The Masters

by Christopher Nicole

  The Masters

  Christopher Nicole

  © Christopher Nicole 1995

  Christopher Nicole has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published in 1995 by Severn House

  This edition published in 2018 by Endeavour Media Ltd.

  Table of Contents

  PART ONE - THE FAMILY

  CHAPTER 1 - THE WIDOWS

  CHAPTER 2 - THE CHILDREN

  CHAPTER 3 - THE ASSAULT

  CHAPTER 4 - THE JAPANESE

  PART TWO - THE CONSPIRATORS

  CHAPTER 5 – BOLUGAYEN

  CHAPTER 6 - THE CHATELAINE

  CHAPTER 7 - THE BETROTHAL

  CHAPTER 8 - THE CONSPIRATOR

  CHAPTER 9 - THE ACCUSED

  CHAPTER 10 - THE EXILES

  PART THREE - THE PEOPLE

  CHAPTER 11 - THE VISITOR

  CHAPTER 12 - THE FUGITIVES

  CHAPTER 13 – WAR

  CHAPTER 14 - THE SIEGE

  CHAPTER 15 - THE PEOPLE

  PART ONE - THE FAMILY

  ‘Good families are generally worse than any other.’

  Anthony Hope

  The Prisoner of Zenda

  CHAPTER 1 - THE WIDOWS

  The Japanese customs officer virtually sat to attention behind the table in the saloon of the SS Lusignan, out of San Francisco, destination Shanghai, with ports of call Yokohama, Port Arthur and Tientsin, and peered at the passports and tickets placed before him. This woman and her son were at the head of the queue of passengers, because, apparently, the woman virtually owned the shipping line for which the vessel sailed. “You go Port Arthur,” he remarked in stilted English. “Why you do this, Mrs Cromb?”

  Anna Cromb raised her eyebrows. “Is it any concern of yours?”

  The little man studied the woman; he was unused to being challenged. He saw a mass of yellow hair, upswept and lightly streaked with gray, a face of still flawless Caucasian beauty even if she was old enough to be a grandmother, a full figure, accentuated by the pale green gown which was all the fashion, at least in the United States and Europe, in this summer of 1894. He glanced at the passport; she was fifty-six years old. She had all the trappings of wealth. Beneath the gray gloves, he could tell that there were several rings, her lapel watch was gold, her pearl necklace clearly of immense value; her earrings matched.

  He glanced from her to the young man standing beside her, and looked at the second passport. Duncan Cromb. Clearly the woman’s son, a handsome blond giant. “You have business in Port Arthur?”

  “If you must know,” Anna said coldly. “My brother-in-law is the Russian minister there. I am to visit him. Now kindly let me have my papers back.”

  The customs officers fingered the passports before closing them. “You go ashore in Yokohama?” he inquired.

  “Yes,” Anna said. “We go ashore in Yokohama. And we go up to Tokyo, for a few days. The ship is to coal. Do you expect us to remain on board?” She folded the passports into her reticule, and led Duncan aside. “Officious little yellow bastard,” she remarked as they strolled out of the saloon on to the promenade deck.

  “I don’t follow his interest,” Duncan remarked. Like all of Anna’s children — he was the youngest — he was somewhat in awe of his mother: Anna Cromb had never forgotten, or allowed anyone else to forget, that she had begun life as the Countess Anna Bolugayevska, a member of one of the premier princely families of Russia. “I mean,” he ventured. “Port Arthur is Chinese, is it not?”

  “Absolutely,” Anna agreed, and looked from the rail across the houses of Yokohama, and up at the distant Hakone Mountains, and the towering peak of Fujiyama, snow-clad even in July.

  “So why do you reckon he was so interested, Mom?”

  “I have no idea,” Anna replied. “You will have to ask your Uncle Colin.”

  Duncan considered this for some moments. “He isn’t really my uncle, is he?”

  “Of course he is. He was married to my sister, once upon a time.” And after that, she thought, he and I loved. She knew it was just about time for the boy to understand that. But how to tell him? “Isn’t that mountain the most impressive sight in the world?” she asked, to change the subject.

  “It sure is. D’you reckon we could climb it?”

  “I’m sure we could. But we’re not going to, this trip. We’re going to look at Tokyo.”

  For the nineteen-year-old boy, this journey should be an enormous adventure, Anna thought, as they ate in the ship’s dining salon two evenings later, having spent a tiring but exciting two days exploring the Japanese capital. Anna wished she could have brought all her children with her, but since her husband’s death Charles Junior had had to manage the shipping line and Alexandra was married and had two children of her own. So only her baby was left. Some baby, who towered twelve inches above his mother!

  The shipping line, and thus her second home, was based in Boston. So she had had to be fairly selective in telling her children of her past. To have a mother who was born and bred into the Russian aristocracy before running away to marry an American shipowner was an exciting enough background for most people from that most upright of cities. To have admitted any of the sexual adventures that had dominated her girlhood, or the violent events that had punctuated her relations with her two sisters, and had ended in the death of both of them, would have placed her children in an impossible position. Thus she had always spoken of Russia in a vague and generalised fashion — supported by her husband: Charles Cromb senior had taken part in those bloody and amoral events of her youth, and had no desire for anyone in his own circles to know of them. Thus Duncan, bound up in his sporting and college activities, had made it quite clear that he regarded being required to accompany his mother to the Far East to meet relatives a distinct bore. She regarded this first introduction to the mainstream of the family as an important step into the past which she also wanted to be his eventual future. Even if she could not understand what a man as important as Prince Bolugayevski was doing as a sort of glorified consul in a backwater like Port Arthur.

  But again, no doubt Colin would explain when she arrived; she had used the occasion of her visit to Tokyo to send him a telegram, informing him that she had reached Japan, and would be in Port Arthur in four days. “Now,” she told Duncan, as they sipped their after dinner brandies. “You will address Prince Bolugayevski as sir, and the Princess as madam. You will speak English. They would only smile at your Russian, and besides, they are English themselves, both the Prince and Princess, as, of course, are their joint children.”

  “You have never explained that to me, Mother. You were once the Countess Bolugayevska. You are Russian. You are the oldest living true Bolugayevski. But this Englishman...”

  “Your uncle,” Anna reminded him.

  “My uncle,” he agreed, “is the Prince, and master of all the Bolugayevski Estates. I find that hard to understand.”

  He had given her a cue, if she was bold enough to take it. But it had to be now, or it would be never. “Yes. Well, he married my elder sister Dagmar, when he was a prisoner during the Crimean War. When my brother was killed, there were only my sisters and I left, and so our father made Colin his heir, as her husband. When Papa died, he became the Prince Bolugayevski. And when Dagmar died, he became Prince in his own right.”

  “And you didn’t object? Shouldn’t Pa have been the Prince, as your husband?”

  Anna sipped her brandy. “Your father and I weren’t married when Dagmar...died. At that time...” she raised her head, “Colin MacLain and I were lovers.” Duncan stared at her, and she made a move. “I’m afraid I am not quite the innocent flower I have endeavoured to appear all of these yea
rs, Duncan. If it is any consolation to you, your father knew of the relationship.”

  “But still wanted to marry you,” Duncan said, half to himself. “He must have loved you very much.”

  “He did,” Anna said.

  “But say, Mom, this MacLain guy...you say his wife, your sister...”

  “Your Aunt Dagmar,” Anna said.

  “Yeah, this Aunt Dagmar, you say she died before you married Pa, and while you were...having this affair. So why didn’t this MacLain marry you himself? Didn’t he love you too?”

  “I think Colin loved me. But he loved someone else more. The present princess.”

  “Who’s English too. Heck. It’s a pretty tangled world you lived in, Mom.”

  Anna reckoned she had gone far enough for one night. “Just remember that he is the Prince. I don’t know how many of their family will be there, if any, but again, they will all be counts and countesses. These things are important in Russia.”

  “But we’re not going to be in Russia,” Duncan pointed out.

  “Anywhere a Bolugayevski is, is Russia,” she told him.

  Anna sat before her dressing mirror in the bedroom of the suite on the promenade deck she was privileged to occupy: it was the only such accommodation on board. Her maid, Collins, had been dismissed, after actually tucking her into bed. But she had got up again almost immediately. She was far more excited than Duncan.

  She had only ever loved two men in her life, for all the rumours that had swirled about her. Charles Cromb had been her second choice as a lover, although her first as a husband. With him she had shared thirty-two fulfilling years. But he had entered her life when the high excitement of the previous six years had just been coming to the boil. There had been nothing like it since. He had seen himself as her rescuer. She had never argued with that. But those six years, when she had ridden at the side of the Englishman Colin MacLain, and slept at his side as well, were the greatest memories of her life.

  Now Charles was dead, and Colin...he had asked her to come to him. After thirty years of loving but irregular correspondence. She knew that Jennie, his wife and her oldest living friend — Jennie was Charles Cromb’s cousin — was still alive. Yet she had packed her bags without hesitation.

  Colin would be sixty, she thought. He would have put on weight, she supposed. But she could not imagine him changing in any other way. Knowing Colin at his best. Knowing that she still loved him.

  Anna stroked the line of her jaw. She knew that her beauty had lasted. Her bone structure had been made for age, and she had cared for her figure. She stood up, and shrugged the nightgown from her shoulders. Collins insisted upon the nightdress, and Anna always discarded it after the maid had retired. Russian countesses did not wear nightclothes, any more than they cut their hair. Now she cupped her breasts and took several deep breaths. The upturned magnificence of her girlhood was gone, as was the utter flatness of her belly or the boyish trimness of her thighs. But the mature beauty remained, and was perhaps the more compelling. So, was she travelling nine thousand miles looking for the resumption of her adulterous relationship with her old lover? She knew the answer was yes. Now there was Jennie. But Jennie had always known they loved each other.

  She listened to the slow growth of sound from beneath her as the reciprocating engines began to pound. They were putting to sea. She switched off the electric lights, drew the curtains, and stood at the window to look out at the glow of Yokohama beginning to fall astern. Then for a moment it was obscured, as the Lusignan steamed past several Japanese warships, moored in a line across the bottom end of the harbour. Oddly, the warships all had steam up, although they were in their home port.

  Why had that officious little man been so inquisitive? Anna got into bed, sliding beneath the covers as the ship began the slow, gentle movement of being at sea. Colin would surely explain it.

  From Yokohama, the Lusignan steamed south-west following, at a safe distance, the deeply indented coastline of Japan. This took her more than two days. On the third day, off the southernmost point of Kyushu Island, she turned north-west, for Quelpart Island off the southern coast of Korea.

  It was Anna’s habit to spend part of each day on the bridge, passing the time with Captain Robbins and enjoying the view from up there. As she remained the chief shareholder in the company, she was always welcome. “What are those?” she asked on the third morning, pointing at a line of low white objects steaming almost parallel with them, some miles to the north.

  Robbins levelled his binoculars. “Japanese ships.”

  “Warships?”

  “I wouldn’t say so, although there could be one or two escorts.” He gave her the glasses.

  Anna focussed. “They look like troop transports,” she commented. “Where on earth would Japanese troop transports be going, away from Japan?”

  “Korea, I guess,” the captain said.

  “Korea? What has Japan got to do with Korea?”

  “It’s a complicated business, Mrs Cromb. Japan has always had an historical interest in Korea. But then, so has China. They both maintain bodies of what they call embassy guards there which are virtually small armies. Every so often they very nearly come to blows. I would say Japan is attempting to sneak in some reinforcements for her people.”

  “Won’t the Chinese object?”

  “You bet. The old Empress Dowager will do her nut.”

  “I thought China had an emperor?”

  “It does. But he’s merely the Empress’s nominee. She’s the real ruler of the country.”

  “Hm,” Anna commented. But the troop movements were something of interest to tell Colin, she thought.

  The Japanese ships kept company until they rounded Quelpart Island early on the fourth morning since leaving Yokohama, then they swung away to the north, and Inshan, the Korean capital. The Lusignan continued to the north-west, and Port Arthur. Anna was up at dawn the following day, 25 July. The sea remained calm, and empty; only a distant bank of cloud to the north indicated that they were approaching land. “Will we make port today, Captain?” she asked, climbing on to the bridge.

  “I reckon this evening, Mrs Cromb,” Robbins said. “Providing no one tries to stop us.”

  “Stop us?”

  He pointed. “That fellow is showing a lot of interest. She’s what they call a protected cruiser,” he remarked. “Japanese?”

  “Oh, yes, Mrs Cromb, definitely Japanese. She has that red chrysanthemum painted on her bow.”

  “There seem to be Japanese ships everywhere,” Anna commented. “But surely they cannot interfere with us. We are on the high seas. And flying the Stars and Stripes.”

  “Yeah,” Robbins said thoughtfully. “That guy wants to talk with us, though. He’s coming closer. And signalling.” He pointed at the flashing light on the warship’s bridge. “Mr Howorth, will you come over here and take down this message?”

  The second mate levelled his glasses, while another pair were provided for Anna. Now she could see the ship quite clearly. Her practised eye estimated her to be about three and a half thousand tons — about a thousand tons smaller than the Lusignan — and about three hundred feet long. Flush-decked and single funnelled, she carried two enormous guns, one mounted forward of the bridge and the other right aft. Presumably there were secondary guns, but the two big ones were sufficiently impressive. “Ten-inch Krupps,” Robbins muttered. “Each one of those fellows can throw a five hundred pound shell several thousand yards.”

  “Message is from Imperial Japanese Ship Naniwa,” Howorth read from his pad. “Please state your name, port of origin, port of destination, and cargo.”

  “Of all the cheek,” Anna said.

  “We have nothing to interest him, Mrs Cromb. Make in reply, Mr Howorth: Steamship Lusignan, out of San Francisco, bound for Shanghai, next port of call Port Arthur. Cargo, passengers and general goods.”

  Anna snorted her indignation as the lamp flashed. “He doesn’t seem satisfied.”

  For the Japanese
was signalling again. “What is your cargo for Port Arthur?” Howorth read.

  “Tell him to mind his own business,” Anna snapped.

  “Easy, Mrs Cromb, easy,” Robbins said. “General cargo, Mr Howorth.” He continued to watch the Naniwa through his binoculars. She was so close they could make out the officers on the bridge, inspecting them through their glasses. Then the lamp flashed again. “You may proceed.”

  “Well, really!” Anna exclaimed. “I hope you are going to complain about this to the Consul, Captain.”

  “I shall certainly report it, Mrs Cromb. But these guys have us outnumbered.” He pointed and Anna saw several more Japanese warships, emerging out of the morning heat haze.

  Duncan came up the ladder. “What’s happening, Mom?”

  Anna gave him a bright smile. Since her confession he had been somewhat introspective, and she had known she could only wait for him to come to terms with the situation. “These people seem to think they own the sea. Is that another of them?”

  The Lusignan had steamed through the Japanese squadron, and now that the mist was lifting they could see another ship, steaming north-east. But this was no warship. Her hull was black and rust-streaked, she was obviously heavily laden, and...she flew the Red Ensign. “A Britisher,” Robbins commented. “Now, I wonder if those guys are going to question a ship belonging to Her Britannic Majesty. The Brits don’t take kindly to that sort of thing.”

  The Japanese were questioning the British ship with flashing lights; the merchantman’s decks were crowded with men. “Those look like soldiers,” Duncan observed, studying the ship through glasses. “They even have some artillery stacked on deck.”

  “British soldiers?” Anna asked.

  “No, Chinese, I’d say.”

  “Well, if those are Chinese reinforcements bound for Korea,” Robbins observed, “the Japanese aren’t going to be very pleased about it.”

  “Sauce for the goose, Mr Robbins,” Anna pointed out. “Well, I think that is enough excitement for one morning.” She went to the ladder, and was halfway down it, when she was checked by a sharp, distant explosion.