04 Peking Nightmares (The Earl’s Other Son Series, #4)

by Andrew Wareham

  Magnus was met by Commander Beatty, back in his proper place aboard Barfleur. They exchanged salutes and Beatty made a show of welcome, one veteran of the campaign to another.

  “Recovered from your wound, Beatty?”

  “Fairly much so, Eskdale. It ain’t quite right yet and the surgeon says it may need another operation when I get home. Useful, in its way – guarantees a posting away from China and I’ve done all I can here. You must feel the same, Eskdale.”

  “Not with a wife waiting for me in Shanghai, Beatty. I think there will still be a mite of work to do here, and I’m not one of those likely to head to the top of the tree. I like China. The place has done well for me.”

  Beatty led him to the admiral’s cabin and stood back, left him on his own apart from the flag-lieutenant. Magnus wondered why that had been arranged – it was obviously by order.

  “Sit down, Eskdale. Thought I would speak to you privately – Captain Hawkins does not want his business in the mouths of all and sundry. You must sail at dawn. Brave has picked up your coaster and is escorting her to her place, which we need not name. Deep water, well out of sight of the fleet here. I’ll give you the rendezvous in a minute. You are to put a lieutenant and four men as his escort aboard her. Nothing unusual in having a westerner as captain even of a smallish ship like she is. The crew have been replaced by a party of Chinese supplied in Shanghai. No trouble there, I am assured. It seems that a triad there is only too happy to do another in the eye – I don’t know the details. All clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will not board her yourself, Eskdale. You are too senior to risk. You will be needed to make the decisions aboard Obelisk.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Good. You are to arrest the coaster as a slaver and escort her to me. Taking no argument from Russki or Hun. If need be, sink her rather than lose her to either of them.”

  “Hun, sir?”

  “German. Did you hear of that bloody nonsense of the Kaiser’s? We’ve all taken to calling them Huns since.”

  “Right, sir.”

  “Good. Don’t take too many risks, if you can avoid them. You’re up for a bar to your DSO, by the way. The word is that it’s pretty much a certainty. Beatty is to make post captain in a week or two. You can look for the same soon after. Wartime promotion. You can expect to remain on station for another two years at least. Probably a flotilla of small craft on the Yangtse. Mail’s all to hell but I have word that your wife is well and in good spirits.”

  “Thank you, sir. Been a worry to me.”

  “Not surprising. How are you off for men?”

  “Down a score, sir. Of those remaining to me, some are barely recovered from wounds and sickness.”

  “I can send you thirty of Barfleurs, men only. I can’t spare you an officer to replace your First. With so many senior men onshore, I don’t have a lieutenant who could do more than any of your existing wardroom. When the next draft from Hong Kong, which should include some officers, gets in we’ll take the flagship’s people back and get you up to strength again.”

  “Much appreciated, sir. I was a little worried about this job as short-handed as I was.”

  “I wasn’t concerned, Eskdale. If you can’t do this sort of thing, no man can.”

  It was all very well to have a reputation – give a dog a good name and all that – but it resulted in senior men who should know better expecting miracles, every time.

  ‘Got an impossible job, old fellow? Give it to Eskdale, he’s just the chap for it!’ All very well, until the day came that he failed, and eventually, he must – the luck must turn, it always did, in the end.

  Chapter Eight

  The Earl’s Other Son Series

  Peking Nightmares

  It was very flattering, Magnus reflected, for the umpteenth time since he had been given his unlikely orders, to be the man every senior officer turned to when there was a tricky job to do. It led to recognition and a possible very rapid promotion, when it came off. Fail and he would be a has-been in a slum ship in the farthest distant backwater his admiral could find.

  He was tomorrow’s man at the moment. One failure and he was yesterday’s.

  Better not fail then - or go down gloriously. Cardigan had been a failure and was still remembered for his Light Brigade. Grenville had fought his Revenge to the death against nonsensical odds and had lost the Elizabethan navy one of its finest ships, but he was still a great British hero.

  ‘At Flores in the Azores, Sir Richard Grenville lay…’

  Stirring stuff, no doubt, but he would prefer to be alive rather than have a latter-day Tennyson declaiming his posthumous virtues.

  “Sod this for a game of skittles, Mr Warren!”

  “What, sir? Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  A wise midshipman always apologised, knowing that he was probably in the wrong whatever he had, or had not, done.

  “I want you to have a word with this new mid, Holland. He put up a bit of a black this morning. Guard of honour while the Chinks were topping a few Boxers – his stomach couldn’t handle the blood. Messy. Showed us up in front of the bloody foreigners. Not good enough. If I speak to him, it must go on his record. This once, you can warn him to buck his ideas up.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Not good enough for an Obelisk, sir. I shall explain the error of his ways to him, sir. Boot his arse if necessary, sir.”

  “Only if you must, Warren. How’s the chest now? Could have been a bad wound, that one.”

  “Almost cleared up, sir. Stitches are out.”

  “Good. Another inch and we should have lost you, which would have been a pity. You have the makings of a good officer, Mr Warren. Carry on as you have and you will be a sublieutenant very quickly.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Wartime conditions allowed for early promotions of junior officers. It was possible that Warren could gain two years on the ladder, putting him ahead of almost every other mid in his class, giving him a seniority he could never lose. He would also avoid the examinations and courses that would normally be demanded.

  “I will make sure Holland knows what’s what, sir.”

  “Well done. I shall rely on you to make something of him, Mr Warren.”

  The extra men came aboard and were set to their places, to Mr Pattishall’s deep pleasure.

  “They are all ABs, sir. Barfleur has sent us its best men. I expected they would be very ordinary seamen, but these are experienced hands. Big ships men, of course, but they can do all that we require.”

  “There is a reason for that, Mr Pattishall. Call Coulthorne to the cabin and I will explain all.”

  Magnus told them exactly what they were to do, and how they would go about it.

  “You will take four men of your own choosing across to this coaster, Mr Coulthorne. One engine room hand and one quartermaster and two who can use a revolver well, I would suggest. You will be taking the cargo aboard, and its escort. You may well have to barricade yourself on the bridge when the Chinks discover what is going on. We shall close on you and set PO Higgins to work with his rifle if needs be, to clear the deck of hostile guards. It might be just a little hairy for a while.”

  Lieutenant Coulthorne was inclined to agree. It might in fact be highly dangerous, but very profitable in terms of his career.

  “We have a rendezvous for the coaster and Brave, well out of sight of the fleet here. Sail at first light and make good a course to close her quickly. We shall be in company for some little time and I want to be well out of sight of land while we are.”

  “What do we do if the Chinks smell a rat, sir?”

  Magnus did not make the obvious response. He did not think that ‘die bravely’ would be particularly heartening.

  “Let the people from Shanghai talk for you. A gwailo seaman officer won’t be expected to have any Chinese. He will work through his serang or boatswain or whoever he has aboard, so you can let them be persuasive. Just show confident.”

  Coultho
rne was not stupid. He understood exactly what was not being said.

  “What do I do if the Germans and Russians block Obelisk, sir?”

  “Take the ship where you are told, and hope we can find you.”

  Brave was at the rendezvous, as was only right. She was accompanied by a surprisingly modern coaster, well painted and in obviously good condition, giving off the merest wisp of smoke, not the great brown cloud of an old and poorly maintained ship.

  “Signal Brave that Obelisk has the command.”

  Brave acknowledged and sent a polite message from her new captain.

  Magnus was anxious to send the coaster on its way.

  “Many thanks to Brave. Congratulations to Captain Knowles, Yeoman. Lower the steam picket boat. Mr Coulthorne, carry out your orders.”

  Brave steamed off, Mr Knowles bringing her round hard, still in the early stages of command, playing with his new darling.

  They watched as Lieutenant Coulthorne ran up the ladder at the ship’s side, spoke briefly to a pair of Chinese men waiting there and trotted up to the bridge.

  The ship was a new three island vessel, a coaster which could venture deep sea with no qualms.

  “A trader could take her across to Japan or the Philippines, Mr Pattishall, or down to the Dutch East Indies and not look out of place.”

  “Typical of a slaver, sir. Small enough to trade off little wharves but able to carry her cargo a good distance.”

  “Slaver or gunrunner, Mr Pattishall. Too many of both in these waters.”

  It was sad, Magnus reflected, that the cleaner and more modern a merchant steamer was, the more likely that she was an illegal. Cargo-carrying made very little money these days and owners neglected their ships – unless they had a profitable, unlawful trade.

  Mr Coulthorne was semaphoring from his bridge. Magnus could recognise a few of the flags but not all by a long way. He waited for the Yeoman of the Signals.

  “Mr Coulthorne’s respects, sir. He is getting under way. Fourteen hours at eight knots. Ship is Canton Pearl, sir. Bunkered for an estimated two thousand miles, sir. Full crew. Boatswain speaks English. Bridge is armoured against pirates, sir.”

  “Very good. Acknowledge and wish him good luck.”

  It was not uncommon for ships that worked the coast and big rivers to be protected against pirates. The central island was often plated in strong steel with the captain’s accommodation and galley inside. In such ships it was normal for the engine room to be accessible only from the bridge companionway. It had been known for pirates to take a ship and then be powerless to prevent it from sailing them into the nearest naval port where they could be swiftly hanged.

  They watched as Canton Pearl sailed off, quickly speeding up to her eight knots. Magnus suspected that she had several knots more in hand but it would have been out of character for a small coaster to have gone faster where she might be seen.

  “Obelisk will keep Canton Pearl in sight from the masthead, Mr Pattishall. We shall hover offshore, out of sight of land. Warn all lookouts there is a possibility of sighting German or Russian cruisers. Inform me immediately if we do. Identify and steer clear of either sort. I shall endeavour to steer inshore of them if we see them, Mr Pattishall, with the intention of reaching Canton Pearl first.”

  “Why, sir? As a British registered ship, she is our responsibility and the Russian and Germans have no right to stop her on the high seas.”

  Magnus smiled his kindest.

  “She’s not British registered, Mr Pattishall. She is owned by a Chinaman who has a firm in Shanghai. She is therefore not under the auspices of the Peking government either. We shall stop her under the pretext that she is a slaver running to the Philippines.”

  “The Americans don’t keep slaves any longer, sir.”

  “No, but their brothels buy in Chinese girls in some numbers each year. There is a thriving slave trade across the Pacific in Filipinas and Chinese. I am told that the Chinese girls are taken across to Manila Bay in small ships and are put aboard larger merchantmen for the Pacific crossing.”

  “Good God!”

  “So they say, Mr Pattishall. I have my doubts.”

  “What are the Russians and Germans doing, sir? They don’t interest themselves in stopping the slave trade.”

  “No. Only the Royal Navy runs slavery patrols these days. Policeman of the world’s oceans, that’s us. As far as I am aware – and I have not been told more than I need to know – both Russia and Germany believe they have a sole agreement, a contract, with Canton Pearl’s owners and they may be present to escort her to Port Arthur or Tsingtao, respectively. They will not be happy to see the other present.”

  Pattishall tried to make sense of the situation.

  “They can’t fire on each other without starting a war, sir.”

  “True, but the first to get alongside Canton Pearl with a boarding party will sail her away, the other unable to take action without a war ensuing. That is why we must get there first.”

  “Why, sir? Do we care that much for a few Chinese girls?”

  “No. We do care about the cargo to be loaded at Ching Wang Tao – assuming it is, of course. Canton Pearl is due to arrive offshore an hour before sundown and will be led into a wharf and secretly loaded overnight. She will sail at dawn – can’t go any earlier, there are no lights or buoys. As soon as she reaches deep water there will be a race between the Russians and Germans to pick her up, if they are there. We must get to her first.”

  “What if we can’t sir?”

  “The we must indulge in some quick thinking, Mr Pattishall.”

  Magnus had decided not to mention that sinking Canton Pearl was an option. Pattishall might be upset to consider destroying a ship with an officer and men from Obelisk aboard.

  “I am going to get my head down for three or four hours, Mr Pattishall. It might be a long night. I am to be informed if any warship is sighted, or any vessel on course for Ching Wang Tao.”

  Midshipman Holland called Magnus from his cabin an hour before nightfall.

  “Beg pardon, sir. First Lieutenant’s compliments, he has spotted two cruisers and a gunboat, sir. Position approximately thirty miles off Ching Wang Tao. Ships are in close proximity to each other, sir. Possibly at boat distance, sir.”

  They were talking to each other, it would seem. Why three? Possibly one of the cruisers had a smaller consort.

  Magnus dressed quickly and ran up to the forebridge.

  “What can we see, Mr Pattishall?”

  “Masthead reports a Russian gun vessel, sir; a German light cruiser; and a Japanese unprotected cruiser. Midshipman Warren is identifying the ships now, sir.”

  The Admiralty had published silhouettes of every known foreign warship and sent them out to all British warships. Most captains also bought a copy of Fred Jane’s reference books which were often more up to date.

  Warren ran up to the bridge, notepad in hand.

  “Beg pardon, sir. The Russian is Sivuch, a gun vessel. One nine inch and a six incher at the stern and six four inch and four revolving guns. Rated at eleven and a half knots, sir, but probably slower. The German is Bussard, or one of her class, and carries five one hundred and five millimetre guns and five thirty-seven mil revolving guns and three torpedo tubes. Fifteen and a half knots, sir. The Jap is Tutsuta, sir, lightly armed but with five torpedo tubes; she is good for twenty-one knots, sir.”

  Magnus gave his thanks and tried to come up with a plan. The fast Japanese played hell with his tentative plan of picking Canton Pearl up with the dawn. He would leave the Russian far behind and might just outpace the German cruiser, but the Japanese was good for four knots more than Lockhart could give him as emergency speed.

  “Offer a salute in courtesy, Mr Pattishall – distant, by flag, not close enough for guns. Call Mr Knuyper up with the charts for these waters.”

  The waters were not as shallow to the north of the Gulf, or so it seemed from the relatively few soundings on the charts.

&nb
sp; “There is a headland southwest of Ching Wang Tao by about five miles, sir. After that, we would be visible from the shore.”

  “The chart seems to suggest four fathom water all the way to the headland, Mr Knuyper.”

  “It does, sir. If the Gulf adheres to the same pattern as in the south, sir, then there may well be shallow bars at any distance out to sea. It would be quite possible to have four fathom water inshore and further out to sea with a patch of two fathom shallows in between, sir.”

  “That would be annoying… course due west, Mr Pattishall. Two hundred and seventy degrees. Double lookout to the foremast and another man in the bows, right up in the eyes. Looking for shallows. Make six knots. Ready the steam pinnace with food and water for a week, against emergency. Yourself aboard her, Mr Knuyper. At dusk you will place yourself half a cable from the bows and take soundings, line and pole, and lead the ship inshore. We will make no more than two knots. Equip yourself with red, green and white lights for signalling. Show the red light for turns to port, green for starboard, as is obvious. White for safe water ahead of the bows. Show all three lights for emergency astern on the engines. You will lead us to cover behind the headland and will then position yourself to see Canton Pearl as she steams out in the morning, or does not, of course.”

  Mr Knuyper acknowledged his orders, making no comment upon them, as was only right.

  “Beg pardon, sir. What if she does not set sail?”

  “Then you lead Obelisk inshore to board her, Mr Knuyper. You will make all speed in that case, it being likely that Mr Coulthorne will be in trouble.”

  They took their position as carefully as they could by dead reckoning and placed themselves as being about twenty miles distant from Ching Wang Tao.

  “At two knots we shall be lucky to make the headland by dawn, sir.”

  “You must increase speed when you consider it practical, Mr Knuyper. Do not exceed three knots unless the depth is obviously safe. Err on the side of caution.”