‘Speak for yourself,’ scowled Ingersoll. ‘What do you want?’
‘Where’s the Golden Dragon?’
Ingersoll grinned. ‘You best be asking Cap’n Verran that, matey.’
‘It’s Verran I’m looking for. Go to the porthole and put your hands behind your back.’
He had to put the pistol down to tie Ingersoll’s hands. The captain launched himself backwards off the bulkhead and cannoned into Killigrew’s body. He was bigger and stronger than Killigrew, and when they crashed into the door it was the lieutenant who bore the brunt of it.
Then Ingersoll threw himself across the room and snatched the pistol from the chair. Killigrew caught him by the wrists before he could level it, but Ingersoll managed to squeeze a shot into the deck head. It was deafeningly loud in the confined space of the cabin. The lieutenant rammed a knee into Ingersoll’s dangling scrotum and the captain dropped with a strangled scream. Killigrew prised the pistol from his grip and hit him with it.
While Ingersoll was still dazed, Killigrew gagged him and bound his hands behind his back. He could hear feet pounding the deck above his head. By the time he opened the door and pushed Ingersoll out before him, two guards were descending the companionway at the far end of the corridor.
Killigrew held the pistol to Ingersoll’s head. ‘Put down your muskets and back away, or I’ll shoot your captain!’
Ingersoll made moaning sounds behind the sock Killigrew had gagged him with. The guards lowered their muskets to the floor and backed up the companionway. Killigrew pushed Ingersoll before him until he could pick up one musket in his left hand and hold the muzzle to Ingersoll’s head. Then he dropped the pistol and picked up the other musket, slinging it across his shoulder. He goaded Ingersoll up the companion ladder and they joined the two guards on deck.
‘Much obliged,’ said Killigrew. ‘I think your captain was trying to tell you the pistol was empty.’
‘That’s all right, matey,’ said one of the guards, grinning. ‘So were our muskets.’
Still holding the musket’s muzzle to Ingersoll’s head, Killigrew pulled the trigger. The hammer fell with a hollow snap.
One of the guards punched him in the face. He felt his knees crumple beneath him and then the empty musket was snatched from his grasp. A moment later the butt was rammed into his stomach.
The other guard took out a clasp-knife and sliced through Ingersoll’s bonds. The captain tore off the gag. ‘That be right good work, lads,’ he said as more guards arrived. ‘Let’s drag him in the office, afore I be freezing to death.’
Killigrew’s arms were seized and he was hoisted to his feet. They manhandled him through a door into one of the deck houses: the same deck house Killigrew had seen Molineaux enter a few minutes earlier. There was no sign of the seaman now except for the last traces of some wet footprints which faded on the way to the safe. Ingersoll and his men did not seem to notice them.
The captain reached behind the door and produced a greatcoat which he quickly put on to cover his nakedness. Killigrew was thrown into a chair. ‘Shall we tie him up, Cap’n?’ asked one of the guards.
‘Why bother?’ Ingersoll took a musket off one of the guards. ‘Be this primed and loaded?’
‘Aye, aye, Cap’n.’
‘Good.’ Ingersoll raised the stock to his shoulder and levelled it at Killigrew’s face from almost point-blank range. There was murder in his eyes. ‘There be only one way to deal with scum like this…’
* * *
Molineaux slipped into the office on board the Buchan Prayer and closed the door behind him. Everything was dark. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted slowly to ten in his head. When he opened them again, he was able to see the safe which stood in one corner. He crossed for a closer examination. A Chubb safe with a combination lock: a cracksman’s worst nightmare.
But, as his mother never tired of reminding him, he could do anything if he put his mind to it. He looked about the office, his eyes growing more and more accustomed with every passing moment to the faint light which filtered through the portholes. He found a pencil on the desk and some papers. Looking at the top sheet, he saw it was a receipt for an eight-inch shell gun. That meant nothing: all tea clippers carried cannon to defend themselves from pilongs, and a man like Bannatyne would want his ships to have the biggest and best guns money could buy. Searching in the drawers he found a bottle of rum and a tumbler. He took the tumbler and, on second thoughts, took a fortifying nip of Nelson’s blood straight from the bottle. Then he sat down cross-legged beside the safe. Chubb offered a reward of a thousand pounds to any man who could crack one of these things. Molineaux wondered if he would ever be able to claim the prize if he succeeded tonight.
He pressed the tumbler to the door of the safe and his ear to the tumbler. Then he slowly turned the dial until he heard the first, faint click. Left six. He made a note on the back of the piece of paper and then turned the dial clockwise until he heard the next click. Right eleven. Click. Another note. Left nineteen. Click. Right sixty-nine.
He grasped the handle, took a deep breath, turned it, and…
The safe stayed locked.
‘Bugger.’
He was about to start again when he heard what sounded like a pistol-shot. He thrust the paper inside his shirt and put the pencil and tumbler back where he had found them. Then he crossed to the door and opened it a crack. Two guards charged down the deck towards him. He quickly pushed the door to and reached for his Bowie knife, but the footsteps on the deck turned outside the deck house and clattered down a hatchway. He heard tense, muffled voices, and then the footsteps came back up the companionway, more slowly now.
‘Much obliged.’ Molineaux recognised Killigrew’s voice immediately outside the door. ‘I think your captain was trying to tell you the pistol was empty.’
Molineaux heaved a sigh of relief. It sounded as though the lieutenant had everything under control. He was about to go outside and help him when another voice spoke.
‘That’s all right, matey. So were our muskets.’
There was a pregnant pause, followed by a snap. Then there was a thump, a gasp, and another thump. Someone – Killigrew by the sound of it – groaned.
‘That be right good work, lads,’ a third voice declared a moment later. ‘Let’s drag him in the office, afore I be freezing to death.’
Still clutching his Bowie knife, Molineaux pressed himself up against the bulkhead beside the door and a moment later it was thrown open, partially concealing him. A hairy hand came round the door and reached for a greatcoat which hung on a hook an inch from Molineaux’s face. The hand was as likely to find his nose as the greatcoat. He took the coat off the peg and held it where the groping hand would find it. The coat was accepted and a moment later Captain Ingersoll, as naked as the day he was born, stepped into sight. He had his back to Molineaux as he shrugged on the coat. Beyond him, Molineaux saw a dazed-looking Killigrew being thrown into a chair.
‘Shall we tie him up, Cap’n?’ asked someone out of sight on the other side of the door.
‘Why bother?’ Ingersoll stepped out of sight again. A moment later he reappeared with a musket in his hands. ‘Be this primed and loaded?’
‘Aye, aye, Cap’n.’
‘Good.’ Ingersoll raised the stock to his shoulder and levelled it at Killigrew’s face from almost point-blank range. ‘There be only one way to deal with scum like this…’
Molineaux realised that in another second Killigrew would be dead. He had no way of knowing how many other people were in the room, but it seemed reasonable to suppose that Ingersoll was not the only one holding a musket. And Molineaux was armed only with a Bowie knife: intimidating enough to look at, but not when the other cove had a barking iron.
The sensible thing to do was to stay concealed and hope for the best. Killigrew had known what risks he was taking when he had suggested this hare-brained scheme, the same as Molineaux. Staying put was what Molineaux reckoned Killigrew would have done.
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No, Molineaux told himself. That’s what you’d like to think Killigrew would do if your places were reversed. But he 'd think of something, so think fast.
But he could not think of anything, except leaping out from behind the door and hoping that there were not too many of them, hoping that Killigrew was not as dazed as he seemed and would come to his aid, hoping that he would have the element of surprise.
Too much to hope for, but he was not going to stand there while they murdered Killigrew. He steeled himself to leap out and…
‘Scheisse! What do you think you’re doing?’ snapped a new voice.
‘Rat-catching, Reverend,’ said Ingersoll. ‘I caught this sonuvabitch…’
‘I can see that. Do you know who that is?’
‘Right enough. This be Killigrew. And if you think I be going to take any chances with him…’
The newcomer stepped into the room and Molineaux recognised him as the Reverend Werner Ultzmann. The missionary knocked the barrel of Ingersoll’s musket up. ‘Dumkopf! Don’t you know that Zhai Jing-mu wants this one alive?’
‘That be Zhai Jing-mu’s problem.’
‘It will be our problem if you kill him now. After Herr Verran so carelessly let him get away, Zhai already suspects we humbugged him. We need Zhai’s goodwill if the plan is to work out to our benefit; otherwise all the work we have done will have been for nothing!’ Ultzmann turned to someone out of Molineaux’s line of sight. ‘Tie him up.’
Another man stepped into sight and set to work binding Killigrew’s hands behind his back.
‘What do you intend to do with him?’
‘The next smug boat is due to arrive any moment now. When we’ve unloaded the tea and put the opium on board, I will take him with me. We’ll stop off at Zhai’s lair on our way to Swatow and I will hand him over to the pilongs. That way we regain the Triads’ trust and we will all be rid of Killigrew. Do not concern yourself, Captain Ingersoll. I shall make sure the tai-pan knows who it was that captured Killigrew.’
‘And if he escapes? Will you let him know whose fault that were?’
‘He won’t escape. Leave us. I wish to have a word in private with Herr Killigrew here.’
Ingersoll shooed his men out of the office and followed them out. He pulled the door to behind him, exposing Molineaux. Ultzmann had his back to the seaman, but Killigrew was fully conscious now and his eyes met Molineaux’s for a fraction of a second. The seaman had to give the young officer credit: his face registered no surprise and he quickly shifted his gaze to the missionary.
‘Zhai Jing-mu can kill me if he likes, but he’ll be wasting his time,’ said Killigrew. ‘You think we don’t know what the tai-pan’s up to? Feeding Zhai Jing-mu all the information he needs about shipping movements, and in return Zhai leaves his shipping alone. Oh, except for one overinsured floating coffin, for form’s sake.’
‘You blundering young idiot! I warned you once not to interfere in things which were no concern of yours, but you did not listen. Now you will die, and you have done nothing to halt Bannatyne’s plan.’
Molineaux still had his Bowie knife in his hand. He started to tiptoe across the deck towards Ultzmann’s back.
‘What plan would that be?’ asked Killigrew.
‘You think you’ll escape and foil it? Sorry, my friend. I am not a fool.’
Molineaux raised the knife, ready to strike Ultzmann on the back of his head with the heavy haft.
‘Whatever it is you’re planning to do, I beg you not to,’ said Killigrew.
Molineaux froze. Killigrew begging? That did not sound right.
‘I’m going to be taken to Zhai Jing-mu’s lair?’ asked the lieutenant.
‘I already said as much, didn’t I?’ Ultzmann said impatiently, still oblivious to Molineaux’s presence.
Molineaux realised that Killigrew was speaking for his benefit rather than Ultzmann’s. But at any moment the missionary was going to turn and see him. What the hell am I supposed to do, then? Molineaux mouthed at Killigrew.
‘You want my advice?’ asked Killigrew, his gaze fixed steadily on Ultzmann. ‘If I were you, I would lie low until all this is over. Better still, go to the British authorities in Victoria and tell them I’m being held prisoner.’
‘I… I cannot,’ said Ultzmann.
Molineaux tiptoed back to the door and laid his hand on the knob.
‘How much is Bannatyne paying you?’
Molineaux turned the doorknob and opened it a crack, praying no breeze would alert Ultzmann.
‘You think all I care about is money?’ Ultzmann demanded bitterly. ‘I am a man of the cloth!’
Molineaux glanced outside. There were no guards in view. He slipped out on deck.
‘A man of the cloth who’s been aiding and abetting piracy and murder! What sins is Bannatyne using to blackmail you, Reverend?’
Molineaux was curious to know himself, but he closed the door softly. Even then he hesitated, still tempted to go back in and deal with the missionary. Did Killigrew know what he was doing? Molineaux hoped so, for his sake.
He was about to make his way back to the anchor-chain when a door from one of the deck houses opened and light flooded across the deck. Molineaux climbed the companion ladder to the poop deck, grabbed the eaves of the aftermost deck house and swung himself up on to the roof. A moment later two guards emerged from a door and took up position outside the office where Ultzmann was speaking to Killigrew. There was no way Molineaux could get past them to the forecastle, and if he jumped overboard the splash would alert the guards. He lay flat and waited to see what would happen next.
‘Smug boat coming in, Cap’n…’ called a voice.
Molineaux glanced to the other side of the ship and saw a boat approaching from starboard.
‘They be late,’ said Ingersoll. ‘All right, the starboard watch can start unloading the opium and bringing the tea on board.’
The oarsmen on the smug boat shipped oars downwind of the hulk and moved into position alongside under sail power alone. When the boat was close enough, ropes were thrown across and it was made fast. Two gangplanks were lowered to the smug boat and several figures ascended to the opium hull. Molineaux shifted position so he could see what was going on.
‘Shall we go inside?’ Ingersoll suggested to the two Chinese who had ascended from the smug boat. He gestured to the door of the deck house and the three of them joined Ultzmann and Killigrew in the office. The door was closed.
Molineaux stood up and tiptoed forward across the roof. He cut loose a backstay and used it to swing across to the next deck house, his feet making barely a sound when he touched down. He spun round and crouched down, expecting men to come pouring out of the deck house and surround it.
‘All hands on deck!’ A bell was rung, and men came rushing up from the forward hatch to crowd the deck. But they were not looking for Molineaux. They formed two human chains, one down each of the gangplanks. As sacks of opium were passed down one gangplank to the smug boat, sacks of tea were handed up to the opium hulk and thrown down the main hatch. English clerks and Chinese schroffs kept a careful count of the number of sacks passing in each direction.
Molineaux could not move from the roof of the deck house while the exchange was carried out. He tried to get comfortable. He had a feeling he was in for a long wait.
The men worked quickly and cheerfully, as they might do on a public dockside. They might be working at night, but no one was making any attempt at secrecy: they sang shanties as they toiled in the full glare of the deck lights. And why shouldn’t they? They were not doing anything illegal as far as the British were concerned, and the Chinese had already shown a willingness to turn a blind eye time and time again, as long as they received their cumshaw.
Bannatyne’s massive comprador, Shen, emerged from one of the deck houses to watch. After a while he called for the proceedings to halt while he weighed a few sacks of tea chosen at random, and opened a couple to examine the quality of the dried l
eaves. With a nod of approval, he signalled for the sacks to be sewn up once more and the work continued.
The exchange took nearly three hours. Molineaux had to keep shifting his position during this time to stop himself from getting pins and needles. But he could not move while so much activity was taking place on deck.
Eventually all the opium had been brought up from the Buchan Prayer’s hold and the smug boat was packed to the gunwales. One of the Chinese called up from the boat in Cantonese, and a guard knocked on the door to Ingersoll’s office. ‘Laded and ready to go, Cap’n.’
A few moments later the door opened and Ingersoll emerged with Ultzmann and the two Chinese, escorting Killigrew at pistol-point between them.
‘Hope you know what you be doing, Reverend,’ Ingersoll said as the two Chinese escorted their prisoner down one of the gangplanks to the smug boat. ‘Remember: the Golden Dragon sails at midnight the night after tomorrow. If you’re late, you’ll be left behind.’
‘You think it wise to use the Dragon in this anchorage so publicly?’ asked Ultzmann.
‘Tai-pan’s decision, matey,’ said Ingersoll. ‘She’s got two knots on the White Tiger. Don’t worry, she’ll be disguised. Besides, by that time everyone will have too many problems of their own to worry about the Dragon any more.’
Ultzmann took his leave and made his way down to the smug boat. The mooring ropes were cast off and Molineaux watched helplessly as the crew pushed off from the side of the hulk and dipped their oars. As they rowed it towards the Cap-sing-mun Passage, Molineaux wondered where they were going, and what Killigrew’s chances of escaping were once he had found Zhai Jing-mu’s lair.
Ingersoll and Shen turned and went back inside the deck house while the rest of the crew went below, leaving only one or two guards out on deck. Molineaux realised that the sky had lightened considerably: dawn was less than an hour away.
He crawled across to the forward edge of the roof. A sentry stood immediately below. Molineaux reached down, grabbed the man’s neckerchief, and pulled it tight. The man struggled, but the neckerchief which dug into his windpipe choked off his cries. After a moment he stopped struggling. Molineaux jumped down and lowered his body to the deck. The man was still breathing and would wake up in a while with a splitting headache and a very sore throat.
Killigrew and the Golden Dragon Page 33