Tai-Pan

CHAPTER FOUR

Struan was eating dinner alone in the spacious dining room of their stately factory in the Canton Settlement. The vast three-story mansion had been built by the East India Company forty years ago. Struan had always coveted it as a perfect setting for The Noble House. Eight years ago he had bought it.

The dining room was on the second floor facing the Pearl River. Below this floor was a labyrinth of offices and warehouses and storerooms. Above were living quarters, and the Tai-Pan’s private rooms, carefully separate. There were courtyards and walks and suites and dormitories within and throughout its length. Forty to fifty Portuguese clerks lived and worked in the building, ten to fifteen Europeans. A hundred Chinese menservants. Women servants were not allowed by Chinese law.

Struan pushed his carved chair away from the table and irritably lit a cheroot. A huge fire warmed the marble that sheathed the walls and floor. The table could seat forty and the silver was Georgian, the chandelier crystal and bright with candles. He walked over to a window and looked down at the traders strolling in the garden below.

Beyond the garden was a square that ran the length of the Settlement and adjoined the wharf at the riverbank. The square was, as usual, teeming with Chinese hawkers, bystanders, sellers and buyers, soothsayers, letter writers, beggars and dogs. Outside their factories it was only in the English Garden, as it was called, that the merchants could move about in relative peace. Chinese, other than servants, were forbidden the garden and the factories. There were thirteen buildings in the colonnaded terrace that ran the length of the Settlement but for two narrow lanes—Hog Street and Old China Lane. Only Struan and Brock owned complete buildings. The other traders shared the remainder, taking space to suit their needs, and paid rent to the East India Company, which had built the Settlement a century ago.

On the north the Settlement was bounded by Thirteen Factory Street. The walls of Canton City were a quarter of a mile away. Between the city walls and the Settlement was an anthill of houses and hovels. The river was congested with the inevitable floating towns of the boat people. And over all was the perpetual pulsating, singsong murmur suggesting an enormous beehive.

To one side of the garden Struan noticed Brock deep in conversation with Cooper and Tillman. He wondered if they were explaining the intricacies of the Spanish tea-opium sale to Brock. Good luck to them, he thought without rancor. All is fair in love and trade.

“Where the godrotting hell is Jin-qua?” he said out loud.

For twenty-four days Struan had tried to see Jin-qua, but each day his messenger returned to the Settlement with the same reply: “Him no dooa back all same. You wait can. Tomollow he dooa back to Canton never mind.”

Culum had spent ten days in the Canton Settlement with him. On the eleventh day an urgent message had come from Longstaff asking Culum to return to Hong Kong: There were problems about the land sale.

Along with Longstaff’s message was a letter from Robb. Robb wrote that Skinner’s editorial about the Struan bankruptcy had provoked consternation among the traders, and most had sent immediate dispatches home spreading their money through various banks; that most were waiting for the thirtieth day; that no credit was to be had, and all the suggestions he had made to Brock’s enemies were fruitless; that the navy had been incensed when Longstaff’s official negation of the opium-smuggling order was made public, and the admiral had dispatched a frigate home with a request that the Government give him the permission he sought direct; and last, that Chen Sheng, their compradore, was inundated with creditors demanding payment on all the lesser debts that normally would wait their time.

Struan knew that he was beaten if he did not reach Jin-qua in the next six days, and he asked himself again if Jin-qua was avoiding him or if he was truly away from Canton. He’s an old thief, Struan thought, but he’d never avoid me. And if you do see him, laddie, are you really going to make the offer to that devil Ti-sen?

There was the sound of angry singsong voices and the door burst open, admitting a filthy young Hoklo boat woman and a servant who was trying to restrain her. The woman wore the usual huge, conical sampan hat and grimy black trousers and blouse and over them a grimy padded jacket.

“No stop can this one piece cow chillo, Mass’er,” the servant said in pidgin English, holding on to the struggling girl. Only through pidgin could the traders converse with their servants, and they with them. “Cow” meant “woman.” “Chillo” was a corruption of “child.” “Cow chillo” meant “young woman.”

“Cow chillo out! Plenty quick-quick, savvy?” Struan said.

“You want cow chillo, heya? Cow chillo plenty good bed jig-jig. Two dollar never mind,” the girl called out.

The servant grabbed her and her hat fell off, and Struan saw her face clearly for the first time. She was barely recognizable because of the grime and he collapsed with laughter. The servant gaped at him as though he were mad and released the girl.

“This piece cow chillo,” Struan said through his laughter, “Stay can, never mind.”

The girl tidied her verminous clothes irately and shouted another torrent of invective at the departing servant.

“Cow chillo plenty good you see, Tai-Pan.”

“And you, May-may!” Struan stared down at her. “What the hell’re you doing here, and what the hell’s the filth for?”

“Cow chillo think you dooa jig-jig with new cow chillo, heya?”

“God’s blood, lassie, we’re alone now! Stop using pidgin! I’ve spent enough time and money teaching you the queen’s English!” Struan lifted her up at arms length. “Great God, May-may, you stink to high heaven.”

“You would too if you wear these smell clotheses.”

“

Had to wear these

smelly clothes,” he said, correcting her automatically. “What are you doing here, and why the smell clotheses?”

“Put me down, Tai-Pan.” He did, and she bowed sadly. “I arrive here in secret and in great sadness for you lost your Supreme Lady and all children by her but one son.” The tears streaked the grime on her face. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Thank you, lass. Aye. But that’s done now, and no grief can bring them back.” He patted her head and fondled her cheek, touched by her compassion.

“I do not know your custom. How long should I dress in mourning?”

“No mourning, May-may. They’re gone. There’s to be no weeping and no mourning.”

“I burned incense for their safe rebirth.”

“Thank you. Now, what are you doing here, and why did you leave Macao? I told you to stay there.”

“First bath, then change, then talk.”

“We’ve no clothes here, May-may.”

“My worthless amah, Ah Gip, is downstair. She carries clothes and my things, never mind. Where is bath?”

Struan pulled the bell cord and immediately the wide-eyed servant appeared.

“Cow chillo my bath, savvy? Amah can dooa. Get chow!” Then to May-may, “You say what chow can.”

May-may chattered at the gaping servant imperiously, and left.

Her peculiar swaying gait never failed to move Struan. May-may had bound feet. They were only three inches long. When Struan had bought her five years ago he had cut off the bandages and been horrified at the deformity that ancient customs had decreed was a girl’s essential sign of beauty—tiny feet. Only a girl with bound feet—

lotus feet—could be a wife or concubine. Those with normal feet were peasants, servants, low-class prostitutes, amahs or workers, and despised.

May-may’s feet were crippled. Without the binding tightness of the bandages her agony had been pitiful. So Struan had allowed the bandages to be replaced, and after a month the pain had lessened and May-may could walk again. Only in old age did bound feet become insensible to pain.

Struan had asked her then, using Gordon Chen as interpreter, how it was done. She had told him proudly that her mother had begun to bind her feet when she was six. “The bindings were bandages two inches wide and twelve feet long and they were damp. My mother wrapped them tightly around my feet—around the heel and over the instep and under the foot, bending the four small toes under the sole of the foot and leaving the big toe free. As the bandages dried they tightened and the pain was terrible. Over the months and years the heel closes near to the toe and the instep arches. Once a week the bandages are taken off for a few minutes and the feet cleaned. After some years the little toes become shriveled and dead and are removed. When I was almost twelve I could walk quite well, but my feet were still not small enough. It was then that my mother consulted a woman wise in the art of foot binding. On my twelfth birthday the wise woman came to our house with a sharp knife and ointments. She made a deep knife cut across the middle of the soles of my feet. This deep split allowed the heel to be squeezed closer to the toes, when the bandages were replaced.”

“What cruelty! Ask her how she stood the pain.”

Struan remembered her quizzical look as Chen translated the question and as she replied in charming singsong.

“She says, ‘For every pair of bound feet there is a lake of tears. But what are tears and pain? Now I am not ashamed to let anyone measure my feet.’ She wants you to measure them, Mr. Struan.”

“I will na do such a thing!”

“Please, sir. It will make her very proud. They are perfect, in Chinese fashion. If you don’t, she will feel that you’re ashamed of her. She will lose face terribly in front of you.”

“Why?”

“She thinks you took the bandages off because you thought she was cheating you.”

“Why should I think that?”

“Because you’re—well, she’s never known a European. Please, sir. It is only your pride in her that repays all the tears.”

So he had measured her feet and expressed the joy that he did not feel, and she kowtowed three times to him. He hated to see men and women kowtowing, kneeling, their foreheads touching the floor. But ancient custom demanded this obeisance from an inferior to a superior and Struan could not forbid it. If he protested, May-may would be frightened again and she would lose face in front of Gordon Chen.

“Ask her if her feet hurt her now.”

“They will always hurt her, sir. But I assure you it would pain her much more if she had big, disgusting feet.”

May-may then had said something to Chen, and Struan recognized the word

fan-quai, which meant “devil barbarian.”

“She wants to know how to please a non-Chinese,” Gordon said.

“Tell her fan-quai are no different from Chinese.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell her that you are going to teach her English. Immediately. Tell her no one’s to know you’re teaching her. No one’s to know she can speak English. In front of others she’s to speak Chinese only, or pidgin, which you’ll also teach her. Lastly, you will protect her with your life.”

“May I come in now?” May-may was standing in the doorway, bowing delicately.

“Please.”

Her face was oval, her eyes almond-shaped and her eyebrows perfect crescents. A perfume surrounded her now, and her long, flowing robe was of the finest blue silk brocade. Her hair was dressed in crescents on the top of her head and adorned with jade pins. She was tall for a Chinese and her skin so white as to be almost translucent. She was from the province of Soochow.

Though Struan had bought her from Jin-qua and had haggled many weeks over the price, he knew that actually T’chung May-may was Jin-qua’s gift to him in return for many favors over the years; that Jin-qua could have sold her easily to the richest man in China, to a Manchu prince, even to the emperor, for her weight in jade—let alone the fifteen thousand taels of silver which they finally agreed on. She was unique, and priceless.

Struan lifted her up and kissed her gently. “Now, tell me what’s going on.” He sat in the deep chair and held her in his arms.

“First, I came disguised because of danger. Na only to me but to you. The reward still is on your head. And kidnaping for ransom is ancient custom.”

“Where did you leave the children?”

“With Elder Sister, of course,” she replied. Elder Sister was what May-may called Struan’s ex-mistress Kai-sung, as was the custom, though they were not related. And now Kai-sung was the third wife of Struan’s compradore. Yet between May-may and Kai-sung there was intense affection, and Struan knew that the children would be safe and cherished as if they were her own.

“Good,” he said. “How are they?”

“Duncan has the black eye. He tripped down, so I whipped his turtledung amah till my arm she fell off. Duncan has a bad temper from barbarian blood.”

“From you—na from me. Kate?”

“She has her second tooth. That very lucky. Before second birthday.” She nestled in his arms a moment. “Then I read paper. That man Skinner. More bad joss, heya? That lump of dogmeat Brock is breaking you by huge monies owed. Is it true?”

“Part’s true. Aye, unless there’s a change in joss, we’re broke. No more silk and perfumes and jades and houses,” he teased.

“Ayeeeee yah!” she said with a toss of her head. “You’re na the only man in China.”

He slapped her on the rump and she hacked at him with her long nails, and he caught her wrist neatly.

“Dinna say that again,” he said, and kissed her passionately.

“God’s blood,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “Now look wat you’ve done to my hair. That lazy whore Ah Gip spent one hour doing it, never mind.”

She knew that she pleased him greatly, and she was proud that she could now, at twenty, read and write English and Chinese, and speak English and Cantonese as well as her own dialect of Soochow, and also Mandarin, the language of Peking and the court of the emperor; and also that she knew much of what Gorden Chen had learned at school for he had taught her well, and between them was great affection. May-may knew that she was unique in all China.

There was a discreet knock on the door.

“A European?” she whispered.

“Nay, lass. It’s only a servant. They’ve orders to announce everyone. Aye?”

The servant was followed by two others and they all averted their eyes from Struan and the girl. But their curiosity was obvious, and they dawdled over laying out the dishes of Chinese food and chopsticks.

May-may assaulted them with a torrent of Cantonese and they bowed nervously and scuttled away.

“What did you say to them?” Struan asked.

“I just warned them, by God, if they told anyone I was here I’d personally slit their tongues and cut their ears off and then I’d persuade you to chain them in one of your ships and sink it in the ocean along with their godrotting wives and children and parents, and before that you’d put your Evil Eye on the godrotting scum and their godrotting scum offspring forever.”

“Stop cursing, you bloodthirsty little devil! And stop joking about Evil Eye.”

“That’s no joke. That’s what you have, devil barbarian. To all but me. I know how to handle you.”

“Devil take you, May-may.” He intercepted her hands and the intimate caress. “Eat while the food’s hot and I’ll deal with you later.” He picked her up and carried her over to the table.

She served him quick-fried shrimps and lean pork and mushrooms stewed delicately in soya and nutmeg and mustard and honey, then helped herself.

“God’s death, I’m hungry,” she said.

“Will you na stop swearing!”

“You forgot the ‘by God,’ Tai-Pan!” She beamed and began to eat with great relish.

He picked up the chopsticks and used them deftly. He found the food superb. It had taken him months to acquire the taste. None of the Europeans ate Chinese food. Struan, too, had once preferred the solid fare of old England, but May-may had taught him that it was healthier to eat as the Chinese did.

“How did you get here?” Struan asked.

May-may selected one of the large prawns that were fried and then stewed in soya-flavored syrup and herbs, and daintily she decapitated it and began to peel off the skin. “I bought passage on a lorcha. I buy fantastical cheap steerage ticket and dirtied myself for safety. You owe me fifty cash.”

“Pay it out of your allowance. I did na ask you here.”

“This cow chillo dooa cash easy can, never mind.”

“Stop it and behave yoursel’.”

She laughed and offered him the prawn and began to peel another.

“Thanks, no more for me.”

“Eat them. They’re very good for you. I tell you many times they make you very healthy and very potent.”

“Give over, lass.”

“They do,” she said, very serious. “Prawns are very good for your vigor. Very important to have plenty of vigor! A wife must look after her husband.” She cleaned her fingers on an embroidered napkin, then picked up one of the prawn heads with her chopsticks.

“Dammit, May-may, do you have to eat the heads?”

“Aye, by God, do you na ken they’re the best part?” she said, mimicking him, and laughed so much she choked. He thumped her on the back, but gently, and then she drank some tea.

“That’ll teach you,” he said.

“The heads are the best part, even so, never mind.”

“Even so, they look dreadful, never mind.”

She ate in silence a moment. “It is bad with Brock?”

“Bad.”

“It is terrifical simple to solve this badness. Kill Brock. It is time now.”

“That’s one way.”

“One way, another way, you will find a way.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You do not want to lose me.”

“Why should I lose you?”

“I dinna enjoy second-best either. I belong to

the Tai-Pan. I’m na a godrotting Hakka or boat woman or Cantonese whore. Tea?”

“Aye.”

“Drinking tea with food is very good for you. Then you will never get fat.” She poured the tea and offered him the cup gracefully. “I like you when you’re angry, Tai-Pan. But you dinna frighten me. I know I please you too much, as you please me too much. When I am second-best another will take my place, never mind. That is joss. For me. And also for you.”

“Perhaps you’re second-best now, May-may.”

“No, Tai-Pan, not now. Later, yes, but not now.” She bent over him and kissed him and slid away as he tried to hold her.

“Ayee yah, I must not feed you so many prawns!” She ran from him laughing, but he caught her and she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “You owe me fifty cash!”

“Devil take you!” He kissed her, needing her, as much as she needed him.

“You taste so very good. First we play backgammon.”

“No.”

“First we play backgammon, then we make love. There’s plenty of time. I stay with you now. We play for one dolla point.”

“No.”

“One dolla point. Maybe I get headache, too tired.”

“Maybe I won’t give you the New Year’s present I was thinking about.”

“Wat present?”

“Never mind.”

“Please, Tai-Pan, I won’t tease you any more. Wat present?”

“Never mind.”

“Please tell me. Please. Was it jade pin? Or gold bracelet? Or silks?”

“How’s your headache?”

She slapped him crossly, then threw her arms tighter around his neck. “You are so bad to me and I’m so good to you. Let’s make love, then.”

“We’ll play four games. A thousand dolla point.”

“But that is too much gamble!” She saw the mocking challenge in his face, and her eyes flashed. “Four games. I beat you, by God.”

“Oh no, by God!”

So they played four games and she cursed and cheered and wept and laughed and gasped, consumed with excitement as her fortunes changed. She lost eighteen thousand dollars.

“God’s death, I’m ruined, Tai-Pan. Ruined. Oh woe, woe, woe. All my savings and more. My house—One more game,” she begged. “You must let me try to get back monies.”

“Tomorrow. Same stakes.”

“Never will I gamble again for such stakes. Never, never, never. Except one more time tomorrow.”

After they had made love, May-may got out of the four-poster bed and went to the fireplace. An iron kettle hissed softly on the little iron shelf near the flames.

She knelt down and poured the hot water from the kettle on the clean white towels. The flames danced over the purity of her body. Her feet were encased in tiny sleeping shoes and the bindings were neat around her ankles. Her legs were long and beautiful. She brushed the shiny blue-blackness of her hair behind her and came back to the bed.

Struan held out his hand for one of the towels.

“No,” May-may said. “Let me. It gives me pleasure and it is my duty.”

When she had dried him she washed herself and then settled peacefully beside him under the quilts. A crisp wind rustled the damask curtains and made the flames in the grate hiss. Shadows danced on the walls and high ceiling.

“Look, there’s a dragon,” May-may said.

“No. It’s a ship. Are you warm enough?”

“Always, near you. There’s a pagoda.”

“Aye.” He put an arm around her, glorying in the smooth coolness of her skin.

“Ah Gip is making tea.”

“Good. Tea will be very good.”

After the tea they were refreshed, and they lay back in the bed and he blew out the lamp. They watched the shadows again.

“Your custom is that you may only have one wife, heya?”

“Aye.”

“Chinese custom is better.

Tai-tai is more wise.”

“What’s that, lassie?”

“ ‘Supreme of the Supreme.’ The husband is supreme in family, of course, but in the home, first wife is supreme of supreme. It is Chinese law. Many wives is also law but one Tai-tai.” She moved her long hair more comfortably. “How soon will you marry? What is your custom?”

“I dinna think I’ll marry again.”

“You should. A Scottish or English. But first you should marry me.”

“Aye,” Struan said. “Perhaps I should.”

“Aye, perhaps you should. I am your Tai-tai,” and then she nestled closer to him and let herself slip into tranquil sleep.

Struan watched the shadows a long time. Then he slept.

Just after dawn he awoke, sensing danger. Taking his knife from under the pillow, he walked softly to the window and pulled the curtains aside. To his astonishment he saw that the square was deserted. Beyond the square, in the river, an uneasy silence seemed to hang over the floating villages.

Then he heard muffled footsteps padding toward the room. He glanced at May-may. She still slept peacefully. With his knife ready, Struan leaned against the wall behind the door and waited.

The footsteps ceased.

A gentle knock.

“Aye?”

The servant came softly into the room. He was frightened, and when he saw Struan naked, the knife in his hand, he gasped out, “Mass’er! Hooknose Mass’er and Black Hair Mass’er dooa here. Say quick-quick plees can.”

“Say I quick-quick dooa.”

Struan dressed quickly. He dropped a hairbrush and May-may half awoke. “Is too early to get up. Come back to bed,” she said sleepily, and curled deeper into the quilts and was instantly asleep again.

Struan opened the door. Ah Gip was squatting patiently in the corridor, where she had slept. Struan had given up trying to make her sleep elsewhere for Ah Gip would smile and nod and say, “Yes, Mass’er,” and still sleep outside the door. She was short and square and a smile seemed to be permanently fixed on her round, pockmarked face. For three years she had been May-may’s personal slave. Struan had paid three taels of silver for her.

He beckoned her into the room. “Missee dooa sleep can. Waitee this piece room, savvy?”

“Savvy, Mass’er.”

He hurried downstairs.

Cooper and Wolfgang Mauss were waiting for him in the dining room. Mauss was moodily checking his pistols.

“Sorry to disturb you, Tai-Pan. There’s trouble,” Cooper said.

“What?”

“There’s a rumor spreading that two thousand Manchu soldiers—bannermen—came into Canton last light.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” Cooper said. “But if it is true, there’s going to be trouble.”

“How-qua sent for me this morning,” Mauss said heavily.

“Did he say if Jin-qua was back yet?”

“No, Tai-Pan. He still says his father’s away. For myself, I do not think so,

hein? How-qua was very afraid. He said that he’d been awoken early this morning. An imperial edict signed by the emperor was given him which said that all trade with us was to cease instantly. I read it. The seals were correct. The whole Co-hong’s in an uproar.”

There was a clattering in the square. They hurried over to the window. Below them a company of mounted Manchu soldiers trotted into the east end and dismounted. They were big men and heavily armed—muskets, long bows, swords and bannered lances. Some were bearded. They were called bannermen because they were imperial troops and carried the imperial banners. Chinese were not allowed into their regiments; they were the elite of the emperor’s army.

“Well, there are certainly forty or fifty in Canton,” Struan said.

“And if there are two thousand?” Cooper asked.

“We’d better get ready to leave the Settlement.”

“Bannermen are a bad sign,” Mauss said. He did not want to leave the Settlement; he wished to stay with his Chinese converts and to continue the preaching to the heathen that took all of his time when he was not interpreting for Struan.

“Schrechlich bad.”

Struan considered possibilities, then rang for a servant. “Big chow quick-quick. Coffee—tea—eggs—meat—quick-quick!”

“Bannermen are in the square, and all you think of is having breakfast?” Cooper asked.

“No point in worrying on an empty stomach,” Struan said. “I’m hungry this morning.”

Mauss laughed. He had heard the whispered rumor among the servants that the Tai-Pan’s legendary mistress had arrived in secret. At Struan’s suggestion, two years ago he had secretly taught May-may Christianity and had converted her. Yes, he thought proudly, the Tai-Pan trusts me. Because of him, oh Lord, one at least has been saved. Because of him, others are being saved for Thy divine mercy. “Breakfast is a good idea.”

Standing beside the window, Cooper could see the traders scurrying through the garden and into their factories. The bannermen were grouped in an untidy mass, squatting and chattering. “Maybe it’ll be like the last time. The mandarins’ll hold us for ransom,” Cooper said.

“Na this time, laddie. If they start anything, they’ll try to cut us up first.”

“Why?”

“Why send bannermen to Canton? They’re fighting men—na like the local Chinese army.”

Servants came in and began to lay the huge table. Later the food was brought. There were cold chickens and boiled eggs and loaves of bread and hot stew and dumplings and hot meat pies and butter, marmalade and jam.

Struan ate heartily and so did Mauss. But Cooper had no relish for his food.

“Mass’er?” a servant said.

“Aye?”

“One-Eye Mass’er dooa here. Can?”

“Can.”

Brock stalked into the room. His son Gorth was with him. “Morning, gentlemen. Morning, Dirk lad.”

“Breakfast?”

“Thank you kindly.”

“You had a good voyage, Gorth?”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Struan.” Gorth was of a size with his father, a hard man, scarred and broken-nosed, with grizzled hair and beard. “Next time I be beating

Thunder Cloud.”

“Next time, lad,” Brock said with a laugh, “you be captaining her.” He sat and began to gorge himself. “Will thee pass the stew, Mr. Cooper?” He jerked a bent thumb at the window. “Them bastards doan mean no good.”

“Aye. What do you think, Brock?” Struan asked.

“The Co-hong be tearing their pigtails out. So trade be finished for the time. First time I seed poxy bannermen.”

“Evacuate the Settlement?”

“I baint bein’ chased out by Chinee or by bannermen.” Brock helped himself to more stew. “Course I may retreat a little. In me own time. Most of us’n be starting back tomorrer for the land sale. But we’d do good to call a council right smartly. You’ve arms here?”

“Na enough.”

“We’ve plenty for a siege. Gorth bringed ’em. This place be the best to defend. It be almost ourn anyway,” he added.

“How many bullyboys have you?”

“Twenty. Gorth’s lads. They’ll take on a hundred Chinese apiece.”

“I’ve thirty, counting the Portuguese.”

“Forget the Portuguese. Better us’n alone.” Brock wiped his mouth and broke a small loaf in two and smeared it with butter and marmalade.

“You can’t defend the Settlement, Brock,” Cooper said.

“We can defend this factory, lad. Doan thee worry about us’n. You and the rest of the Americans hole up in yorn. They won’t touch thee—it’s us’n they want after.”

“Aye,” Struan said. “And we’ll need you to watch our trade if we have to leave.”

“That be another reason I come here, Dirk. Wanted to talk open about trade and Cooper-Tillman. I made a proposal which were accepted.”

“The proposal was accepted subject to Struan and Company’s not being able to fulfill prior arrangements,” Cooper said. “We’re giving you thirty days, Dirk. On top of the thirty days.”

“Thank you, Jeff. That’s generous.”

“That be stupid, lad. But I doan mind the time, I be generous too with yor time. Five more days, Dirk, eh?”

Struan turned to Mauss. “Go back to the Co-hong and find out what you can. Be careful and take one of my men.”

“I don’t need a man with me.” Mauss heaved his girth out of the chair and left.

“We’ll hold the council downstairs,” Struan said.

“Good. Perhaps we should all move in here. There be space enough.”

“That would give us away. Better to prepare and wait. It may just be a trick.”

“Right thee are, lad. We be safe enough till servants disappear. Come on, Gorth. Conference in an hour? Downstairs?”

“Aye.”

Brock and Gorth left. Cooper broke a silence. “What does it all mean?”

“I think it’s a ploy by Ti-sen to make us nervous. To prepare for some concessions he wants.” Struan laid a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “Thanks for the thirty days. I will na forget.”

“Moses had forty days. I thought thirty’d be adequate for you.”

The conference was noisy and angry, but Brock and Struan dominated it.

All the traders—with the exception of the Americans— were in the huge state room that Struan used as his private office. Kegs of cognac, whisky, rum, and beer lined one wall. Tiers of books and ledgers lined another. Quance paintings hung on the walls—landscapes of Macao, portraits, and ships. Glass-fronted chests with pewter mugs and silver tankards. And racks of cutlasses, and muskets; powder and shot.

“It’s nothing, I tell you,” Masterson snorted. He was a red-faced, dewlapped man in his early thirties, head of the firm of Masterson, Roach and Roach. He was dressed like the other men—dark wool broadcloth frock coat, resplendent waistcoat and felt top hat. “The Chinese have never molested the Settlement ever since there was one here, by God.”

“Aye. But that was before we went to war with them and won it.” Struan wished they would all agree and go. He held a perfumed handkerchief over his nose against the rancid stench of their bodies.

“I say toss the bloody bannermen out of the square right now,” Gorth said, refilling his tankard with beer.

“We be doing that if it be necessary.” Brock spat into the pewter spitoon. “I be tired of all this talkin’. Now be we agreeing with Dirk’s plan or baint we?”

He glared around the room.

Most of the traders glared back. There were forty of them—English and Scots, except for Eliksen the Dane, who factored for a London firm, and a corpulent Parsee dressed in flowing robes, Rumajee, from India. MacDonald, Kerney, Maltby from Glasgow and Messer, Vivien, Tobe, Smith of London were the chief traders, all tough, oak-hard men in their thirties.

“I sniff troubles,

sir,” Rumajee said and pulled at his vast mustache. “I counsel immediate retreat.”

“For God’s sake, the whole point of the plan, Rumajee, is not to retreat,” Roach said caustically. “To retreat only if necessary. I vote for the plan. And I agree with Mr. Brock. Too much bloody talking and I’m tired.” Struan’s plan was simple. They would all wait in their own factories; if trouble began, on a signal from Struan, they would converge on his factory under covering fire from his men if necessary. “Retreat before the heathen? Never, by God!”

“May I suggest something, Mr. Struan?” Eliksen asked.

Struan nodded at the tall, fair-haired, taciturn man. “Of course.”

“Perhaps one of us should volunteer to take word to Whampoa. From there a fast lorcha could hare for the fleet at Hong Kong. Just in case they surround us and cut us off as before.”

“Good idea.” Vivien said. He was tall, pallid and very drunk. “Let’s all volunteer. Can I have another whisky? There’s a good chap.”

Then all at once they were talking again and quarreling about who should volunteer, and at length Struan pacified them. “It was Mr. Eliksen’s suggestion. If he’s a mind to, why na let him have the honor?”

They trooped into the garden and watched as Struan and Brock escorted Eliksen across the square to the lorcha Struan had put at his disposal. The bannermen paid no attention to them, other than to point and jeer.

The lorcha headed downstream.

“Mayhaps we be never seeing him again,” Brock said.

“I dinna think they’ll touch him or I’d never’ve let him go.”

Brock grunted. “For a foreigner, he baint a bad ‘un.” He went back with Gorth to his own factory. The other traders streamed to theirs.

When Struan was satisfied with the arrangement of the armed watch in the garden, and at the back door that let onto Hog Street, he returned to his suite.

May-may was gone. And Ah Gip.

“Where Missee?”

“Doan knowa, Mass’er. Cow chillo no see my.”

He searched the whole building, but they had vanished. It was almost as though they had never been there.