Chinese Whispers

by Andrew Wareham

  “Would he ever fit into the wardroom?”

  “He could be made to, sir. I think he is clever enough to climb, sir.”

  “Bugger it! Bring him to me, Mr Lockhart. I shall speak to him myself and form my own opinion of him. What’s his name?”

  “Mulligan, sir.”

  “Irish?”

  “Not in this generation, sir. Pompey born.”

  “No Paddy accent will help. Tell him why he is to see me – if he wants it, then we’ll see how he reacts.”

  Lockhart brought Mulligan to the cabin at the beginning of his next watch, nervous and trying not to show it. He was still young, heavily muscled and none too tall, coal ingrained in the pores of his face, like any stoker. It would be years before the marks of the trade left him.

  “Stoker Mulligan, sir.”

  “Thank you, Mr Lockhart. Mulligan, Mr Lockhart tells me you want to better yourself. Is that so?”

  “Yes, sir. Like to work in the engine room, sir. I reckon as ‘ow I could learn, sir, and make a tiffy, sir.”

  “Engine room artificer, Mulligan? You would have to learn a great deal, would you not?”

  “Yes, sir. I can do it, sir. I bought a book, sir, what teaches mathematics, sir, for sailors in the engine room, so it says. I been reading it and doing the exercises, sir. I can do them. I been reading other books, too, sir, what the schoolteacher on shore ‘ere says is right for a tiffy, sir.”

  “Who sent you to the schoolteacher, Mulligan?”

  “Beg pardon, sir, but nobody did. I ‘eard as ‘ow there was a teacher what was one of us, RN, like, and went and found ‘im for meself, sir. Told ‘im as what I wanted to do good in the Navy, sir.”

  “How old are you Mulligan?”

  “Dunno, sir, not for sure. I said I were sixteen to the recruiting people, sir. Last year that was. I might be.”

  Off the streets, with no home at all, Magnus suspected, and strong enough to choose to go to sea rather than end up in gaol one day.

  “Take Mulligan into the engine room, Mr Lockhart. He is too good a man for the stokehold. Can you replace him easily?”

  Lockhart laughed.

  “In Hong Kong, sir? I could find a hundred Chinese stokers tomorrow, sir. Easily done.”

  “Do so. See to uniforms and such, Mr Lockhart. Mulligan has thrown his last shovel of coal.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “No need for thanks, Mr Lockhart. The Navy will gain, I believe.”

  Magnus stood and reached out a hand to Mulligan, exchanged a brief handshake.

  “Work hard, Mulligan. I will ensure that you are sent to any training course that you need when the ship returns to England. Keep working after that and I will do all I can to see you wearing an officer’s hat, like Mr Lockhart. I will keep an eye out for you. You will need to speak like an officer when that day comes – so learn that as well. Ten years of hard labour, you have sentenced yourself to, Mulligan – I think it will be worthwhile.”

  Magnus thought for a few horrified seconds that the boy would burst into tears – far too much emotion for a gentleman to display. He collected himself and saluted instead.

  Magnus was left with a feeling of virtue, and with the knowledge that he had done some good, for the Navy and for Mulligan himself. Any youngster from the lower deck would benefit from a patron, even one as uncertainly placed as Magnus could do some good.

  Orders arrived and contained nothing unexpected. Captain Hawkins appeared on board a few minutes later.

  “Received word from our people in San Francisco, Eskdale. A consignment of Winchester carbines and of Remington repeating rifles was loaded onto a ship with American papers last month. Also, three million rounds of ammunition. Separately, a consignment was despatched to Hawaii consisting of Maxim guns and ammunition belts and another two million rounds. That was on a Canadian registered ship. The American is reported as en route to Sydney, by way of Hawaii, where it will coal. The papers suggest that the small arms are consigned to the State of New South Wales, for use by the Militia who are being equipped for South Africa.”

  “That sounds acceptable, sir. I presume it is untrue.”

  “It is, Eskdale. The State of New South Wales has purchased Lee Enfield rifles from the War Office for its troops. They have Maxim guns on order, again from England. The federal authorities in Washington have no knowledge of the consignments and are investigating. If they complete their processes in time, they will stop the ships in Hawaii. The odds are that they will be unable to make the interception. We have a man in Hawaii who will observe and inform. We will have the name that the ship is sailing under, assuming that the two cargoes are loaded onto one vessel, and should be able to give you all you need when you reach Wei-Hai-Wei. We assume the ship will coal at Manila. It should be possible to confirm its sailing date there.”

  Magnus noted the repeated use of the word ‘assume’.

  “Not easy to pick up a small ship on the China coast, even so, sir. Will we have any indication of its port, sir?”

  “A certainty, there, Eskdale. It is to call into Tsingtao where the cargo will be transhipped into junks which will take it into Taku. The Imperial Army will oversee the offloading of the cargo at some point inland on the river and the transference to the Boxers, in part. Some amount of the consignment will go to the Army.”

  “The machine guns, I presume, sir. Some or all of the Remington rifles as well, would make sense. The Winchester carbines are not practical military weapons, I understand, except perhaps for light cavalry.”

  Captain Hawkins showed surprise that Magnus had such understanding of military matters.

  “I read a report, sir, needing to summarise for my last admiral. There was a proposal, you may recall, sir, that naval landing parties might be armed with carbines, thus giving them substantial fire power.”

  “It sounds sensible, Eskdale.”

  “Sounds good, but the reality is less so, sir. The Winchester carbine fires the forty-five pistol round. Accurate range? A hundred yards, in practical terms. You could do better on the range, but it is underpowered for our needs. At most, you might wish for half of a landing party to carry the carbines while the remainder were equipped with rifles. Personally, I would see them all with rifles and carrying a heavy revolver, or one of these new automatic pistols. The same for cavalry in ordinary battle conditions – though I have doubts whether cavalry has any place now on the field of battle. There’s barbed wire, sir, and the Maxim Gun, and later versions of the machine gun are being invented all of the time. Cavalry is for scouting and nothing else, in my opinion, sir.”

  Captain Hawkins was taken aback by such heresy. He was a naval officer, but he came from a military family. The pre-eminence of the cavalry, the arme blanche, was not a matter for debate in his understanding.

  “Well… perhaps, Eskdale. Not that we have any cavalry here in China, of course. The Chinese themselves have no proper horses – Mongol ponies, is all. I do not doubt that was the Heavy Brigade to be established here, we would see far fewer of problems with the Chinks.”

  Commanders did not argue with post-captains.

  “Yes, sir. I am sure you are right. Now, sir, the gunrunner is due for Tsingtao – so von Ketteler is organising the business in Peking. We have reports that he has been talking with the Imperial Army.”

  “We have indeed, Eskdale. I have made enquiries following your initial information and have confirmed it. It may well be considered appropriate to bring the good baron’s activities to an end. You know nothing of that and will be in no way involved – wiser that you should be seen to be far distant. I am in contact with London, thinking it necessary to have their backing for any action to be taken. That will require a month or two of consideration before any decision is made.”

  It seemed rather a long time to make one’s mind up.

  “They will confer with their people in Berlin, Eskdale. It may be possible to persuade the people there to clip von Ketteler’s wings, even to transfer
him, rather than be forced to any extremes of action.”

  Only then did Magnus realise they were talking assassination.

  Captain Hawkins smiled kindly.

  “Have a man replaced and he will brief his successor, and policy may continue unchanged. Put a bullet in him and his plans will often die with him. Ours is not a trade in which we keep written records, you know.”

  Magnus was not sure he liked ‘ours’. He was not convinced that he was a part of the world of intelligence.

  “Whatever, sir, it will be necessary to take, sink or otherwise destroy the gunrunner before it enters Tsingtao. It would hardly be practical to intercept a dozen or more of junks carrying the goods to Taku. Even to identify them certainly would be hard enough.”

  “Exactly so, Eskdale. Barfleur will be present in Wei-Hai-Wei, entirely coincidentally, in case you need back-up. The most they ever have in Tsingtao is an eight inch gun armoured cruiser. Barfleur’s ten inchers should be sufficient of a deterrent if the Germans find your actions offensive. You should, of course, take great care to ensure that the Germans do not find you at all. They will hardly send out an escort for the gunrunner and provided you take her out of their direct sight, you should have no problems.”

  “I would hope not, sir. Are we on good terms with the Americans at present, sir?”

  Captain Hawkins raised an eyebrow, looked his question.

  “Was I to appear in Manila Bay, escorting a gunrunner I had discovered off the coast of the Philippines, sir, would they be willing to clap her crew into irons?”

  Hawkins smiled and thought that to be an excellent idea.

  Chapter Nine

  The Earl’s Other Son Series

  Chinese Whispers

  “Obelisk’s number on the Admiral’s flagstaff, sir. Signalling, ‘permission to proceed’, sir.”

  “Acknowledge. Crew to harbour stations. Single up. Engine room ready…”

  Magnus gave the sequence of orders for sailing, trying his best to sound casual, carrying out a simple, routine action. Obelisk was the greatest ship he had ever handled – a pipsqueak compared to the battleships he had sailed in as a member of an admiral’s staff, but large indeed when all his responsibility.

  “Screws are clear, sir.”

  The messenger gave the report that the midshipman at the stern had raised the green flag that confirmed that the cables had not fouled either rudder or screws.

  “Slow ahead. Cast off the spring.”

  One stern wire had been eased but not fully cast off so that Obelisk’s bow swung off the dockside more quickly.

  “Salute all senior, Mr Knowles.”

  The Marines had a bugler who was positioned on the stern bridge, successor to the old quarterdeck, making the ship’s salute to all vessels commanded by men senior to Magnus. His very few juniors initiated the salute as Obelisk passed them.

  They reached the harbour mouth without problem, avoiding all of the many sailing vessels that thronged Hong Kong’s harbours and maintaining her speed and dignity as was proper for the Royal Navy in a major base.

  “Revolutions for eight knots. Officer of the watch?”

  The new Navigating Officer, Coulthorne, saluted and looked terribly enthusiastic. He was a chinless young gentleman with a pointed nose who reminded Magnus of a greyhound, forever twitching to be off. Knowles vouched for his ability, however.

  “Course for Hanshan. Speed to arrive in daylight. Stand down from harbour stations. Inform me if for any reason we are unable to make our course.”

  Under steam and independent of the wind, the last order was no more than a traditional formality, but it reminded the lieutenant that the captain must be told of anything, everything out of the ordinary.

  “Paymaster to my cabin.”

  Paymaster-Lieutenant Geddes was bespectacled, his eyesight the reason for his specialisation. He could not be a deck officer with less than perfect vision.

  “Mr Geddes, you have oversight of the confidential books, I believe.”

  That was entirely normal.

  “Captain Hawkins had intended to send a message before we sailed. Has it arrived?”

  “Yes, sir, marked for the captain but not stamped confidential, sir.”

  “So you have opened it and made a record of it in the Letter Book?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Quite correct. Anything marked confidential or secret must come direct to me. Everything else is yours to deal with. What did it say?”

  “The gunrunner, sir, has left Hawaii with both cargoes aboard. Course is westerly but destination unknown. Ship is a small coal burner, no sail, and will need to bunker if it is to return from the China coast. Expectation is that it will call in Manila Bay. No certainty that to be the case. Ship had the name ‘San Diego’ painted on the stern, sir, but the paint was newer than the ship. She is registered in New York, which is strange for a West Coast ship.”

  “False registry and renamed, it would seem, and probably to be called by another name by the time it reaches us. What is it?”

  “Single, central stack; three island; about a thousand tons; buff upper-works over black hull. Red band around the smokestack. Single boat on davits at the stern. Crew of at least thirty men.”

  That was too many for a small tramp steamer. Ship owners cut their costs and seamen were expensive to pay and feed.

  “Should be fifteen at most, Geddes. Davits are unusual on so small a ship. Don’t make sense for an honest merchantman. Sounds as if they want to use the boat quickly and frequently. Any mention of passenger accommodation?”

  “No, sir.”

  “That red band round the funnel will be painted out by now, pretty much of a certainty. The buff upper-works may well have a partial or whole coat of some other colour over them.”

  “Yes, sir. They can’t change the three islands or the location of the smokestack, sir. They might add a false deckhouse, I suppose, sir.”

  “Best to bring Mr Knowles in on this… Carter! First Lieutenant, please.”

  Knowles took his seat and listened to Magnus’ conclusions and Geddes’ comments, showed a thoughtful mien.

  “Twelve men, at least, too many, sir. Guard party. Heavily armed, I would wager, sir. If she’s a slaver normally, then she deals with some unsavoury characters in shady ports. What’s the chance of a Maxim or two concealed in the sort of false deckhouse Mr Geddes mentioned, sir?”

  “Damned good point, Mr Knowles! A strong possibility. Well thought.”

  Knowles preened himself, proud of his understanding, glad to have impressed the new captain.

  “Man the three pounders and the four Maxims when we close her, Mr Knowles. We don’t want to sink her with the four point sevens if we can avoid it. The aim is to display her cargo in front of a disapproving audience. What have we in our steam picket boat?”

  Just one of Obelisk’s boats had a little steam engine, good for six knots in a sheltered harbour or on a calm sea.

  “Unarmed, sir.”

  “Could we rig a mounting for a Maxim?”

  “In harbour, sir, certainly, using the facilities of the yard. I doubt we have the materials to hand in the engine room, sir.”

  “Pity. Arm the boarding party, obviously. Pistols as well as rifles, I think. Better we should aim to come alongside her rather than use the boats… Trouble with that, she would be lower than us and the guns might not bear on her.”

  Knowles was able to reassure Magnus, glad to display his own, new, knowledge.

  “The Maxims, sir, are designed in part for work against pirates in colonial waters. They can sweep the water for small boats close alongside.”

  “Good. Glad to know that, Mr Knowles. Pity we don’t have a pair of these new pompoms aboard. One pound explosive shells and a high rate of fire – useful at close quarters.”

  “My brother is in South Africa, sir. Lieutenant in the Hampshires.” Geddes seemed almost gloomy when he gave that information. “The Boers have some pompoms – Krupps, I pres
ume. They are making very good use of them, he tells me. He wrote from hospital, sir. He expects to be returned to England in a few weeks – might be aboard ship now, allowing for the time the letter took to reach me here. Lost his left hand and part of the forearm to shell splinters. He’ll be invalided out, of course.”

  There was no place for a one-armed subaltern – he could only be a burden on his battalion.

  “That’s bad luck, Mr Geddes. What will he do now?”

  “Not much, I would imagine, sir. He always wanted to be a soldier. Too old to train for a profession now, he is twenty-four and had no education beyond Sandhurst. My father will be able to keep him at home, to feed and dress him – will have to, in fact – but he can hardly pay him an income, not as a half-pay post-captain. There may be a few pounds a year for him as a disability payment, but very little. Two sisters for my father to keep as well. Bit of a disaster for the family, in fact.”

  There was nothing to say – naval pay was low and a man trying to bring up a family without a private income in addition was always in financial difficulties. Officers were not expected to live on their pay – it was an extra rather than their living. Magnus was aware again of just how fortunate he was in his marriage; his pregnant wife was a source of joy – to many naval officers a child was a not entirely welcome burden.

  “How do we stand for prize money, sir? If we take this gunrunner, will there be a pay out on her?”

  “Good question, Mr Geddes. I don’t know. It’s not like the old days, fortunes sailing the ocean waiting for lucky naval officers to come along. The Admiralty still makes payments, I know, but how much and under what conditions, I have no idea. Do you know, Mr Knowles?”

  The First Lieutenant was aware that prize money was still paid out, but not in the huge amounts of the Napoleonic days.

  “I suppose there will be a few thousands for the ship, if we take her, sir. She has a sufficiently valuable cargo and one that could be sold easily.”

  The pair left, and Magnus sat to think.