Shame of Man by Piers Anthony
Hue looked across to the other ships, and saw that the San Juan was also battening down, as were the smaller two-masted vessels that served as messenger ships and transport between the main ships. Their bare rigging looked stark, as if the ships were naked. Columns of thick smoke still rose from the tryworks on land, as the important work could not be stopped just because of rain. That was why they were roofed. One coil of smoke was flattening in the wind and passing directly over the small cemetery, as if signaling the storm's intention: death to whalers.
The winds struck, whipping the sea into waves of increasing size and heft, with whitecaps forming. The San Pedro shuddered with the blast of air, and nosed around to face the storm, straining at the anchor.
Meanwhile the chalupa with the whale remained at sea, unable to return to land or ship unless it cut free. But it wasn't cutting free; a whale was too valuable to let go for any reason. The men were risking their lives to hold on to their prey.
Hue remained on deck, ready to help in whatever way was needed. But Captain Ittai spied him and yelled negation. “Don't tempt it, man! Get out of sight.”
That seemed like good advice, for now a wave smashed against the hull and broke over the deck, sending a wash of bubbly water across to wet their feet.
Hue got out of sight, rejoining his family. Scevor was frightened, clinging to Ana, who also looked distinctly nervous as the ship pitched. But Min was at peace, holding on to the wall but staring raptly out the tiny porthole.
Hue joined her. It was a window to savagery, as the waves battered at the hull. Each shock seemed harder than the last, until the ship's timbers groaned with strain. The spirits certainly seemed angry!
Min put her hand on his, reassuringly. She seemed older than her twelve years, and her touch did shore up his confidence again.
The howl of the winds got worse. The masts made it sing, but it wasn't any nice song. Water dripped from above, signaling more washes across the deck. How big would those waves get?
The storm continued as the night closed, rocking the ship at irregular intervals. Whenever it seemed to be easing, an even more ferocious wave would strike. There was nothing they could do but wait, and try to relax.
They got together on the bunk, each with one or two hands hung on to it, and spread a blanket over them all. There was warmth as well as comfort in this family group.
“Why did we come here, Daddy?” Scevor asked plaintively.
“We unintentionally affronted the king of Spain, and had to flee his possible wrath,” Hue said. “But when we return, after several months, we believe he will have forgotten the matter, so we will be safe.” But they would try to remain inconspicuous, just in case.
Finally they slept, still bundled. Hue dreamed of the storm, of ships being smashed against the rocks of shore and wrecked. Such images came readily to mind as long as the storm held.
Some time in the night it passed, and all was calm.
But the morning brought no joy. For the San Juan was gone. The men in small boats quickly confirmed the worst: she had gone down in the storm.
“The women!” a crewman shouted. “The bad hands! They caused this!”
Others turned to face Hue and his family, their expressions turning ugly. Hue felt a chill that was not of the storm. But Captain Ittai overrode it. “You have it reversed,” he proclaimed. “We were spared! We have had bad luck all along, and this one time good luck. While the San Juan had good luck as long as they associated with it—and the moment they left it, the luck turned. Had they brought us a curse, we would have been the ship sunk. They bring good luck, not bad.”
The crewmen stared at him and at Hue's family, then at each other. He was right: the message of the luck was plain. No one could deny the precision of the storm's damage.
“Now get to work on salvage,” the captain said. “We can help the survivors, and we can bring up most of that sunken oil. We will have our hold full after all.”
Hue looked at Min. How right she had been about the spirits! They had spared the family, and struck at the ship with the most whale oil aboard.
Could she also predict their reception when they returned to Spain? He thought it better not to ask.
They did manage to salvage more than half of the barrels of whale oil aboard the San Juan, and left the sunken hulk for archaeologists to discover almost four hundred years later, when the fact of Basque whaling in the region had been almost forgotten.
The operation continued until the populations of right whales and bowheads was virtually extinct in that region. Then they moved on to Spitsbergen, north of Norway, where an undepleted stock of whales beckoned. Today a number of species of whales have been hunted almost to extinction, and several nations are eager to resume the slaughter. Whaling pays very well—until the whales are gone.
CHAPTER 18
* * *
TAIPING
The Mongols governed China for most of a century before a rebellion conquered them. The following Ming dynasty endured almost 300 years before being conquered by the Manchus of Manchuria, whose Ch'ing dynasty lasted almost another 300 years. But at times the government's hold seemed tenuous. It was a period of unrest.
In 1836 a young man went to Canton to take the civil service examinations, which he had failed before. He failed again, which was not surprising, as there might be only one position for a hundred applicants. He happened to be given a pamphlet titled “Good Words to Admonish the Age,” which explained the basic tenets of Protestant Christianity. A year later, after failing another examination, he had a nervous breakdown, complicated by physical illness. He suffered convulsions and delusions for four days, and was transformed by the experience. He became more confident. But in 1843 he failed the exam yet again, and this time was impressed by the pamphlet he had had for seven years. He realized that during his illness he had ascended to heaven and met with many angels, Jesus, and God Himself. God had charged him with the task of destroying the devils infesting the earthly kingdom. He changed his name, called himself the Noble King, and claimed to be the younger brother of Christ. He set out to establish the Kingdom of God on Earth. Disaffected people found this appealing.
Militia units were formed to protect local interests. His early followers had brilliant organizational abilities, and in 1850 the movement grew into a full military rebellion called the T'ai-p'ing T'ien-kuo: Heavenly Kingdom of Great Peace. It had male and female armies, though the women usually had non-combatant roles. An early attempt to abolish marriage, because all people were brothers and sisters, did not work out. Military leaders were the East, North, West, and South kings, who sometimes conspired against each other, and in due course were replaced by other kings. Nevertheless, the Taiping armies of peace conquered much of China, and in 1862 they were moving to take the important port cities that had withstood their prior sieges. It looked very much as if these would fall.
However, there were European interests moving into China, because of the lucrative opium trade, and these viewed the Taiping encroachment with misgiving. It was ironic that Taiping, as a Christian force, should normally have affiliated with the Christian forces of Europe—but wouldn't, because Taiping abhorred opium. Thus these seemingly natural allies became opponents. The Europeans were concentrated in the worst of the ports, the one the empire let them have, because of its miserable climate, chronic plagues of smallpox, cholera, and dysentery, and common piracy and brigandage. In fact it was a notorious sinkhole of filth, crime, and foreigners that the Imperial authorities hardly cared about. The Manchu military forces there were ill-trained and unmotivated. This was Shanghai.
As the armies of the Heavenly Kingdom advanced on this stinking hole, it might have seemed that Shanghai was destined for conquest and enlightenment. But there were certain cautions. The foreigners’ numbers were very small compared to those of the Taiping armies, but they had modern firearms, against soldiers armed mostly with spears. And they had an American adventurer named Frederick Townsend Ward who, with a few hund
THE junk sailed into the port of Shanghai with its square sails half furled. Hu'o tried to conceal his nervousness. They had been away from China for the better part of a year, but there was no certainty that the Heavenly Kingdom had forgotten about them. If they could travel quietly to some far province of the Manchu Empire they would probably be safe, and they would be among their own kind instead of foreigners. It was a chance they had to take.
Captain I'ti approached. “It has been good to have you aboard,” he said. “Your music has delighted us.”
“Thank you.” Hu'o suspected that the man had something on his mind, so waited politely.
“I understand that the city is under siege,” I'ti said. “Sometimes this makes for complications.”
“Surely so,” Hu'o agreed.
“Your wife and daughter are both beautiful. This might be considered a liability in certain circumstances.”
“Never to me.” Hu'o glanced at both Ann and Mi'in, who were beside him. Ann had always been beautiful, and now Mi'in at age thirteen was coming into her splendor.
“Perhaps they might don male attire, until you are free of the city.”
Now Hu'o understood. In time of war, pretty women were apt to become prizes for troops of either side. “This is a thoughtful notion.”
“I have some clothing left by former hands. They would be welcome to it.”
“We thank you most effusively,” Hu'o said, bowing his head to the captain.
In short order the family of man, two women, and boy became a family of man, two striplings, and boy. Ann even rubbed some dirt into her chin as if it were considering a beard. She and Mi'in appeared to be rather slight young men, but that was surely better than to be rather comely women.
They were not the first to depart the ship. Hu'o preferred to wait, searching the dock for any suspicious character. There were a number of unsavory-looking men, but that was normal, considering the reputation of this port. All seemed to be in order.
They filed across the gangplank, little Skev following Hu'o. There was no way to conceal the boy's small stature; he was only six. But they tried to act nonchalant, hoping that no agent of Taiping was lurking. No one else mattered, really, for they could probably handle the routine cutthroats, especially if any of the ship's crewmen remained near. It had been an excellent trading voyage, and the crew had concluded that the presence of the family had brought the ship good fortune.
As Hu'o led the way from the dock, a young foreigner intercepted him. “I beg your pardon,” the man said. He was British, wearing the odd clothing of the type: leather boots, belted trousers, buttoned jacket, white shirt with collar and tie, and, when he doffed his green turban, a thick head of short hair parted down the center.
Hu'o paused. He did not speak the foreigner's barbaric tongue, but perhaps the man spoke Chinese. “I do not understand,” he said carefully.
The man shifted to a passable emulation of Hu'o's dialect. “Could I talk with you a moment? It may be important.”
This did not seem to be a threat. “If you wish,” Hu'o agreed.
“I see you have a child in your party, and two women garbed as men. This is unusual, for a merchant ship.”
So much for their effort of concealment. “What is your concern?”
“Please, let me introduce myself. I am Wood, from England. I am attached to Commander Ward's unit. Perhaps you know of him.”
Hu'o nodded. “An American soldier of fortune,” he said. “Said to be very brave. Fighting the Taiping.” Which was a good sign. “I am Hu'o, with my family.”
“We believe that there is a Taiping spy in the vicinity, looking for someone, up to no good,” Wood said. “Would you know anything of that?”
“We are afraid of that,” Hu'o said. “We inadvertently gave offense to the Taiping leader, and had to flee for our lives. We hoped we had been forgotten.”
“Then you are surely the people I am seeking,” Wood said, smiling. “You see, we wish to capture that spy and interrogate her. It is no secret that our lines are spread extremely thinly, and we need all the information about the enemy's plans that we can obtain. If you are the ones she is after, we can offer our protection, and hope to benefit by it.”
“The spy is a woman?” Ann asked sharply.
“Oh, yes, some of the most effective spies are women,” Wood said. “They can sometimes infiltrate where men can't, and avoid suspicion. I have been especially alert for women who conceal their gender, lest one be her.” Which explained why he had spotted Ann and Mi'in. “This one is adept at disguise, so that we have no idea what she may look like now. In fact we know her mainly by reputation.”
“Do you know her name?”
“She has many names, but we call her Serilda, the ‘girl of war.’ She's about thirty years old, but still remarkably attractive and well conditioned.”
“Is she a dancer?” Ann asked.
“Why yes, at one time she was; that perhaps accounts for her appearance. How did you know?”
“We know her,” Hu'o said tightly.
Wood broke into a smile. “Wonderful! This is exactly what we need. Someone who can recognize her even in disguise. But by the same token, you must indeed be the ones she is after. We knew she was looking for someone or something that would arrive on a ship, but we knew neither what it was nor whom she was. I simply had to watch every ship, and hope to catch her when she found what she sought. I'm glad I checked with you. But something I don't quite understand is why they would send a lone woman instead of a male assassin, if they wish to be rid of you.”
“Because she knows us,” Hu'o said. “Maybe she means only to identify us, and then will report to the assassin.”
“Yes, of course. How foolish of me not to realize that.” Wood looked around a bit nervously. “I believe we can do each other some good. Will you come with me to meet my leader? Commander Ward can protect you, and maybe we can capture Serilda when she comes to identify you.”
Hu'o exchanged a glance with Ann, then with Mi'in, who had a special perception about such things. Ann also looked at the girl. Mi'in nodded yes, but there was doubt on her face.
Wood picked up on it. “I see this is a family decision. I realize that I am a stranger to you, so trust is difficult. I'm not sure how I can reassure you that I am legitimate.”
“It's not that,” Mi'in said, meeting his gaze. Hu'o saw Wood's eyes dilate as he appreciated her young beauty despite the male costume. It would have happened well before this, if she had been dressed normally, and instantly had she wished to impress him. She was Chinese, and he was white-skinned British, but her magic transcended race. It wasn't just her developing beauty; it was her ambience. The spirits surrounded her, and showed in her eyes. That was why the family consulted with her when making important decisions; she had insights stemming from other than normal channels. “You are all right. But there is danger.” She averted her eyes.
Only then did Wood shake himself back to ordinary matters. Mi'in had been looking beyond his face, perhaps into his soul, but in so doing she had held him fascinated. She had done it for good reason, because he was indeed a stranger about whom they needed reassurance. Unfortunately it was clear that the young man had not before encountered something like this, and his fascination of the moment could readily become a more abiding passion if they weren't careful.
“We will go with you,” Ann said, appreciating the situation, as Hu'o had. “Take us to your leader.”
Wood nodded, still a bit blankly, then turned. Ann followed, taking Skev's hand. Hu'o and Mi'in were last. Ann was arranging it that way, to protect the child, and so that Hu'o could question Mi'in privately.
“Danger?” he murmured.
“She is here,” Mi'in said. “She has seen us. We can't hide from her.”
“She wants Skev,” Hu'o said. “Maybe she doesn't care what happens t
“Yes. But it's more than that. I'm not sure Wood can protect us.”
“It's better than being alone,” Hu'o said. “She must have been watching for us all along. We had no chance to escape her notice.”
She glanced at him. “Maybe she wants you, too.”
That made him take stock. Serilda had been a special nemesis over the years. At one time, in circumstances he preferred not to think about, he had had an affair with her, and Skev was the result. He had managed to get the boy three years ago, and hadn't seen Serilda since, but there was always the lurking fear that she would reappear. Now it seemed that she had gone to work for the Taiping Rebellion, so had become immensely more dangerous. He could understand her antipathy to his family, though his family had never been at fault. He could understand her desire to recover her son, though she had agreed to the adoption at the time, because it had been to an extent under duress. But he had more difficulty understanding how she could still desire him, as he had made it plain that he did not desire her. Unless she simply wanted to have the victory—to take him over his own protest. She had always seemed to have a hankering for him, and he had at one time found her intriguing, but he had always preferred Ann. Maybe that was an intolerable affront to Serilda.
In any event, he wanted to be far away from whatever Serilda had in mind. Wood and Commander Ward seemed to be their best chance at the moment. But he knew how cunning Serilda was. She was all too apt to find a way to strike at them despite any protection they might have. “Keep an eye on Skev,” he murmured.
“And on you,” Mi'in said, smiling. It was a joke, but with its element of truth; she knew about Skev's origin. Then her face sobered, as did Hu'o's own, because thoughts of Skev's arrival reminded them of the loss of Hu'o and Ann's natural son, Chi'ip, at the same time. He had been two years older than Mi'in, her big brother for all her memory. Hu'o had never been sure of the effect that loss had on her, and had never cared to inquire. Certainly it had impressed on her the uncertainty of life.