Mandarin

by Elegant, Robert;

  Saul rose from his chair and began to pace the small office. Walking always helped him think, and he was now thinking commercially.

  The Heavenly Kingdom of Great Peace controlled the produce of the Yangtze Basin, which was the greatest potential market in the world. A journey of exploration into the Taiping realm would be not only an intellectual challenge but a practical necessity for the future of the firm of Haleevie and Lee. He had to know whether the Taipings actually possessed the potential to destroy the Manchus and bring all China under their rule. If he did not understand their heterodox movement, he could not judge which way China was moving. If his plans for the future were not based on reliable information, his small firm could go under.

  Yet he could not leave the Foreign Settlement for the necessary length of time, since his affairs required his presence. Besides, he could not take his eye off his troublesome daughter. Why, after all, was he determined to expand the business, except to provide for Fronah and her future husband?

  Saul halted his pacing to tap the ashes off his cheroot into a polychrome saucer. He reasoned more clearly when he was moving about, just as his studious forefathers had exercised their undervalued bodies while disputing the subtleties of the law. After finishing his second cheroot, he felt revulsion at the fug that filled the office and leaned out the window that overlooked the front garden.

  The tableau he saw might have appeared idyllic to another eye. The white figure of the American naval officer was bent attentively toward Fronah, who was demure in a tight-waisted dress of pink cotton, her pleated skirt a many-petaled flower on the stone bench.

  Saul was only briefly charmed by that scene, which had not altered for more than an hour as the young man and the girl chatted animatedly. His paternal fear was aroused. Instead of feeling pleasure because an absorbing conversation had broken Fronah’s brooding, he was alarmed by the intimacy of the two youthful figures. Fronah must not become involved with another Gentile. The more diverting Gabriel Hyde’s dark handsomeness and easy good humor were to her now, the worse it could be for her later.

  The decision Saul had been pondering was fixed by his fear. Forgetting his dignity, he leaned out the window and called to the American. Gabriel Hyde waved and, after saying an excessively fond farewell to Fronah, sauntered around the house toward the entrance to the godown.

  “I’ve been thinking about the idea I mentioned the other day,” Saul began without the normal pleasantries after Hyde had accepted a cheroot. “How would you like to visit the Heavenly Capital?”

  “Well, it’s a new idea all right,” the American drawled. “It certainly has the charm of novelty.”

  “No, Gabriel, I’m very serious. Please hear me out.”

  “Pardon me, Mr. Haleevie. I thought you were joking. It sounds crazy, but I’m all ears.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Saul began slowly. “A clever young fellow like you is just what I need. And, of course, I’ll make it worth your while. This is what I have in my mind.”

  Disdaining subterfuge, the merchant reviewed his recent chain of reasoning for the American. A long stay in the Heavenly Kingdom would be necessary to evaluate the Taiping’s political, military, and commercial potential. In addition to expenses, Gabriel Hyde would receive a commission of ten percent on all transactions his efforts generated, as well as a fee of £200, say US$1,000, for his report. The Taipings, Saul believed, would welcome the American. They wished to attract foreign officers into their service, and they were also avid for trade.

  “That’s fine, Mr. Haleevie, just dandy,” Gabriel replied. “But you seem to have overlooked two points. I don’t wear this uniform just for show. Remember, I’m an officer in the Imperial Water Force. Somehow it strikes me that my commodore wouldn’t be wild about my consorting with the enemy. It’s not done, you know.”

  “Ah, Gabriel, it is. The Imps won’t turn down the chance to learn about the Taiping Water Force, not to speak of general military strength. Also, I can drop a word or two—a few taels here and there. And you’re not tongue-tied yourself.”

  “You want me to spy? I don’t like that.”

  “Not a spy, Gabriel. Not a spy if both sides know exactly who you are. Rather a diplomatic observer.”

  “Well, it would make a change. Going up and down the Yangtze like a ferry-boat captain gets boring. Anyway, I’m damned curious to see how the Taipings operate. Let me think about it.”

  “And your second point, Gabriel?”

  “You know, my pidgin Chinese is good enough to give orders on the Mencius. I’m working on the language, mind you. But my Chinese won’t take me very far in Taipingland.”

  “I’m not planning to send you deaf and dumb to the Heavenly Capital. David will go with you. Aaron might be better, I admit. He’s more sensible. But he has his examination in a few months. And for … ah … certain reasons it might be a good idea for David to … ah … not be seen in Shanghai for a while. You and he get on well, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s a good boy, lively and quick, too. I’d like to take David.”

  “Then it’s settled?” Saul offered his hand to seal the agreement. “We’re agreed? When can you leave?”

  “Not quite settled, sir. I need to mull it over, but I am due leave. Say the day after tomorrow.”

  “Unless I hear otherwise by tonight, I’ll count on it, then. Now, if you’ll allow me, I want to make an arrangement or two.”

  From the window, Saul watched the officer’s white back dwindle along the gravel path through the circles of roses. Though Fronah had vanished into the house, Gabriel Hyde paused to look at the stone bench.

  The merchant congratulated himself. He would rather go himself, but he could not. However, Gabriel and David would together do almost as well as himself. Equally important, the American would be away from Shanghai for a long time. With Hyde out of the way, he could pursue his plans unhampered by Fronah’s volatile emotions. His other scheme needed a month or so to mature.

  CHAPTER 30

  September 6, 1856

  SHANGHAI

  Saul Haleevie felt a twinge of anxiety for his son David and Gabriel Hyde. He had not heard from them since the Low Dah, his favorite smuggling captain, returned to report their warm welcome in the Heavenly Capital of the Great Kingdom of Heavenly Peace. However, foreigners constantly traveled to the insurgent realm, and there was no reason why he should have received news so soon after their stealthy departure at twilight on August 3, 1856.

  He chuckled, recalling that the Low Dah had wanted to sail at noon to show off his new junk, which was ten feet longer and two knots faster than the vessel that lay at the bottom of the Yangtze. But the smuggler and his sometime captor could hardly sweep down the Hwangpoo to the Long River in the glare of the midday sun with banners flying.

  Saul’s lean features wrinkled in a scowl when he thought of his apprentice, Sammy Moses. Though a nonentity, the lad had been honorable when he declared forthrightly that he proposed to seek the hand of Miriam and Moses Elias’s daughter Rebecca. Of course, Fronah wanted nothing to do with the apprentice. Still, it rankled when his daughter was spurned by a greasy mediocrity.

  Sammy was only trimming his sails to the prevailing wind in the Jewish community. The exclusive Moseses, Weinsteins, and Benjamins had been horrified by Fronah’s friendship with young Iain Matthews. How could a chaste Jewish girl be seen with a Gentile who was a notorious rake? Their daughter was contaminated, and no respectable Jewish boy would pay her court.

  Besides, Fronah’s fundamental discontent would endure and corrode her life unless he acted firmly. Sarah sometimes complained that he took too much upon his shoulders—and too much into his hands. He did not enjoy manipulating others, but Fronah was his responsibility.

  Saul’s mind was made up. Recalling Sammy Moses’s effrontery had erased his reservations. He closed the office door behind him resolutely and went in search of his wife.

  He found Sarah in the conservatory, her dark eyebrows drawn t
ogether in concentration. On the round marble table stood a shallow brass bowl from Seoul, which tinkled to summon the servants when struck with a small wooden mallet. A single white rose floated in the clear water, its purity reflected in the gleaming bottom. Sprays of red roses soared around a sprig of yellow azalea blossoms in a bell-mouthed famille noir vase of the Yung Cheng reign.

  Lifting her eyes from the celadon vase in her hands, Sarah smiled defensively and offered her husband her lips. Saul kissed her and smiled at the casual caress that expiated her casual guilt. She knew he did not like her to cut twigs from the azaleas or to put flowers in the brass bowl. She also knew that the pale-green vase with the narrow neck should be left untouched on the display shelf. Dating from the Koryu period in Korea, some six hundred years ago, it was virtually unique in Shanghai.

  “I was just wondering which flowers I could bear to sacrifice, the slipper orchids or the cattleya,” she said defensively. “Your vase needs one perfect spray.”

  “Then don’t make any sacrifices,” he suggested. “Not your orchids or my vase.”

  “Saul, is something wrong?” She put the vase down. “Why did you leave the office in the middle of the morning?”

  “No, dear, nothing’s wrong. Quite the reverse. I’ve decided you’re right—absolutely right.”

  “I’m always right, Saul. Except …”

  “… except rarely, when you’re wrong,” he completed their familiar joke. “But this time you’re really right. I can’t bear it any longer. Fronah must be married—and soon. Otherwise, with this Gentile and that Gentile, who knows? At least I got Gabriel Hyde out of the way.”

  “And not too soon. Of course she must be married as soon as possible.”

  “And you still feel this … this Henriques?”

  “Yes, Saul, I do. I know you’ve got reservations, but only angels are perfect. She is attracted, and he’s very acceptable. You know I worried she’d never find a Jewish man she could like. And I’m sure he’ll make a good husband.”

  “All right, then. Why don’t you have a word with Fronah?”

  “I’m to have a word with Fronah? You know she thinks I’m an old frump. What did she call me the other day? Yes, a back number! You have a word with her.”

  “We’ll compromise, then—we’ll both have a word with her at lunch.”

  After her conversation in the garden with Gabriel Hyde, Fronah had returned to her neglected Chinese studies. Saul was pleased that she was again questioning him about commerce and Chinese politics, though another father might have felt such interest unseemly for a girl. However, he deplored her new interest in military—particularly naval—affairs because of its obvious inspiration.

  It was, Sarah said, obviously past time for her to be betrothed. She would forget both her childish infatuations and her unrealistic ambitions once she became a wife and, if God pleased, a mother.

  Saul had raised the matter when the luncheon dishes were cleared away and they sat over glasses of lemon tea at the mahogany table. Thereafter, he had been silent while his women discussed what was ultimately women’s business. Chastened by her experience with Iain Matthews and grateful for her parents’ tolerance, Fronah was receptive, so acquiescent that her mother glowed with satisfaction. Her father was unaccountably disturbed by her apparent lack of spirit.

  “Only a betrothal, you understand, Fronah,” he interposed. “Of course, a betrothal usually means a wedding. But if you felt unhappy, it would only be a betrothal.”

  “That won’t happen, Papa, I promise you. I’ve been thinking hard since we talked. Maybe I don’t love Mr. Henriques. I can’t know for sure. But I do like him very much and I do admire him. I really do.”

  “A betrothal is a betrothal, Saul,” Sarah chided. “She mustn’t start with the idea of getting out. The child says she’s sure. Stop putting doubts into her head.”

  “And you’ll go with him wherever he goes, like Ruth with Naomi. You understand, Fronah, don’t you? This isn’t playing. It’s the rest of your life.”

  “Certainly, Papa.” Fronah felt it would be impolitic to mention her dream of a grand house on Belgrave Square. “I’m not a child any more, I promise you.”

  “Of course, your father will offer Mr. Henriques a partnership. Some day the business and property will all be yours and his. So there’s no need to think of leaving Shanghai. I know how you’d hate to leave.”

  “Of course, Mama,” Fronah agreed. “Who would ever want to leave Shanghai?”

  Actually, Fronah was torn between her devotion to China and her profound desire to see England. The Gentile milieu of the treaty port no longer glittered as it had when it first offered her a tentative welcome. Her thrice weekly lessons with Margaret MacGregor had not only taught her to dress with flair and to speak with proper British understatement. The romantic Scotswoman had inflamed her imagination with second-hand tales of the glamour of London society. Self-exiled in Shanghai by her faith, Margaret muddled the reality of industrial Britain with the realm of chivalry depicted in the Waverly Novels of Sir Walter Scott, which she loved reading with her pupil.

  Nonetheless, the Scotswoman’s judgment of people was shrewd—and she was justly proud of the transformation she had wrought in the Jewish girl, like Pygmalion creating Galatea. She had, she felt, given the breath of life to a charming and intelligent young woman. She was only half aware that she had also infused Fronah with aspirations that were virtually impossible of realization.

  She could, moreover, not have imagined that it was possible for anyone to turn Fronah against Shanghai. The girl was obviously fascinated by China and, further, often declared that she owed a debt to that country—a debt that only faithful service to its people could repay.

  Saul Haleevie was unaccountably disturbed by the speed with which his plans unfolded when Lionel Henriques kept his appointment that afternoon. After expressing delighted surprise that a man of Saul Haleevie’s standing should honor him by suggesting marriage with his only daughter, Lionel Henriques insisted upon revealing his financial position “as one man of business to another.” Embarrassed at probing the affairs of a gentleman who was obviously as secure financially as he was socially, Saul protested ritually that the revelations were unnecessary. So great was Lionel Henriques’s charm and so transparent his candor that the canny merchant almost believed his own protestations.

  “So, you see, Saul, I’ll have £1,500 a year when my Aunt Selma goes. Poor dear, she’s eighty-two and won’t be with us long, I fear. My mother is, thank God, hale, though she’s almost seventy-five. Unless God ordains otherwise, she’ll light my days for years to come. But I would be less than candid if I did not tell you that she enjoys an income of £5,000 from my late father and another £2,500 from her father, all to come to me as the eldest on her passing. Then there’s my connection with Samuelsons. I can assure you Fronah will never know want.”

  “I have never doubted that, Lionel.” Saul was understandably gratified and unaccountably piqued. “Nor am I a pauper. I can’t give precise figures like you, but Fronah will have three-quarters of everything I own. I must provide for Aaron and David, you know. Of course, if you came into partnership, there’d be a bigger share for Fronah and you.”

  “Are you offering me a partnership, Saul?” The prospect allayed Lionel Henriques’s indignation at his future father-in-law’s proposing to give a quarter of his substance to two Chinamen. “I’m honored that you consider me worthy of a partnership.”

  “What else, Lionel? After you’re married, a good working relationship. Then, after a year or so, a partnership.”

  It would do him very well, Lionel Henriques concluded. Far better, actually, than he’d dared hope. The old boy, who was only nine years older than himself, was a great money spinner, a shrewd trader in the old mold his own family seemed to have mislaid. Since Haleevies would undoubtedly need a representative in London some day, he could bide his time happily until that increasingly powerful firm sponsored his return.

&nb
sp; The girl herself was by no means unattractive, still young and pliable. She was, of course, somewhat willful, but there was little harm in her high spirits. It would be a pleasure to curb her and a joy to polish her rough edges. He could hardly have done better, Lionel Henriques concluded.

  “When do you plan the betrothal party, Saul?” he asked.

  “You’ll be leaving for Hong Kong in a week or so.” Saul’s native prudence reasserted itself. “Let’s say as soon as you return.”

  “That’ll suit right down to the ground, Saul. Now, about my mission to the money men of Hong Kong …”

  Saul was startled by the Englishman’s abrupt transition to business. Lionel Henriques had not even suggested that he talk to Fronah. However, his practical approach demonstrated that he would make a reliable husband. He was no impulsive youth but a mature man of substance and good sense. Nonetheless, Saul was relieved by his prospective son-in-law’s words when they had agreed on their tactics in Hong Kong.

  “Now, Saul, may I pay my court to Miss Fronah?” Lionel Henriques asked. “Business is all very well in its place, but I’m longing to see her.”

  CHAPTER 31

  September 16, 1856

  SHANGHAI

  It was absolutely true, Fronah realized, the boast ostensibly made in jest. Because females were so few in the Foreign Settlement, a lady could enjoy a dance, a musical soirée, or a dinner party six nights of the week if she pleased. She did not even have to be attractive as long as her manners and dress were acceptable. In the ten days since Lionel Henriques asked permission to pay his court they had attended seven such gatherings. All were delightful, and all, it seemed, revolved around her. Even the small Jewish community, which had virtually snubbed her two weeks earlier, was giving a dinner the following Sunday.