“Dirk?” Longstaff asked.
“I agree with Mr. Brock. But no lashing and no branding. Those belong in the Dark Ages.”
“From what I’ve seen of these heathens,” the general said distastefully, “they’re still in the Dark Ages. Of course they have to be punished if they belong to an outlawed group. The lash is an ordinary punishment. Set it at fifty lashes. And branding on the cheek is correct English legal punishment for certain felonies. Brand them too. But better hang the first dozen we catch and they’ll evaporate like dervishes.”
“Mark them permanently,” Struan flared, “and you never give them a chance to become good citizens again.”
“Good citizens don’t band into secret anarchistic societies, my good sir,” the general said. “But then, only a gentleman would appreciate the value of that advice.”
Struan felt the blood soar to his face. “The next time you make a remark like that, M’Lord, I’ll send some seconds to call on you and you’ll find a bullet between your eyes.”
There was an aghast silence. White with shock, Longstaff rapped the table. “I forbid either of you to proceed with this line of talk. It is forbidden.” He took out his lace kerchief and wiped away the sudden sweat on his forehead. His mouth tasted dry and sour.
“I quite agree, Your Excellency,” the general said. “And I suggest further that this problem is solely one for the
authorities to decide: you, in conjunction with the admiral and myself, should decide this sort of matter. It’s not in the—in the domain of tradespeople.”
“Thee’s so full of wind, M’Lord General,” Brock said, “that if thee farted here in Canton, it’d blow the gate off’n Tower of London!”
“Mr. Brock!” Longstaff began. “You will not—”
The general slammed to his feet. “I’ll thank you, my good sir, to keep that sort of remark to yourself.”
“I baint yor good sir. I be a China trader, by God, and the sooner thee knows it the better. The time be gone forever when the like of me’s to suck thy arse ’cause of a poxy title which like as not were gifted first to a king’s whore, a king’s bastard, or buyed by knife in a king’s back.”
“By God, I demand satisfaction. My seconds will call on you today!”
“They will do no such thing, M’Lord,” Longstaff said, crashing the flat of his hand onto the table. “If there is any trouble between either of you I’ll send you both home under guard and impeach you before the Privy Council. I’m Her Majesty’s plenipotentiary in Asia and I am the law. Goddamme, it’s most unseemly. You will each apologize to the other! I order you to. Immediately.”
The admiral hid his grim amusement. Horatio looked from face to face with disbelief. Brock was aware that Longstaff had the power to hurt him and he wanted no duel with the general. And, too, he was furious for allowing himself to be drawn into open hostility. “I apologize, M’Lord. For calling thee a bagful of fart.”
“And I apologize because I’m ordered to do so.”
“I think we’ll close this meeting for the present,” Longstaff said, greatly relieved. “Yes. Thank you for your advice, gentlemen. We’ll postpone a decision. Give us all time to think, what?”
The general put on his bearskin helmet, saluted, and made for the door, spurs and sword clinking.
“Oh, General, by the way,” Struan said casually, “I heat that the navy’s challenged the army to a prizefight.”
The general stopped in his tracks, his hand on the doorknob, and bristled as he remembered the remarks the admiral purportedly had been making about his soldiers. “Yes. I’m afraid it won’t be much of a match though.”
“Why, General?” the admiral said irately, remembering the remarks that the general purportedly had been making about his jolly jack-tars.
“Because I’d say our man’ll win, M’Lord. Without too much of an effort.”
“Why na have the match the day of the ball?” Struan suggested. “We would deem it an honor and we’d be glad to put up a purse. Say fifty guineas.”
“That’s very generous, Struan, but I don’t think the army’ll be ready by then.”
“The day of the ball, by God,” the general said, purple. “A hundred guineas on our man!”
“Done,” said the admiral and Brock simultaneously.
“A hundred to both of you!” The general turned on his heel and stalked out.
Longstaff poured himself some sherry. “Admiral?”
“No, thank you, sir. I think I’ll get back to my ship.” The admiral picked up his sword, nodded to Struan and Brock, saluted and left.
“Sherry, gentlemen? Horatio, perhaps you’d do the honors?”
“Certainly, Your Excellency,” Horatio said, glad to have something to do.
“Thankee.” Brock emptied the glass and held it out to be refilled. “That be tasting good. You’ve a excellent palate, Your Excellency. Eh, Dirk lad?”
“I really must remonstrate with you, Mr. Brock. Unforgivable to say such things. Lord—”
“Yus, sir,” Brock said, acting the penitent. “You was right. I were in the wrong. We be lucky to have thee in charge. When be thee issuing the proclamation about the free port?”
“Well, er, there’s no hurry. These damned anarchists have to be dealt with.”
“Why not deal with them both together?” Struan said. “As soon as you get back to Hong Kong. Why not give our Chinese British subjects the benefit of the doubt? Deport them, but no flogging and no branding to begin with. That’s fair, eh, Tyler?”
“If thee says so and His Excellency agrees,” Brock replied expansively. Trade had been huge.
Gray Witch was well away and in the lead. Buildings were going up at Happy Valley. There was open hostility between Struan and Culum. And now Hong Kong was to be a free port. Aye, Dirk, lad, he told himself ecstatically, you be having yor uses still. You be smart as a whip. Free port be making up for all thy devilment. An’ in two year our steamships be driving thee into bankruptcy. “Yus,” he added, “if thee both agrees. But soon you’ll be having to flog and brand.”
“I certainly hope not,” Longstaff said. “Disgusting business. Still, the law must be enforced and felons dealt with. An excellent solution, gentlemen, to the—what did you call them, Mr. Brock? Ah yes, Triads. We’ll call them Triads in future. Horatio, make a list in characters of the tong names His Excellency Ching-so gave us and we’ll post it with the proclamation. Take this down while I think of it: ‘All the above tongs are outlawed and will be known in future under the general name of “Triads.” The penalty for being a Triad is instant deportation and handing over to the Chinese authorities. The penalty for inciting overt rebellion against Her Britannic Majesty’s Government—or against His Highness, the Emperor of the Chinese—is hanging.’ ”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The village of Aberdeen lay dark and humid and silent under the full moon. The streets were deserted and the doors of the huts barred tight. Hundreds of sampans were moored in the still, muddy waters. And though they were as jam-packed as the huts, there was neither sound nor movement aboard.