“Ayaou, you are thinking crazy.”
Ayaou got down on her knees. “Robert, if you love me the way you say you do, take my sister as proof. I want her to belong to you.”
“I don’t want Shao-mei as my concubine.”
“But you aren’t going to give her back to Captain Patridge are you?”
“No!”
“I can’t give you enough, Robert,” she said, pressing her lips to his, which aroused him to the bursting point. She gently pushed him down, pulled his trousers off, stripped, straddled him and took his erection inside her. She stretched her arms above her head pulling all the muscles in her body taut and remained still as if to preserve the moment. The sight of her naked body in that pose excited him. His hungry hands reached for her breasts.
Chapter 11
A few days later Ayaou and Robert started the journey to Shanghai and the illfated confrontation with Ward. When the lovers reached the banks of Soochow Creek, Ayaou saw two old women in a flat-bottomed riverboat tied to a bush.
“I think it would be better for you to ride into Shanghai, Robert. You don’t look good. I’m worried. You should have rested longer before we left.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just tired. That’s all.”
“We shouldn’t have mated so many times,” she said. “You were like a wild beast.”
“If you can get them to carry us down stream to the city, it would help,” he said. “You talk to them, Ayaou. I’ll stand under that Mulberry tree and look old.”
She smiled. “That shouldn’t be hard. You look like you have aged a dozen years since the battle. Here, tie this cloth over the lower part of your face. I’ll say that you are my sick uncle.” She tilted the conical bamboo hat Robert was wearing so it covered his forehead and eyes.
Robert bent over, stared at the ground, and took a few hesitant steps. “Does this help?” he asked.
“Good, you look like a crippled old man in pain. Since no one can see your face, they won’t know you are a foreigner. I’ll tell them I’m taking you to see a doctor.”
She walked over to the women. Robert strained to listen, but she talked too fast. He couldn’t understand a word. When she returned, she put her mouth next to his ear and whispered. “They are boat people like me. We are distant cousins, so they are going to give us a ride.”
It wasn’t easy finding room in the boat. It was loaded with vegetables and rice on the way to Shanghai. The women stood in the stern sculling the one large rudder-like oar to move the boat. Robert sat in the bow and faked a sickness. He bent over with his back to them so they couldn’t get a good look at him. Ayaou positioned herself in the center.
Willows grew along the banks and beyond were groves of pomegranate, plums and apricots. Soochow creek emptied into the Huangpu River, which writhed like a muddy dragon to the mouth of the Yangtze River in Wusong and then to the East China Sea. During Robert’s language lessons, he’d learned that when translated from Mandarin into English, Shanghai meant, go onto the sea.
After the first Opium War, which lasted from 1839 to 1842, treaties had turned Shanghai into an international trading city. Then the English, French, Germans and Americans had built their concessions outside the old city. The British settlement was along the western bank of the Huangpu south of the creek. When Robert walked down a street in the British sector, it was as if he were in Belfast or London instead of China. The French had settled to the west of the international settlement. The French sector was the most picturesque with its wide tree-lined avenues.
Until the Taipings arrived to slaughter people by the tens of thousands, no Chinese were allowed to live inside the foreign enclaves that resembled Western cities. The Taipings soon learned to stay away from the superior military forces of the Western powers. Now Chinese from some of the wealthier and more powerful families were allowed in. In addition, servants, who worked for foreigners, lived there too.
Once inside the city, the masts of ships anchored in the Huangpu River were visible. The buildings in Shanghai were mostly two or three stories tall, and the masts towered above everything. The American settlement, where Ward lived, was on the western bank of the Huangpu and north of the creek.
The two boat women weren’t going to the river. Their produce was bound for the French. They put Robert and Ayaou ashore near the American sector. People crowded the cobblestone streets and flowed into the city.
Robert continued his charade as a sick old man. He walked bent over staring at the ground and shuffled along. They found themselves stuck behind a large two-wheeled trucking cart. Six coolies strained at the ends of the pull ropes. The cart held at least a dozen huge pigs. Each pig was locked inside a loose weave basket. The baskets were stacked on the cart like firewood.
Once in the American sector, they found a pawnshop. Robert wanted to sell the rifle so they could eat. He took off the hat inside the store and pulled the cloth down that covered the lower part of his face. There was a long counter near the front with the shelves and second-hand goods behind it. Some of the shelves had locked glass doors. Robert saw pistols, swords, knives and rifles inside the cases. On the closest shelves were dusty banjos, guitars, woodcarvings and a chess set with a hand carved set of Chinese characters.
A short, thin man stood behind the counter. His skin was a pale, sickly yellow color the texture of tanned leather. He had a nose like a hatchet and small eyes set close together. A corncob pipe protruded from a corner of his mouth. He sucked from it and blew smoke through his nose. “Can I help you?” he asked in an unfamiliar English accent, which Robert guessed was American.
“Are you from the colonies?” Robert asked, curious. There were no other customers in the store. Ayaou moved behind Robert so he was between her and the man. She stared submissively at the floor. Robert didn’t like that. This wasn’t the girl who had stood beside him in battle.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said. “You aren’t my servant. Stand beside me.”
She didn’t move. When Robert attempted to take her by the arm and pull her forward, she jerked free and continued to stare at the floor.
The man behind the counter studied Robert for a moment before he replied, “I’m from Maine.” He looked Robert in the eye and with a wry smile said, “You need to be corrected, son. We aren’t the colonies any longer. We kicked your English Lobster asses out of our country decades ago.”
Robert smiled. “I’m not from England. I’m from Ireland.”
“Is that so?” the man replied. His smile exploded revealing a mouth full of crooked, tobacco stained teeth. “My great-granddaddy came from Ireland. We may be kin. Too bad you Irish couldn’t kick the English out of your country as we did.”
“How many Irish fought on your side in the rebellion?” Robert asked.
“Many,” the man replied and chuckled. “After all, my great-granddaddy was one. He shot a few of them red coated bastards.”
“Look, I could use a little pocket money. I have this rifle to sell.” Before they had entered the city, Robert had wrapped the rifle in a blanket. He unrolled the blanket and put the rifle on the scratched wood counter.
“Hmm.” The man inspected the weapon. “It’s been fired a few times and hasn’t been cleaned.”
“That was less than a month ago. Before that it was right out of the crate.”
The man offered a quarter of what Robert expected. He countered by tripling the amount. They spent several minutes haggling. Eventually, when a price was agreed on, the man reached for the rifle. Robert put his hand on it. “Who do you plan to sell this to?” he asked.
“That’s none of your business. We made a deal.”
“I don’t want to see this rifle in the hands of a Taiping.”
The man from Maine made a face. He turned his head to spit on the floor behind the counter. “We don’t see none of them on our streets. Most likely this rifle will go to some American that just arrived to make his fortune in China or to an officer in General Ward’s army.”
He spit on the floor again. “Mostly that’s who I sell to or buy from when they go broke in the gambling houses or get hooked on opium and whores.” His eyes swiveled to inspect Ayaou. “She your slave? We got slaves down in the southern states. I don’t much like that business. I’m an abolitionist. The good Lord didn’t mean for any man or woman to belong to another. Maybe I shouldn’t buy this weapon from you if that’s the case.”
“You a friend of Ward’s?” Robert countered.
The man shook his head and spit again. Robert noticed that every time the man spit, he hit the same spot on the floor. It was stained darker than the rest of the wood planks. “I don’t have no use for anyone like him.” The man shifted his gaze to Ayaou again. “How much did she cost?”
“Nothing,” Robert lied. “She’s my wife.” There was some truth to it. Robert hadn’t paid for her—yet. The man raised his eyebrows in a gesture of doubt. Feeling a bit guilty at his small deception, Robert took the money and left. He hadn’t exactly lied. Robert believed that what he’d paid for Shao-mei and what he was willing to pay for Ayaou was like a dowry. He didn’t think of Shao-mei or Ayaou as property to be bought. He saw them as individuals allowing him to pay for their freedom.
They found a street vender carrying his portable stove and wok on the ends of a shoulder pole. They bought sticky rice and fried vegetables and consumed them like hungry wolves. Robert didn’t care much for sticky rice, but that day it tasted like a lump of heaven after what Ayaou had been feeding him.
After eating, Robert pulled Ayaou from the flow of foot traffic into a recessed doorway. “Ward’s house is around the corner. Before I go, I want you to hear a poem that has been on my mind all day. An English poet wrote it. I’ll translate the best I can. It is called Break of Day by John Donne. What he wrote is how I feel.”
He didn’t know any other way to tell her to stay behind. The thought of her in Ward’s house was more than Robert could handle. He could have told her how he felt, but he was learning that the Chinese preferred explanations that came around to the meaning in a circle instead of a straight line. Once understood, the meaning was more powerful. The poem he’d selected was his first feeble attempt to think like the Chinese.
“John Donne,” she said mangling the poet’s name. “What does it mean? In Chinese there is meaning in everything.”
“We are different. The meaning is in our poems and not so much with the names given at birth. Listen carefully. When I’m done, I want you to think about what I’m saying.” Robert translated the poem awkwardly into Chinese.
‘Stay, O Sweet, and do not rise;
The light that shines comes from thine eyes,
The day breaks not, it is my heart,
Because that you and I might part.
Stay, or else my joys will die,
And perish in their infancy.’
“What am I telling you with that poem?” he asked. Robert had deliberately changed a word in the fourth line from ‘must’ to ‘might’.
She cocked her head at a slight angle in a thinking pose. Her eyes flirted with him. He was tempted to take her face between his hands and kiss her. It took an effort not to. Showing affection in public was something Robert was uncomfortable with. Her lips started to move. He realized she was repeating the poem in a whisper. He could barely hear her.
“It’s beautiful, Robert Hart,” she said. “You are telling me I must wait for you, so your heart will not break.” He saw tears gathering in her eyes.
“Good. Don’t forget. I want you to stay here until I come back. It will be dangerous for you to go to Ward’s house.”
Her body stiffened. Fear flooded her eyes. “You are going to confront him alone, and I have to wait here!” She started to cry. “You might not come back. He will kill you.” She shook her head. “No, I cannot stay here. I have fought by your side twice. When you were wounded, I saved you and stayed by you until you were healed and safe. If you are to die at Ward’s hands, I will die with you.”
Robert didn’t know how to respond. “I understand,” he finally said. He could tell from the tone of her voice and her body language that she wouldn’t stay behind. “After we arrive, I want you to pay close attention to my actions. If my face looks wild and full of anger, it isn’t because of you.”
“I understand,” she said. “If you look like a tiger, he will think you are one.”
“Yes, Ward must know the danger he’s in if he tries to touch one hair on your head. Trust me that we’ll walk into his house together and walk out. He’ll not keep you. Say nothing and let me do the talking.”
“I will die if I can’t be with you,” she said.
“It won’t come to that,” he replied. The truth was Robert felt better that she was going with him. Just thinking of leaving her alone on that street made his stomach churn with worry. What if he returned to find her gone? Anything could happen.
They reached Ward’s house in the afternoon. It was on a side street where there wasn’t much foot traffic. The house sat on more than an acre and was surrounded by a high wall. The gate leading through the wall was not latched. They slipped through, and Robert guided Ayaou to the side where they stood in the shadows watching. There was a hedge of sweet olive osmanthus ten feet high growing inside the wall and another hedge of the same evergreen shrub closer to the house. The osmanthus was loaded with orange flowers giving off a scent similar to ripe apricots.
Robert didn’t like it inside the walls. They were isolated here. Taking the Colt revolver from its holster, he checked the loads and put a bullet in the chamber he left empty for safety. Once Robert was sure they were alone, he holstered the Colt and went to the door and knocked.
Ward’s second-in-command, a man named Henry Burgevine, opened the door. He was a bear of a man from America’s North Carolina. His face was covered with freckles. He had red hair and a thick beard with dried food stuck in it. Between the freckles and red hair, his face had an orange cast to the skin. The front of his filthy shirt was covered with wine and dirt stains. The man looked like riffraff.
“I want to see Ward,” Robert said.
“What do you want to see him about?” Burgevine asked. He examined them as if their skin were blue. He filled the entire doorway. There was no way to squeeze by him without shoving him aside.
“We have business,” Robert replied. He nodded past Burgevine toward the room. “I want to wait in there.”
Burgevine stepped aside and watched Robert and Ayaou walk into the house. He closed the door and took a seat at a nearby table. Bowls filled with food sat in front of him. He took up a spoon and started to stuff himself. He glanced at Ayaou and said through a mouthful of food, “I can imagine what that business is going to be. Don’t expect Ward to be happy. We’re going to leave tomorrow to stage a surprise attack on Sungkiang. We’re going to take it this time.”
“That’s what Ward said last time.” Robert couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice.
“We won’t have any liquor with us. That will make the difference.” Burgevine picked up a chicken leg and shoved it in his mouth. After the bone was pulled out, he kept chewing, and said, “If you’re a smart man, conduct your business with him after we’ve taken Sungkiang. He’ll be in better spirits then.”
A noise came from the hallway. “Better spirits for what?” It was Ward. He entered the room holding a walking stick. He stopped when he saw Robert and Ayaou. His eyebrows lowered into a solid dark, angry line.
Robert sensed Ayaou’s fear. He put an arm around her and pulled her close. He realized right away he’d made a mistake, but he couldn’t help himself. He was afraid too, but he wasn’t going to allow Ward to see it. He had to be strong.
Ward’s expression changed. “What’re you up to, Hart?”
“I want to buy Ayaou,” Robert said. His voice was firm and confident.
Shades of gray filled Ward’s face. “If you took my virgin, I’ll see you flogged and her dead.” He took a step toward Ayaou.
; Robert freed the Colt from its holster.
Ward stopped. “What did you do when the Taipings attacked?” he asked. “Did you run away with the other cowards?”
“I fought until I went down,” Robert replied. “I was wounded.” He pulled up his shirt to reveal the pink scar running down his ribs. “Ayaou saved my life.” Then Robert sneered. “I can see that you are still alive. What does that make you?”
“Why, you insolent dog,” Ward replied. His voice started to grow louder. “I’ll bet she did more than just save your life. That is still no excuse to steal my property.” Ward was shouting now. He pointed his stick at Robert’s chest. “You’ll leave the bitch here. I might have my dogs eat her. I’ll not sell her to you.”
“No one is leaving until we make a deal,” Robert said.
Burgevine started to stand. There was a menacing look on his face.
Robert pointed the Colt at the man from North Carolina. “Sit and finish eating. This is between Ward and me.”
At Ward’s gesture, Burgevine backed off. Without coming any closer to Robert or Ayaou, Ward pulled over a chair and sat.
“Name a price, Ward,” Robert said. “I know how much you paid. I’ll do my best to make you a profit.”
Ward put his head back and roared with laughter. His thick, dirty raven hair brushed his shoulders as he shook his head. “It’s not the money.” Ward’s smile looked evil. He stroked his mustache then the patch of hair on his chin below his lower lip. “How about this? I let you take her after I have at her for one night.”
Robert grinned back and swiveled the barrel of the Colt in Ward’s direction. “You’re making me angry, Ward,” he said. He cocked the pistol’s hammer with an ominous click. Ward tensed as if he were going to leap.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Robert said. “I’ll have no problem shooting you before you can leave that chair.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Hart. I don’t owe you!”
“Yes you do. I left Shanghai with your army to take Sungkiang, and they got drunk. The troopers you gave me to command laughed at me when I wanted to take precautions. When attacked, those fools dropped their fancy rifles and ran to Shanghai where they took your money and deserted. I was the one who stood, fought, and almost died. For that sacrifice, I demand nothing from you but Ayaou.”
My Splendid Concubine Page 13
