Gai-Jin Read Free

hats and riding clothes, and were the envy of every man in the Settlement: one hundred and seventeen resident Europeans, diplomats, traders, butchers, shopkeepers, blacksmiths, shipwrights, armorers, adventurers, gamblers and many ne’er-do-wells and remittance men, most of them British, the clerks Eurasian or Chinese, a few Americans, French, Dutch, Germans, Russians, Australians and one Swiss; and amongst them three women, all matrons, two British, wives of traders, the last a madam in Drunk Town, as the low-class quarter was called. No children. Fifty to sixty Chinese servants.
    John Canterbury, a good-looking, craggy-faced British trader acted as their guide. The purpose of the excursion was to show Phillip Tyrer the way by land to Kanagawa, where meetings with Japanese officials took place from time to time; it was well within the agreed Settlement area. Tyrer, just twenty-one, had arrived yesterday from London via Peking and Shanghai, a newly appointed student interpreter to the British Legation.
    This morning, overhearing the two of them in the Club, Malcolm Struan had said, “May I come along, Mr. Canterbury, Mr. Tyrer? It’s a perfect day for sightseeing; I’d like to ask Miss Richaud to join us—she hasn’t seen any of the country yet.”
    “We’d be honored, Mr. Struan.” Canterbury was blessing his luck. “You’re both welcome. The ride’s good though there’s not much to see—for a lady.”
    “Eh?” Tyrer had said.
    “Kanagawa’s been a busy post village and stopover place for travellers to and from Yedo for centuries, so we’re told. It’s well stocked with Teahouses, that’s what most brothels are called here. Some of them are well worth a visit, though we’re not always welcome like at our own Yoshiwara across the swamp.”
    “Whorehouses?” Tyrer had said.
    The other two had laughed at his look. “The very same, Mr. Tyrer,” Canterbury had said. “But they’re not like the doss houses or brothels in London, or anywhere else in the world; they’re special. You’ll soon find out, though here the custom is to have your own doxy, if you can afford it.”
    “I’ll never be able to do that,” Tyrer said.
    Canterbury laughed. “Maybe you will. Thank God the rate of exchange favors us, oh my word! That old Yankee Townsend Harris was a canny bastard.” He beamed at the thought. Harris was the first American Consul-General appointed two years after Commodore Perry had forced the opening of Japan to the outside world, first in ’53, then ’56 with his four Black Ships—the first steamers seen in Japanese waters. Four years ago, after years of negotiating, Harris arranged Treaties later ratified by major Powers that granted access to certain ports. The Treaties also fixed a very favorable rate of exchange between silver Mex—Mexican silver dollars, the universal coin of exchange and trade in Asia—and Japanese gold
oban
, whereby if you changed Mex for
oban
and later exchanged them for Mex, you could double or triple your money.
    “An early lunch, then off we go,” Canterbury said. “We’ll be back in good time for supper, Mr. Struan.”
    “Excellent. Perhaps you’d both join me in our company dining room? I’m giving a small party for Mademoiselle Richaud.”
    “Thank you kindly. I trust the tai-pan’s better?”
    “Yes, much better, my father’s quite recovered.”
    That’s not what we heard in yesterday’s mails, John Canterbury had thought worriedly, for what affected the Noble House—the nickname by which Struan and Company was known the world over—affected them all. Rumor is your old man’s had another stroke. Joss. Never mind, it’s not often a man like me gets the chance to chat to a real tai-pan-to-be, or an angel like her. This’s going to be a great day!
    And once en route, he became even more affable. “Oh, Mr. Struan, you … are you staying long?”
    “Another week or so, then home to Hong Kong.” Struan was the tallest and strongest of the three.