by Gay Courter
49
Hong Kong, 1898
Dare I admit it was a relief to depart for China? I kissed the tender necks of my sons—but not the lips of my husband—and walked up the gangplank of the China and Manila Steamship Company's most luxurious steamship, the Zafiro, without looking back.
As I stood at the rail of the ship, staring at the fading coastline of India, I believed every mile passed was a marker on a much longer journey, one that would not end with my arrival in China. I had no idea whether I would be successful selling our chests in Hong Kong or with my long-range plan to wean our family's dependence from the opium trade. Nevertheless, I reminded myself that small steps, one after the other, could cover a distance as well as leaps. Besides, leaps would be foolhardy when I knew nothing of what waited on the opposite shore.
My bitterness toward Edwin's obstinacy solidified my determination to obliterate opium from my life. The knowledge that my mother had been corrupted by that flower intermingled sourly with an acceptance that the same substance had sustained me in luxury. This dichotomy had never been reconciled despite conversations with Silas and my own lofty ideals. Edwin knew this. No wonder he had accused me of duplicity. How quickly I had condemned him! How easily I had absolved myself! Why should I have expected him to relinquish his physical dependence on the substance when I had been unwilling to extricate myself from the spoils of the trade?
Much in the manner of a cork being dislodged from an ancient bottle of wine, the tossing of the ship loosened something in my mind. I saw clearly what must be done. I would liberate the Sassoons from the opium trade, yet not at once. Just as the body could not take the assault of sudden withdrawal, neither could the enterprise. The Chinese were producing more and more of their own supply. Soon it would be unprofitable to compete with them. Also, there were moralists in England who were trying to persuade the government to curtail Indian production. One of these days the Sassoons might awaken to find that our one and only commodity had been taken from us. If we planned ahead, we could pick and choose from investments in products that would increase in value. Tea was one area where the Sassoons might thrive alongside the Luddys, and there were other alternatives: cotton, jute, even ships. Wouldn't it be wonderful if Edwin could put the Luna Sassoon behind him and control the fleet of his dreams? I suspected there would be discord at first, but eventually the family would see the merit of my proposition.
If I remained sensible, I would be able to find solutions as each problem presented itself. With or without Edwin, I would settle each question. The realization that I might not have dared attempt to control the auction without his prompting, and might flinch from other bold yet essential decisions, was banished with resolutions to pursue my aims with single-minded diligence. With a sure and steady pace I would reach my goal, I concluded confidently as I turned eastward, the direction of the rising sun.
Thanks to the dependability of the mild northeasterly winds, we made the passage past Siam, through the South China Sea, and into the immense bowl of Hong Kong's harbor in less than two weeks. The ship slowed as the vessel approached the myriad islands that punctuated the approach to the harbor. Alongside came a native ship, and a pilot was hoisted on board. “Jardine's Lookout,” a sailor on the flag mast called out when he sighted a purple peak that struggled out of the mist like a finger pointing to the sky.
Jonah turned his back to the wind. “Father explained it was named the lookout because in the days before the Opium War, the clipper ships would circle until the smugglers received a signal that the moment was right to proceed across to Chuanpei Bay and into the Pearl River.”
“Why? Would they be attacked or impounded?”
Jonah threw back his head and laughed. “No, the 'danger' was the opium price on Lintin Island was too low. Only when the supplies were so diminished that the Chinese would pay a premium would they tell the ships that it was 'safe' to head into port. In that, they were hardly any different from us.”
The bustling harbor, filled with every size ship from ocean steamers to large sailing clippers, reminded me of Calcutta, except for the junks and sampans moored so closely to each other that they seemed an extension of the land itself.
“Today Hong Kong thrives on the spoils of entrepôt trade, but when Lord Palmerston first saw it, he was disappointed because the barren island had hardly a house upon it. Just look at it fifty years later.” Jonah went on to point out the government buildings, commercial structures, and warehouses, including the most impressive: Jardine, Matheson's.
“So this is the prize won in the Opium War,” I said, astonished at the prosperous port.
I remained on board until Jonah and Gulliver had seen to our luggage and had found us transportation.
“What took so long?” I said after they were done, cross because of the chilly wind and raw smells of the wharf.
“I had to find something suitable.” Jonah pointed out the closed black-and-silver sedan chair that shone in the sun. Beside it, six liveried Chinese laborers stood at alert.
“Lavishness was not necessary,” I chided.
“That is where you have made your first mistake, my dear sister. If you want the Chinese to respect you, your arrival must herald your status as the head—or as they would say, the taipan—of the Sassoon clan. Anyhow, the better class of Chinese women rarely are seen in public.”
“What do they do with them?”
“They are hidden behind their garden walls and the curtains of their palanquins.”
“Is that what I am expected to do?”
“Not exactly. From time to time they may catch a glimpse of you, but never so much as to make too many assumptions. Already tongues will wag from Kowloon to Aberdeen. They must think of you of as powerful and elusive—the Chinese love secrets.”
“I will not be locked away,” I said with good-natured peevishness in my tone, since my father had made a similar suggestion.
“That will hardly be the case. Tomorrow night you will be a guest at the governor's home. On Friday you will meet the cream of Hong Kong's Chinese society. By Monday your position should be well-established.”
“That will not make me elusive.”
“If a woman keeps her eyes open and her mouth shut, the technique can be mastered,” Jonah said, ducking playfully as I pretended to swat him.
“What do you know about women?”
“More than you think, less than I would like.”
I ruffled my brother's hair, thinking how much I liked him. A half-head taller than I and even more slender, he had a wiry yet not extremely masculine appearance. His face was pale, his bone structure delicate. Although nobody dared mention it, he most resembled our mother. He had inherited her oval face and chiseled chin, long eyelashes, and pink bow mouth. At twenty-two, many young men had a mature demeanor, but my brother had not lost his youthful softness. As much as I was charmed by his boyishness, I worried that this, added to the irrevocable fact of my sex, would handicap our negotiations. Fortunately, my brother did have a pragmatic streak.
How much better an appearance Edwin would have made, and how much I would miss his nimbleness and ability to recall precisely what he had heard or read! However, Edwin was not here, I thought with an immense longing I had not felt since I had left India. At least Jonah had been to Hong Kong previously. And, I reminded myself, we were controlling more than six thousand chests of opium—three-quarters of the current crop—opium the Chinese wanted dearly. Opium that accounted for one-sixth of the colony's revenues. My resolve stiffened. Together we could do this.
Together we had to do this.
As we made our way along the quay, Gulliver, in full Gurkha regalia, caused quite a stir. Proudly he walked next to the sedan chair through the narrow streets along the wharf. Unsettled by the crowds of Orientals, he kept one hand on the scabbard of his kukri. In a short while we came to a tramway station. After a ten-minute uphill ride through a primeval forest, improbable mansions loomed along the high ridges seventeen hundred fe
et above the harbor. Jonah directed the sedan-chair bearers to Mount Gough, the Peak. The chair seemed to tip as we wound our way up a steep hillside path in so convoluted a manner I preferred to look at the verdant mountainside rather than the precipitous drop. At last we halted at a high gate.
“Best to walk from here,” my brother suggested as he helped me down. “The Sassoon company's pied-à-terre in Hong Kong,” he said with a sweeping gesture toward a small stone house that from the outside looked like a charming home for a fairy-tale character. A glimpse of the vertiginous drop on either side, though, made my heart lurch.
“Should be pied-à-ciel, if I recall my French,” I noted as I walked down the lane to the house perched high above Hong Kong harbor. A quick comparison to Xanadu extended the sinking feeling. Once inside, however, all similarities ended.
The Sassoons had purchased the house from a British banker whose wife's tastes ran to floral chintzes and lace curtains. Since our father spent little time in the house, he had not bothered to redecorate. Because nobody had known when to expect us, the house was tidy, but much too cold for that dank January day. No logs burned in the fireplaces. No flowers adorned the tables. Gulliver seemed determined to have matters put right, but his Nepalese-tinged English could not be understood by the Chinese servants: a skinny, solemn houseboy called Chen Ah Bun and a rotund, smiling lady who said she was Su Sum. Jonah found himself in the middle, interpreting clumsily between the bewildered retainers. Within an hour we were served a passable English-style tea and plans were under way for some sort of supper, although whether Chinese or Indian or English, I could not determine.
The next morning Mr. Ming Hien Chang, the compradore for Sassoon and Company's Hong Kong offices, called on us. Jonah explained the term came from the Portuguese comprar, or buyer, and referred to the Chinese agent used by the merchant houses to buy, sell, and negotiate with his own people.
“My sympathy on the death of your esteemed, honorable father,” Mr. Ming said, bowing to Jonah and ignoring me.
My brother introduced me. The compradore gave me a perfunctory bow and turned back to Jonah.
My brother cleared his throat. “Compradore, I do not think you understand. My elder sister, Dinah Sassoon Salem, is at present the taipan of Sassoon and Company.” His bemused smile perplexed Mr. Ming. His eyes darted back and forth. Was this boy joking with him? He watched my expression for a clue.
What should I do? If I permitted Jonah to explain further, my power could be compromised. If I spoke, I might sound defensive. Yet if I could not convince this man who was in our employ, there was little likelihood I would be respected anywhere else on the island. Slowly, and in the deeper register that made me sound more serious, I began. “Mr. Ming, I must ask for your agreement to hold much of what will be discussed here in the strictest confidence.”
I waited for Mr. Ming to face me before I went on.
“Our family has suffered from the actions of a greedy and dishonest relation. With the assistance of my father, my husband and I found the discrepancies and worked to make the situation right. Because I was successful in Calcutta, my family has selected me to represent them here in Hong Kong. I cannot be successful here, however, without your advice and assistance.”
Mr. Ming's eyes flicked back to Jonah. He noted my brother's youth, and once again focused on me. I had remained sitting. Now I stood. The man's head did not reach my shoulders. He looked up. I kept my face immobile, my hands at my side. This time he bowed to me. “I am at your service, taipan.”
I offered him a seat. In a few minutes a Chinese-style tea was served in little round cups with no accompaniments of milk or sugar. Gulliver waited at attention behind my chair. Rain poured from the sky, obliterating the view. My bones began to ache with the dampness while I listened to the compradore's report on business enacted on behalf of the company. At first the man's accent was hard to follow, but soon I had caught the rhythm and was able to understand the words. The meanings behind them, though, were far more obtuse.
My father had tried to educate me in the confused state of opium trade in China: “Every time we work out an arrangement with our merchants, the governments of India, Hong Kong, and China vacillate on their positions and everything must be recalculated. I have nightmares whenever the crown sends a new governor out to Hong Kong or his celestial majesty appoints a new commissioner in Canton.”
Here was a place to begin. “Tell me, compradore, have you recent estimates on how much opium the merchants of Hong Kong require this season?”
“We keep those at the office, madam. Were you planning to come to the Prince's Buildings this week?”
I shot a glance at Jonah. Reminding me of our decision to keep me behind the scenes, he shook his head slightly. “No, most of the time I will remain here and let you gentlemen act for me.” In the compradore's eyes I thought I saw respect dimming, so I added, “That is what my father wished.”
This was true. On his deathbed my father had said repeatedly that if I were going to go to Hong Kong with Jonah and Edwin, I should leave the talking to the men. “Stay in the background, even remain in your lodgings, and have the men report back to you.” When he saw the distress his advice had given, my father had calmed me by saying how much faith he had in my ability “to put intellectual fires to work to solve a problem. It is always wisest to have someone thinking matters through while someone else acts as the mouthpiece.” Then he added, “Never try to think and speak simultaneously, or you will inevitably make mistakes. Anyway, the Chinese have enough trouble putting trust in any 'foreign devil,' and it is unwise to stretch their fragile faith to extend to negotiating with a female.”
After only a half-hour with Mr. Ming, I saw my first hurdle would be convincing our own man to follow my directives. Evasiveness had been his calling card. How could I assure him that I was really in charge? Best to press on and learn from my blunders, I decided.
I asked the question a different way. “Don't you recall any figures from the Royal Commission on opium? I understand they do a yearly report.”
There was a slight motion in the compradore's chin that might have counted as a quiver. Then he spoke. “One recent paper compiled by Governor Robinson himself estimates the consumption in Hong Kong at three chests per day.”
“That is over a thousand a year in the colony alone. Do you think that is a fair estimate?”
My question took the compradore aback. “No, I do not, taipan.”
I waited for a further explanation, but none was forthcoming. This is like pulling teeth, I seethed silently, yet I replied firmly. “Do you think the colony requires more or less?”
“More.”
“How much more?”
“Another private report circulated among the merchants showed 67,429 chests paid import excises, while 61,808 paid export taxes in 1896.”
A man clever enough to remember those figures was surely a font of essential information. If only I knew how to extract it! “That means 5,621 chests remained on the island.”
Mr. Ming Hien Chang's eyes gleamed with respect for the first time. To think simple arithmetic was all it took. “Yes, that indicates that more than five times the official amount is required. However, there is a small opium-growing industry on the island that cuts into that figure significantly.”
“How far?”
No response.
“By half?”
“No, possibly by a third.”
“Even so, most of the chests merely pass through Hong Kong on their way to the mainland. Is that correct?”
“Yes, taipan.”
Good, I thought silently. As we had hoped, everything pointed to an exceedingly healthy marketplace. If we remained firm with our Chinese merchants, we could drive the prices to the levels we desired. Matters had gone so well that I almost broached the matter with the compradore then and there. Some streak of caution, however, warned me not to rush. I turned the topic to the inclement weather for the duration of the tea.
Th
e next morning an invitation to the governor's dinner party was delivered with the breakfast tray. Along with the handwritten card came a letter from the governor's secretary apologizing for the last-minute nature of the invitation, which had been necessary since we had arrived just the day before. “We will understand if you are too exhausted from your journey to visit tonight. Unfortunately, the weekend is complicated by the festivities that accompany the Chinese New Year.” He went on to explain that we were also welcome the week after that, either for the first time or as a second visit.
“How did they know we were in Hong Kong, and how did you know we would be invited?” I asked my brother in amazement.
“There are few secrets on a small island.” He winked, then explained, “When we wired ahead to the office, they took care of everything, from opening the house to planning our social calendar. Anyway, do you want to go?”
“Certainly. I do hope the British will be more forthcoming than the compradore.”
“Now, sister, I hope you won't interrogate the governor.”
“Why ever not?” I teased, and went off to enlist Su Sum's help with my clothes.
I decided on the plum gown, sans ostrich plumes, that I had worn to the auction. It had brought luck, and besides, it was the most astonishing item in my wardrobe. Though Jonah looked handsome in his evening clothes, he was no match for Gulliver, resplendent in his white uniform.
“Where will Gulliver remain while we are in the dining room?” Jonah asked.
“At my side, as always.”
“He can't stay with you during dinner.”
“I will ask him to wait outside.”
“He doesn't always do as you say.”
“He will if I promise to leave the room through the doorway he is guarding.”
“Dinah, he isn't your jailer. He's your servant.”