‘One day there will be steamboats here!’ declared Nahum da Costa, eagerness in his voice, pointing out of the window at the rundown wharf close by. ‘They are no match for the Blackwall frigates and the China clippers – not yet – but the day will come when they can carry the heaviest cargoes, and show a profit. And the day will come when we have our own fleet, plying all the world!’
‘That may be too ambitious,’ said Richard doubtfully. ‘Makassang is a small island, after all.’
‘It can be made greater!’ This time it was Mendel da Costa taking up the tale, his old eyes suddenly shining. ‘Your Honour, now that the East India Company is dead, there are many places to be filled. Already there are other big houses of export and import – Jardine Matheson – Godeffroy of New Britain – great names both … Da Costa of Makassang could be such a name! With a deep harbour, and a fleet of ships; cranes and warehouses and go-downs; a comprador for each cargo–’
‘And a customs service,’ put in Richard, with studied carelessness.
‘A customs service!’ Brought up short, Mendel da Costa gazed at Richard as if he could not believe his ears. ‘That indeed may be too ambitious … What would be the merit in such a thing as that?’
‘The collecting of taxes,’ answered Richard, prepared to enjoy himself.
‘But your Excellency–’ began Nahum da Costa.
‘You are asking me for a trade monopoly,’ said Richard. ‘It might be that I would be prepared to grant one. But a big export-import house – if that is what you have in mind – should certainly pay its share of taxes, and for that a customs service would be needed.’
‘Taxes,’ repeated Nahum da Costa, scratching his chin doubtfully. ‘It would mean the inspecting of books – a government accounting system – an army of civil clerks with special training … We would not put your Excellency to such a mountain of trouble.’
‘With care, the trouble would be sufficiently repaid, I have no doubt.’
Now Mendel da Costa shook his head, in a most elaborate pantomime of disbelief. ‘Inspectors – new laws – taxes – by these, Makassang would be completely changed! And not for the better, your Honour. It would mean that we would lose our – our innocence.’
‘I fear that is a risk we must be prepared to run.’
‘It would be a tragedy,’ insisted Mendel da Costa – and indeed, he looked as if he believed this, with all his heart. ‘Contrary to the natural law … Has not your Excellency heard of the philosopher Lao-Tzu?’
‘I have heard of many philosophers,’ said Richard gravely.
‘This was the greatest of them all – the father of Taoism! Lao-Tzu said–’ the old man’s face lit up with a fervour which might have been holy, ‘–Lao-Tzu said: “The secret of good government is to let men alone.” Is not that a truly wonderful saying?’
‘It is a saying so wonderful that I doubt if we can live up to it.’ Richard rose, ending the interview which had covered much valuable ground, and had satisfied him well. ‘But I will think of the philosopher Lao-Tzu,’ he promised, ‘and you will think of taxes. Then, when we meet again, we will have more to discuss.’
Nahum da Costa, a young realist, went to the heart of the matter. ‘If I may ask your Excellency, how great would these taxes be?’
‘Ten per cent,’ answered Richard promptly. He had little idea of an appropriate figure, but he felt it best to produce one.
Both brothers clasped their hands to their heads. ‘Ruin!’ they exclaimed in unison. And Mendel da Costa added: ‘Such a charge would eat up our profits entirely!’
‘Ten per cent,’ repeated Richard. ‘To pay for the new harbour, and the roads. Perhaps a railway also.’
‘And when these were paid for?’ inquired Nahum da Costa cautiously.
‘To pay for other things … Houses, streets, hospitals, homes for the aged, schools …’ He smiled. ‘If we truly have this dream of Makassang,’ he told them, ‘we must not skimp it. It will cost money. Some of it will be your money, and some will come from the royal treasure. But for ten per cent I might be prepared to follow the precepts of Lao-Tzu, and leave you alone.’
There were many such meetings, which Richard Marriott found it no hardship to attend; in truth, he discovered pleasure and inspiration in the go-down at Prahang, such as the Sun Palace had not been able to show him for many months. On these visits, he came unescorted, or with a single groom who waited with the horses outside; he stayed long, often through the course of an entire day, sipping wine, smoking the Da Costas’ excellent cheroots, gossiping, planning, thinking, feeling. Sometimes he shared their meals, Jewish dishes of stuffed fish and highly seasoned meat which (to him) seemed heathen and delicious at the same time. Always he shared their thoughts, and found in them a matching delight.
He enjoyed their company, without reservation. They were Portuguese Jews, people whom he had only heard of, by repute, as arrant rascals and swindlers; he now discovered them to be the very reverse – witty, subtle, good-hearted; a link with the civilized fulcrum of Europe which he had all but forgotten. Their world was wide; they could talk as easily of Montaigne as of the mud flats which must be dredged to make a deep-water approach to Prahang. They could bargain, finger to nose, about customs duties, insurance of cargoes, forward rates of exchange, the cost per foot of building a properly equipped market place – and then break off, with sly laughter, to quote Shylock as the source of their artful energy. To spend time with themwas to be provoked, at last, to the pleasures, preoccupations, and itching cares of manhood.
Richard became a familiar figure in the go-down of the Da Costas, wandering at will, examining books and ledgers, asking questions, learning the outlines of this novel universe. The clerks and office workers came to know him well; often, when he was talking and questioning, they loitered nearby, to hear what the Tunku of Makassang had to say, on any matter under the sun. Between himself and the brothers, anything and everything was meat for hopeful speculation.
In their discussion and dream of a model kingdom, their talk ranged like a turning, all-seeing eye. Sometimes they spoke of details – of the ‘houses, streets, hospitals, schools’ which Richard himself had cited, at their first meeting; sometimes it was of larger themes – the function of commerce, the merit of one kind of colonizing over another, the patterns of dominion which were still shrouded in the misty future. Sometimes it was of those intricate, twin tides of trade – export and import – on whose ebb and now the prosperity of Makassang must be founded.
‘We have much to offer,’ said Mendel da Costa, on one occasion, when they were trying to estimate the future position, and strike some kind of balance. ‘There are many markets we cannot hope to invade – we know the Dutch monopoly in spices, and the Java pepper trade is closed also. But we have teak, we have fish, we have copra, rice, rattan, coffee, rubber, antimony – now there is something the world wants! At the moment, the quantities are small, and everything is spread out over the island, like a thin patchwork. But if we can bring in modern methods, increase our crops, make the day’s work of one man the equal of what it is in the Western world, then Makassang has a great future.’
‘Makassang can have a great future of a different sort,’ said his brother. ‘In time, we can make things, as well as grow them. If we have teak, we can make furniture to sell. If we have coconuts, we can weave matting, and ships’ fenders. We can set up a guild of silversmiths–’
‘We should leave silver out of account,’ Richard interrupted him. ‘And the ruby mines also. They are in the Rajah’s personal domain.’
After a silence, Nahum asked: ‘But will that always be so?’
‘Why should it not be?’
The young Jew, aware of delicate ground, chose his next words carefully. ‘Are not the silver and the rubies part of the riches of Makassang? It is true that they are a royal perquisite, at the present time. But’ – he glanced at Richard – ‘some might say that they are going to waste, when they disappear into the palace treasure vaults
.’
There was another silence, which Richard did not feel called upon to break, and then Mendel da Costa disposed of the subject with skilful ease.
‘That is in the far future,’ he said smoothly. ‘We will have enough things to sell, and things to make, without intruding on the Rajah’s preserves.’
‘Even if they disappear into the treasure vault,’ said Richard, conscious of wishing to make an honest evaluation, ‘they are not lost.’
‘They are lost to Makassang,’ Nahum ventured.
‘Not so,’ said Richard. ‘The silver and the precious stones can provide the backing of our currency. In that sense the palace treasure belongs to all Makassang.’
A servant, bringing tea and English biscuits, interrupted the topic, and their talk went off at another tangent, questing, speculating, eyeing the hopeful horizon. Each plan led to another; each idea had its lively offspring, its footbridge into the future. On paper, in their heads, and within their hearts, there seemed no limit to the glowing promise of this new world.
It was Mendel da Costa who, at the last, sounded the note of caution.
‘Remember, there is danger in this financial growth,’ he told them. They were in one of the smaller counting houses, sketching a plan for the excavation of rice terraces to replace the haphazard cultivation of the past; the clerks moved round about them, soft-footed, eternally busy. ‘The rest of the world will come to hear about Makassang; its reputation will spread, wherever ships put into harbour; it will seem a small, rich country, without allies, and therefore desirable … Unless we are careful, we will be opening Makassang to enemies as well as to friends.’
‘We must be strong, then,’ declared Richard. He was in a mood of high good humour, as so often happened after a day spent with the Da Costa brothers; viewing the world from such an elevation, he felt there were no problems which could not be solved. ‘We must confront these enemies – and throw them into the sea, if need be!’
Mendel da Costa smiled at his vehement spirit. ‘And I know who will be leading the charge … But a modern state, such as we hope to build, needs a modern defence. We have the men, and they are well-trained, but their arms are pitiful, measured against what the rest of the world has access to. There are new weapons which can make us look like children playing at war in the nursery.’
‘Then we must have these new weapons ourselves.’
‘Such things are expensive,’ said Nahum da Costa dubiously. ‘And hard to come by.’
‘None the less,’ said his brother, ‘we cannot leave them out of account. We should turn our thoughts in that direction, when we are planning all the rest.’
‘Agreed,’ said Richard. He took a fresh sheet of writing paper, and laid it on the sloping desk in front of him. ‘Some field guns, perhaps? A shore battery, to guard the harbour and the palace? Even a small ship-of-war, to keep down the pirates.’ He smiled. ‘The Royal Navy of Makassang … I will be an admiral yet!’
‘I was thinking rather of small arms,’ said Mendel da Costa. ‘There is word from England of a new repeating rifle, the Enfield. If the Royal Regiments were equipped with that, there’s no country in the world that would not think twice before launching an attack on us.’
‘But the cost of it,’ objected Nahum.
Richard nodded. ‘It might prove too much, for all the regiments to be armed so. But we could make a start with the Palace Guard, surely? Suppose we gave them these rifles?’ His eyes brightened; already the fresh dream was outstripping slow reality. ‘That is the answer! We will begin by equipping the Palace Guard with rifles, the best rifles in the world. As a compliment to the Rajah!’
‘The Rajah might object to such a change,’ said Mendel da Costa.
‘Why should he? It will make them better soldiers, and a stronger guard. What use are spears and daggers, in these modern days? His Highness will be delighted!’
‘You would not consult him?’
‘No.’ Richard, in a spirit almost of birthday largesse, saw the project as a rare surprise, for an old man who would be pleased and flattered by such attention. ‘Let it be our secret, and then our pleasure to surprise him with it.’ He straightened up from the desk, and thrust the piece of paper with its scribbled list of arms, into his waist belt. It was evening, and time to return up the hill to the palace; the westering sun cast straggling shadows on the quay outside, as his groom began to walk the horses again. ‘Three hundred Enfield rifles,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Can you find them?’
‘I believe so,’ said the elder brother.
‘Then do so … I will pay for them out of my own purse.’ Pausing in the doorway to take his leave, he said again: ‘But not a word of this, remember. Let it be a surprise for his Highness.’
iv
Richard faced Colonel Kedah across the width of the stone balustrade between them; his natural, long-continued hatred of the other man, combined with a deep anxiety, made his manner brusque and forceful. They had met at the head of the Steps of Heaven, by chance; Richard, storming out of his apartments, had been on his way across to the barracks to seek out Kedah, when the other man made his appearance, strolling to and fro at the top of the steps as if he had not a care in the world. Their ill-omened meeting place cast a further shadow on the occasion; a piercing peacock scream from nearby seemed to lay a curse on all that might pass between them. Without greeting or formality, Richard said: ‘Kedah! I was looking for you. I have some questions to ask.’
Colonel Kedah’s single eye was still expressive enough to convey a supercilious carelessness as he checked his step, and turned to face Richard. He answered, with a coldness matching his manner: ‘I am not surprised.’
The curt phrase, and the absence of a formal mode of address, might have warned Richard of hazard, but in his disturbed mood he scarcely noticed anything amiss. He took his stand before the balustrade, and asked baldly: ‘What has happened to the Da Costa brothers?’
Kedah’s face became theatrically blank. ‘Da Costa? … The name is for some reason familiar, but I cannot place it. The – Da Costa brothers, you say?’
‘The Da Costa brothers. I think you know them, or have heard of them. Where are they?’
Kedah flicked at a tall blade of grass with his riding switch. ‘I would answer that question by asking another. What is your interest in them?’
‘I think you know that also.’ Richard drew a deep breath, holding his temper with difficulty. ‘Come – do not fence with me! You said that you were prepared for questions. These are questions … The Da Costas, as you know well, are merchants in Prahang. I have had some dealings with them. Today, I went down to meet them, and they had disappeared, no one knew where. Or they affected not to know.’ As he spoke, he relived again that strange, unreal moment of discovery; the shuttered and deserted go-down, the vanished clerks, the passers-by who, covertly watching him, turned away as he approached to put his question, or spread their hands in faceless ignorance of what he asked.
The conspiracy of silence had been complete, the wall utterly blank; he might have landed upon another planet, seeking a friend once rumoured to be there. ‘Where are they?’ Richard demanded again, more harshly, as he remembered that impenetrable blankness, that spoor erased without trace. ‘People do not disappear in Makassang, without your knowledge. Nor without your playing some part, either.’
Kedah allowed himself the thinnest of smiles. ‘You flatter my powers … In this case, all such questions should go to the Rajah himself.’
Richard stared back, on the verge of fury at this fresh check. ‘The Rajah will not see me. Did you know that also? He sent a message that he is receiving no one. Whether that is true or not, I was refused audience.’
‘I believe he is indisposed.’
‘For how long?’
‘Until he mends,’ said Kedah.
There was such a subtle, silky confidence in his tone that Richard looked at him more closely. It was difficult to discern exactly what made up this new authority; it was ce
rtain only that Colonel Kedah had changed. On the surface, the change was a composition of small things: his failure to use the formal ‘Tunku’ in addressing Richard; his manner, which had never been more cold and collected; the fact that he did not back away before Richard’s anger, and seemed prepared to outface it. But there were other ingredients, secret and remote … He had become utterly sure of himself, in a way that Richard had never encountered before. Of all the strange and furtive happenings of the day, this was the most ominous.
But Richard, who had his own share of confidence, momentarily brushed aside his doubts. He assumed his bleakest expression, and said: ‘It is not like the Rajah, to refuse me audience. Unless he has been persuaded to do so. I fancy you know something of this, also. I order you to tell me what is happening, what has become of the Da Costa brothers, and why their go-down has been closed.’
Kedah, by no means impressed, drew himself up. ‘In this matter, I recognize no such order. I answer to the Rajah alone.’ His eye, burning in a face of mordant determination, bent on Richard a most baleful look. ‘But you cannot be surprised at this turn of events.’
‘I do not understand you.’
‘You cannot be surprised,’ said Kedah again, ‘by the Rajah’s deep displeasure at your dealings with these – these Da Costas.’ He brought out the name as if it were inexpressibly vulgar. ‘His Highness does not understand – and neither do I – why you should consort with such riff-raff – and on such disgraceful terms.’
‘I will choose my own friends,’ answered Richard furiously. ‘The word riff-raff is absurd – absurd and insulting. There is worse riff-raff close at hand!’ He took a step nearer to the stone wall and to Kedah, ready for any desperate action in his determination to reach the truth. ‘It seems that you are in the thick of this matter, after all. Well, you will stay in the thick of it! Tell me where they are!’
The White Rajah (1961) Page 34
