Chinese Whispers

by Andrew Wareham

  “Keep me informed about anything you hear in the next few days, Eskdale, if you can. I’m not asking you to break confidences, of course, but I might like to know if we can expect a ravening horde of Boxers to descend on Shanghai.”

  Magnus laughed and said he thought it unlikely.

  “Brought my lady here because the little I know says Shanghai is safe, sir. Peking ain’t.”

  Paymaster Lieutenant Empingham was not in his office, was off in the city ‘somewhere’. That translated as meeting informants in a safe house where they would not be seen in the company of foreigners.

  Mr Sia agreed that Shanghai was safe, wholeheartedly.

  “The Boxers are even now killing missionaries in Shantung, my lord. Some of the godmen have fled but at least two score have died, with their families. Many converts have been killed. Very many, perhaps tens of thousands. The ordinary people believe that the drought has been caused by the missionaries offending the Heavens. They are quite sure that to kill the godmen will return the rains. People here also believe that to be true and would like to see the godmen driven away and their converts all killed. Here, they will do nothing, for knowing just how big the gwailo guns are. Inland, there will be killings.”

  “Will there be trouble in the south?”

  “No, my lord. There have been a few of young men who have talked of the Boxers, as you call them, and have preached the Heavenly Fist and tried to teach the holy exercises. They have died, without exception. I suspect also that a number of young men who had no knowledge of the Society of the Harmonious Fist, as it is otherwise known, have died because they might have made trouble. There is a large reward offered for the names of those who might support revolution, and the payment has been made, as all of the peasants know. Few questions have been asked either, my lord. If you do not like the young man who wishes to court your daughter, then he may be removed profitably!”

  Magnus was not surprised to hear that.

  “What of the north, Mr Sia?”

  “There are Imperial generals who wish to use the revolutionaries, my lord. Who or how many, I do not know. They have not made their own minds up yet. Do not return to Peking, my lord, not if you can avoid it. Speak to your Captain Hawkins and tell him you should remain in contact with Lord Ping, which is best done on a ship.”

  “I doubt I can do that, Mr Sia.”

  “Perhaps it can be arranged, my lord.”

  If it could, Magnus would be pleased, but he did not like the implication that Lord Ping might be able to influence Admiral Seymour to such a degree.

  “Your Admiral is a good man, my lord. No doubt he is excellent with his ships. On land, he lacks discretion. It is easily possible to persuade him to one course of action rather than another, provided one is the first to bring him to a decision. Once his mind is made up, he will not change it. Was he to be told that you must be free to range the coast and the great rivers in pursuit of true information, then he might well find you a ship instead of returning you to Peking.”

  Magnus much wanted to be out of Peking, and even more wished to be in regular reach of Shanghai. He was also aware that he had already accepted too much from Ping’s hands. Yet another favour would place him even more deeply under obligation. Was the Admiralty at some future date to enquire of his relationship with Lord Ping, he would already need to lie; if he wanted a career in the Navy, then he might be well-advised to steer clear of Hanshan and its ruler.

  When had he ever taken the course of common sense?

  “I would much appreciate command of a ship, Mr Sia. A small cruiser would be suitable for my seniority.”

  Sia smiled his kindest and said that he could make no promises, and nor could Lord Ping. They would see what was to be done.

  He offered a reward to Magnus, for being good. For the while, he said, they were much of the opinion that the German Minister in Peking was in contact with certain of the empress’ generals and that he was encouraging them to rebel, to enthrone a new emperor, selected among themselves, and then to expel the bulk of the foreigners.

  “The Minister? Von Ketteler in person?”

  “Baron August Freiherr von Ketteler is the name that has been given to me. More than once, my lord. We believe he is attempting to use the opportunity of the Boxers to encourage the Imperial Army to come into an unofficial alliance with Germany.”

  It was, Magnus thought, possibly true, but he could not think why Lord Ping and Mr Sia should be so upset by such a plot. They were at a sufficient distance that they could wait as events in Peking unfolded. Was the plot to be successful, then they could declare their loyalty to the new order. If it failed, they could publicly behead the nearest German, as Lord Ping had done before. They could not lose directly…

  Indirectly, in the long run, they would not wish any foreign power to become the sole source of Western military might in China. Much of the freedom they currently enjoyed arose from their ability to play any one set of foreigners off against all the others. The British, as an example, had power in Hong Kong, but they were limited by the Americans and the Germans in Shanghai, and by the French to the south, and by all the Legations in Peking.

  Magnus broke the silence, realising he had been thinking for some minutes. Mr Sia was smiling benignly, glad to see his protege exercising his intellectual powers.

  “I shall inform Mr Empingham of this news, Mr Sia. May I attribute it?”

  “Most certainly, my lord. Please do. We must always be glad to express our kindness for the greatest of Empires.”

  Magnus bowed.

  “I shall also inform Mr Blantyre of your goodness to me, Mr Sia. He is aware of your essential amity already, of course.”

  Mr Sia bowed in his turn and then enquired after Lady Eskdale’s health, much hoping that she was keeping well in her current condition.

  Magnus thanked him gravely, not pointing out that there had been no public mention of the pregnancy. It had been obvious that there would be informants in Magnus’ household staff, and in Blantyres’ offices, but it was almost ill-mannered to let their existence be acknowledged. He wondered why Mr Sia might have done so.

  He mentioned his concern to Blantyre later in the day.

  “A reminder, I must expect, that there will be others present, probably reporting to the Germans as well as the Qing.”

  “Of course – a hint to keep our mouths shut about von Ketteler, except where all is safe.”

  “Just so, my lord. Do you think the information is true?”

  “Who knows, sir? I doubt it is sufficiently important to risk my standing with Captain Hawkins. When Lord Ping decides to use me to feed a lie to Britain, then it will be a very big falsehood, one on which the future of China will turn. I think – and hope – that I am too valuable to him to be casually thrown away. I am inclined to believe them this time – Ketteler just ain’t big enough. I shall tell Empingham and he will pass it up the chain, or so I expect.”

  Blantyre was not entirely reassured, but he thought the risk was not too great.

  “What’s this about a ship, my lord?”

  “Better a small cruiser than to be stuck in Peking, sir. I don’t fancy sitting behind the Tartar Wall and hoping while the Boxers and the Imperial Army mount a siege and the Great Moustachio plays at being China Gordon. It could too easily be another Khartoum, you know.”

  “Admiral Seymour will come to their rescue, my lord.”

  “No doubt, sir. He will wish to, that’s for sure. If it’s just the Boxers, I expect he will be able to. Add in the Imperial Army – which has some guns and a few good gunners too – and he might find the task too much for the forces he has to hand. As it is, too many of our spare ships and men have been sent off to South Africa to fight the Boers. I would not be surprised if that was in von Ketteler’s mind, you know – making hay here in China while the bulk of our forces are engaged elsewhere. I’ll talk to Empingham about that.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Earl’s Other Son Series
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br />   Chinese Whispers

  “Good to see you, Mr Empingham!”

  The young Paymaster Lieutenant made all the appropriate noises of greeting, welcoming Magnus into his office and showing signs of actual pleasure in seeing him again.

  “This Lakeham business, my lord. Put the Americans in their place for the while. Left them much obliged to us – having to admit that they could not protect their own people and needing to beg us to come to their rescue. Does them no end of good to be slapped down once in a while. Getting too big for their boots, the Yankees! Hear the same all over, you know, the Americans thinking they have the right to raise their voices in the company of their betters!”

  Magnus was a little surprised by Empingham’s attitude, by the clear resentment in his voice.

  “Glad to hear I could be of service, Empingham. Purely fortuitous, of course. They have one of their Marine chappies, Hall by name, who ain’t quite up to scratch. Not the sort who fancies standing up to armed Chinks. He let them down. Result was, we had to go or the local Chinks would have got away with killing off a whole mission scot free. Couldn’t have that – and they didn’t want it.”

  Empingham had a brain and used it.

  “Backed themselves into a corner, had they, my lord? No way out except by executing the missionary, and then throwing his family to the dogs. They knew that if they did that, we would all be forced to go to war. Glad to see you, were they?”

  It seemed obvious to Magnus that the Chinese must have been pleased to be offered a way out of difficulties that they had only partially created.

  “Very much so, in the end. They were in a difficult position. They should have sent a message to the American Legation that one of the missionaries had gone mad, of course. Not having done so – and it does smack of humiliation for them, having to beg for help – they were in a tight corner, having to maintain their prestige in front of their own people, the military especially. I showed willing to talk and save their face. Won’t last, of course. These Boxers will kill too many foreigners for it to be ignored. Bloody fools! Do you know who’s using them, and for what? Sia passed the word that the German Minister, von Ketteler, is talking to the Imperial Army. I think he’s telling me the truth. He gave me the word as a reward for being a good boy – probably in advance of whatever I am supposed to do for his people.”

  Empingham knew of Magnus’ relationship with Ping and his triad.

  “Ping has moved an amount of gold to Hong Kong lately. A large amount. The bankers there won’t talk figures – you know what they’re like – but they have suggested that the sum is larger than they have handled in many years in a single transaction. That, to my mind, means millions. They have made a transfer to London. The total is to be invested for the time being, into interest-bearing bonds. It will establish the bona fides in the City of the Hanshan Investment Fund, I understand.”

  Magnus was surprised. He had not expected such a move for some years.

  “He’s planning to get out in the near future, you think?”

  “No. He’ll stay for another ten years, at least. He has bought a small steamer to shift rice and timber on his own river. That will take a few years to pay for itself. Add to that, he has opened a little college for clever boys. Teaching English and mathematics and sciences to the first intake. Only a couple of dozen, so far, but there is word he has more in mind. Again, that means a good few years for the investment to pay off in useful men. I think he may send a younger son, the Ping that you know, to London. He will want at least one other Chinese man to accompany him and assistance in setting up and finding people to talk to.”

  That all made good sense, thinking it through.

  “My interpreter, Jian, wants to get out of China. He’s peasant born and far too clever for his own good. He could do well in London. Reliable man, too.”

  Conversation turned away from business – Magnus knowing that Empingham would tell him nothing that had not been first cleared with Captain Hawkins. Anything said to Magnus could be assumed to be available to Sia and Lord Ping.

  “What are you doing now, my lord?”

  “Marking time for the week, Empingham. I must return to Peking, you know. Making holiday for the time being.”

  Shanghai had a social round, unlike Peking where the four hundred or so of foreigners were hard-pressed to mount a dinner party a week.

  “Thing is, Empingham, that the gwailos in Peking don’t hardly talk to each other. Half of them are like Hart – not born into Society – and the rest are lesser gentry for the most part. Being born to an earl, there’s only three people in our Legation I can call on to dine – too much of a scandal if standards were relaxed, you know!”

  Lieutenant Empingham did know. His father was second son to a Viscount, so he had a claim to be part of High Society. He knew that his own children, if such eventuated, would be outsiders, unless he established himself in his own right. He knew as well that the Germans and Austrians were more severe in their discrimination. The Americans were apparently less so, but had their own rigid class distinctions, silent but adhered to. The result was to fragment society, which created a difficulty in the smaller postings.

  “Dining with acquaintances of my wife’s father tonight. Probably be his sort, self-made men – and well worth listening to if they are his match between the ears.”

  Empingham hardly knew the baronet and had wished for some time to talk at length with him.

  “A most able man, I am told, sir, with many sources at his fingertips.”

  The use of ‘sir’ rather than ‘my lord’ alerted Magnus that they were talking service business.

  “I could introduce you…”

  “If you would be so good, sir. In passing, of course. Will you be at the Club any evening this week?”

  “I can be…”

  “Tomorrow night, in Blantyre’s company, perhaps? Early in the evening, before dinner.”

  A less conspicuous time – easy for a chance-met acquaintance to join them at the table later and go off for a post-dinner drink and chat.

  “Will do.”

  The meeting came off as planned. Magnus had told his father-in-law in advance that the Intelligence people wanted to get to know him, to cultivate him for their own purposes and to use his knowledge of China. Blantyre was willing to be used, knowing that it would create goodwill for him among the right people in government.

  “It’s alright for people like you, my lord. You know them already and they know of you, even if they’ve never met you. They don’t know me, and most of them don’t want to, for not being the right sort. Even with the money I can lay my hands on, I’m still on the outside. If I show willing to be useful, then they will be fair and talk to me in public, announce that I’m acceptable. That helps the hong, does me some good if ever I decide to retire to England. Add to that, if I fall foul of German or American interests, they will come to my aid, if they know I am ‘loyal’, in their meaning of that word.”

  It was a different world – one that Magnus knew nothing of. He had always been on the inside, even if on the verge of expulsion from the ranks of Society’s elite. He could not comprehend being an outsider but could imagine that it was a most uncomfortable state for a man of power and ability.

  He was pleased to be able to help the old man, for whom he was developing some affection. It surprised him, when he admitted to himself that he regarded Blantyre as ‘family’, with all that implied. He was not the right ‘sort’, in any sense of the word, yet he was better than many who were. A man of his word, of good judgement of character, of courage – yet he came from outside all of the institutions that were supposed to develop such traits. If Blantyre was a sound man, then it stood to reason that there must be thousands of others like him who were equally so. If that was the case, then the whole class system was wrong – it could not be the case that the aristocracy led by natural right, by inherited virtue. The very concept of noblesse oblige could not be valid.

  By extension, d
id that make it possible that the White Man was not superior to all other forms of homo sapiens?

  That last thought was too much to tolerate; he turned his mind to other, more congenial topics.

  He smiled at Blantyre and resumed the conversation.

  “Glad to be of some value to you, sir. You have done so much for me, you know, that it’s a pleasure to make even a little return.”

  Blantyre was touched – he had not expected gratitude. He became business-like in response, to hide his feelings, as was proper for a Victorian man.

  “What’s this young fellow like, my lord? The one you want me to meet.”

  “Empingham? Looks limp-wristed. Bit on the weak side, you might think – but he can’t be if he’s come through the naval training at Dartmouth. You don’t survive that without a backbone! He ain’t a blood and guts fighting man, that’s for sure. Not one to go looking for a scrap, but there’s no yellow in him. Give him no choice but fight and watch out, that’s my opinion of him. He’s clever and he’s mild-mannered and I think he’s good at his job. The sole worry I have about him is that he might be too clever – one of those who works out what must be happening and then looks for the evidence that proves him right”

  Blantyre nodded gravely.

  “And anything that says he’s wrong gets ignored, you fear?”

  “Just that, sir. I might be doing him a disservice, of course. He’s Fishpond, so he’s against the Germans and for the French alliance. Might be he’ll discover different facts to those one of Charlie B’s people might uncover.”

  Blantyre was forewarned and greeted Empingham with pleasure and bought him a drink and chatted about Shanghai scandals for a few minutes.

  “We shall be dining here tonight, Mr Empingham. My daughter is indisposed, won’t be joining us – one of those little malaises pregnant ladies sometimes suffer from. Will you make up the table?”

  The pregnancy was very useful on occasions. It was natural enough to invite a chance-met acquaintance to dine in such circumstances.