Struan had kept this private from Glessing deliberately, always knowing that he had another ace to play should he need it to bring him to his side. “Aye. Of course, I dinna remember your father—I was a powder monkey and scared out of my wits. But the admiral was aboard and I was in
Royal Sovereign.”
“By Jove,” Glessing repeated. He had seen the 110-gun ship of the line off Spithead once as a boy. “A ship’s company of eight hundred and thirty-six and the future Tai-Pan of The Noble House. No wonder we won, by God!”
“Thank you,” Struan said. “But I had little to do with the battle.”
“By gad, Tai-Pan—if I may call you that—I think this is wonderful. I’m very glad. Yes, I am. My word! Used to hate your guts, as you know. Don’t any more. I still think my decision was right at the Battle of Chuenpi, but I realize now that that cursed nitheaded misbegotten sod Longstaff was right when he said if I’d been you or you’d been me our attitudes would have been the same.”
“What’re you riled at Longstaff for?”
Glessing’s face lost its warmth. “Bloody sod had the impertinence to interfere in naval affairs! He ‘suggested’ to the admiral that I be sent home! Thank God the admiral’s Royal Navy and the bugger’s sacked! And while we’re on the subject of fools, I’m sure you’ve read last night’s paper. That stupid bastard Cunnington! How dare he say Hong Kong’s a godforsaken rock with hardly a house on’t! Absolute bloody nerve! Best harbor on earth! How dare he say we don’t know anything about the sea?”
Struan remembered the first day—good Lord, was that only six-odd months ago?—and he knew that he had been right. Glessing might go down with Hong Kong, but he would fight to the death to protect Glessing’s Point. “Perhaps the new man, Whalen, will agree with Cunnington.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it. Or the admiral. He nearly had apoplexy when he read it. Stands to reason. Look at the fleet. Riding snug and safe as in Portsmouth harbor. Where the devil’d we be a day like today without Hong Kong? Good sweet God! I’d be frightened to death if I was anchored at Macao. Got to have Hong Kong and that’s the end to it. Even that idiot general’s seen the light for once and agrees absolutely,” and he ranted on, damning Cunnington and Longstaff to Struan’s amusement.
The door opened and a flurry of wind and rain rustled the charts. Culum and Tess came in, their spirits high in spite of the weather. “Oh, hello, Tai-Pan,” Culum said. “Can we have tea, Glessing old boy? We said a prayer in your honor!”
“Thanks.” Glessing motioned at the iron pot on the coal stove. “Help yourself.”
Tess curtsied to Struan and took off her sodden cloak. “Morning, Tai-Pan.”
“You’re lovely today, Mrs. Struan,” he said.
She blushed and busied herself pouring the tea.
“You two look happy enough,” Struan said.
“Yes, we are,” Culum said. “We’ve given thanks to God. And for sending the change of wind.”
“Will you na change your mind, lad? Come over to the residence?”
“No, thanks, we’re quite safe here.”
Struan noticed a small jeweled silver box dangling from Culum’s watch chain. “What’s that, Culum?”
“A keepsake. Tess gave it to me.” The little box contained Brock’s twenty sovereigns now, and Culum felt guilty again that he had never told Tess of their significance. He had put them into the box after he and Tess had come ashore off
White Witch the last time: to remind him about Tyler Brock—that Brock hadn’t been fair, hadn’t given him the chance to tell his side.
“It was my grandma’s. It’s not much of a wedding gift,” Tess told Struan. “But with no dowry and all, beggars can’t be pickers.”
“Dinna worry about that, lass. You’re part of The Noble House. When do you move into
your house?”
“In three weeks,” Culum and Tess said together, and they laughed, happy again.
“Good. We’ll do the day proud. Well, see you all later.”
“Look at that fool, Tai-Pan!” Glessing said. He was training his telescope through a porthole at a lorcha barreling into the east channel, sails reefed.
“What the devil’s he doing? Nae day to be out there,” Struan said.
“With your permission, Mr. Struan, I’ll signal her to tie up to your wharf in Happy Valley. She’ll have trouble anchoring in the Roads. And your wharf’s clear.”
“Aye, with pleasure. Who is she?”
“Naval lorcha. Flying the deputy captain superintendent’s pennant.” He snapped his telescope shut. “Her captain needs his head examined to leave Macao in this weather. Or Mr. Monsey’s in a devil of a hurry. What’s your evaluation of that?”
Struan grinned. “I’m no crystal gazer, Captain Glessing.”
Glessing gave the necessary orders to a seaman, who promptly bound the signal flags to the halyard. He opened the ceiling hatch. Rain sprinkled them as the flags were run up.
“Where’s Longstaff?” Struan asked.
“Aboard the flagship,” Glessing said. “Must confess I’d be happier afloat myself.”
“I wouldn’t,” Culum said.
“Oh dear, no,” Tess added.
Struan finished his tea. “Well, I’ll be off. You know where I am if I’m needed.”
“Baint—I mean isn’t that dangerous, Tai-Pan?” Tess asked. “The Happy Valley fever and all? Staying there?”
“The wind and the rain’ll beat down any poison gases,” Struan said with a confidence he did not feel.
“Don’t forget, Tess, there’s some cinchona left, and we’ll soon have plenty,” Culum said. “Tai-Pan, I think the new venture is wonderful. A service to all mankind.”
Struan had told Culum about his arrangement with Cooper before it had been printed. He had also encouraged Culum to spend time with the American; the more he thought about a joining of Cooper and Culum, the more he liked the idea. “Jeff’s very smart, lad. You’ll like working with him.” He pulled on his rain cloak. “Well, I’ll be off. Listen, you two. Dinna worry about Brock. Dinna worry about your father, lass. I’m sure he’ll come around if you give him time. Just give him time.”
“I hope so,” Tess said. “Oh, I hope so.”
On his way out, Struan stopped at the barometer. “Good sweet Jesus! It’s down to 29.5 inches!”
Glessing looked at the time anxiously. It was almost ten o’clock. “That’s damn near half an inch in half an hour.” He made a notation on a pressure chart and followed Struan, who had run outside.
A quarter of the eastern horizon was black, and there seemed to be no division between sea and sky. The wind was fiercer, gusty, still dead-north, and the rain was heavier.
“There she is, all right,” Struan said tensely. “Batten down for your life.” He began sprinting along Queen’s Road toward Happy Valley.
“Inside! Culum, Tess!” Glessing ordered. He slammed the door and bolted it. “Whatever you do, don’t open any doors until further orders.” He pulled the porthole covers over the storm windows and checked all the fastenings, and he realized that Struan was right. The vortex was going to pass directly over them. “I’m very glad you’ve made peace with your father, Culum. Now, I think, some breakfast,” he said calming them. “Mrs. Struan, perhaps you’d supervise?”