Mandarin-Gold (30 page)

Water chuckled against the raft. Gunn held his breath and listened. Would he hear a shark — or would it move silently, like a deadly shadow in the sea? The first thing he would know, if one attacked him, would be the grip of a hundred sharpened teeth, and then the unspeakable agony of a limb being severed, or the even worse anguish of being dragged beneath the sea, powerless to resist.

He kicked more vigorously to drive these horrible thoughts from his mind. He was almost up to the
Bosphorus
now, and a little too far along the tarred hull. One of the crew was playing a mandolin on the after-deck; the notes sounded like liquid drops of music. The current was carrying him towards the vessel, and he struck out strongly, heart pounding. It could be dangerous, perhaps fatal, to hit the hull. And it was unlikely anyone would hear him swimming past, however strong his strokes. Even if they did, they would think the noise was caused by waves.

He reached the rudder and wedged himself against the lower hinge, holding on with one hand. With his other arm through a loop on the raft, he untied the manilla rope, and wound this around the hinge, encrusted with rust and barnacles, and then around the barrel.

He tightened the rope, secured it with a reef knot and then tied the test-tube to the barrel with the loose end, close to the hinge. As he pushed against the barrel to check that it was firm, a gurgle of water sounded above him, and a sewage pipe discharged on his head.

Gunn ducked under the water to clean the stinking mess from his hair, and as he ducked he felt a rasp like sandpaper against his flesh. He kicked out as a shark turned on its back, its white belly a pale ghost in the green water.

Gunn took a huge breath, kicked with both feet, hands outstretched above his head, and then swam with all his might to the
Hesperides.
Every second he expected to feel the grip of teeth on his feet, and his heart thundered in his chest like a mighty drum. If the shark followed him, he was dead. Somehow he had to reach the rope ladder and haul himself out of the sea before the shark finished its meal of turds. He saw the dim dark outline of the
Hesperides
tower ahead of him and gasped hoarsely and desperately: 'Here! I'm here!'

Instantly, MacPherson lowered a ladder. Gunn clung on to the bottom rung, sobbing for breath, and then began to haul himself out of the water, dripping like a seal. MacPherson was waiting on deck, a beaker of Queen Anne in his hand. Gunn drank it thirstily.

'Give your orders as loudly as possible, so they'll hear you. Sail south. Then turn a hundred and eighty degrees north and we'll know if what Mackereth says about the Lord is right. Maybe Captain Ferguson is also praying.'

'Nothing avails like the prayers of a righteous man,' said Mackereth.

‘Agreed,' replied Gunn. 'But who among us here would dare to give ourselves that description?'

He walked along the deck into His cabin, picked up a towel, and began to rub himself dry. The deck slanted as wind filled the sails. The mist had cleared, and the moon was rising. From the
Bosphorus
lights danced like long; lit windows on the sea. A look-out was calling urgently from their crow's nest: 'Ahoy, below!
Hesperides
is sailing!'

A rattle of chains, a shouting of orders, and the
Bosphorus
began to turn slowly behind them. Gunn stood at the porthole, watching her rudder move in a swirl of water. There was no explosion, no spurt of fire or flame; nothing. That tube must have fallen into the sea. Then he remembered the second test-tube of acid on top of the gunpowder. Fernandes appeared at the door.

'They are following us, dead astern,' he reported. 'Five hundred yards behind.'

'Clap on all the sail you've got,' ordered Gunn, keeping disappointment out of his voice. Surely that gunpowder
must
explode? It was a chemical reaction that nothing could prevent — unless water had seeped in beneath the cover and the charge was damp. He turned away for a moment and in that moment the powder caught. His cabin flared red like a furnace mouth.

He dashed to the porthole. Clouds of white smoke billowed over the
Bosphorus'
stern. Men were shouting in terror and surprise. The stern post had gone and the rudder with it; the sea was boiling like a kettle.

The crew of the
Hesperides
began to cheer wildly, an animal reaction of relief and triumph. They sailed on, the wind freshening, while behind them the
Bosphorus
wallowed uselessly. Her crew began to scramble over her sides to rig a makeshift rudder before wind and current ran her aground on the sands. Gunn wiped his face with his towel. It was damp, not with seawater now, but sweat.
He had done it!
This wasn't the last battle he had won, true; but it
wasn't the first, either. There had been the Parsee; then Crutchley; and now the might of Jardine and Matheson. And in each case, ruthlessness and resolution had overcome the opposition.

He stood naked, looking at himself in. the mirror, grinning with triumph. Then he heard a voice behind him. Ling Fai stood framed in the doorway against the moon.

'Come here,' he said roughly, and drew her towards him. He felt his body harden as she slipped out of her silk shift, and he took her there as they stood, her firm buttocks pressed up against the wall of the cabin, her legs entwined against his waist, mouth to mouth, stabbing her as though he would die if he stopped.

All through .that long hot passionate night, the
Hesperides
sailed north; and then through the next day and night, and the following day, with the wind still behind them.
_;
It was dusk on the third day when Fernandes sought, permission to draw closer to the shore and drop anchor.

‘The charts are very vague here,' he admitted, 'but I hear that a friend of the mandarin we dealt with at Whang-pi is the new governor. He's also related to the Hoppo in some way. He has just been posted here, so he is probably willing to start up trade.'

'We'll find out in the morning,' said Gunn, scanning the' coast through his glass. Two war junks with high sterns and painted eyes to watch for the enemy were moored near the usual flotsam of sampans. Beyond the beach lay a handful of brick buildings with straw roofs. Their arrival must have been noted.

'We believe the five happinesses — the most happy ones — are long life, muchee riches, good things said about you, love of virtue, and at end of all, natural death. These are the five maintime happinesses.'

When dawn streaked the sky, she flitted away to her own quarters like a shadow. Gunn was growing obsessed by her, and his obsession overcame the guilt he felt about their association. She was there for the taking, and his need seemed mirrored by hers. And if MacPherson claimed her as his woman, then he should be able to guard her and keep her for his own. But MacPherson did not even appear to notice whether she was with him or not. He had his rum and he moved blindly; it was not for Gunn to open his eyes.

It was equally useless to wonder what might happen if MacPherson discovered he was cuckolding him. That event could argue itself. You enjoyed the moment. You lived for those climactic seconds when, back arched like a drawn bow, you pumped your seed into her willing, sobbing body, and then, damp with sweat, all passion spent, life drawn out of your being in the long pearly thread of love, you waited until she aroused you again. What did tomorrow matter when this was tonight?

Fernandes stood in the doorway as Gunn shaved. 'There's a ship approaching,' he announced. 'The
Golden Swan.
A Jardine and Matheson clipper.'

Gunn finished shaving, wrapped a towel around his naked loins, and looked through the porthole. The clipper was coming in under full sail. She would be alongside within an hour.

'What about this mandarin fellow?'

'He's on his way. Several boats are already rowing out from shore towards us.'

‘Then we'll try and offload all we can to him as soon as possible. Have some wine set out on the deck and a table and chairs, while I dress.'

The sun was already half-way up the sky, and the scrubbed deck planks stretched fresh and clean under Gunn's feet. The shore seemed greener than any green in England; the sea shone blue as porcelain. All colours were so much more intense in the tropics than in the cold northern climate, and life and its passions were correspondingly intensified. Surely this was a large part of the ceaseless burning attraction of the East?

The mandarin came ponderously up the gangway, bowed, hands in his sleeves, and sat down in the cane chair. The cabin boy poured him a glass of claret. Mackereth hovered in the shade of the cabin wall. The mandarin spoke first; Mackereth translated.

'He says, doctor, that as wheels revolve, so may sales and supplies continue. But he is surprised to see two ships where none have ever been before.'

'Tell him we share his surprise. Tell him also that we are friendly rivals. We will be honoured by his custom, but because of these rivals, we lack time to treat this matter of trade with him with the dignity that the mandarin's superior position deserves. Make sure he understands we seek no insult to his illustrious person by asking him, before our rivals approach, whether he will take some chests or not. And remember, we are carrying three hundred cases of best Patna mud.'

'He knows,' said Mackereth. 'He also knows the
Golden Swan
is almost here.'

'The
Golden Swan
is anchoring,' warned MacPherson. 'The captain's holding a voice trumpet. He is going to hail you.'

'A hundred it is,' said Gunn shortly.

He nodded to Fernandes. The crew heaved open the hatches, and the heavy smell of damp opium drenched them all with its honey-sweet scent. The
Golden Swan's
captain called: 'Dr Gunn, I presume?'

'What do you want with me?' asked Gunn.

'You are trading in our area,' replied the captain. 'I have instructions to order you to desist.'

'No one
orders
me to do anything,' retorted Gunn. ‘I don't
take
orders, captain. I give them.'

He watched the little sampans bob their blunt bows against the
Golden Swan's
hull. Already men were scrambling up rope ladders; a chance to set one shipload of Barbarians traders against another did not come every day.

The captain shouted again.

'So you've sold a hundred at eight. We are offering His Excellency a hundred at
five!'

A
stocky figure in a wide-brimmed hat appeared beside the rival captain.

'That's Gutzlaff, the missionary Jardine uses as an interpreter. The fact he's aboard means the
Swan's
calling in at a lot of new places where they won't speak pidgin.'

Gutzlaff began to shout in dialect; the mandarin inclined his head briefly.

'He's agreeing their terms,' said MacPherson bitterly. 'Sitting here, drinking
our
wine, and buying
their
mud!'

'We can't stop him,' Gunn replied. 'Therefore, count out his money while he's here.'

The mandarin's servant produced a leather bag from the folds of his robe, and began to count out little silver coins on the white deck. The mandarin checked the sums on an abacus. Mackereth accepted the coins and recounted them. Over their heads, all the while, men with hooks and ropes scooped the boxes from hatches and over into the sampans. They were doing the same thing, of course, aboard the
Golden Swan.
Both crews finished at the same time.

The captain called ironically: 'Where to now, Dr Gunn? I had expected to meet Captain Ferguson in. the
Bosphorus
here. But as he has not arrived, we will have to stay with you on our own. We have four hundred chests still to go.'

Gunn had two hundred. The
Golden Swan
could break him and sail away to sell the remainder at any price they chose. He had been too confident too soon. He could not blow the rudder off every ship in their fleet. What was his one vessel, as Jardine had said, against so many of theirs?