Band of Gold (18 page)

‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I am looking for an address on Celestial Avenue. I wonder if you could tell me how to get there?’

The man appeared to consider the request. Then he spoke. ‘Who is it that you are looking for, may I ask?’ His English was very good.

‘I have business with a man named Wong Kai.’ The man’s face remained impassive, but an unguarded spark of interest—and unease?—flared in his eyes. ‘Do you know him?’ Kitty asked.

‘I know
of
him.’

Kitty suspected he was obfuscating. ‘I have been told that he resides on Celestial Avenue, although I have not been given the exact location of his residence.’ She withdrew Wong Fu’s letter from her reticule. ‘I have a letter of introduction from his brother. Perhaps this may help you to decide whether you wish to assist me?’

The storekeeper seemed to be engaged in some sort of internal debate. Finally, he said, ‘This is not my business, Mrs, er…’

‘Mrs Farrell.’

‘…Mrs Farrell, and I do not know what
your
business is with Wong Kai, but I do know him. I know him well and I warn you that he is not a man with whom you should involve yourself. He is a powerful man and—’

‘Yes,’ Kitty interrupted, ‘but I am here on family business, among other things, and I’m sure he will want to see me.’

‘He is a family man, I agree, but I fear you may not be as welcome as you seem to believe you will be.’

Kitty was getting sick of this. ‘Look, Mr…Shopkeeper,’ she said, moving closer to the counter and making the most of the fact that she was taller than he was.

‘I am Wu Chun-Kit,’ he said tartly.

‘Mr Wu, I have Wong Kai’s niece with me and I need to deliver her to him. She is not well. I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but I would like your help to find him. Can you oblige me or will I have to go somewhere else?’

Mr Wu took a moment to adjust his shirt cuffs, and Kitty could see that he had been somewhat startled by her outburst. ‘Mrs Farrell, I will be blunt. I have to say that I admire you, and for that reason I will help you. Your character and fortitude seem to be fashioned from some material that is not common to most European women. But it is not your welfare about which I am concerned: it is
mine
. Wong Kai is a business associate, but he is also…what is the appropriate English word? The
overlord
of the Chinese quarter. I will not endanger my business, or indeed my own health,’ he added with unexpected dryness, ‘just to fulfil your request.’ He wrote something on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. ‘So please do not say where you came by this information. Celestial Avenue is the second lane on your left.’

Kitty read the address on the paper, memorised it and gave it back. ‘Thank you, Mr Wu. I am most grateful.’

Mr Wu bowed. ‘Good luck, Mrs Farrell,’ he said, and allowed her a small smile, but behind it Kitty saw a ghost of real fear.

H
aunui and Daniel picked their way across the cracked, barren flats bordering the Yarra, trying not to turn their ankles on the treacherous clods the sun had made of the winter’s mud. Down here it stank almost more than it did in the town—the shit, animal carcasses and unnameable scum collecting along the river’s edge testifying to the reason. There were perhaps a hundred vessels at anchorage, and Haunui and Daniel made a game of guessing their ports of origin as they tottered along, swearing energetically, until they came to the wharf at which the
Katipo II
was moored, a short distance below the falls. She was off her hull now, and standing proud against a backdrop of dozens of other masts and furled sails. Their boots on solid boards, they clomped out over the evil-smelling water and boarded the schooner, Daniel calling out as they did so.

Charlie Dunlop appeared from below a minute later, sucking on a pipe and drinking something the colour of crude oil from a mug.

Haunui sniffed the air suspiciously, but it didn’t smell like rum.

Charlie Dunlop’s empty left sleeve was neatly pinned just below the shoulder. A seaman himself, he had lost his arm to a shark off Fiji, and it had broken his heart not to be able to return to the life he loved. Hanging around ships in port was the next best thing.

‘Coffee?’ he offered, raising his mug.

Daniel declined, and introduced Haunui.

‘Aye, I met fellows like you in New Zealand. And in Hawaii and the Marquesas. You related?’

‘In the past.’

‘How’s the prospectin’ going? Made your fortune yet?’ Charlie asked Daniel.

‘We’re doing all right.’

‘Thought about giving it a go meself, but, well…’ Charlie waggled his stump, then emptied the dregs of his coffee over the side of the schooner. ‘You’ll be wanting to have a look around. Thinking of going back to sea, are you? I’d give my right arm to go with you.’ He laughed uproariously at his own joke, although it was obviously one he’d told many times. Glancing at the splint on Daniel’s forearm, he added, ‘What a pair of cripples, eh? What did you do? Get caught up in the stoush at Eureka?’

‘Fell down a mine shaft,’ Daniel confessed sheepishly.

‘Well, at least you’ll get yours back. Come below and have a look at what they’ve done with the cabin. Nothing flash, mind, but it’s exactly what Captain Farrell asked for, all nice and new. And that Frenchie fellow that does the cooking, he’ll be pleased with his new galley.’

‘Cajun,’ Haunui corrected.

‘Eh?’

‘He’s Cajun, not French.’

They had a good look around, and the ship’s fitters had indeed done a fine job. Back on deck, Daniel inspected the repair work and the new masts, and the coils of bristly, fresh rope.

‘Sails shouldn’t be far away,’ Charlie said. ‘Sailmaker said he could
salvage a few, but that they were all mostly on their last legs. Said it’s a wonder you actually got to Melbourne.’

Daniel nodded. ‘When does he think they’ll be ready?’

‘Another month? A few navy ships are in and wanting work, and they pay better, of course. And he says he don’t do ensigns, so you’ll have to get your own.’

‘Can you send us a message when they’ve been fitted?’

‘I can,’ Charlie said agreeably.

Daniel thanked him, gave him the money Rian had sent, and he and Haunui trudged back to town, Daniel holding his splinted arm against his belly to ease the ache.

‘Rian’ll be pleased,’ he remarked.

Haunui decided that now was as good a time as any. Without turning his head, he said, ‘He won’t be if you keep on saying silly things to his wife.’

Daniel’s pace faltered, but he kept walking. He didn’t say anything for almost a minute; then, ‘Who told you? Kitty?’

‘No, Simon.’ Haunui glanced at Daniel out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction, but saw only a resigned acceptance. ‘He wasn’t telling tales. He’s worried, eh? For Kitty and for Rian. And for you.’

‘I was drunk, I didn’t mean to say it.’

‘Ae, I know you didn’t
mean
to say it, but you did. And Rian could have heard you. He would have had your balls for ear pendants. And, boy? How do you think it made Kitty feel, eh?’

Daniel blew out his cheeks, lifted his hat and swept his hair back off his face. ‘I know, I’ve been thinking about it and I feel like a shit. I’ve never said anything like that before. I’ve always, well, I’ve never said anything at all.’

‘Ae, I know. Simon said.’ They’d come to a public house, and Haunui stopped and gestured at the door. Daniel nodded and they went inside, waiting for a moment while their eyes adjusted to the gloom.

They each bought a pint of ale and sat down. ‘It’s been ten years, boy,’ Haunui said, as though there hadn’t been a break in the conversation. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing is ever going to come between those two. Certainly not you.’ He knew he was being blunt, and that Daniel wouldn’t appreciate hearing it, but it was probably better for the lad coming from someone he didn’t know particularly well.

‘Look, I know that,’ Daniel said, his mood fraying slightly now, although Haunui sensed that the anger was only masking a bone-deep hopelessness. ‘And, well, there’s nothing else to be said, is there?’

‘Not really.’

‘No.’

Haunui took a long draught of his ale, then stifled a burp. ‘Good, ’cause you can’t have her, boy, and that’s that.’

Daniel stared stonily into his drink; Haunui knew exactly how he felt.

Kitty rapped on the door and waited. After more than a minute, a small slot opened and a pair of dark, suspicious eyes peered out at her.

‘Good morning, I’m looking for Wong Kai,’ she said. ‘Is he here, please?’

The eyes stared for a second, then the slot snapped shut.

Damn, Kitty thought. But she waited.

The slot opened again and the eyes reappeared. ‘Who is speaking?’

‘My name is Mrs Kitty Farrell. I am here on business relating to Mr Wong’s family. I have a letter from his brother, Wong Fu.’

The slot closed again.

Kitty crossed her arms and looked around. Celestial Avenue, which came off Little Bourke Street, was a very narrow lane not even wide enough for a cart to enter. It sliced between wooden buildings that stood two and three storeys high and barely allowed the sun
to reach the ground. Where it did, several skinny dogs sunned themselves in the dust. The doors that opened off it were featureless, and the windows, some glazed and some shuttered, unwelcoming. The distinctly pungent smell of dried fish lingered in the air.

The door opened to reveal a man in tunic and trousers, and an embroidered skullcap. ‘He says he will see you for five minutes.’ He stepped aside, which Kitty took as a signal to enter.

Immediately in front of the door was a steep set of stairs. The man went up first, his slippers making a whispering sound on the bare wooden treads. Behind them, the door swung shut, closing out most of the light. At the top a dimly lit hall stretched ahead of them, its closed doors leaking muffled sounds as they passed. But one room was open, revealing two large tables occupied by Chinese men intent on, at one, the counters and bowl of
fan tan
and, at the other, the character-covered paper tickets of
pakapoo
. Several glanced up as she passed, perhaps startled to see a European woman in their midst, but most were too preoccupied with their gambling to notice her.

The man led Kitty to the end of the hall to another closed door; the air was laced now with a musty, sweet smell, and Kitty thought she knew what would be behind it. When the door opened, he took Kitty’s elbow and escorted her inside.

She had never been in an opium den before. Rian had, in Shanghai, and she suspected that some of the crew had as well, and not just on business, but Rian had never allowed her to visit one. She imagined he would be rather cross if he knew she was here now. Perhaps she just wouldn’t tell him.

There was one small window, draped with a fall of red cloth, in the comparatively large room, and two lamps on the wall, but no other light. Six wide divans lined the space, each occupied by two people. They lay propped on large cushions, a tray of opium-smoking paraphernalia between them. Some slept; some chatted in quiet, relaxed tones. The only reaction to her presence seemed to be mildly
curious glances. The room was clean, the carpet of good quality, and the linens on the divans appeared fresh. The air was thick with smoke and Kitty fancied she felt it going straight to her head. If Mr Wong was on one of the divans, she didn’t think they would be having much of a conversation.

‘This way,’ her escort urged, and led her through yet another door concealed behind a wall-hanging.

In this next room, the air was much less redolent of opium. Wong Kai—and it surely must be him, as the resemblance to Wong Fu was very strong—sat in a velvet-upholstered, high-backed chair, buffing his fingernails. His long robe was of deep blue silk, and his hair hung unbraided down his back. He was clean-shaven and Kitty thought he looked remarkably benign for a man with such a fearsome reputation. To one side was a desk piled high with what appeared to be invoices and receipts and various ledger books, and an abacus.

Wong Kai gave his thumbnail a final, careful pass with the buffer and looked up. ‘Ah, thank you, So-Yee. You may go now. Mrs Kitty Farrell, I presume?’

‘Yes. I am pleased to meet you, Mr Wong,’ Kitty replied, hoping it was indeed him. ‘You are not an easy man to locate.’ Wong Kai smiled, and she had the distinct impression that he knew full well she had been looking for him.

‘And I am pleased to meet you.’ He set his nail buffer aside and indicated a chair with an ornately carved dragon climbing up its back. ‘Welcome to the Chinese quarter. Please, do sit down.’

Kitty did so, and instantly regretted it because the seat was very close to the ground and now she had to look up at him.

‘May I offer you tea?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Kitty replied with genuine gratitude. She was parched.

When So-Yee had been summoned and the tea served, she said, ‘Mr Wong, I am here about your niece Bao.’ Wong Kai’s face stilled
and his brows lowered a fraction; Kitty noticed, but she went on. ‘Your brother Wong Fu is a friend of both me and my husband, Captain Rian Farrell. A good friend. Bao is also a companion of our daughter, Amber. Bao has not been well of late, and Wong Fu believes she needs time away from Ballarat, so he has asked me to escort her here to stay with you and your wife.’ Kitty paused to allow Wong Kai to make some general sort of comment about Mrs Wong, but there was none. ‘That I have done. She’s presently at my hotel with my daughter—I did not wish her to accompany me this morning in the event that I couldn’t locate you. I’m not convinced that this is an altogether safe town.’

‘It is not. And yet you have ventured out alone?’

‘I have.’ Kitty looked pointedly at the teapot and Wong Kai poured her another cup. ‘Thank you. I will bring her here this afternoon.’

‘No, not here. Not even my wife comes here. I will arrange to have her collected.’ Wong Kai contemplated Kitty unblinkingly, then inclined his head in a small bow. ‘Thank you, Mrs Farrell. I am indebted to you. I am very fond of my niece. But tell me, what has been the nature of her illness?’

Kitty explained what had happened to Bao, from the persistent persecution on the Ballarat goldfields, to the fear generated by the Eureka uprising. Wong Kai nodded, indicating his understanding that such things could be unnerving for a young girl. Then, not bothering to conceal her own anger over the affair, she told him frankly about Searle and Tuttle.

For some time Wong Kai didn’t utter a word. His face was expressionless, except for a small muscle that began to spasm beneath his right eyelid, but his eyes hardened until they seemed to resemble glittering, smoky quartz. Even though he sat some distance from her, Kitty felt the rage roll off him in silent waves, and she involuntarily pressed herself back into her chair.

‘These…
men
,’ he said eventually, his voice taut. ‘Justice was dispensed?’

‘Do you mean were the authorities alerted?’ Kitty asked, even though she was fairly sure he didn’t.

‘No, I mean were they made to pay.’ Each word came out of his mouth like a ball from the barrel of a musket.

‘I believe your brother attended to it.’

Wong Kai relaxed, just a little. ‘Then we must see what we can do to set poor Bao on the road to recovery. Fu has done the right thing.’ He gave himself a little shake and his anger seemed to get sucked back into him, like smoke disappearing up a chimney. ‘Now, Mrs Farrell, I also hear that you may have other business to discuss.’

Kitty nodded. How could he have known that? She hoped Mr Wu wasn’t in trouble. ‘Yes, I have a certain amount of gold I am in the market to sell. I don’t wish to go through the official channels, or to approach a gold buyer,’ she waved her hand vaguely at Wong Kai’s window, ‘on the street. I wondered if you could help.’ Gold purchased by Wong Kai, if he was indeed in that line of business, would not go back to England, but to China, and therefore would not be subject to certain duties and taxes. The price Kitty might get for it could well be better than the £3 normally on offer.

‘Are you sure that I buy gold, Mrs Farrell, or are you guessing?’

Kitty smoothed a crease from her skirt. ‘I’m guessing, Mr Wong. But I think it’s a reasonably educated guess.’

Wong Kai leaned back in his chair and made a steeple out of his fingers. ‘How much gold do you have?
If
I was in the business of buying gold, I would not be interested in a kerchief knotted around a handful of paltry little flakes.’

‘On this trip, 752 troy ounces. There will be more in the near future. Quite possibly a lot more. My husband believes his claim has nowhere near bottomed out. Our intention is to take out all we can as quickly as we can, as we wish to return to sea.’

Wong Kai looked thoughtful. ‘And your husband wishes to mine this claim himself?’

‘Well, yes, he does.’ Then Kitty understood what Wong Kai was thinking. ‘He doesn’t wish to sell it, no.’

‘Mmm.’ Wong Kai appeared to put that possibility aside. ‘As it happens, Mrs Farrell, I am in the business of buying gold, and I will buy yours. Here are my terms.’ He wrote a series of figures on a sheet of paper, placed it on a small lacquered tray and passed it to her. ‘And those are my best terms, given the panic the recent uprising at Eureka seems to have caused. They are not terms I am prepared to offer everyone with whom I do business, but you have been of great assistance to my family, so I am offering them to you.’