Her words brought some reassurance to the blue dress girls. Most were from simple backgrounds, brought up in villages where superstition loomed large in community life. Hannah Jefferies’ open manner coupled with her impressive command of their language had reassured them.
His assigned task successfully concluded, Kernow told the coxswain of the pinnace to secure the boat and take his crew to the new naval depot, recently established nearby on the waterfront. The four Royal Marines would go with them. After spending the night ashore they would all return upriver to the Sans Pareil the following day.
Leaving the coxswain to carry out his orders, Kernow set off for the naval headquarters building. It was his duty to make a report on his skirmish with the river pirates. He also had some despatches to deliver, entrusted to him by the captain of the Sans Pareil.
A Lieutenant Baker was duty officer at the Royal Navy headquarters building. Baker was one of a very small band of naval officers to be granted a commission after serving for many years as a rating on the lower decks of Her Majesty’s men-o’-war. Old enough to be Kernow’s grandfather, Baker recognised the elation felt by a young man who has carried out a successful action as commanding officer of a ship’s boat.
When Kernow had given his verbal report, Baker said, ‘You’ve had a very exciting couple of days, Mister Keats.’
Kernow grinned at the older man. ‘It’s what I joined the Royal Marines for, sir.’
‘Quite. All the same, you handled the situation with the pirate junk very well. Very well indeed. You stay here for a while, lad. I’m going to have a word about you with the flag-lieutenant.’
The flag-lieutenant was the admiral’s aide-de-camp, and for Kernow to be brought to his attention was tantamount to a commendation. When he tried to thank the elderly officer, Kernow was told to take a seat and await the duty officer’s return.
Kernow could not sit still after the excitement of the day. When the duty officer had gone, he stood up and paced about the room, until he was attracted to the window by the sounds from outside.
The headquarters overlooked the busy harbour foreshore. As sampans and lighters plied to and from the ships anchored in the harbour, long lines of coolies trotted between beached boats and a newly built warehouse. Each was burdened beneath an incredible load. It would have brought strong protests from the well-meaning European ladies of Hong Kong had the loads been carried upon the backs of donkeys.
Engrossed in the scene outside, Kernow did not hear the duty officer return to the office. When he spoke, Kernow started in surprise.
‘This is your day for glory, Mister Keats. The admiral himself was in the office when I spoke to the flag-lieutenant about you. He was very impressed when I described your brush with the river pirates. He wants to meet you.’
‘The admiral wants to meet me?’ Kernow repeated, uncertainly.
‘That’s what I said – and you’d best be quick about it. Sir Michael Seymour is a very busy man, these days.’
The offices in the headquarters building opened off an open corridor that was more in the nature of a balcony, fashioned to take advantage of any welcome breeze blowing in off the hill-enclosed harbour.
Straightening his tunic and white webbing belt hastily, Kernow walked along the corridor in the wake of the duty officer. He was far more nervous about meeting Admiral Sir Michael Seymour, the naval commander-in-chief, than he had been of doing battle with the Chinese river pirates.
But this was to be no formal interview. Admiral Seymour was seated on the edge of his flag-lieutenant’s huge wooden desk, sipping from a glass of cold China tea.
Bringing his feet together noisily in a stiff posture of attention, Kernow snapped off a smart salute. It would have met with the full approval of the drill instructor on board H.M.S. Excellent, the Royal Marines’ training ship at Portsmouth.
‘At ease, Mister Keats. Lieutenant Baker tells me you had an encounter with Chinese pirates today. Left them badly mauled, I believe. Tell me about it.’
Kernow related the details of the pinnace’s skirmish with the pirate junk, once again calling attention to the skilful part played by the coxswain-gunner from the Sans Pareil.
The admiral listened intently to Kernow’s account. When it ended he rose to his feet and punched the fist of one hand into the palm of the other.
‘Well done, Keats. Well done indeed! What wouldn’t I give to be involved in an incident like that once again? It reminds me of when I was a young midshipman at Navarino….’
The flag-lieutenant and duty officer braced themselves for one of the admiral’s notoriously long and detailed stories, but he caught a glimpse of their exchange of glances and held himself in check.
‘I’ll see that a commendation is awarded to the coxswain through his commanding officer.’ Halting before the young Royal Marine, Sir Michael Seymour looked thoughtfully at Kernow. ‘But what am I going to do with you, Mister Keats? How old are you now, and how long is it since you left the training ship?’
‘I’ll be eighteen in a few months’ time, sir – and I left H.M.S. Excellent close to two years ago.’
‘What of your family, Mister Keats? Where are they?’
‘My mother is dead, sir. My father and two older sisters live in the family home, in Cornwall.’ After a slight hesitation, Kernow added, ‘My father was a captain of Royal Marines, sir. He left the corps when he lost a leg in the China wars in eighteen-forty-two.’
‘Ah! Then you have the service in your blood, Mister Keats. Your father will be proud of you when he learns of your actions today … and with just cause.’
Admiral Sir Michael Seymour looked at Kernow speculatively. He saw an eager young Royal Marine officer, tall, smooth-shaven, with blue eyes and fair hair, characteristics that were accentuated by a tropical sun-tan. Kernow looked very fit.
The admiral thought this young man a fine example of the junior officers being recruited by both the Royal Navy and Royal Marines. They had boundless enthusiasm. Given experience they were all capable of becoming first-class admirals and generals, men able to shoulder the heavy responsibility of defending their country’s ideals. To them would fall the task of extending the great empire conquered by their predecessors.
‘Do you have any aptitude for learning foreign languages, Mister Keats?’
Kernow’s quick blink hid his surprise at the unexpected question. It seemed totally unconnected with anything that had gone before. The two naval officers in the room seemed equally bemused.
‘I speak good French, and passable Italian, sir. I’ve also picked up one or two Chinese phrases since I arrived on the station.’
‘Excellent!’ The admiral cast a triumphant glance at the two naval lieutenants. ‘You’re just the sort of young man I’ve been looking for. I’d like you to join my staff as a Chinese interpreter.’
Kernow could not disguise his astonishment and dismay. ‘But … I don’t understand sufficient Chinese to be an interpreter.’
‘You will. I was speaking to Hannah Jefferies the other day. She was telling me she intends commencing some pretty intensive Chinese classes for three or four new missionaries who’ve recently arrived in Hong Kong. She thought it a splendid idea when I suggested sending one of my staff along to join them. I’ve thought for a long time now that I need an Englishman as an interpreter. Trouble with these damned Chinese is one can never be sure which side they’re on. Not to mention the money they make by “forgetting” to tell me many of the things I ought to know when I’m involved in negotiations with Chinese officials. I’ve been looking out for a bright young man to fill the post. I think you fit the bill.’
‘But what about the Sans Pareil, and the pinnace … my kit?’
It was a series of foolish questions, as Kernow realised the moment he had uttered them. His kit would be safe on the Sans Pareil until the man-o’-war returned to Hong Kong harbour, and the loss of a young second lieutenant of Marines would hardly bring the ship’s routine to a halt.
The admiral dismissed the questions with a brief wave of his hand. ‘The coxswain of your pinnace sounds as though he’s quite capable of taking the boat back upriver to the Sans Pareil. He’ll carry a letter from my flag-lieutenant informing the captain of your appointment to my staff. Arrangements will be made to send your kit to you. Does that meet with your approval, Mister Keats?’
Determined to raise no more foolish objections, Kernow nodded his head. ‘Of course, sir. Thank you.’
‘Good, then it’s settled. My flag-lieutenant will allocate quarters to you. By the way, when did you say you’ll be eighteen?’
‘The fourteenth of August, sir.’
‘You will be promoted to substantive lieutenant on that day, Mister Keats, as a reward for your actions today. It should give a useful boost to your career, but I will expect you to work hard for me in return. Good day to you, Mister Keats.’
Chapter 8
KERNOW’S FIRST DAY at the mission school was a difficult one. Not a deeply religious young man, he felt uncomfortable during fervently spoken prayers which preceded morning and afternoon lessons, and which enclosed the midday meal like a thick-bread sandwich.
The mission school was in the same building as the hospital and situated with a view of the foreshore of the growing town of Victoria. Through the open windows Kernow could hear the clamour of the waterfront as he worked. As he began struggling with the complexities of the Chinese language he would have given a great deal to be out there, surrounded by familiar sounds and smells, and people who lived their lives motivated by mere earthly ambitions.
Kernow’s language-course companions did little to ease his sense of isolation. There were four of them. Most prominent was Esme Pilkington. A large, loud-voiced, energetic woman in her mid-forties, her accent told the world she came from a ‘good’ family background. Her ‘Allelujahs’ during the prayers drowned the responses of her companions and she attacked her language studies with the same whole-hearted enthusiasm she applied to everything else.
Two of the remaining three students were equally dedicated, although they were content to be dominated by the ebullient personality of Miss Pilkington.
Nancy Calvin, her husband Ronald and son Arthur were from the city of Birmingham, in the industrial Midlands of England. Husband and wife were quietly devout Christians who relied upon faith to solve every one of life’s problems for them. They had hitherto done very little on their own initiative. However, such was their joy at being committed Christians, they wished the whole world to share their experience. They never doubted for one moment that the Chinese nation would be as delighted as themselves to learn about Jesus Christ and would rejoice with them in love of Him.
Kernow believed their eventual disillusionment would prove painful beyond belief. His unspoken opinion was that the Mission Society was irresponsible in sending such people to China. Unimpeachable in their love of God and total belief in His greatness, they were woefully lacking in worldliness.
Arthur Calvin, a nervous young man of twenty-four, did not share the unshakeable faith of his parents. In fact, he seemed to believe in nothing at all with any degree of conviction. This lack of faith extended to his own person. His manner was one of permanent apology.
By the time the day was ended, Kernow was entertaining doubts about his own ability to survive the language course.
Lessons ended at four o’clock in the afternoon, as the day had begun, with a prayer. Afterwards, each pupil left the mission classroom clutching a book in which would be recorded their progress in the weeks and months ahead. Within its covers were a number of words for them to memorise in preparation for the following day’s lessons. As the words were concerned solely with prayer and faith, Kernow could not foresee their application to war and the needs of the armed services. But he had been given his orders by the admiral – and this was only his first day. He would not allow his doubts to show so quickly.
Kernow did not know the others well enough to want to remain in their company after lessons were over. They had insufficient knowledge of the Chinese language as yet for it to be common ground between them. He left the classroom alone. As he walked along the corridor that linked school and hospital with the main entrance, he saw Doctor Jefferies talking to a Chinese medical orderly.
The sight of the tall, hook-nosed doctor reminded Kernow of the errand that had brought him to Hong Kong. When the doctor inclined his head in acknowledgement, Kernow paused to speak.
‘Good afternoon, Doctor Jefferies. How is the wounded Chinese girl?’
‘Young She-she? Much better now I’ve removed a sliver of wood from her body. It was pressing against a kidney and causing her great pain. How your ship’s surgeon came to overlook it I don’t know.’
Kernow grimaced. ‘Surgeon Fox’s reputation rests heavily on the speed with which he can amputate a shattered limb at the height of a battle. I’ve heard no one mention any other skills.’
Doctor Jefferies snorted derisively. ‘Such so-called “skills” can be learned at the butcher’s block. I have long questioned the capabilities of surgeons employed by the army and navy, especially those who serve in Her Majesty’s men-o’-war. Unfortunately, their shortcomings pass unnoticed in the heat of battle and the fog of gunsmoke.’
Aware he had stumbled upon a subject about which the mission doctor felt very strongly, Kernow attempted to change the conversation quickly. ‘Will you be releasing the Chinese girl soon?’
‘Not just yet. We’ve a way to go before she’s quite ready to face the world again.’ Hugh Jefferies scrutinised Kernow’s face before adding, ‘She-she is a very pretty young thing. Come along with me and see her progress for yourself.’
‘I’m not at all sure I’ll aid her recovery. She seems to find me frightening.’
Doctor Jefferies smiled. ‘It’s nothing personal, I can assure you. The Chinese race lacks the variety of eye and hair colouring that we Europeans take for granted. Consequently it takes some of them a while to become used to blue eyes and fair hair, especially those brought up in the more remote villages, but it comes with time.’
As he spoke, the mission doctor was leading Kernow along the corridor to the hospital wing of the mission building.
She-she and Kau-lin were in a two-bedded room at the rear of the hospital. Much to Kernow’s delight, She-she was propped up in bed, looking far healthier than she had during the voyage to Hong Kong. Kau-lin was seated on the edge of her friend’s bed. Between the two girls was a board drilled with a number of shallow holes, each containing a coloured bead. It appeared to Kernow to be a type of complicated game.
Doctor Jefferies greeted the two girls in their own language and was rewarded with smiles from each of them.
Kernow had only that day learned the Chinese phrase for ‘Good day’, but his use of the words drew blank stares from both girls.
‘I’m afraid you are speaking the Chinese of the Mandarins,’ explained the doctor. ‘These are simple Hakkas who are more used to speaking in Cantonese. They do understand the Chinese of their superiors, but I’m afraid you have not quite mastered the necessary tonal differences needed to make it recognisable to them.’
‘I can see that learning Chinese is going to be a great deal more difficult than I anticipated,’ said Kernow, sheepishly.
She-she said something to the mission doctor and when he nodded his head she shyly looked in Kernow’s direction and said haltingly in English, ‘Good day, Lieutenant Keats.’
Kernow’s expression of astonishment caused both girls to clap their hands in delight and for a moment the faintest of smiles softened the stern lines of Doctor Jefferies’ face.
‘It seems my wife has been busy here too, Mister Keats – and apparently with greater effect than in the mission classroom. You are honoured. She-she must have asked especially for your name in order that she might greet you in the correct fashion.’
Sensing just the faintest hint of disapproval in the mission doctor’s manner, Kernow made no attempt to pursue
a near-impossible conversation with She-she, much as he enjoyed simply looking at her. Instead, he addressed the doctor.
‘I’m very happy to see She-she looking so well. There was a time on the voyage when I wasn’t at all sure she was going to survive.’
‘Had she remained on the Sans Pareil I believe she would be dead now,’ said Doctor Jefferies, bluntly. ‘But we won’t pursue that line of thought. I’ll tell She-she you’re delighted to see her recovering so well.’
As the mission doctor passed on a message that was a great deal longer than the few words he had suggested, She-she’s gaze remained fixed on Kernow’s face. There was still uncertainty in her expression, but she seemed to have conquered her fear of him and a childlike curiosity occasionally came to the fore to bring life to her dark brown eyes.
When she replied to the doctor, Kernow noticed how soft and gentle her voice was. When she ended, a trace of a smile lingered around her mouth.
‘She-she is grateful to you for your concern, Mister Keats. She also wishes me to thank you for bringing her safely to Hong Kong and says she is no longer frightened of you.’
The doctor fingered his short grey beard. ‘What she actually said is that she no longer looks upon you as being a frightening hairy foreign devil. Regrettably, this is the way the Chinese see us. It makes it extremely difficult to spread the word of God when you’re looked upon as belonging to the other side.’
‘So that’s why she seemed so terrified every time I came close to her!’ Kernow hesitated. ‘Will you ask her if there’s anything she needs?’
The missionary doctor’s disapproving expression returned again and Kernow hastened to give him an explanation. ‘I led the boarding party that took the junk on which she was travelling to Foochow. That was when she received her wound. I feel in some way responsible for her … for all the girls.’
The Blue Dress Girl Page 6