"Go and find... ah, there he is, thought I saw him." One look at Sir William's face was enough to cause the crowd to fall silent and part for him instantly, all ears. "Pallidar, get the Dragoons, I want you to deliver a cordial communication to the Kanagawa Governor--at once."

"Tonight, sir?" Pallidar gaped at him, saw the expression on his face and added hastily, "Oh! Yessir, sorry sir, right away Sir." his'scuse me, Sir William," Tyrer said in a rush before Sir William could leave, "No time to tell you before but I helped two Japanese students aboard who wanted to travel, to visit England, they saved my life last night, hope that's all right."

"That they saved your life? I wonder." The eyes bored into him. "If you've turned travel agent on Her Majesty's time, I suppose there will be a satisfactory answer should I require one. Pallidar, arrive in strength in an hour and deliver my message rather rudely, by God!" He stalked off.

Pallidar blew his nose, his cold still bad.

"What the hell's up with him?" Tyrer leaned closer and told him about the ultimatum. "My God, no wonder. What bloody cheek!

Actually it's bloody good, now there'll be some action, all this hanging around inflames the General's neck along with his piles." He laughed, more from nervousness than the old chestnut.

At that moment, Hoag arrived puffing, still wearing his operating frock coat, the sleeves and chest stiff with ancient blood, and burdened with top hat, suitcases and packages. "I thought I was going to be late. What's the joke?"

"You've plenty of time," Tyrer said and, with Pallidar, wondered what was in Angelique's letter that Sir William had witnessed, and Hoag carried to Hong Kong in reply to the letter, also still a mystery, given to Angelique when Hoag was sure she was not bearing Malcolm's child. Since the first day Hoag had arrived back, the outlines of Tess's ultimatum were common knowledge and the subject of heated, private debate. "Hope you have a safe trip. It's India next, isn't it?"

"Yes, I'll be there next month." The ugly face split with a smile. "Can't wait, come and visit me, you'll love it."

Pallidar said, "India's my next posting, in fact I've just been told, the Frontier, Hindu Kush, Khyber Pass."

Though he spoke lightly Pallidar secretly hated the idea. Too many deaths in that special hell, too many killings, a bullet from nowhere, a dagger out of the night, wells poisoned, no glory there, only slog and kill and try to stay alive in that barren, festering rock landscape where nothing grew but death. And yet vital to the Empire, for there lay the historic invasion route to British India, for Mongol, Persian, or Russian hordes. A sick premonition swept through him and he could not resist adding, "No sea burials there, Doc."

"No, none, not at all," Hoag replied and, misreading him, put a warm, friendly arm on him. "You're a good fellow, Settry, if I can help in India I'm easy to find. You'll love it, good luck!" He strode off to greet Angelique and Gornt.

"What was that about?" Tyrer asked. He had noticed the sudden change in Pallidar.

Pallidar shrugged, cursing his anxiety and lapse and abrupt envy of Hoag. "Doc Hoag told me he doesn't like sea burials, said he was glad to miss Malcolm's in Hong Kong." He smiled crookedly. After he had reported to Sir William about Hoag's curious behavior over the coffins at Kanagawa that the Sergeant had witnessed, on instructions and sworn to secrecy, unobserved he had switched the coffins after checking them. No difference between them that he could see. So the coffin sent by Prancing Cloud to Hong Kong had contained Malcolm Struan and the one Hoag, Angelique, Jamie and Skye had buried was that of the villager, as Sir William had ordered.

"Pity Malcolm got chopped," he said, his voice raw. "Life's curious, eh? You never know when it'll happen."

Tyrer nodded, Pallidar's depression unusual. Liking him, his own guard slid away. "What's up, old man?"

"Nothing. You were bloody lucky last night, weren't you, getting out of--"

Shadows rushed over Tyrer's face and Pallidar swore at himself for his stupidity.

"Sorry, Phillip. Didn't mean to upset you, don't know what's got into me tonight."

"You heard about... about..."

For the life of him Tyrer could not say Fujiko's name, his grief scalding, driving him down in quantum depths where he had never been before. His mouth said, trying to sound brave, "When something like that, something awful happens, my Old Man used to... I had a sister who got measles and died when she was seven, such a pretty little girl we all loved... my Old Man always used to say, "These things are sent to try us.

You cry and cry and... and you pick yourself up and say it was God's will and try not to hate Him."

He felt the tears running down his cheeks and did not care. His feet took him away down to the shore and there, alone with the surf and the sky and the night, he thought about Fujiko truly, remembering her with all his passion, then put her into a little box and put the box safe beside his heart.

Aboard Atlanta Belle Captain Twomast was saying, "All right, Jamie, I'll give them passage, whatever Mrs.Struan decides, but you know her, she's not given to largess."

"Just give her my letter when you arrive Hong Kong." Jamie had told Twomast the truth about Otami and his cousin, not wanting to get his friend into trouble, and had gone surety for their passage money, there and back, if Tess did not agree to his proposal: to advance it to them, with prudent introductions in England and Scotland-- against a fifty-fifty joint venture he would form and run to take advantage of anything he could create from them on their return.

He had written: I know it's a long shot, Mrs. Struan, but Otami is as smart as they come, well connected as far as I can ascertain and represents the future in Nippon. Should you not agree, please take their passage money out of the most generous golden gift you have given me. In the meantime Albert MacStruan is doing well, your property and buildings here were untouched in the fire, and all is poised for a good future--I will continue to help if he asks. Last, may I say be careful of Brock's new manager, Edward Gornt. He's a good, brave man but a dangerous rival.

"This is going to be expensive, Jamie,"

Twomast said. He was a lean, short, hard-faced seaman, with dark hair and brown eyes and leathery skin. "At least a hundred pounds.

Is it worth the risk?"

"It's her ship, passage costs her nothing."

"It's still expensive and she looks after the pence as well as the pounds. Never mind, it's up to her.

I'll cash your sight draft in London town if she doesn't foot the bill. You're sure your Jappos understand they're to obey me?"

"Yes. I've told them that on board you're king, a daimyo. They're to obey you and stay aboard until you disembark them in London. But Johnny, treat them like nobs. You'll be rewarded."

Twomast laughed. "Yes, but in heaven. Never mind, I owe you one or two over the years past so I'll do it."

"Thanks." Jamie looked around the cabin.

Small, a bunk, chart table, table to seat four, neat, tough, seaworthy--like Johnny Twomast, originally Norwegian, and a cousin of Sven Orlov, the hunchback, who was Master of the Struan fleet after Dirk Struan.

Atlanta Belle, a thousand-ton merchant steamer, could sleep four first-class passengers, ten second, fifty steerage with room for substantial cargo. "Where will they bunk?"

"With the crew, where else?"

"Can you give them a cabin, don't mind how small."

"We've a full house and they'll learn fast with the crew, learn our ways, have to."

"Give them a cabin at least until after Hong Kong, I don't want either recognized."

Johnny Twomast said, "They can have the Third Mate's cabin, it's got two bunks. Are they armed, Jamie?"