China

by Edward Rutherfurd

  * * *

  —

  As they mounted the huge baked-mud ramparts in front of the granite-walled fort, Shi-Rong looked around admiringly. Every wall had been reinforced. The same was true at the fort on the opposite riverbank. And as they reached the shore battery and gazed at the long line of big cannon set in their granite emplacements, he murmured, “Magnificent.”

  Here again, the commissioner was treated to a demonstration. First, the whole line of cannon fired with a deafening roar. And everyone watched as the cannonballs made a line of splashes far out in the water. A moment later, they saw puffs of smoke, followed by a roar, from the battery almost two miles away on the opposite side. After this little show, the gunnery officer conducted Lin and Shi-Rong along the line of cannon to inspect the gun crews.

  Nio waited. But when Lin was halfway along the line, he sidled up to the nearest cannon and looked at it curiously. It was a handsome monster. The outer surface of its mighty barrel was deeply pitted. “It looks old,” he said to the senior gunner.

  “More than a hundred years, but it’s good as new,” the sturdy gunner answered.

  Nio inspected the great gun more carefully. Its weight must be enormous, but he couldn’t see any mechanism for directing its fire.

  “How do you point it?” he asked.

  “The barrel’s fixed. No need to point it. We wait until the ship’s in front of us. Then the whole battery fires. So does the battery opposite.”

  “It seems a long way to the far bank. Would the cannonballs reach ships out in the middle?”

  “Ah, but the channel’s narrower between the next pair of forts, farther upriver. Nothing can get past them.”

  “What if a dragon boat came in close to the bank, under the line of fire?”

  “The troops would take care of them, wouldn’t they?”

  “I suppose so.” Nio considered. “What if an enemy ship fires at you with their cannon?”

  “Ships’ cannon aren’t that big. Nothing could get through the rampart walls, anyway. Not a chance.” The gunner laughed. “We’ll smash them to pieces, all right. They’d never get upstream.”

  “I see what you mean,” said Nio politely. “Thank you.”

  When the commissioner and Shi-Rong got back, they were looking very pleased.

  “Ask him what he thinks of the battery,” said Lin with a smile. “Is it good enough for him?”

  So Shi-Rong asked. And Nio took no chances. “It is truly wonderful, Lord,” he said.

  After Lin got into his litter, he turned to Shi-Rong. “How is your honorable father? When do you next write to him?”

  “I was going to write tonight, Excellency.”

  “Come to me when you have finished your letter. I shall add a word myself.”

  * * *

  —

  It was quite late that night when Shi-Rong approached the library where the great man worked. But he could see from the light under the door that his master was still there.

  “You told me to report when I had finished the letter to my father, Excellency.”

  “Ah, yes. May I see?”

  Shi-Rong placed it on the table. It was a good letter. Apart from the usual inquiries after his father’s and his aunt’s health, he gave a brief report of his recent duties and a vivid account of the events that day. While he used no words of flattery, it was clear that he held his master Lin in the highest regard, and this was no more than the truth.

  Lin read it, gave a grunt of approval, and laid the letter on the table again. He motioned Shi-Rong to sit down. “I am considering a private message to Elliot,” the commissioner announced. “Before I send it, tell me what you think.” After Shi-Rong had bowed, Lin continued. “The other day, quite accidentally, a British sailor was drowned, and his body has washed up.”

  “So I heard, Excellency.”

  “It would perhaps be convenient if this corpse was the very man we had demanded for the murder of our unfortunate villager. The case could then be closed without loss of face to ourselves or the British. What do you think?”

  “Your Excellency can be devious,” Shi-Rong remarked with a smile.

  “The emperor does not require us to be stupid.”

  “Elliot would be a fool not to accept your offer,” Shi-Rong replied. “But may I ask a question?”

  Lin gave him a brief nod.

  “Our power is overwhelming, and the barbarians must know it. Now you generously offer them a further concession. Yet I cannot help wondering: Are you never tempted just to crush the British barbarians once and for all?”

  “Personally?” Lin smiled. “Of course. But you have asked the wrong question. It is the wishes of the emperor that matter, not mine. And what did the emperor tell me to do?”

  “To stop the opium smuggling.”

  “Correct. Did he tell me to go to war with the barbarians?”

  “Not so far, Excellency.”

  “There is a large tea trade with the barbarians. Our farmers grow it. Our Hong merchants sell it. Did the emperor tell me to destroy the tea trade?”

  “No, Excellency.”

  “So the matter is very simple. The British may trade in tea, but they must not smuggle opium, concerning which they must sign our bond promising to submit to our justice. Elliot says their laws forbid them to sign. Then their laws should be changed. I hope that his queen has read my letter by now, and that if she is just, she will forbid the opium trade and tell the British merchants to submit at once. Then the problem is ended and my job is done.” He paused. “In the meantime, is the tea trade continuing?”

  “Yes, Excellency. The American ships are carrying the tea at present.”

  “Just so. The Americans and other barbarians who submit to our laws can enter the river and purchase the tea. Meanwhile, the British merchants are not allowed in. The tea gets to Britain, of course, but the British merchants are unable to carry it. Americans and others are commandeering every available vessel, shipping the tea, and taking the profit, leaving the British merchants out in the cold. For this, they have no one to blame but themselves.”

  “Is it true, Excellency, that the Americans have been allowed to sign a less stringent bond that doesn’t oblige them to submit to our justice?”

  “Their bond is in their own language, so I couldn’t say.” The cunning bureaucrat allowed himself a faint smile. “Apart from the villainous Delano, the Americans hardly smuggle opium, so it doesn’t really matter what they sign.”

  “Do you think the British are so greedy, Excellency, that for this cause they would attack us?”

  “Who knows?” Lin answered, this time with genuine perplexity. “I have yet to understand their morality.”

  He picked up Shi-Rong’s letter again. Taking a brush and dipping it in the ink, he selected a convenient space on the paper, quickly wrote a few characters, and returned the letter to Shi-Rong, who read what he had written.

  Fortunate the master, whose secretary is trusted;

  Happy the father, whose son is praised.

  A perfect Chinese couplet: each sentence a mirror of the other, each word in perfect grammatical balance with its fellows. As for the elegant calligraphy, every brushstroke showed the purity of soul and the sense of justice of the writer. As Shi-Rong gazed at the message and thought of the joy it would bring his father, tears came into his eyes.

  He bowed from the waist, both to show his respect and to hide the tears.

  * * *

  ◦

  “Damn Hong Kong!” said Tully as he stood with John Trader on the deck of the ship that for weeks had been their home. He said it every morning. With the steep mountain of the Peak towering just behind it, Hong Kong Harbour presented a magnificent panorama—but not one that gave any pleasure to Tully Odstock.

  “At least we can get food from the mainland,
” said Trader. “And they didn’t really poison the water.”

  “I wish to God they had,” Tully muttered. Eyes bulging, he glared across the waters where the British ships had already been anchored for weeks. “I’d sooner be dead than go on like this.”

  Trader couldn’t blame him. Everybody was bored. “Well, we’re safe at least,” he said soothingly.

  “Marooned, more like. Chained to that cursed rock.” Odstock nodded towards the Peak. “Look!” He shot his short arms out furiously towards the anchorage. “There’s seventy British ships at anchor. And not a damned one I can use.”

  “We need patience,” Trader ventured.

  “We need tea,” Tully growled. He was silent for a moment. “You saw a letter came aboard for me this morning? It was from my father in London.” He took the letter out of his pocket. “You’d better read it.”

  Ebenezer Odstock’s handwriting was still bold, but it seemed that old age was beginning to take its toll.

  “I am sorry his teeth are so bad,” said Trader. Tully greeted this with a snort. “And his leg: He says he can hardly get into the office, even with a stick.” Another snort. Trader started reading aloud. “ ‘And I fear my brain is becoming dull.’ ”

  “The old devil,” said Tully.

  “ ‘Given the uncertainty of the China trade at present,’ ” Trader continued to read, “ ‘it is anticipated that tea will be in short supply, and the price may rise very high. I should be grateful, my dear son, if you would send me all the tea you can, at your earliest convenience.’ ”

  “And I can’t,” Tully almost wailed. It seemed strange to Trader that the gruff middle-aged merchant should still be so afraid of his father. “The spring harvest from the backcountry, the best damn crop, is coming into Canton as we speak. Joker will sell me as much as I can take. I can pay in silver. I’ve even got a vessel I could use. But I can’t get upriver because I’m not allowed to sign Lin’s bond.”

  “We can’t contract with an American merchant?”

  “I’ve tried. All committed. All loaded to the gills with cotton to sell, and they’ll come out with tea. And none of it for me.”

  “I suppose we couldn’t just sign Lin’s damned bond, could we? Promise not to carry opium? I mean, not just at the moment, of course.”

  Tully shook his head. “I don’t like Elliot, but he’s right about one thing. Got to stick together. We’ve told Lin that no British merchant can sign any bond that places him under Chinese law. Can’t be done. But if so much as one us breaks ranks…Case falls to the ground. Not a leg to stand on. And once we submit to Chinese law, we’re under their thumb forever. Any Chinese judge can torture and hang us at will.” He shook his head glumly. “Nothing for it. I’ll have to tell the old man I can’t get him any tea.”

  “I’m sure he’ll understand,” Trader offered.

  “You don’t know him.”

  “I think,” said Trader after a brief pause, “that I may have an idea.”

  * * *

  —

  The little ship, having no cargo, rode high in the water as it emerged the next morning from under the shadow of the soaring Peak of Hong Kong and headed across the gulf.

  Halfway across, Trader saw a Chinese war junk in the distance; an hour later a dragon boat appeared. But neither approached his little ship. As he gazed across the waters towards the hills of Macao, he wondered: Was he going to see Marissa again?

  He remembered the vague awkwardness in his manner when he’d parted from her—a lover who made no promise to return. Perhaps she had another man by now. But if she hadn’t? Memories came back: the texture of her skin, her hair in his hands, the smell of her. How would it be if they met again? What would happen?

  Before noon, he could see the empty facade of the cathedral, high on top of the hill, gleaming in the sun. He’d have to go up there anyway, to find Read, assuming the American was still on the island—which he surely must be. His kindly friend wouldn’t have vanished over the horizon without letting him know.

  By the time they anchored in the Macao Roads, a jolly boat was already on its way to greet them. In less than half an hour Trader was on the quay and about to walk up the hill when, to his surprise, he saw the burly American not fifty yards away.

  “Why, it’s young Trader.” Read came towards him, hand outstretched. “What brings you here, my friend?”

  “I came to see you. I was just going up to Mrs. Willems’s house.”

  “Ah.” Did a tiny shadow pass across Read’s face? If so, it was dispelled almost instantly by a big grin. “Well, you already found me.”

  “Is Mrs. Willems well?”

  “She is.”

  “And Marissa?”

  “Not on the island just now. She went away to see her family.”

  * * *

  —

  They sat together in a Portuguese taverna while Trader explained what he needed.

  “So you want me to act as an American merchant, take over your contracts with this Chinese merchant you call Joker, ship the tea out of Whampoa in that vessel out in the Roads, and bring it to Hong Kong? For which Odstocks will pay me.”

  “Generously.”

  “You supply the ship, pay for all the goods.”

  “Correct.”

  Read took a pull on his cigar. “The fact is,” he said, “I could do with a little action.” He grinned. “Macao’s a good place. But I was getting a little bored.”

  “You should do it, then,” Trader encouraged.

  “I could get papers from the governor here, to say I’m a bona fide American merchant. That wouldn’t be a problem. I did him a favor the other day. We’d need to fly an American flag, of course. Maybe change the ship’s name.” He considered. “Yankee Lady. How’s that? You got a crew and skipper?”

  “A good Chinese crew. The mate can handle the ship. And he knows the waters.”

  Read shook his head. “You need a skipper. But don’t worry. I’ve got one for you.”

  “Where?”

  “Right here, looking at you.”

  “You’ve actually been a ship’s captain?”

  “Many times. Pay me the going rate as skipper, in addition to the rest, and you have a deal.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Let’s get those papers from the governor right away, then.”

  * * *

  —

  The governor’s offices were on the Praia Grande. It felt good to be walking along the handsome curve of the great esplanade again. Trader half expected Tully Odstock to appear on his afternoon constitutional along the seafront.

  When they got to the Portuguese governor’s office, Read explained his mission to an assistant, who ushered them into a waiting room. But they didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, the assistant appeared again at the door. “The governor will see you now, Mr. Read.”

  A quarter of an hour later, Read reappeared, waving some papers and looking happy. “Everything we need. Time to go,” he said briskly.

  “Are we going up to your lodgings?” Trader asked as they stepped out onto the Praia Grande.

  “I am. You aren’t,” Read said firmly. “You’d better go out to the ship right away. Have the men paint the new name on the bow while I get my things together. We’ll sail before evening.”

  * * *

  —

  While one of the crew painted in the letters—Yankee Lady—that he’d chalked on the bow, Trader stared across the water to Macao, where, high on its hill, the empty cathedral facade gleamed in the sunlight. And he thought about Marissa.

  * * *

  —

  “You’re all set now,” Trader said with a nod when Read finally arrived. “So I’ll go ashore. It’ll be easy to find a boat to take me from Macao back to Hong Kong.”

  Read gave him a curious look
. “I’ll need you in Canton, Trader,” he said firmly. “You know this Chinese merchant, Joker. You tell him it’s all right to deal with me. Otherwise I don’t sail.” Trader wasn’t pleased, though he supposed there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  As they sailed up the gulf that night, however, he did venture to ask: “How is Marissa?”

  “She’s all right.”

  “Does she have a new lover?”

  “None of your business,” Read answered. A minute went by. “When you’ve left a young woman, Trader,” Read said, “don’t go back. You only hurt ’em more.”

  * * *

  —

  In the morning, at the Bogue, Read presented his papers and signed the bond guaranteeing he carried no opium. Two officials quickly inspected the hold and gave Read his pass to proceed. Before noon he and Trader were ashore at Whampoa, and by late afternoon, they were making their way from the Canton factories to the house of old Joker.

  The dignified Hong merchant was delighted to see them. “Mr. Trader.” He beamed. “Long time no see. Your friend wants tea?”

  And the next morning he insisted upon coming with them downstream to Whampoa, to ensure that their vessel was properly loaded with all the tea it could carry.

  * * *

  —

  When he inspected their cargo, Tully Odstock was very pleased indeed. He gave a warm grunt of approval, shook hands with Read, and patted Trader on the back. “I never thought you’d be back so soon,” he confessed.

  “We left Macao the same day I arrived,” Trader explained. “And we came straight to Hong Kong from Whampoa.”

  Tully was entirely happy with the terms Read and Trader had agreed to and paid Read on the spot.

  “Care to go back again for more?” he asked the American.

  “Soon as you like.”