“It canna be malaria,” he said. “Na malaria. Something else.”
“The island’s accursed.”
“Now you’re talking like a woman,” Struan said.
“The fever wasn’t there before the coolies. Get rid of the coolies and you’ll be rid of the plague. They’re carrying it with them.
They’re doing it.”
“How do we know that, Culum? I’ll admit it started in the coolie lines. And I’ll agree they live in the low-lying parts. And I’ll agree that as far as we know you can only get malaria by breathing the poisoned night air. But why is there fever only in the valley? Is it only Happy Valley that’s got bad air? Air’s air, for the love of Christ, and there’s a fine breeze blowing there most of the day and night. It does na make sense.”
“It makes very good sense. It’s the will of God.”
“The pox on that for an answer!”
Culum was on his feet. “I’ll thank you not to blaspheme.”
“And I’ll thank you to remember that not so many years ago men were burned at the stake just for saying the earth went round the sun! It’s na the will of God!”
“Whatever
you think, God has a vital and continuing say in our lives. The fact that the fever’s in the one place we choose in Asia to live in is, I think, the will of God. You can’t deny it because you can’t prove otherwise, any more than I can prove it’s true. But I believe it is—most do—and I believe we should abandon Happy Valley.”
“If we do that, we abandon Hong Kong.”
“We could build on the ground near Glessing’s Point.”
“Do you know how much money we and all the traders’ve invested in Happy Valley?”
“Do you know how much money you can enjoy when you’re six feet underground?”
Struan coldly appraised his son. For weeks now he had come to know that Culum’s hostility was increasingly real. But he did not mind that. He knew that the more Culum learned, the more he would seek to put his own ideas into effect and the more he would crave power. That’s fair, he thought, and was greatly satisfied with Culum’s development. At the same time he was worried for Culum’s safety. Culum was spending too much time in Gorth’s company, his mind dangerously open.
Ten days ago there had been a cruel, inconclusive row. Culum had been spouting some theories about steamships—obviously Gorth’s opinions—and Struan had disagreed. Then Culum had brought up the feud between Brock and Struan, and he had said that the younger generation would not make the mistakes of the older. That Gorth knew it wasn’t necessary for the younger generation to be trapped by the older. That Gorth and he had agreed to bury any enmity, and that both would try to bring peace between their fathers. And when Struan had begun to argue, Culum had refused to listen and had stormed off.
Then, too, there was the problem of Tess Brock.
Culum had never mentioned her to Struan. Nor had he to him. But he knew that Culum was desperate with longing for her and this fogged his thinking. Struan recalled his own youth and how he had yearned for Ronalda. Everything had seemed so clear and so important and so clean at that age.
“Ah, Culum lad, dinna fash yoursel’,” he said, not wishing to argue with Culum. “It’s a hot day and all tempers are short. Sit down and rest your head. Little Karen’s sick and many of our friends. I heard Tillman’s got the fever, who knows how many more?”
“Miss Tillman?”
“I dinna think so.”
“Gorth said that they’re closing their factory tomorrow. He’s going to summer in Macao. All the Brocks are.”
“We’ll be going to Hong Kong. The factory here stays open.”
“Gorth said it would be better to summer in Macao. He has a house there. We still have property there, haven’t we?”
Struan stirred in his chair. “Aye. Take a week or so, if you wish. Spend it in Macao, but I want you in Queen’s Town. And I’ll tell you again, watch your back. Gorth’s na your friend.”
“And I must tell you again, I think he is.”
“He’s trying to get you off balance, and one day he’ll cut you to pieces.”
“You’re wrong. I understand him. I like him. We get on very well. I find I can talk to him and I enjoy his company. We both know it’s difficult for you—and for his father— to understand, but, well, it’s hard to explain.”
“I understand Gorth too well, by God!”
“Let’s not discuss it,” Culum said.
“I think we should. You’re under Gorth’s spell. That’s deadly for a Struan.”
“You see Gorth through other eyes. He’s my friend.”
Struan opened a box and selected a Havana cheroot and decided that the time had come. “Do you think Brock’ll approve your marrying Tess?”
Culum flushed and he said impulsively, “I don’t see why not. Gorth’s in favor.”
“You’ve discussed it with Gorth?”
“I haven’t discussed it with you. Or with anyone. So why should I talk about it to Gorth?”
“Then how do you know he approves?”
“I don’t. It’s just that he’s always saying how well Miss Brock and I seemed to be getting on together, how she enjoyed my company, encouraging me to write to her, that sort of thing.”
“You think I’ve no right to ask your intentions toward Tess Brock?”
“You’ve the right, certainly. It’s just—well yes, I have thought about marrying her. But I’ve never said so to Gorth.” Culum stopped uncomfortably and mopped his brow. He had been shaken by the suddenness with which the Tai-Pan had touched on what was foremost in his own mind, and though he had wanted to talk about it he did not want his love defiled. Damn it, I should have been prepared, he thought, and he heard himself rush on, unable to stop. “But I don’t think my—my affection for Miss Brock is anyone’s concern at the moment. Nothing’s been said, and there’s nothing—well, what I feel for Miss Brock’s my own affair.”
“I realize that’s your opinion,” Struan said, “but that does na mean you’re correct. Have you considered that you might be being used?”
“By Miss Brock?”
“By Gorth. And by Brock.”
“Have you considered that your hatred of them tinges all your judgments?” Culum was furious.
“Aye. I’ve considered that. But you, Culum? Have you thought they might be using you?”
“Let’s say you’re correct. Let’s say I did marry Miss Brock. Isn’t that to your business advantage?”
Struan was glad that the problem was out in the open. “Nay. Because Gorth will eat you up when you’re Tai-Pan. He’ll take all we have and destroy you—to become The Noble House.”
“Why should he destroy his sister’s husband? Why shouldn’t we join our companies—Brock and Struan? I run the business, he runs the ships.”
“And who’s Tai-Pan?”
“We could share that—Gorth and I.”
“There can only be one Tai-Pan. That’s what it means. That’s the law.”
“But your law is not necessarily my law. Or Gorth’s. We can learn by others’ mistakes. Merging our companies would give us immense advantages.”
“That’s what Gorth has in mind?” Struan wondered if he had made a mistake about Culum. His son’s fascination for Tess and his trust in Gorth would be the key to destroy The Noble House and give Brock and Gorth all that they wanted. Only three months left and then I leave for England. Good sweet Christ! “Is it?” he asked.