It was Robert’s first challenge in Canton. He was sure there would be others. He changed what Parkes wanted him to say into Chinese so the viceroy would not feel insulted.
He planned to bribe the man but not make it look like a bribe. The minute he saw the viceroy, he guessed his weakness. The man was fat. There weren’t many fat Chinese. Knowing how much the Chinese loved food, Robert felt confident of a solution. The Chinese accepted food as they accepted sex. This man looked like he enjoyed food more than the average Chinese did.
First, Robert introduced himself and nodded. Then he started a conversation. “I have become addicted to eating crabs,” he said. “How do you feel about crabs?”
Parkes’s eyebrows bounced and a look of consternation flooded the commissioner’s face. Robert was glad that Parkes kept his mouth shut. Otherwise, his scheme might have fallen apart.
“I’m a slave to crabs,” the viceroy said.
“Why?” Robert knew there was a shortage of crabs in Canton. He also knew they could be found in Hong Kong or Macao and shipped overnight on a British gunboat.
“I’m addicted to the fragrance, the flavor and the color.”
“What about bamboo shoots?” he asked. “I understand the rebels have made it difficult to get fresh bamboo-shoots into the city and local supplies are running low.”
The viceroy’s expression saddened in a dramatic fashion. Robert knew the man was guessing what was going on and was playing his part. “I haven’t had young bamboo shoots for weeks.”
Robert was elated. He was sure that the viceroy was going to cooperate. He was also sure the viceroy was getting the food he wanted and was paying a premium for it. Food on the black market was expensive.
“I have a solution. I’m sure that you can eat as well as the emperor in Peking and probably better.” The French were in the city, and he’d heard an officer in the British barracks talking about one of the French colonels who was a fantastic cook.
The viceroy looked curious. Robert had caught his interest and free food was going to be the bribe.
“Commissioner Parkes wants you to stay in Canton until your replacement arrives. He is willing to provide the freshest crabs, the tenderest bamboo shoots and any other foods that are available you have missed because of the rebels and the difficulties with trade.”
Parkes’s eyebrows lifted in surprise and stayed that way. Robert guessed he was struggling to control himself from speaking or possibly burst out laughing. Either action would kill the negotiation and embarrass the viceroy. He was nervous that Parkes was going to mess everything up. Parkes started to open his mouth.
Robert switched to English. “I don’t wish to sound rude but drastic circumstances call for drastic words. Keep it shut, commissioner, or this mess you wanted to avoid will materialize.” Parkes’s face turned scarlet and his cheeks puffed up.
Robert turned to the viceroy. “Commissioner Parkes says he knows a famous French cook who can create miracles and cause you to groan in pleasure after every meal. He wants to do this because if you leave, trade will become disrupted. The rebels will take advantage of your absence and cause trouble.
“Many fathers in Canton will go without food. Their sons will die of starvation. Grandfathers will die of thirst. Many may lose their heads and never enjoy the taste of crabs or the sensation that young bamboo shoots give to your teeth while you are chewing them.” He paused to let the words sink in hoping the viceroy would recognize the hidden meanings.
“Of course,” Robert said, “it is your decision. If you have to leave because the emperor ordered it, we understand.” This time Robert did not glance to see how Parkes was reacting. He could imagine the man swelling up like a pidgin in distress.
Deciding to add icing to the cake, he said, “I know this Frenchman has stood beside the greatest Chinese cook in Hong Kong and taken lessons from him.” It was a lie. “He knows the secrets from the Emperor’s kitchen in the Forbidden City. In other words, if you leave before your replacement arrives, you will eat poorly all the way to Peking. There will be no food to be had on the journey. You will have to eat rice and grass the entire trip.” Robert paused to create some drama and lifted his eyebrows as if he were asking an unspoken question.
“Oh the other hand,” he said, “if you stay, we will make sure you have a supply of your favorite foods to go with you when you leave on your safe journey north.”
A distressed look filled the viceroy’s face. Robert knew he was struggling. He held his breath waiting for the reply. The silence lasted too long.
“You are worried the emperor may be angry when you do not arrive on time,” Robert said, afraid he was going to fail. If he didn’t succeed, he could find himself out of a job or demoted.
“You may even be worried that the rebels may strike and harm you or your family. But there is no reason to worry. Commissioner Parkes has agreed to take full responsibility for your tardiness. I will draft a letter the commissioner will sign that absolves you of all blame. It will be written in Mandarin so there will be no problems interpreting it. If you stay, you will eat better than the emperor will.
“It would help convince the emperor, if you made a formal request that Commissioner Parkes leave his military police here to watch over your house. That way, if the emperor asks, you could say you had no choice, because you weren’t allowed to leave. We can help stage the entire affair so no one will know you are eating your way to heaven.”
They returned to the headquarters. Robert was invited to dinner along with two assistants, both taller than he was. During dinner, Parkes talked the most.
“I liked what you did at the viceroy’s, Hart,” Parkes said. “You accomplished a near miracle. If anyone else had been with me, it would have probably instigated another crisis. You’re as good as they say, a real mind reader.” He stopped and a stern look came into his face. He sat straight and cleared his throat as if ready to pass sentence on a criminal.
“I apologize for my rudeness, commissioner,” Robert said, anticipating what might be coming.
Parkes shook his head. He smiled. “You are a mind reader, young man. From now on, I expect you to be ready at a moment’s notice to accompany me anytime I need another miracle. By the way, who is this French cook you were talking about?”
“I have no idea.”
One of the other men at the table choked on his food. His face flushed dark. He took a glass of wine and drank half.
“Be careful, Lockwood,” Parkes said. “I don’t want you to die on me.”
Lockwood waved a hand and managed to clear his throat and breathe. He drank more wine and turned his head aside to cough.
“I heard that one of the French colonels loves to cook,” Robert said. “I took a chance. I’m sure you can discover who the man is and arrange for him to show off his skills. It will be easy to have crabs and the best-quality bamboo shoots shipped from Hong Kong or Macao and anything else the Frenchman requests. Besides, since the viceroy agreed, he will not want to lose face. Even if the food doesn’t measure up, he will act as if it does. He will say anything to save face. No one on his staff will disagree because of piety and the Five Great Relationships.”
“You are amazing, Hart. Won’t it ruin your reputation among the Chinese if the food is bad?”
“Not really. The viceroy will keep his mouth shut. He will not want anyone to discover that I fooled him. If I helped him save face, he will never forget. He will even owe me a debt.”
“Explain these confusing Confucian relationships to me.”
“The Chinese have lived with them for twenty-five-hundred years, sir. That’s when Confucius spent his life preaching the moral code that is China’s bedrock.” Robert went into detail.
When he finished, Parkes looked around the table at the others. “I’ve never heard anything like it. Hart, you are amazing.”
Robert stared at his food, sipped wine and avoided the eyes studying him. He remembered the times Ayaou or Shao-mei or Guan-jiah had lectu
red him on why he had to behave in certain ways toward the Chinese. He felt a twisting pain in his gut. He missed Ayaou. He missed his servant, and he still felt grief at Shao-mei’s loss.
He managed to keep his expression neutral. No one was going to discover what he was thinking. He also hated it when others felt sorry for him. Besides, he didn’t want anyone to know about his life with Ayaou. They would not understand.
Parkes complements were appreciated, but Robert didn’t let the praise go to his head. “This Frenchman might be a horrible cook,” he said. “That doesn’t matter. My goal was to allow the viceroy to say yes instead of being forced into doing what you wanted. He knew what would happen if he didn’t agree. He saved face by accepting the offer. To his staff, it will look like he accepted a culinary bribe. Even if the food is bad, he will tell everyone he went to heaven eating this Frenchman’s cooking. Of course, it would help if this French colonel is a good cook.”
After the meal, Parkes offered everyone a cigar. Robert did not feel like smoking. The other two men at the table also declined.
Parkes, on the other hand, lighted the cigar and started to fill the room with thick smoke. He puffed with the same energy he seemed to apply to every task. Parkes appeared to have enough energy for several, and up until meeting Parkes, Robert considered himself a hard worker. Now, he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept since leaving Hong Kong the previous morning.
Parkes puffed away while continuing to talk. Without warning, he stopped talking in the middle of a sentence. The muscles in his face relaxed. His eyes were still open but looked vacant. The cigar fell from his lips.
One of the others took the cigar and snuffed the ember before placing it in an empty bowl. Parkes’s head slumped forward until his chin rested on his chest. He had fallen asleep.
“It’s okay to go, Hart,” Lockwood said. “He won’t expect you to stay. He will be awake and working at midnight. We can be sure of that. However, he doesn’t expect any of us to keep the same hours.”
Robert reached his room at midnight to discover a breeze blowing into the room because of the missing pane of glass. The room felt like a locker filled with blocks of ice.
He would have to get that window fixed. He had one wool blanket. It didn’t take long to learn one blanket was not enough. He would have piled his clothing on top of the blanket but the rest of his clothing might not arrive for days. He didn’t bother to undress when he covered himself with the blanket. His nose and toes felt frozen. He listened to the sentries and struggled to get warm by curling into a ball.
A sentry yelled, “Who goes there?”
“A friend,” came the reply
“Advance, friend, and give the parole,” the sentry said.
“England,” came the reply.
“Pass, friend, and all’s well.”
Since Robert couldn’t sleep, he thought about Ayaou. Sleeping without her didn’t feel right. He started to shiver. He worried that he might freeze and never see her again.
That night a British sailor was murdered and his body found on the beach the next morning. Everyone was talking about it when Robert arrived at the officers’ mess for breakfast.
Parkes was a hurricane of activity. He seemed to have a second sense for trouble. They were always rushing from one place to another. It was impossible for Robert to find time to search for a house.
Parkes praised him every time he soothed ruffled Chinese sensibilities. That didn’t help Robert’s frustration. He wanted to find a house and send for Ayaou and Guan-jiah. He wanted his adopted family back. He wanted to be warm again. He did manage to find two more blankets although they didn’t help much.
When he brought up the subject about a house, Parkes said, “No, you will be safer with the British officers. I’ve had other hot-blooded, young men want to live in the city where they are free to keep the company of local women, but with the danger from the rebels and the imperials, I won’t hear of it.”
How could he tell Parkes that he wanted to send for his Chinese concubine? After all, Parkes wasn’t impressed with the Chinese people and their culture. He had seen Parkes act arrogant and obnoxious in front of the Chinese. Parkes and others like him created new challenges to solve on a daily basis from their transparent attitudes and blunt behavior.
They were riding to a meeting with another Chinese official when they saw several lovely Chinese women. Because one looked like Ayaou, Robert stared.
Parkes made a thumb down gesture. “I saw you admiring that lady,” he said. “There is nothing to see. Their bodies are childlike and their breasts small. How could an Englishman want such a woman in his bed? It would be like having intercourse with a child.”
He worried about what Parkes might think if he knew those characteristics were precisely what excited him. He couldn’t stand large breasts, big bottoms and thick thighs. Ayaou was exactly what he wanted.
His main job, besides helping Parkes keep a delicate balance in the city and the surrounding countryside, was to work as interpreter for the Anglo-French commission. The commission’s job was to assist the Chinese governor in maintaining order and to take notice of legal cases where foreigners were concerned. The commission consisted of Colonel Thomas Holloway, Captain F. Martineau des Chavez, and Parkes.
On Tuesday, he left the protection of Canton with Parkes and six armed men. As they rode through one of the city gates into the countryside, Parkes said, “This is the northeast gate where Captain Bate was killed reconnoitering the walls after the capture of Lin’s Fort. A bloody mess.”
Bate had died when a combined allied military force of British and French soldiers took the city from the Imperial Chinese army. Hostilities had not ceased. The rebels and elements of the imperial army continued to resist and make life difficult. Canton was a dangerous place. It was worse outside the city’s walls.
He wrote a letter to Ayaou and sent money. In the note, he told her to have Guan-jiah pack and purchase passage for Canton. He could not wait to be reunited. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.
A few days later, Robert questioned why he’d done that. He’d been selfish. He knew the answer—there was a deep, dull ache inside that wouldn’t go away. Only Ayaou could dispel that ache.
He would have Ayaou and Guan-jiah find a house close to his military quarters. He’d slip out in the night and spend a few hours with her before returning to the cold, unfriendly bed at the commission. The broken window had not been fixed.
One Friday afternoon, Robert left the city with Captain Pym, the commander of a hundred-man police force armed with swords and revolvers. They rode to a house outside the city walls where spies said rebels were hiding concealed weapons.
When the hundred-man column arrived, there were no people in the street. It was almost as if they had been expected. Robert felt exposed. Had they ridden into a trap? He hoped he would survive to spend another night with Ayaou.
“I don’t like this,” Pym said. He turned the horses over to a few men and put his back against a wall to study the rooftops. Everyone looked nervous. That didn’t help how Robert felt. Pym ordered some men to climb on the roofs to keep watch. He directed most of his force to fan out and set up a perimeter. They quickly searched and secured the empty houses on both sides of the street.
“We’re spread too thin,” Robert said.
“I agree,” Pym replied. “We should have come with twice as many men. I don’t like this.”
Robert felt as if hidden eyes were watching but every time he looked, nobody was there. He hoped the others would not see his nervousness.
The house they’d come to inspect was locked. After Pym’s men broke in, they searched and found no weapons. They shoved furniture aside, broke table legs with their roughness and pounded on tiles, cracking some, looking for hollow spaces below the floor.
Once the search was finished, Robert followed Pym outside.
The captain spread his legs wide and put his hands on his hips. He stared at the rooftops where his men were
on guard. “It makes my back crawl,” he said. “If the cowards are going to attack, I wished they’d get it over with. I hate this waiting.”
Robert knew exactly how he felt. It was a relief to return to the city. Later, they discovered the street had been abandoned for weeks.
Chapter 31
On the last day in May, three armed British soldiers escorted a Chinese boy into the commission. The soldiers did not look friendly, and the boy’s eyes were filled with fear.
“He was asking to see you, Mr. Hart,” one of the soldiers said. “We were going to knock him upside the head if he didn’t leave, but he insisted.”
“That’s okay. You may go.”
The soldiers didn’t move.
Robert knelt and spoke in Cantonese. “Did someone send a message?” The boy nodded. It was obvious he was too scared to talk.
The guards glared at the boy. Robert said, “This boy weighs less than forty pounds. Do you insult me by insinuating I cannot defend myself against a child? Go.”
They left.
Parkes wasn’t around, and Robert knew no one in the room spoke the language. “What is the message?” he asked. His heart was pounding and he held his breath. The boy handed him a folded note. It was from Ayaou. Robert’s hand trembled. She was in Canton. It took an effort to keep his voice calm and his features composed. His legs and feet wanted to run—to find her. Instead, he forced himself to breathe.
He took a yuan out of his pocket and held it for the boy to see. A common Chinese laborer had to work a sixteen-hour day to earn two or three yuan. The boy couldn’t take his eyes off the coin. He reached for the money.
“Not so fast,” Robert said, and held the money out of reach. “Show me where the boat is first.”
The boy guided him to the river and pointed at a junk anchored a hundred yards from shore. Robert put the coin in the boy’s palm, and the child stared at it as if it were a precious jewel. Then he popped it in his mouth. With the coin safely hidden, he looked to see if anyone had noticed.
My Splendid Concubine Page 39