The assailant laughed. “You’re a marked man, governor,” he said in a dry cockney accent, which marked him as a man of the docks from Plymouth or London. He coughed and blood bubbled from his mouth. “You made the wrong man angry.”
Was Patridge behind this? That made sense. After all, Robert had spurned the captain’s offer, and Patridge had many sailors working for him in the opium trade.
“I never expected it to turn out this way,” the man said. “I thought I would finish the job as I’ve done before and collect the rest of my pay and be done with it.” He coughed and blood bubbled from his mouth.
Robert searched the man’s pockets. The assailant tried to fend him off but was too weak. He found a hundred-pound Bank of England note. “Is this what Patridge paid you?” he said. “I’d think I was worth more than that.”
“Who is Patridge?” the man asked. Then he coughed and sprayed blood on Robert’s jacket. “There would have been more when I finished the job,” the assassin said.
When he discovered the other pockets were empty, Robert slapped the man’s face. “Tell me who paid you to do this? Was it the same man who was after me in Ningpo? Was it General Ward? Was it Hollister?
“Don’t know them,” the man said, as he wheezed and spit up more blood.
Robert looked around. None of the local Chinese had come out of the surrounding houses at the sound of the shots. That was not unusual. If a small child were being swept away by a river and drowning, most Chinese would continue about their business as if no one was screaming for help a few yards away. The child would surely die.
He focused his attention back on the assassin to discover the man’s mouth hung open and his eyes looked empty. Robert listened for a heartbeat and found none. The man was dead.
His hands started to shake, and he searched the clothes again for any evidence that might tell him who had sent the man to kill him. When he found nothing, he left the body and hurried home feeling ill as if he were going to throw up.
After that day, he never traveled the streets without guards. Next time there was an attempt on his life he might not be so fortunate. It bothered him that he didn’t know who his enemy was and might be anyone even the Taipings.
His only clue was the one hundred-pound note and the fact that the man was British. It didn’t make sense that a Chinese would pay a foreigner to kill him. If the Chinese had sent an assassin, Robert would have suffered a horrible and painful death from poisoning. He was sure of that.
Chapter 41
One morning in March 1861, Robert was at work when a dispatch arrived. After opening it, he gasped, and said, “Good Lord!”
Gerard, one of the clerks, a Frenchman at a nearby desk, said, “What is it, Monsieur Hart? You look as if you saw a ghost.”
Robert’s hand trembled and the paper fluttered.
“Is it about your family in Ireland?” Gerard asked, staring at the shaking hand.
“No. Horatio Lay was walking down a major Shanghai street without guards when a riot broke out around him and an unidentified assailant attacked him with a knife. Horatio was stabbed in the back and several times in his abdomen.”
“Are you talking about the inspector general in Shanghai?” Gerard asked, as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Yes.” Robert held out the dispatch. “Read for yourself.”
“It says Monsieur Lay is fortunate to have survived,” the clerk said, and his face turned pale. “Two Germans armed with pistols saw Monsieur Lay go down, and they fired shots to scare off the Chinese mob. Then they carried him to the nearest consulate where he was provided with immediate medical care.”
Gerard handed the dispatch back. “Monsieur Hart, this is a most horrible tragedy. You may be called to Shanghai to manage Customs until the inspector general recovers. Pardon me for being outspoken, but Monsieur Lay doesn’t have your diplomatic skills. He is too abrupt with the Chinese and does not show them the proper respect and courtesy. I don’t like speaking ill of someone who just came so close to death, but it is true.”
“I appreciate your words.” He was pleased at the loyalty Gerard demonstrated, but he was careful not to smile thinking it would be inappropriate to agree even though he did. “We must get back to work.”
Gerard returned to his desk. Robert reread the words at the end of the dispatch. ‘He was fortunate to still be alive’. What had happened to Horatio could happen to any foreigner. He looked from the dispatch to Gerard. The Frenchman was going over numbers in a ledger. He made the right decision hiring Gerard. More than a dozen had applied for the position, but Gerard, besides having the skills needed, had been the only applicant who felt as Robert did about China.
Most of the interviews ended quickly. However, he had spent more than an hour with Gerard talking about Taoism and Confucianism and how both influenced the culture. The others applicants had expressed no interest.
In fact, Robert made it a point to reject anyone that thought like Horatio Lay or people like Parkes or Sir Bruce.
“Monsieur Hart,” Gerard had said during the interview, “I’ve read Confucius in the original Chinese and was impressed at what he said about the ‘first of all virtues’.”
“Go on.” Robert already knew about the positive and negative aspects of Confucius and his teachings, but he wanted to hear what Gerard had to say.
“Confucius said that the reason for filial piety is not because it is to be seen in the home and not everyday life. The central idea behind filial piety was so man respects all those who are fathers in the world, and younger brothers should respect all those who are older brothers.”
“And what did Confucius mean?”
“That those who love their parents dare not show hatred to others and that those who respect their parents dare not show rudeness to others.” Gerard’s green eyes were full of light. “After I read Confucius, I felt ashamed, because I have often taken my father and my three older brothers for granted. I vowed I would never do so again.”
“Do you see a similarity between filial piety and the Fifth Commandment: ‘Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long’?” Robert asked.
“Yes, it seems Confucius agreed with God about honoring parents. Do you think that Confucius knew about the Ten Commandments?”
“The possibility exists. After all, Moses led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt between thirteen and sixteen hundred years before Jesus Christ was born, and Confucius lived about five hundred years before Jesus. It would be safe to say that a thousand years would be sufficient time for knowledge of the Ten Commandments to reach China.”
That interview had taken place months ago.
He was still staring at Gerard, who was engrossed in his work. Robert closed his eyes and rubbed them. He had been getting only a few hours sleep at night, and his eyes were dry and itched. There was much to be done and never enough time.
The dispatch about the assault on Horatio was folded and filed. He was pleased with his Frenchman, because Gerard was honest, loyal and hardworking. Best of all, he had an inquisitive mind and respected other cultures.
Robert felt guilt. After all, Lay was older than he was. To Confucius, it didn’t matter that Horatio was someone Robert did not respect or like. Robert had to show respect no matter what. He was not allowed to be rude. He understood what Confucius meant. On the other hand, he was not Chinese.
When he thought about Horatio in mixed company with the Chinese, he saw a clumsy vulture blundering among peacocks. For that and other reasons, Robert could not always be courteous, as Confucius had taught— to forgive and look the other way as if nothing had happened.
He had been in China long enough to see that as one of the flaws of Chinese culture. It automatically allowed unworthy people to gain positions of respect and power just because they were older.
Horatio saw China through a different lens. What Gerard had said about Lay was true. Horatio did not have a grasp of the Chinese mind or their culture. He spoke Ma
ndarin fluently but saw China as another outlet for the British Empire to expand its power and add to the profits of its merchants.
What baffled Robert was why the Dynasty trusted Horatio. After all, Horatio did not believe that the Manchu or the Han should rule China. He felt Britain should be in charge as they were in India.
The only explanation was that Horatio had learned to keep his opinions to himself, at least around the Manchu royalty.
After the news got out, the subject of most conversations in Canton’s foreign community focused on Horatio Lay’s assault. Robert avoided getting involved, but he heard what others had to say.
“I dread taking a walk even with a pistol,” one merchant said. “Who can be trusted in China besides our kind?”
“I’ve had similar thoughts,” his companion replied. “What if China’s population suddenly goes over to the Taipings and defeats the Manchu? If the Ch’ing Dynasty falls, we will be sitting on a mountain of gunpowder ready to explode. It wouldn’t take long for the natives to be at our throats.”
“From now on, if one of them gets too close, I’m going to give that Chinaman a thrashing he won’t forget,” the first merchant said.
That kind of talk worried Robert. If the foreign merchants and diplomats continued to treat the Chinese without respect, it would be like lighting the fuse to that pile of gunpowder. He saw that his job as a ‘cultural-go-between’ was going to become more of a challenge.
Chapter 42
A request to attend a private meeting with Lao Ch’ung-kuang, the governor-general of Canton, arrived a few weeks after Horatio had been wounded. Robert went to the governor’s palace and met Lao in his private office next to the formal audience hall. The office was twice as wide as it was deep. To the left sat a desk.
Twenty feet to the right by glass doors that opened on a courtyard sat a table, couch and chairs. The table was on a Persian carpet, and on the table was a wide, oval brass bowl holding fresh fruit. There was also a steaming teapot and two cups. The couch had its back against the wall near the glass doors while the chairs and table were closer to the center of the room.
The rosewood furniture was intricately carved with flowers and birds. Lao offered one of the chairs next to the table and a servant poured tea.
Obviously, this meeting wasn’t formal and Robert relaxed. Court ritual added hours to a meeting and he dreaded that.
They drank tea and talked about local issues first.
“Prince Kung sent word that I should present you with an invitation,” Lao said, when he finally broached the subject of the summons. “I am sure you heard that Horatio Lay is returning to England to recover from his knife wounds. Because of this, Prince Kung wants you to go to Peking and meet with him and his grand-board members. If you agree, you will become acting inspector general for Customs in Shanghai until Horatio Lay returns.”
Robert’s first reaction was doubt. He was only twenty-six. Was he ready? He wasn’t sure that he could do the job. What if he failed and made a fool of himself? Then he remembered that Lay was only three years older. “Why have I been selected?” he asked. “There must be any number of men who could do this job, men older and wiser than I am.”
Lao waved a hand as if to erase Robert’s words. “Your reputation as a man who can fix things has spread. I told Prince Kung that you were the only suitable candidate. In fact, I would like to see you replace Horatio Lay and have considered suggesting this to the Emperor.”
He was surprised to hear that the Chinese thought so highly of his abilities. He didn’t know what to say, and his face turned hot. “Thank you,” he said, “but I cannot take Horatio’s job from him while he is recovering from wounds gained serving China. It would be improper.”
“You do honor to your family,” Lao said. “Your father would be proud. Prince Kung will understand if you accept the position in Shanghai until Horatio Lay returns. If you decline, I will let Prince Kung know that you would prefer to stay in Canton.”
“It is true that I’m reluctant to leave. My job in Canton is not finished. Who will replace me?”
“The head is more important than a toe. You must go. The Emperor is aware that you are the only foreigner working hard to keep China from being eaten by Britain and France.”
“That cannot be the true,” Robert replied. “There must be others.”
Lao shook his head. “At first, we thought you would hire only English. When you did not, we were confused. We watched you hire men from every nation, even Han Chinese. That clever thinking won our approval.”
“The Dynasty trusts me with a great responsibility. I will go to Peking.”
“Of course, if given a choice, I would prefer that you stay in Canton. Now that you have accepted the offer, Hung-chi, as inspector general of Canton, will have to do the work until your return.”
He hesitated for Hung-chi would destroy everything Robert had built. Lao stood and with hands clasped behind his back walked back and forth.
Robert started to stand.
“Sit. No need to get up. My thinking is clearer when I am on my feet. A bad habit. Eat something.” He waved at the fruit. “I picked them this morning in my garden.”
Robert poured tea into his cup and examined the fruit. He selected a white peach and bit into it. His mouth was flooded with juicy sweetness, and he had to put a cupped hand under his chin to catch the juice. Then a servant handed him a warm, damp cloth.
“When I told Hung-chi, he protested and urged me to keep you here. That confused me. He has only complained about you before.”
Hung-chi was a thief. He was taking bribes from just about everyone. He had even tried to bribe Robert. Instead, Robert had instituted polices that made it difficult for Hung-chi to get money illegally and if he became the inspector general in Shanghai, he would outrank Hung-chi.
“Hung-chi is overwhelmed with all the challenges he faces,” Robert said. “If you will accept my recommendation, I will assign an assistant, a man I have trained, to replace me while I’m gone. You can trust that he will do the job adequately. His honesty is above reproach.”
Lao stopped pacing and stared at Robert. “What I find disturbing is that Peking sent the message to Hung-chi first. When you did not respond, Peking asked me to talk to you. Did you get that message?”
“No.”
“When I asked Huang-chi why he never gave the invitation to you, he said he never received it. I know that is not true. Do you know why Hung-chi did this?”
“I have no idea.” He lied. “The only explanation I can think of is that he is overwhelmed with problems from the English and French.”
Lao studied Robert’s face looking for answers. He had just insinuated that Hung-chi was incompetent and was sure that Lao thought there was more to it than that.
“Anyone you recommend to replace you will be accepted,” Lao said, returning to his chair. He signaled for more hot tea. A servant came with a fresh pot.
“It wouldn’t hurt if you kept a closer eye on Hung-chi.” Robert was skirting close to the edge. It was not wise to be direct. It was acceptable to reach the truth in a roundabout way, even if it meant using small lies. His hands were cold and damp from stress. He wanted to dry them but needed to look calm. If he appeared nervous, Lao might distrust what he said.
Lao’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Is there something that I should know?” He formed a tent with his fingers and hid most of his face behind it.
“What I mean,” Robert replied, “is to have your people stand by in case the English or French become too difficult to deal with. Many of their merchants have been coming to Hung-chi asking for advice. It has been difficult for him. I am sure if you discover why Hung-chi is having these difficulties and solve that problem for him, you will gain face. You might consider placing a trusted servant in Hung-chi’s home and another in his office.”
Lao’s eyebrows shot up. He took a long breath and relaxed by sipping tea. Then he nodded. “I see,” he said. He leaned toward Robert, as if t
hey were coconspirators. His eyes gleamed. “So, who is this man you are recommending to take your place and be a thorn in Hung-chi’s side?”
Robert resisted the urge to laugh. Lao knew more than he was letting on. He probably already had spies watching Hung-chi. “My replacement is a Frenchman named Gerard. He speaks Chinese fluently and understands the meaning of filial piety. He has studied Confucius and is fearless. No one will intimidate him. You can trust him as much as you trust me.”
“Really,” Lao said. “Then we will rely on him. I did not think there could be two foreigners like you in China.”
With the unexpected promotion came higher pay, and Robert requested an advance on his salary. Once the silver taels arrived, he sent enough money with Guan-jiah to Chou Luk in Macao.
“Once Cousin Weed is free, bring Ayaou back,” he said.
Guan-jiah nodded and hurried off.
The day Guan-jiah returned from Macao, Robert met him inside the mansion’s front entrance. “Good news, Master.”
“If it isn’t about cousin Weed, I don’t want to hear it,” Robert replied and tried to see around the eunuch. The double doors were almost closed and only a sliver of sky was visible revealing that it was going to be dark soon.
A huge grin split Guan-jiah’s face. “Chou Luk managed to meet the ransom demands.” The eunuch pushed the double doors wide and stepped aside revealing Ayaou and Anna holding hands. Fooyen stood behind them, but Robert couldn’t see Ayaou’s face since it was hidden in the shadows.
“Ba, Ba,” Anna said. She yanked her little hand free and ran to him.
He squatted and braced himself as the two-year-old leaped into his arms. He was amazed. When Ayaou had left, Anna had been unsteady on her feet. Now she was running. He imagined she must be getting into everything, and she had called him daddy. “She talks,” he said.
His eyes watered from emotion. “Have you any other words in that mouth?” He held her at arm’s length and examined her. She squirmed and giggled. He ticked her and she laughed louder.
My Splendid Concubine Page 49