by Gai-Jin(Lit)
Yours Truly, not when I'm in charge. Tomorrow you'll take a closer look afore the good
Doctor's awake, and afore Lord God
Almighty Pallidar arrives for inspection.
He can find the answer.
KANAGAWA
Friday, 12th December:
Pallidar said icily, "Well, Doctor?"
Hoag had just been summoned. He sat on the edge of a chair, uncomfortable and pale.
Stiff-backed and uniformed, Pallidar was imposing even though he had a bad cold. On the desk was his plumed hat, his sword beside it, the early morning light glinting off the braid. Behind him stood Sergeant Towery. Bells from the temple toned ominously.
Hoag shrugged meekly. "Ballast."
"For Christ's sake, Doctor, this isn't a court martial and personally I don't care if you pack coffins with cow shit, kindly tell me why you did what you did last night."
"I... I... thought, thought it was a good idea."
"I want to know, now..." A cough stopped him. Exasperated, Pallidar blew his nose and coughed, cleared his throat, and coughed again.
Hoag said brightly, "I've, we've some special, new cough mixture in the clinic, it'll get rid of that cold in a jiffy, it's got quinine in it, opium." He began to get up. "I'll get some an--"
"Sit down! The coffin, for Christ's sake, not my cold! The Sergeant saw you. Rightly he told me. Now you tell me why?"
Hoag had twisted and turned but knew he was trapped. Cursing the Sergeant silently, he said, "Can, can I, can I talk to you alone,
Settry, old boy, please?"
Pallidar glared at him. "All right.
Sergeant!" Towery saluted and marched out.
"Well?"
"Well you see... you see..." Although
Hoag had decided to tell him sharply to please mind his own business, that he wasn't subject to military discipline anymore, thank God, you bloody officers trampled on me before but you're not going to do it again... he suddenly found himself pouring out the story in detail, ending, "So you see, Settry, it was the weight, the difference in weight, earth was perfect.... Listen,
George Babcott is due any moment but he's not to know, no one is--you know nothing--we just send the wrong, the right coffin aboard the clipper and tonight when the cutter arrives, God willing, we bury him as he wanted and Angel wants."
Hoag fanned himself, feeling better, at the same time weak with guilt. "You know nothing. Now, now I'll get that cough mixture."
"Will you sit down." Pallidar glowered at him. "You're a bloody fool. First: have you looked out of the window?"
"Eh?" Hoag did as he was bidden. These windows faced seawards. The sea was grey, swell heavy and nimbus clouds had closed out the sun, dominating the sky. "Oh!"
"Yes, oh! There'll be a bloody storm before dusk so no cutter burial even if it was possible, and you know Sir William ordered a
Hong Kong burial so by God that's where it will be."
"But Settry, don't--"
"Not for you, Angelique, anyone--"
Pallidar broke off with a new fit of coughing, then added hoarsely, "Sir William's in charge, he made a decision and that's it.
Clear?"
"Yes, but..."
"No bloody but for Christ's sake. Kindly fetch some cough medicine and stay to hell out of the morgue. Sergeant!"
Towery stuck his head in. "Yessir?"
"Put a sentry on the morgue, no one to go in without my approval. I don't want the coffins touched."
Hoag went off cursing himself for leaking Sir
William's decision, cursing Pallidar, the busybody Sergeant, but mostly himself. Fuck it, he thought. I've botched it. In the clinic he found the cough mixture, was tempted to add some castor oil but decided not to. "Here,
Settry, this will do the trick."
Pallidar took some, choked. "Filthy stuff, you sure you didn't pee in it just for badness?"
"I was tempted." Hoag smiled. "Sorry for being a perfect bloody idiot. You can still close your eyes, you could you know, Nelson did."
"Yes but he was Navy, we keep our eyes on teeth marks."
"Settry. Please?"
Thoughtfully Pallidar sipped the medicine.
"You should comply with Sir William's order, best in the long run. You were bound to be caught, yesterday was the thirteenth."
"Damn me, I didn't notice."
Hoag's attention focused on the care lines on the good-looking face. "What's up?"
"With me, nothing, except this lousy cold and cough. Plenty's up in the Settlement."
"What now?"
"Last few days lots of enemy movement all around us, samurai patrols, most of them covert
--just for safety we've been patrolling to the
Tokaid@o and Settlement limits so we spotted them. Coming here samurai were stacked ten-deep in places. They didn't interfere with us except for the usual gibbering. I counted almost four hundred armed bastards."
"Tair@o Anjo trying to harass us, scare us?"
"Probably." Pallidar coughed, took another gulp of the medicine. "This is dreadful,
I feel worse already. Ugh! I'm recommending we withdraw all personnel from here for a while."
Hoag whistled. "We wouldn't want to close the clinic."
"I wouldn't want to have you dead without a coffin.
These bastards love surprise attacks. Like poor bloody Malcolm. Someone's going to pay for him."
Hoag nodded, "I agree." Idly he was looking out towards Yokohama, the countryside flat and uninteresting in winter--hate the cold, always have always will. His eyes took him to Prancing
Cloud, the steamer mail ship, the merchantmen, warships and tenders all busy, preparing for the coming storm or preparing to leave. Warships had smoke trickling from their funnels--fleet orders, well publicized, so that the Bakufu and their spies would be aware that the whole fleet could sail on a war footing within an hour.
Stupid, all the killing, but then what can we do? Those responsible must pay. Then he saw the smoke from the Struan steam cutter chugging this way, bobbing through the troughs, spray from the bow wave drenching the glass of the bridge and main cabin. His anxiety crested.
"Settry, don't you think--" He aborted another fervent plea, suddenly realizing that even if tonight was out for the actual burial, with luck he could still keep the first part of the plan and have the wrong coffin put aboard Prancing Cloud.
I'm the only one who knows which coffin is which, except perhaps the Sergeant and I've a hunch he won't notice the difference. No one can, unless a coffin is opened. "Don't you think life in
Yokohama is weirder than other places, living on a powder keg as we do?"
"It's the same everywhere. Just the same,"
Pallidar said thoughtfully, watching him.
YOKOHAMA
Jamie, Angelique and Skye were grouped around the bay window in the tai-pan's office.
Rain splattered the glass. It was near midday.
"Tonight will be too dangerous."
"Then it will storm, Jamie?"
"Yes, Angelique. Enough to stop us."
"Will Cloud sail tonight as planned?"
"Yes, no storm will stop her. The cutter's gone to Kanagawa to collect the other coffin. You still want it put aboard her and not the mail ship?"
"That's Sir William's order, not mine," she said firmly. "He wants to send my husband against his wishes and mine, he says it should go as quickly as possible and that's by clipper. A coffin will go as he wishes. Jamie, our ruse, I think our ruse is fair. As to the storm, it will be a little storm. If we can't bury my husband tonight, then we'll try tomorrow. Or the next day."
"The mail ship will sail tomorrow around noon."
"Could you delay her, in case?"
"I think so. I'll try." Jamie thought a moment. "I'll talk to the captain. What else?"
Angelique smiled, sadly. "First we have to see if Dr. Hoag was successful. If not
... perhaps I must go with the clipper after all."
"More than likely Hoag will come back with the cutter, then we can decide." Jamie added, not believing it, "Somehow it'll all work out. Don't worry."
"What about asking Edward Gornt to join us?" she asked.
"No," Jamie said. "The three of us are enough with Hoag. I've arranged berths on the mailship, for Hoag, you and I."
Skye said, "Angelique, it's much wiser for you to stay here. Everyone here knows Wee Willie made the decision against your wishes, and that takes some of the heat from you."
"If we cannot bury Malcolm, then I will go.
I must be at his funeral, have to." She sighed.
"We should have a captain for our venture.
Jamie, it should be you."
"I agree," Skye said. "Meanwhile, we wait for Hoag."
Jamie began to speak, stopped, then nodded and went to his own office. A big pile of mail waited for action. He began to deal with it, working diligently but his concentration was disturbed by his drawer. In it was Maureen's letter. At length he threw down his pen and took the letter out and re-read it. There was no need for he had read it twenty times before.
The key sentence was: As there has been no reply to my fervent requests and prayers that you return and take up a normal life at home, I have decided put my trust in our
Maker and venture to Hong Kong, or the
Japans, wherever you are. My beloved father has advanced us the money which he borrowed against a mortgage on our home in Glasgow--please leave word for me with Cook's in Hong Kong for
I sail tomorrow, a second-class berth, on the
Cunard Eastern Mail...
The letter was dated over two and a half months ago.
He groaned. She'll be in Hong Kong any day. My letter arrived too late. Now what do
I do? Grin? Hide? Flee to Macao like old
Aristotle Quance? Not on your life. It's my life and there's no way I can support a wife, want a wife... I can't just write the same letter again and have it meet her there. I'll have to--
A knock interrupted his thoughts. "Yes?" he bellowed.
Tentatively Vargas poked his head around the door. "Can I see you a moment, senhor?"
"Yes, what is it?" Jamie asked.
Vargas said distastefully, "There's a man here to see you, a Mr. Corniman--some name like that I think he said."
The name meant nothing to Jamie. Vargas opened the door a crack. The short, ferret-like man was strangely dressed, part in European clothes, part Japanese. Shirt, trousers and thick padded overcoat, clean-shaven, hair clean and tied in a queue, a knife at his belt and well-worn boots. Jamie did not recognize him but here strangers were often not what they seemed. On an impulse he said, "Come in, please sit down." Then he remembered the mail ship. "Vargas, ask Captain Biddy to stop by a moment will you. He should be in the Club.
Sit down, Mr. Corrniman, is it?"
"You's grog, mate?"
"Who are you and what do you want?"
"Johnny Cornishman, remember I seed you wiv' the tai-pan, me and my mate, Charlie
Yank, we's prospectors, right?"
"Prospectors? Oh yes, I remember you." Now the man was clean and tidy where before he had been a hairy, filthy, foul-smelling beachcomber. His malevolent, furtive little eyes had not changed. "We made you a deal but you went with Brock's," he said sharply, "you sold us out."
"Ay, that we did. We's biznessmen.
Norbert give us'n more brass, didn't he?
Forget him, he's dead. First, some grog, eh?
Then talks."
Jamie kept his interest hidden. A man like this did not come without pay dirt. He unlocked his sideboard and poured half a tumbler of rum.
"You've made a strike?"
The little man quaffed half the glass, choked and bared his gums, toothless but for two twisted brown teeth. "Grog's better'n sak`e, by God, but never mind, the little sheilas is making up for this' lack o' grog." He belched and grinned. "Just so long as you barf. Jesus they's pekulier about water and barfing, more'n in our Yoshiwara, but when you's barfed then they's waggles theys bums till Kingdom come!" He roared at his own joke, then said toughly, "We's got best quality steamer coal, tons, mate, 'nuff to coal our whole effing fleet. At half Hong
Kong price, this' ton."
"Where? Delivered where?" Jamie said, brightening. Steamer coal was extremely valuable and in short supply, especially for the fleet, and a local supplier would be a godsend as well as a constant source of revenue. At even twice
Hong Kong price he could sell all he could get, let alone half. "Delivered where?"
"'ere in Yokopoko, for Christ's sake, but sixpence a ton you's puts in't bank for
Johnny Cornishman." He gulped the rum down. "You's to pay in gold or silver Mex an' you's pay this bugger." He handed over a piece of paper. The bad printing read:
Yokohama Village, Shoya Ryoshi,
Gyokoyama merchant. "This sod know wot's wot, the ropes, knows wot to do. You's knows the bugger?"
"Yes, he's the village headman."
"Good. Me Guv sayed you'd know him."
"Who's your Guv?"
Cornishman grinned. "Lord 'igh Muck hiself. You's doan' need names. Doan' waste time. We's a deal, yes or no?"
After a moment Jamie said, "Where's the seam?"
"Me strike's me own, mate, not yorn."
The little man laughed nastily. "It be close but in enemy lands. Listen, me first seam's open, wiv a mountain of coal nearby an' a thousand of the yeller buggers to dig'n carry, 'nuff for twenty fleet for twenty year, by God."
"Why me? Why ask me to deal with you?"
"'cause Norbert's bloody dead an' you's bloody kingpin now the tai-pan's dead.
Yokopoko's proper bloody dangerous, eh?"
Cornishman held out the glass. "I's enjoy more grog, if you please, Mister godalmighty
Struan's."
Again Jamie poured and sat down again.
Cornishman noticed half the last measure and grunted. "Wot's this?"
"We'll pay a fifth of Hong Kong price, less customs, delivered here, first delivery in thirty days. No side deal."
The little man's eyes darted around the room like a rat's. "Any customs you's pay, mate.
Me side deal stays. Tell you wot: day after tomorrer you's send a coaling barge near
Yedo, where I says. Day after termorrer. We fills her up, you's to pay a fifth when full and brings her here to Yoko, you pays that geezer the rest, this' one of the paper. Sixpence a ton in bank in me name, Johnny Cornishman. Can't be fairer, eh? You get coal before you pay an' at half price Hong Kong."
"A fifth of Hong Kong price overall."
The little man's face twisted with anger. "At harf Hong Kong price you's making a big profit, for Christ's sake, the coal's here, not in effing Honkers. You's saves shipping,
'surance, and Christ knows what--we ain't chicken-shit bushwhackers, this's spectible trade!"
Jamie laughed. "Tell you what: first barge
I'll pay a third Hong Kong price. If the quality's what you say and you guarantee delivery a barge a week or whatever you can do,
I'll up it over the year to half Hong Kong less fifteen percent. Threepence a ton on the side to you. What about your partner, what was his name, Charlie Yank?"
"Sixpence or nuffink." Again the glance darted around the room and came back to rest on him, glittering. "He's dead like yor tai-pan but he didn't die like that lucky bugger."
"You'd better watch your tongue about our tai-pan."
"Go stuff yourself, mate. That were no disrespekt, we's all like to meet old Boney with a doxy chomping on our dingle." He finished his drink and got up. "Two days, at high noon.
Pick up be here." He offered a small hand-drawn map. The X was on the coast a few miles north of Kanagawa, south of Yedo proper. "You's brings tenders, we gives labor."
"Can't do two days, that's a Sunday. Make it Monday."
"'course, Lord's day's the Lord's day.
Three day."
Ja
mie studied the map. An unprotected coal barge, with tenders and crew might be a tempting bushwhack. "As the barge would be naval, and the coal for the Navy, I imagine they'll send a frigate to stand offshore."
