Blue Cloud was battened down half a day later and she charged in pursuit. The race was on.
Gorth ranted and raved because his ship had gone with a new captain, but Brock was inflexible. “It be no good with thy wound and thee be needed here.” So Gorth planned against the time that he would be Tai-Pan.
The Tai-Pan, by God. He went back aboard
Nemesis. Since the ship had steamed into harbor he had spent every spare moment in her, learning how to sail her, how to fight her, what she would do and what she would not do. For he knew, and his father knew, that
Nemesis meant the death of sail—and, with joss, the death of The Noble House. Both knew of Struan’s abhorrence of steamers, and though they realized that the transition from sail to steam would be hazardous, they decided to gamble heavily on the future. The same wind and the same tide that
Nemesis had beaten coming into Hong Kong harbor later carried the mail packet back to England. In the ship was a letter from Brock to his son Morgan. The letter canceled two of the clippers he had ordered and substituted the first two keels of Brock and Sons’ new steamship line. The Orient Queen Line.
“Tai-Pan,” May-may said in the darkness of their bedroom and in the comfort of their bed, “can I go back to Macao? For a few days? I take the children with me.”
“Are you tired of the Settlement?”
“No. But difficult here without all clotheses and children’s toys. Just for few days, heya?”
“I’ve already told you about the rewards, and I—”
She stopped his words with a kiss and moved closer into his warmth. “You smell so nice.”
“And you.”
“That Ma-ree Sin-clair. I liked her.”
“She’s—she’s got a lot of courage.”
“It was strange you sent woman. Na like you.”
“There was nae time to send anyone else.”
“Her Cantonese and Mandarin is fantastical good.”
“That’s a secret. You must na tell anyone.”
“Of course, Tai-Pan.”
The darkness thickened for both of them and they were lost in their own thoughts.
“Have you always slept without clotheses?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“How for do you na get chills?”
“I dinna ken. The Highlands are colder than here. As a bairn I was very poor.”
“What’s a bairn?”
“Child.”
She smiled. “I like to think of you as child. But you’re na poor now. And two of the three things are done. Aren’t they?”
“What things?” he asked, conscious of the perfume of her, and the touch of the silk that enclosed her.
“The first was to get the bullion, remember? The second to get Hong Kong safe. What was third?”
She turned onto her side and moved one of her legs over his and he lay motionless. But he felt the touch of her leg through the silk and waited, his throat parched. “Hong Kong’s na safe yet,” he said.
Her hand began to move over him. “With trade this year it is isn’t it? So the second will soon be done.”
“With joss.”
His hand loosened her sleeping gown without haste and his hand began to move over her. He helped her out of her sleeping gown and lit the candle and moved the silk sheets aside. He looked at her, filled with the wonder of her—the smooth lucency of her, like molten porcelain.
“It’s exciting—you looking at me, knowing I please you,” she said.
And then they loved, without haste.
Later she said, “When do you return to Hong Kong?”
“In ten days.” Ten days, he thought. Then the picking of Wu Kwok’s men at Aberdeen, and the next night the ball.
“Shall I go with you?”
“Aye.”
“Will the new house be ready then?”
“Aye. You’ll be safe there.” His arm was resting across her loins and he ran the tip of his tongue over her cheek and onto her throat.
“It will be good to live on Hong Kong. Then I will be able to see more of my teacher. It’s months since I had good talk with Gordon. Perhaps we could have weekly lessons again? I need to learn more and better words. How is he?”
“Fine. I saw him just before I left.”
After a pause she said gently. “It’s na good to have fight with your number-one son.”
“I know.”
“I burn three candles that your anger flies to Java and you forgive him. When you forgive him I would like to meet him.”
“You will. In time.”
“Can I go to Macao before Hong Kong? Please. I would be very careful. I would leave the children here. They would be safe here.”
“Why’s Macao so important?”
“I need things and—it’s secret, a nice one, a surprise secret. Only few days? Please. You could send Mauss and some of the men if you wish.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Na dangerous now,” May-may said, knowing that their names were off the list, and filled with astonishment again that Struan had not clapped his hands with delight—as she had—when he had told her of Jin-qua’s solution to the list. Ayeee yah, she thought, Europeans are very strange. Very. “Nae danger now. Even so I would be very careful.”
“What’s so important? What secret?”
“Surprise secret. I tell you very soon. But secret now.”
“I’ll think about it. Now sleep.”
May-may relaxed contentedly, knowing that in a few days she would be going to Macao, knowing that there are many ways for a woman to get her way with her man—good or bad, clever or stupid, strong or weak. My ball gown will be the bestest, the very bestest, she told herself excitedly. My Tai-Pan will be proud of me. So very proud. Proud enough to marry me and make me his Supreme Lady.
And her last thought before sweet sleep took her was of the child that was budding in her womb. Only a few weeks agrowing. My child will be a son, she promised herself. A son for him to be proud of. Two wonderful surprise secrets for him to be proud of.
“I dinna ken, Vargas,” Struan said peevishly. “You’d better take this up with Robb. He knows the figures better than I.”
They were in Struan’s private office, poring over the ledger. The windows of the office were open to the hum of Canton, and the flies were swarming. It was a warm spring day and already the stench had grown appreciably from its winter low.
“Jin-qua is very anxious to have our final order, senhor, and—”
“I know that. But until he gives us his final order of opium we canna do that accurately. We’re offering the best price on tea and the best on opium, so what’s the delay?”
“I don’t know, senhor,” Vargas said. He did not ask, as he would have liked to, why The Noble House was paying ten percent more for Jin-qua’s teas than other traders, and selling the best Indian Padwa opium to Jin-qua at ten percent under the current market price.
“Devil take it!” Struan said, and poured some tea. He wished he hadn’t allowed May-may to go to Macao. He had sent Ah Sam with her, and Mauss and some of his men to watch over them. She had been due to return yesterday but was still not back. Of course that was not unusual—the passage from Macao to the Canton Settlement could never be judged exactly. No sea voyage could. Na when you have to depend on the wind, he thought sardonically. If she was in a stinkpot steamer, that would be different. Steamers can hit schedules and forget winds and forget tides, godrot them.