Struan pretended to think, but inside he was reeling. Before the meeting with Scragger he had never heard of Wu Kwok—of Wu Fang Choi, the father, of course, but not the son. Mauss had not been told what had transpired on the junk or what Scragger had said. Only Robb and Culum knew. Impossible for Mary to have heard about Wu Kwok from them. So it must have come from Wu Kwok—or from Jin-qua. But how? “That’s an ordinary enough name,” he said. “Why?”
“He’s Wu Fang Choi’s eldest son.”
“The pirate warlord? The White Lotus?” Struan feigned astonishment.
“I adore shocking you,” she said gaily. “Well, the emperor has secretly offered mandarinates to Wu Kwok and Wu Fang Choi through the Hoppo at Canton. And the governor-generalships of Fukien Province—and Formosa—in return for an attack on the shipping in Hong Kong harbor. Their entire fleet.”
“When’s the attack?” His shock was authentic.
“They haven’t accepted yet. As the Chinese say, ‘negotiations are proceeding.’”
Could the favors Wu Kwok requested be a blind? Struan asked himself. A devilish play within a play to put him at ease and trap him? Why then the coin? Would they risk their entire fleet? Three thousand junks manned by those pirate scum could finish us—perhaps!
“Would you know if they accept—if there’s to be an attack?”
“I’m not sure—but I think so. But that’s not all, Tai-Pan. You should know that the reward on your head is doubled. There’s a reward on Culum now, too. Ten thousand dollars. On all the English. George Glessing, Longstaff, Brock.” Her voice flattened. “And on May-may, Duncan and Kate. If kidnaped alive.”
“What?”
“I heard three days ago. You weren’t here, so I caught the first boat I could for Macao, but you’d just left. So I went to see May-may. I told her I’d been sent by you, that you’d heard she and the children were in danger. Then I went to your compradore and told him, in your name, to take May-may and the children into his house; that if anything happened to them before you got back you’d hang him and his children and his children’s children.”
“What did Chen Sheng say?”
“He said to tell you that you need have no fear. I saw May-may and the children into his house, then came back to Hong Kong. I think they’re safe for the time being.”
“Does he know about the bullion?”
“Of course. Part of it, a small part of it, is his. What better investment could he make?”
“Who else put up the bullion?”
“I know about Chen Sheng, Jin-qua, the Co-hong merchants—they all have a share. That made about fifteen lacs. The rest I’m not sure. Probably the Manchu mandarins.”
“Ti-sen?”
“No. He’s in complete disgrace. All his wealth is forfeit. The Co-hong estimate that to be about two thousand lacs. Gold.”
“Chen Sheng said he’d look after them?”
“Yes. Now that you’re rich again, he’ll guard them with his mother’s life. For the time, anyway.”
“Wait here, Mary.” Struan turned for the beach. He picked out Wolfgang and shouted to him, beckoning, and hurried toward him.
“Wolfgang, get Orlov and take China Cloud to Macao. Get May-may and the children and bring them and the amah back. Full sail. Leave Cudahy in charge of the tent.”
“Bring them here?”
“Aye. Be back by tomorrow. They’re at Chen Sheng’s.”
“Bring them here? Openly?”
“Aye, by God! Leave immediately.”
“I won’t do it, Tai-Pan. Not openly. You’d destroy yourself. You know you’d be ostracized.”
“The mandarins have put a ransom on their heads. Hurry!”
“Gott im Himmel!” Mauss tugged at his beard nervously. “I’ll bring them aboard secretly and swear Orlov to secrecy. Gott im Himmel, forgive this poor sinner.”
Struan walked back to Mary. “Who told you about the kidnaping, Mary?”
“No one you know.”
“You put yoursel’ in great danger, lassie. Getting information, then acting on it yoursel’.”
“I’m very careful.”
“Leave Macao once and for all. Take yoursel’ out of that life while you have your life. Your joss will na last forever.”
“Let’s talk about you, Tai-Pan. You can’t flaunt your Chinese mistress here.”
“She and the children’ll be safe aboard, and that’s all that counts.”
“Not in our society, by God, and you know it. They’ll break you, Tai-Pan—even you—if you go against their godrotting code. They have to. She’s Chinese.”
“The pox on them!”
“Yes. But it’ll be a lonely curse, and you’ve your house to think of. So long as May-may’s kept private, she’s no threat to them—what’s not seen does not exist. It’s not my place to advise you—you know that better than anyone—but I beg you, keep her private.”
“I do, and I will—unless they’re in danger. I owe you a favor, Mary.”
“Yes.” Her eyes lit with a curious flame. “I would like a favor.”
“Name it.”
“Anything I ask?”
“Name it.”
“Not now. When I want my favor, I’ll ask it. Yes. One day I’ll want a favor.” Then she added lightly, “You should be more cautious, Tai-Pan. I’m a woman, and a woman’s mind works very differently from a man’s.”
“Aye,” he said, and grinned.
“You’ve such a nice smile, Tai-Pan.”
“Thank you, kind lady,” he said. He bowed elegantly. “That’s praise indeed!” He put his arm in hers and they began to walk back to the beach. “Who told you about May-may and the children?”
“We agreed, two years ago, that the sources of my information were sacrosanct.”
“Will you na use those long words?”
“I’m glad I met May-may at long last. She’s so beautiful. And the children.” She was feeling warmed by his touch.
“Is there a chance the information was incorrect?”
“No. Kidnaping for ransom is an ancient Chinese art.”
“It’s filthy. To touch women and children.” Struan was silent a moment. “How long are you staying here?”
“A few days. Horatio—Horatio gets a little lost when he’s alone. By the way, Chen Sheng knows I speak Cantonese, of course. Now May-may knows. I asked her to keep it secret. She will, won’t she?”
“Aye. Nae fear of that. But I’ll remind her.” He forced his mind off May-may and the children and Wu Kwok and the fire ships and the remaining three half coins. “One secret deserves another. The Noble House is giving a ball in thirty days. Of course you’re invited.”
“What a marvelous idea!”
“We’re giving a prize. A thousand guineas for the best-dressed lady.”
“Good God, Tai-Pan, you’ll have your eyes scratched out!”
“Aristotle’s going to be the judge.”
“You’ll still have your eyes scratched out.” Her eyes seemed to change color. “You’d best remember. Now you’re the most eligible man in Asia.”
“What?”
Her laugh was half mocking. “Best choose a wife while you’ve the time. There’ll be many a doxy shaking her drawers at you and many a mother primping her daughters into your bed.”
“Will you na say such things!”
“Don’t say you weren’t warned, my lad. A thousand guineas? I think I’d like to win that prize.” Abruptly her mood changed. “I’ve the money to buy such a dress, as you well know—but if I did, it would, well, it would spoil the Mary Sinclair people know. Everyone knows we’re as poor as coolies.”
“But nothing says I canna give you a dress. At least, there’s nothing that says I canna make the offer through Horatio. Is there?”
“God’s blood, Tai-Pan, would you really? I’ll give you back the money.”
“If you’ll stop God’s-blooding, aye. But a gift is a gift.” He studied her thoughtfully. “Have you ever thoug
ht of your Great-aunt Wilhelmina?”
“Who?”
“Your mother’s second cousin once removed. In Holland.”
“Who?”
“The heiress—the one who could leave you a lot of money.”
“I’ve no relations in Holland.”
“Perhaps your mother forgot to tell you. Perhaps a solicitor in Amsterdam could write that you’ve come into an inheritance.” He lit a cheroot. “As an heiress you could spend money openly. Could you na?”
“But—but …” Her voice became brittle. “What about Horatio?”
“Aunt Wilhelmina could leave him two thousand guineas. The bulk to you. She only really liked female offspring. Your mother was her favorite—strange no one told you or Horatio about her. Poor Aunt Wilhelmina. She died yesterday.”
Mary’s eyes were huge with excitement. “Could you, Tai-Pan? Would you?”
“It will take three months for a letter to get to London. A month to make the arrangements in Holland. Three months back. In seven months you’re an heiress. But you’d better act the part of a church mouse for that time. And be surprised when it happens.”
“Yes. Sorry, I’m … I’m overwhelmed by … Don’t worry. Don’t worry. If I go a little mad and break into tears or scream—I worship you, Tai-Pan.”
His smile faded. “Will you na say such a thing!”
“I’ve never said it before, and perhaps I’ll never say it again. But to me you’re God.” She turned and walked inland alone.
Struan watched her for a moment, then headed for Gordon Chen. He looks more Chinese every day, Struan thought. Out to sea, the longboat with Orlov and Mauss aboard was still well away from China Cloud. Hurry it up, by God!
Skinner intercepted him anxiously. “Afternoon, Mr. Struan.”
“Oh, hello, Mr. Skinner.”
“Great day in the Orient, isn’t it?”
“Aye. If you’ll excuse me, I have to—”
“Won’t keep you a moment, Mr. Struan. I tried to see you last night.” Skinner dropped his voice. He was sweating more than usual and smelling foul as always. “The notes of The Noble House’re due today, I seem to recall.”
“Do you, now?”
“Are they going to be met?”
“Had you ever any doubt, Mr. Skinner?”
“There are rumors. About bullion.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“I hope they’re true. I wouldn’t like a change in the ownership of the Oriental Times.”
“Nor would I. This evening I’ll give you an item of interest. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
Skinner watched Struan approach Gordon Chen and wished he could be privy to that conversation. Then he noticed Brock and his family chatting with Nagrek Thumb. This is a great day, he thought gleefully, as he lumbered toward them. Who’ll get the knoll?
“I was so sorry to hear about your loss, sir,” Gordon Chen was saying. “I tried to see you but failed in my duty. I offered a prayer.”
“Thank you.”
“My mother asked me to tell you she would observe the usual hundred days of mourning.”
“Please tell her that’s na necessary,” Struan said, knowing that she would do so anyway. “Now, what’s been going on with you since I last saw you?”
“Nothing very much. I tried to help Chen Sheng find the house some credit, sir. But I’m afraid we were not successful.” The wind tugged at his queue, shaking it.
“Credit is very hard to come by,” Struan said.
“Yes, it is indeed. I’m sorry.” Gordon Chen thought about the vast quantity of bullion in China Cloud’s hold and was filled with admiration for his father. He had heard the rumors this morning, and they had confirmed others that had filtered into Tai Ping Shan: that the Tai-Pan had smuggled the bullion out of Canton from under the noses of the hated Manchus. But he said nothing about the rebirth of The Noble House, for that would be impolite.
“Perhaps it’s time that you had a little credit. I might be able to arrange it. Say, one lac of silver.”
Gordon Chen’s eyes flickered, and he gasped, “That is a huge amount of credit, sir.”
“You take one-fourth of the profit, I take three.”
“That would be very fair, sir,” Gordon Chen said, collecting his shattered wits quickly. “Generous. In such hard times as these, most fair. But if I were to have two-thirds and you one-third, that would assist me to increase your profit considerably. Very considerably.”
“I expect the profit to be considerable.” Struan threw his cheroot away. “We’ll be partners. You take one half, I one half. This is a private arrangement between us. To be secret. You will keep books and account monthly. Agreed?”
“Agreed. You are more than a little generous, sir. Thank you.”
“See me this evening and I’ll give you the necessary paper. I’ll be aboard Resting Cloud.”
Gorden Chen was so happy that he wanted to jump and shout with joy. He could not fathom why his father was so generous. But he knew that the one lac was very safe and that it would increase a thousandfold. With joss, he added quickly. Then he remembered the Hung Mun Tong and wondered if loyalty to the tong would conflict with loyalty to his father. And if it did, which would dominate. “I can’t thank you enough, sir. Can this agreement begin at once?”
“Aye. I suppose you’ll want to bid on some land.”
“I had thought—” Gordon Chen stopped.
Culum was approaching them, his face set.
“Hello, Culum,” Struan said.
“Hello, Father.”
“This is Gordon Chen. My son, Culum,” Struan said, conscious of the stares and the silence of the crowd on the beach.
Gordon Chen bowed. “I’m honored to meet you, sir.”
“Gordon’s your half brother, Culum,” Struan said.
“I know.” Culum stuck out his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
Still dumfounded from hearing Struan acknowledge him as son, Gordon weakly shook his hand. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“How old are you, Gordon?” Culum asked.
“Twenty, sir.”
“Half brothers should call each other by their Christian names, shouldn’t they?”
“If it pleases you.”
“We must get to know each other.” Culum turned to Struan, who was rocked by his son’s acknowledgment of Gordon. “Sorry to disturb you, Father. I just wanted to meet Gordon,” he said, and left.
Struan felt the silence break as the still-life beach came alive again. And he was astonished to see tears streaming down Gordon’s face.
“I’m sorry—I’m—I’ve waited all my life, Mr. Struan. Thank you. Thank you,” Gordon said brokenly.
“Most people call me ‘Tai-Pan,’ lad. We’ll forget the ‘Mr. Struan.’”
“Yes, Tai-Pan.” Gordon Chen bowed and walked away.
As Struan started to go after Culum, he saw Longstaff’s cutter beach. The admiral and a group of naval officers were with him. Horatio as well.
Good, Struan thought. Now Brock.
He waved to Robb and motioned at Brock. Robb nodded and left Sarah and overtook Culum. Together they joined Struan.
“Do you have the papers, Robb?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, then. Let’s get our notes back.” Struan glanced at Culum. “Nothing to be nervous about, lad.”
“Yes.”
They walked a way and Struan said, “I’m glad you met Gordon, Culum. Thank you.”
“I—I wanted to meet him today. With you. Well—publicly.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t that giving you the face you say is so important?”
“Who told you about Gordon?”
“I heard rumors when I came back from Canton. People are ever ready to spread bad news.” He remembered the sardonic amusement of most of the traders and their wives whom he had met. “So sorry, lad, you came at such a bad time. Pity the house is dead. Won’t be the same without The Noble House,”
they would say in various ways. But Culum knew they were all gloating, glad to see the house humbled. Aunt Sarah had been the one to really open his eyes to his naïveté. They had been walking along Queen’s Road and had passed some Eurasians, the first he had seen, a boy and girl, and he had asked her what nationality they were, and where they came from.
“Here,” she had said. “They’re half-castes, half-English half-heathen. Many of the traders have bastards from heathen mistresses. It’s all very secret, of course, but everyone knows. Your Uncle Robb has one.”
“What?”
“I sent her and her whelp packing years ago. It wouldn’t have been so bad, I suppose, if the woman had been Christian and pretty. I could have understood that. But her—no.”
“Has—has Father—other children?”
“Children I don’t know, Culum. He has a son who works for his compradore, called Gordon Chen. Your father has a curious sense of humor, giving him a clan Christian name. I hear he’s been baptized a Christian. I suppose that’s something. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you, Culum. But someone has to, and perhaps it’s better for you to learn the truth from your kin and not overhear it snickered behind your back. Oh, yes. You’ve at least one half brother in Asia.”
That night he had been unable to sleep. The next day he had gone ashore despairingly. Some naval officers, Glessing among them, were playing cricket, and he had been asked to make up the team. When it was his turn to bat, he took all of his anger out on the ball, smashing it, wanting to kill it, and with it, his shame. He had played brilliantly but had got no pleasure from the game. Later Glessing had drawn him aside and asked him what was the matter. He had blurted it out.
“I don’t approve of your father—as you no doubt know,” Glessing had said. “But that has nothing to do with his private life. Have the same problem as you, myself. At least, I know my father’s got a mistress in Maida Vale. Two sons and a daughter. He’s never mentioned it to me, though I expect he knows I know. Damned difficult, but what’s a man to do? Probably when I’m that old I’ll do the same. Have to wait and see. Course, I agree it’s damned uncomfortable knowing you’ve a half-caste brother.”
“Do you know him?”
“I’ve seen him. Never talked to him, though I hear he’s a good chap. Take some advice—don’t let what your father does in his private life get under your skin. He’s the only father you’ll have.”