Tai-Pan

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Struan ran hard. A few Chinese sedan-chair coolies were hurrying for Tai Ping Shan, and a few stray Europeans were scurrying for cover. Through the rain Struan could see the naval lorcha abreast of him in the harbor, scudding fast for Happy Valley under many reefs. The churning sea was dull gray-green. The dark line of a squall raced at incredible speed across the harbor; its edge caught the lorcha, tore off her mainsail and heeled her over. Struan braced himself and was enveloped by the squall. It lasted only a few seconds, but he felt the lash of the blinding, wind-whipped rain and was almost thrown off his feet. When he could open his eyes, he looked seaward. Amazingly the lorcha was still afloat, limping ahead with a mizzen sail, her decks awash, the tatters of the mainsail streaming aft.

Once more Struan began running. He arrived on his wharf at Happy Valley just in time to see the white-capped swell catch the lorcha and fling her against the pilings. A sailor jumped from the gunnel with the fore hawser, but he slipped and fell between wharf and ship. His hands caught the edge of the wharf and he shrieked as the ship slammed into the jetty and cut him in half. When the sea pulled the ship away, the sailor had disappeared.

Struan shouted to the frightened deckhands and raced forward. One seaman threw him the line and he made it fast around a stanchion. Another, taking his life in his hands, jumped and made the wharf safely with the aft hawser.

The sea was rising and the lorcha and the wharf pilings screamed, and then the lorcha was fast and men began jumping ashore.

“Make for the factory!” Struan motioned them to follow and he ran for the front door. He yanked it open, the wind tugging at him. The crew of eight men ran in, cursing and blessing their luck.

Struan pulled off his soaking clothes, then noticed Horatio and Monsey. “Great God, what are you doing here, Horatio? Hello, Mr. Monsey!”

“Never thought we’d see land again,” Monsey wheezed.

Horatio leaned against a wall, his chest heaving, and vomited.

The door opened, and in a flurry of wind and rain the captain—a young lieutenant—strode in angrily and shook himself like a dog. Struan walked over and slammed the door.

“By the Lord God of Moses!” the man said to Struan. “Have you seen the sky?”

“What the devil were you doing at sea on a day like this? Did you na have sense enough to use your eyes in Macao?”

“Yes, by God! But I was ordered to Hong Kong, so I came to Hong Kong. We’re in the hands of a maniac!”

“Eh?”

“That blood-mucked Captain Superintendent of Trade, Sir Clyde Bloodmucking Whalen, by God! That stupid Irish bugger damn near sank my ship with all hands. I told him there was bad weather and he just looked at the sky and said, ‘Plenty of time to get there. You’re ordered to sea!’ Thank God for Hong Kong.”

“What’s the sea outside like?”

“One more hour and we’d never have made it. Twenty, thirty-foot waves. But that cursed wind! It won’t veer and it won’t back—it’s impossible! Is it a typhoon or isn’t it? How’s that possible?”

“Because the storm’s due east of us and we’re dead in its path, lad.”

“Oh God, protect us!”

“Make yourself at home. I’ll see about some tea and grog for all hands.”

“Thank you,” the young man said. “Sorry for the outburst.”

Struan went across the room to Monsey and Horatio. “Can you make it upstairs, Mr. Monsey?”

“Yes. Thank you, Tai-Pan. You’re very thoughtful.”

“Give me a hand with Horatio.”

“Of course. Don’t know what’s got into the poor lad. He’s been moaning incoherently ever since we left Macao. Most peculiar.”

“It’s fright,” Struan said.

They helped Horatio out of his rain-sodden coat. His face was dirty gray now and he was almost helpless with nausea. Together they half carried him up the stairs and laid him on a couch in the west wing in the quarters that once belonged to Robb.

Struan went to the sideboard and poured brandies. Monsey took one, his hands trembling, and drained it. He accepted a refill. “Thanks.”

“Give Horatio some,” Struan said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He walked along the corridor onto the landing and then down the east-wing corridor. His suite occupied the south end of this floor.

May-may, Yin-hsi, Ah Sam and Lim Din were playing mahjongg at a small table in the expanse of the living room. Lanterns were lit and the flames danced cheerily.

“Hello, Tai-Pan,” May-may said. She picked up another of the bamboo-ivory tiles and slammed it down with a curse. “Oh stinky day, Tai-Pan!” she said. “My joss is terrifical bad. I have na won a single game. I’ve lost four hundred cash, and we’ve been playing for hours. Woe, woe, woe! I’m glad to see you, never mind.”

The rain battered the shutters and the wind was rising.

“Cursed noise! Can you lend me some taels? I’m impoverished!”

“I’ll take it out of your allowance. Go back to your game, lassie.” Struan grinned. “We’ve company downstairs and all around, so dinna go out.”

“Wat for go out?”

He returned to Robb’s quarters.

Monsey was looking better. He had taken off his soaked clothes and had wrapped himself in a blanket. Horatio was sleeping restlessly.

“God saved us this time, Tai-Pan,” Monsey said.

“Why the devil did you leave Macao? Asking for trouble. You must have seen the weather.”

“Official business, Tai-Pan,” Monsey sneered. “His Imperial Excellency Whalen arrived by frigate last night. He ordered me to Hong Kong with an official dispatch for the ex-plenipotentiary. In this weather, if you please! As if a day or two matters! I hadn’t the heart to tell him the ‘big news’ had already been printed in the paper.”

“What’s he like?”

“I’d say he’s rather trying. He sailed into Macao about midnight, aboard a frigate, unannounced. Within four minutes I was summoned aboard. He presented his credentials, gave me the Foreign Secretary’s dispatch to read—it’s word for word with Skinner’s story; how do these damned newsmen get secret documents?—and ordered me to leave with the dawn to deliver the dispatch to Longstaff immediately. Said that he would be arriving in Hong Kong forthwith, that Longstaff was to leave at once. That I was to see the admiral and general and tell them that everything must be ready for an immediate departure north.” Monsey plopped into a chair. “An Irishman. What more can I say?”

“Why did he na come direct?”

“Can’t have two plenipotentiaries here at once—distinctly against the rules, Mr. Struan. There’s such a thing as protocol, thank heavens. I have to take over from Longstaff right away. As soon as he’s left harbor I can inform His Excellency. Then

he will arrive.”

A gust of wind slammed against the shutters and rattled them.

“Blast the man. Nearly killed me. Things are going to buzz in Asia with him in control. The first thing he said was ‘That cursed rock can sink as far as I’m concerned.’ Oh, my word! If you don’t mind, I’ll turn in for a few minutes. I’m not feeling myself.”

Horatio began moaning again and then he vomited.

“Give him some more brandy,” Struan said. “There’s a bedroom next door.”

He went below to see how the lorcha’s crew was faring. They had already found the stores and liquor. Those who were not drinking or eating were sleeping or trying to sleep.

The barometer read 29.1, still falling.

“Good God, that’s more than three tenths of an inch an hour,” the young lieutenant said. He was tail and fair. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Struan, I’m Lieutenant Vasserly-Smythe, R.N.”

Struan shook the offered hand.

“Thanks for giving us a berth.”

A north window burst open and rain and wind poured into the foyer. Three of the seamen slammed the window shut and relocked the shutters.

“I think I’ll take a look at my ship,” the lieutenant said.

“Better come this way.” Struan led him along a corridor to a side window that was heavily shuttered but in the lee of the north wind. He opened it warily and peered out.

He saw that

China Cloud and

Resting Cloud were riding easily. The lieutenant’s lorcha was rising and falling with the waves, creaking and grinding against the pilings, and to the east there was no horizon. Just blackness. And the blackness was bearing down on them.

“Your ship’s as safe as she’ll ever be, Lieutenant.”

“Yes.” The young man took a last frightened look at the eastern sky and bolted the shutters. “She’s my first command. I’ve only been in these waters a few months. What happens in a typhoon?”

“The Supreme Winds come out of the gale against you.”

“What’re they?”

“Gusts. Squalls. Sometimes they’re called the Devil Winds.”