Tai-Pan

by James Clavell

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. You can be sure of my interest.” He bowed slightly. “Perhaps, at your convenience, I might be allowed to kowtow and pay my respects to the Lady T’chung. And the children. I haven’t seen them for many months.”

  “Of course, Gordon,” Struan said. “Come tomorrow at noon. Why not start weekly lessons again? I think it would be good for her.”

  “I would enjoy that. And talking with the children.” Gordon withdrew two more scrolls from his sleeve. “I have the accounts for last month on our private arrangement. Would you like to go over the figures?”

  “Aye.”

  Gordon opened the scrolls. One was written in characters, the other in English. “I’m happy to report, Tai-Pan, that based on an initial investment of ten thousand dollars we have a joint profit of six thousand and fifty-eight dollars and forty-two cents.”

  Struan’s eyes widened. “That’s quite a profit for one month’s trading.”

  “I am rather proud too. Our investments in land are excellent, also. They promise great profit.”

  “But you did na buy any land.”

  “Not at your land sale. But, er, I’ve been buying parcels in the Tai Ping Shan settlement. They were approved by the, er, Land Office last week. And we own substantial lots around the village of Aberdeen and Deepwater Bay.”

  “But they have na been offered for sale yet.”

  “These are, er, locally held lands, Tai-Pan. Ancient rights. I’ve bought up all the deeds that exist, at least all that I’ve found to exist this far.”

  “But they’re na legal, lad. All land’s invested in the Crown.”

  “Yes. But of course some arrangement would have to be made to, er, compensate the local village. It’s been here for years, and, well, the Crown is magnanimous.” His eyes were guileless. “Mr. Culum seemed to think that His Excellency would look favorably on deeds that are, er, ‘validated’ I think is the word, by the village elders.”

  I wonder how much of the “deeded” land does na belong to village or man and never has, Struan asked himself. “All ‘our’ deeds are ‘validated’?”

  “Oh absolutely, Tai-Pan. Very carefully. Otherwise they would be quite valueless, wouldn’t they?” Gordon smiled. “Our holdings are in the names of, er, our various ‘appointees,’ and we do not, naturally, hold any land openly. Only the prime deed. The other subdeed and sub-sub and sub-sub-subdeeds can be subject to the closest scrutiny. I have been suitably cautious.”

  “I’d say there’s a great future for you in business, Gordon.” He went through the balance sheet thoroughly. “What’s this item? Two thousand nine hundred and seventy-eight dollars?”

  “Rents from our property in Tai Ping Shan.”

  “You’ve made a mistake. According to your dates, this account covers a rent period of two months and you’ve only owned the land for one month.”

  “Well, Tai-Pan, as soon as the Chinese began to settle on our land in Tai Ping Shan, I began to charge them a service rent. That we didn’t actually acquire the land for one month afterward is not their worry. Is it?”

  “Nay. Except that that’s fraud.”

  “Oh no, sir. Not according to the facts. The incoming tenant of course wanted the best land available to rent. We took a down payment—giving him the use of the land in advance in good faith. He was happy because he was paying ‘rent,’ for of course everyone has to pay rent. This amount is really a charge for service. I went to a great deal of risk to perform the service for them. If I hadn’t managed to buy the lot and thus give them the benefit of a long lease, why, surely they would have fallen into the hands of usurers, thieves and brigands.”

  Struan grunted. “What do you plan to do with the rest of the money?”

  “If I may ask your patience, I would like to leave that to next month. I will continue to draw on the credit you were kind enough to arrange for me, but with great caution.”

  Struan rolled up the scroll and handed it back.

  “Oh no, Tai-Pan. That’s your copy.”

  “Very well.”

  Struan thought a moment; then he said delicately, “I’ve heard that Chinese are accustomed to borrowing monies at very high rates of interest. I trust that none of our investments will be so used.” His eyes fixed on Gordon’s. There was a long silence. “Usury is bad business.”

  “The lending of money is very important business.”

  “At reasonable rates of interest.”

  Gordon toyed with the end of his queue. “One percent under the usual?”

  “Two.”

  “One and a half would be very, very fair.”

  “Aye. Very fair. You’re a clever businessman, Gordon. Perhaps next year I might improve the limit of credit.”

  “I will endeavor to make a superb profit against your decision.”

  “I’d wager you will too, Gordon,” Struan said. He glanced out the tent door and was surprised to see that the marine master-at-arms was hurrying toward them.

  “Mr. Struan?” The master-at-arms saluted crisply. “His Excellency’s compliments, will you join him on the flagship right smartly.”

  Struan looked at his watch. He was not late, but he said nothing other than “Of course.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Longstaff had his back to the door and was staring out the main cabin windows at the mail packet. Struan noticed that the dining table was set for four. On the desk were many official dispatches. “Morning, Will.”

  “Hello, Dirk.” Longstaff turned and stuck out his hand, and Struan saw that he looked younger than he had for months. “Well, this is curious, isn’t it?”

  “What?” Struan asked, knowing that it must be the Russian. But he let Longstaff have the pleasure of telling him. Too, he wanted to hear Longstaff’s evaluation, for though Longstaff was out of his depth in Asia and useless as Captain Superintendent of Trade, Struan knew Longstaff’s views on European diplomatic affairs to be incisive and extremely knowledgeable.

  Ever since Struan had settled the immediate problem of Aristotle and had seen Robb take him aboard safely, he had puzzled over the reason for the Russian’s arrival. He found it strangely unsettling but did not know why.

  “You won’t have heard yet, but we’ve an uninvited guest.”

  “Oh, who?”

  “An archduke, no less. A Russian archduke, Alexi Zergeyev. He came on the mail packet.”

  Struan was suitably impressed. “Why should we be ‘honored’ here in Asia?”

  “Why, indeed?” Longstaff rubbed his hands together happily. “He’s joining us for lunch. Clive’s escorting him.”

  Clive Monsey was Longstaff’s deputy captain superintendent of trade, a civil servant by profession and, like Longstaff, a Foreign Office appointee. Normally Monsey’s duties kept him at Macao, where Longstaff maintained his permanent headquarters.

  “There are some interesting dispatches too,” Longstaff was saying, and Struan’s interest heightened. He knew that none would contain the formal approval of the Treaty of Chuenpi and the appointment of Longstaff as the first governor of the Colony of Hong Kong, because the news of the successful conclusion of the war would just be reaching England.

  Struan accepted the sherry. “The Middle East?” he asked and held his breath.

  “Yes. The crisis is over, thank God! France accepted the Foreign Secretary’s settlement, and there’s no longer any fear of general war. The Turkish sultan’s so grateful for our support that he’s signed a commercial treaty with us canceling all Turkish trade monopolies, throwing open the whole Ottoman Empire to British trade.”

  Struan let out a yell. “By all that’s holy! That’s the best news we’ve had in many a long day!”

  “I thought you’d be pleased,” Longstaff said.

  The longstanding crisis had to do with the Dardanelles, the strait that was controlled by the Turkish Ottoman Empire. It was the key to Mediterranean Europe and a perpetual casus belli among the Great Powers-Britain, France, Russ
ia, Austro-Hungary, and Prussia—because the Dardanelles was a shortcut for Russian warships to enter the vital Mediterranean, and also for warships of other nations to enter the Black Sea and threaten the weak underbelly of Russia. Eight years ago Russia had compelled Turkey to sign a treaty which gave Russia joint suzerainty over the Dardanelles, and international tension had been acute ever since. Then, three years ago, Mehemet Ali, the French-supported upstart soldier-pasha of Egypt, had launched an attack on Constantinople, proclaiming himself Caliph of the Ottoman Empire. France openly and delightedly had supported him against the sultan. But a French ally athwart the Dardanelles would imperil the interests of the remaining Great Powers, and the whole of Europe promised to be immediately involved in open conflict again.

  The British Foreign Secretary, Lord Cunnington, had persuaded the Great Powers—other than France, and without consulting her—to use their influence on the side of the sultan against Mehemet Ali. France was furious and had threatened war. The settlement proposed was that Mehemet Ali was to withdraw to Egypt; that he would be given suzerainty over Syria for his lifetime; that he was confirmed as the independent ruler of Egypt; that he should pay only a nominal annual tribute to the Turkish sultan; and that, most important, the ancient rule of the Dardanelles strait was to be guaranteed by all the Powers once and for all: that while Turkey was at peace the strait was forbidden to all warships of all nations.

  That France had accepted the proposed settlement and the withdrawal of her Egyptian ally meant riches to The Noble House. Now the complex financial arrangements on which Robb and Struan had gambled so heavily for two years would be cemented. Their commercial power would extend through financial tentacles into the hearts of all the Great Powers, thus giving them the safety to weather continuous international crisis and to open huge new tea and silk markets. Furthermore, if British interest now dominated the Ottoman Empire, perhaps its opium production would be stopped. Without Turkish opium to balance their outpouring of bullion, the American companies would have to increase trade with Britain, and the closer ties that Struan wanted with America would come to pass. Aye, Struan told himself happily, this is a very good day. He was mystified that Longstaff had received the official news before he had; Struan’s informants in Parliament usually advised him of important disclosures like this well in advance. “That’s excellent,” he said.

  “There’ll be peace for a long time now. So long as France doesn’t try any more tricks.”

  “Or Austria-Hungary. Or Prussia. Or Russia.”

  “Yes. Which brings us to Zergeyev. Why should a very important Russian come to Asia at this time? And how is it we had no official or unofficial warning, eh? When we control all sea-lanes east of Africa?”

  “Perhaps he’s just making a state visit to Russian Alaska, and came out via the Cape of Good Hope.”

  “I’ll wager a hundred guineas that’s what he says,” Longstaff said. He settled himself comfortably in a chair and put his feet on the table. “Zergeyev is an important name in St. Petersburg. I lived there for five years when I was a boy—my father was a diplomat to the court of the tsars. Tyrants, all of them. The present one, Nicholas I, is typical.”

  “Zergeyev is important in what way?” Struan asked, surprised that Longstaff had never mentioned St. Petersburg in all the years he had known him.

  “Huge landowners. Related to the tsar. They ‘own’ tens of thousands of serfs and hundreds of villages, so I seem to remember. I recall my father saying that Prince Zergeyev—it must be the same family—was privy to the inner court of the tsar and one of the most powerful men in the Russias. Curious to find one here of all places, what?”

  “You think Russia’s going to try to interfere in Asia?”

  “I’d say this man’s too convenient to be a coincidence. Now that the status quo is restored in the Middle East, and the Dardanelles settled, up pops an archduke!”

  “You think there’s a connection?”

  Longstaff laughed gently. “Well, the Middle East settlement neatly stops Russian advances westward, but she can afford to sit back and wait. France is spoiling for a fight and so is Prussia. That Austro-Hungarian devil Metternich is in trouble dominating their Italian possessions, and furious with France and Britain for assisting the Belgians to form their own nation at the expense of the Dutch. There’s going to be big trouble between Britain and France over the Spanish succession—the Spanish queen’s twelve, and soon she’ll be given in marriage. Louis Philippe wants his appointee as her husband, but we can’t afford a joining of the thrones of France and Spain. Prussia wants to extend its domination of Europe, which historically France has always considered her exclusive and divine right. Oh yes,” he added with a smile, “Russia can afford to wait. When the Ottoman Empire breaks up, she’ll calmly take all the Balkans—Romania, Bulgaria, Bessarabia, Serbia—and as much of the Austro-Hungarian Empire as she can gobble up as well. Of course we can’t let her, so there’ll be a general war, unless she accepts a reasonable settlement. So, from Russia’s point of view, Europe is no danger at present. Russia’s been blocked effectively, but that doesn’t matter. Her historical policy has always been to conquer by guile—to bribe the leaders of a country, and the leaders of the opposition, if any. To extend by ‘sphere of influence’ and not by war, then to obliterate the leaders and digest the people. When there’s no threat from the west, I’d think her eyes would turn eastward. For she too believes she has a divine position on earth, that she too—like France and Prussia—has a God-given mission to rule the world. Eastward no Great Power stands between her and the Pacific.”

  “Except China.”

  “And we know, you and I, that China is weak and helpless. That’s not to our advantage, is it? To have China weak and Russia very strong, perhaps controlling China?”

  “No,” Struan said. “Then she could strangle us at will. And India.”

  The two men fell silent, each lost in his own thoughts.

  “But why send an important man here?” Struan asked.

  “To test us. The answer’s clear historically. Russia’s a sower of seeds of discontent, and she always will be until she finds what, in her opinion, are her natural borders. She borders Turkey—there’s trouble in Turkey. She borders India—there’s trouble there. She borders China—at least, so far as we know—so there has to be trouble there. Zergeyev’s here to probe our success. The weaker he thinks China is, the more reason for them to hurry their expansion eastward. So we have to try to neutralize him, throw him off the scent, make him think that China is very strong. I’ll need all the help you can give me. Could we invite him to the ball this evening?”

  “Of course.”

  “We’ve got to indicate, in any event, that China is Her Majesty’s private sphere of influence—that Her Majesty’s Government will brook no interference here.”

  Struan’s mind jumped ahead rapidly. The more the Crown was involved in Asia, the more it helped the basic plan—to bring China into the family of nations as a Great Power. The stronger China was, English-trained and assisted, the better for the world in general. Aye. And we canna afford despotic Russian interference when we’re on the threshold of success.

  There was a knock on the door, and Clive Monsey appeared in the doorway. He was a thin man in his middle forties, quiet, unassuming, with scant hair and a huge bulbous nose.

  “Your Excellency,” he said, “may I present His Highness Archduke Alexi Zergeyev?”

  Longstaff and Struan rose. Longstaff went toward the archduke and said, in perfect Russian, “I’m delighted to meet you, Your Highness. Please come in and sit down. Did you have a pleasant voyage?”

  “Perfect, Your Excellency,” Zergeyev replied, unsurprised, and he shook the extended hand, bowing slightly with perfect grace. “It’s too kind of you to invite me to lunch when I’ve not had the good manners to acquaint you of my arrival. And particularly as my visit is unofficial and unplanned.”

  “It’s our good fortune, Your Highness.”

/>   “I was hoping that you would be the son of the esteemed friend of Russia, Sir Robert. This is a most fortunate coincidence.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Longstaff said dryly. “And how is your father the prince?” he asked, gambling on a hunch.

  “In good health, I’m pleased to say. And yours?”

  “He died a few years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. But your mother, the Lady Longstaff?”

  “In perfect health, I’m happy to say.”

  Struan was inspecting the Russian. Zergeyev was a fine, tall man impeccably and richly dressed. He was broad-shouldered and narrow hipped. High cheekbones and curious, slightly blue eyes gave his face an exotic cast. The dress sword at his belt under his opened frock coat seemed to belong there. Around his neck, below his pure white cravat, was a discreet decoration of some order on a thin scarlet ribbon. No man to pick a quarrel with, Struan thought. I’d wager he’s a devil with a sword and a demon if his ‘honor’ is touched.

  “May I present Mr. Dirk Struan?” Longstaff said in English.

  The archduke put out his hand, smiled and added in English with only the trace of an accent, “Ah, Mr. Struan, it is my pleasure.”