Tai-Pan (13 page)

“I don’t know, sir. I don’t know the complications that existed.”

“Well said. ‘Complications’ is a good word.” Longstaff chuckled. “Would you care to join us, Captain? A glass of sack?”

“Thank you, sir, but I’d better get back to my ship.” Glessing saluted smartly and walked away.

Longstaff motioned the Struans into the conference room which presently served as the private quarters of the Captain Superintendent of Trade. It was spartan and functional, and the deep leather chairs and chart tables, chests of drawers and heavy oak table were all fastened tightly to the deck. The richly carved oak desk was backed by the semicircle of mullioned windows of the stern. The cabin smelled of tar and stale tobacco and sea and, inevitably, gunpowder.

“Steward!” Longstaff called out.

At once the cabin door opened. “Yussir?”

Longstaff turned to Struan. “Sack? Brandy? Port?”

“Dry sack, thank you.”

“The same, please, sir,” Culum said.

“I’ll have port.” Longstaff yawned again.

“Yussir.” The steward took the bottles from a sideboard and poured the wines into fine crystal glasses.

“Is this your first trip aboard, Culum?” Longstaff asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“But I suppose you’re well up-to-date on our recent ‘complications’?”

“No, Your Excellency. Father didn’t write very much, and China isn’t mentioned in the newspapers.”

“But it soon will be, eh, Dirk?”

The steward offered the glasses to Longstaff, and then to his guests.

“See that we’re not disturbed.”

“Yussir.” The steward left the bottles within easy reach and went out.

“A toast,” Longstaff said, and Struan remembered Robb’s toast and regretted that he had come first to the flagship. “To a pleasant stay, Culum, and to a safe journey home.”

They drank. The dry sack was excellent.

“History’s being made out here, Culum. And there’s no one better equipped to tell you about it than your father.”

“There’s an old Chinese saying, Culum: ‘Truth wears many faces,’ ” Struan said.

“I don’t understand.”

“Just that my version of ‘facts’ is na necessarily the only one.” This reminded him of the previous viceroy, Ling, now in disgrace in Canton, because his policies had precipitated the open conflict with Britain, and presently under a death sentence. “Is that devil Ling still in Canton?”

“I think so. His Excellency Ti-sen smiled when I asked him three days ago and said cryptically, ‘The Vermilion is the Son of Heaven. How can man know what Heaven wills?’ The Chinese emperor is called the Son of Heaven,’” Longstaff elaborated for Culum’s sake. “ ‘The Vermilion’ is another of his names because he always writes in vermilion-colored ink.”

“Strange, strange people, the Chinese, Culum,” Struan said. “For instance; only the emperor among three hundred millions is allowed to use vermilion ink. Imagine that. If Queen Victoria said, ‘From now on, only I am allowed to use vermilion,’ as much as we love her, forty thousand Britons would instantly forswear all ink but vermilion. I would mysel’.”

“And every China trader,” Longstaff said with an unconscious sneer, “would instantly send her a barrel of the color, cash on delivery, and tell Her Britannic Majesty they’d be glad to supply the Crown, at a price. And they’d write the letter in vermilion. Rightly so, I suppose. Where would we be without trade?”

There was a small silence and Culum wondered why his father had let the insult pass. Or was it an insult? Wasn’t it just another fact of life—that aristos always sneered at anyone who was not an aristo? Well, the Charter would solve aristos once and for all.

“You wanted to see me, Will?” Struan felt deathly tired. His foot ached, and so did his shoulders.

“Yes. A few minor things have happened since . . . in the last two days. Culum, would you excuse us for a moment? I want to talk to your father alone.”

“Certainly, sir.” Culum got up.

“No need for that, Will,” Struan said. But for Longstaff’s sneer he would have let Culum go. “Culum’s a partner in Struan’s now. One day he’ll rule it as Tai-Pan. You can trust him as you’d trust me.”

Culum wanted to say, “I’ll never be part of this, never. I’ve other plans.” But he could say nothing.

“I must congratulate you, Culum,” Longstaff said. “To be a partner in The Noble House—well, that’s a prize beyond price.”

Na when you’re bankrupt, Struan almost added, “Sit down, Culum.”

Longstaff paced the room, and began: “A meeting with the Chinese Plenipotentiary is arranged for tomorrow to discuss the treaty details.”

“Did he suggest the time and the place, or did you?”

“He did.”

“Perhaps you’d better change it. Pick another place and another time.”

“Why?”

“Because if you agree to his suggestion, he and all the mandarins will interpret it as weakness.”

“All right. If you think so. The day after tomorrow, what? At Canton?”

“Yes. Take Horatio and Mauss. I’ll come with you if you like, and we must be four hours late.”

“But damme, Dirk, why go to such ridiculous extremes? Four hours? ’Pon me word!”

“It’s not ridiculous. By acting like a superior to an inferior, you put them at a disadvantage.” Struan glanced at Culum. “You have to play the Oriental game by Oriental rules. Little things become very important. His Excellency has a very difficult position here. One little mistake now, and the result will last fifty years. He has to make haste with extreme caution.”

“Yes. And no damned help!” Longstaff drained his glass and poured another. “Why the devil they can’t act like civilized people I’ll never know. Never. Apart from your father there’s no one who helps. The Cabinet at home doesn’t know the problems I’m facing and doesn’t care. I’m completely on my own here. They give me impossible instructions and expect me to deal with an impossible people. ’Pon me word, we have to be late four hours to prove we’re ‘superior’ when of course everyone knows we’re superior!” He took some snuff irritably, and sneezed.

“When are you holding a land sale, Will?”

“Well, er, I thought when the Cabinet approves the treaty. There’s plenty of time. Say in September.”

“Do you na remember your idea? I thought you wanted to start building in Hong Kong immediately.”

Longstaff tried to recollect. He seemed to remember talking about it to Struan. What was it? “Well, of course, the ceding of Hong Kong isn’t official until both governments approve the treaty—I mean, that’s usual, isn’t it, what?”

“Yes. But these are na usual circumstances.” Struan toyed with his glass. “Hong Kong’s ours. The sooner we start building the better, is that na what you said?”

“Well, of course it’s ours.” What 
was
 that plan? Longstaff stifled another yawn.

“You said that all land was to belong to the queen. That until you were officially the first governor of Hong Kong, all government was to be in your hands as plenipotentiary. If you issue a special proclamation, then everything is as you planned. If I were you, I’d hold a land sale next month. Dinna forgot, Will, that you’ll need revenue for the colony. The Cabinet is sensitive about colonies that dinna pay for themselves.”

“Correct. Yes. Absolutely right. Of course. We should begin as soon as possible. We’ll hold the first land sale next month. Let me see. Should it be freehold or on lease, or what?”

“Nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine-year leases. The usual Crown agreements.”

“Excellent.” Longstaff made a helpless gesture. “As if we haven’t enough to worry about, Culum! Now we have to act like damned tradesmen. How the devil do you go about building a colony, what? Got to have sewers and streets and buildings and God knows what else. A court and a prison, by Jove!” He paused in front of Culum. “Have you any legal training?”

“No, Your Excellency,” Culum said. “Just half a university degree in the arts.”

“No matter. I’ll have to have a colonial secretary, an adjutant general, treasurer and God knows what else. There’ll have to be a police force of some kind. Would you like to be in charge of the police?”

“No, thank you, sir.” Culum tried not to show the shock he felt.

“Well, I’m sure there’s some place we can use you. Everyone’ll have to pitch in. I can’t take care of everything. Think about what you’d like to do and let me know. We’ll need people we can trust.”

“Why not put him on your staff as a deputy?” Struan said. “We’ll lend him to you for six months.”

“Excellent.” Longstaff smiled at Culum. “Good. You’re deputy colonial secretary. Let’s see. Make arrangements for the land sale. That’s your first job.”

“But I don’t know anything about land sales, sir. I don’t know anything about—”

“You know as much as anyone, and your father can guide you. You’ll be, er, deputy colonial secretary. Excellent. Now I can forget that problem. You find out what should be done and how, and let me know what’s necessary to make it official. Have an auction. That’s the fair way, I imagine.” Longstaff refilled his glass. “Oh, by the way, Dirk, I ordered the evacuation of Chushan Island.”

Struan felt his stomach turn over. “Why did you do that, Will?”

“I received a special letter from His Excellency Ti-sen two days ago asking that this be done as an act of good faith.”

“You could have waited.”

“He wanted an immediate answer, and there was, well—no way to reach you.”

“Immediate, Chinese style, means anything up to a century.” Oh Willie, you poor fool, he thought, how many times do I have to explain?

Longstaff felt Struan’s eyes grinding into him. “He was sending off a copy of the treaty to the emperor, and wanted to include the fact that we’d ordered the evacuation. We were going to hand it back anyway, what? That was the plan. Damme, what difference does it make, now or later?”

“Timing is very important to the Chinese. Has the order gone yet?”

“Yes. It went yesterday. Ti-sen was kind enough to offer us the use of the imperial horse relay. I sent the order by that.”

Damn your eyes, Struan thought. You impossible fool. “Very bad to use their service for our orders. We’ve lost face and they’ve gained a point. Nae use in sending a ship now.” His voice was cold and hard. “By the time it got to Chushan the evacuation’d be completed. Well, it’s done, and that’s that. But it was unwise. The Chinese will only interpret it as weakness.”

“I thought the act of good faith a splendid idea, splendid,” Longstaff went on, trying to overcome his nervousness. “After all, we’ve everything we want. Their indemnity is light—only six million dollars, and that more than covers the cost of the opium they destroyed. Canton is open to trade again. And we have Hong Kong. At long last.” His eyes were sparkling now. “Everything according to plan. Chushan Island’s unimportant. You said to take it only as an expedient. But Hong Kong’s ours. And Ti-sen said he’d appoint a mandarin for Hong Kong within the month and they’ll—”

“He’ll what?” Struan was aghast.

“He’ll appoint a mandarin for Hong Kong. What’s the matter?”

Hang on to your temper, Struan warned himself with a mighty effort. You’ve been patient all this time. This weak-brained incompetent’s the most necessary tool you have. “Will, if you allow him to do that, you’re giving him power over Hong Kong.”

“Not at all, my dear, fellow, what? Hong Kong’s British. The heathen’ll be under our flag and under our Government. Someone’s got to be in charge of the devils, what? There’s got to be someone to pay the customs dues to. Where better than Hong Kong? They’ll have their own customshouse and buildings and—”

“They’ll what?” the word slammed off the oak bulkheads. “God’s blood, you haven’t agreed to this, I hope?”

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong in it, Dirk, eh? ’Pon me word, it doesn’t change anything, does it? It saves us a lot of trouble. We don’t have to be in Canton. We can do everything from here.”

To stop himself from crushing Longstaff like a bedbug, Struan walked over to the bureau and poured himself a brandy. Hold on. Dinna wreck him now. The timing’s wrong. You’ve got to use him. “Have you agreed with Ti-sen that he 
can
 appoint a mandarin for Hong Kong?”

“Well, my dear fellow, I didn’t exactly agree. It’s not part of the treaty. I just said I agreed it seemed a good idea.”

“Did you do this in writing?”

“Yes. Yesterday.” Longstaff was bewildered by Struan’s intensity. “But isn’t that what we’ve been trying to do for so long? To deal direct with the mandarins and not through the Chinese hong merchants?”

“Aye. But not on our island, by God!” Struan kept his voice level, but he was thinking. You godrotting apology for a leader, you stupid aristocratic indecisive wrong-decisioned dungheap. “If we allow that, we sink Hong Kong. We lose everything.”

Longstaff tugged at the lobe of his ear, wilting under Struan’s eyes.

“Why, Father?” Culum asked.

To Longstaff’s relief, the eyes turned to Culum and he thought, Yes, why? Why do we lose everything, eh? I thought it a simply marvelous arrangement.

“Because they’re Chinese.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know, laddie.” To put away the grief of the loss of his family that suddenly welled up inside him and to take his mind off his frantic worry over the loss of their wealth, he decided to explain—as much for Longstaff as for Culum. “First thing to understand: For fifty centuries the Chinese have called China the Middle Kingdom—the land that the gods have placed between heaven 
above
 and the earth 
beneath.
 By definition a Chinese is a uniquely superior being. They all believe that anyone else—anyone—is a barbarian and of no account. And that they alone have the God-given right, as the only really civilized nation, to rule the earth. As far as they’re concerned, Queen Victoria is a barbarian vassal who should pay tribute. China has nae fleet, nae army, and we can do what we like with her—but they 
believe
 they are the most civilized, the most powerful, the richest—in this I think they’re potentially right—nation on earth. Do you know about the Eight Regulations?”

Culum shook his head.

“Well, these were the terms under which the Emperor of China agreed to trade with ‘barbarians’ a hundred and fifty years ago. The Regulations confined all ‘barbarian’ trade to the single port of Canton. All tea and silk had to be paid for in silver, nae credit whatsoever allowed, and smuggling was forbidden. ‘Barbarians’ were allowed to build warehouses and factories on a plot of land half a mile by two hundred yards at Canton; ‘barbarians’ were totally confined to this walled-in area—the Canton Settlement—and could stay only for the winter shipping season—September until March—when they must leave and go to Macao. Nae ‘barbarian’ families were allowed in the Settlement under any circumstances and all women forbidden. Nae arms whatsoever in the Settlement. Learning Chinese, boating for pleasure, sedan chairs, and mixing with Chinese were forbidden; ‘barbarian’ warships were forbidden the Pearl River estuary. All ‘barbarian’ merchant ships were to anchor at Whampoa, thirteen miles downstream, where cargoes were to be transshipped and export customs tax paid in silver. All ‘barbarian’ business was to be conducted solely through a monopoly, a guild, of ten Chinese merchants which we call the Co-hong. The Co-hong were also the sole suppliers of food, the sole licensor of a set number of servants and boatmen and compradores. And finally, the one regulation that nailed us to the Cross —and the one the treaty cancels—specified that the Co-hong were the only recipients of all ‘barbarian’ petitions, requests and complaints, which would then, and solely by them, be forwarded to the mandarins.