Gai-Jin

by James Clavell

  “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 saké, by God, but never mind, the little sheilas is making up for th’ 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 eff’ing fleet. At half Hong Kong price, th’ 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 hisself. 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, th’ 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 eff’ing 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 days.”

  Jamie 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.”

  “They’s can send the whole eff’ing fleet for all I cares.” Cornishman tried to be dignified. “I’s made a bonzer strike an’ we’s proper, by God, very proper.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “It be sixpence a ton or nuffink!”

  “Fourpence.”

  Cornishman spat. “Sixpence, by God, I’s knows worth of coal, and worth to eff’ing fleet, an’ wot you’s can make off ’em. Maybe I’s deal direct.”

  “You could try,” Jamie said, gambling. “Tell you what, fourpence first ten barges, rest sixpence.”

  The little man glowered at him. “Now I’s knows why you’s Noble bloody House.” He stuck out his hand, rough and horny. “Yor word as Struan’s gent.” They shook. Then he said, “Oh yus, you’s any mercury?”

  Jamie’s attention soared back. Mercury would be used in the extraction of gold. “Yes. How much do you need?”

  “Not a lot for starters. You’s put it on the tab?”

  “All right. You’re staying at the Yokohama Arms?”

  “Not eff’ing likely—no Drunk Town for me,” Cornishman said with a sneer. “I’s on me way back right smartly, an’ you’s to keep supply secret, deal secret, no names, no pack drill—I’s wanting no bleeding bushwhackers jumping me claim.” He started to leave.

  “Wait! Where are you going? How do I contact you?”

  “I’s going back to me claim, mate.” Again he bared his gums in his evil smile. “Me samurais and me palanquin’s outside th’ North Gate, I snuck in private-like. Next time I’s come back, I’s come back as gent, no eff’ing Drunk Town no more. An’ you’s doan’ contact me no more, you go’s to the geezer. I’s ’spektible trader now and doan’ you’s forget it. Put mercury on’t barge.” He walked out.

  For a long time Jamie stared at the walls, sifting what had been said. A reliable coal supply would be wonderful but bound to vanish when the fleet flattened Yedo. And why mercury? Has that rotten bugger hit real pay dirt? And who’s the real boss? Come to think of it, who’s mine?

  Tess until the end of the month. How much loyalty do I owe her? All of it. Till the end of the month.

  Rain battered the window. He got up and looked around the bay critically. The sea was a dirtier grey than before, the sky lowering. No doubt the storm would be bad for the cutter but not for a ship. Ah, there she is!

  Their cutter was a couple of hundred yards or so off their wharf, making way carefully against the waves, shipping some water but not badly, spray from the bow wave substantial, the Struan flag at half-mast—as the flag above their building had been since the death of the tai-pan. His binoculars were on the window ledge. Now he could see Hoag and Pallidar clearly in the cabin, the flag-draped coffin lashed securely to one
of the benches as he had ordered. A twinge went through him seeing the entwined Lion and Dragon around Malcolm’s coffin—a sight he had never expected to see. Then he remembered that it was not his friend’s coffin but some unknown native, at least he hoped so.

  “Vargas!”

  “Yes, senhor.”

  “Take this lot of mail, copy it and seal it—I’ll deal with the rest this afternoon. I’ll be back later.”

  “Captain Biddy wasn’t in the Club but expected, senhor. I left a message.”

  “Thanks.” Unhurried, he put on his coat and hat and went out, leant against the rain-filled wind. He was almost alone on the High Street. At the North Gate, Cornishman was nowhere to be seen. A few samurai guards huddled in the lee of their Customs House. Some traders were scuttling for the Club and a late tiffin. A few waved. One of them stopped and urinated in the gutter. South Drunk Town seemed even more squalid under the overcast. This’s no place for a woman, he thought.

  “Ahoy, Jamie!” Hoag called from the cutter.

  “Hello, Doc. Hello, Settry.” They clambered onto the rough, tarred planks, the piling timbers sunk deep in the seabed, creaking with the thrust of the waves. One look at Hoag was enough to know that the switch had been successful, however much the squat man pretended nonchalance. So we’re committed, he thought. Pallidar was having a coughing fit. “Settry, you’d better get that fixed before it turns into something worse.”

  “It already has,” Pallidar said sourly. “This so-called doctor gave me a potion that’s bound to kill me. Doc,” he said, coughing again, “if it does, when it does, the hell with you.”

  Hoag laughed. “A double-strength toddy and you’ll be right as rain tomorrow. Jamie, everything’s all right?”

  “Yes.”

  Pallidar said, “I’m turning responsibility of the coffin over to you, Jamie. It goes aboard Cloud at once?”

  “About half an hour. Angelique wanted to … to say good-bye. Reverend Tweet will add a few words.”

  “Then she’s definitely not going by the clipper?”

  “I don’t know, Settry, not positively. Last I heard she was going by the mail ship, but you know how women are.”

  “Don’t blame her. Going back aboard the clipper would give me the creeps too.” Pallidar blew his nose and huddled deeper into his greatcoat. “If you want I’ll get Sir William to send the coffin by mail ship, then they’d arrive together.”

  “No,” Hoag said, too quickly for Jamie, then recovered, “no, Settry old boy, I wouldn’t recommend that, medically. Best leave arrangements as they are, coffin by Prancing Cloud. Angelique’s all right now but a sudden shock could shove her back into a nightmare. Better she goes by mail ship and the coffin by clipper.”

  “Just as you want. Jamie, I’m recommending to William we shut down Kanagawa at once—that’s why I came back.”

  “Christ Almighty, why?”

  Pallidar told him about the patrols and numerous samurai around. “Not to worry. We can blow ’em all to hell. Mind, if I have the cutter take me back, it’d save me time.”

  “Why not go with her to Prancing Cloud, and she can take you direct after that. Are you overnighting at Kanagawa?”

  “No, I’ve seen enough and just have to get my lads,” Pallidar said to their relief. “The clerks and guards can evacuate over the next few days. See you later.” He walked off, coughing.

  Before he was hardly out of hearing distance Hoag said, “It went perfectly, Jamie.”

  “Not now, for Christ’s sake.” In spite of the cold and wet Jamie was sweating. He led the way back to the High Street to the lee of a bungalow, safe from other ears. “What happened?”

  “It worked like a charm. This morning as soon as the cutter arrived we went to the morgue an—”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Settry, Sergeant Towery, the Bosun and two crew. We draped and secured the flag to the coffin and they put it aboard the cutter. The other one is waiting for us tonight or whenever—supposedly waiting for cremation.” Hoag peered seawards, against the rain. “No chance tonight, eh?”

  “No. But it’ll blow itself out by morning. I think.”

  “Good.” Hoag rubbed his hands against the cold. “Everything worked like a dream. One small problem, the native was tiny, just skin and bones so I packed his coffin with earth to make up the difference in their weights.”

  “God Almighty, of course! I’d forgotten about that. That was clever.”

  “Did that last night, no trouble—no one said a thing when they put the coffin aboard the cutter, not a sausage.”

  “My God, this is all so dicey,” Jamie said uneasily. “How are we going to get the other coffin out of the Legation with the clerks and soldiers there?”

  “Already taken care of that.” Hoag chortled. “I told our Japanese assistants to put it in the shed by our Kanagawa jetty, it’s not far from the crematorium. They can do it without arousing any suspicion. George told me he puts coffins and bodies there when he has an overload. It’s routine.”

  “Marvelous! How far is it from the jetty?”

  “Fifty yards or so. Three of us can carry it easily and we’ll have the Bosun, won’t we?”

  “Yes. You’ve done damn well. Damn well.” Jamie squinted into the rain. “Pity we couldn’t do it tonight and finish it.”

  “Never mind. Tomorrow will be fine.” Hoag was very confident and pleased with Jamie’s praise. No need to tell about being spotted and about Pallidar. This morning they had had breakfast together and when he said: “Settry, about last night …” Pallidar had interrupted him: “Forget it, just forget it, Doctor, that’s the best thing for you to do.”

  That is best, he thought, beaming, forget it ever happened. “Shall we fetch Angelique? How is she?”

  Within the hour they had reassembled beside the cutter. The rain was heavier and the wind squalling. Spray came over part of the jetty. The cutter, well moored, dipped and fell with the waves, ropes creaking. Angelique wore black, a black cloak raincoat over her dyed black dress, black hat with a heavy black veil, and an umbrella. The umbrella was sky-blue, a startling contrast.

  Surrounding her were Jamie, Skye, Dmitri, Tyrer, Sir William and other Ministers, Captain Strongbow, Gornt, Marlowe, Pallidar, Vargas, André, Seratard, the Reverend Tweet and many others, all bundled against the rain. In the background Father Leo stood bleakly, hands in his sleeves, peering out from under his cowl. Jamie had invited Tweet to say a blessing: “It would be odd if we didn’t, Angelique. I’ll make sure there’s no real service, or speeches, that wouldn’t be correct, just a blessing.”

  The inclement weather helped to make the blessing brief. For once, Tweet was curiously eloquent. When he finished, self-consciously they all looked at her. Overhead, gulls cawed as the wind swirled them past, riding the currents joyously. Sir William said, “Again, Madame, my deepest condolences.”

  “Thank you.” She stood straight, rain spattering off her umbrella. “I protest that I am not allowed to bury my husband openly as he and I wish.”

  “Your protest is noted, Madame.” Sir William raised his hat. The rest filed past, saying their condolences and raising their hats or saluting if in uniform. Strongbow saluted and stepped into the cutter, Pallidar boarded after him as Marlowe stopped in front of her, still upset. “I’m so terribly sorry,” he said, saluting, and walked off.

  Father Leo was last. Somberly he made the sign of the cross, saying the Latin words, his face mostly hidden.

  “But he’s not Catholic, Father,” she said gently.

  “I think he was one of us, senhora, in his heart.” Father Leo’s accent was thickened with grief, his night spent in prayer, asking what should he do, should he attend or not. “He would have seen the Light, you would have helped him, I’m sure of it. In nomine Patris …”

  Unhappily he ambled away. Now only Jamie, Hoag and Skye stood with her on the jetty. “What now, Jamie?” she asked, a deep melancholy swooping over her.

  “We wait a min
ute,” he said.

  Like the others he was feeling that he was part of a cheat, at the same time deeply moved and not a cheat. This is just to help a friend, he told himself. You promised to guard his tail, and hers. That’s what you’re doing. Yes, but it’s cheating and I hate it. Forget that, you’re their leader, act like one. “Captain Strongbow, cast off! Godspeed!”

  “Aye, aye, sir, thank you.” The cutter eased away, dipping in the troughs, then picked up speed. Sea gulls mewed in her wake. They watched her go.

  “It feels so odd,” she murmured, weeping silently. “It is, and it isn’t. We’re not wrong, are we? Are we?”

  Again Jamie made the decision for all of them. “No,” he said, and took her arm and walked her home.

  Just before sunset, Vargas knocked on the tai-pan’s office door. “Mr. Gornt to see you, senhora. Monsieur André left a message that Monsieur Seratard would be honored if you would dine with him.”

  “Thank them but say no, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps. Hello, Edward. Come in.” Again she sat in an easy chair by the windows, the day dark and rainy. A white wine was opened and waiting in ice. One fine glass was upended in the ice and chilling. “Please help yourself, you’re boarding now?”

  “Yes, the tender’s ready. Your health, Ma’am.”

  “And yours. Are you the only passenger?”

  “I don’t know.” He hesitated. “You look wonderful, ethereal, and unobtainable, Ma’am.”

  “I will be sorry to see you go. Perhaps everything will be better when you return,” she said, liking him as before. “Will you come back or first go to Shanghai?”

  “I’ll know better in Hong Kong. Where will you be staying? On the Peak in the Struan Great House?”