“Add hundred wat?” he said, his horror real.
“Tax my,” Struan said bluntly. “No like tax on head cow chillo slave my, chillo little my. Mandarin Ching-so werry plenty bad.”
“Tax on head chillo? Ayee yah! Plenty werry bad godrottee mandarin, werry!” Jin-qua said, pretending astonishment. He thanked his joss that he had heard about the reward and had already settled that matter quickly and adroitly, and had sent word through an intermediary to the English whore—and thus to Struan—just in case someone had attempted to collect the reward for May-may and the children before they were in safety.
“Jin-qua fix! Doan worry, heya? Jin-qua fix for frien’ in few days. Werry godrottee mandarin Ching-so. Bad, bad, bad.”
“Plenty bad,” Struan said. “Hard fix maybe, cost many lac. So no add one hundred lac. Add two hundred!”
“Jin-qua fix for frien’,” Jin-qua said soothingly. “No add one, no add two! Fix plenty quick-quick.” He smiled happily at the perfect solution he had already instigated. “Werry easy. Put other name on Ching-so list. One-Eye Mass’er cow chillo, and two cow chillo little.”
“What?” Struan exploded.
“Wat bad, heya?” What in the world is the matter? Jin-qua wondered. He had arranged a simple exchange—a worthless barbarian woman and two worthless girl children belonging to the man committed to Struan’s destruction in return for the safety of his own family. What’s wrong with that? How is it possible to understand the barbarian mind?
In God’s name, Struan was thinking, how can you understand these heathen devils? “No like list,” he said. “Na chillo my na chillo One-Eye Devil, na chillo any. Werry godrottee bad.”
Kidnaping certainly is very, very terrible, Jin-qua thought in agreement, for he was in constant fear that he or his children or his children’s children would be kidnaped and held for ransom. But some names have to go on the list in replacement. Whose? “Jin-qua not put cow chillo on list, never mind. I fix. No worry, heya?”
Struan said, “Add two hundred tax my, never mind.”
Jin-qua sipped his tea. “Tomollow Co-hong talkee L’ngs’ff, can?”
“Ching-so can.”
“Ching-so add Co-hong, heya?”
“Tomollow Ching-so can. Next day Co-hong can. Talkee how muchee tael. While talkee, we buy sell tea all same.”
“Finish talkee, trade can.”
“Talkee trade all same.”
Jin-qua argued and begged and tore his hair and eventually conceded. He had already obtained Ching-so’s agreement to begin trade immediately and had handed over half the agreed amount of squeeze—the other half to be due in six months. And he had already suggested the face-saving device that Ching-so would use to protect himself from the wrath of the emperor for disobeying orders: that the negotiations were to be protracted until the last ship was filled with tea and the last tael of bullion paid, at which time Ching-so would fall on the Settlement and burn and loot it and send fire ships against the barbarian merchantmen and drive them out of the Pearl River. Trading would lull the barbarians into a false sense of security and give time for the obviously necessary Chinese reinforcements to arrive. Thus the barbarians would be defenseless and Ching-so would win a great victory.
Jin-qua marveled at the beauty of the plan. For he knew that the barbarians would not be helpless. And that looting and burning the Settlement would infuriate them. And that they would instantly sail north from Canton and stab at the Pei Ho gate to Peking again. And that the instant the fleet appeared at the Pei Ho, the emperor would again sue for peace and the treaty would be in force again. The perfect treaty. It would be so because the Tai-Pan wanted the “perfect” treaty and “Odious Penis” was only the Tai-Pan’s dog.
And thus I avoid having to ransom our beloved Canton now, and avoid paying the other half of the squeeze, for of course Ching-so and his family are finessed into coffins underground where they belong—may that odious Fukienese usurer be impotent for the last few months that remain to him on earth! The “ransom” that will have to be found to placate the emperor now and the barbarians later will come from the profit on this season’s tea and silk and opium. And leave plenty of profit besides. How glorious and exciting life is!
“No worry chillo, heya? Jin-qua fix.”
Struan got up. “Add two hundred, tax my.” And he added sweetly, “Jin-qua say Ching-so: ‘Touch one hair cow chillo my, Tai-Pan bring fire-breathing sea dragon my. Eat Canton, never mind!”
Jin-qua smiled but shivered at the threat. He cursed all the way home. Now I’ll have to employ more spies and guards and spend more money to protect Struan’s children, not only against obvious duck-fornicating kidnapers but also against any jail offal who stupidly thinks he can make an easy dollar. Woe, woe, woe!
And once in the safety of his home, he kicked his favorite concubine and had thumbscrews put on two female slaves and then he felt much better. Later he slipped out of his house and went to a secret meeting place where he put on the scarlet ceremonial robes of his office. He was the Tai Shan Chu—the Supreme Leader of the Hung Mun Tong in South China. With lesser tong leaders, he heard the first report from the newly formed Hong Kong lodge. And confirmed Gordon Chen as its leader.
So, to the ecstatic delight and relief of the Chinese merchants and the traders, trade began. All the soldiers, except a token force of fifty men, were sent back to Hong Kong. The fleet returned to home harbor in Hong Kong. But H.M.S. Nemesis continued to patrol the river, surveying the approaches to Canton and charting all the waterways it found.
And the Settlement and the sea roads at Whampoa exploded with frantic competition day and night. The merchantmen had to be prepared for the delicate teas: the holds repainted and the bilges cleaned and made wholesome. Stores for the homeward voyage had to be found. Allocation of cargo space had to be settled.
The traders who owned no ships of their own—and there were many—descended on the shipowners and fought for choice cargo space on the best ships. Exorbitant freight rates were charged and gladly paid. The Noble House and Brock and Sons had always bought teas and silks and spices on their own account. But being canny, the Struans and Brocks also carried cargo for others and acted not only as shippers but as brokers and bankers and commission agents, both inbound to England and outbound. Outbound they would carry cargo for others—cotton goods, cotton yarn and spirits, mostly, but anything and everything that the industrial might of England produced, and anything that a trader thought would be marketable. Sometimes ships from other England companies would be consigned to them and they would accept the responsibility for selling the cargo, whatever it was, in Asia on commission, and finding an inbound cargo on commission. Outward bound the only cargo the Struans and Brocks bought was opium, cannon, gunpowder, and shot.
Bullion began to change hands, and Struan and Brock made small fortunes by providing the cash for other traders and taking bank paper on London. But the cash was to be delivered only when a ship and its cargo had passed the Bogue safely and was a day out into open sea.
This year Struan overrode Robb and kept all the cargo space of Blue Cloud for The Noble House alone, and all the teas and the silks for the house alone. Four hundred and fifty-nine thousand pounds of tea, gently crated in fifty-pound cedar-lined boxes, and five and a half thousand bales of silks began to fill the holds of Blue Cloud, around the clock: six hundred thousand pounds sterling if delivered safely in London Town, if she was first; one hundred and sixty thousand pounds of profit, if she was first.
And this year Brock kept the whole cargo of Gray Witch. She was to carry half a million pounds of tea and four thousand bales of silk. Like Struan, Brock knew that he would not sleep easily until the mail packet, six months ahead, brought the news of her safe arrival—and safe sale.
Longstaff was flushed with pride that he, and he alone, had reopened trade so easily and brought the Viceroy Ching-so personally to the bargaining table. “But, my dear Admiral, why else did I send away the three deputations, what? M
atter of face. Got to understand face and the heathen mentality. Negotiations and trade almost without firing a shot! And trade, my dear sir, trade is the lifeblood of England.”
He canceled the investing of Canton, which further infuriated the army and the navy. And he repeated what Struan reminded him: that he, Longstaff, had said in the past; “We must be magnanimous, gentlemen, to the defeated. And protect the meek. The trade of England can’t swim on the blood of the helpless, what? Negotiations will be concluded in a few days and Asia stabilized once and for all.”
But the negotiations were not concluded. Struan knew that there could be no conclusion at Canton. Only at Peking, or at the gate of Peking. And he wanted no conclusion yet. Only trade. The vital thing was to get the season’s teas and silks and dispose of the season’s opium. With the profit of the year’s trading all the merchant houses would recoup their loses. Profit would encourage them to hold on for another year and to expand. The only place to expand was Hong Kong. Profit and trade would buy vital time. Time to build warehouses and wharves and homes in their island haven. Time until the summer winds made the stab north again possible. Time to weather any storm until the next trading season next year. Time and the money to make Hong Kong safe—and the stepping-stone into Asia.
So Struan soothed away Longstaff’s impatience and kept the negotiations simmering and slammed into competition with Brock for the best of the teas and the silks, and the best of the shipping business. Eighteen clippers had to be filled and dispatched. Eighteen crews and captains had to be dealt with.
Brock got the Gray Witch away first and she tore downstream, her holds bulging. The final hatch of Blue Cloud was battened down half a day later and she charged in pursuit. The race was on.
Gorth ranted and raved because his ship had gone with a new captain, but Brock was inflexible. “It be no good with thy wound and thee be needed here.” So Gorth planned against the time that he would be Tai-Pan. The Tai-Pan, by God. He went back aboard Nemesis. Since the ship had steamed into harbor he had spent every spare moment in her, learning how to sail her, how to fight her, what she would do and what she would not do. For he knew, and his father knew, that Nemesis meant the death of sail—and, with joss, the death of The Noble House. Both knew of Struan’s abhorrence of steamers, and though they realized that the transition from sail to steam would be hazardous, they decided to gamble heavily on the future. The same wind and the same tide that Nemesis had beaten coming into Hong Kong harbor later carried the mail packet back to England. In the ship was a letter from Brock to his son Morgan. The letter canceled two of the clippers he had ordered and substituted the first two keels of Brock and Sons’ new steamship line. The Orient Queen Line.
“Tai-Pan,” May-may said in the darkness of their bedroom and in the comfort of their bed, “can I go back to Macao? For a few days? I take the children with me.”
“Are you tired of the Settlement?”
“No. But difficult here without all clotheses and children’s toys. Just for few days, heya?”
“I’ve already told you about the rewards, and I—”
She stopped his words with a kiss and moved closer into his warmth. “You smell so nice.”
“And you.”
“That Ma-ree Sin-clair. I liked her.”
“She’s—she’s got a lot of courage.”
“It was strange you sent woman. Na like you.”
“There was nae time to send anyone else.”
“Her Cantonese and Mandarin is fantastical good.”
“That’s a secret. You must na tell anyone.”
“Of course, Tai-Pan.”
The darkness thickened for both of them and they were lost in their own thoughts.
“Have you always slept without clotheses?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“How for do you na get chills?”
“I dinna ken. The Highlands are colder than here. As a bairn I was very poor.”
“What’s a bairn?”
“Child.”
She smiled. “I like to think of you as child. But you’re na poor now. And two of the three things are done. Aren’t they?”
“What things?” he asked, conscious of the perfume of her, and the touch of the silk that enclosed her.
“The first was to get the bullion, remember? The second to get Hong Kong safe. What was third?”
She turned onto her side and moved one of her legs over his and he lay motionless. But he felt the touch of her leg through the silk and waited, his throat parched. “Hong Kong’s na safe yet,” he said.
Her hand began to move over him. “With trade this year it is isn’t it? So the second will soon be done.”
“With joss.”
His hand loosened her sleeping gown without haste and his hand began to move over her. He helped her out of her sleeping gown and lit the candle and moved the silk sheets aside. He looked at her, filled with the wonder of her—the smooth lucency of her, like molten porcelain.
“It’s exciting—you looking at me, knowing I please you,” she said.
And then they loved, without haste.
Later she said, “When do you return to Hong Kong?”
“In ten days.” Ten days, he thought. Then the picking of Wu Kwok’s men at Aberdeen, and the next night the ball.
“Shall I go with you?”
“Aye.”
“Will the new house be ready then?”
“Aye. You’ll be safe there.” His arm was resting across her loins and he ran the tip of his tongue over her cheek and onto her throat.
“It will be good to live on Hong Kong. Then I will be able to see more of my teacher. It’s months since I had good talk with Gordon. Perhaps we could have weekly lessons again? I need to learn more and better words. How is he?”
“Fine. I saw him just before I left.”
After a pause she said gently. “It’s na good to have fight with your number-one son.”
“I know.”
“I burn three candles that your anger flies to Java and you forgive him. When you forgive him I would like to meet him.”
“You will. In time.”
“Can I go to Macao before Hong Kong? Please. I would be very careful. I would leave the children here. They would be safe here.”
“Why’s Macao so important?”
“I need things and—it’s secret, a nice one, a surprise secret. Only few days? Please. You could send Mauss and some of the men if you wish.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Na dangerous now,” May-may said, knowing that their names were off the list, and filled with astonishment again that Struan had not clapped his hands with delight—as she had—when he had told her of Jin-qua’s solution to the list. Ayee yah, she thought, Europeans are very strange. Very. “Nae danger now. Even so I would be very careful.”
“What’s so important? What secret?”
“Surprise secret. I tell you very soon. But secret now.”
“I’ll think about it. Now sleep.”
May-may relaxed contentedly, knowing that in a few days she would be going to Macao, knowing that there are many ways for a woman to get her way with her man—good or bad, clever or stupid, strong or weak. My ball gown will be the bestest, the very bestest, she told herself excitedly. My Tai-Pan will be proud of me. So very proud. Proud enough to marry me and make me his Supreme Lady.
And her last thought before sweet sleep took her was of the child that was budding in her womb. Only a few weeks agrowing. My child will be a son, she promised herself. A son for him to be proud of. Two wonderful surprise secrets for him to be proud of.
“I dinna ken, Vargas,” Struan said peevishly. “You’d better take this up with Robb. He knows the figures better than I.”
They were in Struan’s private office, poring over the ledger. The windows of the office were open to the hum of Canton, and the flies were swarming. It was a warm spring day and already the stench had grown appreciably from its winter low.
&nbs
p; “Jin-qua is very anxious to have our final order, senhor, and—”
“I know that. But until he gives us his final order of opium we canna do that accurately. We’re offering the best price on tea and the best on opium, so what’s the delay?”
“I don’t know, senhor,” Vargas said. He did not ask, as he would have liked to, why The Noble House was paying ten percent more for Jin-qua’s teas than other traders, and selling the best Indian Padwa opium to Jin-qua at ten percent under the current market price.
“Devil take it!” Struan said, and poured some tea. He wished he hadn’t allowed May-may to go to Macao. He had sent Ah Sam with her, and Mauss and some of his men to watch over them. She had been due to return yesterday but was still not back. Of course that was not unusual—the passage from Macao to the Canton Settlement could never be judged exactly. No sea voyage could. Na when you have to depend on the wind, he thought sardonically. If she was in a stinkpot steamer, that would be different. Steamers can hit schedules and forget winds and forget tides, godrot them.
“Aye?” he snapped harshly at a knock on the door.
“Excuse me, Mr. Struan,” Horatio said, opening the door. “His Excellency would like you to wait on him.”
“What’s amiss?”
“Perhaps His Excellency should tell you, sir. He’s in his quarters.”
Struan closed the ledger. “We’ll take this up with Robb as soon as we get back, Vargas. You’re coming to the ball?”
“I’d get no peace for the next ten years, senhor, if my lady, my son and my eldest daughter weren’t there.”
“Are you fetching them from Macao?”
“No, senhor. They’re being escorted to Hong Kong by friends. I’ll go direct from here.”
“As soon as Mauss returns, send me word.” Struan walked out and Horatio fell into step.
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Struan, for Mary’s gift.”
“What?”
“The ball gown, sir.”
Tai-Pan Page 37