"In this wind," he said, thinking aloud, "Prancing Cloud could make fifteen to seventeen knots, day in day out, and be tied up in Hong Kong in five days--she'll have the bit between her teeth with such important news and important cargo." They had all agreed that publicly and now privately they would consider that coffin the tai-pan's. "The mail ship will average eight knots if she's lucky so she'll take the usual ten odd days. By the time I got there the funeral will have been done, Tess will know everything from dozens of different points of view--my report's aboard, so is Sir William's and fifty others no doubt. She's dismissed me at the end of month and the new fellow arrives in a few days and I was told to show him the ropes." Then there were reasons he decided not to say aloud: he should be canvassing other hongs-- as the major companies were sometimes called--for a job. The only real, suitable job available and up to his experience and surely on offer would be Brock and Sons. Then he had to decide about Maureen, and then there was Nemi. He smiled at Angelique sadly. "It adds up to, no reason to go, doesn't it?"
She hugged his arm, oblivious of those passing.
"I'm glad. I won't feel lonely if you're here."
"Jamie!" Phillip Tyrer had called out from the British Legation doorway, hastily putting on his top coat and hat, hurrying towards them. "'evening Angelique, Jamie," he said in an uneasy rush, "Sir William's compliments would you two and the, the rest of the, the passengers and crew of the cutter kindly see him tomorrow morning before church, before you both board the mail ship? She sails at two o'clock now."
"For what purpose, Phillip?" Jamie said.
"I, I think he'd like to... dammit, oh excuse me, Angelique, obviously he'd like to ask what on earth you were doing."
"Doing?"
The young man sighed. "Sorry, old boy, it's not my idea. You're on the mat, I've delivered the message, that's all.
Don't pick on me, I'm just the nearest dogsbody."
They both laughed, tension leaving them. "Ten o'clock?"
"Thanks, Jamie, that should be plenty of time."
Tyrer looked down the way at the cutter.
"Looks as though you had a rough crossing, what on earth happened to the prow?"
Jamie glanced back. The damage was clearly visible under the lamp at the head of the jetty, and, he knew, easily observable with binoculars for miles from the Legation windows.
"Flotsam," he said readily. "A crate, what looked like a crate was washed aboard, then carried away again. No great problem."
Sunday, 14th December
Sunday, 14th December: "I don't agree, Jamie. We have a distinct problem." Sir William sat behind his desk, facing them. Phillip nearby, the mood in the drab office inquisitorial. "Let's start again. You seem to be spokesman so I'll address myself to you. I specifically said no funeral here, the body was to go back to Hong Kong an--"
"It's already gone, Sir William, on Prancing Cloud," Jamie repeated, his jaw set. They had been arguing for half an hour, he and Sir William, the others answering guardedly, all of them instructed by him and by Skye, only to respond when questioned directly and even then not to volunteer anything, just to answer the question as simply as possible: Hoag, Skye, Tinker, the stoker, and Angelique. Hoag was definitely the weakest link in the chain and twice had almost blurted out the reason. Angelique was heavily veiled, wearing black and dressed for church. "We had a make-believe funeral."
"I know that and as I have asked repeatedly, repeatedly, if it was merely symbolic why use a real coffin with a real corpse, albeit with a native therein, and shove him over the side with a form of a Christian's burial at sea?"
Jamie shrugged, stumped by that inevitable question.
This morning Skye had said weakly, "We'd best shrug it off, brazen it out, keep our heads down, nothing much he can do but spit blood."
"The coffin was there, I thought it a good idea."
"Ah, this was all your idea then?"
"Yes," Jamie said stubbornly, glaring at Hoag who started to open his mouth. "I suggested it and, and the others were good enough to go along with it. It was the tai-pan's wish--it was Malcolm's wish and Mrs. Struan's. No harm was done."
"I most assuredly disagree. The whole idea's macabre, you deliberately went against my considered opinion, there seems to be an astonishing breakdown of reasonable thinking and a desire of all assembled here to avoid telling me the truth, the simple explanation, and have colluded to hide... to hide what? Don't you agree, Phillip?"
Tyrer jerked in his chair. "Er, yes sir if you say so."
"Why the use of a real coffin and real body?"
Hoag shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They all knew that any moment he would break.
Angelique decided that now was the time and she began to cry. "Why don't you just leave us alone, we did no harm, just did what we thought best, what my husband wanted, what I wanted for him ..."
"Angelique, please don't cr--"
"... that he wanted and you forbade. It's your fault, Sir William, I thought you were our friend, if you were our friend and you'd been... been reasonable we wouldn't have had all this trouble, of course it wasn't nice to do anything underhand even though I think you were quite wrong and..."
"Mrs. Struan, I on--"
"... of course that wasn't nice, none of us wanted to do that, but at least we did it in good faith, before God, at least these friends, real friends helped to do properly what my husband and I... it wasn't much to ask..."
For a moment she was going to flee the room but wisely did not, realizing that that would solve nothing and leave the others at his mercy so she stayed where she was, dissolving into ever more heartbreaking sobs, knowing she had not lied and had said nothing more than the truth: it was his fault!
In seconds they were all around her, trying to calm her, all feeling terrible, except Skye who was awed by the brilliance of her timing, and Sir William who was privately amused though, for face, pretending to be equally upset.
He watched and waited, still disgusted with all of them for whatever machinations they had jointly conceived. What had possessed them and who was the real culprit? Surely not Jamie? Bloody stupid to do what they did. Ridiculous.
Stupid to risk their lives like that.
People are no damned good. Even Angelique.
Ah, but what a lady, and what a treasure and what an actress--where in the name of God does she get it all from? Like most girls of her age, her education is minimal, in her case convent which is a bloody sight worse. Is Heavenly coaching her for the trial of the century? Or am I just a cynical old fool? Either way, I will really be sad to lose her.
His mantelpiece clock chimed quarter to the hour. Time for church, he thought, time to stop--he was reading the lesson and had not yet had time to skim through it.
"There there, Mrs. Struan," he said as a good though stern father would. "No need for tears, we've all had enough of them recently. I must confess I still totally disapprove of the escapade, very poor show, but under the emotional circumstances I think we'll let it rest there, for the moment." Again he pretended not to hear their audible relief, or to notice the subsidence of her sobs. "Now, it's time for church, and then the mail ship and our wishes for a bon voyage and a long life will go with you. Truly we will be very sorry and very sad to see you leave our shores."
"I, I'm not leaving yet, Sir William."
"Eh?" Sir William and Tyrer were flabbergasted.
Between sobs, her head bowed, she said, "Dr.Hoag has advised me not to travel for at least a week."
Hoag said quickly, "That's right, medically not a good idea, Sir William, not a good idea at all, no not at all." This morning Skye, supported by Jamie, had insisted that it was best she did not go for a time. "A medical certificate is what she needs, Doctor, one you can attest to with Tess Struan. With all this emotion, surely she shouldn't travel or have any confrontations until she's stronger?"' Hoag had readily agreed, and said to Sir William, "As you can see she's easily upset, and I've given her a certificate, not that it's necessary."