The Blue Dress Girl

by E. V. Thompson

  Her disapproval was shared between Kernow and Arthur Calvin who lay in an exhausted sleep with his head resting on Kau-lin’s lap.

  ‘It’s daylight. The typhoon’s passed on and we’re going to search the hill where the shacks stood. There’s far more to be done than we can cope with. Do you think you might persuade the commanding officer at the barracks to send some of his men to help us?’

  ‘Of course.’ The arm about She-she had lost its feeling. When he tried to pull it free he was awkward and woke her. She came to with the terror of the night flooding back, but when she looked up at Kernow the fear subsided.

  She did not see Hannah until the missionary spoke to her. ‘Will you go to the hospital, She-she? A great many injured people are being brought in. Doctor Jefferies will need all the help he can get.’

  ‘I’ll go too.’ When Esme spoke her voice was hoarse as a result of singing in competition with the typhoon. ‘But I need to find something more practical to wear than this curtain.’

  ‘One of the orderlies will find you a tunic,’ said Hannah, disapproval of Kernow and She-she still evident when she glanced in their direction. ‘Perhaps you will wake Mr Calvin before his mother comes in search of him. Then I think you can best help by bringing some order to the kitchen. Cook everything you can find – and make tea. Gallons of tea. It’s going to be a harrowing day.’

  When Hannah left them, Esme drew the curtain about her upper body and struggled to her feet with many groans. The object achieved, she unexpectedly beamed at Kernow and She-she. ‘I fear Mrs Jefferies is not of a romantic disposition. Such a pity. When I woke earlier I thought the pair of you made one of the most winsome pictures I have seen for a long time. Arthur and Kau-lin too. I’ll leave you to wake them. It would embarrass dear Arthur far more were I to do it.’

  Kernow found he too was stiff. As he was about to rise to his feet he looked at She-she. She was quite obviously very tired and her hair was more untidy than he had ever seen it, but he thought she looked beautiful. Merely looking at her made him want to reach out and touch her. Acting on impulse he leaned forward and kissed her very lightly on the lips.

  The Royal Naval barracks had been well secured before the typhoon struck. As a result damage had been kept to a minimum. Consequently the commanding officer was able to release a great many naval ratings to help with rescue work on the typhoon-devastated island. Kernow did not return to the mission with them.

  A message awaited him at the barracks. He was to report immediately to the admiral’s office. After changing into uniform he hurried away to obey the command.

  The scene inside the naval headquarters was chaotic, although the building itself had suffered less damage than most others. It had a flat roof and there had been no tiles to be ripped off. However, during the typhoon a window shutter had been ripped from its hinges and the ferocious wind had smashed through the glass to wreak havoc inside.

  In the midst of the chaos Admiral Seymour sat at his desk, flanked by his flag-lieutenant and a secretary, both of whom were writing at great speed. Officers far senior to Kernow arrived ahead of him to receive orders from the admiral. All departed in great haste to carry them out.

  ‘Ah, Keats! Glad to see you’re safe. I understand the area around the mission hospital suffered particularly badly from the typhoon. I’ve got a special task for you. One that will put your knowledge of the Chinese language to the test – how are the lessons coming along, by the way?’

  Kernow was impressed. The admiral had the awesome responsibility of locating every missing ship in the Far Eastern Fleet. Yet not only had he remembered Kernow’s name but had made time to ask about his progress at the mission school.

  ‘I can make myself understood, sir.’

  ‘Good. Very good. What I have in mind will also call for a great deal of tact – something that’s not always found in a young officer.’

  ‘I’ll do my best not to let you down, sir.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. I have every faith in you, my boy. Have you ever sailed a lorcha?’

  Many bastardised craft had put in an appearance about the Chinese coast since the arrival of Europeans on the scene. Each was an attempt to improve upon the sailing qualities of the vessels of East and West. The lorcha was a Portuguese innovation. With a European-style hull and the sails of a Chinese junk, it was a combination that seemed to work comparatively well.

  ‘I’ve been on board one, sir, but I never actually sailed it.’

  ‘Then I’m afraid you’ll need to learn as you go along. Nothing else of any size has survived the typhoon. I want you to go up the Canton River. Take a crew of a dozen naval ratings and try to find out what’s happened to the two frigates we had up there. They were last reported somewhere in the vicinity of the Bogue forts. The chances are they were driven ashore. You’ll need to question any locals you can find about the fate of their crews. Think you can do that?’

  ‘I’ll do my very best, sir.’

  ‘That’s all I ask of you, Mister Keats, but spend no more time ashore than is absolutely necessary. The Chinese in that area are not renowned for their friendliness towards the British. I don’t hold out a great deal of hope for our men. Any sailors who found their way ashore are likely to have been picked up and had their heads sent to the Viceroy with a complaint that they were trespassing outside the permitted areas. The same thing could happen to you and your men, remember that. Be careful, Mister Keats – and good luck.’

  The lorcha was not the easiest of craft to sail. A young midshipman who, with eleven other Royal Naval sailors, had been sent to crew the ship, commented to Kernow that: ‘Only the Portuguese could have put such a vessel together.’

  It was perhaps a little unfair. Lorchas had a proven record of seaworthiness in the waters around the Chinese coast. However, Kernow had to admit the vessel was not the most manoeuvrable of craft in the tidal estuary of the Canton river, swollen as it was in the aftermath of the typhoon.

  When Kernow reached the mouth of the river guarded by the Bogue forts, he found the water thick with debris of every description. Trees, roof timbers, rubbish of all types – and bodies. There was so much floating in the swollen current that navigation was a problem. Cautiously, Kernow took the ungainly craft close to the Chinese-manned forts, expecting every minute to hear the boom of a cannon and see a round shot splash in the water nearby.

  After a while it became apparent the Chinese were far too busy repairing damage caused to their forts by the great wind and torrential rains. They did not view a small, lightly armed lorcha as a threat to the Chinese nation.

  There was nothing to indicate the whereabouts of the two frigates. Kernow wanted to believe they had headed for the open sea as soon as the barometer began dropping. Realistically, he doubted very much whether they would both have left their patrol area, whatever the weather promised.

  Had they still been in these waters when the typhoon struck it would have proved impossible to tack against the wind. With this in mind, Kernow concentrated his search on the northernmost coast of the estuary.

  It was not an easy task. Wreckage and seaweed was spread for hundreds of yards inland, making it difficult to pick out any particular item. Then, after two hours of searching, one of the look-outs gave a shout.

  ‘There’s something over there that might be part of a ship’s boat, sir. It’s hard to be sure because there’s so much weed all around it.’

  After peering through a telescope for some minutes, Kernow agreed it was probably the wreckage of a small boat. He ordered the lorcha to be run close inshore. When they were as close as they dared approach a dinghy was lowered and three men went ashore to investigate the find.

  Minutes later they called back to the lorcha with confirmation. It was a Royal Navy boat and largely intact.

  ‘What do we do now, sir?’ asked the midshipman, uncertainly. ‘It could have been washed over the side from one of the frigates during the typhoon.’

  ‘I doubt it. Had it been, it wou
ld be little more than a heap of splintered wood. I’d say that boat was brought ashore by men who knew what they were doing.’

  Even as he was talking to the young midshipman, Kernow was deciding on his next move. ‘Recall the dinghy. I’ll take another five men ashore with me. You and the others remain on board. There seems to be a small village about a mile inland. I’ll go there and see what can be learned. Keep the lorcha offshore and a sharp look-out for the Chinese navy. If we’re not back by dark, or if you’re threatened by any Imperial junks, you’re to return to Hong Kong and report to the admiral. Don’t risk losing the lorcha. The admiral needs every vessel he has left. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ll call the dinghy back right away.’

  The midshipman hurried off to recall the dinghy, flushed with pleasure at the prospect of assuming command of the lorcha. Kernow remembered his own excitement at being put in charge of a boat sent off to board the Hoppo of Canton’s junk in this very part of the Canton river estuary, only a few months before. It seemed an age ago.

  Chapter 16

  ON THE WAY to the village with eight sailors from the lorcha, Kernow witnessed the havoc caused by the typhoon here on the mainland. The sheer volume of rain, combined with floods pouring from the hills, had totally ruined the growing crops. The next few months would be difficult for the people hereabouts.

  As Kernow and the sailors drew closer to the village the damage caused to the flimsy houses became apparent. However, Kernow thought the main centre of the typhoon had probably passed some distance away. Had this village been on Hong Kong island there would not have been a single building left standing.

  The villagers were busily clearing up after the storm – but their hostility was evident. Kernow was glad he and his men were well armed. He knew this was the only reason the British sailors did not come under immediate attack. Even the children were anti-European. They ran close to the hated Fan Qui and spat at them, then raced back to the safety of their friends. It was significant that their actions did not bring a single word of admonishment from their elders.

  Kernow asked to speak to the headman of the village. It was a request that needed to be repeated many times before an elderly, wispy-bearded man came forward and admitted that he was the village spokesman. He denied that any other Fan Qui had been in the area, either before or after the great storm, adding that none had been seen there since the war with Britain, twenty-five years before.

  Despite the villagers’ antagonism towards the Fan Qui and their obvious dislike of the sailors, the headman suggested they should all stay and take food with him. Kernow declared his intention of returning to the ship. If the missing sailors were not here he would need to search elsewhere for them. When the headman became more insistent Kernow grew uneasy.

  ‘There’s something very wrong here,’ he said to the petty officer who held the next senior rank to himself. ‘They make no secret of hating us, yet are desperately trying to persuade us to stay and eat with them. What does that suggest to you?’

  The petty officer was a large, slow-talking West Countryman, who looked all around him before he spoke. ‘I’d say they have more inside their sleeves than arms, sir. They can hardly have enough food for themselves after the typhoon.’ He looked calmly at Kernow. ‘Hasn’t the Viceroy of this province put out a reward for the capture of an Englishman?’

  ‘That’s right. Viceroy Yeh made the proclamation some time ago. I don’t think it’s ever been cancelled. My bet is the headman’s sent word to the local magistrate that we’re here. Let’s get back to the lorcha now – but easy does it. No panicking, or we’ll have a howling mob after us. We don’t have ammunition enough to deal with all of them.’

  Kernow and the English sailors were not even halfway back to the shore across the muddy, storm-flooded fields when they saw the result of the villagers’ scheming. A large body of horsemen was making for the village. Coming from the direction of the Bogue forts, the horsemen were riding hard.

  ‘Run, men, but stay together!’

  Even as Kernow called the orders, the horsemen changed direction. Now they were heading straight for the sailors who floundered through the flooded fields. Either they had seen the Fan Qui trying to make their escape, or someone from the village had signalled to them.

  It soon became clear to Kernow that he and his men were not going to outstrip the horsemen. Suddenly the petty officer came to a halt.

  ‘They’ll be up with us before we reach the shore, sir. Leave me half-a-dozen muskets and I’ll try to hold them back long enough for you and the others to get on board the lorcha.’

  ‘No.’ Kernow came to a halt and shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of resignation. ‘You’d be throwing your life away for nothing. We wouldn’t make it either. Look!’

  He pointed towards the shoreline. A strip of land just back from the water had been raised by generations of Chinese farmers in a bid to prevent high tides spilling over and inundating the crop-growing fields. Along this strip at least forty more horsemen were galloping to where the lorcha was turning and heading out into the estuary. The midshipman on board was carrying out Kernow’s instructions. The race to reach safety had already been lost.

  ‘Where shall we stand and fight, sir? There’s a small heap of rocks over there.’

  ‘We’d be cut down within minutes. There’s a time for fighting and a time for talking. Right now I think you’d better hope my Chinese is good enough to get us out of trouble. Put down your guns, men. Put them down, I say.’

  He needed to repeat his order because some of the men hesitated, waiting to follow the petty officer’s lead.

  ‘But, sir, we’d kill one or two before they killed us.’

  ‘You’d be no less dead, petty officer. You see that red flag, edged with gold? That’s telling the world these are Tartar horsemen, the fiercest of all the Imperial Chinese soldiers. One single shot from us and we’ll all be dead in no time. Put your guns down – and quickly. It’s our only chance.’

  The horsemen were almost upon them. If the slaughter began nothing would put an end to it but the death of all the Fan Qui.

  The sailors dropped their weapons and stood forlornly awaiting the arrival of the Tartar horsemen. The flooded fields slowed the horses, but it was only moments before the first horseman reached the unarmed men. The Tartar had a sword in his hand. As he approached he raised it high in the air then lowered it again, seemingly uncertain of what to do next.

  This was exactly what Kernow had been hoping would happen. Stepping forward with his right hand held up, palm forward, he said in Chinese, ‘We come in peace to search for men who were lost in the typhoon.’

  The Tartar soldier raised his sword once more – and lowered it yet again. Other horsemen splashed to a halt, surrounding Kernow and the sailors.

  After long moments of uncertainty one of the mounted Tartars pushed his way through the group. Perhaps two years older than Kernow, he was swarthy-skinned and wore a uniform the colours of the banner carried by one of his men. The Tartar looked down at Kernow for some minutes before speaking.

  ‘I am Shalonga, captain of my father’s army. Are you so contemptuous of the Chinese that you launch an invasion with only eight men?’

  Kernow tried to hide the relief he felt. This was hardly an opening gambit from a man who intended slaughtering them.

  ‘We are few because we come in peace, on a mission of mercy. I seek sailors from two ships believed to have been lost in the typhoon.’

  ‘Many ships were lost. Many lives on land too. Why are these men so special?’

  Kernow knew it would be no use lying to the bannerman captain. ‘They belong to the English Navy. My admiral ordered me to look for them.’

  ‘Why here? Why choose this village?’

  ‘We found a ship’s boat on the shore. I think the villagers know something of the sailors, but they would not tell me.’

  Shalonga looked thoughtful for a few moments. Then he said, ‘We will go to the v
illage and speak to the headman.’

  Kernow was more heartened than ever by their conversation. Had the Tartar officer intended killing them, he and his men would all be dead by now.

  No attempt was made to secure the British sailors. Indeed, no restraint was necessary. They were entirely at the mercy of the Tartars.

  On the way to the village, the Tartar officer rode alongside Kernow. He seemed in a talkative mood. ‘Where have you and your men come from?’

  ‘From Hong Kong.’

  ‘You suffered much from the typhoon there?’

  ‘It was very bad. Thousands were killed and there has been much damage.’

  ‘It was not so bad here, and at Canton it was no more than a summer storm. But typhoons are sent as a lesson to us all, Fan Qui. Our war machines are as nothing compared to the weapons of the Gods.’

  Kernow thought it was a strange way for a fierce Tartar soldier to be talking, but he made no comment. A few minutes later Shalonga kneed the horse he was riding and took his place at the head of his horsemen.

  By the time the Tartars and their prisoners had reached the village the whole population had turned out to meet them – and now they were openly hostile. It was not only the children who spat at the Fan Qui. The women did too, and many of the men aimed blows at the sailors, using fists and sticks.

  An order from Shalonga put an end to the one-sided attack. He gave a clipped command to his men and they beat back the villagers using the flat edge of their swords. The blows struck by the horsemen were far harder than those aimed at the prisoners. Kernow realised there was little love lost between the Tartar horsemen and the Cantonese villagers.

  As though reading his thoughts, Shalonga reined his horse in beside Kernow once more. ‘If we were Taiping rebels and you were captured Tartars they would behave in the same way. Such people as these are always on the side of the victor, even though he might be last week’s enemy.’

  Wondering what sort of officer this was, Kernow said, ‘You have a low opinion of your people.’