by Gai-Jin(Lit)
"Some flotsam was washed aboard, looked like a crate. Gave me a fright for a moment," Jamie said.
"Thought I heard a crash... I... think
I'll, think I'll vis't the Club before turning in."
"I'll join you," Skye said, needing more than one drink to settle his stomach. "Jamie?
More'ss Angelique?"
She shook her head and Jamie said, "Off you go, nothing more to do tonight. Don't forget the plan."
They had agreed nothing was to be said other than, if asked, they had conducted a symbolic sea burial, nothing more.
Fortunately none of the others had seen the coffin come aboard or his struggle with it--except
Tinker. As soon as he could, he had gone aloft to the wheelhouse. "Bosun, about the coffin, the others below saw nothing, so on your head, by God, you saw nothing and you say nothing either. It's our secret."
"Whatever you say, sorr." Tinker handed him the flask and touched his forelock, "Thanks.
Weren't for you we'd be below, all of us--along with him."
There was barely a swallow left but it helped.
"I thought I'd never make it. We forget it. Your oath, eh?"'
"Whatever you say sorr, but afore we forget it, when the box sank an' broke up an' he come out it, he didn't half give me a turn, by God. I thort he were trying to bloody come back aboard."
"Jesus Christ," Jamie had gasped.
"You're imagining it, I saw nothing--you're imagining it."
"Oh no I weren't, sorr, my eye line's higher an' yors, right? An' I saw the bugger, begging your pardon, I saw him come out and flail for the surface afore he were sucked down."
"You're imagining things, for Christ's sake.
What an awful thing to say!"
"It's the God's Truth, sorr, so help me! 'Course it were only for a moment and sea spume were all around him but I seed him right enough!" Tinker had spat to leeward, touched wood, and made the sign against the Evil Eye and the Devil, and pulled the lobe of his ear to make his point. "God's truth, sorr an' strike me down if I lie, made my balls jump to Kingdom come. Struck out for the surface he did afore Davy Jones sucked him down, naked as a babe."
"A lot of bloody cobblers!
Nonsense!" Jamie remembered how he had shivered and touched wood himself just in case.
"You're imagining it, Bosun, though I swear to God that bloody coffin seemed to have a mind of its own, an evil one at that."
"My whole point, sorr, it were possessed by Old Nick hisself." Again Tinker spat to leeward, sweating. "Flailed for the surface he did, different like, eyes open and all, and I thort he was coming at us for good."
"For Christ's sake, give over!
Malcolm wouldn't do anything bad to us," he had said ill at ease. "It was a trick of your mind."
"My eye line, sorr, was high--"'
"Forget your bloody eye line. Have you any rum left?"'
Tinker coughed and reached into a hidden locker and pulled out another flask. It was half empty.
Jamie took a large swallow, choked, and took another.
"There'll be ten cases of rum in our warehouse for you to draw against, Tinker, with my thanks. You did a fine job, so did the stoker--four cases for him." Tinker thanked him effusively. The grand rum heat in his stomach had swamped all his chill. He looked at the old weathered face and shrewd blue eyes. "I was never so bloody scared, never, in my whole life. I thought I was a goner three or four times."
"Not me, sorr," the Bosun said with a grin.
"Not with you aboard, but I was right happy when the bugger and his box were overboard and him sucked down cursing us all the way..."
Though safe ashore, again Jamie shivered, thinking of it. Angelique said, "You should get out of those wet clothes."
Hoag said, "Well, I'm off."
She put her arms around him and kissed his cheek closing her nostrils to the smell of vomit.
"Thank you so much, see you tomorrow." She did the same to Skye. The two men went off unsteadily. "Will they be all right?"
Jamie said, "Nothing that a few whiskies and a night's sleep won't cure."
"They're not in shape to discuss anything, are they?"
"No. What do you want to discuss?"
She took his arm in hers and hugged it. "Just to decide about tomorrow."
"We can talk as we go." They said good night to Tinker and the stoker, both men again thanking
McFay for the rum. Then they walked off arm in arm. "Angelique--before you say anything, I'm glad we did it."
"Oh so am I, dear Jamie, you are a dear and I truly am so glad and so happy nothing went wrong, no one was hurt." A wan smile.
"Just a little sick."
"Nothing to worry about. Tomorrow?"
"I've decided not to go with the mail ship, no, please don't say anything, I've decided.
I'm safer here. Until I hear from Tess formally. Really, Jamie, I am, I'm safer here. And I'm sure Hoag and George would agree that medically it would be wise. I don't think you should go either."
"It's my job to tell Mrs. Struan,
Mrs. Tess Struan."
"You can call me Angelique, you always have and
I, well, I've only been Mrs. Struan for a moment." She sighed, continued walking towards the Struan Building. "It's better I stay. She'll have to declare herself, better by letter here. Malcolm's buried and that's all that
I wanted. Do you have to go?"
"In this wind," he said, thinking aloud,
"Prancing Cloud could make fifteen to seventeen knots, day in day out, and be tied up in Hong Kong in five days--she'll have the bit between her teeth with such important news and important cargo." They had all agreed that publicly and now privately they would consider that coffin the tai-pan's. "The mail ship will average eight knots if she's lucky so she'll take the usual ten odd days. By the time
I got there the funeral will have been done, Tess will know everything from dozens of different points of view--my report's aboard, so is Sir
William's and fifty others no doubt. She's dismissed me at the end of month and the new fellow arrives in a few days and I was told to show him the ropes." Then there were reasons he decided not to say aloud: he should be canvassing other hongs-- as the major companies were sometimes called--for a job. The only real, suitable job available and up to his experience and surely on offer would be
Brock and Sons. Then he had to decide about
Maureen, and then there was Nemi. He smiled at
Angelique sadly. "It adds up to, no reason to go, doesn't it?"
She hugged his arm, oblivious of those passing.
"I'm glad. I won't feel lonely if you're here."
"Jamie!" Phillip Tyrer had called out from the British Legation doorway, hastily putting on his top coat and hat, hurrying towards them. "'evening Angelique, Jamie," he said in an uneasy rush, "Sir
William's compliments would you two and the, the rest of the, the passengers and crew of the cutter kindly see him tomorrow morning before church, before you both board the mail ship? She sails at two o'clock now."
"For what purpose, Phillip?" Jamie said.
"I, I think he'd like to... dammit, oh excuse me, Angelique, obviously he'd like to ask what on earth you were doing."
"Doing?"
The young man sighed. "Sorry, old boy, it's not my idea. You're on the mat, I've delivered the message, that's all.
Don't pick on me, I'm just the nearest dogsbody."
They both laughed, tension leaving them. "Ten o'clock?"
"Thanks, Jamie, that should be plenty of time."
Tyrer looked down the way at the cutter.
"Looks as though you had a rough crossing, what on earth happened to the prow?"
Jamie glanced back. The damage was clearly visible under the lamp at the head of the jetty, and, he knew, easily observable with binoculars for miles from the Legation windows.
"Flotsam," he said readily. "A crate, what looked like a crate was washed aboard, then carried
away again. No great problem."
Sunday, 14th December:
"I don't agree, Jamie. We have a distinct problem." Sir William sat behind his desk, facing them. Phillip nearby, the mood in the drab office inquisitorial. "Let's start again. You seem to be spokesman so I'll address myself to you. I specifically said no funeral here, the body was to go back to Hong Kong an--"
"It's already gone, Sir William, on
Prancing Cloud," Jamie repeated, his jaw set. They had been arguing for half an hour, he and Sir William, the others answering guardedly, all of them instructed by him and by Skye, only to respond when questioned directly and even then not to volunteer anything, just to answer the question as simply as possible: Hoag, Skye,
Tinker, the stoker, and Angelique. Hoag was definitely the weakest link in the chain and twice had almost blurted out the reason. Angelique was heavily veiled, wearing black and dressed for church. "We had a make-believe funeral."
"I know that and as I have asked repeatedly, repeatedly, if it was merely symbolic why use a real coffin with a real corpse, albeit with a native therein, and shove him over the side with a form of a Christian's burial at sea?"
Jamie shrugged, stumped by that inevitable question.
This morning Skye had said weakly, "We'd best shrug it off, brazen it out, keep our heads down, nothing much he can do but spit blood."
"The coffin was there, I thought it a good idea."
"Ah, this was all your idea then?"
"Yes," Jamie said stubbornly, glaring at
Hoag who started to open his mouth. "I suggested it and, and the others were good enough to go along with it. It was the tai-pan's wish--it was Malcolm's wish and
Mrs. Struan's. No harm was done."
"I most assuredly disagree. The whole idea's macabre, you deliberately went against my considered opinion, there seems to be an astonishing breakdown of reasonable thinking and a desire of all assembled here to avoid telling me the truth, the simple explanation, and have colluded to hide... to hide what? Don't you agree, Phillip?"
Tyrer jerked in his chair. "Er, yes sir if you say so."
"Why the use of a real coffin and real body?"
Hoag shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They all knew that any moment he would break.
Angelique decided that now was the time and she began to cry. "Why don't you just leave us alone, we did no harm, just did what we thought best, what my husband wanted, what I wanted for him
..."
"Angelique, please don't cr--"
"... that he wanted and you forbade. It's your fault, Sir William, I thought you were our friend, if you were our friend and you'd been... been reasonable we wouldn't have had all this trouble, of course it wasn't nice to do anything underhand even though I think you were quite wrong and..."
"Mrs. Struan, I on--"
"... of course that wasn't nice, none of us wanted to do that, but at least we did it in good faith, before God, at least these friends, real friends helped to do properly what my husband and I... it wasn't much to ask..."
For a moment she was going to flee the room but wisely did not, realizing that that would solve nothing and leave the others at his mercy so she stayed where she was, dissolving into ever more heartbreaking sobs, knowing she had not lied and had said nothing more than the truth: it was his fault!
In seconds they were all around her, trying to calm her, all feeling terrible, except
Skye who was awed by the brilliance of her timing, and Sir William who was privately amused though, for face, pretending to be equally upset.
He watched and waited, still disgusted with all of them for whatever machinations they had jointly conceived. What had possessed them and who was the real culprit? Surely not Jamie? Bloody stupid to do what they did. Ridiculous.
Stupid to risk their lives like that.
People are no damned good. Even Angelique.
Ah, but what a lady, and what a treasure and what an actress--where in the name of God does she get it all from? Like most girls of her age, her education is minimal, in her case convent which is a bloody sight worse. Is Heavenly coaching her for the trial of the century? Or am I just a cynical old fool? Either way, I will really be sad to lose her.
His mantelpiece clock chimed quarter to the hour. Time for church, he thought, time to stop--he was reading the lesson and had not yet had time to skim through it.
"There there, Mrs. Struan," he said as a good though stern father would. "No need for tears, we've all had enough of them recently. I must confess I still totally disapprove of the escapade, very poor show, but under the emotional circumstances I think we'll let it rest there, for the moment." Again he pretended not to hear their audible relief, or to notice the subsidence of her sobs. "Now, it's time for church, and then the mail ship and our wishes for a bon voyage and a long life will go with you. Truly we will be very sorry and very sad to see you leave our shores."
"I, I'm not leaving yet, Sir
William."
"Eh?" Sir William and Tyrer were flabbergasted.
Between sobs, her head bowed, she said, "Dr.
Hoag has advised me not to travel for at least a week."
Hoag said quickly, "That's right, medically not a good idea, Sir William, not a good idea at all, no not at all." This morning Skye, supported by Jamie, had insisted that it was best she did not go for a time. "A medical certificate is what she needs, Doctor, one you can attest to with Tess Struan. With all this emotion, surely she shouldn't travel or have any confrontations until she's stronger?"' Hoag had readily agreed, and said to Sir William, "As you can see she's easily upset, and I've given her a certificate, not that it's necessary."
For a moment Sir William did not know what to think. On the one hand they had not lost her, on the other the irritant that she already was, and the thorn she was bound to become when Tess
Struan's wrath fell on her and all of them, would still be in his jurisdiction. "You really should go,
Ma'am, I would have thought it very important to be at the funeral."
"I want to go but..." Her voice broke and a fresh sob racked her. "Dr. Hoag is, is going in my place, I really don't feel up to... it's best..."
"But Jamie, you'll be going too?"
"No sir. There are things I've been ordered to do here by Mrs. Tess Struan."
"Bless my soul." Halfheartedly Sir
William tried to dissuade her, then sighed.
"Well, if Dr. Hoag says so, that's the end of that, he is the Struan doctor." He got up. Openly relieved, they thanked him and began to leave. "A moment, Dr. Hoag, a word if you please." He hid his pleasure seeing Jamie and Skye blanch and said pointedly as they hung back, "G'day Jamie, Mr. Skye.
Phillip, no need for you to stay."
The door closed. Hoag was like a rabbit before a cobra.
"Now, Doctor, quietly tell me the truth, how is she?"
"She's very well, on the surface, Sir
William," Hoag said, at once. "It's a surface cure. What's underneath no one knows.
It could last days, weeks, a year or more--then the nightmare will return. What will happen then..."
He shrugged.
"You'll be seeing Tess Struan?"
"Yes, as soon as I arrive." Hoag waited shakily, dreading the questioning, knowing he would fail.
Thoughtfully Sir William got up and poured a whisky and gave it to him. The liquor vanished. "You won't be coming back here for a time, if ever. I need to know, in confidence, what medically are the chances of her carrying Malcolm's child?"
Hoag blinked, the liquor and the unexpected gentleness calming him and putting him off balance, not expecting this line of questioning. He said with great sincerity, "Of course that's up to God, sir.
But Malcolm was healthy and so is she, both fine people, unfortunately both star-crossed-- so sad. I'd say the chances are very good for this was no idle fancy, their lovemaking must have been very passionate, as near a true love as I have ever seen."
Sir William
frowned. "Good. When you see
Tess Struan... I think our Mrs.
Struan will need all the help she can get.
Eh?"
"You may rest assured I'll intercede for her."
Sir William nodded and reached into his drawer. The envelope was sealed and addressed