And I canna get any into yours, Willie, Struan thought. If Robb’s bought the opium, we’re deeper in the mess. If he has na bought, we’re still finished. Unless a trade—one cursed mandarin for one cursed million.
“I don’t know what I’d do without your father’s advice, Culum.” Longstaff took snuff from a jeweled snuff box. Damme, he thought, I’m a diplomat, not a warmonger. Governor of Hong Kong is just the ticket. Once governor of Hong Kong, then something worthwhile. Bengal, perhaps. Jamaica . . . now, there’s a good place. Canada? No, too damned cold. Bengal or another of the Indian states. “It’s very complicated in Asia, Culum. Have to deal with so many different views and interests—the Crown’s, the traders’, the missionaries’, the Royal Navy’s, the Army’s and the Chinese—all in conflict. And, damme, the Chinese are splintered into conflicting groups. The merchants, the mandarins and the Manchu overlords.” He filled both nostrils with snuff, sniffed deeply and sneezed. “I suppose you know the rulers of China aren’t Chinese?”
“No, sir.”
“Half the damned trouble, so we’re told. They’re Manchus. From Manchuria. Wild barbarians from north of the Great Wall. They’ve ruled China for two hundred years, so we’re told. They must think we’re fools. We’re told there’s a huge wall—like Hadrian’s Wall—a fortification all across the north of China to protect it from the wild tribes. It’s supposed to be over three and a half thousand miles long, forty feet high and thirty feet thick, and wide enough at the top for eight horsemen to ride abreast. There are supposed to be watchtowers every three hundred yards. It’s made of brick and granite, and it was built two thousand years ago.” He snorted. “Ridiculous!”
“I believe it exists,” Struan said.
“Come now, Dirk,” Longstaff said. “It was impossible to build such a fortification two thousand years ago.”
“The legend, Culum, is that every third man in China was conscripted to work on the wall. It was built in ten years. They say a million men died and are buried in the wall. Their spirits guard it, too.”
Culum grinned. “If it’s so huge, Father, the Manchus could never have breached it. It can’t possibly exist.”
“The legend is that the Manchus broke through the wall by deceit. The Chinese general in charge of the wall sold out his own people.”
“That’s more than likely,” Longstaff said disgustedly. “No sense of honor, these Orientals, what? The general thought he could usurp the throne by using the enemy. But the Manchus used them, then destroyed him. In any event, that’s the story.”
Culum said, “Quite a story, sir.”
Struan’s eyes hardened. “You’d better get used to many strange stories. And a new thought, Culum—the Chinese have had civilization for five thousand years. Books, printing presses, art, poets, government, silk, tea, gunpowder and a thousand other things. For thousands of years. We’ve been civilized for five hundred years. If you can call it that.”
There was a knock on the door. Horatio hurried in. “You wanted me, Your Excellency?”
“Yes. I want you to translate this immediately into Chinese, and send it off by special courier. And send a copy to Mr. Skinner for publication.”
“Yes, sir.” Horatio took the paper and turned to Struan. “I was so sorry to hear the terrible news, Mr. Struan.”
“Thank you. This is my son Culum. Horatio Sinclair.”
They shook hands, liking each other instantly.
Horatio read the letter. “It will take me a little time to put it in the right court phrases, sir.”
“His Excellency wants it sent exactly like that,” Struan said. “Exactly.”
Horatio’s mouth dropped open. He nodded feebly. “Yes, I’ll, er, do it at once. But Ti-sen will never accept it, Mr. Struan. Never, Your Excellency. He would lose too much face.”
Longstaff bristled. “Face? I’ll show that devious heathen some face, by God. Give the admiral my compliments and ask him to send the letter by a capital ship of the line to Whampoa, with orders to proceed immediately to Canton if it’s not accepted forthwith!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Won’t accept it, indeed!” Longstaff said after Horatio had gone. “Damned insolence. They’re all heathen barbarians. All of them. Chinese. Manchus. They’ve no justice, and their contempt for human life is unbelievable. They sell their daughters, sisters, brothers. Unbelievable.”
Culum suddenly thought of his mother and brothers, and how they died. The watery vomit and stools, and the stench and cramps and agony and sunken eyes and spasms. And the convulsions and more stench and then gasping death. And after death the sudden muscle spasms and his mother, dead an hour but suddenly twisting on the bed, dead eyes open, dead mouth open.
The old fear began to sicken him, and he groped for something to think about, anything to make him forget his terror. “About the land sale, sir. First the land should be surveyed. Who’s to do this, sir?”
“We’ll get someone, don’t worry.”
“Perhaps Glessing,” Struan said. “He’s had charting experience.”
“Good idea. I’ll talk to the admiral. Excellent.”
“You might consider naming the beach where the flag was raised ‘Glessing’s Point.’ “
Longstaff was astonished. “I’ll never understand you. Why go out of your way to perpetuate the name of a man who hates you?”
Because good enemies are valuable, Struan thought. And I’ve a use for Glessing. He’ll die to protect Glessing’s Point, and that means Hong Kong.
“It would please the navy,” Struan said. “Just an idea.”
“It’s a good idea. I’m glad you suggested it.”
“Well, I think we’ll get back aboard our ship,” Struan said. He was tired. And there was still much to do.
Isaac Perry was on the quarterdeck of
Thunder Cloud, watching the marines search under tarpaulins and in the longboats and sail locker. He hated marines and naval officers; once he had been pressed into the navy. “There’re no deserters aboard,” he said again.
“Of course,” the young officer said.
“Please order your men not to make such a mess. It’ll take a whole watch to clean up after them.”
“Your ship’ll make a nice prize, Captain Perry. The ship and the cargo,” the officer sneered.
Perry glared at McKay who was by the gangplank, under armed guard. You’re a dead man, McKay, Perry thought, if you’ve helped Ramsey aboard.
“Longboat on the aft gangway,” the third mate called out. “Owner’s coming aboard.”
Perry hurried to meet Struan.
“They think we’ve a deserter aboard, sir.”
“I know,” Struan said as he came on deck. “Why is my bosun under guard?” he asked the arrogant young officer, a dangerous rasp to his voice.
“Just a precaution. He’s a relation of Ramsey and—”
“A pox on precautions! He’s innocent until proven guilty, by God,” Struan roared. “You’re here to search, not to harass and arrest my men.”
“I knowed nothin’, sorr,” McKay burst out. “Ramsey’s not aboard by my doin’. He ain’t. He ain’t.”
“God help you if he is,” Struan said. “You’re confined to the ship until I order otherwise. Get below!”
“Yes, sorr,” McKay said, and fled.
“God’s blood, Isaac!” Struan raged on. “You’re supposed to be captain of this ship. What law says the navy can arrest a man without a warrant as a precaution?”