Luis leaned closer to the captain. “If fireships can’t get us through Pirate Alley, nothing will. No sight in all of naval warfare strikes more fear in an enemy’s heart than a fireship hooked to its side, bursting into flames.”
“What alternative do we have?” I said.
“None,” Capitán Zapata said, drumming on his desk with his fingertips, impatient with the long-winded Luis. “And most assuredly, the fireship is an awesome sight. Unfortunately, for us, we have no such weapon. Unless, of course, you wish to grapple our own galleon to the enemy, set it aflame, and burn all of us alive.”
Capitán Zapata stared at Luis a long hard minute. For a moment I feared he would have both of us spread-eagled on the mast and flogged to the bone. He’d ordered it done to men for less. Instead he shrugged and said, “You’re right about one thing: We need a defense against those Manila pirates. What would you use for fireships?”
“Dhows.”
Capitán Zapata studied Luis quizzically. “Have you ever sailed into Hong Kong Bay?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
“On three different voyages, Capitán.”
Luis had not told me about that period of his disgracefully depraved life.
“What did you do there?” Capitán Zapata asked.
“Each time our captain made a side trip on his way to Manila, he brought back three chests of opium. It is ten times as valuable as gold in Europe.”
“Why?” I asked. I’d never heard of opium.
“It’s the greatest pain-slayer in history,” the captain said. “When wealthy men and women are in agony—for whatever reason—they will pay a fortune for it. I would have traded my right arm for some during my illness.”
“They will pay anything the seller asks,” Luis said. “If the pain is severe enough, they have no choice.”
“I’m sure you benefited as well,” the captain said.
“Each time my captain rewarded me with … nada. I have hoped and prayed throughout this voyage that I might find cause to visit that fabled city again and acquire for my new and revered captain the same magical powder that he too might grow rich and prosper. I even have prayed that such a captain might be so grateful for my fealty and the mucho dinero which I brought to him that he would bequeath me a minute fraction of his unexpected riches.”
“What kind of minute fraction?” the captain asked.
“A paltry forty percent?”
“Or a generous five.”
“A pathetic thirty?”
“You get ten percent. Argue any more and you get nothing but pain.”
“Muchas gracias. Most generous, Capitán.”
Most generous because Luis and I both knew he’d never see any percentage—negotiating with Luis for the captain was a temporary expediency that hanging Luis from the yardarm later would remediate.
The captain pursed his lips. “Most Oriental harbors like Hong Kong are pirate coves, animals to whom our ship will be raw meat.”
“Hong Kong has pirates, but the Harbor Lord’s revenues rely on repeat business from reliable traders such as myself. He prohibits the plundering of any merchant vessels approaching Hong Kong and forbids attacking any ships leaving Hong Kong which have done business with him. They sail under Hung Pao’s protection. Unless you cross him.”
“Hung Pao, the Harbor Lord, regards you as a reliable businessman?” The captain’s voice conveyed his doubts.
“Sí, Capitán. Hung Pao will give us a red flag with which to deter Chinese pirates all the way to the Manila Straits.”
“But will the Manila Marauders honor it?” I asked.
“In a word, no.”
“Are you sure you know opium?” the captain asked. “Why wouldn’t Hung Pao foist inferior powder on us?”
“As I said, he depends on repeat business, and he only sells opium for silver. Such business is hard to come by. But, sí, for a certainty, I know it.”
“I thought the Chinese emperor banned opium sales,” Capitán Zapata said.
“Only when it’s sold to Chinese for consumption. When Hung Pao sells it to foreign devils for silver, he gives the emperor his cut, and All Under Heaven looks the other way.”
Luis paused and grinned at the captain. “I trust you have no scruples in growing rich off a product people cannot do without?”
“I have a ship to save. Besides, as you well know, money speaks the universal tongue, Cannon Master,” the captain said. His ice-cold voice and eyes made me shudder. “It is the true lingua franca, not Latin or French.”
Suddenly the captain smiled.
His smile—rather than reassuring—was … frightening.
I glanced at Luis out of the corner of my eye, and his wolfish leer mirrored Capitán Zapata’s … exactly.
When money was involved, they were brothers in blood.
I felt as if someone had stepped on my grave.
FIFTY-THREE
AFTER DINNER THAT night, Capitán Zapata asked us to his cabin, uncorked a bottle of fine Madeira brandy, set out three cups—and opened up his map.
My impression was that he was still trying to convince himself that the mad plan proposed by Luis was his best course.
Locating Hong Kong Island, he sat down and charted the most wind-efficient westerly course.
“We can be there in two weeks. How long do you think it will take you to purchase fireships and teach a skeleton crew to steer and sail this armada of Hong Kong dhows and turn them into Chimneys of Hell?”
“A few days,” Luis said. “Dhows are amazingly simple to steer.”
“Armament?”
“Juan and I have worked that out. It will be simple—but lethal.”
Ayyo … we had worked out nothing.
“And you will have no problems acquiring the opium?” Capitán Zapata asked, his eyes skeptical.
“Old Hung and I go way back. He likes me, because I always bring him silver and give no trouble. Hell, I’d like me too if I were him. All that silver? What’s not to love?”
Eh … I wondered if Luis even knew the man. Could his many trips to Hong Kong be nothing but lies and bravado?
“This is a very complicated way to sail to Manila,” Capitán Zapata said with a weary sigh.
“As we stand now, we would never survive Manila’s straits and coastlines unarmed—never,” Luis pointed out.
The captain shook his head. “I can’t seem to trust anyone else on board. Why not an indio savage and a picaro condemned to the bilge gang?”
That night we changed course for the Hong Kong Island.
FIFTY-FOUR
SINCE LUIS AND I were living on deck, I quickly got to know who was on board—crew and passengers. I became especially concerned about a mystery man, whose identity was a complete secret. He received special privileges and had no particular duties. Invariably dressed in black, the crew called him “the black ghost.”
What concerned me was the way he followed me with his eyes. Like a vulture staring at a dying animal.
His identity was supposed to be a secret, but Luis quickly learned he was a familiar, a lay representative of the Inquisition traveling to Manila. Unfortunately for us, our sudden ascent from bilge slaves to crewmen attracted his attention and curiosity.
Even worse, the captain’s cabin boy told me that the Inquisitor had ordered the captain to turn me over to him for questioning and that this hound of hell had his “interrogation instruments” with him, and he intended to give me “a thorough examination that may lead to an auto-da-fé.”
Ayyo … an auto-da-fé was the burning of a sinner at the stake.
He was especially curious how I had learned to work with black powder. And the rumors that Luis told fortunes with devil cards.
The cabin boy warned me that the captain had succeeded in stalling him until we reached Manila because he needed Luis and me until then.
Despite the undeniable logic of the captain’s reasoning, the Inquisitor was incensed.
He wanted me on his rack and in his thu
mbscrews with Luis waiting in the wings for his examination.
When I expressed my concerns to Luis, he seemed unconcerned.
“Amigo, you consider that a problem? You should have been with me on my fireship at Trafalgar, facing down the English Admiral Nelson, or the time I went mano a mano with the Bey of Algiers. Now that was danger. This little matter is nothing two men of the world can’t make go away like motes of dust in a tempestuous typhoon. Is that not so?”
I could only stare at him, my face a mask of doubt.
He grinned and whispered, “Besides, I have a feeling that long before we reach Manila, the Inquisitor will have to test his ability to swim among sharks.” He raised his eyebrows. “An unfortunate accident at sea, no? Man overboard. Hit his head on the side of the boat on the way down so he can’t shout for help? Is that not the way of the treacherous ocean we cross?”
Luis had an answer for everything.
I was caught by surprise to be called along with Luis into the captain’s quarters that very night.
We were told that the Inquisitor was “lost” at sea.
“What do you two know about this tragedy?”
Of course, I didn’t have to lie. I knew nothing. And Luis lied so well …
Later, when I asked Luis what he knew about the holy man’s mishap, he raised his eyebrows and made the sign of the cross.
“You don’t think I would deliberately harm a man of the cloth, do you?”
Of course I did. Besides, a familiar wasn’t a priest.
Luis shook his head. “I suppose he fell over the rail while taking his nocturnal constitutional. All of which only goes to prove my theory that late-night exercise after a full dinner is bad for one’s health.”
“He fell overboard?” I asked skeptically.
“For a certainty. He will be missed and mourned by all.”
In truth, no one seemed to care—or know much. If a Holy Brother of the Inquisition could tumble over the side, anyone could.
Increasingly, I viewed Luis as a good man to have in my corner.
Especially since my corner had become such an increasingly violent and precarious place.
PART XIII
HONG KONG
FIFTY-FIVE
HONG KONG.
Near the mouth of South China’s Pearl River Delta, the island is thirty square miles of stony earth and raw, barren, infertile rock. Planted directly in the path of the Pacific’s most violent storms, Hong Kong is bordered east and west by hazardous reefs. Bounded by the South China mainland, Hong Kong Island itself, and its adjacent islets, its vast volcanic harbor is a highly hospitable refuge from those tempests. Its volcanic hills and scarps of black basalt rise high above the sea—often a half mile high or more.
Hong Kong. Words meaning Fragrant Harbor because of the woods and incense traded at the main bay.
A sanctuary for pirates, slave traders, and opium smugglers, it is home to some of the most cunningly devious and brutally bloody men on earth. Nonetheless, pillaging ships en route to the port or leaving it under its flag of protection is strictly forbidden.
Those who violate these sanctions the Harbor Lord ruthlessly disciplines.
The closer we approached Hong Kong Island, the more reluctant the captain became to enter the pirate domain and acquire his dhow hell-burners and his treasure trove of opium. As we sailed into the big, black, volcanically enclosed cove, Luis continued to press his argument with the captain on why he thought our plan would work.
“As long as we carry ourselves with insufferable arrogance and convince these people we are strong, we will prevail. We appear to be a heavily armed warship with more guns than any pirate vessel afloat. We have no reason to fear anyone. That is what our arrogance must convey.
“Furthermore, as long as we are in Hong Kong Harbor, we have nothing to fear. We are safe as if we were in our mother’s womb. In the cove and in its surrounding sea lanes the Harbor Lord strictly enforces his prohibitions against violence and plundering of trading vessels. The Chinese never allow a brigand’s bloodlust to supersede their greed.”
“How civilized,” Capitán Zapata muttered under his breath.
“That’s inside Hong Kong Bay. If we show fear, Hong Kong’s pirates will follow us out of the bay. When we reach the waters of the Philippines, we will be fair game.
“We cannot show weakness or fear in our dealings with these people,” Luis said. “All they understand is arrogance and strength.”
As we sailed deeper into the harbor, I marveled at the hundreds of double-mast dhows swarming in the sprawling bay. I found the small boats with graceful lines and their distinctive triangular-shaped “lateen sails” things of beauty.
If we wanted to acquire a cheap craft to turn into a fireboat, Hong Kong Bay was the place to shop.
All the colonial powers fiercely forbade the sale of cannonry in the Far East—for fear of inadvertently arming colonial insurgents. And, as Luis had pointed out, the cannons that were available were being put to good use by pirates. With no cannonry available for sale, I told Luis he better be right about being able to acquire a fireboat.
After anchoring in a bay, the captain ordered Luis and me to take a dinghy ashore and conduct the business at hand.
“How will you find your opium trafficker?” he asked Luis.
“Hung Pao’s men will be there at the jetty before we set foot on it. His spy dhows have already sped ahead of us and informed him that a large vessel was headed for the bay. If you use your spyglass to examine some of the dhows that seemed to be floating listlessly, I’m sure you’ll find they’re full of Hung’s cutthroats.”
“We will need a cover story for the viceroy’s customs officers when they examine our cargo in Manila. Otherwise, he’ll simply seize the opium for his own account, then jail us.”
“Your bill of lading will read tea, spices, and silk cloth. Hung will give you a special price that will be many times cheaper than in Manila. The goods cost him next to nothing. He’ll make his profit on the opium. One chest of silver will cover it. They don’t see much silver bullion around here. Hung will also plan on us for repeat business.
“If you still can’t balance the ship’s books, we’ll buy some worthless silk and putrid spices for next to nothing and soak them in brine. We’ll tell your employers some of the goods got swamped in a storm. That happens all the time.”
The captain went over our mission with Luis again, instructing him to only purchase one dhow. “Trying to cross over to the Philippines with more than one of the native crafts would be infinitely difficult. Our sailors aren’t familiar with the boats; we won’t have a chance to repair them if they prove unseaworthy. We will tow the dhow behind with just a skeleton crew aboard.”
I didn’t need to be told who the skeleton crew would be. Luis and I would be assigned to the dhow. We would be the ones selected to use it as a fireboat, anyway.
They discussed the type of materials to be stuffed into the dhow that would prove the quickest and hottest fire when it became necessary. The captain’s preference was lamp oils, straw, dried bamboo, and dried palm leaves.
I pointed out that we wouldn’t have to pack the dhow full of fire fodder. “We have barrels of gunpowder that won’t hurtle a cannon far but I can use to turn a small boat into a big bomb. It’ll blow oil and other flammables onto any vessel nearby.”
“Combustibles like straw and bamboo which have little value will be a strange cargo that causes talk,” Luis said. “We’ll have to be discreet about loading it, perhaps bringing the materials aboard in bales and barrels and packing the dhow when we are out to sea. We could use the excuse that we’re buying straw for horses we’re transporting in the galleon.”
Later, when we were alone, I asked Luis if we should go to our meeting with Hung armed.
Luis’s smile dazzled like the dawning sun. “Young friend, we do think alike, don’t we? Of course we will go armed to the teeth. And if we need to draw weapons against a thousand of Hung’s Chine
se pirates, we will go down in a blaze of bloodied glory, taking a few of them with us, eh, amigo.”
Ayyo … perhaps a Spanish picaro—or whatever Luis was—thought that dying in battle halfway around the world was glorious, but I intended not to die.
I had to return to Maria’s arms.
“I can spare one chest of silver,” Capitán Zapata said, “and still have enough to do our business in Manila. If anything should happen to it, if the Chinese pirate leader takes our silver and gives us opium powder as impotent as our gunpowder … I will kill myself before the viceroy provides his notion of punishment.”
Before we climbed down the rope ratlines to the dinghy, the captain told us in no uncertain terms of what would happen to us if we returned empty-handed. He intended to make sure we suffered severely before he had to suffer.
“How did we become the cause of all the captain’s problems?” I asked Luis. “We are more victims than him.”
“He needs someone to focus his ire on now that the cannon master is dead. It’s the way of the world. Men like the captain kick those beneath him and kiss the feet of those above.”
“One more question, Luis. Suppose we face more than one pirate ship?”
“Don’t worry, young friend. I have a plan.”
He punctuated that statement with an arrogant blast of ear-cracking laughter.
FIFTY-SIX
I HAD NEVER been in an opium den. It was the first place Hung’s “honor guard” of vicious-looking cutthroats took us to after we pulled up to the jetty in the ship’s dinghy.
Dark and smoke-filled, the room’s dimensions were difficult to gauge. Scores of bunk beds stacked three- and four-high blocked my view of the huge hall. Adjacent to each stand of bunks was a brazier, which heated a domed, smoke-filled pot. Multiple hoses were connected to the dome with release valves near the hoses’ ends; each pipe serviced a semicomatose opium smoker lying on the bunk.
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