The Concubine's Daughter (30 page)

Li was delighted to take a rickshaw instead of the car and its venomous driver.

“I thought it would be best if we made no great noise about this evening together,” Ben said. “It is no one’s business but our own, but I know that others watch and listen and play with the truth like dice.”

His words surprised and pleased her, as though her concerns were not the great secret she had thought them to be. He seemed to read her thoughts as the
slap
,
slap
of the runner’s feet took them steadily down toward the lights of the Praia. The setting sun had dropped below the horizon, the sky turned deep violet, pricked by early stars, the yellow light of the rickshaw’s lamps fluttering on each side of the folded canopy. She felt him smiling at her with quiet approval.

“I have lived a long time in your country, and have discovered that the less you appear to understand, the more you are likely to learn. It is the only way for a barbarian to succeed.”

The sway of the rickshaw, open to a clean sea breeze, seemed to Li to be that of a splendid palanquin, briefly recalling the donkey cart of Giant Yun on the homeward run from the mulberry groves. She wanted to tell him so, to speak freely of the mat hut beneath the willows and the little family she had left behind.

When they reached the waterfront, the lights of Sky House could still be seen high on the promontory, a yellow moon balanced on its gabled roof. The rickshaw pulled off the road and onto the rattling boards of an old jetty, stopping beside the vast hulk of a junk made fast to its iron bollards by creaking coir ropes, permanently moored to great plinths of stone.

Well beyond the reach of the Praia’s bright lights, the wharf was dimly lit by smoky lanterns salvaged from ships long gone. Pitch torches threw distorted shadows as Ben took her arm to steer her safely up the rickety gangway to the deck.

“Welcome to the Palace of Fat Crabs.” Ben spoke its name with the
affection of an old and trusted friend as they stepped onto the deck. Glowing candles stood in conch shells on the upturned oyster butts and wine casks that served as tables, occupied by men and women who clearly earned their living from the sea. They were roughly dressed as though they had come straight from a working boat; they cracked big crab claws and snapped spiny legs, sucking out the chunks of succulent flesh with an air of abandon more suited to the
mung-cha-cha
than the Bella Vista. Others were busy over steamed and deep-fried fish taken live from bubbling tanks, spitting bones onto the deck, or swallowing fat oysters, tossing the shells over the side. Ben grinned happily. “I did not think this would be Miss Bramble’s cup of tea, although I think she would approve of its ethics.”

Playing cards were slapped down and dice rattled over jugs of sangria and beer. Li saw that there were foreigners among the junk captains and Hokklo fisherfolk, some escorting young and pretty Chinese girls. “They have the best and freshest chili crab this side of Singapore. Only people of goodwill eat here—Portuguese, Macanese, Spaniards, even French and English. The Chinese who share their pleasure are old friends. You can speak freely; all eyes are on the feast before them, all ears on tall stories and talk of the sea.”

As he led her by the hand through the colorful throng, many of the rowdy company greeted Ben by name, some standing to slap his back or offering bawdy compliments on his choice of companion. When they were seated in a more private spot in the junk’s prow, separated by a cordon of fancy rope work, Ben spread his arms wide and breathed in deeply the mild salt air.

“There is no better smell than fat Macao crab fresh from the trap, sizzling in black-bean sauce with just the right mixture of chili and shallots.” He sat back, looking about him and beaming with pleasure. “We are among friends here. No tablecloths, no menus, no silverware, no crystal, and no treachery.” His merriment briefly subsided, replaced by a quiet sincerity. “Yes, I heard much of what was said last night, but I have learned that to confront such mindless villainy is to create a scene that is so much worse it is unwise to try. Such cowards will always deny their
insult … it is always the barbarian who has misunderstood and the female is always to blame.” He grinned suddenly. “It is why I never reveal how much Cantonese I speak and understand. You will be pleased to know that I am an old friend of the proprietor. I spoke to him when Winifred was safely in the car, and those who were responsible are no longer employed at the Bella Vista, nor will they find work in any such establishment.”

He reached across to cover her hand with his, warm and comforting. “I am sorry to have allowed such a thing … but something told me you could deal with the situation. I had to know, for it will always surround us.” With perfect timing that broke the somber moment, the Portuguese proprietor descended upon them to greet Ben like a lost brother.

“This is my dear, fat friend Alonzo,” Ben said. “I would trust him with my life but not my woman.” Alonzo bowed to Li and kissed her hand with a gallant flourish, congratulating Ben on his excellent taste in females, then bustled off to the galley—to return, it seemed to Li, moments later, bearing a vast, sizzling platter of seafood, followed by a boy carrying a huge wooden bowl of fresh greens and a basket of bread. The platters were plonked down in front of them without ceremony.

“Macao mudcrab, local shrimp and lobster, mangrove oysters from Heng Quin Island, Basque salad as they make it in the mountains. Welcome to the Palace of Fat Crabs, all fresh from the sea only moments ago.” The bitter memory of the opulent dining room, with its glittering chandeliers and vicious undercurrent of resentment and ridicule, was quickly banished as Ben offered a pile of steaming-hot hand towels.

“Eating crab with your bare hands is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Most of all, it does not allow pretense; even an emperor becomes a fisherman when there is a crab claw in his hand. We have much to talk about, but first we shall eat. Let me show you—I am an expert at this.”

With great gusto, Ben set about the task of destroying crab, lobster, shrimp, and seafoods of every description—separating the shell, scooping out the orange roe, cracking the claws, and snapping the legs, extracting delicious morsels of flesh and placing them before her. His genuine pleasure was all-embracing, and Li felt herself caught up in his enjoyment.

“The best part of eating here is that table manners are unheard of; the more mess we make, the happier our host will be. You may spit unwanted shell upon the deck and belch to your heart’s content, and he will bring you more.” Ben proceeded to demonstrate this and urged her to do the same. Their hands and mouths were wiped from a pile of damp cloths immediately replaced, remnants of the feast tossed away to be eaten by well-fed cats that prowled beneath the tables or the ever-watchful gulls riding the ebbing tide.

Time passed unnoticed as he spoke freely of his youth. “I wish you to know the truth of Di-Fo-Lo the baby-eater, great taipan of the Double Dragon—who started as an unwanted boy with only the threat of danger and the flame of hope to keep him company. I see in you that same flame.

“I am of mixed blood, the son of a Chinese mother whom I never knew. My father was a Breton master mariner who fled Shanghai after the Boxer Uprising. It was not fear of the Boxers that drove him out, but a blood feud that has left me with dangerous enemies to this day. My father died from the trade that made him rich … opium. He fled to save me. I was little more than a newborn. When they killed my mother, burned his house, and took his business, there was little left for him to do.” When the table was cleared and a platter of quartered fruits set down with a fresh pot of Bo Lin tea, Ben said, “Forgive me; I have allowed enjoyment to loosen my tongue perhaps too much. It is time for me to listen. There is little you can ask of me that I cannot provide.” Li knew that this was the moment to speak of things that had barely left her mind since waking in his cabin aboard
Golden Sky
.

She began cautiously. “I am greatly honored to hear of things so close to a heart as brave as yours. To speak of my childhood would bring sadness over things I would rather forget. But there are also joys to be remembered.”

Li gazed steadily at his face. “Do you know the saying: ‘Bamboo door face bamboo door. Wooden door face wooden door. Golden door face golden door’?”

He nodded. “It means that we are from very different worlds and may
not suit each other. That one may seek what the other may shun. Peasant should marry peasant, merchant should marry merchant, nobleman should marry noblewoman.”

“Yes,” she said eagerly. “China is not kind to those of mixed blood. Alone, we face its dangers and learn how to survive. Together, we have other lives to care for than our own… . This is a different kind of courage. I do not know if I possess it.”

She raised her hand as he went to speak. “The world would not be kind to us or our children. Sometimes great mistakes are made in the name of loneliness, choices that once made cannot be undone.”

“I have never known this world to be kind,” Ben answered slowly, each word crafted for her ears alone. “I am proud to be Eurasian, a
jarp-jung
, as our children will be proud. We will teach them to fight for their heritage if they have to. Our ancestors will rejoice in their courage. Loneliness will never again enter our lives and no one will take away our right to love freely and with all our hearts.”

Ben spoke with such depth of feeling that Li did not hestitate to reply. “Then I will ask my questions without misunderstanding.” She sat up straight. “How many wives will you have?” She could see he resisted the urge to chuckle, but he answered seriously. “I will have only one wife. My children will have only one mother.” She nodded her acceptance. “How many concubines will you have?” Again, he would have smiled, but she looked so solemn that he shook his head with equal gravity. “I will have no concubines. That is not the way of this barbarian.” Li’s surprise showed in her eyes. “Then will you have the services of a mistress? How can one wife be enough for a man? How can you be sure that you will not grow tired of me?”

Ben’s answer was heartfelt as her questions. “If I tire of you, I will tire of living. There will be no mistress. Your health and happiness and that of our children will be all I ask.”

He smiled to lighten the solemnity of the moment. “Besides, sometimes I will be away. There will not be time to bore each other, only to count the moments until we are together again.”

Li’s growing smile was gone in an instant, her tone almost businesslike.
Her heart beat faster. These were the words of her future and her fortune. “Forgive me, Seal-Yeh, but I was not born to be a
tai-tai
, to visit the beauty parlor and play mah-jonng. I will be a strong wife and a good mother. But that is not enough. I must earn my place in the noble company as comprador of the Double Dragon. Only this will give me the true happiness we hope to share. I wish to sail with my husband, not wait with my eyes on a horizon I will never reach.”

“I would not question your wishes,” he said, “because I know they would be honest and considered with great care… .”

She did not give him time to finish. “If I do not give you sons but only daughters, what will you do with them?”

The question was so blunt, so much a part of her, he reached over to cover her hands with his. “I will love and protect them as I would my sons. I can imagine nothing more wonderful than the daughters of Lee Sheeah”—he grinned at the thought—“unless it be her sons.”

“Will a daughter learn to read and write beside her brothers? Will she be taught, by Miss Bramble perhaps, if the gods are with us?”

He held up his hand, almost afraid of how much this meant to her, again choosing his words as he had once chosen cards. “Both the sons and the daughters of Li Devereaux will be educated in the best schools and taught by the best tutors this world has to offer. This I solemnly pledge. Our daughters will be cherished in the eyes of their father; they will have the pride and dignity of their mother and the opportunities of a scholar.”

Li was silent for a moment, determined to leave nothing unspoken. “I do not know what love is,” she said at length. “Such a thing has never been shown to me… . But if love means giving you pleasure, this I believe I can promise. If it means bearing strong sons and daughters, learning skills that will build the prosperity of your clan, I will do so gladly, if the gods allow it. But love? I must understand love before I can promise it.” Her seriousness gave way to the shyest of smiles as he lifted his big hand to touch her cheek as gently as a smile.

“It is something that neither of us is familiar with. Perhaps we can discover it together,” Ben said with a tenderness that put her heart at rest.

“I must ask one final thing. If you still want me to be your
tai-tai
after this, I will be honored to cross your door.” Ben grinned his relief.

“You know you can ask me anything.” He would have left his chair to go to her if she had not raised a hand to stop him.

“You saved me from the river and the sentence of
sau-hai
. Now I must beg you to take me back where you found me.” With these words she produced a neatly folded, itemized list of words and figures. His pride in her mounted with every second that she spoke, explaining every line and digit, outlining a business proposition that left him speechless.

T
he crossing of the
ship
Golden Sky
from Macao to the mouth of the Pearl River was swift and smooth, the vessel leaning into the wind as gracefully as a great seabird. As the ship approached the silk mill of Ten Willows, Li’s heart quickened. This was a mission she had dreamed of a thousand times. Ben’s initial astonishment at her request had quickly turned to approval, giving her new confidence.

From the deck of
Golden Sky
, she could see the tiny figures of the
mui-mui
on the hill, busy as ants among the blue haze of the mulberry trees. In her mind she heard the floating notes of Garlic’s flute and the metallic whirring of cicadas, the jokes of Monkey Nut, and the unmistakable laugh of Little Pebble.