The Secret Mandarin

by Sara Sheridan

  Our men kept below deck and together. Robert and I visited them regularly. On the first day we spent over two hours calming them and by means of drawing a rough map helped them understand the route of our journey. I described Hong Kong and made promises of a fine feast once we had docked.

  ‘Dim sum,’ I promised, ‘and roast pork.’

  Most recovered their stomachs as the storm subsided and the promise of a square meal heartened them.

  ‘You are good for morale,’ Robert said.

  ‘They are afraid. We must promise them the familiar as a comfort.’

  Robert nodded and later I heard him in conversation with one of the lead men, discussing the germination of the tea seeds in the cases, and expressing his own preference for black tea rather than green.

  It was on board the Island Queen that I took the decision on our first day at sea to allow my hair to grow back. It was a landmark, of sorts, for in that I recognised my travelling was soon to be over. Late that afternoon, when we were underway, I had Wang bring up my case from Ning-po. Slowly, I pulled out all my silks, my bodices and corsets. The colours were pale compared to the attire I was now accustomed to—brash Chinese shades that shone in the sunshine. As I drew one gown and then another to my face my skin seemed to lighten and I looked like a woman once more. I scrubbed myself clean and then stood for an hour piling up my hair and securing it with combs and pins until the shaved part of my scalp was obscured. I looked elegant, even sophisticated, as I slipped on my lace-up boots and a plain, cotton day dress in the palest blue. My waist was tinier than ever, I warranted myself. And yet in the mirror I was a stranger.

  When Robert came to the cabin his face broke into a grin.

  ‘You look beautiful, Mary,’ he said. ‘I must transform myself now or we will be an odd pair, don’t you think?’

  He slipped his arm around me and inspected my form more closely as he kissed my neck. I said nothing.

  That evening Captain McFarlane jumped up and held out my seat at the dinner table. The candles were burning low but even in that odd light I could still make out the cramped shabbiness of his quarters, though, I admit, they were comfortable enough.

  ‘Please,’ he gestured, and I sat down.

  Robert had found a pair of breeches and a jacket.

  ‘We are all dressed for dinner, eh?’ he grinned at himself in the glass before he took his place.

  ‘You do appear quite different,’ McFarlane commented, and then he rang the bell and they brought the fish. The boy who served it glared at me in this new incarnation but I merely glared back at him. Lord knows what our tea gardeners would make of me.

  ‘A toast,’ McFarlane raised his glass. ‘Before we sup. To the brave men we left at Foo Chow Soo. May they last until we can send comrades to strengthen their numbers! Our prayers are with them, every one.’

  We drank to that and then had a moment’s silence. We were the lucky ones, there was no doubt.

  ‘Come now,’ said the captain. ‘We must enjoy our meal and a week or so’s company.’

  And we set to.

  I was no longer accustomed to eating with my waist pinned and given the tightness of the stays I managed very little. Robert wolfed his food and engaged McFarlane in some talk of Edinburgh and the gardens at Inverleith where he had worked as a boy when first he left his father’s house. McFarlane’s father had been a fisherman at Granton.

  ‘Changed days,’ he sighed.

  ‘And you ferry opium?’ Robert enquired.

  ‘Yes. Five years in the navy, of course. And now, all this,’ he gestured around him, a twinkle in his eye. ‘Two years ago I went to London,’ he continued. ‘I visited the theatre and there on stage they portrayed an opium trader. Their notion was rather far from the truth, I’m afraid. It is as profitable as they showed it, but, well, some of the other advantages were rather poorly imagined. I am not a man of the world really. I could have a far finer ship, but this old girl sees me right.’

  ‘Ah,’ Robert’s eyes glinted, ‘what they say in Drury Lane matters little. Many things on the stage in London are not as they seem.’

  After dinner McFarlane brought out a box of cigars and he and Robert puffed away over an excellent port, while I went back to the cabin. On the way I passed one of our gardeners. Our eyes met and he caught his breath, surveying me as if I was a strange curiosity.

  I smiled. ‘You may still call me Master,’ I told him, and hearing my voice seemed to confuse him further and he rushed off to tell the others what he had encountered.

  Back in the cabin, my fingers fumbled as I undid the laces and took down my hair. I climbed into the hammock and blew out my candle but I could not sleep despite the comforting rock of the ship on the water. Tomorrow I would face them and answer all the questions. Perhaps Wang would answer them for me—he was probably facing them now. The ship creaked. I told myself it was only a week or so.

  When Robert returned he did not realise my eyes were open and he sank into the chair by the door, saying nothing. He and McFarlane had finished the bottle and now, as ever, with his mind working ahead, Robert pulled out a book and began to read. Through the ropes that secured my bed, I saw he had picked up a directory of Indian customs and practices. It was only then I think that it ceased to be words and I truly knew that he was going. My mind flitted ahead from India to London. Gilston Road, to be precise. With my thoughts wandering, I decided I could share him with Jane if I had to. The truth was my sister hardly knew her husband. It was not such a bad arrangement. She would never know of it anyway, and, besides, this way we could both get what we wanted. My conscience pricked only slightly, and I glossed over it, telling myself that she would never know, never mind. Never.

  When Robert came to bed an hour later I feigned sleep, turning over to cling to him and sighing as if deep in a dream.

  ‘I adore you, Mary,’ he whispered and kissed my cheek.

  I wound my fingers through his hair. It was very difficult to let him go, to share him with civilisation or anyone else. When he kissed me he tasted of tobacco and wine, the inside of his mouth hot. I fought the sadness that was at the fringes and told myself that I had never done anything yet that was conventional—why should the love of my life be any different? Besides, I knew the deal I was making. I would have China. China was all mine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Five days from Hong Kong and I was woken by the sound of scurrying on deck. I turned over sleepily in the hammock to find that Robert was gone. Yawning, I swung myself to the ground as I heard the hammering of feet pass the doorway, the whole crew it sounded like, running below decks screaming ‘Jan dhou!’ as they went. I had not the least idea what this meant and the only thing that came to mind was that for some reason they were set to molest our gardeners. In a panic, I pulled on my clothes and went to investigate.

  On deck in the blazing sunshine, it was clear that the cause of the shouting was not the enmity between the two groups of men on board. The gardeners were nowhere to be seen and the crew continued rushing this way and that all over the ship in an absolute panic. They were a rough lot and I could not imagine there was much they might be afraid of. McFarlane stood on the poop, shouting over his men’s raised voices in a strange version of Cantonese that I had difficulty understanding. Between these bouts he swore in English.

  ‘Bloody cowards!’ he screamed.

  ‘Captain McFarlane,’ I said, as I approached him, ‘whatever is the matter?’

  McFarlane drew himself up. His lips were pulled tightly across his face and he was agitated. He gave a cursory nod towards the line of the horizon. Far off in the distance there was a peppering of ships, but I could not make them out clearly.

  ‘Here. See for yourself, ma’am,’ he said.

  I put my hand out for the spyglass, which he stoutly handed over and then strode off, no navy officer, still shouting incomprehensible insults at his men. I drew the glass to my eye. Magnified, I could see that the ships were Chinese junks but beyond that I coul
d not tell what the fuss was about. The little fleet was coming from the direction of Hong Kong so, I presumed, had not pursued us from Foo Chow Soo. We had often passed junks on our travels before—as many Chinese ships as British traded up and down the coastline and along the main rivers, if not more. McFarlane was at the other end of the deck by now and the panic was worsening. My hand, I noticed, had started to quiver. It was most alarming to have such uncontrollable anxiety all around and not know what we were facing.

  The next minute Robert passed me. He had a look of intense concentration on his face as if he was considering a particularly thorny conundrum. The crew had mostly disappeared now, though I could still hear their shouting from below decks.

  ‘Robert?’ I caught his arm.

  He swung around. He did not realise, I suppose, that I was lately risen and had no idea what was going on.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said and removed the spyglass from my hand. ‘Good idea, Mary.’

  He drew the glass to his eye.

  ‘An hour at least,’ he said, ‘and they have clipper-built hulls, I think. Makes them damn fast,’ and then McFarlane strode back towards us.

  ‘The men have stowed themselves below deck and are tearing their clothes to shreds to look poorer. I will whip them for this. It is no help.’

  ‘Gentlemen,’ I burst out, ‘will you tell me please what is going on?’

  Robert’s eyes softened. ‘Mary. There are pirates,’ he said.

  I had heard tales of Chinese pirates, from the legend of Chen Chih-lung on. There were regular attacks on British and American trading boats, opium clippers mostly, and there had been since Chen’s days almost two hundred years before. On our voyages to Chusan and Ning-po there were so many naval vessels on the straits that we had not been easy game and the scoundrels knew they had less opportunity of a safe catch on those more crowded and well-defended waters. Pirates near Hong Kong were not a huge problem. The sea around Foo Chow Soo afforded more isolated game, however. We had been spotted and were being pursued. Chinese pirates were known for their viciousness and this, I suppose, accounted for the desperate state of our crew, who were preparing for their imminent slaughter and tearing around the ship, blindly. We were not well armed and certainly, if they boarded us, we would be done for. During the war there was a high bounty set on British ships and I had heard horrifying tales of vessels captured and the crew all beheaded, for the bounty on men was paid by the head, so why, in the eyes of the pirates, would they bother to keep the rest of the body?

  The six pirate vessels pursuing us were in the main about the same size as our own though, McFarlane said, the cut of their sails was marginally better than that of the poor Island Queen. On top of that the wind was in their favour. Such ships did not venture onto the open ocean, but scouted around the coastline and their tactics were directed to boarding their targeted vessel, rather than to open combat. They had no interest in sinking us—and their weaponry reflected that.

  ‘They will have small bombs and perhaps mines. I cannot see yet if any of the hulls are defended by spikes. If so, they may ram us. We must turn back,’ McFarlane said. ‘It will be difficult with all hands below decks but we are three. We can tack. It is not all lost—we have a head start and with the same wind conditions as they are enjoying, we might have a hope of losing them if we can keep ahead until darkness. It is our only chance.’

  Robert shook his head. ‘Back towards Foo Chow Soo? A rock and a hard place, don’t you think, McFarlane? And we have no friendly port beyond that. Not until India. We will be turning ourselves to sea, as good as a void. And Gilland is counting on us, don’t forget.’

  McFarlane considered this. ‘We will not outrun them in Chinese waters, never mind further,’ he mused. ‘We will not outrun them even as far as Foo Chow Soo, Fortune. Our only hope is the darkness, if we can keep ahead long enough and then lose them when they cannot see our course. We cannot help the others at Foo Chow Soo if we are captured.’

  Robert let this point sink in.

  ‘They have made up a few hundred yards since the first sighting. There is no measure in running, surely. Do you really think we can outrun them till darkness? It is hours away, McFarlane.’

  ‘Would you take them on then, the blaggards? Fight them just the three of us? What options do we have?’

  Robert shook his head. We were in a shabby position for a battle, there was no denying it.

  ‘We could treaty with them,’ he said. ‘I have money.’

  McFarlane laughed. ‘Like gentlemen? They will board us, slit our throats and take everything without a by-your-leave. The ship is worth more to them than a few sycee and they will have your sycee and mine, anyway. If they get close enough to treaty we are all dead.’

  Robert drew the spyglass to his eye once more. The junks were still not close enough to make out much in the way of detail beyond the shape of the hull and the cut of the sails. I felt my throat tighten. From what I had heard I could only surmise that our plan was to try to outrun the ships pursuing us and that we would probably fail. I considered that, if I had to help turn the Island Queen, it would then be my duty to go to our own men, take my gun and any knives I could find, and stay with them until these beasts came aboard. I was steeling myself for it.

  Robert had not given up so easily.

  ‘They are directed to boarding us, you say?’

  ‘Yes,’ McFarlane snapped as if Robert was an imbecile. ‘They are pirates.’

  ‘They do not have cannon or guns?’

  ‘Not many. Perhaps one cannon on deck. We cannot see yet, but I doubt it. As for guns, they will have what they have captured before, but probably only a few, if any, and little shot. They will, however, have bombs, though they will have to get close enough to throw them by hand. Fortune, you are wasting time talking, we must turn and get off.’

  Robert ignored him. ‘So they would not take on a naval vessel? The white devils. They would turn tail at that.’

  ‘Certainly. Or at least be put on the back foot. Do you think you can magic HMS Fortitude and all her guns from thin air? There is no one here but us.’

  Robert grinned. ‘Not HMS Fortitude. But HMS Island Queen we can manage. We cannot make out more than an outline now. Neither can they. They do not know who we are. We have one cannon at the helm, but it’s better than nothing and between us we have some guns. Five, I think.’

  McFarlane’s face froze for a second.

  ‘Three of us,’ he said slowly.

  ‘We have nine men below decks quite beside the crew.’

  ‘Chinese.’

  ‘Oh, that is all in the appearance,’ Robert waved his hand. We had both proved that point. ‘We will wager they will not get close enough to inspect the cut of our jib or the slanting whites of our eyes too closely. How many British clothes do you have, McFarlane? Are you game for it?’

  McFarlane thought for a moment, surveyed the advancing junks.

  Then he nodded.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Truth is they will butcher us anyway.’

  It was, perhaps, not quite the spirit we might have hoped for. Robert squeezed my hand as we sprang into action.

  ‘We’ll fight them,’ he marshalled me. ‘Scare them,’ he promised. ‘It’s all in the show, Mary.’

  We fell to the job and, quickly, from the cabins, McFarlane and I mustered six full English outfits between us, and the guns. Robert went below decks and sent up Wang and Sing Hoo first, who gingerly picked jackets and breeches from the pile we had laid on deck, and examined them. ‘Either breeches with a loose shirt or a jacket done up over your own clothes,’ Robert directed. Sing Hoo smiled.

  ‘Quickly, Sing Hoo!’

  ‘I am to be gweiloh?’ he said with delight, and needed no further instruction, eagerly pulling on the breeches, fumbling over the buttons. It was not military attire, but it was Western and, I suppose, if the pirates got close enough to see the details too clearly we were probably done for anyway.

  Wang chose a gr
eatcoat that belonged to McFarlane. I inspected him and Sing Hoo, topping off Wang’s outfit with a hat and binding Sing Hoo’s head with a piece of linen cloth, as I had seen English sailors do. It hid his Chinese baldness and his queue admirably. The two men eyed each other and then burst into hysterical laughter. Then, berated by Robert for wasting time, Wang fetched the tea gardeners on deck and between us we arrayed them as best we could. From a distance they could have been from Southampton as much as Foo Chow Soo by the time we’d done.

  Up at the helm, Robert and McFarlane loaded the guns. The cannon it transpired had come from Chusan and there were only a dozen balls for it. With the men attired, we sent Sing Hoo to fetch anything sharp or jagged that he could muster from below decks. We could fire kitchen knives if we had to, the ship’s supply of nails for repairs and even, we supposed, the crockery would injure if pitched at a high enough velocity.

  ‘They will aim here first,’ McFarlane instructed us, pointing out the key points of the pirates’ tactics. ‘If they can knock out the helm we are disabled. The shot will set the deck ablaze whether it hits home or not. It will be close quarters.’

  ‘Right,’ said Robert and set our men to drawing buckets of seawater ready for this contingency.

  ‘Have you ever been in a battle?’ McFarlane asked Robert.

  ‘No,’ Robert admitted.

  ‘Me neither,’ I said, which made the three of us giggle.

  ‘So,’ McFarlane confirmed, ‘they will fire. I hope it does not shock you too much. With me, I find, it makes me angry. It’s the best you can hope for. Ma’am, I cannot help but think that perhaps you should be below deck. You are a very brave woman to stay.’

  I did not know about that. I cast my eye back over the tea gardeners, who a few weeks before had never seen the sea, never mind heard of pirates. I had known I was heading into dangerous situations when I took my place at Robert’s side. They had simply thought they were earning some extra money for their skills on another plantation.