pan, that only a figured speech. You really should go back to bed. You’re very simple this morning.” ,

He finished his tea and pushed his plate away. “And I’ve nae wonder, listening to all this nonsense. I’m lunching with Longstaff, so I’ll send word to Mary. What time shall I say?”

“Thank you, Tai-Pan, never mind. Ah Sam will be better. Then no one knows except the servants and they know all anyway, never mind.”

Lim Din opened the door. He was Struan’s personal servant as well as cook boy, a small squat man in his middle fifties, neat in black trousers and white tunic. He had a round, happy face and darting, cunning eyes. “Mass’er. Missee and Mass’er come see my. Can?”

“Mass’er wat?” Struan was astonished that anyone would be so impolite as to come uninvited.

Lim Din shrugged. “Mass’er and Missee. Wantshee wat Mass’er, wat Missee?”

“Oh, never mind,” Struan said and got up from the table.

“You expect guests?” May-may said.

“No.” Struan walked out of the room and into the small anteroom. He opened the far door and closed it behind him. Now he was in the corridor that led to a hallway and to the separate quarters in the front of the house. And the moment he was in the corridor he knew that one caller was Shevaun. Her fragrance, a special Turkish perfume that only she used, had delicately changed the quality of the air.

His heart quickened and his anger lessened as he strode down the corridor, his soft leather half boots clicking on the stone floor, and turned into the living room.

“Hello, Tai-Pan,” Shevaun said.

Shevaun was twenty and graceful as a gazelle. She wore her dark red hair, darker than Struan’s, in long ringlets. Her full breasts, under the discreetly decollete green velvet dress, sailed over an eighteen-inch waist. Her delicate ankles and feet peeped from beneath a dozen petticoats. Her bonnet was green, her sunshade a startling orange.

Aye, Struan thought, she gets prettier every day.

“Morning, Shevaun, Wilf.”

“Morning. Sorry to arrive uninvited.” Wilf Tillman was exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Oh, come now, Uncle,” Shevaun said blithely, “it’s a good old American custom to wish a house well.”

“We’re not in America, dear.” Tillman wished he were, today. And that Shevaun was safely married to Jeff Cooper and no longer his responsibility. Damn Shevaun. And damn Jeff, he thought. I wish to God the man’d formally press his suit. Then I could simply announce the marriage and that would be that. But all this shilly-shallying around is ridiculous. “Give her time. There’s plenty of time,” Jeff is always saying. But I damn well know now there’s very little time left, now that Struan’s wifeless. I’m absolutely sure Shevaun’s set her cap for the Tai-Pan. Why else insist on coming here this morning? Why else keep asking questions about him?

All the way to Struan’s house he had been pondering the wisdom of a match between Struan and Shevaun. Naturally there would be definite financial advantages, but Struan was totally opposed to their way of life in America; he just simply wouldn’t understand.

He would certainly turn Shevaun against us, Tillman thought. He’d force the issue through her. Jeff would be furious over losing her and he’d probably break up Cooper-Tillman. Nothing I could do to stop that. If the company goes on the rocks, there’s no money for brother John to entertain so lavishly in Washington. Politics is expensive, and without political pull life for the family will be very hard, and we need every bit of help against the blasted Northern states. No, by Heaven. Shevaun’s going to marry Jeff and not the Tai-Pan, and that’s that.

“Sorry to arrive uninvited,” he repeated.

“You’re both very welcome.” Struan motioned Lim Din to the decanter and glasses. “Sherry?”

“Well, thank you, but I think we ought to be going,” Tillman said.

Shevaun laughed and her tilted nose wrinkled prettily. “But we’ve just arrived. I wanted to be the first to welcome you to your house, Tai-Pan,” she said.

“And you are. Sit down. It’s good to see you.”

“We bought some gifts for the house.” She opened her carrying bag and took out a small loaf of bread and a tiny container of salt and a bottle of wine. “It’s an old custom to bring the house good luck. I would have arrived by myself, but Uncle said that that would be in the worst possible taste. It’s not his fault at all.”

“I’m glad you came.” Struan picked up the bread. It was gold-brown and crisp and fragrant.

“I baked it last night.”

Struan broke off a piece and tasted it. “It’s excellent!”

“You’re not really supposed to eat it. At least, well, it’s just the idea.” She laughed again and picked up her carrying bag and sunshade. “And now that I’ve done my duty, we’ll be off.”

“My first guests will do no such thing. I insist, at least a sherry.”

Lim Din offered the glasses. Shevaun took one and settled herself comfortably while Wilf Tillman scowled. Lim Din padded away.

“You really cooked it yoursel’? All by yoursel’?” Struan asked.

“It’s very important for a girl to know how to cook,” she said and stared back at him, eyes challenging.

Tillman sipped the sherry. “Shevaun’s a good cook.”

“I’ll take a loaf a day,” Struan said. He sat in the big leather chair and lifted his glass. “Long life!”

“And to you.”

“Your house is lovely, Tai-Pan.”

“Thank you. When it’s finished I’d like to show you over it.” Struan knew that she was curious to find out whether the rumor about May-may was true. “Aristotle said you were poorly the last time I saw him.”

“It was just a chill,” she said.

“Are you having another portrait done?”

“I’m considering it,” she said, unruffled. “Dear Mr. Quance, I admire his paintings so much. Uncle and I are trying to persuade him to try a season in Washington. I think he’d make a fortune.”

“In that case I’d say you’ll have a visitor.” Struan wondered if the innocence in her face was assumed or real. He glanced at Tillman. “How’s business?”

“Excellent, thank you. Jeff’s coming back from Canton this afternoon. Things are booming in the Settlement. Will you be going back there?”

“In a few days.”

“I hear

Blue Cloud and

Gray Witch are neck and neck. One of our ships, beating up from Singapore, passed them two days out, going at full speed. Best of luck.”

While the two of them chatted politely about business matters, neither really interested in the other’s opinion, Shevaun sipped her sherry and studied Struan. He was dressed in a light woolen suit, well tailored and elegant.

You’re quite a man, she thought; you may not know it, Dirk Struan, but I’m going to marry you. I wonder what your Oriental mistress is like; I feel her presence in the house. Mistress or not, I’m the girl for you. And when I’m your wife you won’t need to stray for a long time. A very long time.

“Well, I think we’ll be going,” Tillman said, and got up. “Again, sorry to arrive uninvited.”

“You’re always welcome.”

“Oh, by the way, Tai-Pan,” Shevaun said, “I understand ladies aren’t invited to the prizefight this afternoon. Would you put a guinea on the navy man for me?”

“Good God, Shevaun,” Tillman said, shocked. “You mustn’t say such things. Most unladylike!”

“And you’re most dishonest,” she said, “and old-fashioned. You men enjoy a prizefight, why shouldn’t we? You men enjoy a gamble, why shouldn’t we?”

“A good question, Shevaun.” Struan was amused by Tillman’s discomfort.

“After all, it’s an Oriental custom.” She looked innocently at Struan. “I hear the Chinese gamble all the time, particularly the women.”

Struan blandly ignored the remark.

“Gambling’s a bad habit,” Tillman said.

“I quite agree, Uncle. How much have you wagered?”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

Struan laughed. “With your permission, Wilf, we’ll indulge her. A guinea on the navy?”

“Thank you, Tai-Pan,” she said before Tillman could answer, and she held out her gloved hand to Struan. “It’s just the principle. You’re most understanding.”

He let her hand rest in his a moment longer than necessary, then kissed it, fascinated by the thought of taming her, and escorted them to the door. “See you both this evening.”

“If I don’t win that prize, I’ll be livid. And also in debtor’s prison.”

“You won’t, Shevaun, but your poor long-suffering father and uncle may be,” Tillman said.

When they had gone, Struan returned to May-may’s quarters.

She stared at him coldly.

“What’s amiss?”

“That mealymouthed godrotting doxy’s after you. That’s wat’s amiss.”

“Will you na be so foolish and will you na swear! How’d you see her, anyway?”

“Huh! Have I no eyes? No nose? Wat for should I pore over plans of house, eh, hour after godrot hour? So it’s to be planned so I can see who comes here and who passes by without seen. Huh! That maggoty-drawers dung-heap doxy’s after you to marriage.”

“To marry,” he corrected.

“Kiss the hand, huh? Wat for you no kiss my hand, eh?” She slammed the teapot down. “Wat for you linger with cow eyes, hey? Ayeee yah!”

“You ayeee yah yoursel’. And one more remark like that and I’ll paddle you. You want to be paddled?”

“Mens!” She tossed her head. “Mens!”

“ ‘Men’—not ‘mens.’ How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Men!” May-may shakily poured herself some tea, then slammed the cup down and got up. “ ‘I hear Chinese mens gamble hugely, partikilly the womens,’ ” she said, mimicking Shevaun, lifting her breasts to give them size and waggling her backside. “And you sats there and eat up her busums. Wat for my busums you no stare at, heya?”

Struan quietly put down his teacup and rose. May-may retreated to the other side of the table.

“I na say nothing, never mind,” she said hastily.

“That’s what I thought.” He calmly finished his tea and she watched him without moving, but ready to run.

He set down the cup. “Come over here.”

“Huh! I for no trust you when your eyes speak green fire.”

“

Come over here. Please,” he added as sweetly.

She was almost cross-eyed with rage, and she seemed to him like one of the Siamese cats that he had seen in Bangkok. And just as spiteful, he thought.

She cautiously came over to him, ever ready to retreat or hack with her nails. He gently patted her cheek, and turned for the door. “There’s a good girl.”

“Tai-Pan!” May-may imperiously held out her hand to be kissed.

Restraining a smile, he walked back and gallantly kissed her hand. Then he spun her around before she knew what was happening and slapped her smartly on the backside. She gasped and fought out of his hands and jumped for the safety of the table. Once safe, she hurled a cup at him. It shattered against the wall near his ear and she picked up another.

“Dinna throw it!”

She put it down.

“That’s a good lass. One is fine. Two extravagant.” He turned for the door.

“I only say you to protect you,” she shouted. “Protect from mealymouthed, ugly, old cow-busumed doxy!”

“Thank you, May-may,” he said, closing the door after him. He pretended to walk down the corridor, then listened in the silence, trying not to laugh. The cup crashed against the other side of the door. The sound was followed by a stream of curses and Ah Sam’s name and more curses.

Struan cheerfully tiptoed away.

The whole of Happy Valley was pulsating with activity, and as Struan walked down the slight rise from his house toward the foreshore, he felt not a little pride. There were the beginnings of many buildings. The biggest two were the huge three-story factories of The Noble House and Brock and Sons that fronted on Queen’s Road—the vast buildings containing warehouses, offices and living quarters, favored by the China traders and similar to those in the Canton Settlement. At present they were just shells of peripheral bamboo scaffoldings soaring skyward, hundreds of Chinese laborers swarming them. And around these dominating structures were dozens of other buildings, dwellings and wharves.

In the distance, halfway to Glessing’s Point, Struan could see that work had already begun on the dockyard; a never-ending stream of coolies was dumping stones and rocks to form the first of the deep-water wharves. Opposite the harbor master’s small house, complete but for its roof, were the stone walls of the jail, three-quarters finished. And beyond the dockyard was the first of the army’s barracks and its scaffoldings.

Struan turned west to the series of large tents that housed their temporary headquarters. They had been set up on the outskirts of the valley. The church was not yet under construction, though Struan coud see men surveying the top of the knoll.

“Morning, Robb,” he said, going into the tent.

“Welcome back.” Robb was unshaven and there were dark smudges under his eyes. “You dealt with Aberdeen?”

“Aye. How are things here?”

“Good and bad. Can’t walk along Queen’s Road without a stinking swarm of beggars falling on you. And worse than that, we’re bringing in ten thousand Macao bricks a day by sampan and junk, and upwards of two thousand vanish by next morning.” He tossed up his hands violently. “And not only bricks—timber, desks, cement, quills, paper —they steal everything. At this rate our building costs will double.” He tossed over a list of figures. “A present for you: the figures on your house—so far. Three times as much as Vargas estimated.”

“Why so much?”

“Well, you wanted it up in three weeks.”

“For a thousand pounds I can damn nearly buy a fifth of a clipper.”

“If the

Blue Cloud does na reach London, we’re in terrible trouble. Again.”

“She’ll get there.”

“I wish I was so confident,” Robb slammed back.

Struan sat down at his desk. “What’s the real matter, lad?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The thieving and the begging—and there’s too much to do. And this constant, confounded noise. I’m tired, I suppose. No, that’s not true. Two things. First, Sarah. She’s two weeks overdue and you’ve no idea how irritable a woman is then, and the poor lass is frightened she’s going to die. Rightly. Nothing you can do to help, except say everything’ll be all right. Then too, there’s the business of me staying on. We’ve had nothing but terrible rows. She’s absolutely set on leaving within a month or so—as soon as she’s fit again.”

“Would you like me to talk to her?”

“No. Nothing’ll help. She’s made up her mind, and that—with Sarah—is that. Of course she’s delighted that we’re rich again but she’s still going home. The ball hasn’t helped—she’s furious that she’s with child and ‘fat and ugly,’ as she calls herself. Nothing you say makes any difference.”

“That’s ‘first.’ What’s second?”

“Culum. You and Culum.”

Struan glanced out the tent door at the harbor and at the many ships neatly at anchor. “He seems well enough.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Let that rest for the time being.”

“It’s a very bad situation. Bad for the two of you and bad for the house.”

“Let it rest, Robb.”

“I’m asking you. Please forgive him. Please.”

“Give it time, Robb.” Struan turned back. “A little time.”

“All right, Dirk.” Robb shoved his hands in his pockets. “What happened last night at Aberdeen?”

Struan told him, and gave him the indenture and guardianship papers. But he said nothing about Wu Kwok and Quemoy and Midsummer Night. Midsummer Night would come while he was still Tai-Pan, and what to do about it was the Tai-Pan’s decision—and his alone.

Robb was concerned. “Where are the boys now?”

“Aboard

Resting Cloud. I put them in Wolfgang’s charge. The men’re aboard

China Cloud.”

“We’d better get the boys home as soon as possible. If it becomes common knowledge we’re connected with those pirate scum—well, God knows what trouble we’ll have on our hands.”

“Thunder Cloud’s almost full of cargo. She’ll be ready to sail in four or five days. They’ll go by her.”

“I’ll send them to Whampoa today.”

“Nay, lad. I’ll take ’em mysel’ tomorrow. Safer. Too much is at stake in Canton, so I’d better go straight back. Do you want to come?”

“I can’t, Dirk. Not with Sarah so near her time. Why not take Culum?”

“There’s plenty to do here.”

“There’s plenty to teach him about teas and silks and shipping. Four months only to go.”

“All right.”

“What’s your plan for the men?”

“Wolfgang and Gordon to teach them English first. In three months we’ll put them in the clippers. Never more than one to a ship. Put that canny mind of yours onto how we’re to bend them to our side.”

“I’ll try. I wonder what devilment Wu Kwok and Scragger are up to. I dinna trust them a little bitty.”

“Aye.” Struan thought, I wonder what you’d do, Robb, about Midsummer Night—if you knew. You’d send frigates, I’m sure. And perhaps be sending them into a trap. Will I? I dinna ken yet.

Robb looked out the tent door at the building activity. “If God’s on our side this season, we’ll be far ahead of Brock.”

“Aye.” But what to do about him? And Gorth?

“I think we should reclaim part of the land from the sea and extend the wharves into deep water,” Robb said. “Might as well do it now as next year.”

“Good idea, lad.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Cudahy said hurrying up, “but you sayed t’ report immediately.”

“Come in, Mr. Cudahy,” Robb said. “How did it go?”

“Like a bloody breeze, sir. The mail packet were there like you sayed. I got a list of passengers like you wanted. We intercepted her off Pokliu Chau. She’ll be in harbor in three hours.” Cudahy smiled and put down a small mail sack. “Er, beggin’ yor pardon, sir, but how’d you know the mail packet was acomin’? She be a day early.”

“Just a hunch, Mr. Cudahy,” Robb said. “Wait outside, will you please?” And he began to glance at their mail. Cudahy touched his forelock and left.

“Brilliant idea of ypurs,” Robb said, “to put a lookout on the mountain.”

“Culum remembered, did he?” Struan was pleased and docketed the information, and was further pleased that Robb and Culum had put the plan into effect secretly. “How’d you signal?”

“We assigned one of the clerks, old Vargas’ nephew, Jesus de Vargas, to look at the mountaintop every quarter of an hour. Telescope of course, secretly of course. Culum worked out a system of flag codes. Now we can tell if a ship’s a mail packet, one of ours, or one of Brock’s or Cooper-Tillman’s.”

They went through the mail. The three months of newspapers and periodicals they set aside to be enjoyed at leisure. Books, music sheets, plays, fashion books for Sarah, shipping improvements for Struan, financial papers for Robb.

First, business.

The London market price of spices—ginger, nutmeg, pepper, cinnamon—had risen appreciably. On molasses it had declined. The buying price on tea, due to short supply, was up fifty percent—which meant, if

Blue Cloud was first, that their profit would be over two hundred and forty thousand pounds. Serious Chartist riots had hurt the capacity of the Lancashire cotton mills and Welsh coal mines, which meant that the cost of coal oil for lamps would go up and the price for cotton cloth would be higher than expected. The Calcutta price on opium had come down because there was a bumper crop. So Struan changed the orders of

Sea Cloud, one of his clippers in the Hong Kong roads, and sent her urgently to Manila to load spices instead of to Whampoa to load teas, and ordered her home to England with all speed via the Cape of Good Hope. Robb instructed Vargas to buy up every available yard of cotton cloth, yarn and sewing cottons, to unload all their stocks of molasses and to step up their order of opium to be bought at Calcutta, and unload their present stocks as soon as possible.

And before the mail packet was at rest in harbor,

Sea Cloud had sailed for Manila and their three hours of dealing had made them potentially forty thousand guineas richer. For in three hours they had cornered the market on available imported supplies of lamp oil, cotton goods, yarn, sewing cottons, and spices, and had booked up in advance all the available cargo space on all available American and English ships—outside of Brock and Sons. They knew that as soon as the packet anchored and the news was spread, buyers would be rushing to their doors to buy cottons and spices, and to charter ships to rush for home. No one would know, outside the brothers, that

Sea Cloud had the bit between her teeth, at least a day’s start, and would take the cream off the London market.

“Pity that it will take us at least two days to fill all our customers’ orders and get the Manila ships away,” Robb said gleefully.

“Sad, Robb, very sad.”

“I’d say that we’ve done a fine morning’s work.”

They were standing at the door of the tent watching the mail ship let go her anchors. Swarms of cutters surrounded her, packed with men anxious for their mail. Struan glanced over the incoming passenger list. “Good God, look at this!” He shoved over the paper.

Robb’s eyes fled down the list of names. They fixed. H.R.H. Archduke Zergeyev. “What’s a Russian grandee doing in Asia, eh?”

“Nay, na him, lad, though he’s curious, right enough. Finish the list.”

Robb read on. Wives of merchants, three returning merchants, names of men who meant nothing to him. Finally he came to it. “Maureen Quance and family?” He laughed uproariously.

“Dammit, it’s no laughing matter,” Struan said. “What about the judging?”

“Oh my God!”

Six years ago Aristotle’s wife had furiously boarded a ship in Macao for home, believing—as they all had—that Aristotle, who lived in mortal terror of her, had escaped to England. But instead of fleeing he had been hiding in Mrs. Fortheringill’s Establishment for Refined Young Ladies—the “F and E,” or, as the locals called the whorehouse, the “Fornicating Eels.” Aristotle had come out of hiding a week after Maureen had sailed, and it had taken him months to become his old self again and overcome the “vapors.” The traders ascribed his “vapors” to an overtaxing of his welcome in the house. He had denied it vehemently: “When one finds oneself in such an extremity, by God, one hardly has an inclination to partake of what—for want of a better word—I can only describe as quent. Delectable, to be sure, but quent. No, my dear misguided friends, terror and quent are not bedfellows.” No one believed him.

“What’ll we do?” Robb asked.

“If Aristotle hears, he’s sure to vanish. He’ll go up to Canton and then we’re sunk. We’ve got to find him first and keep him out of the way until tonight.”

“Where is he?”

“I dinna ken. Send out search parties. Every man. Take him aboard

Thunder Cloud—any pretext—and keep him there until we’re ready for the judging. Send Cudahy aboard the packet at once. Tell Maureen that she and the family are our guests—put them aboard the small hulk. Perhaps we can keep her busy until tomorrow.”

“You’ll never do it. She has a nose for Aristotle.”

“We have to try. Are you prepared to be the judge?”

“What about the prizefight? He won’t miss that!”

“For a portrait of Sarah, or one of the children, he will.”

Robb rushed out.

Struan glanced at his watch. He was not due aboard the flagship for an hour. He sent for Gordon Chen and asked him to recruit thirty Chinese to be watchmen.

“I think it would be wise, Tai-Pan, as an added precaution, to have watchmen on your house too,” Gordon said. “I’d feel happier if you did.”

“Good idea, Gordon. Increase the men to thirty-five.”

“I’m afraid most of the Chinese who have come into Tai Ping Shan are very bad people. Most are wanted for crimes in Kwangtung and, well, here in Hong Kong they’re beyond the reach of the mandarins.” He produced a parchment scroll from the deep sleeve of his robe. “Oh, by the way, I made an arrangement with the King of the Beggars for your ball tonight.” He put the scroll on the desk. “Here’s his receipt. Perhaps I can be reimbursed by the compradore?”

“Receipt? For what?”

“Three taels. This modest squeeze insures that none of your guests will be harassed tonight. I also made a most reasonable monthly arrangement with him—three taels—on your behalf, for beggars to stay away from the confines of your home and The Noble House.”

“I’ll na pay it,” Struan exploded. “I dinna care if Macao has its Beggar King, or every town in China likewise. We’re na starting that on Hong Kong, by God.”

“But he’s already here and organized,” Gordon Chen said, his voice calm. “Who else will license beggars? Who else will be responsible? Who else can one pay squeeze to to insure special treatment due to people of wealth and position like ourselves? I beg you to reconsider, Tai-Pan. I would most strongly advise it. I assure you it will be money well spent. At least try it for a month. That’s not too much to ask. Then you’ll see the wisdom of the custom. Certainly, too, it will protect your property, for the beggars will inform on thieves. It’s very necessary, believe me.”

“Very well,” Struan said at length, “but one month, no more.” He initialed the receipt, knowing that there would be a permanent fee to the Beggar King. There was no way to fight the custom—except by excluding all Chinese from Hong Kong.

“You can get this from Chen Sheng tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“What gives this particular man the right to be King of the Beggars, eh?”

“I suppose the others trust him, Tai-Pan.” Gordon Chen made a mental note to talk to the man this afternoon to make certain all went as planned for the next month. He was very pleased, not only with the very low rate of squeeze that he had negotiated on Struan’s account—two taels for tonight and two taels a month, the balance of one tael to be his own rightful squeeze—but also with his own foresight in asking Jin-qua to provide a “King” from Canton. This man was the younger brother of the Beggar King of Canton, which meant he was a professional, a man well versed in the methods of extracting the most with the least effort. And this man had, of course, been inducted as a lesser Hung Mun official into the Hong Kong lodge. A perfect arrangement, Gordon told himself. The squeeze from the beggars would be a valuable and permanent part of the tong’s revenues. Then he heard his father ask the question he had been waiting for.

“Have you heard of the Triads, Gordon?”

“I read the proclamation, of course,” Gordon said calmly. “Why?”

“Do you know anything about them?”

“Well, Tai-Pan, I’ve heard that, historically, secret societies have always been a form of defense against foreign intruders. That they have many names.”

“Keep your ears open and keep me informed, privately, about their doings, if any. Another thing, I’ve twenty Chinese recruits for my fleet. I’m going to try to train them as mates. You’re to work with Mr. Mauss to teach them English. And ten others are to go to England to train as shipbuilders.”

“Yes, sir.” Gordon beamed. Thirty men. Of course, thirty new Triads. Yes, the name Triads had a nice sound to it, better than Hung Mun. And twenty such men, strateg

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cally placed in the ships of The Noble House, would be an enormously valuable addition to the power of the lodge. He felt enormously pleased with himself. Recruitment had been going very well. All Triad servants had been placed under his control—for of course, ever since the barbarian had been in Asia, the servants had been hand-picked Triad members. Next, Gordon was going to fo:m a guild of ships’ coolies, all of whom would be Triads. The Laborers’ Guild was already well under way. Soon all labor and all Chinese on Hong Kong would be paying members—for the glory of their country and to the common good. Yes, he told himself excitedly, here in Hong Kong, free from fear of the mandarins, we will become the most powerful lodge in China. And when we throw out the Manchus, the leadership of the lodge will be in the forecourt of those in the new emperor’s debt. Death to the Ch’ings—hurry the time of the rightful rulers, our previous Chinese dynasty, the Mings. “When can I start?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Excellent. You can be sure of my interest.” He bowed slightly. “Perhaps, at your convenience, I might be allowed to kowtow and pay my respects to the Lady T’chung. And the children. I haven’t seen them for many months.”

“Of course, Gordon,” Struan said. “Come tomorrow at noon. Why not start weekly lessons again? I think it would be good for her.”

“I would enjoy that. And talking with the children.” Gordon withdrew two more scrolls from his sleeve. “I have the accounts for last month on our private arrangement. Would you like to go over the figures?”

“Aye.”

Gordon opened the scrolls. One was written in characters, the other in English. “I’m happy to report, Tai-Pan, that based on an initial investment of ten thousand dollars we have a joint profit of six thousand and fifty-eight dollars and forty-two cents.”

Struan’s eyes widened. “That’s quite a profit for one month’s trading.”

“I am rather proud too. Our investments in land are excellent, also. They promise great profit.”

“But you did na buy any land.”

“Not at your land sale. But, er, I’ve been buying parcels in the Tai Ping Shan settlement. They were approved by the, er, Land Office last week. And we own substantial lots around the village of Aberdeen and Deepwater Bay.”

“But they have na been offered for sale yet.”

“These are, er, locally held lands, Tai-Pan. Ancient rights. I’ve bought up all the deeds that exist, at least all that I’ve found to exist this far.”

“But they’re na legal, lad. All land’s invested in the Crown.”

“Yes. But of course some arrangement would have to be made to, er, compensate the local village. It’s been here for years, and, well, the Crown is magnanimous.” His eyes were guileless. “Mr. Culum seemed to think that His Excellency would look favorably on deeds that are, er, ‘validated’ I think is the word, by the village elders.”

I wonder how much of the “deeded” land does na belong to village or man and never has, Struan asked himself. “All ‘our’ deeds are ‘validated’?”

“Oh absolutely, Tai-Pan. Very carefully. Otherwise they would be quite valueless, wouldn’t they?” Gordon smiled. “Our holdings are in the names of, er, our various ‘appointees,’ and we do not, naturally, hold any land openly. Only the prime deed. The other subdeed and sub-sub and sub-sub-subdeeds can be subject to the closest scrutiny. I have been suitably cautious.”

“I’d say there’s a great future for you in business, Gordon.” He went through the balance sheet thoroughly. “What’s this item? Two thousand nine hundred and seventy-eight dollars?”

“Rents from our property in Tai Ping Shan.”

“You’ve made a mistake. According to your dates, this account covers a rent period of two months and you’ve only owned the land for one month.”

“Well, Tai-Pan, as soon as the Chinese began to settle on our land in Tai Ping Shan, I began to charge them a service rent. That we didn’t actually acquire the land for one month afterward is not their worry. Is it?”

“Nay. Except that that’s fraud.”

“Oh no, sir. Not according to the facts. The incoming tenant of course wanted the best land available to rent. We took a down payment—giving him the use of the land in advance in good faith. He was happy because he was paying ‘rent,’ for of course everyone has to pay rent. This amount is really a charge for service. I went to a great deal of risk to perform the service for them. If I hadn’t managed to buy the lot and thus give them the benefit of a long lease, why, surely they would have fallen into the hands of usurers, thieves and brigands.”

Struan grunted. “What do you plan to do with the rest of the money?”

“If I may ask your patience, I would like to leave that to next month. I will continue to draw on the credit you were kind enough to arrange for me, but with great caution.”

Struan rolled up the scroll and handed it back.

“Oh no, Tai-Pan. That’s your copy.”

“Very well.”

Struan thought a moment; then he said delicately, “I’ve heard that Chinese are accustomed to borrowing monies at very high rates of interest. I trust that none of our investments will be so used.” His eyes fixed on Gordon’s. There was a long silence. “Usury is bad business.”

“The lending of money is very important business.”

“At reasonable rates of interest.”

Gordon toyed with the end of his queue. “One percent under the usual?”

“Two.”

“One and a half would be very, very fair.”

“Aye. Very fair. You’re a clever businessman, Gordon. Perhaps next year I might improve the limit of credit.”

“I will endeavor to make a superb profit against your decision.”

“I’d wager you will too, Gordon,” Struan said. He glanced out the tent door and was surprised to see that the marine master-at-arms was hurrying toward them.

“Mr. Struan?” The master-at-arms saluted crisply. “His Excellency’s compliments, will you join him on the flagship right smartly.”

Struan looked at his watch. He was not late, but he said nothing other than “Of course.”