The Stone Dragon

by Peter Watt

  ‘Miss Wong, are you sure that you should be on the streets in times such as these?’

  Naomi turned to the man she was familiar with.

  ‘Lieutenant Mumford,’ she replied with a dazzling smile. ‘You forget that I am Chinese.’

  Within a pace Lieutenant Robert Mumford stood facing Naomi in his spotless dress uniform of the British army. Naomi was pleased to see the handsome, blue-eyed, blond young officer around five years older than her. They had met a year earlier when she had been invited to an afternoon tea party at the British legation gardens in the city. The invitation had been extended to Chinese merchants considered friendly to British interests and Naomi had attended, representing her father’s agency.

  She had been chatting with the middle-aged, loudvoiced wife of a British colonel who had served in India and the woman proved to be an intelligent conversationalist with what were, Naomi considered, progressive opinions.

  ‘If you would beg my pardon …’ Overhearing the conversation, Lieutenant Mumford had introduced himself. Naomi turned to face him for the first time, causing the young officer a moment of shock. ‘I’m sorry,’ he blurted. ‘I thought that you were English.’

  ‘Because of my dress and that I speak English,’ Naomi replied, seeing his discomfort clearly etched in his face.

  ‘It is just that I heard your voice and …’

  ‘And I have an English accent or rather, an Australian accent,’ Naomi continued, enjoying seeing what she perceived as a typically pompous Englishman being put in his place. ‘Actually, my father has informed me that I do sound more English than a colonial. I suppose that is because the good nuns who educated me insisted that a lady speak well.’

  ‘I must beg your forgiveness,’ Lieutenant Mumford stumbled in his speech. ‘I did not mean to cast any aspersions upon your birth as your beauty surpasses all that ancient China has to offer.’

  ‘You are forgiven for your mistake as to my identity.’

  ‘Mr Mumford is not known for his charm,’ the wife of the English officer laughed. ‘He is better known as a soldier’s soldier with little time left for us of the fairer sex. Mr Mumford is well known to me, having served in one of my husband’s companies as a young ensign when George commanded a regiment in India. I suppose that I should introduce Robert to you,’ she continued. ‘Lieutenant Robert Mumford, this is Miss Naomi Wong whose father is the proprietor of Wong & Co. I think that you will find that Miss Wong is an extraordinary young woman.’

  Robert Mumford gave a polite nod of his head and Naomi extended her gloved hand.

  ‘I am sure that it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Mumford,’ she said sweetly.

  ‘I know that it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wong,’ Robert answered, reluctant to let go of her hand.

  From that day on the English officer had vied for Naomi’s company – at Embassy cocktail parties, afternoon teas, tennis parties and even the occasional picnic. Over the past year they had become close friends although neither had ever hinted of a mutual attraction. At least Naomi found Robert attractive and often found herself daydreaming of him holding her in his arms. She had grown to doubt that the feeling was mutual and strongly suspected that was because of the prejudices haunting the gulf between East and West. She was, after all, a Chinee woman and he a European. When they were together she could feel the powerful tension but interpreted the almost electric feeling as racial bias. So although friendship was acceptable their meetings never went any further. Naomi wondered deep down, however, whether the English officer’s feelings for her were more carnal than spiritual. Was it that she was merely something exotic to him or did he really have strong feelings at some deeper level? Her feelings toward him would remain ambivalent until he demonstrated something else. Possibly he would even express love and propose marriage. Then she would know that his feelings went beyond racial bias.

  Naomi was intimidating, Robert Mumford had often brooded whenever he thought about the beautiful Eurasian woman, which was often; beautiful beyond description, intelligent far above any man he had met and yet with an air about her of serenity that touched all she came into contact with. The son of a middle-class family which had fallen on bad times, he had enlisted in the army as a boy and earned his way towards a commission for his gallant and intelligent service on the wild and violent Indian frontier. He had loved the life of a regimental officer and had bridled at the liaison duties he had been assigned in Pekin. They meant being in command of nothing more than bits of paper, pandering to the whims of senior officers attached to the British foreign service departments of the international legation offices in the heart of the city. At least the existence of Miss Naomi Wong had made the tedious life of a liaison officer more bearable.

  ‘May I walk with you?’ Robert asked now.

  ‘That would be a pleasure, Mr Mumford,’ Naomi said. ‘We were returning to my father’s office.’

  The English officer fell into step and the three made their way along the wide street.

  ‘You should consider leaving China and return to Queensland for a while,’ Robert said with a frown. ‘You must know from your contacts that the situation is deteriorating rapidly in the countryside and it is only a matter of time before we see trouble in the city. I know my opinions are not held by many in our legation who appear to have their heads buried in the sand but my soldier’s instincts tell me that these damned Boxers are out to cause mischief.’

  Naomi had heard the talk in the shops and stalls of the busy Pekin streets, as her fluency in Chinese opened many doors normally closed to Europeans. ‘I agree with you about the situation but I also have faith that the Empress will use her army to protect us. After all, this is where she resides and she has a lot to lose if the Boxers attempt to stir up trouble with her people. You need not be concerned for my welfare, Mr Mumford.’

  The English officer had strong doubts concerning the Empress. The seventy-year-old Dowager had been born to a minor court official and her beauty had caught the eye of the Emperor Hsien Feng. At sixteen she was taken as a minor concubine but she had been born with talents far beyond those the Chinese considered natural for a mere woman. A combination of innate cunning and ruthlessness was combined with luck when she bore the Emperor his first male heir. This event catapulted her to a position of great power in the royal court. It was ironic that she had a portrait of Queen Victoria prominently displayed in her quarters. She could greatly admire this other woman for the power that she wielded over her enemies. With the death of her debauched son the Dowager Empress appointed her nephew Kuang Hsu as Emperor but had him arrested when he attempted to bring reform to the outdated royal court bureaucracy. She assumed the throne once again and with ruthless efficiency purged all who had supported the reforms. Kuang Hsu found himself wandering the corridors of the palace devoid of power and supporters.

  Robert Mumford did not trust the current ruler of China. He knew her capacity to be the supreme opportunist with a hatred for all things Western. The rise of the Boxer movement might well play into her hands and whenever he considered what she was capable of he felt real fear.

  ‘Well, I am,’ Robert growled. ‘If anything should happen to you …’

  Naomi stopped and placed her hand on his arm. She was a good head shorter than Robert and gazed up into his eyes. ‘I am touched by your concern,’ she said. ‘And that means a lot to me.’

  ‘I …’ Robert did not finish expressing his deep thoughts to the woman before him. He wanted to tell her that his feelings were more than those based on a friendship between two people, but refrained as he had not properly thought out the consequences of doing so to his military career in the conservative British army.

  ‘What, Mr Mumford?’ Naomi urged gently, her hand lingering on his arm.

  ‘It is nothing,’ Robert replied, shrugging off any thoughts that might expose his true feelings for her. ‘I just wish that you might consider leaving the city and return to your father for a little while until this matter with the Chine
se rebels blows over.’

  ‘I will consider it,’ Naomi conceded, her hand slipping from his arm.

  As they continued walking they were forced to step around a street butcher quartering a pig’s carcass. Blood spattered the man’s sweating torso and he ceased in his work to glare at the English officer. Catching Robert’s eye, the butcher pulled himself erect and a tirade of angry words spilled from his mouth.

  ‘What is that man saying?’ Robert asked Naomi, whom he noticed had suddenly paled.

  ‘It is nothing,’ Naomi said and quickened her pace.

  ‘Please, what was he saying?’ Robert asked again.

  ‘He was saying that you will be dead before the week is out. Death to all barbarians who have come to ravish China,’ Naomi translated reluctantly. ‘But his words are hollow.’

  Robert did not think so. His information sources had already painted a picture of a situation about to explode around the European powers in the city. However, Naomi had not revealed all that the Chinese butcher had said as he had also included her in his tirade. It was the certainty in the butcher’s voice that most chilled her. To him she was clearly no better than a whore to the barbarians and, when the time came, he would revel in her slow death at the hands of the Boxer warriors.

  Late May 1900

  Cairns

  Without recourse to any anaesthetic or painkiller, Tung had not cried out when Andrew had expertly sewn his head wound. This had impressed Andrew, but not the police officer standing over his prisoner.

  ‘Bloody heathens don’t feel pain like us,’ he grunted.

  ‘I do,’ John Wong said quietly.

  ‘Present company excepted, Mr Wong,’ Ogden added quickly.

  ‘Your man needs to rest,’ Andrew said.

  ‘I don’t have time to sit around here on my arse guarding him,’ Ogden protested. ‘He’s got to be charged with slaying one of his own.’

  ‘Leave him with us,’ John suggested. ‘I guarantee that you will not lose your man while he is in my son’s care.’

  Ogden chewed his bottom lip, staring down at the prisoner who did not appear to be in any physical condition to escape from custody. ‘I know your reputation, Mr Wong,’ he finally said. ‘And I know that you are a man of his word. I will leave Billy with you while I get back to the station to do my report. When Master Andrew here thinks he is right to go, then Billy will escort the prisoner back to the lockup.’

  ‘Probably only a few hours,’ John said. ‘We will give him some tucker in the meantime.’

  Satisfied that he would not lose his prisoner with Billy standing guard, Ogden departed the shady depot to return to his station.

  Billy found a comfortable bale of cloth and settled down with the carbine across his knees to watch his prisoner. The Aboriginal tracker still had a sense that this seemingly innocuous Chinese man harboured a dark and dangerous spirit.

  Andrew sat by the wounded man, satisfied with what he had done, yet wondering why the man before him would be possibly responsible for the death of a fellow countryman. Andrew was intrigued. The wounded man was strongly built although not of a large physique. His hair was cut short in the European way and when Andrew caught the prisoner’s eye he could see that an intelligence beyond the ordinary seemed to burn brightly. He calculated that Tung was in his mid-thirties and seemed to be at the peak of physical fitness. He was cleanshaven and had a handsome face. In all, Andrew mused, the man was out of place in the Chinese community of north Queensland.

  ‘Thank you,’ Tung said in a whisper that Andrew just caught. The words were spoken in Mandarin, which the young Australian understood. ‘You and your father are not like the policeman.’

  Andrew leaned close to the man, who stared at the floor. ‘Who are you, and did you kill a man, as the policeman has said?’

  ‘My name is of no consequence and I did kill one of my countrymen,’ Tung replied quietly in Chinese. He slowly raised his head and could see the Aboriginal tracker watching him with dark eyes.

  ‘Then you must answer to a charge of murder,’ Andrew replied. ‘I am sorry that I cannot do more than tend to your wounds.’

  ‘It was not murder,’ Tung said. ‘I was forced to execute the man that I hunted, for the terrible crime he had committed against my country. The foolish man resisted me.’

  The statement piqued Andrew’s interest. ‘What crime?’ he asked.

  ‘Treason,’ Tung replied. ‘He was a thief and traitor who betrayed my master, Emperor Kuang Hsu. I had no choice when I hunted down the man who had betrayed not only the Emperor but China’s future.’

  ‘From what I know,’ Andrew frowned, ‘China is ruled by the Empress Tzu Hsi – not any emperor.’

  ‘Ha, how little you know of the country of your ancestor spirits,’ Tung retorted. ‘The real ruler of China should be the Emperor. It was his aunt Tzu Hsi who usurped him and had him removed from his rightful role. She is an evil woman, far more dangerous to the Western powers than you could know. Even as I am a prisoner of the barbarians, my master is a prisoner of that evil woman, and I fear for his life.’

  ‘I confess that I know little of the land of my ancestors,’ Andrew said contritely. ‘Tell me about your master.’

  Uncharacteristically Tung stared into Andrew’s face. It was a custom that he had learned of the barbarians. For some strange reason they considered looking directly at a person’s face to be polite and forthright. In his own culture the same gesture would be seen as antagonistic and meant to demean. ‘We have been crushed by the European powers for many years. We have had opium forced on us by the British and the drug has ruined my country. This could not be so if China did not supply its own self-interested classes of people to aid the foreigners. The ruling class of the Empress and her court – along with its evil eunuchs – conspires to keep China living in the past. This obedience to the old ways means that my country will never awake to its destiny. Then, one day, a ruler emerges who, despite his youth, learns about the West and attempts to modernise China so that it can resist barbarian occupation. But Kuang Hsu is no match for the deviousness of the court officials. He was forced to stand down and is now a prisoner.’

  Andrew could see the fire burning in the man opposite him and felt the intense conviction in his words. He sensed that this man was no mere peasant from the rice paddies but someone of greater intellect. ‘Tell me who you are.’

  Tung lowered his eyes. ‘If I tell you who I am will you help me escape the bonds of the barbarians, so that I may complete my mission in this country?’

  ‘I am an Australian,’ Andrew replied quietly. ‘I cannot be expected to break the law of my country.’

  Tung glanced up at him with a hint of a smile. ‘Are you really a barbarian?’ he asked. ‘To me you appear to be one of us.’

  Andrew knew exactly what the man meant. Was he really an Australian when he knew well that he always had had to fight prejudice from the Europeans around him. They might be polite to his face because his family wielded political power through wealth, but he was also aware of the hurtful comments made behind his back. It did not matter that he had been born on the soil of this ancient, arid land. His appearance – and half his name – branded him Chinese. ‘Tell me who you are and about your mission,’ Andrew said. ‘I will consider what you have told me and also consider whether I will help you.’

  ‘If I do this,’ Tung said, ‘will you swear on the spirits of your ancestors that you will keep your promise to consider my plea for help?’

  ‘I swear,’ Andrew replied, casting Billy a quick glance. Andrew had never really thought about the importance of his ancestors before because he had been raised a Christian. Now, this enigmatic man was challenging him to look inward into his true soul.

  ‘My name is Tung Chi and I was once a Shaolin priest. I was born in the Shantung province thirty-four years ago and came into the service of the true ruler of China two years ago. Before the Emperor was imprisoned he was able to give two men he thought he could trust a gre
at wealth to be used in Europe and America to purchase Western technology. But instead of travelling to Europe and America they fled south to this place, with letters for the barbarian banks. Instead of travelling east and west they went south, thinking they could hide out here among others from China. Then, when all was forgotten, they would move on to spend the huge wealth they had at their disposal. They did not think that there would be people in this country who were followers of the Emperor and I was dispatched here to hunt them down, retrieve the papers and return to China. I found one of the men and after some persuasion he handed over his half of the papers. He then attempted to flee from me and I was forced to hunt him down. I returned to his campsite and concealed the papers before I was in turn hunted by the barbarian policeman and that black man over there. Sadly, I underestimated the black man and now I am unable to continue my mission to find the second traitor.’

  ‘Truly an interesting story and if you are telling me the truth then you do not deserve to be tried by our courts,’ Andrew said. ‘ How can you prove to me that you are telling the truth?’

  ‘If I told you where I concealed the documents I recovered,’ Tung said, ‘then you might believe me.’

  ‘Would you reveal that valuable information to a total stranger?’ Andrew queried.

  ‘You are not a total stranger,’ Tung said. ‘I can see into your soul and know that you are a good man. You have proved that already to me when you stepped in to protect me against the policeman. And besides, I have nothing to lose at the moment with these manacles holding me under the barrel of the black devil’s gun.’

  ‘If I find the evidence you say exists then I will help you escape,’ Andrew said, realising the enormous decision that he had made.

  ‘If you ride south of here you will come to a river,’ Tung said. ‘Follow the river west until you come to a bark shelter. It will be deserted and in a large log you will find a leather satchel inside that log.’