“Before God I swear that’s the truth!”
He turned, and his control snapped. All sound seemed to cease, and the whole world was Brock and the frantic urge to kill. He began to come back down the aisle, slowly. “Gorth murdered a whore in Macao and another here,” he hissed. “That’s more truth. His blood is na on my hands, but yours will be.”
Brock backed out of the doorway, his gaze never wavering from Struan’s. The wind had dropped and he knew it to be strange, untoward strange. But he paid it no heed.
“Then—then thee . . . had cause,” Brock said. “I—takes back wot I sayed. Thee had cause, by God.” Now he was outside on the ground and he stopped, at bay. “I takes it all back about Gorth. But that baint the settling twixt thee an’ me.” His rage at Gorth and at Struan and at all the years scorched him, and he knew only that now he must fight and hack and kill. To stay alive.
Then he felt the new wind on his cheek.
Abruptly his head cleared. He stared at the mainland.
Struan was momentarily put off balance by the suddenness of Brock’s movement, and he hesitated.
“Wind be changed,” Brock croaked.
“Eh?” Struan made an effort to concentrate and backed away, not trusting Brock.
Now they were both staring over mainland China, listening intently, tasting the wind.
It was coming from the north.
Gently but unmistakably.
“It be squall, mayhaps,” Brock said, his voice wounding him, his heart thundering; all strength was gone from him.
“Na from the north!” Struan said, feeling equally depleted. Oh God, for a moment I was an animal. But for the wind changing—
“Typhoon!”
They looked at the harbor. The junks and sampans were scurrying for shore.
“Aye,” Struan said. “But that was the truth. About Gorth.”
Brock tasted the bile in his mouth and he spat it out. “I be apologizing for Gorth. Yus. That were provoked and he be dead an’ more’s the pity.” Where be I goin’ wrong? he asked himself. Where? “Wot be done, be done. I sayed my piece to thee at Settlement. Yus, I were wrong to call thee out today, but I sayed my piece in Canton and I baint changing. I baint changing any more than thee. But the day thee come again’ me with cat in thy hand be the day there baint a stopping twixt us’n. Thee choose that day, as I sayed afore. Agreed?”
Struan felt curiously faint. “Agreed.” He backed off and unfastened his fighting iron and sheathed his knife, watching Brock, distrusting him.
Brock also put away his weapons.
“And you’ll forgive Culum and Tess?”
“They’s dead afore my face, like I sayed. Till Culum be part of Brock and Sons and Brock and Sons be Noble House and I be Tai-Pan o’ Noble House.”
Struan dropped his metal whip on the ground and Brock dropped his.
Both men swiftly left the hill by different paths.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
All that day the north wind increased. By nightfall Queen’s Town was as prepared as it would ever be. Windows were shuttered and doors jammed and those who had had the foresight to dig cellars blessed their joss. Those with makeshift or temporary habitations sought stronger buildings. But few buildings were strong—except in Happy Valley. And few men were prepared to risk the night gases even though they had read today’s
Oriental Times about a cure for malaria. Today there was no cinchona to be had.
All ships were battened down and every available anchor was bedded deeply. The ships were eased as far apart as possible to give maximum swinging room when the wind would back or veer.
But there were some who said that because this wind was constant from the north, it could not possibly herald a typhoon. Never had anyone known the typhoon to blow from the north alone. A typhoon wind veered or backed constantly.
Even Struan was inclined to agree. Never had the barometer stayed so high. And never had there been a typhoon without the barometer’s dropping.
Drizzle came at nightfall from a lowering ceiling and brought relief from the heat.
Struan had weighed the dangers carefully. If he had had only himself to worry about, he would have put to sea in
China Cloud and run south until the wind backed or veered. Then he would have taken the safest course and escaped. But some instinct he did not understand told him not to risk the sea. Instead, he moved May-may and Yin-hsi and Ah Sam and Lim Din to the vast abandoned factory in Happy Valley and put them in his quarters on the third floor. He felt that the rain and the wind would blow away the night gases. May-may would be safer protected by brick and stone than on the sea or in a hole in the ground, and that was all that counted.
Culum had thanked Struan for the offer of a berth in the factory but had said that he preferred to bring Tess into the harbor master’s office. It was a low, granite building, and Glessing had set aside space for Culum and Tess in the quarters that were part of the building.
Struan had told them what had happened on the knoll and that a peace of sorts had been made. And all day while he was preparing against a typhoon that might never come, he brooded over the violence of man.
“What’s the matter, Husband?” May-may had asked.
“I dinna ken. Brock, mysel’, typhoon—I dinna ken. Maybe the cloud ceiling’s too low.”
“I’ll tell you wat’s wrong. You think too much about wat happened—and worse, you worry about wat could possible have happened. Huh! Foolishness! Be Chinese! I order you! Past is past. A peace is made with Brock! Dinna waste time moping like constipate hen. Eat some foods and drink some tea and make love to Yin-hsi.”
She laughed and called Yin-hsi, who hurried across the huge bedroom and sat on the bed and held her hand. “Look at her, by God! I’ve already give her a good talking-to.”
He grinned and felt easier.
“That’s better,” she said. “I think of you all time, never mind. Yin-hsi is in the room next door alone. She waits dutifully all night.”
“Get on with you, lassie.” He chuckled, and May-may spoke rapidly in Chinese to Yin-hsi. Yin-hsi was all attention and then she clapped her hands elatedly and beamed at Struan, then hurried out.
“What did you say, May-may?” he asked suspiciously.
“I tell her how you make love. And how to make you fantastical excited. And na to be afraid when you cry out at the ending.”
“Devil take you! Have I nae privacy at all?”
“Tai-tai knows wat’s best for her losing-temper little boy. Yin-hsi’s waiting for you now.”
“What?”
“Yin-hsi. I told her to get ready. Love in the evening is pleasant, never mind. Have you forgotten?”
Struan grunted and walked for the door. “Thank you kindly, but I’m busy.” He went downstairs and suddenly found that he was feeling much better. Aye, it was nonsense to worry about the past. And again he blessed his joss for May-may.
Brock had had the broken foremast of the
White Witch unstepped and lashed alongside for safety. All the broken spars and twisted rigging had been sorted out and the ship battened down. He had put three anchors forward and a canvas storm anchor aft to keep her head to wind.