“All right. But I still think it’s peculiar.”
Struan refilled their glasses.
“Now. I think we should celebrate the rebirth of The Noble House.”
“How, Dirk?” Robb asked.
“We’ll give a ball.”
“What?” Culum looked up excitedly, his indignation forgotten.
“Aye, a ball. For the whole European population. In princely style. A month from today.”
“That’ll set a hawk among the pigeons!” Robb said.
“What do you mean, Uncle?”
“There’ll be the biggest panic among the ladies you’ve ever seen. They’ll vie with each other for the honor of being the best-dressed—in the latest fashion! They’ll hound their husbands and try to steal each other’s dressmakers! My God, a ball is a marvelous idea. I wonder what Shevaun will wear.”
“Nothing—if it pleases her!” Struan’s eyes glowed. “Aye, a ball. We’ll give a prize for the best-dressed lady. I think the prize—”
“Have you not heard of the judgment of Paris?” Robb said aghast.
“Aye. But Aristotle’ll be the judge.”
“He’s much too clever to take that position.”
“We’ll see.” Struan reflected a moment. “The prize has to be worthy. A thousand guineas.”
“You must be joking!” Culum said.
“A thousand guineas.”
Culum was overwhelmed by the idea of such extravagance. It was obscene. Criminal. A thousand guineas in England today and you could live like a king, for five or ten years. The wage of a factory man who worked from sunup to sundown and deep into the night, six days a week, for all the weeks of the year, was fifteen to twenty pounds a year—and on this a home was made and children brought up and a wife kept, rent, food, clothing, coal. My father’s mad, he thought, money-mad. Think of the twenty thousand guineas he peed—yes, peed away—on the stupid bet with Brock and Gorth. But that was a gamble to dispose of Brock. A worthwhile gamble if it had come off, and in a way it has—the bullion is in
China Cloud and we’re rich again. Rich.
Now Cullum knew that to be rich was no longer to be poor. He knew that his father was right—it wasn’t money that was important. Only the lack of it.
“It’s too much, too much,” Robb was saying, shocked.
“Aye. In one way it is.” Struan lit a cheroot. “But it’s the duty of The Noble House to be princely. The news will flood like no news before. And the story of it will last for a hundred years.” He put his hand on Culum’s shoulder. “Never forget another rule, laddie: When you’re gambling for high stakes you must risk high. If you’re na prepared to risk high, you dinna belong in the game.”
“Such a—a huge amount will make, may make, some people risk more money than they can afford. That’s not good, is it?”
“The point of money is to use it. I’d say this is going to be money well spent.”
“But what are the stakes you gain?”
“Face, lad.” Struan turned to Robb. “Who’s the winner?”
Robb shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know. Beauty—Shevaun. But best-dressed? There’re some who’d risk a fortune to get the honor, let alone the prize.”
“Have you met Shevaun yet, Culum?”
“No, Father. I saw her once taking a promenade on the road that George—George Glessing—has laid out from Glessing’s Point to Happy Valley. Miss Tillman’s beautiful. But I think Miss Sinclair’s much more attractive. So charming. George and I spent some time in her company.”
“Did you, now?” Struan held down his sudden interest.
“Yes,” Culum replied ingenuously. “We had a farewell dinner with Miss Sinclair and Horatio on George’s ship. Poor George has had his ship taken away from him. He was most upset. We’re really going to have a ball?”
“Why has Glessing lost his ship?”
“Longstaff appointed him harbor master and chief surveyor, and the admiral ordered him to accept the positions. Miss Sinclair agreed with me that it was a good opportunity for him—but he didn’t think so.”
“Do you like him?”
“Oh, yes. He was very nice to me.” Culum almost added, even though I’m the son of the Tai-Pan. He thanked his luck that Glessing and he had a shared interest. Both were fine cricket players—Culum had captained the university team, and last year had played for his county.
“By Jove,” Glessing had said, “you must be damned good. Only fielded for the navy myself. What bat did you play?”
“First wicket down.”
“By Gad—best I’ve made was second. Damme, Culum old chap, perhaps we should set aside a place for a cricket ground, eh? Get a bit of practice in, eh?”
Culum smiled to himself, very glad he was a cricketer.
Without that he knew Glessing would have dismissed him; then he would not have had the pleasure of being near Mary. He wondered if he could escort her to the ball. “Miss Sinclair and Horatio like you very much, Father.”
“I thought Mary was in Macao.”
“She was, Father. But she came back to Hong Kong for a few days, a week or so ago. A lovely lady, isn’t she?”
There was a sudden clanging of the ship’s bell and the scurry of feet, and the cry “All hands on deck!” Struan bolted out of the cabin.
Robb started to follow, but stopped at the cabin door. “Two things quickly while we’re alone, Culum. First, do what your father says and be patient with him. He’s a strange man, with strange ideas, but most of them work. Second, I’ll help you all I can to become Tai-Pan.” Then he rushed out of the cabin, with Culum trailing behind.
When Struan burst onto the quarterdeck, the crew was already at action stations and opening the gunports, and aloft men were swarming the rigging.
Directly ahead, spread against the horizon, was a menacing fleet of war junks.
“By Thor’s left buttock, it’s a bloody fleet!” Captain Orlov said. “I’ve counted more than a hundred, Tai-Pan. Turn and run?”
“Hold your course, Captain. We’ve the speed of them. Clear decks! We’ll go closer and have a look. Set royals and fore-royals!”
Orlov bellowed aloft, “Set royals and fore-royals! All sails ho!” The officers took up the shouts and the men raced into the shrouds and unfurled the sails, and
China Cloud picked up speed and sliced through the water.
The ship was in the channel between the big island of Pokliu Chau, two miles to port, and the smaller island of Ap Li Chau half a mile to starboard. Ap Li Chau was a quarter of a mile off the coast of Hong Kong Island and formed a fine bay that had been named Aberdeen. On the shore at Aberdeen was a small fishing village. Struan observed more sampans and fishing junks than had been there a month ago.
Robb and Culum came up onto the quarterdeck. Robb saw the junks and his scalp prickled. “Who are they, Dirk?”
“Dinna ken, lad. Keep clear there!”
Culum and Robb jumped out of the way as a bevy of sailors clambered down the rigging and chanteyed the hawsers tight, then raced aft to their action stations. Struan passed the binoculars to Mauss, who had lumbered up beside him. “Can you make out the flag, Wolfgang?”
“No, not yet, Tai-Pan.” Wolfgang was peering dry-mouthed at a huge ponderous war junk in the lead, one of the biggest he had ever seen—over two hundred feet long and about five hundred tons, the dominating stern heeling slowly under the press of the three vast sails. “