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by their surnames as their names were difficult to remember.
    What about Han? God bless the Virgin Mary, why not? The man’s timetables were always neat, precise, and accurate. There were no complaints about him; he was a fair and loyal worker. Better yet, he spoke Japanese, Korean, a little Filipino and Chinese.
    Patrick wondered if he could arrange it so the owners in Honolulu wouldn’t know. Or care. Hoffman, the German engineer who ran the mills, had defied the rules by marrying a Japanese girl so he wouldn’t go around telling stories Ryan, his assistant manager, was a loyal Irishman he had picked off the ships and promoted rapidly. Miles, the unmarried bookkeeper in his forties kept to himself. If discovered, he could point out he was paying Han less than a white man which profited the Ritchies. Patrick made up his mind and called out, “Han.”
    Han walked over to him, eyes squinting in the sun. “You call, Boss Man?”
    Patrick nodded. “I need a new boss luna . You interested? I’ll give you one month. You do good job, you be boss luna all the time.” Patrick spoke as one with Han.
    “Me? Boss luna ? No Yobo boss luna . Boss luna all the time haoles . Sometime Portugee.” Han rubbed his chin. “You make me boss luna , no joke?”
    Patrick laughed. “What’s the matter, Han? Don’t you think you can be number one luna ?”
    “If me be boss luna, me be numbah one best boss luna . Han promise.”
    “I don’t doubt that Han.” Patrick kicked his horse and trotted away, pleased at the way he handled his problem.

Chapter Four
     
    The night air cooled the embers left from the burning cane earlier in the day. Chaul Roong heard the rustling of the palm leaves as the trade winds whispered through them, gentle and soft like a child’s kiss. The moon slung low in the velvet blue-black sky with gray, gossamer clouds drifting through its silver crescent shape.
    “ Yobo .” Tae Ja’s whisper could barely be heard. If she  hadn’t touched him lightly at the same time, he might not have been aware of her presence.
    Turning, he answered, calling her by name, “Tae Ja,” and offered his hands palms up. She took them in hers and knelt beside him, kissing his fingers. He felt warm tears sliding down her cheeks. “What’s the matter, Tae Ja?” he asked.
    Tae Ja lowered her eyes and Han traced the delicate lines of her face with his forefinger. It was hard to believe almost three years had gone by since the first day he saw her standing in the waiting room of the pier. His desire for her had grown through the years. Tae Ja was his connection to the universe. He found his balance, his peace, his harmony, and his inner calmness with her.
    “ Yobo ,” Tae Ja raised eyes glittering with tears, “I’m going to have a baby.”
    His heart raced. A child by Tae Ja would be everything he hoped for. Then his heart constricted at the thought the child might not be his.
    “The child is yours.” She lowered her eyes to her hands.
    Chaul Roong caressed her cheek before stepping back. Clasping his hands behind him, he gazed at the stars. In loving her, he had given up everything he believed in. He had sacrificed honor, trust, friendship and loyalty—four of the tenets of the Hwarang warrior—in order to attain happiness. Yet he knew he would sacrifice it all again just to feel the joy he felt when he was with her. He looked back at Tae Ja. There was so much he wanted to say, but he found himself unable to speak.
    She took his hand in her trembling one and smiled. “Now I will always have a part of you with me, this child of love. It doesn’t matter if there is no tomorrow for you and me. I will always have our child.”
    Chaul Roong gathered her in his arms. Stroking her hair, he murmured, “I love you. Life is cruel, but I have been blessed above all men because you love me.”
     
    Tae Ja gave birth to a son. Bok Nam named him Chong Bong Sik. But the birth certificate received a year later read “Charles Bong