“Fortheringill?” Gordon Chen asked. “Quite right, honored sir. Fortheringill. Well, this madam has the biggest house in Queen’s Town. Recently she bought six Hoklo girls and one Cantonese girl. One of the—”
“It was five Hoklo girls,” Gordon Chen said.
“Are you in that business too?” May-may asked politely.
“Oh yes,” he replied. “It’s becoming quite profitable.”
“Go on, Ah Sam, my pet.”
“Well, Mother, as I was saying, one of the Hoklo girls is a relation of Ah Tat—who, as you know, is related to my mother—and this girl was assigned to be his partner for the night. Once was enough!” Ah Sam dropped her voice even more. “He nearly killed her. He beat her belly and her buttocks till the blood flowed and then made her do peculiar things with his sex. Then—”
“What peculiar things?” Gordon Chen asked in an equal whisper, leaning closer.
“Yes,” May-may said, “what things?”
“It’s certainly not up to me to tell such weird and obscene practices, oh dear no, but she had to honor it with great facility with all parts of herself.”
“All?”
“All, Mother. What with the terrible beating and the way he bit her and kicked her and savaged her, the poor girl nearly died.”
“How extraordinary!” Then May-may told her sharply, “I still think you’re making it all up, Ah Sam. I thought you said that it was”—she snapped her fingers imperiously —
“pfft, like that for him.”
“Quite right. It is. And he always blames the girl hideously, though it’s never her fault. That’s the main trouble. That and being so small and limp.” Ah Sam raised her hands to heaven and began to wail, “May I never have children if I lied! May I die a withered spinster if I lied! May my ancestors be consumed by worms if I lied! May my ancestors’ ancestors never rest in peace and never be reborn if I lied! May my—”
“Oh all right, Ah Sam,” May-may said testily. “I believe you.”
Ah Sam huffily went back to sipping her tea. “How would I dare to lie to my superb mother and her honored relation? But I think the gods should surely punish such barbarian beast!”
“Yes,” Gordon Chen said.
And May-may smiled to herself.
BOOK V
That afternoon Struan went aboard China Cloud.
He sent Captain Orlov to one of the lorchas and Zergeyev to spacious quarters in Resting Cloud.
He ordered all sails set and the moorings let go and he fled the harbor into the deep.
For three days he drove China Cloud
like an arrow southeast, her yards screeching with the fullness of canvas.
He had gone to sea to cleanse himself. To cleanse away the dross and the words of Sarah and the loss of Robb and of Karen.
And to bless May-may and the joy of her.
He went to the bosom of the ocean as a lover who had been gone for an eternity, and the ocean welcomed him with squall and with storm, yet controlled, never endangering the ship or him who drove the ship. She sent her wealth sparingly, making him strong again, giving him life, giving him dignity, and blessing him as only the sea can bless a man, cleansing him as only the ocean can cleanse a man.
He drove himself as he drove the ship, not sleeping, testing the limit of strength. Watch after watch changed and still he walked the quarterdeck: sunrise to sunrise to sunrise, singing softly to himself and hardly eating. And never talking, except to force more speed, or to order a ripped shroud replaced or another sail set. He drove into the depths of the Pacific, into infinity.
On the fourth day he turned about and drove her for half the day northwest. Then he hove to and went below and shaved and bathed and slept for a day and a night, and the next dawn he ate a full meal. Then he went on deck.
“Morning, sorr,” Cudahy said.
“Set course for Hong Kong.”
“Yes, sorr.”
He stayed on the quarterdeck all day and part of the night and once more he slept. At dawn he shot the sun and marked the chart and again ordered the ship hove to.
Then he dived over the side and swam naked in the sea. The seamen crossed themselves superstitiously. There were sharks circling.
But the sharks kept their distance.
He climbed aboard and ordered the spotless ship cleaned and the decks holystoned—
sand and broom and water—
rigging replaced, sails tended, scuppers and cannon cleansed. All his own clothes and those of his men he cast overboard. He issued new gear to his men and took seaman’s clothes for himself.
A double tot of rum was issued to all hands.
At dawn on the seventh day Hong Kong loomed on the horizon, dead ahead. The Peak was shrouded with mist. There was cirrus aloft and a lusty swell below.
He stood on the bowsprit, the spray billowing beneath him.
“Do your worst, Island!” he shouted into the wake of the east wind. “I’m home!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
China Cloud came back into harbor through the western channel. The rising sun was strong, the wind east and steady—and humid.
Struan was on the quarterdeck, naked to the waist, his skin deeply tanned and his red-gold hair sun-bleached. He trained his binoculars on the ships of the harbor. First
Resting Cloud. Code flags fluttered on the mizzen: “Zenith”—owner to come aboard immediately. Only to be expected, he thought. He remembered the last time—an eternity ago—that he had read “Zenith” on
Thunder Cloud, the time that had heralded the news of so many deaths, and Culum’s arrival.
In the harbor there were more troopships than before. They were all flying the East India Company flags. Good. The first of the reinforcements. He saw a large three-masted brigantine near the flagship. The Russian flag flew aft and the tsarist pennant aloft the mainmast.
There were many more sampans and junks than usual scurrying over the waves.
After he had scanned the rest of the fleet meticulously, he turned to the shore, the sea tang mixing nicely with the smell of land. He could see activity near Glessing’s Point and many Europeans and clusters of beggars walking Queen’s Road. Tai Ping Shan seemed to have grown appreciably.
The Lion and the Dragon flew over the abandoned factory of The Noble House and the abandoned emptiness of Happy Valley.