Chinese Whispers

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Chinese Whispers Page 24

by Andrew Wareham


  “Aye aye, sir. Do we know what might happen, sir?”

  “Guesswork only. Pass the word that trouble is almost certain in Peking and we may be called at no notice to set men ashore at Taku. Instant recall if the word goes out. The Provosts will be out – warn the men to listen to the crushers and do as they are told. Remind them that if they are called to active service and refuse then they are in deep trouble, so hearken to what the policemen say, rather than just thump ‘em and run.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I know, Mr Knowles – put a bottle of arrack into them and they’ll set one on the nearest Provost as a matter of principle. No chance at all they will listen to what they have to say – but warn them. One or two might remember your words, and most of them won’t want to miss the chance of a fight. Best thing will be for me to speak to each watch before it goes off on liberty. They might listen.”

  Knowles shook his head.

  “They’ve been paid, sir. All they’ll be thinking about is how far to the nearest brothel and how soon before they’re in there.”

  “I know. Got to try though, Mr Knowles. What’s the time?”

  “Fifteen twenty, sir. Just right to get into the SNO’s gin for four o’clock, sir.”

  “So it is. I must get changed.”

  Magnus left the bridge, mainly to make it clear to the First Lieutenant that he had no qualms in leaving him to dock the ship. He felt that Knowles lacked a little in self-confidence and needed to be encouraged to take more responsibility. If there was a fight coming, then he would need a totally reliable deputy, especially if Obelisk had to land a large shore party.

  Carter kitted him out in his best tropical number ones and he returned to the forebridge to take a quick survey of the naval berths to determine what ships were in, and who was senior to him, if any.

  “Destroyer, three sloops and a gunboat, sir. All small ships, sir.”

  It was possible that the sloops might have commanders aboard. If they did, the chances were that they might be senior in the rank, although in command of far smaller vessels. That might be awkward.

  Ten minutes to four; time to leave the ship to present himself at SNO’s door at one minute to four precisely, to be inside within seconds of the stated time, as was correct. Naval officers were never fashionably late when attending functions.

  Magnus entered the office – the cabin – of the SNO to be greeted by a post captain he had never seen before.

  “Parker, Lord Eskdale. My predecessor died last week. Captain ffoulkes was taken ill with something and I was sent last month to stand in for him while he recovered. He didn’t. I was appointed this morning. Hence this affair.”

  “So be it, sir. Could happen to any of us. Poor fellow was onshore because he could no longer tolerate the sea-going life – must have been worse than he thought. Have you been long on the China Station, sir?”

  People died on the China Station, succumbing to various local diseases, normally exacerbated by the booze. It was not as bad as most of tropical Africa, but the death rate was not negligible, and it was never a complete surprise to find a new face in an old office.

  Captain Parker evidently found it difficult to answer Magnus’ casual question, was struggling for the words, it seemed. Magnus carefully assembled an innocuous expression as he nodded to the other commanding officers in the room, all of them junior to him, he saw.

  Captain Parker produced a sheepish smile and finally gave his answer.

  “Been out just five weeks, in fact, Lord Eskdale. Posted in a bit of a hurry, you might say. I had the cruiser, Blake, in the Channel Fleet. Ran aground off Chatham. Admiral had signalled a turn and there was too little searoom, it transpired. Court martial said I should have disobeyed the admiral’s command; I was dismissed the ship with no loss of seniority and retained in employment. Shades of bloody Camperdown and Victoria!”

  Admiral Tryon had given an incorrect order when commanding the Mediterranean Fleet, resulting in the battleship Camperdown ramming and sinking his flagship, Victoria. Tryon had not survived the accident, probably by choice, and the controversy still continued over whether his subordinate should have refused his order.

  “Damned bad luck, sir! That could be any of us. Obey the order and run aground and dismissed one’s ship. Disobey the order and probably be dismissed the service for insubordination!”

  There was a mutter of agreement; Parker’s dilemma was feared by every thinking officer.

  “Are you passing through or appointed to the station, Eskdale?”

  “To the station, sir. Admiral Seymour wants a bit more weight on the river, sir. This business with the Boxers, sir, seems to be building into something nasty in the north, so he wants a visible reminder to the local population that the Navy is watching them. Opinion is that the trouble will hit in Peking, sir, rather than here. The unofficial word is that there may be an expeditionary force and a bit of excitement for all of us.”

  Captain Parker cheered up. If ships under his command were to send a large party on land, then he must lead it with every chance of repairing the damage done to his record.

  “Very good! We shall all of us enjoy the opportunity to see some action. What of you, Eskdale, do you know Shanghai?”

  “I do indeed, sir. My wife is living here, in fact, sir, and I shall be requesting permission to sleep out of my ship. She is Blantyre’s daughter.”

  Captain Parker had not caught up with all of the gossip, but he knew who Blantyre was. He gave instant permission for Magnus to live ashore.

  “What’s the griff along the river, sir?”

  “Nothing! No rumours of any sort. Nothing happening. You know Mr Empingham?”

  Magnus thought it poor behaviour to name Empingham before a mixed group of captains, any of whom might be indiscreet. It was done, however, and protest might simply fix his name more strongly in their minds.

  “Yes, sir. I know his function, sir. He reports to Captain Hawkins, sir.”

  “Exactly. Don’t like that sort of business, meself, but the Great Game must be played, so they tell me! Be that as it may, Empingham informs me that the lands around the Yangtse are quiet. Nothing happening at all. From what he says, the Germans took a bloody nose here recently and have withdrawn from the vicinity. Russia has other fish to fry – busy close to the borders on the north and thinking about the Pacific coast and expanding out of Port Arthur. The Japanese want Korea, which means tackling Russia sooner or later, so they want us as at least benevolently neutral, allies more likely, and won’t play games in our backyard for the nonce. The French are tied up with Cochin China, still fighting there and drawing in more of their troops than they wanted. The Americans are tangled in the Philippines – bitten off more than they can chew there!”

  Magnus briefly commented that he had visited Manila in the past weeks and had seen the Americans to be militarily active, more so than they seemed to have expected.

  “Exactly so. That leaves us and the little countries as the sole players in the field here on the Yangtse. Of them, Italy is upset about the Catholic missions, of course, but has no power to do anything to assist them, and we will not do the job for them. The others are simply concerned with trade, not playing at empires hereabouts.”

  Magnus was satisfied that all was as it should be, apart from the Catholics.

  “What has happened to upset the Italians, sir?”

  “Oh, just the normal, Eskdale. Local villagers more than normally angry with a mission and the warlord’s troops going in to arrest a priest on various charges. The Chinese Christians there objected and tried to rescue their priest and the soldiers killed the lot of them – wiped them out, men, women and children. There were three priests at the mission and they dumped the other two in a sampan and sent them down the river. The one they arrested is, or was when last I heard, held awaiting trial. Presumably the warlord is waiting to see what will happen, whether he can sell him off.”

  “Normal charges against the priest, sir?”


  Captain Parker did not know what the general run of allegations were. The other captains present, all of whom had some months in on river patrols, enlightened him.

  “Cannibalism is a favourite, sir. Buying Chinese children for the table.”

  “Blinding Chinese men and using their eyes for magical rites, sir.”

  “Ritual sacrifice – crucifixions at Easter. Hear that one every year.”

  The blasé attitude of the captains horrified Parker.

  “But… what do you do to correct these foolish rumours?”

  The captain of one of the smallest sloops, his face vaguely known to Magnus but he could not put a name to him, smirked unpleasantly.

  “Nothing, sir. They know that we don’t indulge in such tricks, so they don’t discuss them with us. In any case, sir, some of these missionaries have some pretty unsavoury habits, you know… Not uncommon to see the little boys walking bow-legged around them, you know.”

  “Good God!”

  Whether Parker was offended by the accusation or its crude form of expression was unclear. Magnus decided it was time to turn the conversation.

  “What’s going on at the Club, sir? Anything of note I should take the wife to in the next days?”

  “Oh, just the normal dances, you know. Not married, myself, so I don’t take much notice of that sort of thing.”

  “Active social life here in Shanghai, sir. The Navy always plays its part. Good shooting outside the city, if you’re into sport.”

  Captain Parker was, fortunately, and the conversation turned to snipe and duck.

  Two hours later and Magnus was rescued by the appearance of Blantyre’s town carriage.

  “Are you to stay here, my love?”

  “For the while. Obelisk is to patrol the river, waiting for the big blow-up to come. Has your father heard anything of late?”

  Ellen feared he had heard too much.

  “He will see you tomorrow, I expect, Magnus. He has not told me all he has picked up but has said more than once that you were very wise to get us out of Peking. I know that he has run his activities down in the north – sold off everything in the warehouses inland. I think he has built up stocks in Wei-Hai-Wei, safe under the guns of the Navy, with the expectation that there will be a demand for flour and rice and other basic staples. For some reason, and he has not explained it to me, he believes that he should be high in cash this year.”

  Magnus presumed that Blantyre expected to be able to buy, and cheaply, though what and where was not obvious.

  “Probably general caution, little lady. In times of trouble it is always wise to have a few thousand to hand. What of you? Are you truly keeping well? I know what your letters said, but I much prefer to hear the word face to face.”

  “Fit and well indeed, Magnus. I must expect to show my condition soon, so the doctor says. He is much of the opinion that I fell in our honeymoon weeks!”

  “As I remember, there was much opportunity for you to do so, my love!”

  She reddened, a little, more inclined to grin in triumph.

  “Have you informed your family, Magnus?”

  “No. My father would be little interested, except perhaps from the purely dynastic viewpoint. I do not know how well he actually is. I suspect that he may not be entirely in touch with the world around him. He has not written – but he would not have, whatever his condition. I have sent a note to our lawyers in London, asking for information on his well-being. They must reply to me but are under no obligation to tell me anything unless he is actually under some form of legal guardianship. It is all very untidy, and I am too far distant to hear any unofficial information.”

  She knew he was effectively alone, though he had mentioned a maternal uncle who was his sole patron – had been, before his marriage that was.

  “Your uncle, the captain, Magnus?”

  “Captain Maclean? The source of my income? I have not met him in many years – that was one of his conditions for supporting me in the Service, ‘that I should not make a nuisance of myself in his house on leave’. He lives in Edinburgh, has a comfortable town house there, as I remember; I saw him before I joined, just the once. He is unwed, and I suspect has no love for female company – the house had several younger male servants of dubious function. He has no contacts in Society and probably none remaining in the Navy. He would know very little, I suspect, although his sort of people often cling together, I am told, and may exchange gossip.”

  “He is a rich man, is he not, Magnus?”

  “I think so – he must be comfortable at least to have five hundred a year to throw in my direction. I do not know if he has made a Will, or who must benefit under it, but I shall not make my mind up to inherit a fortune from him. He has no obligation to me, not that I know of and may legitimately feel that he has duties towards a friend of long standing.”

  She could not approve, although there was no great objection in her mind to a recognition of ties of affection… but she did prefer such to be more orthodox. She suspected that if they had been poorer, she would have been much more indignant about the money going astray.

  “You are truly alone in the world then, husband.”

  He knew that Ellen had a plethora of relatives on both sides, wondered if he should envy her.

  “I was, my lady. With you, I am not, never can be solitary – and I need no other. I think I was alone when I was younger, just a few months ago. I did not realise such to be the case, but I know it now. You have shown me so.”

  That was as it should be, she thought.

  “Have you informed your Uncle Maclean of our marriage?”

  “Of course. That was the least courtesy I could offer him. I must send him another letter, in fact, to tell him of Obelisk. He has always wished to know the bare bones of my career. One of the few responses I have had from him came after the DSO – a stiff note of congratulations and a recommendation that I should apply myself even further to my career.”

  It was a different world still, she knew. Her relatives would have been delighted with such an honour, would have swamped the fortunate recipient with their candid expressions of heartfelt joy at his merit in achieving such recognition from his Queen.

  “Can I visit your Obelisk, Magnus?”

  “You must, if at all possible. All aboard will have heard of the captain’s beautiful lady and will wish to see you. Will it be possible to bring my officers to a dinner here? I suspect that we shall be involved in the business in Peking when it erupts, and it will be wise to bring them together as a group, an elite, if you will.”

  She was much in favour of a dinner – it was the sort of thing that the captain’s lady should do.

  “A number of other guests besides, Magnus. Your wardroom is very young, from all you have written to me. It might do them good to meet some of the unmarried daughters of Shanghai. There are some very eligible young females here, you know.”

  Naval pay was tiny. The prospect of meeting the well-inlaid daughters of the hongs must be enticing…

  From both sides, when he considered the business – his officers were men of the upper middle order and the County, and some of them claimed aristocratic connections. In the way that he had provided Blantyre with blue blood, so might they to other hongs, if slightly paler a shade than his.

  Young Geddes, for example, might be more than delighted to marry into wealth… He owed a little something to Geddes, for the gunrunner that could have made such a difference to his family.

  “Yes, do that, my love. More than one of my young men could be pleased to meet a young lady of fortune. They might even be as lucky as me and fall in love as well. I must tell you of my Paymaster and his family misfortunes, poor chap. I felt most guilty to throw away, as he must have seen it, the prospect of a payment of prize money just a few weeks since.”

  He told the tale of the gunrunner, forgetting to play down his own role in the boarding.

  “Must you stand to the fore in every one of such occasions, Magnus?�


  He was silent, apologetic, abashed – she was close to tears. He had to make answer.

  “I cannot hold back, my lady. I am captain, and that means I lead my people. From the front. There is no other place for the leader to be. I cannot say to my men to go where I will not. When – if – I become admiral, then it will be different, for the admiral makes plans and is not expected to execute them. At a lesser rank, then it is my job to lead – and it is my pride, my love. I cannot show yellow, no matter how much I wish to come back to you. I would be ashamed, and if I cannot come back proud, then better I do not come back at all. I am sorry to distress you so, but I am a man and will not be less than that.”

  She wept.

  A few minutes and she regained her composure, in her turn apologetic.

  “I did not mean to shame you, Magnus. I would not ask that of you… I do so want you to return.”

  “Better perhaps that I should not go, my love. I shall speak to your father and ask of him whether he can find me employment. The Navy means less to me than you do – I will not stay a sailor at your expense.”

  “No. You would not be happy in the office, working as a merchant. You are clever and would do the job well, but you need broader horizons than can be shown from an office window.”

  He allowed himself to be persuaded, to a great extent because he knew she was right – he could not be confined to a desk. He was sure that he had been a philanderer as a flag-lieutenant for lack of other enjoyable action; returning to a sedentary way of life would leave him desperately seeking anything to brighten his existence.

  “Perhaps there is something wrong with me, little lady. I have you, and love you dearly, yet still I need more… I am not in the habit of, what do these new doctors of the mind call it? Self-analysis? I knew a young lady in London some years back who was fascinated by the concept, told me more than I wished to know of it… Perhaps I should ask myself why I do what I do, why I am pleased to stand in the way of danger. I might not like the answer, though!”

 

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