Mandarin-Gold (27 page)

'I, therefore, fully understand the interest of our compatriots in sustaining the opium trade here. But theirs is a short-sighted view. When, we can open the whole of China to legitimate trade and British and American enterprise — what a glorious prospect that would be not only for our countries, but for the Chinese themselves! Is not
that
aim deserving of some temporary unpopularity among the merchant classes?'

'I entirely agree,' replied Mackereth, moved by Elliot's obvious sincerity.

'I am glad that you do,' said Elliot, and rang a bell for his orderly.

'Have a fast gig prepared to take me to the factory immediately. And lay out my best uniform. As the Sovereign's only representative here I must not disgrace that honour.'

When Elliot's gig approached Canton, past the merchant ships anchored in the river, he scanned the shore for any sign of activity. As he lowered his glass, he heard the boom of a gun behind him. Flocks of starlings flew out from pagoda roofs. He turned in the direction of the noise and the gun boomed a second time. He saw that the orange flame flashed from a British-merchant ship.

'Turn about,' he ordered the captain. 'Pull alongside that ship.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

The gig approached the merchantman, which was anchored fore and aft against the outgoing tide. A rope ladder hung down on the starboard side. Elliot jumped on the bottom rung and climbed up on deck. As he did so, another gun fired, and the whole ship trembled and creaked with the recoil. He heard laughter beyond the main cabins, and ran across an un-scrubbed deck littered with uncoiled ropes that smelled of seaweed.

On the port side, facing Canton, half a dozen British officers lolled in cane chairs smoking cheroots, glasses of whisky let into the arms of their chairs. Two Lascars, stripped to the waist, long hair bound with tarred string, were sponging out the barrel of a cannon.

'What the devil's going on" here?' asked Elliot.

None of the officers had seen him, and three now stood up in surprise, while the others leaned forward in their chairs, regarding him with a mixture of anger and contempt.

'Where's the captain?'

'Here. I am the captain,' replied the nearest officer, a burly man in his late forties, uniform jacket undone, armpits dark with sweat. He held a beaker- of whisky in his right hand. 'What are you doing aboard my vessel?'

'By right of my rank. As Superintendent of Trade, I am in charge of all British ships in the Bogue. What target are you firing at?'

'Because I wanted to. And because it's the Sovereign's birthday, and I had a bet here with the First Officer we could reach the vessel with half charge.'

'We bloody didn't though,' chortled one of the others from the chairs. 'We've fired nine cannon balls and all have fallen short. So that's twenty pounds you owe me.'

'You idiot!' shouted Elliot. 'Do you realize what your lunacy can lead us into?'

'I don't like the tone of your voice, sir,' said the captain coldly, putting' his beaker down on a chair. 'Get off my ship or I'll throw you off.'

He took a step nearer to Elliot, his pig-eyes narrow as half-healed cuts.

'If I have any more insolence from you,' replied Elliot coldly, 'I will have you clapped in irons on board your own ship, and the lot of you flogged and dismissed the service.'

'You haven't the power,' said the captain, but his fist went down; the heat was out of his voice.

'One more word from you, sir, and you will witness the power I have. In your drunken state you probably cannot appreciate the delicacy of the situation in Canton. A new Chinese Commissioner has just threatened to withdraw the privilege of trade from our compatriots
for ever.

'Do you think that your idiotic behaviour of discharging nine cannon balls at a defenceless Chinese vessel, right under his eyes, is going to influence him in our favour? If he stops our trade, not only will the Company be brought to ruin, but I personally will see that none of you ever serve in any position of command in any British vessel.'

'My God,' said the captain, suddenly sobering, and seeing the gold braid on Elliot's uniform. The sun had been in his eyes, and whisky had fuddled his brain.

'Well may you call upon your Maker. What is your name?'

'Captain Bartram, sir. Commanding the
Sunflower
out of Calcutta.'

'I'll give you your orders, Captain Bartram. Set sail now. If you are not under way by the time I reach Canton, I will send
Andromache
after you to arrest your vessel, and all of you aboard her.'

White with fury, Elliot turned and walked across the deck, and climbed down the rope ladder to the gig. How incredible that anyone of his race who could reach the rank of captain in a Company ship, would be so lacking in common sense as to behave in this boorish manner! He would explain that the shots were not intended to harm or alarm, but would Lin believe this explanation? Would anyone, in these circumstances?

As soon as the gig touched the quay Elliot jumped ashore and went into the British factory as quickly as he could without running. The money-changers, or schroffs, squatted by their scales and weights and piles of coins. Some wore small sets of scales at their belts; they were always eager for business — and in their own money-changing shops, for Canton had no banks, they even sold the privilege of lifting the floors once a year. This gave the buyer the right to rummage for any loose coins or silver scrapings that had dropped between the tiles in the previous twelve months.

The manager sat writing with a quill pen at a desk in front of the granite treasury where the factory's money was stored. He stood up when he saw Elliot.

'Be so good as to send for the senior Hong merchant immediately,' Elliot told him.

The manager nodded, went out and returned in half an hour with the spokesman for the Hong merchants. No-one knew his real name, but the nearest anyone got to pronouncing it was to call him Mow. Because of his rank, a gutteral sound, Qua, was added, like Esquire; so he was always called Mowqua. Now he stood, trembling with fear. His usually bland soft face had sunk in on itself as though the skin had been originally intended for another man with a bigger skull altogether. His lips kept blowing and he stood in front of Elliot, washing his long-nailed hands without water.

'Can you interpret?' Elliot asked the manager.

'Yes, sir. If he does not speak too quickly.'

'Well, then, tell him that the nine shots he has heard are nothing serious. They were not intended in any way to aggravate Commissioner Lin. A foolish drunken man aboard one of the ships was firing them as a form of salute. He has been reprimanded.'

The manager translated. The Mowqua said something in reply.

'Commissioner Lin has already sought his advice about the firing,' the manager explained. 'He made up some similar story to him, but the Commissioner Lin would not believe it. Accordingly, thinking that the firing has some hostile purpose, Lin has ordered all opium to be surrendered by
tonight.

'In the meantime, at dusk, every coolie and other labourer will be withdrawn forthwith from the docks. No provisions will be allowed for us in the factory, and. no shopkeeper can trade with us under penalty of death.'

This was worse than Elliot had anticipated.

'Can
I
see Commissioner Lin?' he asked.

More conversation in Cantonese, heads laid on one side, hands turned, palms upwards, to heaven.

'That is impossible,' the manager translated. 'He wants all the opium surrendered before
anyone
has an audience with him. And even then we will still have to use the Hong merchants as intermediaries. There will be no direct contact.'

‘There can be no compensation at present, if at all. The owners know full well that this is an illegal trade. And we cannot have our legal dealings jeopardized by their selfish and illegal actions. We must have as many chests as you can find quickly to give to him, if we have to. This token of goodwill, an earnest of future co-operation, may soften his attitude. Are any officers from Whampoa here?'

'Commissioner Lin has also ordered New China Street to be barricaded with wooden bars, and they are stationing police across it. Other police will stop anyone entering Old China Street, and all other streets behind the factory are being bricked up now, as we speak. In addition, sir, Chinese troops have commandeered the tea boats and the chop-boats and are anchoring in the river to watch us. By evening, Lin says he will have five hundred men with sticks and spears surrounding the factories to stop anyone leaving or supplying us with food.'

'All the more reason for you to make haste,' said Elliot. 'How many chests do you think you can give the Commissioner?'

'Difficult to say, sir, without checking. But I would think a very large number — perhaps, twenty or thirty thousand.'

At five hundred dollars a case this-would be worth at least two or three million pounds sterling; this was a fortune to put at risk. Elliot had not imagined the stock would be so large at that time of year.

'Jardine and Matheson have their new clippers ferrying mud regularly now from Calcutta,' the manager explained, 'so there is more at Whampoa than anyone knows what to do with. Which is why the companies are trying so hard to make contact with new buyers up the coast.'

'This development should save them that necessity.'

The manager translated for Mowqua's benefit. Now the Mowqua became alarmed.

'What for you pay so big?' he demanded in pidgin. 'No wantee so muchee. Six, seven thousand so would be enough. Muchee more than enough.'

'No,' replied Elliot. 'We have to make this a real gesture of goodwill. To show Lin we are genuinely willing to stamp out this trade.'

'Are
we, sir?' asked the manager in surprise.

‘
I
am,' replied Elliot simply.

Commissioner Lin sat in an upstairs room at the Yueh-Hua Academy in Canton, where he had set up his headquarters. The ceiling was high and the room felt cool. He was keeping his diary, and his brush flickered swiftly over the scroll of parchment.

'Today I stationed armed patrol ships at all the approaches to the quays to prevent foreigners from embarking or disembarking.'

He paused; what else had he done? He had posted spies to report on the reactions of foreigners to his Edicts. He had written several letters to friends in Peking. And that was all. Not a very inspiring or busy day. He put aside his brush, and looked out through the window over the rooftops towards the distant sea, and the gaily painted junks. An orderly knocked respectfully on the door, came in, prostrated himself on the floor, beat his head on the ground in ceremonial
kow-tow
and then stood up.

'I have, Excellency, a note by way of the Guild merchants from the Barbarian Elliot. They have prepared twenty thousand two hundred and eighty-three chest of opium which they wish to surrender. They await your instructions as to the day and hour you will receive it.'

'Good,' said Lin. Maybe the day was not going to be so dull as it had seemed. How right he had been to pursue a policy of firmness as soon as he had arrived in Canton! Doubtless, this number of chests was only a small part of the vast amount the Barbarians must have secreted in their floating warehouses at Whampoa. However, it was a start; that was the main thing. He now had something positive to report to his Emperor. Within days of his arrival, he had achieved most encouraging results; far more than Lu had achieved in months, and their predecessors in years.

'Send in the secretary,' he commanded the orderly, who bowed, and went out through the hanging bead curtain. Another man came into the room carrying several scrolls and brushes and small pots of coloured ink.

'Write,' commanded Commissioner Lin. 'First, I wish that a present of beef and mutton and other Chinese foods is sent immediately to the Barbarian Elliot and his staff as a token of our felicity at the news that he is surrendering stocks of opium.

'Next, I will write to the Emperor and inform him of our success so far. See you arrange the speediest rider to take this message. It is essential that the Son of Heaven receives it with the minimum of delay.'

Lin paused and stood, hands in the sleeves of his long robe, looking out at the sea, imagining the journey the rider would have. First, out on the plains, his horse still fresh, past the fields fertilized with human hair from the city's barber shops, then past the corpses of those who had recently died, lying in their open coffins by the roadside, awaiting an auspicious day for burial, for on some days it was fitting to be buried and on others it was not, and only local holy men could give accurate decisions.

Lin also thought of Viceroy Lu, who had left Canton in disgrace after his arrival. He would not be hurrying like the swift messenger on his northward journey, but would dawdle along the way, delaying his arrival at Peking as long as possible. How different to be a bearer of good news! For good news warmed the heart of a man even more than the sun's heat; it helped him to see in the dark even without the moon.

Commissioner Lin could imagine the Emperor's pleasure at receiving such swift confirmation that his policy was being so successfully carried out. It was not impossible that the Emperor would reply by sending to Lin the response most sought after in all the Kingdom: a strip of dried roebuck flesh, which was the Imperial way of saying without
_;
words that a subordinate's speedy promotion was assured.