The China Station (The Earl’s Other Son Series, Book 1)

by Wareham, Andrew

  Magnus was amused.

  “I was on the Port Admiral’s staff at Pompey, my last posting, sir. The Admiral’s lady was at daggers drawn with the wife of the Rear-Admiral at Portland. Same thing there, sir. Neutrality to be preserved at all costs. Talking of which, sir, what do I do if a local warlord asks for my assistance against one of his rivals who has a Prussian at his side?”

  “Pray, and send a message to the Prussian suggesting that you both stand aside. Talking of prayer, the Bishop is about to rise.”

  The guests had taken their places around the Admiral’s vast dining table and the business of the evening was about to commence, Grace to precede the first course.

  “Bishop of the Anglican Diocese of Hong Kong and South China. He made a play for Canterbury last time the See became vacant. Didn’t get it, but was rewarded with Hong Kong, which is as rich a bishopric as any in the Church. Must be pocketing fifty thousand a year, the Most Reverend!”

  “I thought bishops were Right Reverends?”

  “The richest go up a step to ‘Most’ – I suppose as well that he has a hundred million Chinese to convert – needs a bit more than your average holiness to get through that lot.”

  They assembled suitably grave expressions as the Bishop intoned a short request for the Lord to bless them as they stuffed their faces.

  “Let us now pray that the Admiral’s wife has allowed her cook to set the menu. He is expert in the preparation of food; she ain’t.”

  The meal was long and well-cooked; Magnus enjoyed it. There were Oriental influences to be detected, particularly in the three separate fish courses.

  “Worth hiring on a local man as your cook, Lord Magnus. You will – mostly – enjoy what he has to offer. A damned sight better than a naval rating will produce.”

  The lady to his left did not agree, could not quite understand why the Admiral permitted mere Chinese to cook for him.

  “I am sure you would not discover the like at Windsor Castle, Lord Magnus, or at Balmoral?”

  Magnus smiled his kindest – he did not like the sort of person who hinted at Royal friendships.

  “I would not know, ma’am. I have never visited either residence.”

  “Oh! I was sure I had seen your dear father’s name in the Court List, Lord Magnus.”

  “You will have, ma’am, but never mine, I am afraid. I leave dalliance at Court to my brother and father – I am afraid that the Navy has left me little time for an active social life.”

  The ladies eventually withdrew and the men congregated at the head of the table, sipping or swigging at their port and discussing all that was important in the colony. The Bishop – a fleshy gentleman, belly straining at his robes – was not behindhand in his appreciation of the Admiral’s decanters. His opinion was sought on the latest atrocity against the missionaries inland.

  “American, one of their enthusiastic sects, I believe, Admiral. I must say that I am never surprised to hear that they have provoked the Chinese into outrage against them. Though I do feel that the Chinks have been, shall we say, somewhat excessive in this last atrocity. Fortunately, it is not for us to deal with.”

  The Flag-Captain grimaced, whispered to Magnus.

  “Cut the man’s head off. Mass raped his wife and family before killing them as well. Destroyed the converts’ village – and all the converts with it. The local warlord has sent a message of regrets and states that he is investigating the ‘unfortunate affair’. The Americans have no ship of war in reach, and too few military on the China Station to mobilise a punitive column, so nothing will be done. Be interesting to see who sends people there next. Word is that there might be a Russian adviser turning up.”

  “Nasty way of conducting diplomacy, sir!”

  “Less than elegant, ain’t it!”

  It seemed obvious to both that the Russians had played a part in the ‘removal’ of American influence. Neither cared too much; missionaries were part of the game of empire and sometimes were removed from the playing board in rather vigorous fashion.

  “It’s not like Africa, you see, Captain Campbell. Most of Africa is no more than primitive, and the missionaries there are a useful part of the process of civilisation. In China there is an old culture and a religion that works. The people don’t worry too much about their gods and obey their laws and generally behave themselves in China – so the missionaries are a damned nuisance as far as the mandarins are concerned. In Africa, the missionaries bring law and order; in China, they are seen to destroy it.”

  Magnus had not realised that to be the case; like most British people, he had a conventional respect for the Church, but had nothing to do with it in his everyday life. He had vaguely imagined that the missionaries were good people, but had really been wholly unconcerned with their actual place in the world. It surprised him that they could be seen as useful in Africa; equally, he had not realised that they might be actively harmful in China – he had simply seen them as an extension of the local vicar – anodyne and irrelevant to all except the old maids.

  “So… what does the Navy do regarding missionaries, sir?”

  “As little as possible, Captain Campbell. When our assistance is called for, we give it. When we can, we evacuate them and keep them at a safe distance until the disorder is over. Normally, we decide when it is ‘safe’ for them to return to their missions, by which time all of their converts have scattered and their station is burned and they have to make a start from scratch – which reduces the harm they can do. The warlords know the way to play the game and can generally reduce their damage. Problems only arise when there is a major uprising, like the Tai Pings a few years ago – then the missionaries may not get the chance to run, and we have to avenge them, which just creates even more hostility. The word is that there is a lot of ill-feeling towards the God-Men again. All that we need is a plague, or a drought, or massive flooding – anything that brings the coolies to the edge of despair will do it. Then they will blame the Foreign Devils – the Gwailos - and rise against them on a massive scale. Not just the missionaries, though they will be first, but the merchants and the railways as well. Then we will be forced to go to war, of course.”

  That seemed obvious to Magnus – missionaries could be replaced quite easily, but warehouses full of silks or tea or rice cost a great deal of money, and railway tracks took months to rebuild, and required steel from England for the purpose. An attack on trade demanded the most vigorous response.

  They listened to the words of wisdom falling from the lips of their betters, knowing that these were the men who, for better or worse, made the policy and gave the orders that they must carry out, or circumvent as well as they might.

  The need to ‘Show the Flag’ was reiterated, almost all, civilian, military and clerical alike, firmly believing that the sight of warships and troops could only be beneficial.

  “They think China is like Africa, you know, Captain Campbell. The sight of a warship’s guns must terrify the natives, in their minds. They don’t know that the Chinese have been in contact with Europe for centuries and have seen guns and know that a ship can be swarmed under by a hundred junks or that a detachment of soldiers with rifles can be killed by one thousand times their numbers armed with bamboo spears. If you are willing to lose a large number of men, then guns become less important, and the mandarins and warlords are happy to lose a thousand coolies if that is what it takes to win a victory over ten British soldiers. They have a different way of thought, you see – and our lords and masters have no concept of such a thing, they are convinced that the whole world thinks like them.”

  Magnus was suddenly aware that he did not know what was going on in this alien posting; Hong Kong was foreign, and that was not acceptable to a good Victorian naval gentleman. He had always known that the British were the masters of the world, and that all of those poor people who were so unfortunate as not to be born British wished for no more than the opportunity to correct that misfortune. The flag-captain seemed to be saying that t
he Chinese were happy to be themselves and did not wish to be brought to the light of Victorian civilisation – and that was unthinkable.

  He listened to the conversation going around the head of the table and discovered that the main subject under discussion was the lack of good horses in China. Admiral Seymour, who came from a horse-racing, hunting, County family, was most upset by the failure of the Chinese to appreciate the gifts of civilisation.

  “No idea of bloodstock, you know, Meiklejohn! Cavalry horses are simply not to be found here. Even the racehorses for our track have to be brought in from Australia. The soldiers here all ride Mongol ponies – hopeless, no more than mounted infantry. We end up having to rely on the foot, you know, for not being able to keep the real horse soldiers mounted.”

  General Meiklejohn was appalled – he could not conceive of such a state of affairs.

  “Can we not bring in remounts from Australia, sir?”

  General Ponsonby-Snaithe answered him.

  “Not of quality, General. The horses from New South Wales – the ‘walers’ – are working stock, no more. You can set mounted infantry on them and they will trot for thirty miles a day without feeling any hardship, but put them into a charge and they will founder in five minutes. I went to the States, years back, and saw their ‘cow-ponies’ there. Same sort of thing – you can’t put a dragoon or a charging hussar on that breed.”

  “But… how does one run an Army without cavalry?”

  “Damned if I know, old chap, and I have been trying to find out these past five years!”

  The Navy sneered in self-satisfaction – Britain did not really need an army, they knew, not while the sailors were to hand.

  “The Army is only to be found in Hong Kong and Shanghai, Lord Magnus. They keep small garrisons in the major ports for the benefit of our people. Everywhere else, it is up to us to maintain order.”

  Magnus had spent some little time peering at his maps, knew that Shanghai was within reach of the Russian border.

  “Could not Russia take the whole of Shanghai very easily, sir? Should we not have a substantial force there?”

  “No, Lord Magnus. If we put the whole of the British Army there, the Russians could still outnumber us two to one within a week – provided, that is, that they could organise themselves sufficiently to do so. You were right, in my mind, when you said that their Empire is in a state of collapse. I do not myself, believe that Russia is any greater a threat than the Chinese, and for the same reason – their Emperor is hopeless!”

  “Then where, sir, does the power lie out here?”

  “It don’t, Lord Magnus. That’s what’s wrong with the damned place. Where you are, you have power, just as long as you remain there. Sail away, and the next man with a gun replaces you, until you come back again. There is no ruling authority. Have you ever put your finger into a glass of water, Lord Magnus?”

  Magnus had not, that he could remember. It seemed a strange sort of thing to do.

  “Try it, sir. It looks very big and impressive while it’s there, but when you take it out it don’t even leave a hole behind. Nothing remains of it.”

  “What do we do, sir?”

  “Protect the merchants, Lord Magnus. They are important because they make money and pay taxes back in England. While the ships sail from the ports along the Chinese coast, and bring their wealth to England, then we have done our job. For the rest – who cares? The Chinese ain’t worried about us, or about their own people, or about anything at all, as far as I can tell. While the warlords are willing to fill their pockets and ignore their own people, we can do nothing else. One day, Lord Magnus, and probably in your lifetime, the picture will change – there will be Chinese leaders who care about their people, and then things will be very different. But not in this decade, or next. We shall continue to be little kings in China for the time being.”

  Magnus sat back and listened and drank a little and observed the ‘rulers’ of China as they relaxed. He felt more than a little sorry for the Chinese as his thoughts turned to his new ship and the prospect of his first patrol.

  “Mr Whyte, I intend that we shall sail tomorrow. What is Bustard’s condition?”

  The First Lieutenant produced his ledgers and folders of reports and proceeded to show that the ship was ready to sail.

  “Coal is up, sir – best Welsh steam coal as well. There is an occasional problem with supplies, sir. We sometimes have to make do with Indian or Australian coals, which do not have the same calorific value, sir – they don’t burn so hot. There is some coming in from New Zealand now, sir, which is the match of the best Welsh, but still only irregular shipments.”

  “Nothing local, Mr Whyte?”

  “Not here, sir. Available in Shanghai, sir, from the mines in the north, but their coal normally goes into Russia, sir. Word is that the Japanese are trying to secure mines in Korea, for their navy.”

  “Magazines full?”

  “High, sir. Not too happy about the five-inch propellant charges, sir – some of them are old, sir. Can’t guarantee them not to be sweaty – leads to the occasional misfire, sir.”

  “Due to be replaced when we return, Mr Whyte.”

  “Good, sir. We need quick-firers, sir. Well up for small-arms ammunition, sir.”

  “Rifles?”

  “Hundred and fifty, sir, of Lee-Metfords. Magazine rifles. Bayonets, as well, though the admiral don’t like them very much. Prefers the cutlass, sir.”

  “Revolvers?”

  “Officers’ side-arms, sir. Plus one dozen for use of provosts if the need arises.”

  “Very good. Are the men practised with their rifles?”

  Lieutenant Whyte sought for the precise words.

  “Not in every way, sir, no. They can all stand guard at the brow, sir, and can make a proper salute, as you might say…”

  “How pleasing. Are they capable of firing five rounds rapid and actually hitting their target?”

  “No, sir. Well, actually, for all I know, some might be, but I have never had the opportunity to find out.”

  “Is there a range here in Hong Kong?”

  “Yes, sir, on the Kowloon side.”

  “We will arrange for the whole complement to gain experience there. For the while, parties of seamen and stokers will be brought on deck every day to learn to carry, load and fire a rifle. They must be made at least to look as if they know what they are doing. What of the other guns? Have they experience of firing them?”

  “Not the Maxims, sir – no opportunity to do so.”

  “Acceptable – they have not had the chance. They must fire them as soon as we are clear of the land.”

  “I shall inform Mr McGurk, sir.”

  “Do so. Stores, now? Are we up for provisions?”

  It took two hours, but at the end of that time, Magnus was aware of the state of his ship and was happy that he could sail on the next tide, if need be.

  “Sails, Mr Whyte. There are none bent on, I see.”

  “No, sir. They are in the sail locker, sir, kept dry, sir. High tide is just after noon tomorrow, sir, about one bell in the afternoon watch. If we give the orders immediately after the men have breakfasted, sir, then all will be ready for sailing.”

  “The orders will be to secure the sail locker for sea, Mr Whyte. We shall leave harbour under steam, and remain under steam for the whole patrol, sir. Sail belongs to ancient times, Mr Whyte. I indulged myself in a long discussion with Admiral Seymour yesterday and he agrees with me. I intend to strike down the top hamper as far as may be practical, Mr Whyte. Bustard is a steamship, sir.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Whyte did not approve; he enjoyed sailing the ship, using the old skills and mastering the sea.

  “I shall need to discover work for the hands, sir. The complement is high to allow for the needs of the sails, sir.”

  “Drill them in the skills of a landing party, Mr Whyte. Every man to handle his cutlass and fire his rifle and pistol. All to take turns on t
he Maxim guns so that we have spare crews for them. Less need to worry about the Nordenfelts, I think, but as soon as we replace the five inchers, then train up a spare crew for the big guns. The squadron may be called upon to take a field gun ashore on occasion and it will be useful if Bustard can produce the bodies.”

  Battleships and cruisers commonly carried one or two gun carriages for their smaller guns, or for specific light guns, designed to be landed, so that they could be used ashore. Naval twelve-pounders were commonly part of expeditions on shore and it was not unheard of to use guns as heavy as six-inchers in a large column. Small ships normally could offer only riflemen; trained gun crews would be welcome, in all probability, for reducing the demands made upon the big ships.

  “Bustard has not generally landed men in the past, sir. We have normally relied upon our guns to pacify the countryside.”

  Magnus wondered whether Mr Whyte might not prefer to do his fighting at a distance; not to worry, it was not as if he had signed on to be a soldier.

  “We may have occasion to go ashore more frequently in the next year or two, Mr Whyte. The word is that the Chinese are restive again, that there may be uprisings that must be suppressed. We must see what eventuates, Mr Whyte.”

  Bustard drew less than thirteen feet, fully laden, and was independent of the tides in the deep waters of Hong Kong harbour, but tradition demanded that one must sail on the top of the tide. The order flew on the signalling mast at naval headquarters and Bustard obeyed at precise high water, hands dressed for leaving harbour and saluting every senior ship as they steamed out.

  Magnus grinned, knowing that the captains of the five naval vessels in port would all be asking just why he was leaving under steam when there was a favourable wind. He was quite certain that his behaviour would be seen as scandalous by most of the officers, but that one or two might wonder whether they might not do the same.