Tai-Pan by James Clavell

Struan ever catched him he’d send us his tongue.”
    “Along with his head. Fifty guineas says Struan’s got a man aboard us’n.”
    “A hundred says you’re wrong,” Thumb said. “Every man aboard’s a trusty!”
    “Better I never catched him alive afore thee, Nagrek.”
     
    “But why should he fly ‘Zenith’?” Robb was saying. “Of course we’d come aboard at once.”
    “I dinna ken,” Struan said. Zenith meant “Owner to come aboard—urgent.” He frowned at 
Thunder Cloud.
 Bosun McKay was out of earshot down the beach, waiting patiently.
    “You go aboard, Robb. Give Isaac my compliments and tell him to come ashore at once. Bring him to the valley.”
    “Why?”
    “Too many ears aboard. It might be very important.” Then he called out, “Bosun McKay!”
    “Aye, aye, sorr.” McKay hurried up to him.
    “Take Mr. Struan to 
Thunder Cloud.
 Then go over to my ship. Get a tent and a bed and my things. I’ll be staying ashore tonight.”
    “Aye, aye, sorr! Beggin’ your pardon, sorr,” Bosun McKay said awkwardly. “There’s a young lad. Ramsey. In H.M.S. 
Mermaid,
 Glessing’s ship. The Ramseys’re kin to the McKays. The first mate’s got it in for the poor lad. Thirty lashes yesterday and more t’morrer. He were press-ganged out o’ Glasgow.”
    “So?” Struan asked impatiently.
    “I heard, sorr,” the bosun said carefully, “he’d like a berth somewheres.”
    “God’s blood, are you simple in the head? We take no deserters aboard our ships. If we take one knowingly, we could lose our ship—and rightly!”
    “S’truth! I thought you might buy him out,” McKay said quickly, “seeing as how Capt’n Glessing’s a friend o’ yorn. My prize money’ll go to help, sorr. He’s a gud lad and he’ll jump ship if he’s nothing ahead.”
    “I’ll think about it.”
    “Thank you, sorr.” The bosun touched his forelock and scuttled away.
    “Robb, if you were Tai-Pan, what would you do?”
    “Pressed men are always dangerous and never to be trusted,” Robb said instantly. “So I’d never buy him out. And now I’d watch McKay. Perhaps McKay’s now Brock’s man and put up to it. I’d put McKay to the test. I’d get intermediaries—probably McKay as part of the test, and also an enemy of McKay’s—and string Ramsey along and never trust his information.”
    “You’ve told me what I’d do,” Struan said with a glint of humor. “I asked what you’d do.”
    “I’m not Tai-Pan, so it’s not my problem. If I was, I probably wouldn’t tell you anyway. Or I might tell you and then do the opposite. To test you.” Robb was glad that he could hate his brother from time to time. That made liking him so much greater.
    “Why’re you afraid, Robb?”
    “I’ll tell you in a year.” Robb walked after the bosun.
    For a time Struan mused about his brother and the future of The Noble House; then he picked up a bottle of brandy and began to walk along the cleft of rocks toward the valley.
    The ranks of the merchants were thinning and some were already leaving in their longboats. Others were still eating and drinking, and there were gusts of laughter at some who were dancing a drunken eightsome reel.
    “Sir!”
    Struan stopped and stared at the young marine. “Aye?”
    “I need your help, sir. Desperate,” Norden said, his eyes strange, his face gray.
    “What help?” Struan was grimly conscious of the marine’s side arm, a bayonet.
    “I’ve the pox—woman sickness. You can help. Give me the cure, sir. Anything, I’ll do anything.”
    “I’m no doctor, lad,” Struan said, the hairs on his neck rising. “Should you na be at your boat?”
    “You’ve had the same, sir. But you had the cure. All I wants is the cure. I’ll do anything.” Norden’s voice was a croak, and his lips were flecked with foam.
    “I’ve never had it, lad.” Struan noticed the master-at-arms starting toward them, calling out something that sounded like a name.
    “You’d