The Rebellion Engines

by Jeannie Lin

  It was during the mid-day meal that Liu Yentai came to me with his mask and goggles removed. His face and hands were for once scrubbed clean. The engine wasn’t running at the moment. We were sailing on the power of the wind and the current.

  “I set Chang-wei and those boys to scrubbing the engine room,” he said with glee. “And threatened to cut off Chang-wei’s fingers if he tried to modify anything.”

  Lunch was a bowl of rice porridge and salted fish. Old Liu sat down with me above deck to enjoy the sun while we ate.

  “I thought about that symbol you spoke of,” he said. “It might be associated with a merchant or trade guild.”

  “I wondered if it could be a symbol of rebellion used by some faction.”

  He sighed. “To the Great Qing, any group banded together is considered a threat. This constant fear will be their undoing. The Middle Kingdom is a vast place. People must have their clans and sects and inner circles. It is human nature to seek kinship.”

  The Qing Empire had been broken by war and addiction. Sensing weakness, rebel factions quickly formed and splintered off. Old loyalties had resurfaced. It was very much like, as Satomi described, so many little islands.

  “Our family is back in Peking now,” I told him. “I wasn’t sure it was the best place to go, but nowhere else seemed safe either. Tian is studying and preparing to enter the Academy.”

  This should have been a good report, my family was safe and cared for, but I felt guilty relaying all this to Old Liu.

  “Peking is as good a place as any other,” Liu replied gruffly. “What’s important is who you surround yourself with. Don’t be too trusting, Soling. Your father was a little too optimistic in that respect. Everyone respected and listened to him. Zhi-fu thought that would last forever.”

  “Mother is working with Kuo Lishen.”

  Liu started swearing again. “Mistaught, snake-tongued, unfit son of a dog,” he spat.

  “I think…I think Mother believes she can control him.”

  “Your mother is clever,” he conceded. “Just like your father was talented. But not for games like those. Kuo has always been an opportunist. You need to tell your mother to stay as far away from him as she can.”

  Kuo Lishen had taken over the Directorate after the governing body had been all but destroyed by the explosion. Even this brash move on Shanghai had been his plan, not Chang-wei’s.

  Had Kuo sent us sent into danger to take on all of the risk while he alone would reap the rewards?

  Chapter 13

  There was more swearing later that afternoon when Yang Hanzhu emerged from below deck.

  Hanzhu was conversing with Master Yim when Chang-wei approached. There was a parcel tucked beneath Chang-wei’s arm which he’d retrieved from his bunk. I’d wondered what it was.

  “I have something for you, Brother Yang,” Chang-wei said.

  Just the use of the honorific set Hanzhu on edge. Chang-wei ignored his skeptical look and held out the parcel. When Yang made no move to take it, Chang-wei carefully unfolded the white cloth to reveal a long triangular flag displaying diagonal red cross bands.

  Hanzhu’s expression turned to stone. “No.”

  “This is to signal to our connection in Shanghai and to indicate you’re registered to trade at the treaty port.”

  “A foreigner’s flag,” Hanzhu said through his teeth.

  “This doesn’t represent any of the nations in the concession. You’re not declaring any allegiance.”

  Hanzhu regarded him with eyes narrowed, unconvinced.

  “Consider it not a matter of honor, but practicality.”

  Chang-wei folded the banner neatly back into its triangular parcel and offered it out once more. “At your discretion, Elder Brother. If you decide this suits your purposes.”

  Hanzhu directed one of his deck hands to take the flag as if he didn’t wish to touch it himself.

  Later, Chang-wei went out on the utility boat to taxi to the auxiliary ships at Old Liu’s behest. According to Liu, the operators throughout the fleet were all hacks and the engines needed some maintenance.

  By that time, the sun was dipping low over gentle waters. A cool evening breeze had begun to pick up, when I saw one of the crew working the rigging on the main mast. He attached a white and red banner and pulled the lines to raise it high until the signal flag flew from the top mast.

  Hanzhu came up beside me as I stared up at the red stripes. The breeze caused his rogue hair to whip about his face.

  “A matter of practicality,” he said with a shrug.

  Chang-wei noticed the flag overhead upon returning to the deck.

  “You two are exactly like brothers,” I remarked, seeing Chang-wei’s smug look. “It’s too bad you don’t get along.”

  “We get along well enough.” He searched for Hanzhu and found him at the helm. “It can’t be easy for him, being constantly on the run.”

  We watched as Satomi came to Hanzhu to tell him something. They stood close as they spoke. Hanzhu’s fingertips grazed Satomi’s long sleeve lightly before she moved away. Chang-wei looked to me with eyebrows raised.

  “Hanzhu…who would have thought?” he said under his breath, eyes bright with amusement.

  “Like brothers,” I repeated.

  I thought of what Chang-wei had said the other day about amnesty as well as what Liu Yentai had observed about the Qing government. The lines between enemies and allies were quickly eroding. Even the shogunate in Japan had been forced to be pragmatic about trade with the West.

  Would Hanzhu ever be able let go of his feuding to earn a pardon? Would he ever want one?

  The newly raised flag rustled overhead in the wind. It was a fragile symbol marking a new Shanghai, a place in its infancy and home to constantly changing alliances.

  As it turned out there was nothing, certainly not a strip of cloth, that would protect us from what was coming.

  “A ship. To the east.”

  The call from a crewman was followed by coordinates I couldn’t understand. Yang Hanzhu was immediately called up from below. He lifted a pair of field glasses to his eyes, aiming them to the horizon. I followed his gaze but could only discern the smallest of blots in the distance. Sailors must have been accustomed to searching out such anomalies.

  Chang-wei surveyed the horizon as well before coming to my side. “It’s too soon to tell what sort of ship it is.”

  The only thing confirmed was that there was more than one and they were indeed moving toward our position. Yang called for a change in direction. After an hour, it was determined that the fleet did not appear to be following.

  Tension drained from the crew, but not nearly as quickly as it had come. Master Yim doubled the watch duty for the remaining daylight hours and through the night.

  That night I retired with Satomi to our bunk.

  “Well, a little drama does make the day go faster,” she said as we prepared for bed. “When I first came on board, days would last forever, but it’s gotten better. Having an assigned watch and a set of tasks to perform daily does help mark the time. Otherwise, there would be nothing to do but stare at the sun crawling across the sky.”

  She undid her gun belt and set it aside. “Having new faces on board is also a welcome distraction. New stories to listen to,” she added, lying down.

  “When is your watch?”

  “The morning watch. Up before dawn.”

  As I climbed onto the upper bunk, I noticed Satomi had placed an old, weathered journal beside her headrest.

  “Is that the journal you and Chang-wei were discussing?” I asked from above her.

  “It contains my father’s writings. The book was one of the few things I was able to take with me from Japan. All I have are the firearms, this book, and my memories.”

  “Does it help having someone from your homeland with you?”

  “You mean Makoto-san? We sometimes speak of Nagasaki, but we try not to reminisce too much. Homesickness only makes this exile more pai
nful.”

  We’d spoken throughout the day in small snatches over conversation. Satomi described how she had taken on the role of Yang Hanzhu’s bodyguard whenever they were on land and also maintained the ship’s arsenal of firearms. There was another crewman, as assigned gunner who managed the gunpowder supply in the magazine.

  I glanced at the rifle she’d laid down beside her bunk. “Is it dangerous at sea?”

  “We’ve engaged in battles before,” she confided. “Yang-san tries to evade before there’s any danger, but it’s not always possible. With our engines, the best strategy is to outmaneuver any potential attackers.”

  We were finally alone, so I had to ask. “Are you pirates?”

  There was silence down below.

  “Yes,” she said finally. Then, “No.”

  I crawled to the edge of the bunk to peer down at her. Satomi lay stretched out with her arms folded. The look she gave me was clear-eyed, at peace with everything she was telling me.

  “Most of our transactions involve transporting salt and gunpowder. We’ve received requests to join one raid or another, but Yang-san always declines. He prefers to answer to no one. Sometimes we transport supplies to places we’re not supposed to, which does pay more.”

  “But not opium.”

  “Never opium. And there’s so much of it. Yang-san can’t hold himself back when we encounter an opium runner.”

  She extinguished the lantern and darkness surrounded me. The boat swayed beneath us in a gentle, rolling motion.

  “I must apologize for my behavior earlier,” I said after a moment.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  “I saw the way you and Chang-wei were talking and I couldn’t help wondering—some things I’ve been wondering about a lot lately.”

  “What things?”

  The image came to me of the two of them, heads close. Chang-wei had looked completely absorbed in the conversation, his eyes bright with interest. I couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t for an old promise to my father, if it wasn’t for duty, would Chang-wei have wanted me?

  “I didn’t think I’d be the jealous sort,” I told her helplessly.

  It was so difficult to sort out all of these feelings. Chang-wei was the only person I’d ever thought of in this way. Since I was a child, I’d assumed if I were ever to marry, it would be to him, as a matter of course. But things were different now.

  I’d always found him disturbingly handsome. Mostly because I was supposed to be too practical to be distracted by something like that, and yet I was. He was intelligent and protective. Everything he did was with a sort of singular intensity that fascinated me.

  Ever since his marriage proposal, I found myself thinking of him all the time. I kept wondering whether he really meant what he’d said when he’d asked to marry me. Whether he still meant it.

  “It shouldn’t matter this much. I shouldn’t be so bothered,” I fretted. “He should be able to talk to anyone he wants.”

  My face heated while Satomi laughed softly.

  “Your engineer was really only interested in Yoshiro and whether my father had written any instructions or explanations in his journal.”

  “I know.” Which is why it was embarrassing to so become emotional over it. And for Satomi to have witnessed it. I needed to change the subject. “Did your father write much about his inventions?”

  “His mind would dart around like a hummingbird. There are notes and diagrams interspersed with observations and odd philosophical passages. I thought I could read his journal to understand him, but I know him no better than before.”

  In the darkness, her voice took on a sorrowful note.

  Chang-wei had taken the secrets of the elekiter technology Satomi’s father had developed to power the automatons. Was Satomi aware of it? What would she think if she knew her father’s invention was being re-purposed for war?

  “Your father created Yoshiro to protect you. It was an act of devotion.”

  “He did it just to see if he could,” Satomi insisted. “He would become fixated on a problem sometimes and stay up days without sleeping to try to solve it. Yang Hanzhu is the same way. Sometimes I worry about it.”

  “Why?”

  “He was fixated on the idea that your countrymen are being poisoned.”

  “We are being poisoned,” I argued.

  “I’m starting to believe it as well,” she agreed, to my surprise. “In Nippon, we’ve long thought that the scourge of opium was a weakness of the Shinajin. That it had nothing to do with us if we kept to ourselves. Now I’ve seen evidence of something more frightening than opium.”

  She told me of an encounter they had had on an island at one time chartered by the Qing Empire as an opium refuge before falling into disuse.

  “There was an island of people suffering from a strange sickness. They were mindless beasts, ready to attack anything in sight. What’s worse, they had been abandoned there by the men who were in charge of the opium refuge.”

  “I know of this sickness.” I had seen how it rendered a person mindless and ravenous.

  “Whatever this new plague is, it might have been started from within. By your own empire,” Satomi said. “Are these rebels the true enemy? Are they the ones you really should be fighting?”

  I didn’t have an answer. My world, our country was being torn apart bit by bit. Opium had been the start of it, but it wasn’t the only thing killing us.

  I took that last thought with me into sleep.

  It was still dark below deck when I heard the pound of footsteps followed by the urgent clang of a bell.

  Satomi clasped my shoulder in a firm grip, jolting me awake. “We need to take our positions.”

  I dragged myself up. “Positions? What’s happening?”

  Satomi lit the lantern before pulling her boots on. “Someone’s approaching. A possible attack—I’ll find out more above.”

  She fastened her belt, taking a moment to check the pistols, then slung a rifle over her shoulder before grabbing the lantern. She disappeared through the curtain before I could climb down from the bunk.

  I fumbled around in the dark for my slippers before leaving the berth. Crewmen rushed by as I moved through the passageway. Finally, I reached the galley where some light from outside streamed through. It was there that I found Chang-wei when we collided into one another.

  He steadied me in his arms and a rush of relief flooded through me. “Soling. Our people are assembled at the far end of the hold.”

  I held onto him as he led the way. Someone shoved past us in the opposite direction, heading above deck. The hold cleared out as the crew readied itself for confrontation.

  “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Not yet.” His arm closed around me as he urged me forward. “I’ll find out more after we get to the others.”

  Kai was assembled with three of Chang-wei’s engineers. They were gathered near a porthole that looked out into the water. Chang-wei left me with the group to go topside.

  “There are five or six boats gaining on us,” Kai reported. I couldn’t tell if his pale complexion was due to tense situation or his general seasickness. “They’re small, like fishing boats. They can’t do anything to a ship this large, can they?”

  I looked out through the porthole. From there, I could see two of the vessels trailing behind our ship. The others must have been on the other side and not visible from our vantage point. Were they attempting to flank us?

  I didn’t know enough about ships or sailing to make any guesses, but the fact that these smaller vessels would attempt to surround a larger ship signaled ill-intent. It was like a pack of wolves closing in on prey.

  Chang-wei came back to us with his report. “It might be pirates. Likely from Canton.”

  I tried to remain calm. “Are we in danger?”

  “Small raiders like these shouldn’t be underestimated. It’s harder to target them with heavy cannon. They can launch firebombs as a distracti
on before boarding. Or they may be trying to lure the two convoy ships away, but Yang wouldn’t fall for anything like that. He’s just going to try to outrun them.”

  The engine roared to life below us, sending a low rumble throughout the hull, vibrating the deck beneath us. I glanced outside to see the boats gradually drifting farther away until they were dots in the distance.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Chang-wei said evenly, though his jaw remained tense. “Did you sleep well?”

  I wasn’t swayed. “Will it become less dangerous the closer we get to Shanghai?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Chang-wei,” I prompted sharply.

  “With the breakdown of imperial oversight in these waters, the abundance of valuable cargo, legal and illegal.” He glanced out through the portal. “Fleets don’t operate alone out here and small ships can easily serve as scouts for larger ones. We won’t be out of danger until we safely reach land.”

  Chapter 14

  It was only hours later when the next alarm came.

  “Devil ship!”

  The entire crew went fully alert. With my naked eye, I could see the plume of smoke that billowed from the ship in the distance.

  “It’s a steamship,” Chang-wei said, coming up beside me at the rail. He lifted the field glasses to inspect the ship.

  I’d seen the foreign transports from afar while docked at port. This was the first time I’d encountered one at sea. It was bearing down at us at a fast pace, growing larger by the minute. A black menace on the water.

  “Yingguo,” Chang-wei reported. “From the flags.”

  Hanzhu stood on the quarterdeck with cigarette in hand. He’d been there since the morning when we’d evaded the raiders. “Those foreign devils get paid per head. They don’t care who it belongs to.”

  I looked to Chang-wei, who didn’t disagree.