Foreign Mud

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by Andrew Wareham


  “A difficult explanation, perhaps, sir.”

  “Almost impossible, young lord.”

  “You have a thin crew, sir. I would have thought you might have wished for more men in the Malay waters.”

  “A fast ship, young lord, and shallow draught. I would not expect to be caught by a prahu unless it was itself very fast. The speedier the craft, the lighter its build and I do have three cannon and a gun crew trained aboard a Company ship.”

  That was a surprise. Enquiry disclosed that disease occasionally struck ships in Canton – the various fevers were not unknown. A merchantman that lost too many seamen must recruit more bodies at Whampoa or possibly Macao. Those men would eventually return, most of them, and would possess the skills gained by three or more years at sea in a gwailo ship. Not all of them chose to come back, it seemed, preferring the life at sea; it was rumoured that some had even gone to far London town and had set up on shore there, free men earning a living.

  The master did not approve of such, it was clear.

  “Chinese men should live in China, young lord. This ‘freedom’ is a very foolish concept!”

  I quite liked it, myself, but could see no gain to arguing the point.

  Very boring, a long voyage – not much to see, except sea, and little to do. When we passed close to the shores of the Spice Islands there was no great change – green and brown coconut palms instead of blue or grey sea.

  We spoke no other vessel until Bombay came in sight. There was a Bombay Marine schooner on a northerly course hailed us then.

  “What ship?”

  I replied, letting them see a European face.

  “Country lorcha under contract to Ainslie. Canton to Bombay.”

  No more was said – we were harmless, a small fast ship carrying a valuable cargo and without the smell of a slaver. The Marine would not interfere with trade.

  Ainslie was surprised to see me – he had thought I was fixed in Canton for years to come. Sunitra was delighted. She was still as carefree as ever though starting to grow up a little

  I explained my mission and broached the matter of an additional hulk to be anchored behind Lintin Island.

  “The ideal, Mr Ainslie, would be an aged Naval vessel – a Third Rate too worm-eaten to continue in service. Retaining her broadside. If possible, the magazine to contain a full issue of ball, though not powder, that being unnecessary.”

  Ainslie stared at me, his little blue eyes screwed up in suspicion.

  “A seventy-four, I presume, Mr Jackson?”

  “A sixty-four would do, sir. Just so long as she has a battery of twenty-four pound long guns, and an upper deck of eighteens besides. The people in Canton cannot cast great guns in iron, sir, and wish to possess some to set in batteries along their shores. They are short of trained gunners and have small idea of practice. Five years and the rot would have set into the gun carriages and the bores would be clogged with rust and the iron balls themselves would be corroded. Like most of China, the appearance of power is all to their generals; the reality is less important. A pair of forts with the barrels of great guns showing proud – that will satisfy the mandarins.”

  Ainslie was no fool. He knew some of the realities of the Chinese empire, was aware of the self-delusion that was central to their whole existence.

  “Ye know the truth of Canton, Mr Jackson. So do I. The Board in Leadenhall, in London are almost as blind as the mandarins in Peking. They know what they wish to know, and nothing else. To them, a cannon is a deadly weapon and they will not easily be persuaded that it is no more than a toy for mandarins to play with. How do you propose to bring them to understand that by arming the Chinese we are doing no more than pander to their political games?”

  “Let them hear of an old ship, sir, her guns replaced by even more ancient pieces tucked away at the rear of the arsenal and fit only for the scrap pile. Their touchholes are worn, their breeches honey-combed, the carriages full of shakes and termite-ridden. Easy enough to inform the Board that the Chinese – being foolish fellows, and foreign besides – have spent good money to buy trash. We have rid ourselves of valueless and ancient rubbish, and have made a profit in process, even if it be expressed in terms of goodwill rather than hard cash.”

  A while in thought and Ainslie chuckled.

  “It will do, Mr Jackson. We can probably get away with that. The purchases of muskets and musketoons, now, can go ahead with no difficulties. I had heard that there had been a large contract with a Swedish maker of muskets, not so many years ago?”

  I knew that to be true, had obliquely asked Mr Fong why they had not bought more there.

  “Sweden is no longer trading to Canton, Mr Ainslie. The reasons why are obscure, but I believe there is some sort of trouble in the country and there is a chance of war with both England and Russia while the French are being difficult to their south. What is happening in Denmark as well is unclear to Mr Fong. Suffice it to say that trade at the moment is with England and America, and the purchase of muskets is hardly practical elsewhere.”

  “So be it, Mr Jackson. What sort of commission have you in mind?”

  I shook my head.

  “None, sir! The Red Triad has placed a substantial amount in gold and silver in my hands and I am instructed to purchase all of the guns I can lay my hands on, with no mention of price. I do not doubt that that they have the means of discovering exactly how much a musket costs here in Bombay. I shall use their money for no purpose other than to procure muskets of the best quality at the lowest cost.”

  “Ye are likely very wise to do so, young man! This ‘Red Triad’, the now, would you describe it as powerful in the criminal fraternity?”

  I tried to educate Ainslie in the realities of Chinese existence.

  “The lord of the Triad, like those of the other Triads, is the master of life and death for those he commands. He can muster, they say, fifty thousand fighting men at an hour’s call. He was able to wholly destroy one of the pirate fleets that offended him, taking the Pirate King and flogging him to death in my presence, simply because he was annoyed at his presumption. He is loyal to the Qing, provided the Emperor does not tread on his toes. He obeys the Hoppo’s command but is in process of having the current Hoppo replaced for being inconvenient to the Triad’s needs. One must not think of the Triad as being criminal, sir, though they know no law other than their own. They are a part of China and must be accepted in Chinese terms. I live in Canton at the sufferance of the lord of the Red Triad. He finds me easier to deal with than the general run of merchants. That is much to our advantage, as no doubt the shroff has informed you.”

  Ainslie nodded reluctantly.

  “Our profit has doubled since you sat down in Canton, Mr Jackson. The shroff keeps me informed and has no doubt that you are the cause of my prosperity. His latest letter, which you brought, tells me that we are to be sole agents for opium for at least the coming season. We may expect to take a share in the profit made by every trader to Canton.”

  “We shall, sir. I have the sole disposal of all of the opium entering through Canton this year.”

  “Small wonder ye do not care about the commission on the muskets, Mr Jackson!”

  I smiled and said no more.

  A week and the hold of the lorcha was full with muskets and musketoons, all properly boxed and wrapped and dry. Their price had been kept low and I was more than satisfied with myself. Mr Ainslie was worried, however.

  “There are whispers among the Company writers, Mr Jackson. Does the name Binks, mean anything to you?”

  It did, of course, and I explained why.

  “A relative of the Earl of Shaftesbury, you say, Mr Jackson? And you forced his withdrawal from the Company’s Army? Not to speak of previously occasioning him grievous bodily harm? Tell me, young man, was this entirely wise?”

  I explained that I had found it preferable to being buggered.

  Ainslie was not convinced.

  “Weel, as you say, not the most pleasant o
f experiences, but ye mun consider just how much your finicky qualms might cost ye. It is possible to be too fastidious, ye know, mon! It would seem that the Company has some doubts about ye, Mr Jackson. Mr Arbuthnot is still your friend but there are those who wonder whether ye are quite the thing. Was I you, I would think twice before next offending the cousin of an earl. Sailing tomorrow, are ye not?”

  I was, I confirmed.

  “Perhaps a wise move. Little Sunitra has her birthday next week and hoped ye might be present to share it, but I think ye must go.”

  I had bought her a present, gave it her early that afternoon, to her tearful joy. She ordered me to come back soon to Bombay. Her father, perhaps more aware than me of her feelings, told me I was ever welcome in his house and also bade me return.

  “Only a little girl, my Sunny, but she will not always be so, Mr Jackson.”

  She would indeed grow up in a few years, I supposed. A strange concept, in some ways – the child of light and joy to become an adult. I would have to think about that.

  Before I left, I engaged in one other piece of business with Mr Ainslie.

  “Our profits in Canton, sir. We do not wish to be bringing silver back for ourselves. The bullion is needed by the traders there. We are, as you know, in the habit of placing the metal in the hands of the Company’s people in Canton and taking their Bills of Exchange which we send to London and redeem there in sterling, held in our bank accounts.”

  I could refer to ‘our’ accounts because Ainslie had given my name to his English bank and I was one of their customers, in increasingly good odour as my little fortune grew.

  “Aye, it has always been so.”

  “It places us under the Company’s direct control, sir. If they refused to write Bills in a season, we would be left in a difficulty.”

  “What do ye propose, Mr Jackson?”

  “Loans to Chinese merchant houses. I can receive as much as five and twenty percent on a twelve months loan. The triad would act as guarantor – any merchant who defaulted would feel their wrath and would end up a lot worse than bankrupt.”

  “I could borrow gold in Bombay at fifteen per cent, Mr Jackson.”

  I had not considered that possibility – there would be a good profit for the arbitrageur in the Canton market.

  We delayed sailing by a day and I boarded the lorcha followed by porters carrying twenty thousand pounds sterling in gold bars, that cargo tucked away in my sleeping cabin, safely under the bunk.

  The captain of the lorcha noted the small but heavy boxes and came to his own conclusions, keeping them to himself.

  The return to Canton was as boring as the outward voyage. The Malay pirates kept their distance from us and we never saw the Chinese.

  “They are raiding the coast towards Siam, this season, Mr Jackson. There has been some disagreement over trading matters and the Emperor has sent them off to teach the Siamese their manners.”

  “Do they ever reach as far as Burma, sir?”

  The captain shook his head. They had in the past. Those days were gone and the Emperor’s arm no longer extended so far, he admitted.

  It seemed not unlikely that the Company would wish to fill the void the Emperor had left. I did not mention that possibility – it might have been tactless. I would inform Mr Ainslie in my next letter to him.

  We docked at Whampoa and I begged audience of Mr Fong, explaining to him my intention to make loans to some of the larger Chinese merchant houses, conditional wholly upon his consent.

  Mr Fong felt he must consult with his lord. I should accompany him into the presence.

  I was kept waiting a day – to reinforce my understanding of my humble place.

  Mr Fong led into the now familiar audience chamber and I made my bows, the lord again twitching in a visible response.

  “Your cargo has been delivered and examined, Mr Jackson. It has been found good and your prices are lower than a Chinese purchaser could have commanded. You are thanked for your diligence in the lord’s service.”

  “The lord honoured me with his commands, Mr Fong. I could not do other than my best.”

  Mr Fong translated and informed me that the lord was, as previously, pleased with my correct behaviour.

  “The matter of loans, Mr Jackson. A number of our merchants find themselves short of the liquidity they require in order to trade. You are at liberty to make loans to certain of them – your shroff will be informed of whom – and the lord will make it abundantly clear to them, in person, that they will not default.”

  I bowed – that short declaration was worth two thousand sterling a year to us.

  The shroff made our first loans within the week, moving every rupee we had to hand on one year loans, renewable on negotiation at year’s end. Needless to say, the shroff confined his trading for the rest of the season to those houses who had borrowed from us, achieving favourable treatment as a natural benefit.

  I stayed in Whampoa for the whole of the trading season, it being wiser to have a man present at the port while the shroff worked out of the Factories in Canton.

  It was not the most energetic of existences. I presided over the loading of our cargoes and kept an eye on the seamen while they were ashore. Other than that, I was idle.

  The Devil finds work for idle hands, so they say. Naturally, I looked about me for something to do.

  There were still three French traders remaining in Canton, working out of their remaining colonies in India. We had recently heard of war between England and Revolutionary France, a return to the normal state of affairs – it felt right, somehow, to be at war with France. Hostilities were strictly forbidden in Canton or in the estuary or any Chinese waters, loosely interpreted by the Qing to mean any part of the South China Sea they knew about. A breach of the order might result in every gwailo trader being expelled from China for an indefinite period; it was not to be considered.

  There was no reason why clandestine endeavours should not be made to embarrass the French.

  I sat down to consider how best to annoy the Frogs, not from any great excess of patriotism, more because I was bored and at a loose end. I have often heard it said that a loose end was the downfall of many a young man.

  The largest of the French houses, Dubois et Freres, was active in silks and porcelain but, having no access to opium to import, was forced to bring in dyestuffs and an amount of copper ore to pay their way and never sufficient for all they wished to buy. Dubois was a bustling, skinny sort of fellow, forever visible on the quays and in the warehouses. I never met Freres, presumed he was based in France, looking after sales there.

  It was an open secret that Dubois was anxious to trade in greater quantities, was limited by his inability to bring in goods to pay for the silks he so desperately wanted to buy.

  I conferred with the shroff at frequent intervals, he coming upriver to Whampoa at least once a week, courteously offering the impression that I was his master, that he was making his reports to me. It was polite of him and I took great pains to show him that I realised the fact and was aware of the realities of my position.

  “Dubois, shroff, can sometimes be irritating. I am not at all sure that it is right that a Frog should be so active in our midst.”

  “He is not in our midst, Mr Jackson. He is in China. On sufferance, as are we all.”

  “Accepted, shroff, and I would never jeopardise our position here. That said, I wonder if we could not make his activities unprofitable, at the minimum. He is forever seeking more to import and is limited by the relatively small production of dyestuffs in the French colonies. They have a tiny copper mine and he sells all of its output here, can lay hands on no more.”

  The shroff agreed and looked thoughtful. He had the intention of making his fortune and then leaving Canton, I knew. He had the ambition of retiring to London, there to become a rich trader with the Orient. I was much in favour of him doing so – he was bringing on his second and third sons to take eventually his place in Canton, the eldest to accompa
ny him to London, naturally. If he was to settle in London, then he must have the goodwill of his current patrons – either Ainslie or the Company could speak the hard word to government in Whitehall and the shroff could find himself taken up as an alien of dubious provenance. He might eventually demonstrate his bona fides, but the bribes would come close to bankrupting him, as he was aware.

  If the shroff arrived in London with the message that he had been party to the destruction of French influence in Canton, he would be a welcome visitor to English shores.

  “Tin, Mr Jackson, is in desperately short supply in Canton these days, due to the loss of access to the mines on the Malay shores. The Company’s new harbour of Georgetown has taken the bulk of the ore into its control and sends it to England now. The price has risen amazingly in Canton.”

  I assumed the shroff knew that I had taken no small part in the creation of Georgetown, taking a leading role in the initial capture of the harbour and the destruction of the French garrison there. I mentioned the fact.

  “Oh, dearie me, Mr Jackson! That I had not been told! There would be some anger directed towards you if that information surfaced in Canton!”

  I wished I had kept my mouth shut – not for the last time in my busy career.

  “It does have the advantage that you are familiar with the Malay shores, Mr Jackson. Was there to be another tin mine to the north of Georgetown, not in the Company’s control, recently opened, perhaps, then Mr Dubois might be inclined to invest in a trading expedition…”

  I caught the shroff’s meaning instantly.

  “Expensive, that could be, shroff. Especially if the ship was never to return.”

  We said no more. I retired to my rooms to think over my afternoon glass of gin and water, made up to my tastes by Fred. I could have poured it myself but Fred insisted on keeping control of the gin bottle and measuring out a very thin nip of spirits in a large glass of water, with lemon and an infusion of cinchona bark added for flavour and to keep the agues away.

  He handed it to me, not allowing the Chinese maids to perform that function, always with the same words.

 

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