by Mouse
ShaoShu nodded.
“It looks like your major bindings converge right over your midsection,” LoBak said. “If he makes it all the way through, there is a good chance you might be able to wriggle free!”
ShaoShu grinned. “That's exactly what I was thinking.”
CHAPTER
17
“Ahoy, friend!” Charles shouted in Dutch to the fishing boat drifting across the mouth of Smuggler's Island cove. “Permission to enter your sheltered waters?”
“Why, Charles!” one of the fishermen replied in the same language. “What have you done to your sloop? Come in! Come in!”
Charles steered his newly changed sloop toward the cove's calm waters in the fading daylight. He'd modified his boat's rigging so much and painted it such a different color that even he had a hard time recognizing it.
The fishing boat gave way, and the fishermen began hoisting several flags in quick succession. Charles waved to the man who'd greeted him, and while he recognized his face, he didn't recall his name. Nor could he interpret the signal flag messages that were flying up and down the fishing boat's mast.
It had been a while since Charles had had to interpret signal flags, but he should have been able to decipher at least some of the message. The fact that he couldn't meant that Captain Henrik wasn't there. Some one else was in charge.
As Charles’ sloop slipped through the cove, he saw only one ship moored there—a schooner that belonged to a Captain Rutger. No other boats were in sight, which was odd. Charles had never seen fewer than three ships in the cove at any one time. Usually there were five or more.
Hok walked over to his side. “Is everything all right? You look concerned.”
“Everything is fine,” Charles replied.
Hok scanned their surroundings and pointed toward the vessel patrolling the mouth of the cove. “That's not really a fishing boat, is it?”
“Sure it is,” Charles said. “They're trolling for tomorrow's breakfast. Fish like to inhabit the narrow breakwater where the cove meets the ocean. As you've guessed, the fishermen are also sentries. They are the first line of defense in case there is an attack.” He pointed to a cluster of trees on each side of the cove's rocky mouth. “The second line of defense is the cannons positioned in those two tree groupings. If the fishermen were to give the signal, we would be blown out of the water.”
Hok nodded and looked back at him, staring with unblinking eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“There is something troubling you. I can sense it. I thought you would be happy to be back among your friends.”
“I am happy,” Charles said. “Sort of. I didn't say anything earlier because I didn't want to get your hopes up, but I had thought your father, Captain Henrik, would be here. I thought his crew would be, too. My crew.”
Hok continued to stare at him, her expression unchanged.
“I am certain he is not here, though,” Charles went on. “His ship is not in the cove, and they aren't using his signal book. Another captain is in charge right now. Captain Rutger is a good man. You'll like him.”
Hok looked away, over the side. “I remember you once told me that my father was conducting business in the south. I guess I hoped he would be here, too. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever see him again.”
“We'll know more after we talk with Captain Rutger. Look, there he is, aboard his schooner.”
Charles pointed to a slender man in his forties with bright intelligent eyes. He had brown hair, broad shoulders, and a strong chin. He stood like a rock, grinning, upon the poop deck.
“Ahoy, Captain Rutger!” Charles called out in Dutch. “Permission to come aboard?”
“Charles!” Captain Rutger replied in Chinese with a warm laugh. “Permission granted! A hearty welcome to you and your mates!”
Charles glanced back at Fu in the stern, then up at Malao in the rigging. “We're going to tie off to that large boat,” Charles said. “Prepare to drop sail on my mark. Ready … and … release sheets!”
Fu and Malao raced about, lowering the sails with seaman-like precision. Charles expertly steered his sloop alongside the schooner, the sides of the vessels bumping gently, and Captain Rutger dropped them a line. Charles tied off his boat and climbed aboard the schooner, followed by Hok, Malao, and Fu.
“Welcome aboard,” Captain Rutger said in perfect Mandarin. “Any friends of Charles’ are friends of mine. To make things more comfortable, I shall speak in your native tongue.”
“Me too,” Charles said.
“Thank you,” Hok said. She, Fu, and Malao bowed.
“Please,” Captain Rutger said. “Dispense with the formalities. We shall spend a small amount of time getting acquainted; then we will eat. After seeing the signal flags, I knew we were expecting friends. I am doubly pleased that it is you, Charles. I've taken the liberty of having my cook throw something together. I suppose you are famished.”
Charles saw Fu's eyes light up.
“Thank you,” Charles said. “We left in a hurry before sunrise and didn't pack any supplies besides water. We're starving.”
“Come below, then,” Captain Rutger said. “We shall set you up straightaway.”
As they crossed the deck, Charles watched Hok, Fu, and Malao marvel over what they saw. There were innumerable sheets, stays, ratlines, and ropes running in every direction, connecting the schooner's three towering masts to rows of reefed sails. Weathered sailors lounged about, darning socks or smoking cigars, and caged chickens and rabbits darted within their on-deck enclosures under the watchful eye of the ship's goat, whose sole purpose was to provide milk each morning for the officers’ tea.
How Charles missed seafaring life. It was like having an entire city squeezed into a space not much larger than an average house. It made him feel secure.
They climbed belowdecks and weaved their way through rows of hammocks filled with sleeping men. These men would make up the second watch, and Charles recognized a few of the bearded faces. He looked forward to catching up with them.
As they neared Captain Rutger's cabin, Charles detected the smell of bacon. His mouth began to water and his stomach growled. Fu turned to him with eager eyes and said, “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes, it is,” Charles replied happily. “I hope you don't mind bacon for dinner. Considering all those chickens on deck, we'll likely have fresh eggs, too. We typically eat this combination for breakfast, and it might seem a little odd.”
Fu grinned. “Any man who serves breakfast food for dinner is a friend of mine!”
Captain Rutger laughed, and he led them into his private dining cabin, just aft of his living quarters. In the center of the room was a large table hanging from a series of ropes, designed to accommodate the ship's sway. Several benches were nailed to the floor around it. Fortunately, none of these precautions would be necessary while they were in the calm waters of the cove.
“This is neat!” Malao said, giving the swinging table a shove.
“So it is,” Captain Rutger said. “Please, sit down and tell me what brings you here. I hope it wasn't to see Captain Henrik. He left this morning with most of our squadron to conduct some business in Taiwan.”
Captain Rutger gave Hok a curious look as they all sat, and Charles thought he saw Hok blush.
“Why are you looking at me that way, sir?” Hok asked. “Do you know me?”
“I believe I do,” Captain Rutger replied. “Your appearance is an interesting combination of two people I respect greatly. Namely, Captain Henrik and his strong, beautiful wife, Bing. You wouldn't happen to be OnYeen, would you?”
“I am,” Hok replied. “Only, I am called ‘Hok’ now. These are my temple brothers, Fu and Malao. We are here because Charles thought you might give us refuge for a few nights. We have reason to believe that a general from the north known as Tonglong is looking for us.”
“That sounds serious,” Captain Rutger said.
“It is,” Hok replied. “We don't inten
d to stay long, though. We've been discussing it, and we hope to find a way to get back to the north to join up with my mother and other members of a group that some call ‘bandits’ but others call ‘the Resistance.’ My brothers and I all have friends or family in the group, including another temple brother, a boy called Seh.”
“I see,” said Captain Rutger. “Charles did the right thing bringing you here. You will be safe. If you feel you can wait five or six days, so much the better. Your father will have returned by then, and I would bet my right arm that he will personally take you to your friends—that is, unless you would prefer to remain here with him for a while. The political climate is much more stable in this region, and I am certain your father would enjoy spending some time with all of you.”
“We don't wish to inconvenience anyone,” Hok said.
“Nonsense,” Captain Rutger said. “Nothing would please me more. I have some knowledge of what the three of you have been through, including the destruction of your temple and your flight down the Grand Canal with that horrible creature Ying. I respect your courage, Hok.”
“Ying isn't what he appears to be on the surface,” Hok said in a cool tone. “How did you learn about these things?”
Captain Rutger raised his hands. “I am sorry if I've offended you. Our main source of intelligence concerning you and a host of other matters is a man called HukJee, a powerful black-market dealer in the northern city of Jinan. We intercept weapons shipments intended for a local warlord called HaiZhe here in the south and sell them to HukJee in the north. He pays us with information as often as he pays us with gold. We work almost exclusively with him, because we know he sells nearly all of his weapons to the Resistance. As you know, they oppose the Emperor's habit of living extravagantly while taxing the life out of China's poorest citizens. While we come from another land, we support their cause. And since we need to earn a living, this seems as honorable an occupation as any.”
“Have you heard anything recently?” Charles asked.
“We've heard rumors that General Tonglong appears to be up to something big. So big that the Resistance feels they may need to shift their focus from the Emperor to Tonglong. They plan to keep an equally close eye on his mother, AnGangseh. They are a slippery pair.”
A man came into the dining cabin carrying the largest platter of pork Charles had ever seen. Bacon, ham, pork chops, pickled pig's feet, and soused pig's face were piled precariously high. His mouth began to water, and across the table, he heard Fu's stomach grumble. Hok and Malao, however, looked like they were going to be sick.
“I think I'm going to step outside,” Hok said.
“Me too,” Malao muttered.
“Make sure you come back in time for the next course,” Captain Rutger said. “I believe it is blood pudding!”
Hok looked at Malao, and Malao swallowed hard.
“Perhaps Malao and I will just turn in for the night,” Hok said. “We've had a long day.”
“As you wish,” Captain Rutger said, standing. “I will take you to see my bosun. If you'd like something else to eat, just let him know. He will also clear a cabin for the four of you and sling your hammocks. I hope you don't mind bunking in the same room. It's a tight ship.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hok said. “We'll be fine.”
Charles, Malao, and Fu echoed her thanks.
Captain Rutger stepped away from the table. “As much as I'd love to join you in this lovely meal, I should get back to my watch. Charles, I suggest you move your sloop to the far side of the island before you go to sleep tonight. I know it's a lot of work, but with all this talk of Tonglong, I would feel better knowing your ship was outside the cove. I feel a bit like a sitting duck here with the entire squadron out. I expect the seas to be calm for at least the next day, so you should have no trouble mooring her offshore. Have the fishing boat follow you to bring you back here.”
“Aye, sir,” Charles said between bites. “Fu and I can do it as soon as we finish eating.”
Fu nodded his consent, grease dribbling down his chin.
“Excellent,” Captain Rutger said, looking around the cabin. “Will you all be so kind as to join me here in the morning for breakfast? Say, an hour after sunrise?”
Charles and Fu nodded in enthusiastic agreement, their cheeks stuffed to the breaking point. Hok and Malao nodded politely, too.
“Very well,” Captain Rutger said. “We shall meet again in the morning. Let us find a place for you to get some rest. With the current state of things, who knows what is going to happen next.”
CHAPTER
18
AnGangseh sat in the back of the imperial sedan chair, stroking the Emperor's thinning hair. The gates of Shanghai were in sight. She leaned her perfect face over and purred in his ear, “Tell me, my dear, what is on the agenda for the next few days?”
The Emperor shifted in his seat and adjusted his brilliant yellow hat. “Fight club activities, of course. I have a few other things to attend to, but they are none of your concern.”
AnGangseh ran a long fingernail along the side of his neck. “You know how much I enjoy witnessing great men in action, Your Highness. Won't you invite me to at least one of your meetings?”
“You shall see plenty of great men in action in the pit arena,” the Emperor replied, pushing her hand away. “Lei—Thunder—is to fight Golden Dragon. It is sure to be spectacular.”
“Lei and Golden Dragon are but children. Will the warlords be there?”
“Of course. They wouldn't miss it for the world.”
“Even Xie's father?” AnGangseh asked, glancing out the sedan-chair window at a giant of a man riding atop a surprisingly small horse. Xie, or Scorpion, was the Emperor's personal bodyguard. He glared at AnGangseh, a look of disgust on his face.
“Yes,” the Emperor said. “The Western Warlord will be there, too. Though he rarely travels this far south or this far east, he recognizes what a great championship this will be. He will also be meeting with me and the other warlords. We shall have a splendid time, unless that uncouth Southern Warlord, HaiZhe, ruins it. He can be such a pest sometimes.”
“Will you introduce me to them?” AnGangseh asked.
“I shall. You will join us in my private box during the bouts. Perhaps I will also allow you to attend one of our intimate postfight gatherings. Would you like that?”
AnGangseh looked deeply into the Emperor's eyes. “You have no idea how much that would please me.”
“Then I shall make it so,” he said, glancing away. “A meeting like that might change your life forever.”
AnGangseh smirked. “I am counting on it.”
Outside, Xie's horse whinnied loudly, and the sedan chair came to an abrupt halt.
“What is going on?” the Emperor demanded.
“It appears to be a messenger approaching, sir,” Xie said. “He wears a soldier's uniform. Please remain inside until I determine whether or not he is a threat.”
The sound of pounding hooves drew near, and AnGangseh pulled her wide black hood over her head. She leaned out the window and saw a man racing toward them on a horse. The horse was heaving, its sides thick with sweat and its mouth foaming.
Xie positioned himself well away from the sedan chair and hailed the rider. The rider slowed and finally stopped before Xie. He dug through a large bag attached to his saddle and handed two items to Xie. One was a small scroll. The other was a square wooden box with sides roughly the length of Xie's forearm. Xie shook the box, and the rider grimaced.
“Is there a problem?” Xie asked.
“No, sir,” the rider replied.
“On your way, then,” Xie said.
The rider left, and Xie headed for the sedan chair atop his horse. He handed the box and the scroll to the Emperor through an open window and retreated, muttering something under his breath.
AnGangseh looked at the items and grinned. The small scroll was obviously for her. Its wax seal contained the imprint of a cobra. As for the box, it h
ad been quite ornate at one time, but now the tight-fitting seams were stained with dark brown blotches, and the fine hinges were corroded. On the lid was a clump of hardened wax imprinted with the image of a mantis.
“Do you recognize these seals?” the Emperor asked.
AnGangseh nodded. “The ssscroll is for me. I believe the box is for you.”
“What's in it? It is surprisingly heavy.”
“Good news, I think,” AnGangseh said. “Aren't you going to open it?”
The Emperor looked at her hesitantly. “It smells awful.”
“I'll do it, then,” she said, taking the box. “Let me ask you a question first. How would you feel if you no longer had to deal with HaiZhe, the man you just referred to as ‘uncouth’ and a ‘pest’?”
“I don't know. I suppose that would depend on who were to replace him.”
“What about my ssson?”
The Emperor's eyebrows rose up. “Tonglong? I am sure he could easily find justification to unseat HaiZhe, but HaiZhe is far too cunning to ever let anyone get close enough to even talk with him, let alone demand that he step down.”
“What if Tonglong was to eliminate him?”
“Tonglong eliminate HaiZhe and become the Southern Warlord?”
“Perhaps.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I am sssaying that Tonglong is very ambitious,” AnGangseh said, “and he happens to be in the area. He is certainly up to sssomething. Anyone who wronged his father had better be wary. HaiZhe was on that list. Do you know about Tonglong's father?”
“I do,” the Emperor said. “My family may be on that list, too. I have cousins in the south.”
AnGangseh stroked the Emperor's arm. “Then you should keep your eyes open. I will do the sssame. If I notice anything sssuspicious, I promise I will notify you immediately. All I ask in return is that you remember me as the one who is looking out for you.”
“I suppose I should never underestimate anyone,” the Emperor said. “Least of all a former Fight Club Grand Champion like Tonglong. Just how far is he willing to go?”