Struan turned west to the series of large tents that housed their temporary headquarters. They had been set up on the outskirts of the valley. The church was not yet under construction, though Struan coud see men surveying the top of the knoll.
“Morning, Robb,” he said, going into the tent.
“Welcome back.” Robb was unshaven and there were dark smudges under his eyes. “You dealt with Aberdeen?”
“Aye. How are things here?”
“Good and bad. Can’t walk along Queen’s Road without a stinking swarm of beggars falling on you. And worse than that, we’re bringing in ten thousand Macao bricks a day by sampan and junk, and upwards of two thousand vanish by next morning.” He tossed up his hands violently. “And not only bricks—timber, desks, cement, quills, paper —they steal everything. At this rate our building costs will double.” He tossed over a list of figures. “A present for you: the figures on your house—so far. Three times as much as Vargas estimated.”
“Why so much?”
“Well, you wanted it up in three weeks.”
“For a thousand pounds I can damn nearly buy a fifth of a clipper.”
“If the
Blue Cloud does na reach London, we’re in terrible trouble. Again.”
“She’ll get there.”
“I wish I was so confident,” Robb slammed back.
Struan sat down at his desk. “What’s the real matter, lad?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The thieving and the begging—and there’s too much to do. And this constant, confounded noise. I’m tired, I suppose. No, that’s not true. Two things. First, Sarah. She’s two weeks overdue and you’ve no idea how irritable a woman is then, and the poor lass is frightened she’s going to die. Rightly. Nothing you can do to help, except say everything’ll be all right. Then too, there’s the business of me staying on. We’ve had nothing but terrible rows. She’s absolutely set on leaving within a month or so—as soon as she’s fit again.”
“Would you like me to talk to her?”
“No. Nothing’ll help. She’s made up her mind, and that—with Sarah—is that. Of course she’s delighted that we’re rich again but she’s still going home. The ball hasn’t helped—she’s furious that she’s with child and ‘fat and ugly,’ as she calls herself. Nothing you say makes any difference.”
“That’s ‘first.’ What’s second?”
“Culum. You and Culum.”
Struan glanced out the tent door at the harbor and at the many ships neatly at anchor. “He seems well enough.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Let that rest for the time being.”
“It’s a very bad situation. Bad for the two of you and bad for the house.”
“Let it rest, Robb.”
“I’m asking you. Please forgive him. Please.”
“Give it time, Robb.” Struan turned back. “A little time.”
“All right, Dirk.” Robb shoved his hands in his pockets. “What happened last night at Aberdeen?”
Struan told him, and gave him the indenture and guardianship papers. But he said nothing about Wu Kwok and Quemoy and Midsummer Night. Midsummer Night would come while he was still Tai-Pan, and what to do about it was the Tai-Pan’s decision—and his alone.
Robb was concerned. “Where are the boys now?”
“Aboard
Resting Cloud. I put them in Wolfgang’s charge. The men’re aboard
China Cloud.”
“We’d better get the boys home as soon as possible. If it becomes common knowledge we’re connected with those pirate scum—well, God knows what trouble we’ll have on our hands.”
“Thunder Cloud’s almost full of cargo. She’ll be ready to sail in four or five days. They’ll go by her.”
“I’ll send them to Whampoa today.”
“Nay, lad. I’ll take ’em mysel’ tomorrow. Safer. Too much is at stake in Canton, so I’d better go straight back. Do you want to come?”
“I can’t, Dirk. Not with Sarah so near her time. Why not take Culum?”
“There’s plenty to do here.”
“There’s plenty to teach him about teas and silks and shipping. Four months only to go.”
“All right.”
“What’s your plan for the men?”
“Wolfgang and Gordon to teach them English first. In three months we’ll put them in the clippers. Never more than one to a ship. Put that canny mind of yours onto how we’re to bend them to our side.”
“I’ll try. I wonder what devilment Wu Kwok and Scragger are up to. I dinna trust them a little bitty.”
“Aye.” Struan thought, I wonder what you’d do, Robb, about Midsummer Night—if you knew. You’d send frigates, I’m sure. And perhaps be sending them into a trap. Will I? I dinna ken yet.
Robb looked out the tent door at the building activity. “If God’s on our side this season, we’ll be far ahead of Brock.”
“Aye.” But what to do about him? And Gorth?
“I think we should reclaim part of the land from the sea and extend the wharves into deep water,” Robb said. “Might as well do it now as next year.”
“Good idea, lad.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Cudahy said hurrying up, “but you sayed t’ report immediately.”
“Come in, Mr. Cudahy,” Robb said. “How did it go?”
“Like a bloody breeze, sir. The mail packet were there like you sayed. I got a list of passengers like you wanted. We intercepted her off Pokliu Chau. She’ll be in harbor in three hours.” Cudahy smiled and put down a small mail sack. “Er, beggin’ yor pardon, sir, but how’d you know the mail packet was acomin’? She be a day early.”
“Just a hunch, Mr. Cudahy,” Robb said. “Wait outside, will you please?” And he began to glance at their mail. Cudahy touched his forelock and left.
“Brilliant idea of ypurs,” Robb said, “to put a lookout on the mountain.”
“Culum remembered, did he?” Struan was pleased and docketed the information, and was further pleased that Robb and Culum had put the plan into effect secretly. “How’d you signal?”
“We assigned one of the clerks, old Vargas’ nephew, Jesus de Vargas, to look at the mountaintop every quarter of an hour. Telescope of course, secretly of course. Culum worked out a system of flag codes. Now we can tell if a ship’s a mail packet, one of ours, or one of Brock’s or Cooper-Tillman’s.”
They went through the mail. The three months of newspapers and periodicals they set aside to be enjoyed at leisure. Books, music sheets, plays, fashion books for Sarah, shipping improvements for Struan, financial papers for Robb.
First, business.
The London market price of spices—ginger, nutmeg, pepper, cinnamon—had risen appreciably. On molasses it had declined. The buying price on tea, due to short supply, was up fifty percent—which meant, if
Blue Cloud was first, that their profit would be over two hundred and forty thousand pounds. Serious Chartist riots had hurt the capacity of the Lancashire cotton mills and Welsh coal mines, which meant that the cost of coal oil for lamps would go up and the price for cotton cloth would be higher than expected. The Calcutta price on opium had come down because there was a bumper crop. So Struan changed the orders of