Free Mean Sun by Gerry Garibaldi Page A

pale spill of light I beheld great walls of chests, so deep and tall that the rafters of the warehouse were obscured. Some of the stacks leaned precariously forward while others inclined listlessly to the sides. The chests were of every description and size. Some were made of oak, others mahogany and pine; some had plain faces while many bore the elaborate carvings of the ancient Orient. Flemish words were painted on every parcel.
    “What do they read, Wouk?” asked Hines.
    “Some spice, mostly tea,” declared Mr. Wouk, holding his lamp aloft. “That stack there are bolts of cloth and dyes.”
    “Tea? Dyes?” said Mr. Hines curiously. “Let’s ‘ave a look, boys.”
    Mr. Wouk and I slit the leather bindings of several of them as Mr. Hines lifted their lids, one after another, and inspected their contents.
    “Opium! Every one,” he declared, astonished. “There must be above a thousand chests here.”
    The second and third warehouses, though smaller, were equally crammed with the same dusty cargo.
    “Ships idle,” remarked Mr. Heath, “and enough opium here to fill every apothecary in Europe. What say you, Mr. Hines?”
    “I say they drive up the market price.”
    As silently as church mice we scurried back along the dock, past the feasting cur, toward the boat. As we reached the boat, Hines lifted the shutters on our lamp and held it aloft in a signal to the waiting boats. Within minutes they appeared out of the fog and settled quietly along the shore. Lieutenant Brooks stepped out of one of the boats.
    “Well?”
    “You can begin loading, sir,” replied Mr. Heath.
    Brooks signaled the others toward the warehouse, while my small crew withdrew to the ship.
    Upon our return I entered the Captain’s cabin again with several fresh bottles of port in my hands to find the captain and his guests in a merry exchange. Pipes were blazing and the room was as thick as the fog in the harbor.
    “You discovered the port, I see,” said the captain. “We were near run out.”
    “Aye, sir, with Mr. Heath’s assistance,” I replied subtly. “We have a rich supply, sir.”
    The captain took my meaning and smiled with every tooth shining, tipping his hand like a reckless schoolboy. This roused Lord Douglas from his torpor and he regarded the captain suspiciously.
    “Then we should be generous and make a fine gift to our Dutch friends,” said Hearne. “But first we must drain away what we can.”
    The banquet proceeded until the wee hours in games of whist. Two of our Dutch guests were growing blanched and laconic. One fellow’s head slid from his hand and like a cannon ball hit the table and rolled onto the forearm of his compatriot. This spurred riotous laughter and loud calls for port. I noted that, despite his devotion to his drink, the governor retained his good sense and lively engagement, as did Jacob Hearne.
    “Tell me, Captain,” asked the governor, “why don’t men like you and me have our own fleets? Why are we not scouring the world for profit? We should be monarchs in our own kingdoms, sir.”
    “We are both captives of our honor, Governor,” replied Hearne, offering a lamenting sigh. “And that is a rich kingdom indeed.”
    “And one that every pauper may enjoy,” countered the governor soberly.
    “I would wager, Governor Snyder, a man such as yourself would not trade away one pebble of your integrity for ill-gotten gain. You are not that man, sir!”
    “Nor you, Captain!” The governor paused here, midway into a salute. “But who has not thought of profit as one nears old age?”
    “Some do, I suppose, in frail moments. Tell me what’s on your mind, Governor,” said Hearne, with a clever, baiting grin.
    Governor Snyder reconnoitered his two companions cautiously.
    “I am well compensated by the Company, sir,” said he. “I merely propose that you and I trade useful information that might further our interests.”
    “And what useful information do you have to offer?” responded