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

by Wareham, Andrew

  It was often difficult to obtain proof of pirates’ misdeeds, due to their habits of killing all of their victims. Standard practice was to invite two or three of the better-spoken and more literate to turn Queen’s Evidence, to save their own lives by giving chapter and verse on the actions of their shipmates.

  “On deck! Smoke, sir, due south.”

  “Take its bearing. Identify if possible.”

  Magnus turned back to the business of conning the ship alongside the overladen boats; he preferred to make any mistake that might occur rather than passing the responsibility to Mr Whyte. He needed the experience of handling a small ship as well.

  Rather to his relief, he made a seamanlike job of bringing Bustard onto the boats with a minimum of orders and fuss. He watched as the survivors, fewer than thirty, were hoisted up and over the rail and placed under guard on the forecastle. The boats’ crews hooked on and they were drawn up to the davits, all very efficiently, he thought.

  “Mr Roberts?”

  “Two white prisoners, sir. Both Americans, I think, sir, from their accents. The guns, sir, were Krupp, ten centimetres, sir, thereabouts. Not new, but naval guns, sir, on fitted pivots, sir. A lot of Mauser rifles and various hand guns, sir – all sorts, but mostly Colts, sir. No ships books, sir – no log, no written records of any sort. No written orders. Ship in ballast, sir. No cargo, but the little I could see of the forehold was set up for carrying people, sir. After hold was in use by the crew – extra bunks and pallets, sir, and a roughed-up galley. At a guess, sir, a slaver which had been turned into a pirate with a much enlarged crew for the one excursion, sir.”

  “Well observed, Mr Roberts. Give me a full report, if you please. It will go before the Admiral, so be very sure that you have it headed up with your name.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Roberts’ promotion prospects would not be hurt by the admiral seeing his name prominently displayed.

  “Mr Whyte, could we ship a platoon of Royal Marines? Have we the facilities for them? If there are to be more of these affairs, we could use some Jollies.”

  “Difficult, sir. We are not set up for separate messes, such as the Marines must require, and there would be problems in fitting in as many as twenty more men.”

  “Pity. What’s the word on that smoke due south?”

  “None as yet, sir. Ship is not closing on us. Suggests she has lookouts at high, sir – tall mastheads as well as steam, which says a naval vessel, possibly somewhat greater than Bustard. In these waters, probably French, sir.”

  “Well, she is in international waters and has the right to do just what she wishes. Her business. Get those Americans to my cabin, in irons, separately. I must try to discover what I can of them – bloody pirates, though they will call themselves mercenaries, no doubt. I can perhaps explain the time of day to them, and try to get some answers.”

  “Your name?”

  “Reilly. I am an American citizen and demand to be put before the nearest consul.”

  Magnus stared at the little man in front of him – short and lean, wearing blood-spattered whites, cut across the face, probably from the glass in his bridge windows shattering. He was in handcuffs, the boatswain holding one arm, a very large seaman the other, both gripping firmly.

  “You are a pirate, taken under arms, without a flag, carrying concealed guns. Your ship had no papers. You will be taken into Hong Kong and put before the Admiralty Court there. You can expect to hang in double quick time. Your sole hope of living rests in cooperation, Reilly. A full and detailed explanation, naming names and ports, and you will not hang; if the information is sufficient to bring your employers to book, you may be released rather than face a life sentence in a Chinese prison. Tell lies, and I shall watch you dangle by the neck.”

  Reilly persisted in his defiance.

  “I am an American citizen. I have the right to speak to my consul.”

  “Papers? Where is your evidence of American citizenship? Can you even prove your name?”

  Reilly had no documents.

  “You have no proof that you are an American. The consul will not be interested to see you without identification as an American. You are a pirate of unknown nationality. Talk now, or make your peace with your God.”

  “But, I am an American citizen. You can’t hang me!”

  “Can and will. You are a pirate, an officer on a ship that was set up for slaving and quickly converted as a pirate. I must imagine that you were commissioned for a special task – and we have examined the cargo aboard the lorchas and know just what that task was. I want to know who hired you, what you were paid, where and when. Give me everything, and I will make you the gift of your life. Hold back and a judge will sentence you in closed court and you will swing before the month is out. The American consul will hear nothing, that I can promise you.”

  “You can’t do that… You can’t treat an American that way.”

  “Take him away, Mr Orford. Put him into the cell. Prisoner’s diet. Bring the other one in, if you please.”

  The boatswain jerked Reilly round to face the door, raised a boot and pushed him through it, hard, tripping him on the raised coaming. The seaman grabbed hold of his shirt and heaved him to his feet and ran him to the ladder down to the hold and the single ship’s cell, almost never used, a place of confinement for crewmembers caught in commission of violent crime and held for court-martial. There were no furnishings – a bare and wet iron deck, no light, no facilities.

  “If you want to relieve yourself, shout. Somebody will come, in time. Piss or shit on the deck and we’ll rub yer face in it, understood?”

  Reilly understood; he sat to think, afraid that he might be killed by his employers if he opened his mouth, certain now that he would die within the fortnight if he said nothing.

  Magnus stared at the other white officer, held upright by Orford and another hand. He had been wounded, Magnus saw, flying debris cutting him up across the body.

  “Name?”

  “I need a doctor.”

  “You get nothing, unless I think it worthwhile. Name?”

  “I ain’t saying nothing. I need a doctor.”

  “Take him away, Mr Orford. Handcuff him to a stanchion on the quarterdeck, convenient to throw him over the side when he dies.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “You can’t…”

  “Gag him as well, Mr Orford. I don’t want to put up with his noise.”

  “My name’s Norris, Buck Norris. Get me a doctor and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Magnus made a play of shaking his head.

  “Amazing, is it not, Mr Orford? You, Norris, listen while I explain, just once. You are a dead man, Norris. You have been caught in the act of piracy. You will go to court when we reach Hong Kong, and hang within days. I wish to know the details – who hired you and your ship, where, when and why. Tell me everything, and you will not hang; there is a possibility that you will be released and given your passage to the States. Talk now, and when you have answered every question, fully, I will permit the Sick Berth Attendant to come to you. We have found the rifles – and that is the most important thing. I do not need you, Norris, but you will make it easier for me if you open your mouth. Now – start talking, or start dying. Choose.”

  Norris decided to talk.

  “Mr Whyte, what speed would you expect of the remaining lorchas and the barquentine? Course for Hong Kong.”

  “With this wind, sir, and the crews cooperating – which they will do, no doubt, seven to nine knots, sir. At most, sir, say fifty-six hours, possibly as little as forty-five.”

  At full speed, Bustard would manage the four hundred miles in thirty hours and would risk losing the three captive vessels… Magnus thought it better to remain in company.

  “Course for Hong Kong, Mr Whyte. Prizes to remain in close company. Relieve prize crews as and when possible and necessary. Man the machine guns at all times, one main battery crew to remain closed-up. What is the steamer to the
south doing?”

  “Watching, sir. She is remaining hull-down. I suspect her to be French and unwilling to intercept us on the high seas, or in hot pursuit of slavers or whoever she thinks the sailing ships are, sir. I would be inclined to do the same, was I to spot a French ship in our circumstances, sir. Too many chances of a dispute flaring, sir. Better to keep clear while we may be argued to be in International Waters, sir, and in legitimate action with pirates. The French have one Laperouse class cruiser on the Indo-China station, sir – taller masts than ours. Heavier guns, being a cruiser, but said to have poor engines, sir. She would not last fifteen minutes against Centurion, sir, but would be more than we might wish to handle. She is wooden-hulled, though, sir, so might not be impossible for us now that we have quick-firers.”

  “Well, better not… Sod her, and all Frenchmen, Mr Whyte. Inform me if she changes relative position. Take that horrible object Norris to the sickbay; he is to remain under restraint at all times, an armed guard over him. I would prefer that he remains alive to testify in court. I must write my reports, Mr Whyte – that will probably take me every hour until we reach Hong Kong. We have, I suspect, done very well indeed and will probably be in Admiral Seymour’s good books for this job of work. I would be obliged to you if you would pass the word to the whole complement, officers and men alike, that I am most pleased with their behaviour over the last few hours – gunnery and seamanship alike, quite outstanding.”

  Chapter Te

  n

  The China Station

  “The consignment was aboard a small cargo-liner, Bombay Emerald, about two thousand tons, that runs between London Docks and Shanghai, calling at damned near every port in between, depending on what she has aboard, Lord Magnus. Her owners, Emerald Shipping, have a War Office contract and carry stores and ammunition and explosives to the garrisons in Egypt, Aden, India, Malaya, Singapore, Borneo and all Chinese ports. The ship is – or more likely was – ten years old and in good condition; officers are experienced men, all with good reputations, the master aged about fifty and well-regarded, his mates also with careers in front of them – reliable young men, one of them a Naval Reservist. She left Singapore some three weeks since.”

  Admiral Seymour was displeased – there had been a leak of information, some foreign power knew more than he did, had been aware that the rifles had been consigned to Bombay Emerald.

  “I knew the consignment of new rifles was due sometime soon, but had no expectations of trouble. I have sent cables to London – using the Russian overland lines, because we have no reason to suspect Russian involvement in the business. We can expect a reply within two or three days. For the while, Captain Hawkins is pursuing enquiries out here, concentrating on the German connection, the Krupp guns and Mauser rifles being indicative, he thinks. The Americans may simply have been convenient. There were American pirates in the South Pacific as recently as twenty years ago – Bully Hayes the most famous, of course. Spare bodies from their followers are still hanging about, blackbirding into Queensland mostly, but some of them running slavers from the Dutch East Indies into the Red Sea and a few on the opium run into Australia and across to San Francisco. Word is as well that there have been a few Americans, and possibly Germans, taking coolies into the French plantations in Indo-China – and they might be the source for your Reilly and Norris – thugs for hire, no more.”

  “I suspect they would call themselves ‘adventurers’, sir. Are they to be permitted to turn Evidence?”

  Admiral Seymour grimaced.

  “If I had my way, I would simply knock them over the head and throw them into the harbour. Captain Hawkins is interrogating them. If he gets enough from them, and only if, then he may recruit them to his department of dirty deeds; failing that, they may give testimony in court and then be deported to San Francisco, their names given in advance to the American authorities. The odds are that there are warrants for them outstanding in the States. If they refuse to name their employers, then they will hang. There is little doubt that Bombay Emerald has gone, and that means they killed every man aboard her – and she may have had passengers for all we yet know.”

  Magnus was sickened by that thought.

  “There were no captives aboard the steamer, sir, and Mr Roberts found no personal possessions or clothing that seemed out of place.”

  “No. Captives will not have survived long, of a certainty, Lord Magnus. You did very well, sir, to see that all was not as it should be when you met the pirates. My reports to London will make it clear that I am more than satisfied with your handling of this business. You will have a very strong commendation on your record, sir, and a Mention in Despatches.”

  The ’Mention’ was the lowest of all decorations for gallantry, could be awarded by an Admiral in the field, and came with no ribbon or medal; it was, nonetheless, a distinction, and valued.

  Magnus made his thanks, ventured to say that it might provide a welcome counter-balance to some of the other entries on his file.

  “It will go a little way, Lord Magnus. The Second Sea Lord will, of course, explain that he knew you were fundamentally sound, merely needed to be pointed in the right direction. Baron Eskdale will be glad to mention that you are his brother.”

  “That will be a first time, sir!”

  Admiral Seymour laughed – he had met Eskdale, knew his limitations.

  “Now then, your man Roberts. Did very well in this business, you say?”

  “He did, sir. First lieutenant material for a sloop, at a minimum. He showed judgement, sir, and you might perhaps consider him for lieutenant-in-command of a small gunboat or torpedo boat destroyer. He is an able man, sir, and the good of the service says that he should be promoted, much though I would like to keep him.”

  “Well said. Captain Haddisham will speak to him and make his final decision. There is a gunboat on the Yangtze that needs a captain, and the captain of one of the destroyers here is due for his next step as Commander. Mr Roberts will be given one or the other. I have two lieutenants to hand for you, and could send the commander of one of my cruisers back to England, his health being uncertain – two bouts of malaria say he would be better on a Home posting. Could your man, Whyte, take over as commander of a cruiser?”

  “He could, sir. He is too old for command of a small ship, in my opinion – he is thirty-five or thereabouts – but he could do well as second-in-command of a cruiser, or even a larger ship, sir.”

  “Make it so. There is, if I remember, something by way of a black mark against him?”

  Magnus explained Mr Whyte’s faux pas.

  “Damned near fifteen years ago, was it not, Lord Magnus? Difficult to say that he was right; hard to say he was wrong… Brave man to stand up for what he thought was correct… Damn it, I had rather reward such a man than condemn him, but only just! His posting letter will arrive as soon as I can write it. For the while, Captain Hawkins wishes to speak with you, Lord Magnus. After that, take Bustard to the powder hulk and then be ready for orders to sail – probably to Hanshan and then up coast to Shanghai. Be able to meet Miss Blantyre again, no doubt!”

  “Probably, sir. A handsome young lady, and one whose company I much enjoy. But, sir, I suspect I would be far wiser to steer well clear of her. I really cannot imagine that I would be welcomed to the Hong as a civilian, and would have no wish to be a junior officer with a rich wife calling the tune.”

  Admiral Seymour was much struck by Magnus’ apparent wisdom on the matter, and said so at length.

  “You are very right, Lord Magnus. What I would say, though, is that as a post-captain, you would have many fewer difficulties with a rich lady at your side, and as an admiral, it would be a massive advantage. But, as a Commander, you are certainly better off unwed. As you know, your promotion will depend on far more than one fortunate encounter with pirates, however well you behaved on this occasion. Their Lordships will require convincing – and little less than a Victoria Cross will achieve that in your case. Do not despair, sir, but I wou
ld suspect you are sensible to avoid Miss Blantyre’s company!”

  Captain Hawkins had a welcome for Magnus, sat him down with coffee and the offer of one of his Turkish cigarettes, an affectation that Magnus despised.

  “You met the fellow that called himself Hildesheim, Baron Hildesheim, did you not, Lord Magnus?”

  “The German spy? Yes, sir. I thought he was rather clever, sir, announcing himself to be an agent – ‘on vacation on the China coast’, was he not? We all knew what he must be, and probably thought him far the lesser man for being so obvious. I presume he discovered the details of the shipment of rifles, sir?”

  “Probably. I am sure that he sailed for Singapore with time enough to arrange for the pirate to be set on Bombay Emerald’s track. No doubt the big guns had been put aboard some time previously and she was ready and waiting in one of the small yards there. The harbour is so large and so busy, it is impossible to keep check of all that is going on. Half of the Eastern Fleet is in Singapore, and the slavers they chase are mostly based there as well!”

  “Why, sir? What is so important in two or so thousands of rifles?”

  “Face, as much as anything, Lord Magnus. It would become known that we had lost the rifles – the newest and best – and then word would get out that some warlord up the coast had them, that he possessed a brigade of infantry better armed than the British, with their own new rifles. The mockery would not be subtle.”

  “And, I presume, the word would then be quietly passed that the Germans might be able to supply more of the same sort of guns to others who wanted them. Are we certain it was the Germans, sir?”

  “No. Krupp guns on naval mountings are not so very uncommon, I am afraid, Lord Magnus. They have been sold to several countries in South America, in the Balkans, and into the Middle East; to China, for that matter. They could have been picked up by French agents, or far less likely, by Russians. The provenance of those guns is very hard to establish. If we had the guns themselves, it might be possible to discover serial numbers or such – but they are well sunk. That, by the way, is no criticism, Lord Magnus. Sunk, they cannot hang about as an embarrassment – if they are shown to have passed through French hands, then we come very close to war, again, and the government does not want that. Better far that we simply thwart their nasty little ploy, and offer one or two of our own, under the counter, as it were, while remaining the best of good friends in public. We can allow the Germans to be blamed, which is far more convenient in the current climate of political opinion; the latest cables from Home suggest war-fever in the air again. In any case, I suspect that it probably was a German affair. Your Reilly and Norris have given just enough information that we may be able to trace the payments made to them.”