SQ 04 - The English Concubine (8 page)

‘These “hoeys”. Tell me about them. Are they like the dacoits in India?’

‘Not at all, Governor. They are more like our freemasons, except they have a propensity to violence and their so-called brothers are foot soldiers and can be called upon to do the bidding of their leaders. Occasionally there are territory wars when dialect groups clash. Such violence is never, however, aimed at the colonial government to whom the Chinese leaders are remarkably loyal.’

Cavenagh seemed to consider this.

‘However, Governor, they are powerful. Three years ago a misunderstanding occurred between the government and the Chinese population regarding the new Indian Police Act. The Governor found it absolutely impossible to translate into the Chinese hieroglyphics the technicalities of an English document of law and exaggerated rumours circulated like wildfire about the magnitude of fines, the number and gravity of punishable offences and the arbitrary powers of the police.’

‘Translators. Do we have any now?’

Robert felt a moment of exasperation. The governor’s mind did hop about so.

‘One, Governor, and it is not sufficient. Currently we must send documents to Hong Kong for translation.’

Cavenagh frowned.

‘As I was saying, sir. The level of discontent was such that the leader of the secret society called a strike. Believe me, Governor, if I tell you that within one hour of the issuance of that order the town of Singapore was hermetically sealed to trade. There was not a door or window open or a man at work at his business in the town. The Klings and others ceased work too for fear of this power, issued they knew not from where, but the effect of which was so obvious. For three days the town and port were utterly deserted. It came to an end only when the government managed to reassure the leading merchants.’

‘Good God. Who leads them?’

‘Sir, it is a very secret organisation. In general, the wealthiest merchant is their leader but I cannot say that with any absolute certainty. But my example goes to show how closely they control the labouring masses. Without the hoeys we should not be able to police our colonies at all, nor conduct any business. The Chinese are everything, sir, they are skilled in every trade and manufacture, grow the food and commercial crops and labour on the farms and in the town.’

McNair, who had spent several years in Penang, nodded his agreement.

‘They are the best and most peaceable colonists in the world. I concur, sir. Their towkays, the wealthy merchants, are our go-betweens, in particular several of those you met at your reception. Whampoa, Seah and Zhen speak excellent English.’

Cavenagh gave this some thought.

‘Sir,’ Robert said into the silence, ‘may I make a request for a return to the gambling farm licenses? It is an enormous source of revenue which the town denies itself.’

‘Well, well, explain.’

‘Abolished legally in 1829, Governor, but it has not put an end to its practice. It goes on unabated and gives rise to bribery of my policemen who, being so poorly paid, succumb to such corruption. The vice is not checked, but being clandestine it is pursued with even greater ardour. As it stands, sir, the interdict on gambling makes a good police force impossible and the moral mischief might be better dealt with were it not concealed. If we tax opium, surely gambling is no greater an evil.’

‘Well, well. All this is most interesting.’

Robert waited for further illuminating words to issue from the governor’s mouth but he seemed to be ruminating on an entirely different matter.

‘Well, well. So this young Temenggong calls us his tax collectors does he? Perhaps the competition might be raised if we split the farms. We would no longer be his personal tax collectors then, eh, what, what.’

Cavenagh looked at the men around the room.

Robert frowned. The governor’s mind seemed to hop about more often than his leg.

‘Sir, that might not be wise.’

‘And why, sirra?’ said Cavenagh, rubbing his left thigh.

‘It is likely that both the farmers would aim at smuggling in chandu to the others’ domains in order to undermine their rivals. It has happened before. Sir, I have a police force of fourteen officers and three hundred and eighty men in a town of over fifty thousand Chinese.’

‘Well, that is another matter,’ said Blackwood and smiled at the governor. ‘We lease the farm, and the farmer organises himself and his security. With the extra revenue, in any case, there may be money to increase the police force by a jemadar and a couple of peons, enough for more country stations.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Cavenagh said. ‘And we shall take this prince down a peg or two. Let him gather his own revenues. We shall see what throwing open the bidding can do. We will take offers for the Singapore farm and this young sultan must offer his farm for what he might get and pay us thirty percent.’

‘He’ll not agree, Governor,’ said Robert.

‘Then he will have to settle for what we give him, won’t he. Perhaps it will deter him from war mongering.’

The governor rose, rubbing his thigh. His face had shut down. It was clear he was in pain.

‘This meeting is at an end, sirs. Send Abu Bakar a letter and we shall see.’

8

The ship loomed large as the boatman drew near. HMS Valiant was a man-of-war, bristling with cannon. Admiral Hope had arrived and soon the fleet would depart for Hong Kong.

A week ago she would not, out of respect for Zhen, have thought to come to this ship no matter what her own wishes might have been. But his dismissive attitude had been followed by total silence. She had written once but had received no reply. For that week she had turned around her house and garden, played with Lily and fretted about him.

The only person she had permitted to visit was Teresa for she deserved a friend, and Andrew came to play with Lily. As much as Charlotte tried to stay out of this dispute between her brother and his wife, she was not permitted to do so. She could offer little in the way of advice or guidance but Teresa had talked and she had listened. Sometimes, between women, a sympathetic and sensible ear is sufficient to offer a transitory relief from care.

On the seventh day, she felt a slow anger burn inside her. He had said they may not come together for months, but this silence, this was hurtful. He had not written to her nor attempted to see Lily. It felt like he was punishing her for nothing when his absence was punishment enough.

A wicker armchair was winched over the side and in this rather ungainly but quite enjoyable manner she was brought aboard.

Edmund was waiting. She was piped into his company and the crew, lined up in formation, saluted her. It was all rather wonderful and she felt a thrill. Edmund had arranged the most military and rousing welcome for her. He knew the effect of such compliments and excitements on the susceptible nature of women, even this one. And it raised him to something more than a man, more invincible warrior. At least he hoped it did.

‘Come,’ Edmund said and led her to his cabin where a luncheon was laid out with white cloth and silver cutlery. He poured champagne and she looked around. The cabin was not large but well appointed, everything a naval man could need carefully in its place. A map of China was spread out on his desk. She went to it.

‘Where you go, it will be very dangerous?’

‘Yes, perhaps not so much for myself, as for the soldiers I carry.’

She knew instinctively that wasn’t true. She felt his eyes on her and turned.

‘It is good to see you again.’

He said nothing and she looked away under the intensity of his gaze. An awkward silence lengthened.

He broke it finally. ‘You were married, I understand, and widowed. I am sorry.’

Charlotte looked up, wondering how he knew.

‘Thank you Edmund, yes, my husband died many years ago. I have two boys and,’ she hesitated the space of a breath, ‘and, a daughter. One son is returning from Scotland and the other still there. Did you marry, Edmund?’

“I married, yes, a few years ago. My wife gave me one daughter. She died in childbirth with our second child who did not survive.’

Charlotte frowned and felt an anguish.

‘Oh Edmund, I am so very sorry.’ Charlotte put out her hand to his, but he did not take it and she dropped it back to her side.

‘I have found active service has been of benefit in this case. My daughter lives with my parents in Leicestershire.’

Charlotte recalled, instantly, that the Mallorys were a noble Leicestershire family. She remembered vaguely that they lived in a place called Kirkby, or was it Kirby. Edmund made nothing of it, had told her only once, yet she remembered it now.

A servant arrived silently, bringing a tray with a pie and steaming vegetables. Edmund pulled out the chair for Charlotte and she sat.

‘Do you recall the food on board the
Madras
? Apart from a few dinners you obligingly managed to get me, the food was appalling.’

‘I recall everything on board the
Madras,’
he said.

Charlotte looked down. ‘Edmund, I am sorry …’

Edmund raised his hand. ‘No, no. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’

Edmund cut the pie and the aroma of beef filled the room. They both smiled.

‘Do you like life here, Charlotte?”

Charlotte took a sip of champagne and contemplated her reply. Somehow, she wanted everything to be clear with this man. She knew the heart of him, perhaps better than any other man, even Zhen. He was a man of unflagging courage and honour. She looked into his eyes.

‘What have you heard about me, Edmund?’

Edmund looked at her steadily. ‘Nothing that means anything to me, if you are happy.’

In an instant, it seemed, they were back on terms of intimacy, as if the intervening years had disappeared; the intimacy of the shipboard companionship they had shared when they had talked of everything, her life, his own, his ambitions, her fears, poetry, music, beauty. They had passed five months in each other’s company, on a voyage of dread, monotony, danger and hardship. They had shared the long evenings together when he was not on duty and when he was, she was often by his side.

One evening, he had thrilled her to her core. He had let her steer the ship guided by his hands. She had never forgotten that moment, the almost overpowering emotion of holding the wheel, feeling the hands of the seas holding this ship to its bosom, the arms of the wind rushing around them, the sails gusting and roaring, towering above them like a great forest filled with vast white clouds as they steered towards the moon.

She loved to watch him, calmly ordering the men to positions, taking charge, as if he
was
the ship; so long as he stood solid the ship was secure. She had been vulnerable but he had not once taken advantage of her vulnerability. He had watched over and protected her from the savagery of the ocean, the dangers of the deep and the eyes of the men which followed her every day and every night. Every man aboard the ship knew she was Lieutenant Mallory’s woman but she had been too young and naive then to realise that he had been falling in love with her.

Edmund Mallory remembered, too, those days and nights on board the
Madras
. A feeling of the utmost tenderness had entered him almost the moment he had seen her come aboard. So slight, so pale, with her perfect features, her blue eyes, her long black hair. But smart and resourceful too, educated, intelligent, clever about the sea, which she understood. He would have killed any man who touched her and he had made it known on a ship full of lustful men. His control in her presence was wrought with the greatest of difficulty. Had she but known the number of times he wanted simply to forget all decorum, to find a dark place on this dark ship and feel her body against his, his lips on hers, possess her, she would not have thought him quite so gentlemanly.

Now, even now, after so many years, she still had this power. When he passed here for service in China, he had sought her, for he knew Robert was her brother. Then she had been not been in Singapore but in Batavia and he had been disappointed. When he had seen her at the reception he could hardly believe his eyes. After the incident with the Chinese man he had made inquiries. He had been told of her reputation. She was the most notorious woman in Singapore, the English concubine was what she was called. She lived with a Chinese man, had a Chinese child. It was beyond everything but some older families still welcomed her for they had known her a long time. So he had been told. Wealthy too, he had learned, and he knew this also led to jealousies. He wondered what on earth had led her to share her life with a Chinese man. It seemed extraordinary, outlandish, unwise, but it spoke of something deep which he understood. Passion.

After Charlotte had rejected his proposal, he had lost himself in the sea. The long voyage back from Calcutta to England was wretched, a minute and hideous torture, the memory of her everywhere on the
Madras
, and once home, he had sought a different ship, a different life, one full of even more danger than this. He had joined the Royal Navy and his experience on board armed Company vessels had led to rapid advancement. He had served in the suppression of slavery in the Atlantic, captained many hydrographic expeditions to map the seas and seen active service in the Crimea.

He forgot Charlotte, sometimes for a long time. But when the ship was on calm waters and the moon floated its silver rays on the ocean, he remembered her and missed her to his soul. For almost ten years he had settled for the uncertain pleasures of casual liaisons in ports all over the world and the camaraderie of the sea. Then in Hong Kong he had met Lucy, the daughter of an English merchant and his Chinese female companion. The father, as many before him had done, had departed back to his home and an English wife. But he had done a decent thing and left funds for his daughter to be raised properly, and this had come to pass. She had been raised by her mother, who sought a husband for her amongst the English naval officers. Edmund had been perceptive enough to see that Lucy reminded him of Charlotte with her willow figure, the beauty of her eyes, and her long black hair, but he had chosen to embrace it and pour the pent-up well of love he had guarded for so long onto her. She had been just seventeen when they married and he had loved her as tenderly and as passionately as any man could. She had died only two years ago, barely twenty-one years old.