“You’ll have everything to do with it. For five months and five years. You made a holy oath.”
“You’d hold me to that? Now?”
“You’ll hold yoursel’ to it. Your salary’s trebled.”
“You think money’s important in a thing like this?”
“It’s small payment for two days of hell.”
“I don’t want any money. And I won’t do it. I can’t.”
Struan selected a drumstick reflectively. “I considered you very carefully. I was tempted na to tell you at all. To let you act a role unknowingly. But then I weighed you. I decided you could do it, knowing. It’ll be more enjoyable for both of us now that you know.”
“You’d let me live my life and end my life hating you? Just to further The Noble House?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“You’re unholy.”
“I agree. In some ways,” he said, munching the chicken, “I’m all the things you said, and more. I break many of the Commandments but na all. I know what I do and I’m ready to answer for what I do. But I’m the only man on earth you can completely trust—providing you dinna, with calculation, go against the house. I’m
the Tai-Pan. With suffering and devilment you’ll be the
same.”
“It’s not worth the hypocrisy. Or the evil.”
“Ah, lad, you do my heart good,” Struan said, throwing away the chicken bone. “You’re so young. I envy you your years ahead. Na worth it? To be the best? To rule Brock and the others by the skill of your presence? Longstaff, and through him the Crown? The Emperor of China? And through him three hundred millions of Chinese?” Struan drank some wine. “It’s worth it. Much hatred and a little playacting is a small price to pay.”
Culum leaned back into the cradle of the rock, his mind raging with the relentless words and questions and implacable answers. Is this the will of God? he asked himself. The strongest survive at the expense of the weak? For God made all things and the pattern thereof. But Jesus said, “The meek shall inherit the earth.” Did He mean the earth—or the Kingdom of God?
Meekness would not have obtained the bullion, or protected it. Meekness would not have saved The Noble House this time over the knoll. Meekness will never make progress, never overcome the cruel and the greedy. If I’m Tai-Pan, the Charter will go forward. Wealth with a purpose—an immortal purpose,
he said. Very well.
Culum Struan’s hatred of his father vanished. And with the hatred, his love. All that remained was respect.
“Why did you come up here?” Culum asked.
Struan knew that he had lost his son. He was saddened as a father, but not as a man. He had brought his enemy to battle on his own terms and in his own time. So he had done his duty as a father.
“To tire you so I could talk and make you understand,” he said. “And to show you that though the view from the knoll is fine, from here it is grand.”
Culum saw the view for the first time. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Then he leaned forward and chose a piece of chicken and began to eat.
Struan kept the pain off his face. The lad’s smile will come back, he told himself. Give the lad time. It’s raw growing up so fast. Give the lad time.
He felt very tired. He leaned against a rock and turned his binoculars south, seeking
China Cloud. But it was nowhere in sight. Idly he scanned the horizon. Then his eyes fixed.
“Look, lad. There’s
Blue Cloud!”
Culum took the binoculars and saw the clipper. She was a sister to
Thunder Cloud, 18 guns, as fleet, as beautiful. As beautiful even to Culum, who loathed ships and the sea.
“She’ll have a hundred thousand guineas’ worth of opium aboard her,” Struan said. “Now what should you do? We’ve three ships here and sixteen more due within the month.”
“Send them north? To sell their cargoes?”
“Aye.” A shadow crossed Struan’s face. “That reminds me. You remember Isaac Perry?”
“Yes. It seems a century ago.”
“I beached him, remember? Because he failed McKay, and because he was afraid of me and I didn’t know why. I gave McKay fifteen days to find out the answer to that riddle, but he never came back to Canton. Last night I saw McKay. He’s got a shore berth now—a deputy magistrate and peeler.” He lit a cheroot, cupping his hand against the wind, and passed it over to Culum and lit another. “Well, it seems that Perry has a berth with Cooper-Tillman now. On their Virginia-Africa run. Slaving.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Wilf Tillman told me. Last night. He shrugged and said that Perry had na wanted the China run any more. So he had offered Perry a blackbirder. Perry took it. He left a week ago. Just before Perry left, McKay tricked him. They got drunk together. McKay said he’d been sacked by me—as he had—and cursed me, asked for a berth on Perry’s new ship, swearing to revenge himself on me. Drink makes any tongue wag and Perry’s wagged. He told McKay that he’d sold a copy of our secret trading places up the coast—latitudes and longitudes—and names of our opium dealers to Morgan Brock. The last time he was in London.”
“Then Brock knows all the secret places?”
“The ones Perry’s used. Ten years of trading. That covers most.”
“What can we do?”
“Find new places and new men to trust. So you see, lad, you canna put too much faith in anyone.”
“That’s terrible.”
“That’s a law of survival. Rest for an hour, then we’ll be off.”
“Where to?”
“Aberdeen. We’re going to have a look quietly. Against the picking of Wu Kwok’s men.” He opened the haversack and passed over a pistol. “Can you use one of these?”
“Not very well.”
“It might be as well for you to practice.”
“All right.” Culum examined it. He had used dueling pistols once in a foolish university squabble, and both he and his adversary had been so terrified that the bullets had missed by yards.
“We can go now,” Culum said. “I’m not tired any more.”
Struan shook his head. “I want to wait until
China Cloud heaves over the horizon.”
“Where’s she been?”
“Macao.”
“Why?”
“I sent her there.” Struan brushed crumbs off his jacket. “A reward’s just been put on the head of my mistress. And my son and daughter by her, if they’re captured alive. I sent Mauss and
China Cloud to bring them both here. They’ll be safe aboard.”
“But Gordon’s already here. I saw him yesterday.”
“This lass is not his mother.”
Culum found it curious that now he was not hurt by the knowledge that his father had two—no, three—families. Three, counting himself and Winifred. “Kidnaping’s a terrible thing. Terrible,” he said.
“There’s a reward on your head now. Ten thousand dollars.”
“Am I worth that? I wonder.”
“If a Chinese offers ten, you can bet that you’re worth a hundred.” Struan again focused the binoculars on
Blue Cloud. “I think a hundred thousand would be more correct. For you.”