Tommo & Hawk (76 page)

Tang Wing Hung rises, bowing very slightly. 'It's good plan - but what do you ask of me?'

'You must tell Mr Sparrow that you have bought all the betting tickets belonging to your own people and also all those belonging to the folks in the Rocks. Now you want full payment. Six thousand pounds in the next forty-eight hours.'

'And if he will not?'

'Then you will kill him!' Mary says.

'I cannot!'

'You don't have to do it, just say it!' Mary explains. She pauses and plays the ace in her hand. 'If the head of a Chinese triad should threaten Mr Sparrow, then he will believe he will die - and it ain't no use reporting nothing!'

Tang Wing Hung draws back in surprise. 'Where you hear about triad? I am businessman, madam.'

'It don't much matter to me what you calls yourself, Mr Tang Wing Hung. You're the boss of the Mongolians, ain't you?'

'I have a little influence maybe. Most Chinese come from same place as me, they know me.' Tang Wing Hung shrugs.

'So where does that leave us, then?' Mary asks bluntly enough.

Tang Wing Hung pauses. 'I will do it,' he says at last.

Mary smiles and so do the rest of us.

The Dragon Master raises a forefinger. 'But I do it because the Chinese owe your sons.' He gives a little nod to me and then to Tommo. 'For Lambing Flat when they help my people. They are brave men and so we will do this thing.'

Out of the corner of my eye I see Tommo squirm in his chair a little at Tang Wing Hung's thanks, but I do not look at him. We had been worried that Tommo might be banned from Tang Wing Hung's opium den on our return from the fight, the Chinaman being in cahoots with Mr Sparrow. Now I understand why this was not so. It seems the story of how Tommo and I rescued Ah Wong and his family is known among the Chinese of Sydney.

Tang Wing Hung pauses, then returns to the subject at hand. 'Not six thousand pounds, ten thousand pounds. We will demand ten!' He claps his hands and then bows to Mary, deeper this time. 'What is left we share.' Tang Wing Hung works a large gold ring from his finger. 'Here, you take.' He hands the heavy gold ring to Mary. 'It is a gift given to me by Mr Sparrow. Give it to him. Tell him it is returned - our partnership is broken forever. Tell him he must pay or he will die.' He grins. 'Mr Sparrow will understand.'

'But will you not tell him yourself?' Maggie asks.

Tang Wing Hung sighs. 'I cannot be seen to go near Mr Sparrow. There may be those who think I am still in business with him. No, no, you must go in my place.'

'I will then.' Mary puts the gold ring into her purse. 'It's been very nice doin' business with you, Mr Tang Wing Hung.' She pauses, thinking. 'But I need one more thing. I need a letter from you to Mr Sparrow to put the wind up him.'

'No, no, you do not understand. No letter. I cannot make threat to him!'

Mary laughs. 'You don't have to. All I wants is a letter written in Chinese. You can make it one of them poems by that bloke Confucius that Hawk's always quoting. Anything you like, so long as it's written in Chinese letters and sealed with wax and a chop - any chop. Then on the envelope you must put Mr Sparrow's name in Chinese and English.'

Tang Wing Hung smiles and bows his head. 'Very clever. Mr Sparrow, he cannot read Chinese, and he will think this message a threat? Very clever! You give him ring and letter!' He claps his hands and the servant appears. He speaks to him in rapid Chinese and the man nods and is gone.

'You will have such a letter in half an hour. And I will make sure no Chinaman tell him what it means. You wait here, please. Drink tea? I must go now, thank you very much.'

Mary has managed Tang Wing Hung wonderfully. She has shown him how to avoid losing face in front of his own people and convinced him to serve our purpose as well. And it will not cost him a penny other than the gold ring. I am most proud of our mama.

'How do we know the bludger will come good, give us our share of the brass if Mr Sparrow pays?' Maggie asks as we make our way back to the Hero, where Mary has promised to buy us supper.

'Face,' Tommo says. 'He'll lose face if he don't.'

Mary sniffs. 'I don't know about face, but I know about business and so does our Mr Tang Wing Hung. We've just got Mr Dragon Master off the hook. We've made him look like the hero of Sydney's Chinese and he'll make a tidy profit to boot.'

Mary has clearly taken charge as the general of our campaign and means to see that the folks in the Rocks and Chinatown get their bets returned in full. Over the next two days, she sends Maggie around to all the pubs to ask the publicans to chalk up the amounts their customers show them on their old betting tickets. Soon we know that we'll have more than sufficient to cover the money bet.

Mary decides that the best way to get to Mr Sparrow is to see him herself. 'It's our best bet,' she announces. 'A woman's hard to deny and thought to be harmless. If I says I've been sent from Mr Tang Wing Hung and have proof,' she holds up the gold ring, 'Sparrer can't refuse me.'

'May I come too, Mama?' Maggie begs.

Mary smiles and nods. She's pleased when Maggie calls her mama. 'I want to see Mr Sparrow's ratty little phiz when he sees it's us what's got him well and truly nailed!'

'When will you go?' Tommo asks. 'Now?'

'No, first we must scare him somewhat, I think!' Mary turns to Maggie. 'Do you think you can get folks here to march on the pub and shout a bit? Make our Mr Sparrow fear for his miserable carcass? It'd be a way of softenin' him up.'

'Daresay I can,' Maggie says. 'The pleasure would be all mine!' She giggles with anticipation.

But both she and Mary draw the line when I say I'll go with her. Mary shakes her head, 'No, son, you and Tommo must stay well clear! If this business should end badly, the magistrate mustn't see it as an act of vengeance, with us taking the law into our own hands. Maggie be the ideal person to spread the word and she's happy to do it.'

'Happy ain't the word!' Maggie exclaims. 'I'd count it a great privilege to give them two mongrels a fright!'

Our mama has thought of every detail. 'Pick four strong leaders, men what won't lose their heads and start a riot,' she instructs Maggie. 'No stones or clubs, mind you - just drums, bull-horns and bugles. They're to make a lot of noise. Remember, this be a protest, an orderly but very noisy protest. The Sydney Morning Herald must describe it as an outcry by common folk what's been cheated out of what's rightly due them by a pair o' scoundrels.'

Mary now turns to me. 'See that the police are informed of the march so they're on hand when the mob arrives at The World Turned Upside Down. We don't want any in the crowd to get no fancy ideas of storming young Sparrer Fart's lodgings.'

Maggie is delighted with the task she's been given. That very night, she visits the Hero of Waterloo, the Rose and Crown and half a dozen other public houses. By the time she returns home, the march against Mr Sparrow is all set.

'Folk are only too happy to make their feelings known,' she tells me.

The protest is to take place the following afternoon when the men come home from work.

'We'll put some real fear into them upstairs. Make the little shyster and his fat mate think the mob's come to get 'em!' Mary laughs when she hears Maggie's news. I can't help feeling she is enjoying the whole campaign.

*

By the following afternoon the news has spread throughout the Rocks and three or four hundred men march on The World Turned Upside Down. Here they are met by three constables who tell them that Mr Sparrow and Fat Fred are not in residence in the rooms upstairs. Nevertheless the crowd makes a great deal of noise, banging on drums and blasting on bugles. Towards the end a rock is thrown which breaks one of the upstairs windows. But the protest is, in fact, quite orderly. Maggie has picked her leaders well -there's noise and threats enough hurled at the windows to frighten Mr Sparrow and Fat Fred, who we know are in residence no matter what the policemen say.

Mary and Maggie have Tang Wing Hung's ring and sealed letter with its beautiful Chinese characters and F. Artie Sparrow Esq. written on the envelope. As the protesters slowly drift away, they prepare to confront the villains.

Tommo and I wait downstairs in the saloon bar of the pub which has just this minute opened its doors once again. Tommo insists on wearing his axe in a shoulder holster under his jacket. These days the barmaid, Doreen, welcomes him like he's an honoured guest, bringing him a Cape brandy without his even asking. I order a glass of best ale and she does a sort of curtsy. 'Honoured ter serve ya, Mr Black Hawk,' she says, all smiles. Mr Sparrow has clearly lost the sympathy of the staff here as well.

At first the three Sydney lads guarding Mr Sparrow's staircase won't allow Maggie and Mary into the corridor that leads upstairs. Maggie kicks up a bit of a fuss and one of them goes leaping up the stairs. Soon he returns with a hulking lad in tow. This one has a runny nose and an ugly, festering scar down the length of his cheek. The newcomer sniffs and folds his arms across his chest.

'What's yiz want?' he says to Mary, as Tommo and I wait at the ready in the saloon.

'How'd you get yours?' Mary asks.

'Me what?'

Mary runs her finger down the red line on her own face. 'Your scar. Were you cut by a villain too, acid thrown in after?'

The boy looks impressed. 'Nah, just a fight. Weren't nothin' much.' He begins to pick absently at the weeping scab.

'Don't pick at it, lad. Give it a chance to heal itself, won't show so bad then,' Mary advises gently.

'Don't much care if it do, missus,' the lad grunts.

'Hey, I knows ya!' Maggie exclaims, pointing at him. 'Johnny Terrible! Yiz got a brother and sister, both little uns, twins ain't they?'

Johnny Terrible nods.

'They comes to our roast dinner on Sunday. One of 'em, the little girl - Alice ain't it? - once gimme sixpence for her dinner though we never asked. She said ya told her t' give it t' me!'

Johnny Terrible gives a little half-smile, and Maggie can tell he's pleased to be recognised. 'Want ter see Mr Sparrer, does yer?' he now asks.

'The very same,' Maggie grins.

'What fer?'

'Business that's to his benefit. Tang Wing Hung's sent us,' Mary says.

Johnny Terrible gives a deep sniff and wipes his hand under his nose. 'Tang Wing Hung? What proof's ya got yiz from him?'

Mary shows him the ring and holds up the letter with the Chinese characters. The boy takes the ring and looks at it.

'See what it says inside,' Maggie urges, then recites from memory, '"To Tang Wing Hung in sincere friendship, F. Artie Sparrow".'

'He won't see yiz anyway. He's in the wardrobe,' Johnny Terrible says, handing Mary back the ring.

'In the wardrobe? What's you mean?' Maggie asks.

'It be the riots, he's gorn panicky.'

'Does he often go into the wardrobe?' Mary enquires.

'He's took it up since the fight. Spent four days in there when he got back from Yass!'

'What about Fat Fred?' Maggie asks.

'He's drunk, shickered. Drinks a gallon of Portugee port 'fore noon each day, cryin' all the while that it weren't his fault, and that he only done what he were told. He'll be no good ter ya, Miss Pye.'

'Call me Maggie, darlin',' Maggie smiles.

'Well then, we'll just have to see Mr Sparrow in his wardrobe,' says Mary.

'Easier said than done, missus.' Johnny Terrible snorts deeply and makes a loud noise sucking the phlegm down his throat. 'He's got the lock put wrong way round so he's got the key on the inside. Locks hisself in.'

'Can he hear ya when ya talks?' Maggie asks.

'Depends if he wants ter. Don't rate yer chances. Sometimes he hears but he don't talk to no one 'cept me. Reckon I'm the only one what can figure out what he's sayin'. But yiz can try.' Johnny Terrible brings two fingers to his lips and gives a sharp whistle. Three scruffy heads pop around the top of the banister. 'Take the ladies to see Mr Sparrow,' he orders.

'Ta, muchly,' Maggie says, giving Johnny Terrible a kiss on his dirty face. The three Sydney lads on guard laugh. 'Shut yer gobs!' Johnny Terrible snarls and they are immediately quiet.

'Extra 'elping comin' to ya little brother and sister on Sunday, Johnny,' Maggie promises. 'Come down yerself and I'll put some iodine on yer cut, do ya the world.'

They are halfway up the stairs when Johnny Terrible shouts, 'Eh, Maggie, is it true yiz gunna marry the nigger?'

Maggie turns and looks down at him. 'What if I am? What's it to you, Johnny Terrible?'

'Nuffink,' he sniffs. 'I think yiz done good. He be a great champion, the strongest man in the world.'

'You don't want t' believe all ya hears,' Maggie retorts. ‘I can beat him up anytime I likes!'

What follows we hear from Maggie and Mary once we're back at the Hero of Waterloo. The two young lads make a great fuss of unlocking the stout door that leads to Mr Sparrow's lodgings, then ushers them into a parlour fitted with a red and blue carpet of Chinese design that covers most of the floor.

The room has two tall windows facing onto the street -one of them with a broken pane. The windows are draped with maroon velvet curtains, somewhat dusty, with tassels tied at the centre. It's clear that the drapes haven't been drawn in a long time. Indeed the windows seem the only source of light in the room as there are no gas lights and only two empty lantern brackets on the wall. Against the wall opposite the windows is a large, double-winged cedar wardrobe. But what first catches Maggie and Mary's eye is a long, horsehair leather settee, badly scuffed and worn in several places, that sits in the centre of the carpet.

Laid out upon its leather upholstery, so that in some places its worn springs nearly touch the ground from the weight of him, lies Fat Fred. He is heaving and snorting, his great belly making rumbling noises like a small volcano preparing to blast its contents out into the firmament. Six boys aged between ten and twelve all sit cross-legged on the carpet before him, playing cribbage. They jump up when the two women enter.

Mary and Maggie can't tear their eyes away from the supine form of Fat Fred. Though it seems hardly possible, the man has grown even fatter in the weeks since the fight. Little bubbles of snot come out of his nostrils. He wears only a pair of black Chinese silk trousers which are very dirty, and his huge, hairy stomach dominates the room.