Killigrew and the Golden Dragon

by Jonathan Lunn

  If Hong Kong was the head of the opium trade, then Cap-sing-mun was its heart. Here were moored the receiving ships of the trading companies, the opium hulks: ancient merchantmen with their masts taken down and their deck houses roofed over so that they looked like the prison hulks at Woolwich and Portsmouth. The holds of the hulks acted as stores for the opium brought by clipper from Bengal and Turkey to be exchanged for green tea brought down the Pearl River Estuary by smug boat. The smug boats would off-load their cargoes on to the waiting clippers and then take on cargoes of opium from the hulks to be touted along the southern coast of China.

  Theoretically, importing opium into the Celestial Kingdom was forbidden, but there were plenty of buyers and, since the Manchus paid their mandarins poorly, expecting them to supplement their incomes with cumshaw – or ‘ squeeze’, as bribery was known – it was easy to find a prefect who could be persuaded to look the other way when opium was smuggled through his district. Occasionally the authorities in Canton would receive an order from Peking to step up their suppression of the barbarian opium smugglers. When that happened, Imperial war-junks would be sent down the Pearl River estuary, but only after the barbarians had been given plenty of warning, and only opening fire once the barbarian clippers were out of range. The authorities in Canton had borne the brunt of the war, while the Imperial Grand Council in Peking had been relatively unscathed, so the Cantonese knew better than the Dragon-Emperor’s advisers that the Celestial Kingdom could not afford to risk another war by offending the barbarians. And the China Traders made it worth the Cantonese authorities’ while to turn a blind eye when necessary.

  The opium hulks were moored in the lee of Lan-tao Island and another island off Lan-tao’s north-shore, Chek-lap-kok. Smoke curled from beneath the conical hats of chimneys, and laundry hung to dry from washing lines, a reminder that many men not only worked on board the hulks but also lived, ate and slept there. Some of the hulks were decorated with flower pots on their roofs, an indication that there were few, if any, seamen in their crew: sailors were superstitious about having flowers on ships – they considered them too reminiscent of funeral wreaths – and would not tolerate them. All hulks bore the flag of their respective trading houses, and the golden dragon of Grafton, Bannatyne & Co. fluttered from the mast of the Buchan Prayer.

  ‘There’s the Akhandata.’ Endicott pointed to where the clipper was moored a short distance away from the Framjee opium hulk, and adjusted the pinnace’s tiller accordingly. The clipper rode at anchor with all sails furled and looked curiously peaceful.

  Peri smiled sadly. ‘I would feel a good deal happier if you were coming with me, Kit.’

  ‘I wish I could come, too. But someone’s got to stay here and find Zhai Jing-mu. Once he’s been taken care of, you’ll be safe enough.’

  She shook her head. ‘How did we get into this predicament, Kit? What did we ever do to deserve this?’

  ‘It isn’t a question of deserving, Peri. Your father worked hard all his life to get himself where he is today. Some people envy that. That’s your only crime.’

  At last the pinnace bumped against the Akhandata’s hull. The side ladder was already down and Killigrew climbed up to the entry port.

  The deck was deserted.

  Killigrew could feel the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. He turned back to the pinnace. ‘Wait there. Something’s wrong. Pass me one of those shotguns, Gobinda. I’m going to look for the captain. Have you got a watch?’

  The butler nodded.

  ‘If I’m not back in two minutes, get out of here. Go back to Hong Kong, go to the Tisiphone, got that? You’ll be safe there.’

  ‘Be careful!’ called Peri.

  Killigrew nodded as he took the shotgun Gobinda passed up to him. ‘Two minutes,’ he reminded the butler, and then crossed the deck to the after-hatch.

  All was eerily silent on board the Akhandata, except for the creaking of the ship’s timbers. His finger on the shotgun’s trigger, Killigrew descended the companion way to the lower deck. There was no sign of anyone. As he tiptoed along the corridor to the captain’s quarters, something shot out of a cabin and ran over his feet. He almost jumped out of his skin.

  The cat ran up the companionway and disappeared through the hatch. Killigrew continued to the end of the corridor and laid his left hand on the doorknob. He eased back the hammers on the shotgun, wincing at each click. Then he kicked the door open and went through, moving quickly to one side, sweeping the day room with the shotgun’s twin muzzles.

  The captain, a European, sat at his table.

  Killigrew felt the tension flood out of him. ‘For Christ’s sake, Captain! What kind of a ship are you running—’ He broke off. When a stranger with a shotgun burst into a room, some kind of reaction was to be expected, but the captain just sat there, staring. Killigrew crossed the deck with two long strides and pulled the captain forwards. The man slumped across the table. There was a bloody slit in his back. He had bled, but not much: the blade must have gone straight to his heart.

  Killigrew swore and dashed back out of the cabin. He reached the foot of the companionway and was about to ascend when a shadow fell across him. He looked up, raising the shotgun along with his eyes, but it was only Gobinda.

  ‘I thought I told you to stay with Miss Dadabhoy?’ Killigrew demanded angrily.

  Gobinda took two steps down the companionway. Then his legs crumpled beneath him and he toppled forwards. Killigrew side-stepped as the butler sprawled at his feet, a dagger planted firmly between his shoulder blades.

  The lieutenant was about to launch himself up the ladder when Peri appeared at the hatch above him. And Zhai Jing-mu was beside her, holding a flintlock pistol to her head. Her face was pale and streaked with tears.

  ‘Lieutenant Killigrew,’ observed the lao-pan. ‘I hear you’ve been looking for me.’ He gave Peri a push, and followed her down.

  ‘It’s all right, Peri,’ said Killigrew, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. It looks like you won’t have to go to Bombay after all. I think we can settle this whole thing right here and now.’

  ‘That remains to be seen,’ said the lao-pan. ‘Put the shotgun down, Mr Killigrew.’

  The lieutenant was filled with loathing for Zhai Jing-mu, for using someone he cared about to get at him. He would kill the pilong without hesitation, if only he had not been terrified of hurting Peri. He had to get her safely out of the way; then he could deal with Zhai Jing-mu once and for all. ‘The girl’s done nothing to harm you. Let her go.’

  ‘I intend to. Once you’ve put the gun down.’

  Killigrew did not believe that for a moment. ‘So you can shoot her and then kill me? No can do, Zhai. Put the girl back in the pinnace and then we’ll settle this between us, just you and me.’

  The lao-pan thumbed back the hammer of his pistol. ‘Put the gun down. Or I will shoot her.’

  Killigrew shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, Zhai. Right now she’s the only thing between you and me. If you kill her, so help me, I’ll tear your heart out.’

  ‘Last chance, Lieutenant. I mean what I say.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ bluffed Killigrew. He knew that Zhai Jing-mu would not waste his only bullet on his hostage and leave himself defenceless. ‘Shoot her. She means nothing to me.’

  Zhai Jing-mu shrugged. ‘As you will.’ He pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 9

  Pipe Dreams

  The sound of the shot was deafening in the confined space below decks. Peri Dadabhoy’s face exploded outwards, her blood spattering the bulkheads. Her lifeless body toppled down the companionway.

  The horror hit Killigrew like a physical blow. He stared down at her corpse, not believing the evidence of his own eyes. He had killed her.

  ‘That is what you wanted, is it not?’ Zhai Jing-mu asked with a smirk.

  Killigrew raised his brown eyes to meet the pilong’s blue ones. His guts seethed with hatred. He brought up the b
arrels of the shotgun, determined to wipe the smile off the pilong’s face for ever. As his finger tightened on the first trigger, however, a hand shot out from his left and grabbed the barrels. The gun was tugged aside and the shot blew a hole in the bulkhead beside the lao-pan.

  A moment later something smashed into Killigrew’s jaw. He had been concentrating on Zhai Jing-mu and it had never occurred to him that the lao-pan might have an accomplice creeping up behind him. He staggered to his right and felt the shotgun pulled from his grip. As the accomplice tried to reverse the weapon, Killigrew kicked him in the stomach. The man doubled up and the second barrel discharged itself into the deck.

  Killigrew turned and ran, determined to stay alive long enough to avenge Peri.

  ‘Don’t let him escape!’ shouted Zhai Jing-mu.

  The lieutenant reached the door to the captain’s quarters. A bullet spanged over his head and smashed a hole in the glass of the stern window. He slammed the door behind him and looked about the day room. He dragged the chair from beneath the dead captain, letting the corpse sprawl on the floor, and positioned it with the back rest wedged under the doorknob. A moment later the door shuddered as someone on the other side threw his shoulder against it.

  Killigrew grabbed the table and pushed it into the middle of the room, beneath the skylight. By standing on top of the table he was able to reach the catch. He threw the skylight open and hauled himself up on deck. He crossed to the after-hatch, slammed it shut, and quickly battened it down so that no one could get up from below. He hoped it would hold long enough for what he had to do.

  He crossed to the entry port and glanced down. There was another pilong in the boat, holding a shotgun at Endicott’s throat. As Killigrew’s shadow fell across him, he glanced up and took the gun off the sailor to aim it at him. Killigrew ducked back and a moment later shot peppered the bulwark. Then he heard a groan.

  ‘Lieutenant!’ called Endicott.

  He glanced cautiously over the bulwark. The pilong was dead, a dagger thrust between his ribs. Endicott threw the shotgun up to him.

  He caught it in both hands. ‘Good work! Now get the hell out of here!’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ve got someone to take care of first. Go on, go!’

  As Endicott got the pinnace’s steam engine going again, someone hammered on the underside of the after-hatch. Killigrew ran across to the forecastle. He could see Framjee’s opium hulk less than three cables away. He waved his head above his arms, trying to get someone’s attention. Surely they had heard the shooting?

  He heard a sound behind him and saw two pilongs come up through the after-hatch. He emptied the shotgun’s other barrel at them – next to useless, at that range – jumped down the fore-hatch and found himself in a charnel house.

  There were bodies everywhere: the crew of the Akhandata, slaughtered to a man. The deck was awash with blood.

  Choking back the bile, Killigrew fumbled in his pockets for a couple of fresh cartridges. He had just snapped the breech shut when a figure appeared at the hatchway above him. He thumbed back one hammer and let the pilong have it in the chest.

  Killigrew ejected the spent cartridge, reloaded that barrel and thumbed back both hammers. How many pilongs were there on board the clipper? Enough to slaughter the entire crew. More than enough to slaughter him.

  Gasping for breath, he made his way down to the lower deck. He found what he was looking for amidships: the magazine. Even clippers needed a powder room, to supply the guns they carried as protection against pilongs. There were only three barrels of gunpowder in there: Killigrew hoped it would be enough. A kind of Viking funeral for Peri, one that Zhai Jing-mu would not live to forget. He hoped Framjee would understand.

  There were no fuses, so he had to do it the old-fashioned way, breaking open one of the barrels of powder and tipping it on its side. He could hear footsteps on the deck above him, the pilongs searching the ship for him. They had not got to the lower deck yet, but they would. He found a small pail and scooped it full of gunpowder, using it to lay a long, winding trail out of the powder room, glancing fearfully over his shoulder every few seconds.

  A footfall sounded on the deck behind him. He whirled and brought up the barrels of the shotgun. There was a pilong behind him with a crossbow.

  Killigrew fired first. The pilong fell to the deck.

  Then he heard a pistol being cocked behind him.

  He turned. Twenty feet away, Zhai Jing-mu crouched halfway down the companion ladder leading up to the next deck. He had a pistol in each hand, both levelled at Killigrew.

  ‘Drop the shotgun, Mr Killigrew. It is useless at this range.’

  ‘Those peashooters of yours aren’t going to be much better, unless you’re a damned fine shot.’

  ‘Is that a chance you are willing to take?’

  Killigrew lowered the muzzles of the shotgun to the deck, and shrugged. ‘You’re going to kill me anyway.’

  ‘Precisely so.’ Zhai Jing-mu fired.

  A searing pain lashed through the side of Killigrew’s head. He pulled the trigger of the shotgun. The muzzle flash sparked the trail of gunpowder. The powder flared and the flame raced back along the trail towards the magazine. He had the satisfaction of seeing Zhai Jing-mu’s eyes widen in horror as he realised what he had done.

  Then the pilong fired the other pistol, but in his panic the shot went wide. Zhai Jing-mu dropped both pistols and scrambled back up the companion ladder. He was halfway through the forward hatch when Killigrew caught him by the sash and pulled him back down.

  ‘Oh no you don’t, you sonuvabitch! You’re going down with the ship. Or rather, up.’

  The two of them grappled at the foot of the companionway. Killigrew grabbed hold of one of the rungs and pulled himself up to kick the pilong in the face with both feet. ‘When you get to Davy Jones’ locker, you can pay your respects to Peri!’

  Zhai Jing-mu staggered back and tripped over the coaming of the hatch leading down to the lower deck. As he fell out of sight, Killigrew ascended the last few rungs to the upper deck. He ran across the forecastle and dived over the bulwark. A moment later the Akhandata blew up.

  * * *

  ‘Here it comes.’ As the men of the Tisiphone’s starboard watch took on board barrels of water from a harbour lighter, Ågård nudged Molineaux and nodded to where Captain Morgan was being rowed out to the sloop in a gig from HMS Hastings. Rear-Admiral Collier had been laid low by an apoplectic stroke two weeks earlier and Morgan was now the senior naval officer in Hong Kong. ‘From the look on his face, someone’s going to catch it now.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Molineaux. ‘And I think I can guess who.’

  ‘Boat ahoy!’ challenged the marine sentry at the gangway.

  ‘Hastings!’ returned the gig’s coxswain.

  ‘Molineaux!’ called the boatswain’s mate. ‘Run below like one o’clock and inform Commander Robertson that Captain Morgan is coming on board.’

  ‘Aye, aye, Mr Fanning.’ Molineaux went down the after-hatch and approached the marine on duty outside Robertson’s door. ‘Message for the cap’n. Cap’n Morgan coming on board.’

  The sentry crashed the stock of his musket against the deck. ‘Message for the captain! Captain Morgan coming on board.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll be up directly,’ Robertson’s voice called out.

  ‘Tell him he’ll be—’ began the sentry.

  ‘Yeah, all right, Barnes, I think I got that,’ Molineaux replied sarcastically. He went up on deck and relayed the message to the boatswain’s mate.

  ‘All right, Molineaux, back to work.’

  Fanning piped Morgan on board and Commander Robertson met him on the quarterdeck. Neither of them smiled. ‘An unexpected pleasure, Captain,’ said Robertson.

  ‘Hardly unexpected,’ Morgan said coldly. ‘And unlikely to be a pleasure. For either of us.’

  Robertson nodded. ‘Shall we go down to my day room?’ he suggested, and shot a glance at where Moline
aux was pretending to check a cask for leaks. ‘Fewer prying ears.’

  Morgan nodded and the two of them descended through the after-hatch.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall in Tommy Pipes’s day room right now,’ said O’Connor.

  ‘Looks like you’re not the only one.’ Molineaux nodded to where two of the Tisiphone’s landsmen scrubbed the quarter-deck. The skylight over the captain’s day room was ajar and the two landsmen were taking an inordinately long time to scrub the adjacent deck.

  The boatswain’s mate saw them. ‘If you scrub that patch of deck any longer, gentlemen, you’ll fall through it!’ he snarled. ‘All right, you can leave that for now. Go and clean the head.’ He watched the two landsmen until they had reached the forecastle, and then got down on his hands and knees by the skylight. A moment later Ågård, Molineaux and O’Connor had joined him. The boatswain’s mate scowled at them, but could not tell them to leave without the captain hearing him and spoiling the game for all of them.

  ‘…don’t mind if I have one, do you, sir?’ Robertson was saying.

  ‘No, go ahead,’ replied Morgan, and crystal clinked as Robertson poured himself a drink from a decanter.

  ‘This is a very painful duty for me,’ said Morgan, when Robertson had settled down. ‘Now I know that Lieutenant Killigrew has done good work on behalf of the navy in the past, but… well, to be frank, his methods have increasingly begun to raise eyebrows in certain quarters, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Who you mean, more like.’

  ‘And his latest escapade only seems to confirm what they’ve been saying. Frankly, Robertson, to me it looks like the proverbial last straw. The question is, what are we going to do about it?’