02 Shanghai Dreams (The Earl’s Other Son #2)

by Andrew Wareham

“Excellent, sir. It would be as well to exercise the hands shifting the twelve pounder from ship to lighter, sir. Will the budget bear that cost?”

  “Arranged, my lord. Tug and lighter will be present on Thursday, during the forenoon.”

  Magnus thought quickly. The exercise would require steam on the winches, so the donkey engine must be up and ready, Engineer Lieutenant Buchan aware of the need. Mason would wish to oversee the process and the Gunner, Brownrigg, must have direct command of the exercise. No great difficulty there.

  “I very much hope Racoon will require only the one ah, ‘dry run’, as it were, sir. I shall be more than a little annoyed if that is not sufficient. My new Gunner, a young and enthusiastic gentleman, will be able to cope, I believe.”

  “Very good, Eskdale. I shall watch with interest.”

  And hoping for failure, no doubt, Magnus thought as he smiled his confidence.

  “While I am here, sir, one of these irritating pieces of business. I left behind a seaman, what was his name… McLenehan, that it’s it, when last we sailed from Shanghai. Either jumped ship or too drunk to catch it. Whatever, he was for the chop – a record of unreliability and minor misconduct which had been ignored because of his ability with ropework. Taken things too far for my tolerance.”

  Captain Erskine gave his favourite superior smile.

  “Dealt with, my lord. The provost party picked him up some hours after you sailed, fighting drunk in a bar outside the International Settlement, in the Chinese town. The Chinks had called for the provosts rather than take the risk of him dying as they tried to throw him out. Didn’t want a dead sailor to explain away.”

  “One can hardly blame them for that, sir. It would be very easy to call them murderers.”

  Erskine was not entirely convinced.

  “They can’t claim clean hands when they had sold him the alcohol in the first instance. However that may be, the patrol picked him up and he fought them.”

  “Foolish, sir. In the extreme. The crushers will have had no mercy on him.”

  Erskine nodded – very few real sailors had any affection for the provosts ashore.

  “They took their clubs to him, of course. Brought him to the Mixed Court the next morning in a sadly bruised state. No sympathy for him and he received three years detention for assault and battery. They allowed us to use our own facilities rather than the prison here and I put him in the cells of the next ship that sailed to Hong Kong, to the military prison there. He’ll be learning to behave himself by now.”

  “Pity about his ropework, sir, but no sympathy for the man. He’ll not be drinking inside the glasshouse, that’s for sure, sir, and the guards there will break him of his habit of fighting, if he survives. Three years… that’s an automatic bad conduct discharge when he comes out, is it not, sir?”

  “It is, Eskdale. If he lives, and I doubt that is more than a fifty-fifty chance, then he will be put out of the doors as a penniless civilian. None of our concern.”

  “Neither it is, sir. He has had his chances, more than one. What will happen to him, out of curiosity?”

  “The police will be waiting for him. They will arrest him as a vagrant, unemployed and without money. He will go as DBS then.”

  Distressed British Seaman – not to be left as a derelict, shaming the White Man in front of the Chinese, but dumped aboard the first merchantman out as a stoker in the black gang, and probably dismissed as useless at the earliest opportunity, possibly in the States, perhaps in Australia, depending on where the ship called next.

  “Thoroughly deserved too, sir. Thank you for your assistance in the matter, sir.”

  Both men thought the fellow had earned his fate – neither had pity for such an ingrate as he had proved to be.

  “Shore leave, sir. I propose none until we have the exercise on Thursday. Thereafter I wish to be generous. The men behaved very well off Formosa – an encounter with a disguised pirate ship. Admiral Seymour was pleased with them.”

  “Filled the yardarm, I presume, Eskdale?”

  Erskine sounded rather excited at the prospect.

  “No, sir. Only five of them survived and a Japanese destroyer turned up immediately after the action, drawn by the sound of the guns, and requested custody of the pirates. They wished to question them about the location of their harbours on Formosa. They had a Navy observer with them, a Commander Hartson, who thought I should cooperate with the Japs.”

  Captain Erskine had a very good idea of just how the Japanese would ask their questions, was much in favour.

  “That will teach those little buggers not to go playing pirates in our waters, Eskdale. Good work. Don’t know Hartson, but a name to remember. These liaison people are generally coming men, you know. Anything of interest to us?”

  “They had a pair of French guns aboard. Probably taken in Indo-China, Commander Hartson thought.”

  “Typical bloody Frogs – can’t even run a war against a bunch of Chinks! You know, Eskdale, I’m not at all sure we should be seeing the Frogs as allies. People seem to think that if we are at loggerheads with the Germans then we must be friends with the Frogs, but I say a pox on both their houses, Eskdale!”

  “So do I, sir. Britain needs neither!”

  They had found a rare point of agreement. The Empire on which the sun did not set had no use for foreigners, no value for them, particularly those who dwelt on the Continent of Europe. Far the wisest course was to let the Frogs and the Teutons fight out their grubby little wars and pick up the pieces afterwards; as for the Russians – they were not even true Europeans, had not climbed even that far up the tree. There might be an argument for a close friendship with the United States, who at least spoke a proper language, but no other so-called ‘allies’ had anything to offer the Empire. The Navy ruled the seas, and the rest of the world could whistle, for all Britannia cared.

  Captain Erskine tried to be considerate of his subordinate’s career and ambitions, as a good Captain should.

  “Are you to remain with Racoon, do you know, Eskdale?”

  “I would expect to, sir. On paper, she is a small, third-class cruiser, which is right for my rank as a Commander, and will do me no harm when it comes to the possibility of eventual promotion. She will be out here for another two or perhaps three years and I would either take her back Home or transfer to an equivalent or slightly larger ship on station. There is my personal life to consider as well, of course, sir. Guardship in Shanghai will do me very well for the next year or two.”

  “So it would. You would have permission to sleep out of your ship as a matter of course, except where riot was brewing. Most convenient.”

  “I hope so, sir. Is there any word I must take back to my wardroom, sir? Unofficially, that is – clubs and bars to avoid, that sort of thing?”

  Captain Erskine had nothing to say on that, could not quite see why he might have.

  “Captain Hawkins, in Hong Kong, sir. The Intelligence fellow, you know. He keeps a list of places in Hong Kong where naval officers are very welcome and where any indiscreet word will be noted down and sent to Berlin or St Petersburg or Paris. I wondered whether any such establishments had come to your notice here.”

  Captain Erskine made an elaborate gesture of distaste.

  “Spying and that sort of thing, Eskdale! Not my cup of tea. Not for any gentleman to get involved in. I know nothing of such matters, personally, that is… I will send Paymaster Lieutenant Empingham to see you in the morning – he reports to Hawkins. Damned strange that he should… very good family, the Empinghams, although he is no more than a fourth son and not a seaman, of course. He may have advice on that sort of thing, not that I consider it important. I ask you, Eskdale, what could a naval lieutenant know that would be of interest in Berlin?”

  Magnus could think of several matters of gunnery in particular that might be useful knowledge; he made no response and returned to Racoon.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary, Mr Mason. No shore leave before Thursday when we s
hall be exercising in the forenoon. There will be a tug and lighter coming alongside and we shall practise putting the light gun aboard together with ammunition and a landing party, all in full gear, boots especially, and with water and rations. Mr Brownrigg to have the boarding party and gun with a midshipman. I do not know how many men will be appropriate – that will depend on the size of the lighter. We must tell off two shore parties of thirty men, a lieutenant and a senior petty officer, one always to be available at thirty minutes, the other at say two hours notice. Best thing will be to have two parties nominated from each watch so that we can give leave without having to worry about readiness. I want to see Engineer Lieutenant Buchan and then Brownrigg. I shall need an hour at least with Buchan.”

  Tedious business, listening to Buchan’s plans for his engines, for the necessary overhauling and minor improvements that were essential in the engine room.

  “We can expect to be guardship for up to three years, Mr Buchan. The engines must be ready at any time at, say, six hours notice. If there is a possibility of more urgent need, I shall ensure you are informed. I shall require steam on the donkey engine for the winches on Thursday from dawn through the forenoon. We shall be loading a lighter with the twelve pounder and necessary stores. The donkey engine may be called on at any time as we can be ordered away with the gun at no more than six hours and possibly a lot less.”

  It would be done, Buchan assured him. There would, inevitably, be a list of parts and spares necessary to keep the engines on top line.

  “Eight years old, the engines, sir, and will benefit from the dockyard when we return to England.”

  “They won’t get much, Mr Buchan. Racoon will not serve other than as a guardship or tender, unless we have a great war in the next year or two.”

  Buchan was not surprised to hear that; the ships had been a first response to the torpedo, an idea that had not worked well.

  “Live and learn, sir. Even the Admiralty is capable of so doing, occasionally.”

  “Nothing to say, Mr Buchan. Make up your rosters for shore leave for your people, from Friday next. Have you artificers who might benefit from sea time in another ship? Men whose careers would be harmed by two or three years tied up alongside?”

  “My Chief Engine Room Artificer is young, sir, for the rank. He could rise in the world, given an active ship. He would be senior in a small torpedo boat destroyer, sir, the sole engineer aboard; a man is often granted a commission after an effective two or three years of such service.”

  Magnus was not at all sure he approved of officers rising from the ranks rather than being properly trained at Dartmouth. Commissioned Gunners were a relatively new, and generally unwelcome, innovation; adding Engineers to the list could hardly be desirable but was evidently unavoidable.

  “I will send his name up for proper consideration, Mr Buchan. Do make sure that he knows which knife and fork to use at the dinner table.”

  Brownrigg was welcome by comparison.

  “You will be required to take the light gun and a party of men, Mr Brownrigg, along the river to deal with flare-ups as they occur. Midshipman Grant-Hartley as your number two, is my first thought. I do not yet know the size of the lighter to be made available. We shall discover during exercises on Thursday, in the forenoon. Ammunition and full stores for six days. If you are out longer, there will be a ship of some sort coming to your support, I do not doubt.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Good. Any thoughts on the task, give them to Mr Mason and he will discuss them with me tomorrow. I am going ashore now.”

  “One thing, sir. How many rounds for the twelve pounder?”

  “I do not know… Let me see… You must have two blanks, to be able to give a warning. You will require some HE to use against junks on the river and to batter walls as necessary – say twenty rounds. For the rest, shrapnel to drive off mobs of rioters, and soldiers in the worst case. Allow for the need to pacify a small town… Sixty rounds of shrapnel will do. That’s what in weight?”

  “Fixed charge projectiles, sir. About three quarters of a ton, sir. That should not be difficult on a lighter of ordinary size for the river, sir.”

  “Good. Make it so. Any further immediate questions?”

  Brownrigg belatedly realised why Magnus was anxious to get ashore, apologised and left. Carter held the door for him, sniffing.

  “Best uniform, sir. Not reporting but what is right for the occasion, sir.”

  Magnus offered no objections – Carter had a sense of propriety that he lacked. Twenty minutes later, fresh shaved and neatly pomaded, he trotted onto the pontoon and ashore.

  There were voices behind him, below decks, just loud enough to be heard.

  “If I was going to see a bint like that, I’d be running too.”

  “Lucky bastard!”

  “Give ‘er one for me, captain.”

  None of the speakers were visible; all would deny ever opening their mouths, even though Magnus was sure he recognised two of the voices. He looked straight ahead, hearing nothing. He would make a fool of himself if he attempted any sort of disciplinary action, and at least they had not been abusive – envious perhaps, and he could not blame them for that.

  The door opened to him as he reached it and a Chinese butler took his hat and smiled a welcome before leading him upstairs to a drawing room. Miss Blantyre was alone, dressed very smartly, far too well turned out for an ordinary day. She walked across to him, then ran into his outstretched arms.

  “I did not expect you back so soon, Magnus. I thought your admiral would have work for you over the whole of the Chinese coast.”

  “There are other ships, and I am in good odour at the moment. We were sent to catch pirates and did well enough to gain his favour.”

  “Another medal?”

  “No. Not that sort of success. Just a neat, tidy little operation that made the Navy shine in the eyes of the Japanese. There will be an alliance with Japan before too many years have passed and actions such as this can only be helpful.”

  She was not surprised that he had been successful – she knew that he was capable of great things.

  “Ah… while you are here, Magnus… Have you time to speak with my father?”

  She spoke uncertainly, unsure of herself.

  “Father wishes to talk to you, Magnus. About an engagement ring, I believe, though he has not said so directly… I believe he has something ostentatious in mind, if it will not cause you offence.”

  She did not wish to hurt her father, who obviously enjoyed spending outrageous sums on his daughter; she had no wish to humiliate Magnus by wearing gems that he could not possibly have afforded for her.

  Magnus smiled, aware of her feelings, sympathising. She was in a difficult position, might feel that she had to choose between her father and her fiancé, both of whom she loved.

  “Has he a huge rock in mind, Ellen? He mentioned that he would wish to make the purchase. He is a good-hearted man and we must not hurt his feelings. I would much like you to be decked out in the finest and will not begrudge what I cannot provide. Let us smile and tell him there is nothing we should like more.”

  Her beam of delight was reward enough.

  She took his hand to lead him through to her father’s study.

  Magnus was entertained by his own reactions, by the words that had come unplanned from his mouth; he had smirked at besotted husbands in the past, now laughed at himself as he suspected that was his own fate.

  “Soon as I saw Racoon tie up I thought we’d see you here today, my lord! While we’re at it, and just to keep things tidy, what is yer moniker now, officially, that is?”

  “Eskdale, sir. The Admiralty has officially informed me that a corpse taken from the Thames is that of my poor brother. I would not be telling the truth if I said that I do not relish the thought of eventually becoming the Earl – yet I could wish that the circumstances were less tragic. Foolish and sinful he may have been, yet he was still my brother, sir. I hear as wel
l that my father is not bearing up well under the strain of the awful events. It is possible that he may be placed under some form of legal restraint, in fact. It is a bad business, sir. I wish that I was in London – I might have been able to do something useful. But I am, at the same time, glad that I am in Shanghai, removed from the whole affair. What is it they say, sir? Torn between two stools? I truly am.”

  “No surprise there, my lord. You are in a bad position, yet you are doing your best. I heard a whisper from Hong Kong that you had been busy with pirates off Formosa and dealt with them very tidily. Your example of dedication to duty can only be commented upon, when compared to your brother’s failings. I have told you before, and say it now, I am pleased and proud that you are to become my son by marriage! Talking of which, I would wish to invite you to come with me to the premises of Sia Tze Nan, who deals much in precious stones as well as silks and such. We could go now, if it suited your convenience? In Bubbling Well Road, not very far at all.”

  Magnus had no official duty to take him away and wished to be in Ellen’s company; he was very happy to take a short walk he said. He was gravely corrected – a man of Blantyre’s standing walked nowhere in Shanghai.

  Sia owned a silk warehouse and other exporting businesses and what he referred to as a ‘pawn shop’. It seemed that he was in the habit of buying out the assets of eminent families who had fallen upon hard times, or so he said. He had a number of rings that might be of interest, as he had already discussed with the honoured Blantyre.

  Magnus raised an eyebrow – the choice of words seemed obsequious to him. Blantyre showed that he regarded such self-obeisance as only what was due to the master of one of the greater hongs. Sia showed no reaction to either face though Magnus was certain he had read both.

  “Rings, sir, made to the lady’s finger, as takes only a few minutes for a capable artisan, of whom I have more than one.”

  Blantyre waved his daughter and son-to-be forward.

  “What do you think? Diamonds are best for an engagement, so they say. I like rubies, myself, but I don’t know what’s right and proper in these things. What say you, my lord?”