Chinese Whispers

by Andrew Wareham

  If he took the gunrunner into the Americans in Manila Bay, the Admiralty would be unlikely to pay out for her. The Americans might be glad of the windfall, but they would not offer cash for it. It would be politically convenient. No question of a foreign ship heading for a German port and taken by an English cruiser – and that would be popular with Their Lordships.

  What would be the reaction to bringing her into Hong Kong? Very public. Inevitably visible. The Americans might ask why one of their merchantmen had been taken on the high seas, and the Germans would be displeased. The British newspapers would hear of the affair and that she had been headed into Tsingtao; they would make a loud noise which could even lead to hostilities with Germany. Wars had been started with less cause in the past. The War of Jenkin’s Ear came to mind – and this would be far greater provocation than a mere merchant navy captain having an ear sliced off.

  He shook his head. The American gunrunner would have to go into the Philippines, there was no sensible alternative.

  “Bad luck, Mr Geddes!”

  “Did you call, sir?”

  “No, Carter. Just thinking aloud.”

  Hanshan was its happy, welcoming self. Magnus was invited ashore and took Jian with him, introducing him to Lord Ping as his confidential and bilingual clerk.

  “The man Jian has some hopes of seeing London one day, my lord. I believe he would be an asset to a Chinese hong trading there. He has no family to protect his interests in China.”

  Jian bowed deeply. They had debated whether he should fall to his knees, had decided that he was Magnus’ clerk for the while and should not debase himself, and by implication his master, by offering such an acceptance of inferiority.

  Lord Ping nodded, said nothing. His son spoke to Jian later, evidently assessing his abilities.

  Magnus withdrew from the generous hospitality at an early stage, commenting to Lord Ping that he must now conform to the demands made of a man newlywed into a large and powerful hong.

  “Ah, one understands, Lord Eskdale. The married man in England must display a public virtue that differs from our habits in China.” He smiled and exchanged bows as Magnus withdrew.

  Young Mr Ping escorted Magnus out and permitted himself to be seen to be amused by the peculiarities of British culture.

  “It is a small sacrifice to make, Mr Ping. I am both fortunate and happy in my marriage.”

  “So I am told, my lord. Once again I must express the congratulations of my family. I much hope that you will be blessed with a son, my lord.”

  “Son or daughter, either will be a delight, Mr Ping, while my lady remains well.”

  “That is not in our hands to determine, my lord. No doubt you will make your prayers. Was I to travel to London, my lord, in the next few months, I might wish to be accompanied by a man of ability and education and with some friends in London…”

  “I would be pleased to offer the services of my man, Jian, Mr Ping. He will, obviously, remain in contact with me and my family and I believe that we could provide him with some contacts in the City of London.”

  There was no need to say more. Everything could remain on the vaguest of terms – mere friendship and nothing else.

  “You will be glad to know, Mr Ping, that I am fully recovered from the wound I received in the Otvajni business.”

  Mr Ping expressed his pleasure, knowing that Magnus could not directly express his gratitude for the aid given him but happy to accept his indirect thanks.

  “An untidy affair, my lord. One was surprised to discover that the Russian fleet was so ill-disciplined and unable to deal with its own internal problems.”

  “Disgraceful, Mr Ping. I presume you heard of the direct cause of the mutiny on Otvajni?”

  The young man had heard rumour – naturally – but had not received a certain report on the nature of the flare-up.

  Magnus explained, making his distaste clear.

  Mr Ping was disgusted – such conduct was not tolerable in an officer, he believed.

  “To abuse his own men in such a fashion, my lord! He might wish to make a purchase of a boy or two, if that amuses him, but not with the sailors who are under his command. Very wrong, sir, and destructive of the proper running of a ship.”

  “Exactly so, Mr Ping. The mutiny was inevitable in such circumstances. Perhaps fortunately, the mutineers made an end to those officers who had behaved so very poorly. Less desirable was that they killed every other officer as well.”

  “Once the peasants throw off the bounds of proper discipline, my lord, there is no end to their uncontrolled violence. They must be kept in a proper subservience – it is to their benefit, my lord. They can live happy, peaceful and productive lives, while they are controlled by their betters in understanding and ability.”

  Magnus could agree with that statement – it was the way things worked at home, after all. Should work, that was – the newspapers were full of reports of strikes and industrial unrest, the country almost on the verge of an uprising, some feared. Fortunately, the Boer War had taken many of the firebrands into the army – men had volunteered in their tens of thousands, or so he understood. It was strange that striking malcontents should display such instant patriotism – it made him wonder whether everything he read in the newspapers was strictly true.

  Not to worry. If The Times said it was so, then so it must be – to question that was to destabilise the foundations of the universe. The Times seemed to believe that the country was menaced by a great mass of Reds, so that was it, even if it did seem a fraction irrational.

  He returned to his lonely cabin, the sole officer aboard other than the watchkeepers, and sat to his paperwork. He had still not read all of the files for the past six months and he needed to if he was to understand just how Obelisk worked. Normally, a captain was briefed by the man he was replacing and the takeover process was much simplified. That could not happen on this occasion and he must find out much for himself. He was fortunate that he had a well-run ship to fit into.

  The most urgent necessities were all ticked off on his list, except for a conversation with the Marine, Lieutenant Robbins. That must take place as soon as they left Hanshan, for they could be called to go in chase of the gunrunner at any time.

  Much depended on whether the small ship chose to coal in the Philippines before closing the China coast. Logic said to go into danger with full bunkers so that it was possible to flee, presumably south to the Dutch islands where she would have done most of her slaving and where there were said to be ports that had never seen a Customs official or naval officer. Magnus sat back to think, to try to place himself in the shoes of the captain of the gunrunner.

  ‘What would he do, coming from Hawaii to make landfall in Tsingtao?’

  He would not coal in French territory, because they were unwelcoming of intruders in their sphere of influence and might choose to make a Customs inspection of his ship. He would not go near Hong Kong because the risk was too great – the Royal Navy was reputed to be aware of most criminal activities at sea and might know his ship as a slaver. He might choose to coal in Tsingtao but would probably prefer to be in and out quickly – never wise to hang around where one had just made a dubious delivery. Coaling in the Philippines was a risk because the Americans must know that the Huk rebels were receiving guns from somewhere and they must be suspicious of any unknown visitor. That left really only one option that he would take himself.

  ‘The bloody Russians! He will go into Port Arthur and purchase his coal there against gold. It’s primarily a naval port, but if he puts gold dollars – or sovereigns or roubles or francs – into the right hands, he will be able to buy anything he wants. Before he unloads. If he is stopped with empty holds he can deny everything, and get away with it; he will only need to run if still loaded.’

  Carter came with a pink gin, to stimulate his mental processes, but the answer was still the same – Port Arthur.

  Captain Hawkins was to send a cable to Wei-Hai-Wei when he heard from hi
s people in the Philippines that the gunrunner had coaled there – but, if he was to call in Port Arthur, then he would never be seen by them.

  ‘What date had it sailed from Hawaii?’ He looked back into the file Geddes had given him, found the information.

  “Carter, Navigating Officer to me as soon as he arrives aboard, provided he is sober enough to walk.”

  “Yes, sir. Beg pardon, but he ain’t likely to be much in the way of setting a course before he’s had a few hours of sleep, not bearing in mind the state he’ll likely be in when he gets back, sir. Shagged out, so he’ll be.”

  “Not the most robust of men, Mr Coulthorne. You’re right. I want him here when he’s woken up and can see straight.”

  Coulthorne appeared in mid-morning. He was awake but had a tendency to lose focus on what they were doing and then to giggle. Presumably he had had a good night.

  “A ship capable of ten knots cruising speed, left Hawaii six days ago en route for Port Arthur. Where will she be now?”

  “Four thousand miles, sir, at a rough estimate, depending on her track.”

  “She will wish to be unseen.”

  “That adds a little to her distance travelled, sir. Let us start with four hundred hours – a mite more than sixteen days. We should not see her for another ten days, sir.”

  “Ten knots is a guess, no more. So is Port Arthur. Work out a track for Obelisk to follow to blockade the waters leading to Port Arthur while remaining in the vicinity of the routes into Tsingtao.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  The Navigating Officer stirred from his chair and ambled out of the cabin, greater effort beyond him. He had evidently been very well entertained by Lord Ping’s people.

  “Mr Knowles, please, Carter.”

  “You think the gunrunner will make for Port Arthur, sir? Beg pardon, sir, but why?”

  Knowles listened in silence, was inclined to be persuaded in the end.

  “We cannot spend time in Wei-Hai-Wei, not if we are to establish a patrol line somewhere south of Port Arthur, sir.”

  “I know. We are ordered to Wei-Hai-Wei and must go there. I intend that we shall call into Port Edward, anchor overnight at Liu-Kung-Tao, which is the anchorage off the island, and then sail in the morning, passing the message that we are responding to information.”

  “Risky, sir.”

  “Then we must hope the risk comes off. Much will be forgiven to the man who takes successful risks.”

  “Nothing will be forgiven to the man who fails, sir.”

  That was true, was a part of Naval existence. By sailing immediately Magnus would be disobeying orders, which must result in his being dismissed his ship, except he was successful. If he caught the gunrunner, still loaded, and took her in to Manila, then his actions would be applauded as in the best Nelsonian tradition – he would have turned the blind eye. If he never saw the smuggler, then he must learn how to be a businessman.

  They left Hanshan two days later, the whole of the crew very thoroughly rested and ready for sea again. The two five inch guns that guarded the harbour fired blanks in salute as they left, alluding to Magnus’ efforts in procuring them, a tasteful expression of gratitude, he felt.

  “What conclusion was come to, Jian?”

  “I am to accompany young Mr Ping, my lord. For which I have much thanks. I shall be informed in Shanghai when the time comes, my lord. We shall sail by way of Hong Kong to San Francisco and there to take the railway to New York and a liner across the Atlantic. That is to be less visible, my lord. It is also faster than to use a ship directly to London. There was a thought of using the Trans-Siberian Railway, my lord, from Vladivostok, but one cannot guarantee one’s safety in Russia, as you know, my lord.”

  A pair of Chinese, however rich, might be taking a risk in crossing the whole of Imperial Russia. The country was not renowned for civilised decencies.

  “Do you know when?”

  “In the month of May, my lord. There is a feeling that there might be unrest later in the year.”

  “I shall ensure that you are located in Shanghai by the beginning of the month, Jian.”

  Magnus made a note to send a telegram to Captain Hawkins that he had anonymous but good information that the Boxers were to move in June. That must go off as soon as they reached Wei-Hai-Wei.

  Jian made his thanks, properly restrained as he was aware was correct in England, and left, no sign on him of the joy he must have felt.

  Magnus smiled reflectively – there went a man who would become far richer than him within a few years.

  “Carter, Lieutenant Robbins to the cabin, please. Does he drink coffee or tea?”

  “Tea, sir. With lemon.”

  Most officers took their tea in Navy fashion, with sugar and canned milk. Carter did not approve of pansyish variations on what was right and proper.

  “Make his tea for him, Carter. Coffee for me.”

  Robbins was a Marine – and that said everything about him, apart from his tastes in tea. He was an open-faced young man, bland and forgettable, who wore a perfect uniform and marched as a matter of preference. He probably did not know how to saunter. He would obey every order, precisely and to the letter. In a situation where he had no applicable orders, he would almost certainly do nothing at all.

  “You have twenty-four Marines, Mr Robbins. All fit and good to go?”

  “One corporal and twenty-three men, sir. Four are within a year of their enlistment, sir, and are still just a little green. Two are close to the end of their time, sir, one of them with nineteen years in, having signed on again more than once. Both of the older men are very useful, sir.”

  “Been everywhere and seen everything, I presume?”

  “Exactly, sir. The corporal and fifteen of the men have their marksman’s badge, sir, which is a high proportion. All are capable of rapid aimed fire.”

  “Very good. I expect to board an armed vessel, Mr Robbins. A crew of more than thirty and a possibility of mounted but concealed machine guns. The Marines will, naturally, take the lead.”

  They could do nothing else, both agreed.

  “Which boat, sir?”

  “A gunrunner. I hope to come alongside, Mr Robbins. Over the rails.”

  “In twos, sir. Should be able to get across at the trot. Less than a minute.”

  Magnus sought the best words, something simple that might penetrate the Marine’s thick skull.

  “Not parade ground style, Mr Robbins. I want them aboard within five seconds, before a machine gun can take an aim on them. Line them up along the rail and all go across simultaneously.”

  “What, in a line, sir? Not a proper column? Marines always enter and exit a boat in column, sir.”

  “Yes, I know, Mr Robbins. I have seen them to do so. This will not be using a boat. They will be jumping over a rail and down onto a lower deck. They must move very quickly.”

  Robbins knew the quick march, but they would be standing still…

  “Never mind, Mr Robbins. They must leap instead. When we come alongside, you must give the order. Tell them to ‘jump’.”

  Magnus debated standing up and giving a sort of bunny hop to aid Robbins’ understanding of the word.

  Robbins shook his head uncertainly, he was not at all sure that he could do that.

  “It’s not in the manual of commands, sir. I’ll look it up, in case I have forgotten, but I’m sure I have memorised all of them, sir. No ‘jump’ in the list, sir.”

  “What is the closest to ‘jump’, Mr Robbins?”

  That was a difficult question. Lieutenant Robbins had never heard it before.

  “Could I have a day, sir? To sit down with the book, sir?”

  “Of course, Mr Robbins. See me tomorrow. Perhaps you could discuss the order with your corporal. He might have some ideas.”

  Robbins showed a horrified expression – one did not ‘discuss’ with corporals. They existed to take orders and put them into effect. Only officers could indulge in discussions, and then ra
rely.

  “You see, sir, I could not discuss an order with a superior, or a junior. I could talk an order over with another lieutenant, but not publicly. Orders are to be obeyed, sir, not discussed.”

  “Then listen carefully to my order, Lieutenant Robbins. You will inform your corporal that the men will be required to form a line along the bulwarks and then to jump over them and onto the deck of a smaller ship. They must do so quickly and under fire.”

  “Yes, sir. Then they must form up and advance properly, sir.”

  “No, Mr Robbins. They must run into shelter and use their rifles to kill any machine gunners or riflemen they can see. They must then find any who are hidden. Only when they have taken over the ship and ended the fighting must they form up.”

  “But, sir, if they do that, some of them will be out of my sight. I cannot command them if I cannot see them. They must form up properly behind me.”

  “No, Mr Robbins. You must tell them what to do and then leave them to get on with it. You will take some riflemen to the bridge and the rest must be given orders to find and suppress the guns. There will be a party of seamen following you and they will take over below decks. You must deal with the armed men who will be opposing us, although I hope they will have the sense not to fight a cruiser. They are criminals, however, slavers and gunrunners, and must know that they will hang, so they may fight rather than surrender.”

  It was very puzzling. Robbins sipped his tea and tried to think. He was not used to cogitation – he was a Marine because he found the effort of thinking for himself to be too great.

  “Can I speak to the others in the wardroom, sir? They might have suggestions, sir.”

  Magnus thought briefly – they were out of contact with the shore, nothing could leak unintentionally.

  “I will address the wardroom and tell everybody what we are to do, Mr Robbins. That way, any officer who has a suggestion can make it freely.”

  Mr Robbins left much heartened. He had not liked to be ordered to do something that was not in the book. Now he could talk it over and might be able to work out exactly what he must do. He was not comfortable when he had to make up his own mind about a course of action – far better that he should be told what was to be done.