"Whatever you say, sorr." Tinker handed him the flask and touched his forelock, "Thanks.

Weren't for you we'd be below, all of us--along with him."

There was barely a swallow left but it helped.

"I thought I'd never make it. We forget it. Your oath, eh?"' "Whatever you say sorr, but afore we forget it, when the box sank an' broke up an' he come out it, he didn't half give me a turn, by God. I thort he were trying to bloody come back aboard."

"Jesus Christ," Jamie had gasped.

"You're imagining it, I saw nothing--you're imagining it."

"Oh no I weren't, sorr, my eye line's higher an' yors, right? An' I saw the bugger, begging your pardon, I saw him come out and flail for the surface afore he were sucked down."

"You're imagining things, for Christ's sake.

What an awful thing to say!"

"It's the God's Truth, sorr, so help me! 'Course it were only for a moment and sea spume were all around him but I seed him right enough!" Tinker had spat to leeward, touched wood, and made the sign against the Evil Eye and the Devil, and pulled the lobe of his ear to make his point. "God's truth, sorr an' strike me down if I lie, made my balls jump to Kingdom come. Struck out for the surface he did afore Davy Jones sucked him down, naked as a babe."

"A lot of bloody cobblers!

Nonsense!" Jamie remembered how he had shivered and touched wood himself just in case.

"You're imagining it, Bosun, though I swear to God that bloody coffin seemed to have a mind of its own, an evil one at that."

"My whole point, sorr, it were possessed by Old Nick hisself." Again Tinker spat to leeward, sweating. "Flailed for the surface he did, different like, eyes open and all, and I thort he was coming at us for good."

"For Christ's sake, give over!

Malcolm wouldn't do anything bad to us," he had said ill at ease. "It was a trick of your mind."

"My eye line, sorr, was high--"' "Forget your bloody eye line. Have you any rum left?"' Tinker coughed and reached into a hidden locker and pulled out another flask. It was half empty.

Jamie took a large swallow, choked, and took another.

"There'll be ten cases of rum in our warehouse for you to draw against, Tinker, with my thanks. You did a fine job, so did the stoker--four cases for him." Tinker thanked him effusively. The grand rum heat in his stomach had swamped all his chill. He looked at the old weathered face and shrewd blue eyes. "I was never so bloody scared, never, in my whole life. I thought I was a goner three or four times."

"Not me, sorr," the Bosun said with a grin.

"Not with you aboard, but I was right happy when the bugger and his box were overboard and him sucked down cursing us all the way..."

Though safe ashore, again Jamie shivered, thinking of it. Angelique said, "You should get out of those wet clothes."

Hoag said, "Well, I'm off."

She put her arms around him and kissed his cheek closing her nostrils to the smell of vomit.

"Thank you so much, see you tomorrow." She did the same to Skye. The two men went off unsteadily. "Will they be all right?"

Jamie said, "Nothing that a few whiskies and a night's sleep won't cure."

"They're not in shape to discuss anything, are they?"

"No. What do you want to discuss?"

She took his arm in hers and hugged it. "Just to decide about tomorrow."

"We can talk as we go." They said good night to Tinker and the stoker, both men again thanking McFay for the rum. Then they walked off arm in arm. "Angelique--before you say anything, I'm glad we did it."

"Oh so am I, dear Jamie, you are a dear and I truly am so glad and so happy nothing went wrong, no one was hurt." A wan smile.

"Just a little sick."

"Nothing to worry about. Tomorrow?"

"I've decided not to go with the mail ship, no, please don't say anything, I've decided.

I'm safer here. Until I hear from Tess formally. Really, Jamie, I am, I'm safer here. And I'm sure Hoag and George would agree that medically it would be wise. I don't think you should go either."

"It's my job to tell Mrs. Struan, Mrs. Tess Struan."

"You can call me Angelique, you always have and I, well, I've only been Mrs. Struan for a moment." She sighed, continued walking towards the Struan Building. "It's better I stay. She'll have to declare herself, better by letter here. Malcolm's buried and that's all that I wanted. Do you have to go?"

"In this wind," he said, thinking aloud, "Prancing Cloud could make fifteen to seventeen knots, day in day out, and be tied up in Hong Kong in five days--she'll have the bit between her teeth with such important news and important cargo." They had all agreed that publicly and now privately they would consider that coffin the tai-pan's. "The mail ship will average eight knots if she's lucky so she'll take the usual ten odd days. By the time I got there the funeral will have been done, Tess will know everything from dozens of different points of view--my report's aboard, so is Sir William's and fifty others no doubt. She's dismissed me at the end of month and the new fellow arrives in a few days and I was told to show him the ropes." Then there were reasons he decided not to say aloud: he should be canvassing other hongs-- as the major companies were sometimes called--for a job. The only real, suitable job available and up to his experience and surely on offer would be Brock and Sons. Then he had to decide about Maureen, and then there was Nemi. He smiled at Angelique sadly. "It adds up to, no reason to go, doesn't it?"

She hugged his arm, oblivious of those passing.

"I'm glad. I won't feel lonely if you're here."

"Jamie!" Phillip Tyrer had called out from the British Legation doorway, hastily putting on his top coat and hat, hurrying towards them. "'evening Angelique, Jamie," he said in an uneasy rush, "Sir William's compliments would you two and the, the rest of the, the passengers and crew of the cutter kindly see him tomorrow morning before church, before you both board the mail ship? She sails at two o'clock now."

"For what purpose, Phillip?" Jamie said.

"I, I think he'd like to... dammit, oh excuse me, Angelique, obviously he'd like to ask what on earth you were doing."

"Doing?"

The young man sighed. "Sorry, old boy, it's not my idea. You're on the mat, I've delivered the message, that's all.

Don't pick on me, I'm just the nearest dogsbody."

They both laughed, tension leaving them. "Ten o'clock?"

"Thanks, Jamie, that should be plenty of time."

Tyrer looked down the way at the cutter.

"Looks as though you had a rough crossing, what on earth happened to the prow?"

Jamie glanced back. The damage was clearly visible under the lamp at the head of the jetty, and, he knew, easily observable with binoculars for miles from the Legation windows.

"Flotsam," he said readily. "A crate, what looked like a crate was washed aboard, then carried away again. No great problem."