Cutters left the frigates, and the marines stormed ashore. The forts were taken easily and without loss, for the defenders, knowing themselves to be helpless, had wisely retreated. The marines spiked the cannon and a few stayed to occupy the forts. The rest went aboard again, and the frigates moved north a mile and poured broadside after broadside into the next forts, subduing them as easily.
Later a fleet of junks and fire ships was sent against them but the fleet was sunk.
The two frigates could decimate so many junks so easily because of superior firepower, and because their rigging and sails gave them speed to all points of the compass, whenever the wind blew. Junks could not tack as a frigate could tack, or beat to windward. Junks were designed for Chinese waters and monsoon winds, the frigates for the howling misery of the English Channel or North Sea or Atlantic where storm was commonplace and tempest a way of life.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Like potting sitting ducks,” the admiral said disgustedly.
“Aye,” Struan said. “But their losses are slight and ours negligible.”
“A decisive victory, that’s the ticket,” Longstaff said. “That’s what we want. Horatio, remind me to ask Aristotle to record today’s storming of the Bogue.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
They were on the quarterdeck of the flagship H.M.S.
Vengeance, a mile aft of the path-blazing frigates. Astern was the main body of the expeditionary force,
China Cloud in the van—May-may and the children secretly aboard.
“We’re falling behind, Admiral,” Longstaff said. “Can’t you catch up with the frigates, what?”
The admiral controlled his temper, hard put to be polite to Longstaff. Months of being held in check, months of orders and counterorders and a contemptible war had sickened him. “We’re making way nicely, sir.”
“We’re not. We’re tacking back and forth, back and forth. Complete waste of time. Send a signal to
Nemesis. She can tow us upstream.”
“Tow my flagship?” the admiral bellowed, his face and neck purple. “That sowgutted sausagemaker? Tow my 74-gun ship of the line? Tow it, did you say?”
“Yes, tow it, my dear fellow,” Longstaff said, “and we’ll be in Canton all the sooner!”
“Never, by God!”
“Then I’ll transfer my headquarters to her! Put a cutter alongside. Ridiculous, all this jealousy. A ship is a ship, sail or steam, and there’s a war to be won. You can come aboard at your convenience. I’d be glad if you’d accompany me, Dirk. Come along, Horatio.” Longstaff stamped off, exasperated by the admiral and his insane attitudes, by the feuding between the army and navy: feuding over who was in command, whose counsel was the most worthy, who had first choice of careening or barrack space on Hong Kong, and whether the war was a sea war or a land war and who had preference over whom. And he was still privately angry at that cunning little devil Culum for tricking him into signing away the Tai-Pan’s knoll—into believing that the Tai-Pan had already approved the idea—and for jeopardizing the nice relationship he had built so carefully with the dangerous Tai-Pan over so many years, molding him to his purposes.
And Longstaff was sick of trying to set up a colony, and sick of being pleaded with and railed at, trapped in the squalid competition between traders. And he was furious with the Chinese for daring to repudiate the wonderful treaty that he and he alone had magnanimously given them. Goddamme, he thought, here am I, carrying the weight of all Asia on my shoulders, making all the decisions, keeping them all from each other’s throats, fighting a war for the glory of England, saving her trade, by God, and what thanks do I get? I should have been knighted years ago! Then his wrath abated, for he knew that soon Asia would be stabilized and from the safety of the Colony of Hong Kong the threads of British power would spin out. At the dominating whim of the governor. Governors are knighted. Sir William Longstaff—now, that had a nice ring to it. And as colonial governors were commanders-in-chief of all colonial forces, lawmakers officially and by law—and the direct representatives of the queen—-then he could deal with popinjay admirals and generals arbitrarily and at leisure. The pox on every one of them, he thought, and he felt happier.
So Longstaff went aboard
Nemesis.
Struan joined him. Steamship or not, he would be first in Canton.
In five days the fleet was at anchor at Whampoa, the river behind them subdued and safe. A deputation of the Co-hong merchants, sent by the new viceroy, Ching-so, arrived immediately to negotiate. But at Struan’s suggestion the deputation was sent away unseen, and the next day the Settlement was reoccupied.
When the traders came ashore at the Settlement, all their old servants were waiting beside the front doors of their factories. It was as though the Settlement had never been left. Nothing had been touched in their absence. Nothing was missing.
The square was given over to the tents of a detachment of the military, and Longstaff made his headquarters in the factory of The Noble House. Another deputation of Co-hong merchants arrived and was again sent away as before, and laborious and elaborate preparations were openly begun to invest Canton.
By day and by night Hog Street and Thirteen Factory Street were a booming, seething mass of buying and selling and fighting and thieving. The brothels and the gin shops thrived. Many men died of drink and some had their throats cut and others simply vanished. Shopkeepers fought for space and prices rose or fell but were always as much as the market would bear.
Again a deputation sought audience with Longstaff, and again Struan dominated Longstaff and had them sent away. The ships of the line settled themselves athwart the Pearl River and the
Nemesis steamed calmly back and forth, leaving horror in her wake. But the junks and the sampans continued to ply their trade, upstream and downstream. The teas and silks of the season came down from the hinterland and overflowed the Co-hong warehouses that lined the banks of the river.
Then Jin-qua arrived, by night. In secret.
“Hola, Tai-Pan,” he said as he entered Struan’s private dining room, leaning on the arms of his personal slaves. “Good you see my. Wat for you no come see my, heya?” The slaves helped him sit, bowed and then left. The old man seemed older than ever, his skin more lined. But his eyes were young and very wise. He was wearing a long, silk gown of pale blue, and blue silk trousers and soft slippers on his tiny feet. A light silk jacket of green, padded with down, protected him from the damp and chills of the spring night. And on his head was a hat of many colors.
“Hola, Jin-qua. Mandarin Longstaff plenty mad hav got. No want this piece Tai-Pan see frien’. Ayee yah! Tea?” Struan had deliberately received him hi his shirt-sleeves, for he wanted Jin-qua to know at once that he was very angry because of Wu Fang Choi’s coin. Tea was poured and servants appeared carrying trays of delicacies that Struan had especially ordered.