“You will wonder why I spoke as I did last night,” Lin began. “You no doubt think that the emperor will censure me for not warning him sufficiently by express messenger about the strength of the barbarians, and that he will blame me for Chusan.”
“I fear so, Excellency.”
Lin smiled grimly. “But in fact you are wrong. The emperor does not care about Chusan.”
“Does not care…?” Shi-Rong asked in astonishment.
“Consider the vast size of the territories over which the emperor reigns,” Lin explained. “Even if he went out every year to inspect his empire for himself, he could never see it all, not in a lifetime. And if there is trouble in a distant province, the empire can always absorb the shock. It can be dealt with at leisure. Sometimes the trouble just goes away.”
“And Chusan?”
“The business of Chusan is shocking. But even Chusan is still a thousand miles away from Beijing. The men in charge there will be dismissed. They may be executed. Then someone will be sent to sort it out. The empire will carry on.”
“But if the trouble gets too close to Beijing…?”
“A totally different matter. The emperor loses face. That cannot be tolerated. The barbarians must be removed at once, whatever the cost. For that, the emperor would sacrifice me, if necessary.”
“But you did everything that the emperor wished in Guangzhou.”
“True. But the barbarians’ letter says that they have come because I mistreated them. If sacrificing me will cause them to go away, then the emperor must sacrifice me. And I accept that. It is necessary.”
“I cannot believe the emperor would be so unfair.”
“There is one other factor against me. If the emperor receives Elliot’s letter, it will be from the hands of the governor of the Beijing coastal region, to whom Elliot will surely give it next. Do you know that governor?”
“I know he is a Manchu noble.”
“A marquis, to be precise. His ancestors were Mongol—he claims descent from Genghis Khan—and they were given their title a few centuries ago when they joined the Manchu. The marquis was eased through the examinations, like many Manchu nobles. Then he got accelerated promotion. Undereducated and overpromoted, I’m afraid. Some years ago, conducting an investigation, I was obliged to censure him to the emperor—a fact he has not forgotten.”
“So he’ll try to get his revenge.”
“I fear he’ll succeed. He may be incompetent, but he’s cunning.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do, Excellency?”
“Not much,” said Lin. He smiled sadly. “I’ll try to save you, Jiang,” he added, “if I can.”
* * *
◦
A red December sun hung over the evening water when Nio, standing in the stern of the dragon boat, was rowed towards the big British warship anchored in the Roads of Macao. He was wearing a Chinese archer’s hat with a peacock feather stuck in it, which made him easily recognizable to his British merchant friends. Nio the smuggler was a useful fellow. But he wasn’t smuggling today.
Nearly six months had passed since the British naval fleet had set off for Chusan in June. Now the British warships were back again. And that was good for him.
As Nio saw it, the only way he could make money now would be if the British could restore the opium trade. Other watermen might have hired themselves out to work for Shi-Rong one day and a British opium merchant the next. But since he’d walked out on the young mandarin—and especially since the day when Shi-Rong had chased him and nearly caught him—Nio had been under no illusion about his choices. There was only one way for him to go at present—the British way.
And today he was going to do more for the British than he had ever done before. He was about to have a private meeting with Elliot himself.
When they reached the British ship, his boat pulled alongside, a rope ladder was thrown down, and Nio went up alone. He was immediately conducted to a large paneled cabin where several men, mostly in naval uniform, were sitting on one side of a long table. In the center of the men he recognized the tall figure of Elliot. At one end of the table sat a young man in a tight-fitting dark coat and white neckband—a missionary, no doubt, to act as interpreter. For although Nio had picked up some pidgin English by now, the occasion was too important and too formal for that.
They offered him a chair. Elliot smiled, to put him at his ease, then turned to the young missionary: “Mr. Whiteparish, if you please.”
“You are known to us as a reliable person,” Whiteparish began. “We understand that you worked for Commissioner Lin last year, and that you may have information that could interest us.” His Cantonese was far from perfect, but it was clear enough. “If we are satisfied with your answers, you will be paid twenty silver dollars. Do you accept?”
“I do.” When he worked for Shi-Rong, Nio had been paid the same as the men employed in the patrol boats: six dollars a month. Twenty dollars was a lot of money for a single day’s work.
“Firstly, then, we had understood that Commissioner Lin was dismissed by the emperor in October, and that his place would be taken by the marquis, with whom we have been negotiating in the north. The marquis arrived here ten days ago. Yet we hear that Lin is still in Guangzhou. Do you know if this is true?”
“Certainly.” Anyone in Guangzhou could have answered this. “Lin received word he was dismissed in mid-October. He packed up his household and vacated his quarters. But then he was told he should stay, to serve the marquis who was taking his place. So Lin took up quarters in the guildhall of the salt merchants. He’s still there. The marquis has been to see him, but otherwise Lin keeps himself to himself.”
“What do you know about the patrol boats?”
“I worked for Mr. Jiang, the official who organized them.”
“The marquis has told us that, as a sign of good faith, he is disbanding the patrols. Are they being disbanded?”
“They are,” said Nio firmly.
Elliot said something to the missionary, and Whiteparish turned to Nio again. “What do you know about the shore forts and their defenders?”
“I was present when Mr. Jiang and Commissioner Lin inspected them. I saw everything.”
When Whiteparish translated that, the officers at the table all leaned forward keenly. “Tell us about the defenders.”
“They are the best troops the emperor has. Manchu bannermen, highly trained. Half of them are archers. The others are musketeers.”
“Did you see the musketeers drill? What can you tell us?”
“They are well trained.” Nio hesitated. “It seemed rather slow…”
“Describe the drill as exactly as you can.”
That was easy enough. His memory of that day up at the fort was vivid. He could give them pretty much the entire drill. As Whiteparish translated, Nio heard one of the naval officers exclaim, “Good God! Matchlocks. Even the best Manchu bannermen—they’re still using matchlocks!”
They asked him more questions: Did the granite forts have roofs? Could they be approached from the landward side? They asked for other details, all of which he was able to answer well enough. They seemed pleased, even delighted. Then came questions about the guns. How many were there in the battery he saw? Were the guns old or new? Did they work? Had he seen them fire?
To all of these, he was able to give accurate answers. The questions came to an end. At a nod from Elliot, one of the officers handed him the silver dollars. Whiteparish expressed their thanks. Nio rose and bowed.
And then he sat down again. “There is something else I could tell you,” he said calmly.
“What is that?”
“If it is useful information, will you give me another twenty dollars?”
“Bloody cheek,” exclaimed one of the officers. But Elliot motioned him to be silent and nodded to Whiteparish. “If th
e information is good,” said the missionary.
“I noticed something about the cannon. I asked the gunners about it, and they said it didn’t matter. But I am a smuggler, and I was imagining how I would get past the battery if it was firing at me. I think I could easily do so.”
“Why?”
“Because the guns are all fixed. They cannot be pointed up or down or from side to side. They can only fire directly in front of them, always at the same place.”
Elliot stared at him in disbelief. So did all the officers.
“Are you certain of this?” asked Whiteparish.
“I swear it.”
There was a short silence.
“We could test it,” somebody said.
“If you have lied,” said Whiteparish, “we shall find out and be very angry.”
“If you assault the fort,” said Nio calmly, “take me with you. If I lied, shoot me. If I told the truth, give me a third twenty dollars.”
Even the officer who had been angry laughed this time.
“We may do just that,” Whiteparish translated.
But they gave him the second twenty dollars.
* * *
◦
If Shi-Rong had respected his master when the commissioner was in favor, his admiration became even greater when Lin fell. While he was noble in office, nothing showed the man’s dignity more than his manner of leaving it. Having shifted his quarters into the handsome merchants’ guildhall, where Shi-Rong was honored to join him, Lin quietly occupied his time practicing his calligraphy, engaging in correspondence with local scholars, and writing to his friends in Beijing and other places.
Shi-Rong was glad to join his master in some of these pleasant literary exercises while they both awaited the arrival of the marquis.
“I’d send you home to visit your father,” Lin told him, “but it’s better for you to stay. I have already mentioned to friends in Beijing the good work you’ve done for me. I can promise you nothing, of course, but if any offers of employment should arise, you’ll need to be here on hand.”
So the rest of October passed and most of November.
“The marquis is taking his time to get here,” Shi-Rong once remarked.
“Perhaps we should be glad,” answered Lin.
When the marquis finally did arrive, late in November, he went straight to the governor’s house and installed himself there. Though numerous people were summoned for an interview, he didn’t ask for Lin at all, making no attempt to see him.
Lin understood at once. “He’s investigating me. Calling witnesses. Gathering evidence. When that’s done, he’ll interview me. Standard procedure. Then he’ll write his report and send it to the emperor.”
“What do we do after that?”
“The marquis will be very busy. He’s got to deal with the British. As for me, I wait here and give the marquis any help he wants, as the emperor commanded. In due course, the emperor will decide whether to recall me to Beijing or send me into exile. Or execute me.”
And what, Shi-Rong wondered, in that last event, would happen to him?
* * *
—
The marquis appeared one afternoon without warning. He and Lin were closeted together for over an hour. Then, to Shi-Rong’s surprise, they sent for him.
“This is young Mr. Jiang,” Lin said easily as Shi-Rong made his lowest bow. “He’s studied the locality, understands Cantonese, and he’s the most efficient secretary I’ve ever had.” He turned to Shi-Rong. “The marquis needs a secretary who knows the terrain here. You’re the obvious choice. You will serve him as you have served me, and do your duty to the emperor.”
The marquis was watching him carefully. He had high Mongol cheekbones, no doubt like those of Genghis Khan, and his eyes were cunning. But there, Shi-Rong guessed, any likeness to his all-conquering ancestor ended. His face was soft. He was running to fat. He looked like a man who lived well and whose principal plan was to keep doing so.
“I represent the emperor here now. You must serve me without question.” His voice was gentle, but Shi-Rong didn’t like to think what might happen to him if he disobeyed. “You will report to me this evening.”
Shi-Rong bowed, and the marquis departed.
As he went to prepare for his removal to the governor’s house, Lin told him: “Leave some of your things here. That will give you a good excuse for coming to see me.” And when, an hour later, Shi-Rong presented himself to bid a temporary farewell to his master, Lin gave him some final instructions.
“You must make yourself useful to the marquis—more than that, indispensable. You must do everything he wishes without question. Make sure he is informed about the local conditions before he takes any action. You may even give him your honest advice, if he asks for it. But be careful. If I am sent away, or worse, he will be the key to your survival and your future career. This is my gift to you.”
“I owe you my life, Excellency.”
“It would appear, my dear Jiang, that I have lost my game with the marquis. But the game may not be over yet. Therefore I ask you to do one more thing for me.”
“Anything, Excellency. Consider it done.”
“Report to me, daily if possible. Tell me everything the marquis does.”
* * *
—
The first thing the marquis had done, the very next morning, was to disband Shi-Rong’s patrols. He made Shi-Rong do it himself. It took two days for Shi-Rong to complete the task. The crews were not happy. Each man was losing six dollars a month. Shi-Rong himself was horrified.
But when he looked in on Lin to give him the news, his former master was delighted. “Splendid, my dear Jiang. He weakens our defenses. I shall put this knowledge to good use.”
The next day was worse.
“My report on former governor Lin is complete,” the marquis announced briskly as soon as Shi-Rong appeared. “But it needs to be organized and written up more elegantly. You have until tonight. Then it will be sent to the emperor by the express courier.”
All day, therefore, Shi-Rong labored at this miserable task. Was he helping to compose his mentor’s death warrant? Dare he alter any of it, soften a word here or there, point out that Lin was, in fact, following the emperor’s instructions? And what if it were discovered that he was the one responsible for such an impertinence? There were terrible stories of former emperors executing officials who submitted unwelcome reports. One of the Ming emperors had sawn a man in half for doing so.
It was just as well that he did not tamper with it, for at the end of the afternoon the marquis insisted upon reading the whole report in front of him. Apparently satisfied, he dismissed Shi-Rong for the evening.
But what should he do about informing Lin? His old master would surely want to know exactly what the charges against him were. He wondered whether to go to Lin’s lodgings under cover of darkness, but there were always people about in the salt merchants’ guildhall who’d see him. Even if the marquis wasn’t having him followed, he’d probably hear of the visit and guess. There was nothing to do but wait for a better opportunity.
So he was quite astonished the next morning when the marquis received him kindly, told him to sit down, and remarked: “These must have been disagreeable tasks for you, Jiang.”
Shi-Rong hesitated, saw the shrewdness in the Mongol nobleman’s eyes, and decided it was wiser to tell the truth. “Yes, Excellency.”
“And have you informed Lin of the contents of my report?”
“No, Excellency. I have not.”
“Not yet. But you will. You are aware, however, that apart from the charge that he mishandled the British, which led to all this trouble—a charge he knows all about anyway—I have accused him of nothing else. His honesty and efficiency are not questioned.”
“I noticed, and I am glad of that, Excellency.”
/> “Make a copy of the report and give it to Lin, when you next see him. With my compliments.”
“Excellency.” Shi-Rong, astonished, rose and bowed low.
“You must be furious about the patrol boats,” the marquis remarked cheerfully.
“You are aware that I built the patrols up, Excellency. It would be foolish to deny that it was painful for me to disband them.”
“An honest answer.” The marquis nodded. “And you probably think it’s a bad idea.”
“I’m sure Your Excellency did it for a reason.”
“I did. Sit down again.” The marquis gazed at him thoughtfully. “The emperor’s immediate object has been to remove the British barbarians from the vicinity of Beijing. After that, we must persuade them to give back the island of Chusan.” He paused a moment. “So ask yourself: How can we do it? I’m sure you know the ancient tactic known as loose rein.”
“If destroying your adversary is difficult, soothe him instead.”
“We have been using it for two thousand years, ever since the Han dynasty. It’s the same technique used to tame a wild animal. Control the barbarians with kindness. Give in to some of their demands, and make them want to be our friends. This is not weakness. It merely requires two qualities that the barbarians seldom possess: patience and intelligence.”
“Your strategy is to coax them to do what we want.”
“Lin affronted the British. We remove the affront. We’ve already persuaded them to sail most of their warships back to the gulf here. Your dragon boats harassed them, so we’ve removed the dragon boats, too. Soon we’ll offer them more concessions, in return for their vacating Chusan. They won’t get everything they want, of course, but they need to trade, and this operation is costing them money.” The marquis smiled. “Accommodation will be reached.”
* * *
—
A day later, the marquis had offered the British five million dollars for the opium they lost. A week after that, the marquis told Elliot: “Your queen will be recognized as a sovereign equal in status to the emperor, and her representatives treated as such.” And when Elliot demanded to be given Hong Kong, the marquis mildly stated: “I can’t promise that at this moment. But as our kingdoms become better friends, I could see the emperor giving it to you in the future. What he won’t do is give it to you while you occupy Chusan. You must admit, that wouldn’t be reasonable.”
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