Killigrew and the Golden Dragon

by Jonathan Lunn

  ‘I’ll deal with it,’ he told her. ‘Can you swim?’

  ‘A little,’ she said.

  Glancing down, he saw she did not have bound feet. ‘Go down to the stern – you know which way that is?’ She nodded, to his relief: he did not have time for lengthy explanations. ‘Go down to the stern and swim across to the British warship two hundred yards astern. Use the cable to pull yourself along if you must. They’ll look after you there.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I have to have a word with Prince Tan.’

  He accompanied her back to the deck below and watched from the bottom of the stairs as she hurried along the passage and disappeared through the curtained doorway leading on to the stern gallery. At his feet, the bound and gagged men struggled powerlessly. He ignored them and climbed back up the companionway to the upper deck.

  He peered through a bead curtain covering the entrance to one of the compartments on the port side of the houseboat, facing towards the waterfront. The shell gun was there, pointing towards a door which opened out amidships towards the stand on the wharf. Only a silk curtain, tied down to prevent it from flapping in a breeze, hid it from any prying eyes ashore.

  A team of ten Chinese were readying the gun and they had obviously been well drilled. The gun itself was an unfamiliar make, although the operation seemed simple enough: the percussion lock hit a priming tube in the breech to fire a shell. A box of fifty-six-pound hollow shells stood close by, and another of flannel-wrapped cartridges.

  Killigrew stepped through the bead curtain. ‘All right, gentlemen,’ he said in Cantonese. ‘That’s quite enough of that. This festival already has all the fireworks it needs. Step away from the gun, please.’ He gestured with the musket and the Triads backed towards the far partition.

  Prince Tan stepped through behind them, flanked by two more guards.

  ‘What is going on here?’ he demanded. Then he saw Killigrew, and smiled. ‘Ah, my barbarian son. I think, in my heart, I was expecting you to come sooner or later.’

  ‘It took me a while, your highness, but I got here in the end. Tell your men to stand down. It’s all over. Zhai Jing-mu is dead, Bannatyne’s vanished; we know all about your plan to spark off a war between Britain and China. It isn’t going to work. I’m afraid—’ Killigrew broke off when he felt the cold touch of a gun muzzle against the back of his neck. ‘Ah.’

  * * *

  Molineaux swam back along the length of the cable to the Tisiphone’s stern. Robertson and Hartcliffe waited for him at the entry port. ‘Where’s Killigrew, Molineaux?’

  ‘He went aboard, sir. Wanted to confront his excellency in person.’

  ‘Damned young fool. Well, as long as we pull the boat clear.’ Robertson checked his watch. ‘Three minutes to go. Now that’s what I call in the nick of time. Go below and tell Mr Muir to start the engines, Molineaux. Full speed ahead.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ The seaman descended by the main hatch to the engine room where the stokers sweated to keep the furnaces burning and the pressure in the boiler just right. It was dark, hot and smoky in the engine room and the air was thick with coal dust. Molineaux would not have been a stoker for – he grimaced at the thought – all the tea in China. ‘Turn ahead, full speed, sir,’ he told Muir.

  The engineer checked the pressure gauge, nodded, and hauled back a lever. Steam hissed and the pistons started to work: slowly at first, then faster and faster. He could not hear the sound of the paddles plashing above the racket of the engine, but he could tell from the motion of the deck beneath his feet that they were moving.

  There came a loud snap followed by a clang, and a ghastly screech of rending metal. Something ricocheted past his head and bounced off the boiler casing. Muir swore and hauled on a lever. The pistons slowed and stopped until the engine room was silent but for the hiss of steam.

  ‘What’s wrong, sir?’ demanded Molineaux.

  ‘Connecting rod’s broke. Damn it!’

  ‘You can fix it, can’t you?’

  ‘Oh, aye. I can fix it, all right. It’ll take a few weeks, but I can fix it.’

  ‘A few weeks! Sir, we’ve got about one minute. Then it’ll be war.’ Molineaux sprinted for the upper deck to tell Robertson what had happened, but he knew he would be too late. There was no time to put a boat in the water and send a squad of marines and bluejackets to the houseboat. Now it was all up to Killigrew.

  Chapter 19

  Fire and Water

  ‘You think our plan is foiled?’ Prince Tan asked Killigrew, who stood with his hands tied above his head to a beam while one of the Triads kept him covered with a pistol. ‘Zhai Jing-mu was expendable. He had played his part; he was no more than a pawn. He kept you chasing about the seas while the real plot was taking place right here in Hong Kong, my barbarian son.’

  The Triads finished priming the shell gun. ‘Is it lined up?’ asked Tan.

  One of them cut a slit in the silk curtain before the gun’s muzzle and peered through. ‘Right on target, excellency.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  A single pistol shot sounded, startling Killigrew, and a moment later a terrific din went up from the waterfront as the crowd began to beat their drums, cymbals, pots and pans.

  The race had begun.

  ‘In just a few moments, as the winning dragon boats cross the finishing line, we shall fire the first shot in the second phase of the great war between Britain and the Celestial Kingdom, and what was started ten years ago will finally be brought to a satisfactory conclusion,’ said Tan. ‘Two centuries of Ch’ing tyranny will be brought to an end and in time the rightful Ming emperors will be restored to the Dragon Throne.’

  Killigrew knew that all he had to do was to keep Tan talking until the Tisiphone pulled the houseboat clear of the wharf. He was sure it could not be long now. ‘Let me guess. You just happen to be a direct descendant of the Ming Dynasty?’

  ‘A fact my ancestors have kept concealed from their Manchu overlords for over two hundred years. Oh, there are other men with a better claim on the Dragon Throne than mine, but it should not be too difficult to ensure they die heroically fighting the Manchu tyranny in our glorious war.’

  ‘You think the Manchus are tyrants? You don’t know the meaning of the word tyranny, Tan. You start a new dynasty drenched in blood, and that’s the way it will be for ever.’

  ‘Barbarian blood, Mr Killigrew. Do not think you can dissuade me from this course of action. My whole destiny had led up to this moment.’

  ‘Excellency!’ one of the Triads whispered urgently, and nodded to the doorway leading aft. Killigrew followed their gaze and saw Li Cheng standing there.

  ‘Prince Tan? In the name of the Daoguang Emperor I arrest you for high treason,’ said Li. ‘Tell your men to put down their weapons and release the barbarian.’

  Tan stared at him incredulously. ‘You came alone? Unarmed?’

  Li bowed.

  The Triads stared at him, and then burst out laughing. ‘Kill him,’ Tan said dismissively.

  One of the Triads pulled a pistol from his sash and pointed it at Li’s forehead. Li’s leg flashed out and kicked the pistol into the air. He punched the man in the throat and then caught the pistol on the way down. He used it to shoot the man who held a pistol on Killigrew.

  Two Triads drew swords and charged at Li. He threw the pistol at the head of one, knocking him out, and then caught the other by the wrists to stay the blow. A third Triad came at him. Still holding the second at bay, Li kicked him in the chest and threw him back across the room.

  Another Triad drew a sword. Killigrew grabbed hold of the ropes binding his hands above his head and hauled himself up to kick the Triad between the shoulder blades with both feet. The Triad staggered into a man who had been lining up a pistol-shot at Li. The shot went wide, drilling a third man in the head.

  ‘Thank you!’ Li wrested the sword from the man he grappled with and knocked him out with a wu-yi punch.

  ‘I could be even mo
re helpful if you cut me loose.’ As a Triad tried to slash at Killigrew with a sword, the lieutenant kicked him in the crotch and he went down with a howl.

  ‘So sorry…’ Li jumped into the air and somehow contrived to kick two men in the face simultaneously. ‘I am a little busy at the moment.’ He parried a sword stroke from another man and kicked him away long enough to throw the sword across the room. It spun through the air, sliced through Killigrew’s bonds and embedded itself in the bulkhead behind him. His hands free, he knocked out one Triad with a right cross, another with a left uppercut, and turned to pull the sword from the bulkhead.

  ‘Fire the gun!’ screamed Tan.

  ‘But the dragon boat race is not yet ended, excellency!’

  ‘Fire it now!’

  Killigrew saw two of the Triads light the fuse of a shell and insert it in the muzzle of the gun: they did not seem to realise there was no need to light the fuse, the firing of the gun did that automatically. In their panic they had not cut the fuse to the correct length – not that a few seconds would make much difference either way when the shell landed on the gubernatorial stand. Why the devil hadn’t the Tisiphone towed them clear yet?

  Two swordsmen attacked the unarmed Li from both sides at once. He side-stepped, grabbed one by the wrist and whirled him around to receive the other on the point of his sword.

  Tan picked up the lanyard to fire the shell gun and flexed his fingers around the toggle. Parrying a sword-stroke from one Triad, Killigrew kicked another in the groin. The man staggered back, cannoned into Tan and knocked him across the breech of the gun.

  While Li exchanged fast and furious wu-yi blows with one Triad, another tried to strike him down from behind. Killigrew flung his sword. It spun over and over and took the man in the throat. The lieutenant turned and found himself staring down the length of a quarrel resting in a crossbow. He had a flashback: it was the same man who had almost shot him at the gaol, the one who had later shown up as the captain of one of the pilong junks which had ‘attacked’ the Golden Dragon.

  Killigrew caught him by the wrists and forced the crossbow up towards the deck head. The two of them struggled for control of the crossbow. They bounced against the shell gun and then rolled on the deck beside the gun carriage.

  Inside the barrel, the fuse still burned.

  Tan steadied himself and adjusted his grip on the lanyard.

  The pilong tried to point the crossbow at Killigrew’s face but the lieutenant was stronger. He forced the pilong’s arm away, into the space beneath the hammer of the percussion lock.

  Tan pulled the lanyard. The hammer fell and the pilong screamed in agony. The firing pin failed to connect with the priming tube.

  There was no time to draw back the hammer for a second try. Aware of the still-burning fuse in the barrel of the gun, the Triads and the guards fought to climb out of the door and the windows.

  Tan was knocked down in the panic. He tried to crawl away but Killigrew grabbed him by an ankle and deftly tied the lanyard in a stout knot around it.

  ‘This way!’ Li threw himself feet first against one of the bulkheads. The flimsy partition smashed under his weight. Killigrew followed him through. In the next room he saw Li hurl himself through a window. Killigrew jumped out after him, headfirst. He plummeted twenty feet, hit the water, and a moment later the shell burst in the gun’s barrel. Red-hot chunks of metal burrowed through the water all around him. He swam down a fathom, aware of flames lighting up the surface above him, and then struck upwards.

  When he surfaced, the houseboat was in two halves and sinking in flames. No one was watching the dragon boat race any longer. A few of the Triads who had managed to escape from the houseboat splashed around, striking out for the shore.

  A hand grabbed Killigrew by the scruff of the neck. He twisted and found himself hard against the gunwale of the Tisiphone’s thirty-foot steam pinnace. Ågård and Molineaux hauled him on board.

  ‘Are you all right, Killigrew?’ Hartcliffe called from the stern.

  He nodded. ‘Why the devil didn’t you just pull the houseboat clear?’

  ‘Engine failure. You seem to have managed well enough without help.’

  The marines in the boat were shooting at the Triads who swam for the wharf. A Chinese surfaced on the opposite side of the pinnace. One of the marines whirled, levelling his musket, but Killigrew knocked the barrel up. ‘He’s on our side!’

  Li Cheng was pulled into the pinnace and they rowed back to the Tisiphone. When Killigrew had climbed up the side ladder he found Robertson waiting for him on deck. ‘Good work, Second.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, sir.’ He gestured to where Li Cheng was climbing through the entry port after Hartcliffe. ‘Chalk this one up to the Celestials. Mr Li just saved my life. And averted a small war. Miss Ai-ling?’

  ‘The Eurasian girl? In the sick berth, being properly cared for by Westlake and Strachan. Where the deuce does she fit into all this?’

  ‘She’s Ultzmann’s daughter. They were holding her as a hostage for his bad behaviour.’

  ‘I see. What about Prince Tan?’

  ‘Dead, sir. That just leaves Bannatyne, Verran and Ingersoll to take care of.’

  ‘Except we don’t know where they are,’ pointed out Hartcliffe.

  ‘There’s a slim chance they still plan to make that rendezvous at the Buchan Prayer at midnight.’

  Robertson checked his watch. ‘We’ll never make it in time. It’s quarter past nine already, and Muir tells me it’ll take weeks to repair the engines.’

  ‘Might I make a suggestion, sir?’

  * * *

  ‘It’s your choice, madam.’ Blase Bannatyne faced his wife across her cabin on board the Golden Dragon. The fire damage had been repaired and cosmetic alterations had been made to the steamer to disguise it from prying eyes on the other vessels in the Cap-sing-mun anchorage. ‘Even as we speak, a train of events which will change the whole course of history has been set in motion. When the war is over, a new dynasty will rule in Peking. A dynasty which will be in my debt. A new treaty will be signed: one giving me exclusive rights to all the tea produced in China. I shall be the richest man in the world.’

  She stared at him for a moment, and then shook her head. ‘How much money do you need?’

  He stared back, as if there were something strange about her question. ‘All of it.’

  ‘You’re insane.’

  ‘You never understood me, Epiphany. Can’t you see my vision? What I’m trying to achieve for us here? When my plan comes to fruition, kings and queens will bow to you. Isn’t that what you want?’

  ‘No! Blase, I never wanted kings and queens paying attention to me. Just you. I just wanted you to place some value on the things that interested me, as well as the things that interested you.’

  He sighed and stood up. ‘I cannot afford the public disgrace of a divorce. You understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘Is that the only way you can see to keep our marriage alive? By making veiled threats?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s over, Blase. I just want you to let me go.’

  ‘That I cannot do—’ There was a knock at the door. ‘Who is it?’ Bannatyne called impatiently.

  ‘Cap’n Ingersoll, sir. The look-outs on Lan-tao have reported back.’

  ‘Splendid. I trust everything went according to plan?’

  Ingersoll opened the door. His face was pale. ‘Something went wrong.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Prince Tan’s houseboat blew up before the dragon boat race finished.’ Bannatyne stared at him in disbelief. Then his face hardened. ‘Killigrew!’

  Mrs Bannatyne laughed. She no longer had any sympathy for her husband. He was deranged, twisted. The only reason she had not realised it before was because he had always kept her at arm’s length, emotionally. ‘You want to rule the world, and you can’t even get the better of a junior naval officer!’

  Bannatyne slapped her viciously, knocking her out of her chair. She fell
to the deck, but refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. ‘Does that make you feel better, Blase? You can’t beat Killigrew, but you can beat me, a defenceless woman… your own wife, for Heaven’s sake!’

  He scowled, and turned back to Ingersoll. ‘Tell Verran to get steam up at once. We’re leaving. Fetch all the papers from the safe on the Buchan Prayer. And unless you want to be here when the Royal Navy arrives, I suggest you bring your things on board, too.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir. Where shall I tell Cap’n Verran we’re bound?’

  ‘Anywhere but here.’

  * * *

  Molineaux did not recognise the steamer tied up at the landing stage next to the Buchan Prayer when Sir Dadabhoy Framjee’s pinnace steamed through the Cap-sing-mun Passage. Molineaux manned the tiller while Killigrew and Hartcliffe stood in the bow. ‘That’s not the Golden Dragon!’ he protested.

  Killigrew raised a telescope to his eyes. ‘“Vermilion Bird”, it says. And if you believe that, you’ll believe anything. It’s the Golden Dragon, all right. I’d recognise her lines anywhere.’

  Hartcliffe cast his eyes over the squad of marines and bluejackets, and his eyes fell on Li. ‘What the blazes is he doing here?’

  ‘He wanted to come,’ said Killigrew.

  ‘That’s beside the point. This is navy business, and he’s a Chinese national and a civilian.’

  ‘I felt we could use all the help we could get,’ said Killigrew, and smiled faintly. ‘He seems to know how to look after himself.’

  ‘This will be cutlasses and musket-work, Killigrew. There’ll be no place for his wu-yi skills here.’

  ‘Yes, milord. Want me to have Molineaux put the tiller over and take us back to Victoria?’

  Hartcliffe sighed. ‘If he gets killed, Killigrew, it’ll be on your head.’ Killigrew said something else to Li in Cantonese; telling him to keep his head down and stay out of trouble, guessed Molineaux.

  As they closed with the Buchan Prayer Hartcliffe raised a speaking trumpet to address the men on the decks of the opium hulk and the steamer. ‘This is Lieutenant Lord Endymion Fitzmaurice Berkeley Hartcliffe, of Her Britannic Majesty’s Royal Navy. I order you to strike your colours and permit us to board you!’