Mean Sun (21 page)

Canton revealed itself through the humid haze in bits and pieces; a tower here, a ribbon of road, houses with roof tiles made of porcelain. Then the edge of a high wall appeared, along which we sailed. The wall was made of large square stones, perhaps a dozen hands high, then topped by bricks, and intermittently broken by battlements, conceived like stairs, and lofty towers. At a further distance from one to another were massive iron doors, which were spread wide open, allowing for the easy traffic of business but which at a moment’s notice could be closed, sealing the city off like a crypt. Beyond all my expectations, the wall continued along our course and extended far beyond, rising and then vanishing along the landscape only to rise again.

I glimpsed the pinnacles of large ceremonial arches behind the wall. The main roads were wider than any I had seen in my native country, and formed a sprawling grid, its leafy boulevards lined with residences with large porches, and warehouses. Boats and ships thronged the shoreline. The city was a marvel to behold.

We entered the mouth of the harbor where two magnificent stone giants, both armed with clubs, stood atop large columns sneering at our approach.

All but the small foresail gathered, Mr. Hall adroitly guided our ship through the bustling port to an extended fork of the main dock, where we drifted beside a pile and came to a rest.

Beyond the two massive, razor-toothed giants, I could see behind them a splendid triumphant arch that acted as the portal into the city. It was twice the size of any edifice I had ever seen. It was built on elaborately carved stone bases. Each stone was as tall and wide as the tallest man. On either side were two round wooden pillars as large in circumference as a circus ring, painted in glistening black lacquer. Yet another structure rose on their
shoulders, above ten yards high. It was arched on all sides and its intricate timbers were adorned with red and green lacquer. A roof of deep green porcelain tiles crowned it all. On all its sloping corners were the up-thrust heads of dragons, craning toward the blue sky. A large, carved golden medallion hung from chains at the very center of the arch.

Through this open vein poured the life of the city—clattering wagons and carts, stampeding soldiers, laborers and sailors.

I did not take notice of their approach, but before we had cinched our lines a group of armed soldiers took places along the length of our ship, all in handsome uniforms and gleaming helmets. An officer stepped forward before any of us could utter a word and swung himself aboard the vessel. Shouting like a mad man, he summoned six of his cohort aboard and directed them to search the ship. The men rudely pushed past, while the officer paced along the deck, tapping the sharp end of his sword against the flat palm of his hand, and demanding, in Chinese, some explanation from Lord Douglas, who was the first to approach him.

Wen Xi cut the exchange short, however, by grandly striding over and in a high-pitched tone confronting the man. Their conversation was warm and simmered for some minutes. Wen Xi met the officer’s pugnacious cadences with withering scorn. The officer’s face fell and his arrogance suddenly came to heel.

His men now returned, one by one, and delivered their inspection report. There was a slight commotion in his aspect as one of them pointed to the cabin, where Mr. Brooks lie.

Wen Xi followed the officer to the boarding ramp, which Mr. Rollins had only just set in place. Bowing low and supinely, the officer plaintively held up his hands as Wen Xi attempted to disembark. Leaving all but two of his men, on stout, bowed legs, the officer made off down the dock at so rapid a clip that the boards sang out beneath his feet. He disappeared through the arch.

“Foolish man!” exclaimed Wen Xi. “We wait.”

The heat of the day rose and we all took refuge in the dodging shadows as they crept across the deck. Wen Xi stubbornly sat at the prow with an eye out for the officer’s return. No one, including
Lord Douglas, desired a stay in the cool cabin beside the corpse of Mr. Brooks.

Recalling the reaction of the officer when one of his men pointed to the cabin, my thoughts turned to what Lord Douglas would do with the body. Would a wagon be sent? Where would he be stored? Or would he simply lie in state aboard the ship until a decision could be reached?

However plainly I viewed his options, Lord Douglas’ own mind was in wheeling turmoil. After a day of grim silence, he took a brooding turn about the deck and returned purposefully to Mr. Jacobs.

“How long does the voyage take from here to England?” he asked.

“Months, sir,” replied Jacobs. “No telling when a ship might come.” He read Lord Douglas’ pensive expression. “We could bury him at sea, my lord.”

Lord Douglas had darkly pondered the thought already.

“In a river, thousands of miles from home?”

“We might plant Mr. Brooks here.”

“In foreign soil? It must be English soil,” his voice trailed vaguely off then tacked back to Mr. Jacobs again. “What do you think he would have wanted?”

He asked the question lightly, but with an undercurrent of desperation.

“I cannot know, sir,” replied Jacobs. “I did not know the man well.”

“In any event, I must have a coffin built,” said Lord Douglas.

“That would be the first step, Lord Douglas. It would indeed, sir.”

Lord Douglas turned and glared impatiently down the dock.

“Where is that officer?” He turned back, sightlessly surveying the harbor. “We’re all penniless for the moment, but once we’re announced…” His voice trailed off. “He’ll be safe here, do you think?”

“I doubt anyone would disturb him, sir,” answered Jacobs. “Chinese are afraid of dead men. Spirits of the ancestors and all that.”

“Perhaps one of these soldiers can be left to guard him.”

“That would be a proper request, I think, my lord.”

“I simply wish to do what’s right by him.”

“I believe you will, sir,” responded Jacobs kindly.

Greyson nodded toward the cabin. “We’ll bolt the door shut.”

“Aye, sir.”

The heat was oppressive, stirring up a green porridge of humid air. The busy machinery of war continued to nearly sunset, when there was a gradual lull in the activity. It was only then that I observed the jaunty stride of the officer advancing along the dock toward us. He was accompanied by a larger contingent of men and another officer apparently more highly ranked, judging by the splendor of his uniform. The group halted beside our junk and Wen Xi stepped forward and spoke in the same impatient tone she had earlier. The second officer motioned to someone in the group, a gentleman in common attire, who stepped forward obediently and carefully observed Wen Xi, then spoke to her in reverent tones. When he seemed certain who she was, the man scraped a deep bow and chattered to the ranking officer, who proffered his own bow to Wen Xi.

After a few minutes more of discussion, Wen Xi strode over to Greyson, Jacobs and myself.

“They take you men to shelter,” she said. “All is well. You will be cared for.”

“Will they leave a man to guard the junk?” asked Greyson.

Wen Xi translated the request.

“Yes,” she said. “Soldier will guard boat.”

A rickshaw was summoned and Wen Xi was swiftly carried away, followed by the contingent of soldiers. With polite smiles and assorted gesticulations, the junior officer bid us follow him into the city.

With him as an escort, we passed the sharp-toothed guardians and entered the city of Canton. The avenue was wide and
paved in stone. Shops and houses lined the street on both sides. Many of the homes were several stories high, with grand, low-hanging balconies and porches at the street level. The place was teeming with people, all of whom stared incredulously at the parade of grimy white men, solemnly following their guide.

We scurried in and out of innumerable side streets, which were cooled by the shadows of the tall buildings. The city was an unending curiosity of exotic wares and strange sights.

“Don’t know how we’d pilot back to the ship,” remarked Mr. Jacobs at one point. “Good and lost, I am.”

“Aye,” added Rollins. “These heathens could murder us and sell the meat.”

We passed a large, impressive building with soaring turrets at each of its four corners.

“What is that?” said Woodman, marveling.

“A mosque,” replied Jacobs. “Seen one in Egypt once, just like it.”

Finally we approached a modest two-story building. There was a sign above the door, written in Chinese and decorated with blue dragons. The officer entered and we followed him through the doors, past a gaudy curtain, and into a courtyard that was shaded by a splendid cypress tree that must have stood seventy-five feet tall, with a canopy that spread out beyond courtyard. Beneath it, two women and an old man were waiting. The courtyard was bordered by darkened hallways, which led to sleeping quarters. My impression was that it was not a formal lodging but an ancient barracks of some type, for much of the decorations on the open doors were of a military nature.

The old man wiped a trickle of perspiration from his face and addressed the officer, who handed him a small silk purse that had the rattle of coins in it.

“I believe, gentlemen,” remarked Lord Douglas, “that this is our new home.”

The rooms within were sparsely furnished but large and might have accommodated thirty men. Lord Douglas was given a separate room across the hallway, which I suspected had been re
served for an officer or gentleman; it was more lavishly appointed and featured a handsome, shuttered door that led directly out into the courtyard.

Four tubs of hot water for bathing were set up for us in an adjoining compartment. We bathed, then dined that evening beneath the cypress tree amid flickering candles. My fellows made a show of sniffing at the strange meat on their plates and the unfamiliar greens, but ate heartily. That night was the first night I had slept in a bed in many months.

Chapter 18

Our New Interpreter

In the morning, while most of us were scrubbing out our clothes, Mr. Rollin returned from a dawn inspection of the city.

“I’ve found the route back to the harbor and the ship,” he boasted. “East by northeast. Nigh every street leads to it. Made my way back by sighting this tree, which can be seen a league away.”

“Any sign of the
Sovereign
?” asked Woodman.

“None at all,” replied Mr. Rollin. “And I reconnoitered a mile in each direction. Not a European ship at anchor.”

“We’ll just have to hope she made it,” said Mr. Jacobs. “I expect a day or two will tell.”

I happily idled away the morning by setting off to explore the precincts of Canton. I strolled for hours, keeping mainly to the central avenues. The city was awash with commerce; shops, market places and street venders peddled every imaginable article amid great clamor.

Green, writhing turtles were in rich abundance, as were poultry of every sort, fish, and butchered meat from a stock that bore no resemblance to any animal I could name. In addition to these, there was a thriving market for lizards and monkeys. The proprietors keep the swarms of flies at bay by languidly brushing at them with palm leaves.

The pageant of the citizens of Canton was not less captivating than the markets. Most were poor; of these a prodigious number labored under some infirmity, either crippled with age or lame. The women were hard-faced and wary. Every man had a shaved head and pigtail like those on the heads of the ones I had seen in Amoy. I reasoned that the able-bodied men had been pressed into the Emperor’s army, leaving grandfathers, women and children to sustain themselves. The rich—mostly Manchu, I learned later—traveled with escorts or were carried about in carts.

Soldiers were ever present, slouching in the shadows beside the ancient buildings or standing beneath a shade tree, watchful of the passing crowds.

I reached a crossing where several of the avenues converged that was marked by a tidy row of trees, behind which was a high wall. I walked along the wall, peering past guards who guarded the entrances into a vast courtyard and caught sight of a splendid palace within. It was then by chance that I glimpsed the second officer we met on the previous day as he came charging out through a gate on horseback in a cloud of dust. He paused for just an instant when he saw me standing there, then rode off. Though I saw no sign of her, I knew this glorious estate was where Wen Xi had been taken.

I returned to the barracks shortly after to find Lord Douglas sitting on a bench beneath the cypress tree, bent over a collection of sketches of a coffin that he had spent the morning making on rice paper. It appeared he had been waiting for someone to pass, for he waved me over and gestured to them.

“I’ve hired a local carpenter,” said he. “What do you think?”

He had clearly anguished over each trifling detail, including the selection of woods, its thickness, and the fabric to line its interior. Mr. Brooks’ initials were to be carved on the lid. The latches were to be made of plain polished bronze, six in all, to be placed a precisely measured distance apart.

I made a show of studying the design, and pointing to the latches made complementary remarks. He brandished still more of the sketches, which detailed the lid of the coffin more closely.