Chinese Whispers

by Andrew Wareham

  “What word have you from inland, Sir Charles?”

  Magnus had almost forgotten his father-in-law’s recent baronetcy; he was glad to be reminded by Empingham, particularly as he had forgotten Blantyre’s Christian name and could hardly ask.

  “North and north-west – nothing, Mr Empingham. The telegraph wires are down and few travellers are getting through. The land is on fire, I suspect. Due west and south, everything normal. The drought is far less severe in the southern lands, and that’s no coincidence - the people have less reason to be despairing. North of the Yellow River is chaos, or so I suppose. There’re guns getting through, or so I believe. Mauser rifles, for sure, but American as well. I hear of Winchester carbines being sold south, together with a few of Colts.”

  “Are there many guns in the south, Sir Charles?”

  “Not a lot – just the normal going down the criminal routes. Some ‘good’ Boxer chieftain picks up his supply of weaponry for his band and heads off with them and sells them to bandits in the south, a few dozen at a time. Most of them will remain in the hands of the Boxers. A few thousands so far, I expect. Not a great problem as yet. Will be if they get a few more shiploads in.”

  Empingham was not greatly surprised. There had been some importation of German rifles for the Imperial troops, and in the nature of things, a number of those rifles would have gone astray over the years. Shiploads of American rifles would be a different matter, adding some thousands of barrels to the insurgent forces.

  “Americans are a damned nuisance with their manufacture of rifles and pistols, all without any control at all. There’s word of them in the Middle East, in Arab hands, and in the Balkans by the thousand.”

  It made sense, Magnus thought. Many of the slaving ships running out of the Orient and into the Red Sea and Persian Gulf were American and slavers turned smuggler whenever the profit was greater.

  “Easy to pick up a cargo of guns in San Francisco and carry them across the Pacific. The rebels in the Philippines have access to a few small gold mines and to pearl fisheries, so they can pay for small arms. If there’s no sale there, simple to carry them across to the Chinese coast.”

  Empingham agreed. The American army was having problems in the Philippines due to the rebel tribes being better armed than they really should be.

  “We ain’t selling guns to the Huk rebels – I think that’s what they’re called. The French ain’t, either. The Germans might be. Most likely it’s Americans providing the rifles to use against their own army”

  “Nasty, Mr Empingham. Don’t like traitors, myself.”

  Empingham shrugged – treachery was a part of life in his trade. He would pass the word to Captain Hawkins that gun-running seemed to be a problem again.

  “What do we do if the Boxers reach Peking, Mr Empingham?”

  “Throw them back again, Sir Charles. Land a naval force at Taku and send it up the railway by way of Tientsin. Shouldn’t be too difficult a job, provided the coast is clear.”

  “Figuratively or literally, Empingham? What about the Germans?”

  “They will be in danger in Peking just as much as anybody else, my lord. They will surely not try to play the ends against the middle in such circumstances.”

  Magnus suspected that the plotting might be ill-planned, little more than an opportunist seizing of the chance to make trouble.

  “Depends, Mr Empingham. If things get out of hand, if they lose control of their suborned generals, then they might end up mired in the bother they have created.”

  “How many Imperial troops are there in and around Peking, my lord?”

  “Damned if I know, Mr Empingham. Counting those in garrison at Tientsin, and holding the forts at Taku, maybe fifty thousand. Some of them are commanded by men totally loyal to the Qing. Some are in the hands of adventurers. A few thousand, and how many I cannot guess, owe obedience to honest, moral and deeply loyal men whose sole care is the future well-being of China. Some are in undisciplined battalions that are little better than gangs of bandits, a menace to Chinese and gwailo alike. You pays your money, and you takes your choice, as they say in the fairgrounds. I might compare it to Germany in the Thirty Years War – a total mess in which the only thing to be predicted is that the ordinary John Chinaman is going to come out very badly indeed.”

  Part of the curriculum at the Dartmouth Naval College involved the study of military history.

  Empingham had studied the same books, listened to the identical lectures.

  “Disaster, if it be so, my lord.”

  Blantyre knew no history, made no comment. He ate his dinner and listened to Empingham’s conclusion.

  “I shall inform Captain Hawkins of your discoveries, gentlemen. Horrifying, are they not?”

  For a few days, Magnus idled, enjoying his wife’s company while he could and visiting the shops and stores of Shanghai to replenish his wardrobe and make up his uniforms – impossible in Peking.

  “Best book myself a passage north tomorrow, my love. I need be back to the grindstone next week.”

  There was no alternative, or so it seemed.

  Breakfast next morning brought a messenger and a note.

  “’Report to Captain ffoulkes, SNO Shanghai’. So it says, Ellen. That means best bib and tucker – a formal interview for some purpose.”

  He sent word to Carter to change into best uniform.

  “Such as what, Magnus?”

  He shrugged, there were several possibilities.

  “If it is orders from the Admiralty, then anything may be the case. It might be news from London – my reprobate brother discovered alive, at worst. My father gone mad and shot himself. My father having regained sanity and shot himself. Either of those is well possible. If it is word from Hong Kong, then I may be patted on the back, ‘good dog for saving the Lakeham family’ or smacked on the nose, ‘bad boy for allowing Daubney to be crucified’. Who can tell?”

  “A ship?”

  “Possible, but I really do not like to think of Sia and Ping possessing such influence with the Admiral.”

  She said no more but suspected that the two gentlemen might be able to play the system. They were rich, knowledgeable and intelligent – three qualities that Admiral Seymour was distinguished by not possessing.

  “Your Captain Jellicoe, and who is the distinguished new man on station?”

  “Beatty.”

  “That’s it. Will the pair of them be able to match Ping and Sia in a game of wits?”

  “Only if they learn the rules of the game first. If they don’t even know they are playing – which is well possible – they will be made to seem foolish until the fighting starts. Both are men who will do well when they smell powder, but they ain’t the world’s best politicians.”

  Both knew that Ping and Sia were masterminds by comparison, when it came to politics.

  The Chinese valet had followed Carter’s orders and had laid out the newest reporting dress - frockcoat and cocked hat – as was correct for a formal interview.

  “Nelson would have been at home in this rig, Carter.”

  “Quite right too, sir. If it was good enough for Nelson, then it will do us, sir.”

  It was the reply he should have expected, he realised. The little admiral had done the Navy few favours in some ways – he had created a tradition that had overcome common sense. ‘If it was good enough for Nelson…’ was an attitude that had destroyed a deal of sensible innovation. Magnus suspected that the changes that had been rejected in Nelson’s name had been espoused in foreign navies, to their great gain.

  He presented himself to Captain ffoulkes, saw him to be equally formally dressed, congratulated himself on his wisdom. Had he been less properly presented, he would have been at some considerable disadvantage in the interview to come.

  “From Admiral Seymour, Lord Eskdale. First to congratulate you on your efforts to save the Lakeham family in very difficult circumstances. It would have been easy to have lost all of them and you did well to sav
e the women and children. The thanks of the American government have been recorded at the Admiralty, which reflects well on the whole station, of course.”

  Admiral Seymour’s standing at the Admiralty would have been enhanced; his next promotion was closer, and he would be in line for a better next posting. The Admiralty liked to be applauded by foreigners.

  “Also from Admiral Seymour, my lord, orders. You are not to return to Peking. Your replacement is on his way from Hong Kong now. You will join the protected cruiser Obelisk in command, to replace vice Commander Tomkins who has succumbed to illness. Obelisk is at Hong Kong the while and you will join her with immediate effect. She is posted to the China Station and you will be able to keep your house in Shanghai open for some months at least. The destroyer Shark entered the river overnight, bearing these orders. She will sail by three o’clock this afternoon, sir, yourself aboard.”

  Ffoulkes relaxed from his formality and offered his congratulations and a handshake.

  “A plum, Eskdale – a well-deserved reward, sir!”

  “Thank you, sir. She is Pearl class, is she not? I have never served in them.”

  “I have. Useful sort of ship for this station, or any colonial posting, Eskdale. Not suitable for action with the Fleet in the North Sea or the Med or the Atlantic. Too slow. Rated for nineteen knots but you’ll be lucky to coax seventeen out of her now, and possibly less. The whole class is due to be reboilered, unless they sell them out of service. About ten years old, within reason modern. Do well on the rivers and along the coast. Eight of quick-firers, four point sevens, in single mounts, and the same of three pounders. Four machine guns – forty-five calibre Maxims, I believe. Two torpedo tubes and two carriages. Your speciality, torpedoes, ain’t it?”

  Magnus smiled, admitted that he had fired one with some success only the previous year.

  “Only man in the whole Navy to have done that, Eskdale. Good for your name.”

  Something needed be, Magnus reflected.

  “Do you know her crew, sir?”

  “About two-twenty, I think. She’s close to two thousand six hundred tons displacement. Range of about five thousand miles on bunkers of two hundred and fifty tons of good steam coal. Twin funnelled, two masts with topmasts but never to be seen under sail. Pity, the old days are going fast, Eskdale.”

  There was nothing to be said to that; the sooner the old days went, the better, to Magnus’ mind.

  “I might have thought her to be the command of a post-captain, sir.”

  “Some of the class are. The rest have senior commanders in them. You will be a long way the most junior to have one of them. Make a go of it and the Admiralty has to put you up, you know, Eskdale. Right that you should be promoted, too, in my opinion. Your record out here has been outstanding. Good wife, as well. Don’t see you as a battleship man, myself, but there is much to be said for a flotilla of destroyers or detached command of a cruiser when it comes to war, you know, Eskdale. Good chance I shall be calling you ‘sir’ as my admiral, one day, so I believe. Tell you one thing, Eskdale – there will be no jealousy from me if that day comes!”

  The shook hands again, Magnus reflecting that ffoulkes was positioning himself to rise on his coattails if the promotion he foresaw actually came about.

  ‘How are mighty risen, or so it seems.’

  “I must go, sir, if I am not to delay Shark. Thank you, sir.”

  He did not want to stay for a celebratory drink that might easily turn into a bottle.

  “Ellen, I’ve been given Obelisk. She’s in Hong Kong and I must sail to join her in Shark by three o’clock. She’s China Station. With luck, I shall be back in a very few weeks. For the while, I need everything packed instantly. I must speak to your father… No, you do that for me, if you will. Ask him to send a message to Sia, informing him of the appointment, which he must know about, and offering my general sense of obligation to him. I cannot outright say that I know he has worked the oracle for me – though I am sure he has, somehow.”

  “What is she, Magnus?”

  She rang the bell and gave orders to the butler and sat back as the house dissolved into running chaos about her.

  “They so much enjoy shouting and having a panic, Magnus! It is tedious, but who am I to deny them the pleasures of their existence? Now then, Obelisk – what manner of ship is she?”

  Magnus explained the nature of the cruiser, mentioning that she was ‘protected’ because her upper deck, from stem to stern, was made of thick armour plate.

  “Probably something like two-inch plate, which will stop anything up to a six-inch brick on a falling trajectory. Distant shell fire is always falling, when it hits. Any range greater than point-blank, that is, by definition. Useful when scrapping with other cruisers or facing shore guns. Better than no armour at all, but something to the sides has much to recommend it too.”

  “But she will not be required to scout for the fleet, you say?”

  “Too slow. Do well on the big rivers and very handy at running the inshore blockade, though not so useful out to sea where the distances and speed can be greater. I don’t know if she has a light twelve pounder aboard. If not, I shall try to lay hands on one. Very useful, a gun that can be set ashore. Percy Scott is said to be working up a land mounting for four point seven and six inch quick firers. Using them in South Africa, so the buzz has it.”

  She appreciated that he expected to take a party ashore in China during this command. She wanted to tell him to be careful – but that was not what the naval wife did.

  “Will you take Jian with you, as your interpreter, Magnus?”

  “Yes. I can fiddle that. I want to get him to Hanshan, to bring him to Lord Ping’s attention. There’s a chance that young Mr Ping will be sent to London – in that event, I would like Jian to accompany him. He did very well by me in the Yanking business and I owe Jian a reward. He, poor chap, believes that to be sent to London will be just that. It may well be in his case.”

  Admiral Seymour interviewed Magnus within minutes of his coming ashore from Shark.

  “Your Obelisk is in good condition, Eskdale. Commander Tomkins was well on top of her. Very smart. You will be glad to know that he had actually practised her gunnery. Fast and accurate at a respectable range. Not a torpedo man, mark you, but she’s slow for using them in any case. Pity the man took ill. On his way Home. Career’s finished. Take her over in the morning, Eskdale. Working on your orders now. Be a couple of days, I expect… What’s today? Monday? Say you can expect to sail for Thursday. North in the first instance, pretty much of a certainty. Wei-Hai-Wei, I expect as a base for a few weeks, then back to more congenial climes. Shanghai for a month or two, if everything works out. See Captain Hawkins now. Jellicoe, do you wish to speak with Eskdale today?”

  The Flag Captain was present but silent, as was normal enough. He shook his head.

  “I shall discuss Lord Eskdale’s orders with him on Wednesday. Aboard Obelisk, I expect.”

  A Flag Captain’s inspection of the new ship was almost inevitable, but Magnus might have liked it to be delayed until he had been a little longer in command. He made his salutes and retired from the office, returning quickly to his allocated room in the officers’ quarters to change out of reporting uniform and then find Captain Hawkins.

  “What’s the griff, sir? Why is Commander Tomkins, who was evidently a capable captain, superseded and sent home? From what the Admiral said, I did not get the feeling he is mortally ill. He said that his career is finished and a dying man ain’t got a career in the nature of things.”

  Captain Hawkins offered an embarrassed smile.

  “On the QT, old chap, not a word to be said outside this room.”

  Puzzled, Magnus assured him of his silence.

  “Caught the clap! Got himself a dose, you know! Shocking thing – must have been careless in his amusements. You know the rules, Eskdale, old chap – an officer picks up a disease of that sort and he must send in his papers. No place for that sort in the N
avy. Lower deck gets it – well, they know no better! Officers are supposed to show some discretion where they get their end away.”

  That was true, was known to every officer, drilled into them at Dartmouth and reinforced by the informal grapevine since. An officer did not get caught in such a fashion, kept away from the cheap brothels, indulged himself with discretion, or, preferably, did not indulge at all before marriage to a respectable virgin.

  “’And God help them both on their wedding night’, Magnus thought, while shaking his head in distaste and very slight sympathy.

  “Don’t hear of that happening very often, sir.”

  “Nor one damned well should, Eskdale! Man was a fool, to himself and to the service. Good thing is that his fallibility was made clear before he reached higher rank. Think of having a fool like that in command of a flotilla!”

  It was not entirely obvious to Magnus how catching a dose could affect one’s ability to manoeuvre a group of ships, but possibly Hawkins understood things he did not.

  “Undesirable, sir.”

  “Very much so, Eskdale!”

  Magnus wondered how it had come about. There were several reputable and not too expensive brothels in Hong Kong that served middle-ranking army and navy officers, all of their girls scrupulously healthy. Tomkins must have strayed away from safe territory… Unless, perhaps, Ping and Sia had arranged his fall from grace because they needed a vacancy in a captain’s cabin. Surely not! They would not be so cynically uncaring…

  They might easily be, on second thoughts.

  It could never be proved, and there was no possible gain in asking them, but the likelihood was there, nonetheless.

  “Poor bloody chap! At least, he can be cured, these days, sir.”

  “Nine times out of ten, they tell me, provided it’s not syphilis, of course. No cure for that. But the quack said clap, not pox, so it shouldn’t be that bad.”

  Confidentiality was not the rule for naval surgeons. The good of the service came before the rights of the patient on every occasion.