by Gai-Jin(Lit)
How? If you solve my problem you can... you can name your own price." Tiredly he reached for his canes. "Within reason."
"A moment, Tai-pan," Skye said, exuberantly polishing his glasses. My price won't only be money, not from the Noble House, your influence can help me become a Hong Kong judge, ah, what joy that will be! My only dilemma is should I reveal the solution now, or wait and risk losing the initiative. Not on your
Nelly! A bird in the bed is worth two in the
Yoshiwara.
No longer solemn, he set his pince-nez back on the tip of his nose, now like twin doors dominating his pink, babyish face, which seemed to overflow them. "I had a sudden thought,
Tai-pan. It could solve your problem, in the time you need. Why don't you do what your mother did?"
Malcolm was thrown for a moment, then the meaning became clear. "Oh, oh you mean elope?
I've thought of that for God's sake," he said irritably, "but elope where and who's going to perform the ceremony, we're a million miles from Macao."
"What has Macao to do with it?" Skye asked.
"Everyone knows mother and father eloped and were married in the English Church in Macao, the ceremony performed quietly and quickly because of grandfather's influence."
Skye smiled and shook his head. "That's the published the story but it's not true. Your
Captain Orlov married them aboard your clipper China Cloud en route from Macao to Hong Kong--your grandfather had made your father
Master for that short voyage, and as you know the tai-pan's law is that at sea the Master was the law of the ship."
Struan was gaping at him. "I don't believe it."
"The first attribute of a good lawyer, and I am a good lawyer, Mr. Struan, is to be a good listener, the second to have a nose for facts and secrets, the third to be discreet.
It's very important to know as much as you can about your most important, potential clients--all the better to help them in adversity." He took a pinch of snuff, sneezed. "The Noble House is the first in Asia, the stuff of legends, so when I came to Hong Kong I wanted to sift fact from legend about the Struans, Brocks, the
Americans Cooper and his partner Wilf
Tillman, even the Russian Zergeyev. I thin--" He stopped. The young man's eyes were glazed, staring into the distance, not listening, his mind surely on the solution as it surfaced and filled his firmament. "Mr. Struan!"
"Oh, sorry, you were saying?"
"I'm delighted to present you with your solution, there are difficulties of course, but you have ships, they have captains, and captains of a British ship, in certain situations can perform a marriage. You are tai-pan so you-can-order-it!
Quod erat demonstrandum."
"Heavenly you're fantastic," Malcolm burst out, "fantastic! You're sure, sure about my mother and father?"
"Yes. One of my informants was Morley
Skinner, owner of the Oriental Times, a contemporary of Dirk Struan, an old man who loved to gossip about the old times, another was
Mrs. Fortheringill before she died, and--have you noticed how few people are interested in listening to old people who actually witnessed all kinds of events.
Skinner died about eight years ago, did you know him?"
"No." Some of Malcolm's hope evaporated. "If that story's true, everyone in
Hong Kong would know it."
"Dirk Struan decided to hush it, decided a "quiet church wedding" was better face.
He was powerful enough to do that, and even got the
Brocks to agree. It's true."
"But if he..." Malcolm stopped--his face a delight to see. "But true or false that doesn't matter, does it?"
"Yes, it does. The truth is vastly important because it gives you a complete defense against your mother. After all, you're only doing what she did, you're following her example."
"My God, Heavenly, you're right again." Then even more excitedly. "Do you have proof?"
Of course, silly boy, Skye thought, but you don't get everything at once. "Yes, in Hong
Kong. I'll need expenses to go there at once
--against my retainer. Shall we say five thousand, which includes proof... and always providing my solution cuts your Gordian knot. By the time you get there, after the wedding, I'll have all the proof you'll need."
"God in Heaven, and I thought I was lost!"
Malcolm sat back in the chair. Now there was nothing to stop him. And this fact cleared his mind of many devils, devils of the night and of the day and of the future. "What other "facts" do you know about me and the past?"
"Lots, Mr. Struan," Skye said with a smile. "But they're not for now, however precious."
Malcolm Struan was heading homewards, happier than he could remember, his sticks or the pain not bothering him as much as usual.
And why not? he almost sang. Married next week to the most beautiful girl ever, Mother finessed flawlessly--I can't wait to see her face--
I've a party tonight that now will really be a celebration, and Norbert's back in perfect time to be sent onwards to meet his Maker,
"Ayeeyah!"
Jovially he greeted and waved at those who passed by. He was popular as well as pitied, respected as tai-pan of the Noble House, and envied even more as the adored husband-to-be of the
Settlement's darling.
The sun broke through the clouds to match his mood, set the sea sparkling, while the fleet sorted itself out in the bay, Sir William's tender rowing out to the flagship, the mail ship clustered with other tenders. Their own merchantman,
Lady Tess, which plied between Yokohama,
Shanghai, Hong Kong, then all the major ports home to London and back again, was prepared for sea, outward bound this evening.
Her captain would do, he thought, Lavidarc
Smith, big and blustery, many years with
Struan's like most of our captains but I've never liked him much, I'd rather have had old Uncle
Sheely to marry and bless us. Pity I didn't know what I know now when he was here.
Never mind. Joss! Anyway I can't keep
Lavidarc here and even tomorrow would be impossible, have to deal with Norbert first.
What about Vincent Strongbow, off Prancing
Cloud? She arrives Sunday and turns around for Hong Kong Wednesday. That gives me plenty of time to kill Norbert and slip aboard her before Sir William creases me. I mustn't be delayed here, far safer to be in Hong
Kong where we've real power and Angel... my wife by then... she can follow in two or three weeks.
So, everything decided. And Heavenly's right again: I must be very careful and not tell anyone, not even Angel, until just before. I can trust him, he's sworn to secrecy and his fee will be spread over the year which will ensure I have his devotion.
Ayeeyah, five thousand! Never mind, he's given me the answer, he's really done it!
Thank God!
Another decision: I'm going to cut down on the medicine, even try to cut it out altogether. I've a duty to Angel to get well and be strong without props. And be fit to take over the Noble
House. With Angel beside me, I can...
Horses trotting past dispelled his reverie.
He waved at the riders and saw that he was near the church, sun on the steeple, the smell of the sea and horses and earth and life in his nostrils. In sudden gratitude he began to go in to say a prayer of thanks when he noticed their steam launch heading for their wharf, Jamie in the stern, his head deep in a newspaper, and that reminded him of mail. He changed direction and was at the wharf head just before she came alongside.
"Jamie!" he called out above the noise of the engine and waved as she nosed against the timbers, heavy with seaweed and barnacles. He saw
Jamie squint against the wind, then wave back.
One look at his face was enough. "I'll come aboard."
Awkwardly he stepped on deck, difficult to walk on a sloping surface with two canes, but he maneuvered his way aft and allowed Jamie to catch his
arm and help him down the three steps into the cabin. The cabin was spacious and private, with benches around a sea table, lockers underneath them. On the table was the mail, in neat bundles, separated into letters, newspapers, magazines and books. At once he saw a letter from his mother atop his pile, her writing so distinctive.
Another letter from her to Jamie was already open on the table.
"I'm, I'm glad to see you, Tai-pan."
"What's up now?"
"Here, read my letter for yourself."
For your information my son may not marry until he has attained his majority, under any circumstance. I have already informed Reverend
Michaelmas Tweet, Sir William (by this post), and made a careful announcement in this day's Oriental Times (enclosed). Also to all our captains of all our ships plying to and from your waters have been so informed and have ordered them to spread this information, and also advised Admiral
Ketterer (by this post) in case a captain's ceremony tempts him. What my son does after his 21st birthday is of course up to him.
Until that time, before God, I will protect his interests and ours as best I can.
The air had rushed out of Malcolm's lungs and blood from his face. He ripped open his own letter. It was almost a copy of the other, except personal and addressed, My dearest son, and ended,
This is really for your own good, my son. I regret to say the girl's stock is bad--we have heard officials in French Indo-China now pursue her father for fraud, you already know an
Uncle is in Debtor's Prison in Paris.
If you must have her, make her a mistress, much as
I disapprove, but you will only store more trouble for yourself I am sure. I of course will never meet her.
I trust I will have the pleasure of seeing you before Christmas when this sorry business can be behind us. I would write about the vile Brocks but that must be settled here and not in Yokohama. yr loving mother.
The "P.s. I love you" was there so no secret message.
Slowly he tore the letter into pieces. This control pleased him, but did not take away the fury that she had checkmated him. "That woman," he muttered, unaware he was speaking aloud, "that woman's a hag... a devil-spawned hag, a witch, how could she possibly know..."
McFay watched and waited, gravely concerned.
When he could think straight, Malcolm said.
"What's in the paper?" The article was brief:
Mrs. Tess Struan, acting head of
Struan's, announced today that the Noble House would host a major celebration on the occasion of the
21st birthday her eldest son, Malcolm, and his formal elevation to tai-pan on May 21/, next year.
"Well, Jamie," he said with a bitter smile. "Not much more she can do to undermine me, is there?"
"No," Jamie said, his heart going out to him.
Malcolm saw the ships and horizon and beyond that
Hong Kong and the Peak and all his friends there, and enemies. Now she was atop the list. "It's funny in a way. A few moments ago I was riding a crest..." Dully he told Jamie about his great idea, about Tweet's turn-down, and all about Heavenly's marvelous scheme. "That's garbage now."
Jamie was as much in shock as Malcolm. He could not seem to get his mind working. "Perhaps, perhaps
Tweet could be persuaded. Perhaps a contribution to the Ch--"
"He turned that down. So did Father Leo."
"Jesus Christ, you asked him too?"
Malcolm related that meeting, shocking
Jamie even more.
"God Almighty, Tai-pan, if you're so set on it to go to those lengths... perhaps... we'll find another captain."
"Not much chance of that, Jamie. Anyway
Heavenly stressed to keep it quiet until it was over, particularly Sir William who could forbid it as Angelique and I are under age. And if she put him on formal notice, he'll have to tell Seratard. She's won... God curse her!"
Again he put his eyes on to the horizon. In the past when a catastrophe happened, when the twins drowned for example--while she never said it directly, he always thought that she blamed him, if he'd been there somehow it would not have happened--he would feel the tears welling, like now, but would force them back and that would make the hurt worse and the sick feeling terrible. He did that because "A tai-pan never cries." She had always drummed it into him. It was the first thing he could remember her saying, "The tai-pan never cries, he's above that, he fights on, like
Dirk, he never cries, he bears the burden," repeating it again and again though tears always came easily to his father.
I never realized what contempt she had for him.
She never cried, never once that I can remember.
I'm not going to cry. I will bear the burden.
I swore I'd be worthy of the tai-pan and I will. Never again will she be "mother" to me. Never.
Tess. Yes, Tess, I will bear it.
His eyes focused on Jamie, feeling so old, and so lonely. "Let's get ashore."
Jamie started to say something, stopped. His face was strange. Then he pointed to the seat opposite. More packets of mail there.
"What is it?"
"That's... that's Wee Willie's mail.
Bertram, the Legation's new dogsbody, was sick so I said I'd... I'd fetch their mail for them." Jamie's fingers were as shaky as his voice. He picked up the large bundle of letters. Its crisscrossed string was government-sealed in the center but it was still easy to leaf through the corners and find her two letters.
To Sir William and Admiral Ketterer.
"We, with a little time, and, and luck you could, I, I might be able to, to get them out."
The hair at the nape of Malcolm's head seemed to stiffen. To rob the Royal Mail was a hanging offense.
The two men stared at the bundle of letters, in turmoil, consumed with dread. The cabin was claustrophobic. Malcolm said nothing and watched Jamie who was silent, both of them drained. Then, making the decision for him,
Jamie's shaky fingers ripped at the string but this galvanized Malcolm into his own decision and he reached over and grabbed the bundle and stopped him. "No, Jamie, you mustn't."
"It's the, the only way, Tai-pan."
"No it isn't." Malcolm straightened the string, relieved the seal was not broken, then smoothed the letters out and put them back on the other pile, the touch of them hateful.
"It's just not right," he said, his voice as weak as his knees, despising his weakness--was it weakness?
"I'd never forgive myself if you... if you were caught and, and well I just don't have the courage
--apart from that it's not right."
Jamie's face was wet with sweat. "Right or not, no one's to know. If we don't, you've no chance. Maybe we can find a captain--even
Brock's, they've a ship next week."
Malcolm shook his head, his mind blank. A wave rocked the launch against the pilings, screeching the rope fenders. With an effort he forced himself to concentrate. All his life, whenever he was in quandary, he would ask himself what Dirk
Struan, the tai-pan, would do--but never a real answer came forth.
At length, so wearily he said, "What would he do, Jamie? Dirk Struan?"
At once Jamie's memory took him to that devil-may-care giant of a man, the few times he had seen him, or been in his company for a few minutes--he himself so junior and just arrived.
"He'd..." After a moment, a smile began.
"He'd... Dirk would... yes, that's it. I think he would order us and the Bosun ashore and take the launch out himself "to test her as something feels amiss," and then... then when he was well away and in deep water, he would calmly open the sea cocks and, while she filled, he would make sure all this mail was well weighed and could not float free, then he'd go to the stern and light a cheroot and wait till she sank and swim ashore. Had he interfered with the mails?
"Perish that thought, laddie."" Jamie's beam became seraphic. "Why not?"
Before Tokaid@o Malcolm was a strong swim
mer. Now he knew he would sink like an anchor. "I'd never make it ashore."
"I could, easily, Tai-pan."
"Yes, but this isn't your problem, Jamie, and even if you did, it would only buy me a week or so and that's no good. Joss. We can't interfere with the Royal Mail. Let's agree to forget this happened. Eh?" He held out his hand.