Captain Young agreed – he must have the Company’s approval before he could stand as governor of a new colony. He could and would detach some of his force but could do no more.
I made my thanks for the honour given me – I was acting-governor of an unknown flyspeck on the Malay shore, and liable to be the focus of French ire when they discovered their own forces to have disappeared. I was, Captain Partridge said, to tell the French if they came that we had destroyed the pirate garrison of the harbour and that there had been no trace of any previous holders. The harbour was ours, because we had taken it from its native owners, and we expected reinforcement from India any day. The French could have no claim, and we had a fort manned and waiting to assert our rights.
It might work, but the probability was that they would try to wipe us out.
We recruited labour from the town and set the French prisoners to work as well, building a pair of batteries, landing the sloop’s small guns as their first armament. Coromandel took four hundred tons of ore aboard, her holds filled, our accommodation returned to its original use. She sailed as soon as she was loaded. Captain Partridge landed half of his gunners and promised to drive hard for Bombay, regretting that he could not have used Calcutta instead, but our clandestine business might have come to light had he done so.
“The Company will have no difficulty in applauding us after the event, gentlemen, they want tin. Until all is settled, it is wiser to keep secrecy.”
Leeds Castle sailed two days later, having taken aboard the remaining stock of ore and the prisoners, and leaving behind a company of sepoys to join the garrison, temporarily, until the harbour was properly organised.
“Three months, gentlemen. Six at most,” Captain Young glibly assured his people.
He left rations for two weeks.
The belongings of the French officers, together with their official funds, had left us with some two hundred guineas, which was a substantial sum with rice at less than a penny a pound weight, but which might stretch thin over six months.
I sat down with Captain Norris, who had been left in command of the sepoys, and discussed our future.
“One hundred and ninety of us, counting in the gunners, Mr Jackson. The French had rations for three weeks and only a little of money. What did they intend?”
It seemed clear – either a store ship to arrive or the local people to pay tax. Probably both, thinking it over.
“We must make contact with the town mayor, or whatever he may be, Captain Norris. Perhaps your Lieutenant Binks might do that?”
There was a chance that they might trust a whiteskin more than they would an Indian man. Local hatreds of foreigners might not yet extend as far as Europeans, but they would definitely have no use for possible pirates. The sepoy officers had fine uniforms tucked away in their baggage, which might make them more impressive. Add to that, the job of making contact with people who did not speak our languages was not going to be easy – it was ideal for Binks, I considered.
Binks was less happy but obedient to command.
“What am I to tell them, sir?”
“We will provide them with protection if enemies arrive. We have our fort with its batteries. If they show willing, we shall defend them. In return, we require a tax. Not a large tax but sufficient to feed us all and pay the men a small wage, which they will spend in the town. They can have the hull of the sloop rather than burn it. The boatyards can make use of the timbers, I do not doubt. We have done it before and found a hull to be a welcome gift.”
Binks saluted me, unwillingly, I am sure, and stomped off to find a merchant or other leader to speak to. He was accompanied by a sergeant’s guard, just six men, hopefully enough to remind the townspeople that we were soldiers.
Fred had taken over part of the French officers’ quarters for my comfort. It was not luxury, perhaps, but it was proof against the rain and contained a bed in one small chamber and a table to work at in another. There was a rudimentary mess to eat in and to lounge in of an evening. It could have been worse.
The French had evidently intended to stay – they had spent some effort on converting the warehouse to their needs. Good of them, useful to us as soon as the bloodstains had been scrubbed out. Jamadar Rao’s men had been thorough in their assault, killing the officers and their servants quite equally.
I sat with Captain Norris at our mess table while we waited for Binks to return, enjoying a quiet gin and water and sketching out our plans for the next few months.
“Too few of us to go inland to find the mines, Captain Norris. We must encourage the merchants to replenish their stocks and permit them then to trade exclusively with us in India. As far as we are concerned, the stock of ore in the warehouses had been prized by the French and we took it from them. We shall take nothing from the local folk, except in agreed taxes.”
It made sense to Captain Norris. The townspeople would be in the habit of paying tax to their previous lords. Now they might pay us.
“What of young Binks, Mr Jackson? From all he has said, I do not think he much likes you. He might try to force a quarrel on you.”
“One might have hoped that he would have learned from his last experience of so doing, Captain Norris. However, if he is so foolish then I shall accommodate him, sir. We are short of officers and he seems capable enough – I should be unwilling to lose his services. Do try to dissuade him if you can. Point out to him that if there is to be a formal meeting then he will have to accept the services of native officers as his seconds. From all I recall of him, he would not like that.”
“Neither he would! As an officer, his friends must also be of commission rank, which means the subedar and myself. It is hardly possible – I must explain that to him. Any quarrel will have to be resolved in Bombay.”
It made sense that it should be so. I hoped Binks would see sense.
We were disturbed as we sat by a thin wailing noise from the town. Captain Norris told me it was the Mussulman call to prayers.
“Silent until now, Captain?”
“They will have prayed, but less visibly for fear of angering their new masters. I do not doubt that Binks has made contact with them and assured them that we will not interfere with their religion. One of the first things we drum into the young officer is to respect their religions – no matter how bizarre they are. If they wish to condemn their souls to Hell by praying to their outlandish jujus and such – let them! It ain’t our business and we are not to convert them or forbid them their little ways. If they wish to stick their arses up into the air and call for this Allah fellow to come down to them, that’s up to them, and we say nothing and do not laugh in public. In turn, they leave us alone and don’t preach against a drop of gin on a dry day. Live and let live is the Company’s policy.”
It made good sense to me. The Chinese had their stupid demons who could be driven off by loud noises and the Hindoos had their hundreds of gods and we had our God and all of the rituals associated with him. Who was to say that one was heathen and another not?
It was interesting though, for another reason. The first junk we had taken in Jenny Dawes had been trading for tin with a Moslem port. It seemed possible that this was it, in which case we should be alert for innocent fellows sailing in to make their purchases. The last such junk we had taken had been worth fifty thousand, after all. I mentioned the fact to Captain Norris and found him more than willing to cooperate in taking any and every junk that chose to come inshore.
We had the sloop’s boats still and Coromandel had left a pair of swivels apiece for two of them, in case of need. I asked Jamadar Rao to nominate his men for crews who could man the whalers in coastal waters in order to cut off any junk that might show shy and try to flee from the harbour having once identified its new owners.
Binks came staggering back half-drunk towards sunset. He had been made welcome, he said, the local merchants being most kind to him.
“They say they will trade with the John Company, sir. They know of the Company an
d had three men who spoke passable English. They said that the Company was known for paying its debts, for trading honestly, and they would be prepared to work with us. There is a sort of council, I suppose you could call it, sir, of the merchants and traders generally. There was used to be a rajah sort of fellow, but they killed him ten years ago for being cruel. From what they said, an old man died and left a young son who did not know the proper ways of going on, so they strangled him one morning and took over from him. I said we would work with the council, sir. The Frogs had insisted that they would rule the town and had threatened to shoot any man who objected.”
Captain Norris and I both agreed that Binks had been right to promise that we would work with them rather than try to rule them. We had too few men to subdue even a small town.
“They will pay a tax to us, sir. Not big, they said, but sufficient for us to build a new barracks if we want. They will supply food each week, sir. Some goats and rice and whatever else there is in the way of fruit and vegetables. They said, sir, that they had the command of a battalion of their own people, mostly armed with spears and swords. They had had it in mind to kill the French but would promise to be good for us. They said the reason was that the French had lost the last war in these waters and there was no sense in supporting the losing side.”
Binks had done very well, we agreed.
“Will they want a written treaty?”
“No. They say that treaties are written by lawyers and will have words in them that do not mean what they say. If they sign a treaty, they will find themselves caught out. Best to simply make a few verbal promises and stick to that.”
It was difficult to argue against that premise. The local folk believed that lawyers were rogues who could not be trusted. We shared that belief. Who did not?
We worked furiously for a fortnight, completing the batteries and their little magazines and making ourselves comfortable in our quarters. The merchants gave us their trust – no doubt conditionally – and began to bring ore into the warehouses, while the fisher fleet set sail every night and returned soon after dawn in the proper fashion to sell us fish.
The battalion of guards or militia or whatever they might be, made themselves useful out in the jungle, bringing in French soldiers almost every day. A few of them were alive and walking, which was a minor inconvenience. We set them to work and offered them a choice – become English soldiers or be given to the local people as slaves. All changed nationality.
I talked long with Captain Norris and Binks, debating with them whether we should sell the merchants the two hundred French muskets and their store of powder and ball. The French used a calibre smaller than our Brown Bess, which was a Short Land India Pattern, the soldiers gravely informed me – and we could not conveniently use them. The merchants would, we thought, welcome the chance to arm two or three companies with modern weaponry. Muskets would almost guarantee them victory in any fight with pirates or against smaller local rajahs. There were other tin mines in the hills behind us, owned by differing local princes. It might make good sense to bring them into friendly hands.
There was the fear that the merchants might turn the muskets on us when once they had trained their men to use them. Binks was certain they would not and he remained our contact with the council, was best placed to make a judgement.
We decided to take the risk and sent Binks off to talk with the locals. He came back with a deputation at his side.
“They are most desirous of buying, sir.” Binks would only ever make his report to Captain Norris. Militarily, he was correct to do so. I did not argue. He was stiffly polite to me and gave no grounds for any grievance. It was the course of wisdom, which surprised me.
“They ask whether we might not wish to train their men in the proper use of the musket.”
The members of the deputation explained that they had seen the Company’s troops at drill and firing their volleys. They wondered if their own people might not do the same.
Captain Norris was unsure of the wisdom of allowing the local people to become too efficient. So was I, but we had to show trust I believed.
“Will you do so, Captain Norris? Your sergeants are the people for this job.”
That was obviously true and he agreed at once, merely stipulating that I, as acting-Governor, gave him a written order. I wrote it out immediately, intending to run rather than face a board of inquiry if all went wrong.
“What price did you agree upon, Mr Binks?”
I had to be formal in the presence of the merchants, knowing that they would have at least one of their English-speakers in their little group.
“In Chinese taels, sir. One of the heavy, five tael pieces for each musket and one for each twenty of ball, sir. They will offer twelve of the pieces for each barrel of French powder, sir. We calculated a round figure of one thousand pieces, sir.”
That came to some two thousand pounds in Bombay. Quick debate said we could accept the payment and distribute it between us.
“A quarter between the three white officers, gentlemen. Another quarter to the warrant officers, including my Maneater. The remainder to split among the rest.”
The two soldiers agreed and we paid out that evening. By the end of next day we had company in our sleeping rooms, as, at a glance, did every one of the sepoys and boarders in the barracks. I made no comment when I spotted that the lissom figure in Binks’ room was not female; it was his business. Captain Norris seemed less happy about the activities of his junior, but I left that to him to deal with.
Another week and the sentries we had posted at the highest safe point of the old fort shouted a sail out to sea and making towards the harbour.
“Junk, sir. Big. Four masts, might be five. Making towards the deep channel.”
“Gunners to the batteries! Musketmen to arms, out of sight in the warehouses.”
The havildars knew where their men should be and ran in a scream of orders.
I trotted down to the nearer battery and knelt out of sight, peering through an embrasure, my sixteen of fit men behind me.
It was one of the biggest ocean-going junks, more than a thousand tons at a glance. There were only a few of them and it made sense for such a vessel to be involved in the highly-profitable tin trade. I doubted it would have fewer than two hundred men aboard, possibly a lot more. I sent a runner to bring Captain Norris to me. He was at my side before the junk was well inshore.
“We will take losses if we fight this one, Captain Norris, and we expect the French at any time.”
We could take the junk, almost of a certainty, but it would not come for free.
Norris agreed, the price could well be too high. Better to allow the Chinese to trade for the tin ore in the warehouses. There was time to put together another cargo for the Company, no need to hold on to what we had got.
The order was mine to give; the blame mine if the Company later found it to be mistaken.
“Pass the word. Do not fire on the junk. Treat the Chinese as friendly merchants. All guns to be loaded, all men on duty. Return fire if attacked.”
I stood forwards on the wharf, in full view of the junk, my guard behind me to show that I was important.
The master of the junk knew the harbour and brought his massive craft sidling into the wharf in a very tidy piece of seamanship. She was a tall ship, her sides looming a good ten feet above the timbers where I stood. The longshoremen were scurrying to tie her up, looking sideways at me the while and for ten minutes or so nothing more happened.
Finally a figure leaned out over the side of the junk and called to me in Pidgin.
‘Who was I and what did I want’, I translated for the benefit of the men behind me.
I thought a few seconds, blessing the months I had spent at Whampoa, and assembled a reply.
“The Honourable East India Company has a presence in this port. Trade is permitted to friendly merchants. There will be a customs duty on all goods passing through. God bless the King!”
They wou
ld not have believed me to be English if I had not added the ritual words.
We shouted at each other for the better part of half an hour, establishing each other’s bona fides, you might say. The Chinese supercargo consented to come down to the wharf and exchange bows.
Binks arrived with local merchants and there was an immediate hubbub as, I presume, Chinese and Malay argued who should pay the new taxes.
Two hours later I was sat watching and counting as sacks of tin ore were lifted aboard by a stream of running labourers.
“Four hundred sacks, each of about one hundred pounds weight.”
The merchants agreed, the Chinese rather sourly. They had hoped for ten times as much, two hundred tons at least.
I explained in Pidgin that the bulk of the ores would henceforth be going to John Company. I much regretted that the trade with China must take second place to the Company’s needs.
I have no doubt that was reported back to Canton and added to the festering list of grievances against the Company. That was no problem of mine.
The master of the junk appeared with his catties of silver and placed the agreed rate of tax, ten taels a sack, in front of me. Tin was valuable stuff and he had not blinked at the level of duty. I should have set it higher, it seemed.
He had rice and wheat flour to trade, he said. Rations such as soldiers always needed. He could offer twenty tons of each, of guaranteed quality, in place of the tax. I knew enough of China to haggle and we ended on forty tons of rice and twenty-five of flour, a score of sacks of my choosing to be opened as they came ashore. It would have taken too long to inspect every sack. It was not that I did not trust him, but the odds were that some of his cargo would be of lesser quality – and he would know which.
We stacked the rations high in our store rooms, stone-built and raised on pillars above ground level to keep the vermin out. We now had the surplus to allow for bad faith on the part of the merchants of the town.
Nobody’s Child Page 24