John E. Ward arrived at the appointed spot, expecting to be greeted as befitted an ambassador representing a vigorous and powerful nation. He was disappointed. There were many Chinese on the shore, curious at the arrival of a Fan Qui, but no one in obvious authority, and no sign of an escort.
Just as Ward was beginning to think there had been some mistake, a minor Chinese mandarin made his way through the crowd. Behind him was a small, enclosed carrying-cart. Had Ward been more familiar with the Chinese, the conveyance itself would have given him a strong indication of what he could expect from his hosts.
Carrying-carts used for important officials and mandarins were kept newly painted. The bright blues, reds and gold were intended to reflect the status of the occupier. They were also large enough for the passenger to enjoy a degree of comfort.
The carrying-cart sent for Ambassador Ward had once been painted in a drab green, but it had not felt the touch of a paint brush for many seasons. It was small, even by Chinese standards, and the frame of the ambassador would be extremely cramped.
It was an inauspicious beginning to a journey that would take him almost a hundred miles to the near-legendary capital city of Peking.
The journey, part overland, part by canal, was one the United States ambassador would forever wish to forget. For the whole of the way he was subjected to subtle yet continuous humiliation. The accommodation along the way was of a low standard and not especially clean. Food offered to him was poorly presented and uncertain in quality. Despite such treatment, Ward reminded himself he was suffering for America. The resulting treaty would justify all the discomfort he might endure on the journey.
Ambassador Ward had been looking forward to seeing the sights of the great Chinese city. To his great disappointment he was lodged in a small house surrounded by walls so tall he could not even see over them into the next garden.
Ward was kept waiting for some days before an interpreter came to the house. With unbecoming arrogance the very junior official announced that His Imperial Highness, Emperor Hsien Feng, would give the Fan Qui ambassador an audience the following morning.
No time was mentioned but the ambassador was up at dawn. Carefully putting on the plumed hat and braid-bedecked uniform, he looked in the mirror and saw the reflection of a man who was attired as befitted the representative of a great nation.
By mid-afternoon the uniform had lost its crispness and even the impressive plumes had wilted in the humid heat.
John E. Ward was a patient man, but his patience with his hosts was wearing thin. He was beginning to realise why the ambassadors of Britain and France had refused to put themselves in Chinese hands for the journey to the capital.
It was early evening before the summons came. After such a long wait even the splendour of the Emperor’s impressive palace with its numerous courtyards and layered pagodas could not totally dispel Ward’s uncomfortable mood.
He was shown into a long room hung with silken curtains and richly coloured tapestries. At the far end, seated on a golden throne, was the man few other Europeans had seen. Richly clad in a dragon-embroidered robe that matched his throne, the slightly built Emperor wore an abstracted expression. Ward thought it was almost as though he was drugged.
Suddenly, from behind him, the interpreter called in a shrill voice, ‘On your knees. Kow-tow!’
Ward half turned, his surprise giving way to renewed anger. He knew about the custom of kow-towing. Every one of the Emperor’s subjects was expected to throw himself to the ground when in the Imperial presence. It was a gesture of total submission to the will of the man occupying the dragon throne.
‘Down!’
This time the near-hysterical order was accompanied by a blow across the ambassador’s shoulders with a gold-embellished cane held in the hand of one of the courtiers.
‘You will kow-tow. Now!’
Suddenly, all John E. Ward’s diplomatic ambitions fell away. He was once more the man who had dominated Georgia courtrooms, and swayed political rallies with his oratory.
‘Sir!’ The ambassador seemed to grow in stature as he spoke. ‘I bend my knee only for my God, or before a woman. I’m damned if I’ll throw myself on the ground for some puffed-up popinjay!’
‘Things are beginning to happen in Hong Kong. When I left news had been received from England that a General Grant had been appointed as commander-in-chief. He’s coming to lead an army against the Chinese and open the way to Peking. It’s rumoured that Lord Elgin will return as ambassador to take charge of the diplomatic side of things. It’s said you British are committing twenty thousand troops and the French almost as many. It looks as though your government is determined on a show-down with the Chinese this time. Do you think you’ll be fit enough to take part … not as a combat officer, of course, but on the commander-in-chief’s staff?’
The news was passed to Kernow by Caleb Shumaker at a dinner attended by about a dozen guests at the house of Consul Merrill in Shanghai. The American military attaché had arrived from Hong Kong only that day and had lost no time in calling at his fiancée’s home.
Caleb was based in Hong Kong, but spent as much time as his duties would permit in Shanghai. He doted on Sally. On his frequent visits to the house he would follow her around like an affectionate puppy.
Caleb was not happy that Kernow had remained as a guest in the house for so long, but was far too much of a gentleman to insult a guest of the Merrill family. However, he could not help being jealous of the easy relationship that had grown up between his fiancée and the young Royal Marine officer. It had been bad enough when Kernow was confined to bed, but he was able to walk now, although he still limped badly.
‘Admiral Hope came visiting when he was in Shanghai a fortnight ago. He said we could expect some action in this part of the world now the mutiny in India is finally over. I suggested I should come back to headquarters on light duties, but he insisted I wait until I’m fully fit.’
Observing the young American’s disappointment, Kernow had difficulty hiding his amusement. For his part, he was more comfortable in the acting consul’s house than he had been at any time during his service career. He had been on the sick list now for a full six months, during which time his promotion to Captain had been confirmed. He was eager to take command of a Royal Marines company as soon as he was able, but realised he was not yet up to taking on an active duty commitment.
Meanwhile the relationship between Kernow and Sally Merrill, although close and affectionate, was one of brother and sister rather than anything else. Sally was the sort of girl Kernow would have liked to have had for a sister.
When she looked at Kernow, Sally was reminded of Houston, the brother she had adored. He had met a tragic death in a riding accident in America when she was twelve years old.
‘How about you Americans? Are you going to take an active part in any war?’
Caleb Shumaker grimaced. ‘There’s nothing I’d like more. After the way poor John Ward was treated I feel we should join in and teach the Chinese a lesson, but our war department doesn’t agree. Besides, back in the United States the breach between us Southerners and them Yankees up north is widening. While there’s the likelihood of trouble in our own country we’d be foolish to get mixed up in a war out here.’
Both Caleb Shumaker and Consul Merrill were from the Southern States of America and for the next hour the talk around the table was of the problems facing the United States.
They were still talking around the dining table when Kernow excused himself. He made his way from the cigar smoke of the room and went outside to enjoy a few minutes in the fresh air.
He was in time to intercept a European making his way from the gate towards the house.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Maybe. Is this the home of the American consul?’ The stranger spoke with an accent not unlike that of Sally Merrill.
‘That’s right. He’s inside with some friends. What’s your name? I’ll tell him you’re here.’
&
nbsp; ‘No.’ The word came quickly. ‘My name doesn’t matter and I don’t want to see the consul. I’ve got a letter for someone I believe is staying here.’
‘Who’s that, Caleb Shumaker? He’s inside…’.
‘That’s not him. The letter’s for a Kernow Keats. Lieutenant Kernow Keats.’
Kernow was startled. Who could possibly be sending him a letter via this unknown man? ‘That’s me. But … who’s it from?’
The stranger’s teeth gleamed white in the darkness. ‘I’m sure you’ll learn all you need to know from the letter, friend, although you might find the news a little out of date. I was told I’d find you in Hong Kong. It wasn’t until I got there I learned you were here, in Shanghai. I’ll bid you good night.’
‘Wait! At least tell me your name.’
The unknown American was already walking away towards the gate of the house and his name came back to Kernow from the darkness.
‘Erin Veasey.’
Chapter 15
IN THE LIGHT cast by the lamp in his room, Kernow looked at the bold writing on the envelope of the somewhat crumpled letter he was holding. It was a hand he did not recognise.
Tearing open the envelope he turned to the signature first and gasped in surprise. It was from Esme Pilkington.
Concerned that it contained bad news about She-she, he began to read.
Dear Lieutenant Keats,
It has been almost eight months now since you asked me to take She-she into my care and protect her for as long as she remained in Nanking. I am happy to tell you I was able to bring her into the palace of the Tien Wang and keep her in safety. It was easier once Chang had taken his authorised quota of wives. However, I have heard he is now collecting an assortment of concubines (so much for his Christian principles!) and I will ensure She-she keeps out of his way.
She-she is a dear girl who has proved invaluable in what painfully little progress I am able to report from here. She has been a veritable tower of strength to me during some very difficult times. Needless to say, I have grown very fond of her. For this reason and the love I know you have for She-she I must ask you to find some way to bring us both out of Nanking as quickly as possible without putting yourself in danger.
The situation in the palace has changed alarmingly. I no longer feel that by remaining here I am able to serve the best interests of the Lord. Indeed, my continued presence might even be used to propagate the very aspects of Taiping doctrine which are particularly repugnant to those of us with true Christian ideals.
Because this note is written in great haste I am unable to tell you of our problems in any detail. Indeed, as I am sending it by the hand of a senior Chinese official who has always been loyal to the Emperor, it is by no means certain it will ever reach you. I can only, as always, put my faith in God and trust that He, and She-she’s brave lieutenant, will find a way to rescue us from what has become a virtual prison.
Your most humble servant,
Esme Pilkington
Esme’s brief letter filled Kernow with dismay. The large, bluff missionary was not a woman to plead for help without very good reason. He wondered what could have happened. She appeared to have abandoned all the missionary ideals that had taken her to Nanking in the first place.
What alarmed him even more was the time that had elapsed since Esme had written her plea for rescue. Erin Veasey had said he had been carrying the letter for some time….
Only the men remained at the table when Kernow limped hurriedly into the dining room. The women had found the cloying cigar smoke too much for them.
‘Does anyone here know of an American by the name of Erin Veasey?’
Consul Merrill frowned, both at the manner in which Kernow had entered the room and because of the question. But one of the guests, a wealthy American merchant, was already answering Kernow.
‘I’ve never met the man personally, but he’s earned himself something of a reputation among the seafaring community. They say he’ll take a cargo anywhere, for anyone – at a price, of course. There’s a strong rumour that he’s been running guns to the Taipings, but nobody’s been able to prove it. Haven’t the rumours reached you, Consul?’
Merrill nodded. ‘They have, together with a great many more. What’s your sudden interest in the man, Kernow?’
‘I need to find him. Urgently. Does anyone know where he stays when he’s in Shanghai?’
‘Probably on board his ship – or among the shanties in the suburbs, beneath the wall. That’s where most of the seafarers spend their time. Many of the Chinese are running very profitable businesses there, selling cheap liquor to the sailors. That’s something I wanted to talk to you about, Consul. We could attract a lot of business here by building a reputable saloon….’
Kernow did not stay to hear the remainder of the merchant’s suggestion. When he met Sally as he crossed the hallway to the door he was shrugging himself into a quilted jacket.
‘Where are you going? Has Caleb said anything to upset you?’
‘Nobody’s said anything. I just need to go out, that’s all.’
‘Do you want me to come with you? Get you a sedan?’
‘No, Sally. I’ve got to begin walking on my own again. Now seems the right time to make a start. I’ll tell you more about it in the morning.’
As Kernow walked away in the darkness the picture of Sally and her expression of deep concern remained with him. She was fond of him, and it was comforting to have someone around who cared. But he could not confide in anyone until he knew exactly what he was going to do.
Kernow crossed the bridge leading from the American ground to the foreign settlement housing the British. He had walked a quarter of a mile and covered half the distance to the high wall of the city that towered above the sprawling suburbs. His leg was aching and he was wishing he had accepted Sally’s offer to call a sedan. But he knew that while he waited for the carrying-chair to be brought to the door he would need to tell her why he was walking off into the night. The fewer people who knew what he had only half planned, the better it would be.
By the time he reached the suburbs, Kernow was limping worse than he had for a month or more. Although it was winter, the pain in the bone of his upper leg had caused him to break out in a sweat.
The Chinese were used to seeing Europeans here. He twice had to shake off the hands of wheedling men who wanted to guide him to: ‘Fine grog shop, plenty girls….’
The bars where the European seamen were drinking were not hard to find. His experience with marines had taught him that whenever they found a place to drink they also developed an overpowering urge to sing. The Shanghai suburbs proved no exception. Nevertheless, he had seldom seen men ‘enjoying’ themselves in such squalid surroundings.
He found Erin Veasey drinking in the third grog shop he looked inside. This one, at least, was more salubrious than the others. The dirt floor was clean and it was quieter than either of the other two.
Kernow was not aware the American sea captain had seen him but, as he reached the table, the American stretched out a hand for his drink. Without looking up, he said, ‘You looking for me, Mister Keats?’
‘I am. You brought me a letter. I want to talk about it with you.’
Without a word to the other men at the table, or to Kernow, Erin Veasey picked up a near full bottle. With it in one hand and a half-empty glass in the other he lose from the seat. He walked to a table from which two seamen and two Chinese girls rose and disappeared through a curtained doorway at the rear of the grog shop.
‘Will you have a drink with me?’
Kernow nodded and sank to the wooden bench on the far side of the table from Erin Veasey. He was greatly relieved to take the weight off his scarcely healed leg.
As the sea captain waved for another glass, he said, ‘You still suffering from the wounds you received when you tried to take the Pei-ho forts?’
Kernow nodded. ‘That’s right, but I haven’t come here to talk about me. The letter you brought contains
some disturbing news. Are you still trading upriver to Nanking?’
The hand pouring a drink from the bottle into the glass that had been placed in front of Kernow was rock-steady. ‘Now what sort of question is that, Mister Keats? You know that trading with the Taipings is forbidden by both my government and yours.’
‘Don’t play games with me, Mister Veasey. This is far too important. I need to get to Nanking. I have to get there.’
‘Just a minute now. Even if I was trading up to Nanking – and that’s not an admission – even if I was, it isn’t a trip for passengers. A year or two back it might have been all right. Not now.’
‘Then sign me on as crew to Nanking and back.’
‘You’re mighty anxious, Mister Keats. You mind telling me what was in that letter I brought you?’
‘Two friends are having some trouble in Nanking. They need to be brought out.’
‘More passengers … and from Nanking? Just who are these friends?’
‘A missionary and a Chinese girl.’
‘You talking of Esme Pilkington and young She-she?’
Kernow was so startled he spilled the drink he was carrying to his mouth. ‘How do you know? Have you read my letter?’
Erin Veasey smiled. ‘I don’t need to read anyone’s letters. Since we’ve stopped playing games … I first met them, and Kau-lin, on the boat from Hong Kong to Shanghai a couple of years back. It was me who took them on to Nanking. What’s happening that makes it so urgent they need to come out in a hurry?’
‘I don’t know.’ After a moment’s hesitation, Kernow pulled the brief letter from his pocket and passed it across the table.
Erin Veasey’s eyebrows arched a couple of times as he read. Then he passed the letter back.
‘That doesn’t sound like the Esme Pilkington I took to Nanking. She was full of confidence then. Was going to take orthodox Christianity to the whole of the Taiping movement.’
The Blue Dress Girl Page 27
