My Splendid Concubine

by Lofthouse, Lloyd

  Robert vaguely remembered seeing him on board the schooner, but he had not seen him once during the pirate episode.

  “Chinese pirates are devils,” Roundtree complained. “You’d think the blasted Imperial navy would do something about them.”

  “If Sir John Bowring wasn’t handing out licenses to fly the British flag to every smuggler and pirate along the coast, maybe the Chinese navy might be able to do something about it,” Robert said.

  A stunned silence settled around the table until one man cleared his throat. Robert squirmed in his seat. He wondered what he had said to cause this response. Maybe it was best to keep his mouth shut and listen.

  “It doesn’t matter what Sir John is doing,” Patridge said, breaking the uneasy silence. “We didn’t need the Chinese Imperial navy on the Iona. A little adventure adds flavor to life if it doesn’t hurt profits. Don’t you remember me telling the captain to lower the ship’s boats so we could row over and give those pirates a fight?”

  “I must have been below deck when that happened,” Robert replied. He decided to say nothing more on the subject. He didn’t care much for braggarts. After all, Patridge wasn’t a bad sort. The meal was a feast, and Robert was stuffing himself. No need to embarrass his host.

  “That blasted captain said the water was too choppy,” Patridge continued, “and when that calm ended, we set sail. Very disappointing. I was looking forward to a good fight.”

  If Patridge was changing the facts to suit his storytelling, what else was he embellishing? Robert shrugged it off. If the man wanted to make himself sound like a lion, who was Robert to complain?

  The warm but fresh air, the conversation, the bounty of good food and the lovely concubines made for a satisfying evening. Patridge treated his concubines like servants. Robert was confused. He wasn’t sure what the status of a concubine was yet. Maybe it was a combination of things besides keeping a bed warm at night.

  After a while, Robert noticed that each of the six men had a concubine serving him—one standing behind each man.

  Patridge started another story about a merchant at a port in China. “This merchant was lonely, so he bought a Chinese woman for seventy-two yuan. The girl was warranted sound, virgin, and respectably connected. However, the merchant heard her speak English and Bengali. It turned out she’d been a common whore for the commonest sailors, and the merchant ended with syphilis!” Patridge laughed.

  All the men joined in except Robert. He didn’t see the humor. The merchant had been cheated, and syphilis wasn’t fun. Hart knew all about it. While in college, he came down with an illness the doctor identified as syphilis. He was first prescribed Guajacum and then mercury. They were administered to the infection in a paste, which Robert had to rub on.

  “He paid too much,” Roundtree said, after the laughter died. “He should’ve had a virgin princess for that much. Since you can buy most girls for much less, it sounds like he was a fool.”

  More like a victim, Robert thought, but anyone who trafficked in flesh deserved whatever he got. He sipped slowly on his second glass of wine. Everyone else was starting on a fourth or fifth.

  The concubine serving Robert was called Willow, and she brought him plum pudding, mince pie and tarts. Robert wondered how he was going to eat it all. He decided to take it slow, one bite at a time. He was not going to pass up eating any of this food.

  When Willow wasn’t getting food or drink, she stood close behind Robert, and he felt the heat from her body. She was petite with a small mouth and a set of leaf shaped eyes. Her nose was almost a blade it was so thin. Her long black hair was tied in a bun on the back of her head. A wooden pin with bright colored hanging glass decorations held the bun together. When her head tilted this way or that, the glass tinkled like a wind chime. Her skin was the color of pure ivory, and she glided gracefully when she moved. She reminded Robert of a fragile porcelain statuette he’d seen in a museum.

  After coffee, the six men took a walk along the top of the hill. Captain Patridge had a string of fruit trees bordering a trail along the ridge leading from his hill to the next. They walked in the shade of the trees as the sun set in a blaze of orange and purple fire along the western horizon. Fruit hung heavy in the trees. Robert smelled the sweet, ripening scent of peaches, plums and apricots. If he hadn’t been so full, he would have picked one to eat.

  Willow walked behind him. She did not speak a word of English and kept her gaze on the ground. When she answered his questions, he had to strain to hear her whisper. Her village dialect confused him. She never asked a question and at times could not answer some of Robert’s. His tongue still found the Mandarin he was learning cumbersome. Though she didn’t say she couldn’t understand him, he saw her nodding at the wrong times. Was it possible she didn’t understand the Ningpo and Shanghai style of Mandarin Robert was learning? This bothered him. He was curious to know more about her. China was a strange land with one written language and many spoken ones.

  After the walk, they gathered on the veranda to enjoy the soothing breeze. The temperature, though humid and warm, was cooler than Ningpo. The greatest blessing was there were no mosquitoes. Robert didn’t miss Ningpo in the slightest. He was glad he’d come even if he had to listen to Patridge’s outrageous stories.

  Patridge’s summerhouse was built in a Mediterranean style with a wide, covered veranda overlooking the ocean. From the veranda, streams were visible running down from the hills. The walls were made of thick, plastered stone, which kept the house cool on the hottest days. Blue glazed tiles covered the roof. An open garden in the Roman style was located at the center of the rectangular house. All the outside doors were made of thick sturdy timbers and the windows had shutters that could be barred from the inside.

  A natural spring fed into a storage tank, which took up half the kitchen. The water was refreshing and worth the trip since the water in Ningpo tasted bad.

  When Patridge had guests, which was often, he entertained in a large room that faced west. He slept with his concubine of the moment in a large bedroom office combination on the north side of the courtyard. The guest bedrooms were on the south side. All the rooms, except the servant and concubine quarters, had doors that opened on the enclosed garden. The Chinese servants and about a dozen concubines lived in a separate building behind the kitchen. That’s where Patridge had sent Guan-jiah.

  The stables were built against the servants’ quarters, and those rooms smelled of manure and horse piss. This building was taller than the house and offered a windbreak when storms came howling across the island from the east.

  Robert thought if he ever had a house like this, he would build the stables so no one had to smell the animals. He had to admit Patridge had done well for himself in China. He wondered if he would match the man’s success.

  Captain Patridge passed around a box of gold tipped Egyptian Shah cigarettes for an after dinner smoke. Robert searched his pockets for a match, but Willow appeared with a candle. He took hold of her hand to steady the flame. Her skin was warm and smooth. He didn’t want to let go.

  With the sun gone, the sounds of frogs and crickets filled the night with their mating calls. One of the other concubines lit a half-dozen lanterns along the veranda. The dim, flickering lights drew in some moths and a few beetles.

  “It’s been a good day, gentlemen,” Captain Roundtree said, as he stubbed out his cigarette and stood. “There were no pirates. We have women to keep us warm and none of us is hungry or broke. I’m going to turn in. It was a long, hard trip from Hong Kong. The weather was a beast.” Captain Roundtree left with the concubine who’d been serving him through dinner. His third officer and the two midshipmen also excused themselves and left with their concubines.

  “Where can I find a supply of these?” Robert asked, holding up the cigarette.

  “I’ll connect you with the man I buy them from,” Captain Patridge replied. He put a hand over his mouth to cover a yawn before continuing. “He lives in Shanghai but will have no probl
em getting some to you in Ningpo.”

  There was one lantern left glowing. The concubine who’d lit them had extinguished the others. Captain Patridge’s concubine had already gone inside.

  Patridge stood and looked at Robert. “How does this compare to Ningpo?”

  “You were right about everything. I’m grateful for your invitation.”

  “Take advantage of Willow,” Patridge said. “Although she doesn’t play musical instruments or dance, she’ll make your night pleasant. After you’ve finished with her, I’m sure you will sleep soundly.” He squeezed Robert’s shoulder. “Let me know at breakfast if you’re happy with her. I have others if she isn’t satisfactory.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Robert said. He couldn’t look Patridge in the eye, and his ears burned from embarrassment. He was glad when Patridge went inside.

  Willow’s presence in the darkness behind Robert worked like a magnet arousing his sexual cravings. What was he to do? When the Sabbath came, there was no church and no minister to bolster his resolve not to stray from the path he had chosen. His heightened desire reminded him that he’d failed once with Me-ta-tae. He didn’t want to fail again. Every time he strayed, he paid a price. With Me-ta-tae, he’d made an enemy of Hollister. In Ireland, he’d embarrassed himself and his family. Why didn’t he have the strength to wait until he found a proper wife?

  The lone glowing lantern hung from a rafter to his left. The breeze buffeted it about causing it to make creaking sounds and to cast strange shifting shadows over the table. The chair Robert sat on felt hard, and he squirmed about attempting to find a comfortable position. Due to the silence, he heard Willow’s shallow breathing. He wanted to look at her but didn’t allow it. He cursed his libido.

  The food and wine made him feel lazy. His eyes drifted shut. He thought of the large corner room that Captain Patridge had made available for him. The room at the consulate had been smothering and cramped. The room here had a wide-open window facing the ocean and mosquito netting around the bed to keep him safe from the bloodsuckers. He wondered if that net protected him from Willow.

  Patridge said there were other women implying that if Willow did not please him, another would take her place. Just the idea caused his heart to palpitate as if it had a life of its own. The constant struggle was exhausting.

  In an attempt to get his mind off the woman standing behind him, Robert focused on the brig sitting at its anchorage in the small cove. Lights glowed from the aft windows. He heard a bell ringing from the ship marking the time. He counted eleven. It was late. He was tired, but he couldn’t move. Willow’s presence was like an anchor holding him in the chair. He wanted to take her with him, but his conscience said it was wrong. It was as if he were part of a painting. He didn’t know why, but it reminded him of Rembrandt’s The Night Watch. It was all so dark except for two people dressed in white and glowing as if they were lit from within like Willow and Robert on that veranda.

  “Do you need anything, Master?” It was Guan-jiah, who must have been in the shadows watching.

  “No.” Robert was drowsy and his tongue felt thick and heavy.

  “Master, in China we believe that we have found the true meaning of life and understand it. For us, the end of life lies not in life after death, for the idea that we live to die, as taught by Christianity, is baffling and makes no sense. The true end, as we Chinese believe it, is the enjoyment of a simple life and in harmonious social relationships while we are alive.”

  “Are you a philosopher too?” Robert asked, impressed. He knew what Guan-jiah was doing. He was telling Robert it was all right to spend the night with Willow. Was Guan-jiah reading his mind? Robert narrowed his eyes and studied his servant wondering if the eunuch was up to something.

  “No Master, but I have had much time to contemplate life and its mysteries. I have sought answers to my questions for many years.”

  “And this contemplation must have started when you were in that Buddhist monastery?”

  He nodded. “Have I offended you, Master?”

  “No. I value your advice. Thank you. You may go now.” Guan-jiah turned and walked into the darkness. With a sluggish effort, Robert stood to go inside. Willow blew out the last lantern and quietly followed.

  Once in his room, Willow came to take off his shirt. Kneeling, she slipped off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and pulled down his trousers. He stepped out of his pants and stood watching her undress. The sight of her naked body thrilled him. He found that he had trouble drawing in a full breath. Then she blew out the candles plunging the room into gloom. He listened to her climb onto the bed.

  Robert was glad that the darkness hid his guilt and his erection. A long moment passed while he listened to the only sounds in the room—the pounding of his heart and the breathing of two people. He decided to accept what Willow offered. After all, he was a traveler on a lonely journey, who occasionally embraced human affections the same way he took the sun and water.

  It was as if there were two people inside him. The first person was the man that arrived from Ireland running from his sins. The second man was the one from Ningpo. The Ningpo man felt lonely and tired, but there was no despair as there had been in the first man when he had reached Hong Kong a year ago. If Guan-jiah hadn’t stepped out of the darkness and talked to him, Robert was sure he would have slept alone. His servant had awakened the Ningpo man.

  He was still nervous, so Robert turned away from the bed to the washbasin sitting on top the small three-legged table in the corner. After rinsing his hands several times more than he needed, he searched in the darkness for a towel.

  He sensed her presence before she took his hands in hers. She hadn’t made a sound. She led him to the bed where the starlight coming through the window lit the sheets. When Willow stepped closer, the light reflected from her face and her bare shoulders.

  The sight of her naked skin caused his breath to catch in his throat. He had trouble swallowing. There was no warmth in her eyes, but they were not cold either. Robert took her face between his hands and bent to kiss her lips.

  She slipped away, crawled under the thin sheet. He followed. She twisted around snuggling her face against his neck. Her thin chest pressed against him, and she molded her body to his. Her breasts were small and soft. Any doubts that this was something he shouldn’t be doing fled. He rolled over on top of her. She was wet inside and received him easily.

  The sex act was over in a few strokes.

  Willow quietly cleaned him with a damp cloth then left the room. He waited for her to return, but she didn’t. She hadn’t said one word. Robert wished she had spoken—like where she was from, what was her favorite food, or if she’d had a good time. He wanted to make her smile or laugh. It disappointed him that there wasn’t more to it.

  Then he heard the sound of breathing at the open window. Robert saw the figure of a man there—about Guan-jiah’s size. When the shape left, Robert hurried to the window and watched his servant merge with the night.

  Robert returned to the bed and struggled with the discomfort of Guan-jiah watching him have intercourse with Willow. He was sure his servant had also spied on him when he’d made love to Me-ta-tae in Ningpo.

  He had been with several women since going off to college at fifteen. The idea of going through life and never knowing such pleasure was horrible to contemplate. He had no idea how Catholic priests survived and was glad he wasn’t one.

  Maybe the only way Guan-jiah came close to experience what it was like to be with a woman was to stand in the shadows and watch. Robert decided that if he could somehow make up for Guan-jiah’s loss by not complaining, he would keep quiet. However, that was not going to be easy.

  His encounter with Willow was an extension of the meal as if Patridge had planned for her to be the dessert. He no longer made an effort to kill the guilt, although it was lurking nearby. It was like a sleeping monster waiting to pounce on him as if it were a lion if he stumbled.

  He was beginning to understand
that, unlike Victorian England, China with its Buddhist, Confucian and Taoist influences fit who he’d been while in College. Here he knew that if he took up his old Belfast ways, he’d not be condemned. Here, if Robert so desired, he could follow where his nature led instead of fighting it. However, he hadn’t sailed halfway around the world to indulge in women.

  The concubines were not there for breakfast. Two male servants put the food and drinks on the table.

  “How was your night, gentlemen?” Patridge asked, as Robert leaned back in his chair with a full belly. “I hope it was satisfactory.”

  Roundtree belched. “You have splendid concubines, Patridge. Why do you think we didn’t sail straight to Shanghai to unload our cargo and take on a new one? It’s a long voyage to England, and your women are better than prostitutes.”

  “I want to keep my employees happy,” Patridge replied.

  Robert wondered if he would return next summer if the captain invited him again. After a night with Willow, Robert was not sure this was what he was looking for. He wanted to know the woman first. He considered taking his vacation next summer in Shanghai. He could stay with William Lay and his opinionated, grumpy brother Horatio. Shanghai held more people from England and Europe. If Robert spent his month there, he might meet someone.

  By midmorning, a dozen men arrived from the Sampson, a schooner that dropped anchor near the brig sometime during the night. They arrived on the veranda armed with cutlasses and muskets. One man had a healing scab running down the right side of his face. The scab started above his eye and stopped at his jaw line. What with his tousled hair and leathery skin, he looked like a true pirate. Robert shuddered, because the sight reminded him of the narrow escape with the pirates while sailing on the Iona. It was shocking to be reminded that life was so fragile.

  “Why come here armed like this, Captain Bainbridge?” Patridge asked. “Has something happened?”

  “Aye,” Captain Bainbridge of the Sampson said in a rush. “Taiping rebels took the Nancy on the Woosung River about twenty miles above Shanghai. My ship had moved farther from shore after unloading our opium when they struck.”