There were cheers.
“This is the first opportunity I’ve had for many a day of addressing you all. I would say that we have hard times ahead. But let us not falter. We must all pull together. We must put our backs to the plow and then, with God’s good help, we’ll conquer the heathen to the glory of Her Britannic Majesty and the glory of the Colony of Hong Kong.”
There were three cheers for the queen and three cheers for the colony and three cheers for Longstaff. And the Chinese onlookers chattered and watched and laughed.
“Now, if Mr. Brock will kindly take his mind off the loose change of The Noble House, I will declare the auction open!”
Brock and Gorth smoldered as the laughter swooped over them.
Longstaff stepped off the platform and Glessing moved closer.
“I must reiterate, Your Excellency,” Glessing said, “that due to the lack of time not all the lots have been accurately surveyed.”
“Details. Details, my dear fellow. What does a few feet matter? There’s land enough for all. Please carry on, Culum, my dear chap. Good day to you.” Longstaff walked off toward his cutter, and as he passed Struan he smiled and raised his hat. “Tomorrow at noon, Dirk.”
Culum wiped the sweat off his face and glanced at the little man beside him. “Mr. Hibbs?”
Henry Hardy Hibbs drew himself up to his full five and a half feet and mounted the platform. “Day, gents,” he said with an unctuous smile. “ ’Enry ’Ardy ’Ibbs. Of London Town, late o’ the firm of ’Ibbs, ’Ibbs and ’Ibbs, Auctioneers and Estate Agents, official auctioneer to ’Is Hexellence, the Right ’Onorable Longstaff. At yor service.” He was an untidy, verminous gnome with a bald head and fawning manner. “Lot Number One. Now, wot’m I bid?”
“Where the devil did you find him, Culum?” Struan asked.
“Off one of the merchantmen,” Culum heard himself say, wishing the day over. “He’d worked his passage from Singapore. He had had his pocket picked there and all his money stolen.”
Struan listened as Hibbs efficiently and dexterously wheedled the price upward and upward. He scrutinized the crowd, and frowned.
“What’s the matter, Dirk?” Robb asked.
“I was looking for Gordon. Have you seen him?”
“Last I saw of him he was walking toward Glessing’s Point. Why?”
“Nae matter,” Struan said, thinking it very strange Gordon was not here. I would have thought he’d be bidding for land himself. What better investment could there be?
The bidding for the lots was brisk. All the traders knew that a colony meant permanence. Permanence meant land values would skyrocket. Especially in an island colony where level building land was in short supply. Land meant safety; land could never be lost. Fortunes would be made.
As the sale continued, Struan felt his excitement rising. Across the press of men Brock was waiting, equally on edge. Gorth was near him, his eyes darting from Struan to his men who were surrounding the bullion. Struan and Brock bought the lots they had agreed on. But the prices were higher than they had expected, for the bidding was hotly competitive. They bid against each other for some minor lots. A few Struan bought—on some he withdrew. The tension among the traders grew.
The last of the marine lots was offered and bought. Then the surburban and country lots were offered and they too were bought expensively. Only the knoll remained. It was the largest piece of land, and the best.
“Well, gents, that’s it,” Hibbs said, his voice hoarse from auctioneering. “Them wot has bought has to pay ’arf the nicker now. Receipts from the deputy colonial secretary. If you please!”
An astonished hush fell over the crowd.
“The sale’s not complete yet.” Struan’s voice split the air.
“Yus, by God!” Brock said.
“Eh, gents?” Hibbs said cautiously, sensing trouble.
“What about the knoll?”
“Wot knoll, Yor ’Onors?”
Struan pointed a blunt finger. “That knoll!”
“It, er, ain’t on the list, Guv. Nuffink to do wiv me, Guv,” Hibbs said hastily, and prepared to run. He glanced at Culum who was standing stock-still. “Is it, Yor ’Onor?”
“No.” Culum forced himself to look at his father, the silence choking him.
“Why is it na on the list, by God?”
“Because—because, well, it’s already been purchased.” The hairs on the nape of Culum’s neck crawled as he saw —as though in a dream—his father walk over to him, and all the carefully worked-out words vanished from his head. The reasons. How he had said to Longstaff this morning, in desperation, that it was his father’s thought to put a church there. For the benefit of all Hong Kong. It was the only way, Culum wanted to shout. Don’t you see? You’d’ve destroyed us all. If I’d told you, you’d never have listened. Don’t you see?
“Purchased by whom?”
“By me. For the Church,” Culum stuttered. “One pound a year. The knoll belongs to the Church.”
“
You took my knoll?” The words were soft-spoken but barbed, and Culum felt their cruelty.
“For the Church. Yes,” he croaked. “The . . . deed . . . the deed was signed this morning. I . . . His Excellency signed the deed. In perpetuity.”
“You knew I wanted that land?”
“Yes.” All Culum saw was the blinding light that seemed to stream from his father’s eyes, consuming him, taking his soul. “Yes. Yes. But I decided it was for the Church. I did. The knoll belongs to the House of God.”
“Then you’ve dared to cross me?”
There was a frantic silence. Even Brock was appalled by the power that seemed to pour out of Struan and surround them all.
Culum waited for the blow that he knew was coming— that they all knew was coming.
But Struan’s fists unlocked and he whirled around and walked out of the valley.
Brock’s bellow of laughter shattered the sickening quietness, and everyone flinched involuntarily.
“Shut up, Brock,” Quance said. “Shut up.”
“That I will, Aristotle,” Brock said. “That I will.”
The traders splintered into whispering pockets and Hibbs called out tremulously, “If them wot has bought will kindly step this way. If you please, gents.”
Brock was studying Culum, almost compassionately. “I’d say thy days were numbered, lad,” he said. “Thee doan knowed that devil like I knowed him. Watch thy back.” He went up to Hibbs to pay for his land.
Culum was trembling. He could feel people watching him. He could feel their awe. Or was it horror?
“For the love of God, why didn’t you ask him?” Robb said, hardly over his shock. “Eh? Before you did it?”
“He wouldn’t have agreed, would he?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. He might have. Or he might have left Brock holding—” He stopped weakly. “And don’t pay any attention to what Brock said. He’s just trying to frighten you. There’s no need to worry. None.”
“I think Father
is the Devil.”
An involuntary shudder ran through Robb. “That’s stupid, lad. Stupid. You’re just overwrought. We all are. The bullion and—well, the excitement of the moment. Nothing to worry about. Of course he’ll understand when . . .” Robb’s words trailed off. Then he hurried after his brother.