Skinner watched Struan approach Gordon Chen and wished he could be privy to that conversation. Then he noticed Brock and his family chatting with Nagrek Thumb. This
is a great day, he thought gleefully, as he lumbered toward them. Who’ll get the knoll?
“I was so sorry to hear about your loss, sir,” Gordon Chen was saying. “I tried to see you but failed in my duty. I offered a prayer.”
“Thank you.”
“My mother asked me to tell you she would observe the usual hundred days of mourning.”
“Please tell her that’s na necessary,” Struan said, knowing that she would do so anyway. “Now, what’s been going on with you since I last saw you?”
“Nothing very much. I tried to help Chen Sheng find the house some credit, sir. But I’m afraid we were not successful.” The wind tugged at his queue, shaking it.
“Credit is very hard to come by,” Struan said.
“Yes, it is indeed. I’m sorry.” Gordon Chen thought about the vast quantity of bullion in
China Cloud’s hold and was filled with admiration for his father. He had heard the rumors this morning, and they had confirmed others that had filtered into Tai Ping Shan: that the Tai-Pan had smuggled the bullion out of Canton from under the noses of the hated Manchus. But he said nothing about the rebirth of The Noble House, for that would be impolite.
“Perhaps it’s time that you had a little credit. I might be able to arrange it. Say, one lac of silver.”
Gordon Chen’s eyes flickered, and he gasped, “That is a huge amount of credit, sir.”
“You take one-fourth of the profit, I take three.”
“That would be very fair, sir,” Gordon Chen said, collecting his shattered wits quickly. “Generous. In such hard times as these, most fair. But if I were to have two-thirds and you one-third, that would assist me to increase your profit considerably. Very considerably.”
“I expect the profit to be considerable.” Struan threw his cheroot away. “We’ll be partners. You take one half, I one half. This is a private arrangement between us. To be secret. You will keep books and account monthly. Agreed?”
“Agreed. You are more than a little generous, sir. Thank you.”
“See me this evening and I’ll give you the necessary paper. I’ll be aboard
Resting Cloud.”
Gorden Chen was so happy that he wanted to jump and shout with joy. He could not fathom why his father was so generous. But he knew that the one lac was very safe and that it would increase a thousandfold. With joss, he added quickly. Then he remembered the Hung Mun Tong and wondered if loyalty to the long would conflict with loyalty to his father. And if it did, which would dominate. “I can’t thank you enough, sir. Can this agreement begin at once?”
“Aye. I suppose you’ll want to bid on some land.”
“I had thought—” Gordon Chen stopped.
Culum was approaching them, his face set.
“Hello, Culum,” Struan said.
“Hello, Father.”
“This is Gordon Chen. My son, Culum,” Struan said, conscious of the stares and the silence of the crowd on the beach.
Gordon Chen bowed. “I’m honored to meet you, sir.”
“Gordon’s your half brother, Culum,” Struan said.
“I know.” Culum stuck out his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
Still dumfounded from hearing Struan acknowledge him as son, Gordon weakly shook his hand. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“How old are you, Gordon?” Culum asked.
“Twenty, sir.”
“Half brothers should call each other by their Christian names, shouldn’t they?”
“If it pleases you.”
“We must get to know each other.” Culum turned to Struan, who was rocked by his son’s acknowledgment of Gordon. “Sorry to disturb you, Father. I just wanted to meet Gordon,” he said, and left.
Struan felt the silence break as the still-life beach came alive again. And he was astonished to see tears streaming down Gordon’s face.
“I’m sorry—I’m—I’ve waited all my life, Mr. Struan. Thank you. Thank you,” Gordon said brokenly.
“Most people call me ‘Tai-Pan,’ lad. We’ll forget the ‘Mr. Struan.’ ”
“Yes, Tai-Pan.” Gordon Chen bowed and walked away.
As Struan started to go after Culum, he saw Longstaff’s cutter beach. The admiral and a group of naval officers were with him. Horatio as well.
Good, Struan thought. Now Brock.
He waved to Robb and motioned at Brock. Robb nodded and left Sarah and overtook Culum. Together they joined Struan.
“Do you have the papers, Robb?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, then. Let’s get our notes back.” Struan glanced at Culum. “Nothing to be nervous about, lad.”
“Yes.”
They walked a way and Struan said, “I’m glad you met Gordon, Culum. Thank you.”
“I—I wanted to meet him today. With you. Well—publicly.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t that giving you the face you say is so important?”
“Who told you about Gordon?”
“I heard rumors when I came back from Canton. People are ever ready to spread bad news.” He remembered the sardonic amusement of most of the traders and their wives whom he had met. “So sorry, lad, you came at such a bad time. Pity the house is dead. Won’t be the same without The Noble House,” they would say in various ways. But Culum knew they were all gloating, glad to see the house humbled. Aunt Sarah had been the one to really open his eyes to his naivete. They had been walking along Queen’s Road and had passed some Eurasians, the first he had seen, a boy and girl, and he had asked her what nationality they were, and where they came from.
“Here,” she had said. “They’re half-castes, half-English half-heathen. Many of the traders have bastards from heathen mistresses. It’s all very secret, of course, but everyone knows. Your Uncle Robb has one.”
“What?”
“I sent her and her whelp packing years ago. It wouldn’t have been so bad, I suppose, if the woman had been Christian and pretty. I could have understood that. But her—no.”
“Has—has Father—other children?”
“Children I don’t know, Culum. He has a son who works for his compradore, called Gordon Chen. Your father has a curious sense of humor, giving him a clan Christian name. I hear he’s been baptized a Christian. I suppose that’s something. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you, Culum. But someone has to, and perhaps it’s better for you to learn the truth from your kin and not overhear it snickered behind your back. Oh, yes. You’ve at least one half brother in Asia.”
That night he had been unable to sleep. The next day he had gone ashore despairingly. Some naval officers, Glessing among them, were playing cricket, and he had been asked to make up the team. When it was his turn to bat, he took all of his anger out on the ball, smashing it, wanting to kill it, and with it, his shame. He had played brilliantly but had got no pleasure from the game. Later Glessing had drawn him aside and asked him what was the matter. He had blurted it out.
“I don’t approve of your father—as you no doubt know,” Glessing had said. “But that has nothing to do with his private life. Have the same problem as you, myself. At least, I know my father’s got a mistress in Maida Vale. Two sons and a daughter. He’s never mentioned it to me, though I expect he knows I know. Damned difficult, but what’s a man to do? Probably when I’m that old I’ll do the same. Have to wait and see. Course, I agree it’s damned uncomfortable knowing you’ve a half-caste brother.”