A Place of Birds

by Jane Jackson

  He turned, a dark silhouette against the faint glow from the day cabin skylight. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s just – I wondered –’ why won’t you talk to me? ‘– if you are from a seafaring family.’ It seemed an age before he spoke.

  ‘No. My father runs a large merchant house in Shanghai. We even have a branch in London. He considers himself a very astute businessman.’ Sarcasm glinted like a splinter of broken glass beneath the weariness that thickened his voice.

  ‘My father claims,’ Susanna ventured, ‘that the secret of success in business is to create a demand, then fill it. Does your father deal in tea or silk? Or jade perhaps?’ This tiny clue to his background – of which she knew so little – brought home to her how keenly she missed his company and the cut and thrust of their conversations. He was the first man she had ever talked to in any depth – her conversations with Edward had been confined to Infirmary matters – and he was certainly the first to rate her opinions worthy of serious consideration.

  ‘He’s dealt in all of them,’ came the laconic reply ‘And porcelain. But the company started life trading something far more lucrative – opium.’

  A quick intake of breath betrayed her initial shock. It was followed by horror, and terrible disappointment.

  ‘Oh no.’ Her voice quavered. ‘How could you be involved in something so evil?’

  ‘I’m n –’ he clamped his mouth shut. After a moment he enquired coolly, ‘Considering your own family’s connections with opium smuggling, aren’t you being rather hypocritical?’

  ‘What? Don’t be ridiculous. What are you talking about?’

  ‘Have you heard of the Opium Wars in China?’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  ‘Do you know who was British Superintendent of Trade in Canton when the Chinese first declared war on Britain over the import of opium in 1839? Captain Charles Elliot. A kinsman of yours.’ The words fell like hammer blows. ‘He used his position to protect British ships bringing opium from India into Chinese waters, even though he knew trading in the drug was illegal.’

  Stunned, speechless, Susanna stared at him. Yet it never occurred to her to accuse him of lying. He wouldn’t. But a member of her family? Her father had spoken out many times and with great eloquence against what he called ‘the filthy traffic in degradation and human misery’. Her kinsman? With an inarticulate cry she brushed past him and flung herself through the hatch.

  As she clattered down the companionway he glared in anguish at the coldly mocking stars. It was the only way. He must drive her away, turn her against him.

  That his marriage was a sham was something only he and Marjorie knew. Both were aware of his reputation among the ladies of Shanghai’s International Settlement: not only was he an accomplished lover he was also – so important to those with difficult husbands – exceptionally discreet. But they both ignored it. She because as long as she was his wife her position in society was unassailable. He because he simply didn’t care what people thought of him.

  Until now. His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached. Susanna Elliot was only nineteen and under the guardianship of her cousins. He was not free to court her. And no matter how much he might desire it – and her – an affair was out of the question. A bitter smile twisted mouth. Of all the times to discover a conscience.

  But he had no choice. Any hint of scandal would finish the Braithwaites’ mission before it had even started. Regardless of his opinion of their venture, they didn’t deserve that.

  Nor did she.

  ‘Lucy,’ Susanna blurted in a frantic whisper as the door opened to her urgent tapping. ‘Did you know about Lowell’s father? Is Lowell involved in it too? He says one of our relatives –’

  ‘Ssshhh.’ Stepping into the cramped stairwell Lucy pulled the door closed behind her. ‘Now, what is all this about? Slowly.’

  Susanna repeated what he’d told her. ‘Was Captain Elliot really on the side of the opium traders?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Susanna knew a moment’s unutterable relief before questions crowded in. She pushed them aside to concentrate on what Lucy was saying.

  ‘His job was to protect British shipping from harassment by the Chinese. But the mandarins employed by the Emperor to stop the opium smuggling were making even more money by turning a blind eye and allowing it to continue. This forced Captain Elliot into the unenviable position of having to support and protect his own countrymen while they acted illegally.’

  ‘So what did he do?’

  ‘It all came to a head when the Emperor appointed a special Commissioner and gave him a free hand to stop the trade in opium once and for all. Commissioner Lin imprisoned all the British in their factories. He blockaded the street, surrounded the buildings with soldiers, and forbade any Chinese on pain of death to give them food or fuel. You see the British were only allowed to do business in Canton on condition that Chinese merchants stood security for them. When two of the wealthiest and most important of these merchants were paraded in full view of the factories with chains around their necks – implying their lives would be forfeit if the British didn’t surrender – Captain Elliot gave the order for all the opium in the factories to be handed over to the Chinese authorities.’

  ‘And the prisoners were released?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘But the Emperor banished all the British, including Captain Elliot, from Canton.’

  ‘What happened to the opium?’

  ‘It was shovelled into water-filled trenches then spread with salt and lime to make it rot.’

  ‘But –’ Susanna rubbed her throbbing forehead. ‘Lowell implied Captain Elliot was on the side of the opium smugglers. Why would he do that?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Lucy suggested quietly, ‘because you jumped to conclusions about him? Lowell chose a life at sea rather than join his father’s company. He has always refused to carry opium on his ships. I believe these decisions cost him dearly.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I can’t tell you any more than that.’

  ‘Lucy, please. Surely you must have heard something?’

  ‘Only gossip at family gatherings. If Lowell wants you to know he’ll tell you himself.’

  ‘He won’t,’ Susanna murmured in despair. ‘He doesn’t talk to me any more.’ She turned blindly away before Lucy could ask questions for which she had no answers.

  15th April. Lowell accepted my apology. But nothing has changed. I don’t know what to do.

  Staring at the words she had just written, blurred now by tears, Susanna closed her journal.

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ Meredith emerged from the companionway. Her eyes had a fevered brilliance. ‘I wondered where you’d got to. I don’t seem to have seen you for such a long time.’

  The reminder that they had spoken less than an hour ago dried on Susanna’s tongue as she watched her cousin make her way to the shade of the awning. The ship was stable on an almost calm sea, yet Meredith clung and stumbled and lurched as if … as if she couldn’t feel her feet on the deck.

  An image of the almost empty chloral hydrate bottle flashed across Susanna’s mind. Fear for her cousin cramped her stomach.

  ‘This heat is terribly draining,’ Meredith’s normally crisp diction was slurred. ‘It makes me quite dizzy. I’ve had a headache for three days now. Lucy insisted I come up for a breath of fresh air. I think I’d have been better lying down. I love my sister dearly, but she does fuss. And always about the wrong things. Still, it’s not long now. Only another two weeks till we reach Shanghai. I must admit I’ll be glad to be back on dry land. This has not been a pleasant experience. In fact, if I’d realised –’ she cut herself off with a glassy smile. ‘But I mustn’t complain. God wouldn’t give us burdens heavier than we can bear. Would he?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Susanna lied.

  ‘One must be worthy, you see, to undertake … Only I’ve felt so inadequate.’ Taking a deep breath she squared her shoulders, widening the grotesque smile. ‘But I’
m much better now.’ She looked around vaguely. ‘And what have you been doing with yourself all these weeks? I hope you’ve kept busy. The devil makes work for idle hands.’

  29th April. Only a few hours now and we will be at our destination. The blue waters of the Pacific have turned thick and cloudy …

  ‘It’s mud,’ Tom Binney explained. ‘Washed off the plains bordering the Yangtze. That’s why they call this the Yellow Sea.’ As officer of the watch he was standing near the compass. Behind him two able seamen clung to the wheel, holding the schooner on course as she raced forward on the heavy swell.

  There were other vessels in sight; steam ships puffing black smoke from their funnels, square-riggers twice and three times the size of the schooner, and odd-looking craft with high square sterns and two masts, each supporting a huge slatted sail.

  Susanna clutched her journal. Though Lowell’s coolness and distance were torture, she dreaded reaching Shanghai.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  As the schooner sailed up the Woosung river towards Shanghai, Susanna felt chilled to her soul in spite of her thick cloak of heavy brown wool.

  She gazed listlessly at the stilt-legged birds stalking about on the mud banks thrusting long curved bills into the soft yellow-grey ooze. Above a line of debris marking the high tide, houses of mud brick roofed with straw clustered close together.

  As the schooner rounded a bend the clouds parted to reveal a sky the colour of cornflowers. Sunshine streamed down on a scene of such vitality that her misery was momentarily eclipsed by awe.

  ‘Some sight, isn’t it?’ Tom Binney grinned. The river ahead was crowded. Huge five-masted barques rode at anchor in mid-stream. Smart steamers with tall funnels chugged towards landing stages. Schooners, mat-sailed lorchas, sampans, water-taxis and junks with large eyes painted on the bow for good luck all wove complex patterns across the teeming water.

  Susanna’s nose wrinkled at the pervasive smell of sewage, fish, rotting vegetables, incense, smoke, and hot cooking oil.

  Shallow barges containing bulging sacks of grain were poled along by lean men with leathery skin and eyes slitted against the sun’s glare. Above gnarled bare feet they wore knee length ragged trousers, baggy wrap-over jackets held in place by a knotted sash, and shallow conical hats.

  A narrow houseboat, propelled by a single long oar, crossed almost under the schooner’s bows. Small round faces thatched with straight black hair peeped out from the crude cabin made of woven mats fastened over a half-hoop bamboo frame. The instant they saw Susanna the children hid behind their mother who squatted by a wooden tub, washing clothes.

  Lucy emerged from the companionway her drawn face brightening. ‘Goodness me, what a view.’ Meredith followed with obvious reluctance.

  Before them lay the panoramic sweep of the British Settlement, breathtaking in its grandeur.

  ‘Falmouth has nothing like this,’ Susanna murmured gazing in awe at majestic stone buildings several stories high and topped by clock towers and cupolas. ‘Oh Lucy, I wish Will was here.’ She spoke without thinking, the words born of loneliness and immediately regretted. Pressing her arm Lucy said nothing.

  ‘What’s that dreadful smell?’ Meredith grimaced.

  ‘Er – fertilizer,’ Susanna replied. ‘Apparently the Chinese spread all animal and human waste on the fields to enrich the soil and produce better crops.’

  Meredith groaned. ‘Did you have to tell me?’

  As well as Banks, hotels, and offices belonging to important trading companies, they could see private houses surrounded by gardens full of spring flowers and blossoming trees. Behind these loomed the larger shapes of two churches.

  ‘What’s that?’ Lucy pointed to a building with a long elegant facade and wide lawns.

  ‘The British Consulate,’ Tom Binney answered from the compass. ‘They hold all the Mail there. Coming by steamer it arrives before we do.’

  Lucy sighed. ‘We’re here at last.’ Meredith’s face betrayed momentary terror. Lucy patted her hand. ‘It’ll be all right.’

  Would it? Susanna wondered, and was immediately swamped by guilt. There would be difficulties enough without her anticipating more. She scanned the deck, her heart lurching as she saw Lowell’s broad back.

  Talking to the mate he glanced at his watch then indicated the holds. Fighting an anguish that was almost unbearable she gripped the jade medallion and turned away to stare at a waterfront humming with activity.

  All along the granite-faced embankment, jetties and wharves jutted out into the river. At some the boats were moored three or four abreast. Labourers scurried to and fro like columns of ants loading and unloading.

  The noise was incredible. Everyone shouted and she heard several different languages. Steamer sirens wailed and hooted. Adding to the din were the squeals of winches, shrieking gulls, and the rumble of wheelbarrows along the wooden landing stages.

  ‘I think we should go below and make sure all our baggage is ready to be put ashore,’ Lucy said. ‘Lowell will have a great deal to do. We mustn’t delay him from his own business.’ Unable to speak, Susanna gave a brief nod and led the way down.

  Half an hour later, the schooner made fast, she stood to one side as her cousins said goodbye to Lowell Hawke. Her mind felt like a creature trapped, hurling itself against the bars of a cage, desperately seeking a way out. There had to be a key, something that would make it all right. But she didn’t know what it was. So she bit the inside of her lip, tasting blood, as she waited to utter the one word she would have given anything not to say.

  ‘Goodbye, Susanna.’

  She couldn’t meet his eye. Couldn’t allow him to see. With lowered lashes she took his hand for the second and last time, felt briefly its warm strength, and the loss as he released it. Swallowing the painful stiffness in her throat she forced the word out. ‘Goodbye.’ A pathetic sound, little more than a croak. But it didn’t matter because he was already turning towards the companionway.

  After three months on board ship it took a while to adjust to solid ground under her feet. Before she reached the end of the jetty her head was pounding. There were so many people. Well-dressed men strode to and fro along the wide jetties, busy and purposeful as they issued orders to staff trotting alongside. She heard American and German accents as well as clipped British tones.

  Two white-turbanned Indians took leave of each other. One wore a tunic-style coat of emerald green and baggy white trousers. The other was resplendent in crimson. Bowing over hands pressed palm-together, the one in red said a few words. Susanna had heard them before from a Friend who had travelled with the first official delegation to India. It was a proverb that, roughly translated, meant providence will provide. The other raised his eyes heavenward and sighed.

  ‘Lucy,’ Meredith hissed behind her. ‘Why are there so many Chinese? I thought this was a British settlement.’

  Looking around Susanna realised she was right. The labourers unloading the ships were Chinese. So were the Aladdin-hatted coolies pulling rickshahs and strange-looking wheelbarrows that had a single large wheel, two long handles, and a flat platform. Some were laden with goods. Others carried Chinese women and children who sat on the platform with their legs dangling over the edge. She glimpsed one piled high with lantern-shaped cages, each containing a small bird.

  Clerks wearing high-necked knee-length tunics over wide trousers continually kow-towed as if hinged at the waist. Sleek compradors – identified by Tom Binney as the treasurers, accountants and secretaries to western businessmen – glided by with half-shaved heads and long pigtails, dressed in rich silks embroidered with Chinese characters.

  At the end of the jetty they stepped onto a wide flagged pavement edging a broad road thronged with rickshahs, hansoms, and gleaming two-horse carriages attended by coachmen and grooms in colourful livery.

  The crewmen piled their luggage into the nearest cab on the rank, sketched quick salutes accompanied by cheery grins, and turned back to the ship rubbing their hands
at the prospect of a run ashore.

  ‘Mr Hudson Taylor’s residence, please,’ Meredith directed the cab driver. When he shrugged, his expression uncomprehending, she flung up her hands. ‘This is ridiculous. The man doesn’t even understand English.’

  Lucy leaned forward. ‘The China Inland Mission?’ she enunciated carefully.

  With no discernible change of expression the driver clicked his tongue urging the horse into a trot and turned left into a wide road with shops and offices on either side. Some proclaimed their ownership and business with elegantly lettered signs in English. Others had flags and banners painted with Chinese characters fluttering from long poles. Beneath these, hanging in the open doorways, hung beautifully crafted bamboo cages.

  Though the birds inside trilled and sang Susanna found the sight heartrending and looked quickly away, only to be awed by the brocaded satins and silk taffetas of European ladies promenading in the afternoon sunshine.

  She had never seen such rich fabrics, or such glorious shades of mauve, buttercup yellow, pearl grey, rose, turquoise and periwinkle blue. There wasn’t a crinoline to be seen. Every woman was wearing the new fashionable bustle, the overskirt caught up at the sides to reveal toning or contrasting flounces and frills.

  Amid the feminine finery, Naval uniforms emblazoned with gold braid rubbed shoulders with superbly cut frock coats. Silk scarves, silver-topped canes, the flash of a diamond cravat-pin, and ruby cuff-links gleaming on snowy linen like drops of blood proclaimed their wearers men of substance.

  As the cab drew up outside a gate Susanna looked out. ‘I don’t think he understood you, Lucy. According to the board this is the Friends’ Mission.’

  The cab driver looked over his shoulder pointing to the house. ‘You go.’

  ‘This isn’t where we’re supposed to be,’ Meredith moaned. ‘Why has he brought us here?’