The King

with her sails slatting and booming for want of wind. Hammers and saws thudded or rasped as repairs were made to what damage they'd suffered. Lewrie accosted Captain Ayscough on the quarterdeck and related what Twigg was doing.

Ayscough drew his pocket watch from his breeches and studied the face, then cast an eye aloft to the coach- whip of the long, narrow private house flag, which flicked lazy as a cat's tail in the weak zephyrs.

'Shall we allow him to proceed, sir?' Alan asked, hoping for an order from his captain to go back and tell Twigg to leave off. As he waited for Ayscough to answer, there was a shrill scream from the prao, followed by a splash, and a sudden commotion in the water as the sharks found a tasty new tidbit.

'I'd admire if you assisted the third officer aloft, Mister Lewrie,' Ayscough grunted, his countenance dark and suffused with repressed emotions. 'There's damage to the fore-topmast to put aright. God grant there'll be wind soon so we may proceed, 'stead of lying here, boxing the compass.'

'But, sir…'

'Enough!' Ayscough snapped, then relented with a bitter sigh. 'Welcome to the mysterious, and cruel, Far East, Mister Lewrie.'

'Aye, sir.'

The wind came up about an hour after noon sights, and Telesto made her way north once more. The prao they burned, as a warning to the others. Her survivors, those that had not suffered Twigg's cruel attentions, hung like plucked fowl from her lateen yard by the neck.

Chapter 2

They anchored at Macao two weeks later, after riding out several heavy gales of monsoon winds and rain. Twigg, Wythy and Ayscough went ashore to the Chinese Customs House, to get what they called a 'chop,' which would allow them to proceed up the Pearl River to the traders' anchorage at Whampoa, an island twelve miles below the 'City of Rams,' China 's only trade outlet to the outside world. In the meantime, they would transfer cargo.

Even before their party had returned from shore, a rickety local lorcha came alongside, with written instructions from Twigg that they should transship the opium to her. Reputable merchantmen could not be seen engaging in the opium trade; that was for the local Portugese, who did not require a 'chop' to go up-river a short way.

The captain and mate of the lorcha were filthy brutes, part Indian, part Chinee and only part Portugese. Oh, they were clean enough to not stink as bad as Telesto's crew, but there was about them such a nefarious and desperate air of the practiced cut-throat that no one, especially after the affair with the pirates, wanted to get anywhere near them, as though they reeked of evil. The lorcha was long, low, rakish and fast-looking, armed to the teeth with swivels and lighter four-pounder guns. And her crew sprouted wickedly sharp weapons from every pocket.

'They look as though they sleep armed to the teeth,' Alan commented to Mr. Brainard, the sailing master. Once he was in warmer waters Brainard had shucked most of his woolen clothing for light cotton or nankeen, and looked particularly keen and energetic once more.

'If one wants to stay alive in Macao, one does,' Brainard said with a chuckle. 'The most sinful city on the face of this earth, no error. Too much money to be made here, too many temptations to steal or murder for it. And engaged in the opium trade as they are, they're on the razor's edge. Who knows when the mandarins'll decide to take 'em and strangle 'em for smuggling? You can't trust anyone except the members of the Co Hong up-river not to cheat you or pirate you for your shoe buckles! Man who'll trade with you one trip'll have you killed the next, and them not a week apart.'

There were eight rules for traders from the outside world in the Pearl River. No foreign-devil warships above the Bogue at the mouth of the river. No women, guns, spears or any arms allowed at the factories, or hongs, in Canton. All ships had to register at Macao, as well as all river pilots and ship's compra-dores. Each factory could have no more than eight Chinese working for them, so the fewest people would be contaminated by foreign-devils. Foreigners had to forego the pleasures of sailing the river for pleasure. Only on holidays could foreigners go to the Flower Gardens or the Honam Joss House, and then no more than ten at a time and only when accompanied by a linguist. They could not stay out after dark, or carouse. Foreign-devils could not present petitions to the native Viceroy; everything had to go through the Co Hong's eight members. The Co Hong could not go into debt with foreigners. Smuggling was forbidden. And lastly, foreign-devil ships could not loiter about outside the river but must go directly to Whampoa, instead of 'selling to rascally natives goods subject to duty, that these may smuggle them, and thereby defraud his Celestial Majesty's revenue.'

It was also, Alan learned, against his Celestial Majesty's law to teach foreign-devils Chinese, so trade was carried on in a mix of Portugee, Chinese and English called 'pidgin,' the closest the Chinese could come to saying 'business.'

Anything, anything that upset the touchy mandarins could bring a total cessation of trade, which hurt everybody, so merchantmen had to obey 'tremblingly,' as the Chinese officials concluded their documents. Yet, at the same time, a lively and illegal trade went on down-river at Lintin Island and at Nan'ao. Brainard had even told of mandarin boats ordered to enforce the ban against smuggling, and the opium trade, which contracted lucrative deals, and smuggled the stuff up to Canton themselves!

'Tonight, this lorcha'U be receiving a government mandarin on her decks,' Brainard explained. 'He'll get his tobacco and wine, warn about lingering in the estuary instead of going direct to Whampoa, and then he'll get down to brass tacks. 'How many chests?' he'll ask, and we'll tell him outright. Then he'll figure out what he thinks we're worth and ask for his singsong.'

'He'll want a serenade?' Alan grinned. 'God help him if Mister Twigg takes his bagpipers along, then.'

'No, his sing-song is his cut. His cumshaw … his custom. 'Allee same same sing-song, allee same custom.' ' Brainard laughed. 'After he's been feted and bought off, that's the signal for the real traders to come aboard and purchase. Then the lorcha comes back to Macao full of silver. Taels and taels of the bloody stuff, maybe five or six lac with the amount of opium we have on board, young sir. A lac, let me inform you, is worth about ten thousand pounds.'

'Merciful God!' Alan gasped in awe.

'And you'd better believe the custom official ashore yonder in Macao knows exactly what we're doing here, and our 'chop' will conveniently not arrive aboard 'til we've disposed of the opium, so we can sail up-river innocent as newborn babes. Gad, what a country!'

'So what are the chances of our suspected French privateers being at this Lintin Island, sir?' Alan asked.

'Depends on whether they've arrived or not. We may ask about, but not too much, else we'd raise too much suspicion. Might even affect the price of our cargo.' Brainard frowned. 'If they've looted all the ships we suspect they have, what they didn't have to share out to their native associates, they might already be up-river off Whampoa, pie-faced innocent as any other merchantmen.'

'Then they'd be a big ship, like us, sir?' Alan pressed.

'Possibly. Something fast, like one of their latest seventy-four-gunned Third Rates converted to a merchantman, like us. But that pretty much describes half the ships in the world that could get here. If they came here at all.'

'Well, sir,' Alan speculated, 'they'd have to dispose of their ill-gotten gains somewhere. Why not here?'

'Oh, I'll grant you that. Sooner'r later, they'd be stuffed bung to the deck-heads with loot,' Brainard snorted. 'But, they could drop it at He de France in the middle of the Indian Ocean, at Pondichery or Chandernargore, and ship it home on a Compagnie des Indies ship with no one the wiser.'

'But they've taken Indiamen and country ships loaded with silver or opium. The silver they could keep, maybe load it into a second vessel. But the opium would have to be sold here. Where else is there such a market for it, and where else on the Chinese coast would the mandarins collude with 'em?'