Tai-Pan

by James Clavell

  “Na Mary! She’s very strong. She’d na do that.”

  Falarian Guineppa steepled his fine fingers. A shaft of sun turned the huge ruby ring molten. “If she were to put herself totally in Father Sebastian’s hands—and in the hands of the Church of Christ—we could turn her damnation into a blessing. That would be the best for her. I believe with all my heart that this is the only real solution. But if this is not possible, before she is released I must pass over the responsibility for her to someone who will accept it.”

  “I’ll accept that.”

  “Very well, but I do not think you are wise, senhor. Even so, your life and soul—and hers—are also in the hands of God. I pray that you and she will be given the gift of understanding. Very well. Before she leaves I will do everything in my power to try to save her soul—but as soon as she is fit enough to leave, I will send word.”

  The cathedral clock chimed five o’clock.

  “How is Archduke Zergeyev’s wound?”

  Struan’s eyebrows knotted. “This is the second thing that cannot wait?”

  “For you Britons, perhaps.”

  Falarian Guineppa opened a drawer and pulled out a heavily sealed leather briefcase. “I have been asked to give you this prudently. It seems that certain diplomatic authorities are most concerned with the archduke’s presence in Asia.”

  “The Church authorities?”

  “No, senhor. I am asked to tell you that you can, if you wish, pass on the documents. I understand certain seals prove their validity.” A faint smile passed across his face. “The case too is sealed.”

  Struan recognized the seal of the governor-general’s office. “Why should I be given diplomatic secrets? There are diplomatic channels. Mr. Monsey is within half a mile of here and His Excellency is in Hong Kong. Both are very well acquainted with protocol.”

  “I’m giving you nothing. I’m merely doing what I was asked to do. Don’t forget, senhor, as much as I personally detest what you stand for, you are a power at the Court of St. James’s, and your trade connections are worldwide. We live in hazardous times and Portugal and Britain are ancient allies. Britain has been a good friend to Portugal and it is wise for friends to help each other, no? Perhaps it is as simple as that.”

  Struan took the proffered briefcase.

  “I will send word as soon as the Lo Ting courier returns,” Falarian Guineppa said. “At whatever hour that may be. Would you like Father Sebastian to examine the lady?”

  “I dinna ken,” Struan said, rising. “Perhaps. I’d like to think about that, Your Grace.”

  “At your pleasure, senhor.” The bishop hesitated. “Go with God.”

  “Go with God, Your Grace,” Struan said.

  “Hello, Tai-Pan,” Culum said, his head pounding and his tongue like dried dung.

  “Hello, lad.” Struan put down the still-unopened briefcase which had been burning him all the way home. He went to the sideboard and poured a stiff brandy.

  “Food, Mass’er Culum?” Lo Chum said brightly. “Pig? Potats? Gravee? Heya?”

  Culum shook his head weakly and Struan dismissed Lo Chum. “Here,” he said, giving Culum the brandy.

  “I couldn’t,” Culum said, nauseated. “Drink it.”

  Culum swallowed it. He choked and quickly drank more of the tea that was beside the bed. He lay back, his temples thundering.

  “Would you like to talk? Tell me what happened?”

  Culum’s face was gray and the whites of his eyes dirty pink. “I can’t remember anything. God, I feel terrible.”

  “Start from the beginning.”

  “I was playing whist with Gorth and a few of our friends,” Culum said with an effort. “I remember winning about a hundred guineas. We’d been drinking quite a bit. But I remember putting the winnings in my pocket. Then—well, the rest is blank.”

  “Do you remember where you went?”

  “No. Not exactly.” He drank more tea thirstily and wiped his face with his hands, trying to clean away the ache. “Oh God, I feel like death!”

  “Do you remember which whorehouse you went to?” Culum shook his head.

  “Do you have a regular one that you’ve been going to?”

  “Good God, no!”

  “Nae need to get on your high horse, laddie. You’ve been to one—that’s clear. You’ve been rolled, that’s clear. Your liquor was drugged, that’s clear.”

  “I was drugged?”

  “It’s the oldest trick in the world. That’s why I told you never to go to a house unrecommended by a man you could trust. Is this the first time you’ve been to a house in Macao?”

  “Yes, yes. Good Lord, I was drugged?”

  “Now use your head. Think, lad! Do you remember the house?”

  “No—nothing. Everything’s blank.”

  “Who picked the house for you, eh?”

  Culum sat up in the bed. “We were drinking and gaming. I was, well, pretty drunk. Then, well, everyone was talking about—about girls. And houses. And, well”—he looked at Struan, his shame and torment open—“I was just—well, with the liquor and—I felt, well, on fire for a girl. I just decided that I had—had to go to a house.”

  “Nae harm in that, lad. Who gave you the address?”

  “I think … I don’t know—but I think they each gave me one. They wrote addresses—or told me addresses, I can’t remember. I do remember going out of the Club. There was a chair waiting and I got into it. Wait a minute—I remember now! I told him to go to the F and E!”

  “They’d never roll you there, laddie. Or put a drug in your drink. Or deliver you back like that. More than their reputation’s worth.”

  “No. I’m sure. That’s what I told the man. Yes. I’m absolutely sure!”

  “Which way did they take you? Into Chinatown?”

  “I don’t know. I seem to remember—I don’t know.”

  “You said you felt ‘on fire.’ What sort of fire?”

  “Well, it was like … I remember being very hot and, well—God’s death, I’m frantic with desire for Tess, and what with the liquor and everything … I’ve had no peace, so—so I went to the house …” The words trailed off. “Oh God, my head’s bursting. Please leave me alone.”

  “Were you carrying protections?”

  Culum shook his head.

  “This fire. This urge. Was it different last night?”

  Again Culum shook his head. “No. It’s been like it for weeks but—well, in a way I suppose it was—well no, not exactly. I was hard as a piece of iron and my loins were on fire and I just had to have a girl and, oh, I don’t know. Leave me alone! Please—I’m sorry, but please …”

  Struan went to the door. “Lo Chum-ahhh!”

  “Yes, Mass’er?”

  “Go-ah house Chen Sheng. Get number-one cow chillo sick doctor quick-quick here-ah! Savvy?”

  “Savvy plentee good-ah!” Lo Chum said huffily. “A’ready werry plenty good-ah doctor downstair for head boom-boom sick and all sick-sick. Young Mass’er like Tai-Pan—all same, never mind!”

  Downstairs, Struan talked to the doctor through Lo Chum. The doctor said that he would send the medicines and special foods promptly, and he accepted a generous fee.

  Struan went back upstairs.

  “Can you remember anything else, lad?”

  “No—nothing. Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump at you.”

  “Listen to me, lad! Come on, Culum, it’s important!”

  “Please, Father, don’t talk so loudly,” Culum said, opening his eyes forlornly. “What?”

  “It sounds as though you’ve been slipped an aphrodisiac.”

  “What?”

  “Aye, aphrodisiac. There’re dozens that could be put into a drink.”

  “Impossible. It was just the liquor and my—my need of … it’s impossible!”

  “There are only two explanations. First, that the coolies took you to a house—and it wasn’t the Macao branch of the F and E—where they’d get more squeeze for a rich custo
mer and a share of the robbery to boot. There the girl or girls drugged you, rolled you and delivered you back. For your sake, that’s what I hope happened. The other possibility is that one of your friends gave you the aphrodisiac at the Club, arranged for the chair to be waiting for you—and for a particular house.”

  “That’s nonsense! Why’d someone do that? For a hundred guineas and a ring and watch? One of my friends? That’s madness.”

  “But say someone hated you, Culum. Say the plan was to put you with a diseased girl—one who has the pox!”

  “What?”

  “Aye. That’s what I’m afraid’s happened.” Culum died for an instant. “You’re just trying to frighten me.”

  “By the Lord God, my son, I am na. But it is one very definite possibility. I’d say it’s more likely than the other because you were brought back.”

  “Who’d do that to me?”

  “You have to answer that one, laddie. But even if that’s what happened, all’s na lost. Yet. I’ve sent for Chinese medicines. You’re to drink them all, wi’out fail.”

  “But there’s no cure for the pox!”

  “Aye. Once the disease is settled. But the Chinese believe you can kill the pox poison or whatever causes it, if you take precautions at once to purify your blood. Years ago when I first came out here, the same thing happened to me. Aristotle found me in a gutter in the Chinese quarter and got a Chinese doctor and I was all right. That’s how I met him—why he’s been my friend for so long. I canna be sure the house—or the girl—was diseased or na, but I never got the pox.”

  “Oh God help me.”

  “Aye. We’ll na know for certain for a week. If there’s nae swelling or pain or discharge by then—you’ve escaped this time.” He saw the terror in his son’s eyes, and his compassion went out to him. “A week of hell’s ahead of you, laddie. Waiting to find out. I know what it’ll be like—so dinna fash yoursel’. I’ll help all I can. Same way Aristotle helped me.”

  “I’ll kill myself. I’ll kill myself if I … oh God, how could I have been so foolish? Tess! Oh God, I’d better tell—”

  “You’ll do nae such thing! You tell her you were jumped by robbers on your way home. We’ll report it as such. You’ll tell your friends the same. That you think you must have had too much to drink—after the girl. That you can na remember anything except you’re sure you had a great time and woke up here. And for the week you’ll act as you normally act.”

  “But Tess! How can I—”

  “That’s what you’ll do, laddie! That’s what you’ll do, by God.”

  “I can’t, Father, it’s just imp—”

  “And under no circumstances will you tell anyone about the Chinese medicines. Dinna go to a house until we know for certain, and dinna touch Tess until you’re married.”

  “I’m so ashamed.”

  “Nae need for that, laddie. It’s difficult being young. But in this world it’s up to a man to watch his back. There’re a lot of mad dogs around.”

  “You’re saying it was Gorth?”

  “I’m saying nothing. Do you think that?”

  “No, of course not. But that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”

  “Dinna forget, you’ve got to act normally or you’ll lose Tess.”

  “Why?”

  “You think Liza and Brock’d allow you to marry Tess if they find out you’re so immature and stupid that you’ll go whoring in Macao drunk—and to an unknown whorehouse and get filled with love potions and rolled? If I was Brock I’d say you had na enough sense to be my son-in-law!”

  “Sorry.”

  “You get some rest, laddie. I’ll be back later.”

  And all the way to May-may’s house Struan was deciding on the way to kill Gorth—if Culum had the pox. The cruelest way. Aye, he thought coldly, I can be very cruel. This will na be just a simple killing—or quick. By God!

  “You look terrible, Culum darling,” Tess said. “You really ought to have an early night.”

  “Yes.”

  They were promenading along the praia in the night quiet. It was after dinner, and his head was clearer but his agony almost unbearable.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, sensing his torment.

  “Nothing, darling. I just drank too much. And those highwaymen weren’t very gentle. By the Lord God, I’m forswearing drink for a year.” Please God, don’t let anything happen. Hurry the week—and let nothing happen.

  “Let’s go back,” she said, and taking his arm firmly, turned him toward the Brock residence. “A good night’s rest will do you the world of good.” She felt very maternal and couldn’t help feeling happy that he was almost helpless. “I’m glad you’re forswearing drink, my dear. Father gets terrible drunk sometimes—and Gorth, my word, many’s the time I seed him besotted.”

  “‘I’ve seen him,’” he said, correcting her.

  “I’ve seen him besotted. Oh, I’m so glad we’ll soon be wed.”

  What possible reason could Gorth have for doing that? Culum asked himself. The Tai-Pan must be exaggerating. He must be.

  A servant opened the door and Culum took Tess into the parlor.

  “Back so soon, luvs?” Liza said.

  “I’m a little tired, Ma.”

  “Well, I’ll be off,” Culum said. “See you tomorrow. Will you be going to the cricket match?”

  “Oh yes, let’s, Ma!”

  “Mayhaps thee’ll escort us, Culum lad?”

  “Thank you. I’d like that. See you tomorrow.” Culum kissed Tess’s hand. “Good night, Mrs. Brock.”

  “Night, lad.”

  Culum turned for the door just as Gorth was entering. “Oh, hello, Gorth.”

  “Hello, Culum. I were waiting for thee. Just going for a drink at the Club. Come along.”

  “Not tonight, thanks. I’m all in. Too many late nights. And there’s the cricket tomorrow.”

  “A drink won’t hurt thee. After thy beating it be best.”

  “Not tonight, Gorth. Thanks, though. See you tomorrow.”

  “As thee wish, old lad. Now, take care of thyself.” Gorth closed the front door behind him.

  “Gorth, what happened last night?” Liza scrutinized him.

  “Poor lad got in his cups. I be leaving Club as I told thee, afore him, so I doan know. Wot’d he sayed, Tess?”

  “Just that he drank too much, and that the highwaymen fell on him.” She laughed. “Poor Culum—I think he’ll be cured of the demon drink for a long time.”

  “Would thee get my cheroots, Tess luv?” Gorth said. “They be in’t dresser.”

  “Certainly,” Tess said and ran out.

  “I heared,” Gorth said, “I heared our Culum lad’s been kicking over the traces like.”

  “Wot?” Liza stopped her sewing.

  “Baint harmful,” Gorth said. “Mayhaps I shouldn’t’ve sayed it. Baint harmful if a man’s careful, by God. Thee knowed wot a man’s like.”

  “But he be marrying our Tess! She baint marrying no rake.”

  “Yes. I thinks I be havin’ a talk with the lad. Best be careful in Macao and no doubt about that’n. If Da’ were here’d be different. But I’ve to protect the family—and the poor lad from weaknesses. Thee’ll say na about this, now!”

  “Of course not.” Liza hated that which made men masculine. Why baint they controlling theyselves? Mayhaps I better be rethinking this marriage. “Tess baint marrying no rake. But Culum baint that way at all. Are thee sure wot thee’s saying?”

  “Yes,” Gorth said. “At least that’s what some of the lads sayed.”

  “I wisht yor da’ were here.”

  “Yes,” Gorth said, then added as though making a sudden decision, “I think I be visiting Hong Kong for a day or two. I’ll talk to Da’. That be best. Then I be talking to Culum proper. I be leaving on the tide.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Struan finished the last page of the English translation of the Russian documents. He slowly tidied the pages and put the
m back in the briefcase and let it rest on his lap.

  “And?” May-may asked. “Why for so fantastical silent, heya?” She was propped in bed, under a mosquito net, her gold silk gown making her skin whiter.

  “Nothing, lass.”

  “Put bisnesses away and talk to me. For one hour you are like scholar.”

  “Let me think for five minutes. Then I’ll talk to you, eh?”

  “Huh,” she said. “If I was na sicknesses, then you’d be bedding all time.”

  “Och aye, lassie.” Struan went to the garden door and stared up at the night sky. The stars were brilliant and the heavens foretold good weather.

  May-may settled into the bed and watched him. He’s looking very tired, she thought. Poor Tai-Pan, so many troubles.

  He had told her about Culum and his fears for him, but not about Gorth. He had also said that there was fever bark to be had, within a few days. And he had told her about Mary and had cursed Ah Tat.

  “Damned murdering fool. She should have known better. If Mary’d told me, or you, we could have sent her away to have the baby safely and secretly. To America or somewhere. The baby could have been adopted and—”

  “And her Glessing man?” she had asked. “Would he have still married her? Nine months away?”

  “That’s finished, either way!”

  “Who’s the father?” May-may had asked.

  “She would na tell me,” Struan had said, and May-may had smiled to herself.

  “Poor Mary,” he had added. “Now her life’s finished.”

  “Nonsense, Tai-Pan. The marriage can go forward—if the Glessing and the Horatio never know.”

  “Have you taken leave of your senses? Of course it’s ended—what you say’s impossible. Dishonest, terribly dishonest.”

  “Aye. But what is never known does na matter, and the reason for hiding is good and na evil, never mind.”

  “How will he never know, by God? Eh? Of course he’ll find out. He’ll certainly know she’s na a virgin.”

  There are ways, Tai-Pan, May-may thought. Ways of deceiving. You men are so simple in some things. Women are so much cleverer in most things that are important.

  And she resolved to send someone to Ma-ree who could explain that which was necessary and thus stop all this suicide nonsense. Who? Obviously Elder Sister, Chen Sheng’s third wife, who once was in a house and would know such secrets. I’ll send her tomorrow. She’ll know what to tell Ma-ree. So Ma-ree is not a trouble any more. With joss. But Culum and Gorth and Tess? Not a trouble soon, for an assassination will take place. My fever trouble? That will be solved according to my joss. All things are solved according to joss, so why is there need to worry? Better to accept. I pity you, Tai-Pan. You think so much and plan so much and try to bend joss eternally to your whims—but that’s not so, is it? she asked herself. Surely he does only what you do, what all Chinese do. He laughs at fate and joss and gods and tries to use men and women to advance his aims. And twist joss. Yes, surely that is right. In many ways, Tai-Pan, you are more Chinese than I.