Mean Sun (14 page)

Several cats darted about through the shrubs and bushes, pampered creatures; and it occurred to me that, aside from the two horses, they were the first such animals I had seen since we arrived.

Six women in pretty silk robes in shades of amber, green and earthy browns stood before the largest bay. The women’s lustrous black hair was pulled back from their faces and piled high onto their heads in various styles, cleverly accented with attractive adornments.

“Which lady is the honorable Wen Xi?” asked Greyson in a whisper.

“She will arrive in small moment,” answered Wong, exchanging gracious smiles with the ladies.

We waited longer than a moment, when two women charged out from the bay in the midst of a noisy squabble. One was an old woman with a face like a weathered board, the other, young, near my own age. The old woman was doggedly attempting to straighten the young woman’s disheveled robes to cover a naked breast that peeked out. The younger woman merely slapped her hand away with angry disdain.

The tempest came to an abrupt halt as the young lady caught sight of us, and, hands defiantly on her hips, glared down at the rose I was holding.

“May I present the honorable Wen Xi,” said Wong with a humble sweep of his arm.

I bowed and scraped more out of reflex to her lively entrance than to decorum. The other women now stood stone-faced with chagrin.

It was evident the woman had been aroused from slumber, for her eyes were glassy and a rosy wrinkle was impressed on her cheek. Her hair was in utter disarray; the breeze was picking wild strands to whip about like the braids of Medusa. Yet she was a remarkable beauty. The powder and paint of the other ladies were revealed as false coin by her unsullied loveliness. Her fragile form seemed to hold so much fire and force that I felt as if I were glimpsing a revelation of spirit. As she looked about, every angle of her countenance inspired fresh fascination for her beauty.

“Most honorable Wen Xi,” Greyson began, “this flower we call the Wen Rose in your great honor.” He nodded to me and, coming out of my reverie, I stepped forward and extended the vase. She glanced at it dismissively and one of her attendants demurely stepped forward to claim it. “We sincerely hope that it comes to symbolize the friendship of our two peoples, and express our joy and gladness at your wedding.”

I anticipated Wong’s translation, but our friend remained silent. Wen Xi then snatched the vase from the maiden’s hand, and sent it crashing to the ground.

“No honor!” she shouted. “No honor, English man!” With raw fury, she spewed invective in her native tongue—at the old woman, at Wong, and at the ladies, then rounded on us. “You go!” she shouted at us. “Leave! I hate honor!”

Directed by the old woman, the maidens took hold of her forcefully and dragged her kicking and screaming back into the bay.

Mr. Wong seemed amused by it all and let out a loud chuckle.

“You didn’t say she could speak English,” remarked Greyson.

“She speak bad English,” said Wong, laughing, then slyly: “General will have a spirited horse in his stable. Maybe he stop riding now.”

“I’m sorry she didn’t like the rose,” said I.

“We will plant them,” said Wong, gesturing. “She must see them everywhere and learn to accept.”

On our return the view of the harbor appeared again at our feet. Mr. Wong rose up from his seat, alert to a new detail in the painting: A large, impressive junk was easing into the harbor, flags and banners fluttering and men like ants scurrying across its decks, followed by a flotilla of smaller vessels.

“General Jheng Jiing has returned,” said Wong, with a note of anxiety.

Soldiers were dashing about the wharves in all directions, assembling themselves in formations, while anxious officers shrieked orders. Drums were pounding somewhere in the distance. All of Amoy was on its feet.

Lord Douglas and I marveled at the riot of activity on the boat ride back to the
Sovereign.

In his cabin, I found Jacob Hearne had the maps of Amoy spread out before him. He, Grimmel, Whitehead and several of the other officers were pouring over the details of the city’s defenses, which had been surreptitiously scouted since our arrival.

“What is all that banging and clatter out there?” asked Hearne with irritation.

“General Jheng Jiing has returned home, sir,” I said.

“One ship, three fortresses!” he grumbled, now shoving the maps away. “The only way this can play out to advantage is to have some distraction that tosses the lot of them into confusion. If we simply open fire, they’ll break us into splinters.”

“What manner of distraction, Captain?” asked Whitehead.

“The eruption of a volcano,” replied Hearne, ruefully sitting back into his chair and reaching out for a bottle of port. “Yes, a volcano should do quite nicely.”

One of the boatswains knocked and stuck his head into the room, respectfully doffing his cap.

“Captain, sir, a visitor wishes permission to board.”

“Who’s that?” asked Hearne.

“Captain Robert Belfry, sir.”

“Belfry?!” declared Hearne with a delighted chuckle. “Well, gentlemen, that saves us a deal of trouble, doesn’t it?” He turned back to the boatswain. “By all means, show him in.”

This lifted the captain’s mood considerably.

“One less straw for our backs, aye, boys?” said he. “He comes to surrender. Oh, what a fine fellow!”

A moment later, Belfry entered, attired in a smart suit of clothes that marked his distinction as a captain and his success as a privateer. He held a great plumed hat in his hands and wore a stoic expression.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, Captain Hearne,” said Belfry with dignity. “I am Robert Belfry.”

I noted Grimmel was alternately grinning and convulsing with barely-stifled chuckles. Belfry dismissed him with a contemptuous glance.

“My pleasure, Captain Belfry,” replied Hearne. “Would you kindly allow our boatswain here to relieve you of your sword and pistols, sir?”

“My sword, Captain?”

“You are under arrest,” explained Hearne, as Belfry’s weapons were quickly gathered. “We have learned you are a wicked fellow indeed, Captain.”

“Lies, lies, and more lies,” protested Belfry. “This is not the custom of a welcome, Captain.”

“Perhaps not, but we are all deeply grateful that you have saved us the complication of apprehending you.”

“That’s not why I come,” said Belfry. “I come to propose a truce, sir.”

“Truce?”

“Aye, sir,” continued Belfry. “I heard whispers that you were up to an action here.” He shot a quick glance at Grimmel, who winced sourly at the words. Hearne followed his gaze to Grimmel and frowned with irritation. “And am come to offer my assistance.”

“What assistance could you possibly give—that we would possibly accept?”

“Well,” said Belfry, stepping forward and surveying the maps with a quick eye. “I see here you have the defenses marked out. That can’t be your game, can it, Captain.”

“Seeing you have lost your liberty,” returned Hearne, “I see no disadvantage to the truth. It is.”

“Slender odds,” remarked Belfry.

“Tell me, Captain,” said Hearne, changing his focus. “I have seen bonfires day and night and dung carts by the hour. Ash, charcoal, salt peter. Would there be a black powder mill in the city?”

“Aye, sir,” answered Belfry. “A large one, too.” He laid his finger on a section of the map. “Lies right there, behind the temple. Was a grain mill, but Jiing took it over to make gunpowder. They have sulfur mines and transport it here.”

“They use grinding stones then?”

“They do,” replied Belfry. “And their prisoners grind it dry, too.”

“Dry, you say?”

“They are desperate for powder on the mainland. They cannot grind it fast enough, and if they were to dampen it, which is the proper and safe way, it takes too long to dry.”

“Forgive my manners, Captain,” said Hearne. “Please have a seat. You mentioned a truce?”

Belfry elbowed Grimmel subtly out of his path as he took a place opposite Hearne. He studied the port bottle long enough for Hearne to reach across and pour him a drink.

“Thank you, sir,” said he, downing the port. “What I propose, Captain, is that me and my mates and the
Seahorse
aid you in your affairs here to clear our good names.”

“How might you do that?”

Belfry picked up three glasses and strategically placed them around the map.

“Here’s the
Sovereign
,” said he, indicating our position in the harbor. “The northern and southern fortress you have in good position; it would require heavy and sustained fire to knock them
out. But the western fortress, here, is out of range. You would have to complete your business with these two, taking on lead yourself, and then, with luck, make it to the western fortress, which would be waiting for you with all her fuses glowing.”

“Let’s suppose you are correct, Captain.”

“I say let the Seahorse fire on the western fortress. We’ll take it out.”

“And what would that cost me?”

“A scrap of paper and a promise.”

“I’m listening,” said Hearne. “Tell me first about the paper.”

“A letter to the Crown and Admiralty Board stating that I assisted in this affair out of love and loyalty, and that you have determined that, upon investigation, the accusations about me were Dutch lies.”

“And the promise?” inquired Hearne.

“The girl, Wen Xi, Captain,” said Belfry. “You see, I’ve been cultivating a certain Chinese captain of her guard with bribes, sir. The general’s own men feel the war is lost. I was hoping to snatch her up and return her home. There’s a sweet prize for her.”

“What’s my promise?”

“That you will split that prize with me.”

“Oh, I think not,” said Hearne, yawning and stretching his arms extravagantly.

“What?!” barked Belfry.

“A small portion of that prize should find its way back to the Crown,” said Hearne. “Your share. Paper alone might not satisfy.”

“Very well, Captain Hearne,” said Belfry, after a brooding pause, rising from his seat. “I take it I may return to my ship then?”

“You may, Captain,” replied Hearne. “Privately, sir, I have heard nothing but high praise for your character and your loyalty. That is the truth.”

Belfry’s expression softened. He extended his hand to Hearne, and the two men shook.

“I am most pleased to have you as an ally, Captain Belfry.”

Belfry nodded, and, casting one more glowering glance at Grimmel, departed. The moment he was gone, Hearne turned to Mr. Brooks.

“How much flint do we have aboard, Mr. Brooks?”

“Flint? Very little, sir,” replied Brooks.

“Take as much as you can spare,” directed Hearne. “We also need metal filings, several pounds, ground sharp. Do you understand?”

“I don’t follow, sir,” said Whitehead.

“We must find that powder mill and salt the sulfur and the charcoal with the metal filings and the flint,” said Hearne. “Ground together between those stones with the powder, we just may produce our volcano, gentlemen.”

Chapter 12

Men of the Tiger

Nothing was heard from Mr. Wong all the next several days. The general’s presence, however, had transformed his troops from lax rabble into a diligent army. Sentries were patrolling the streets and parapets with timely precision. Hearne observed fresh transfers of troops and supplies to the mainland. The city’s rice supply improved, along with other staples.

Lord Douglas was eager for a meeting with the general and prevailed upon Captain Hearne to dispatch Mr. Whitehead to locate Mr. Wong and convey his desire to pay his respects. Groveling apologies were returned by Wong with the explanation that the general had been in conference with his officers and busy with the wedding ceremonies that were to take place next week. On that evening they would be his guests at a banquet.

As the roses were unloaded that afternoon, I was called to Mr. Whitehead’s cabin. He sat at his desk, shirtless from the heat, and feverish. He suppressed a harsh cough as I approached.

“How is your health?” he asked.

“Improved, sir,” I replied. “The pains in my back are gone. Cough lingers.”

“Good,” he said. “The roses will be delivered to Wen Xi today, and we need someone to accompany the package.”