“We must tread carefully, Ellen. We are not to be anachronistic, to be throwbacks to a dead age. Show respect, by all means – that is our duty. We are not, perhaps, to display an excess of funerary zeal. Thus a black dress is necessary in public, but we do not need a profusion of jet beads and mourning brooches.”
“Moderation in all things, Magnus?”
“The true and sole sign of good taste, my lady.”
“So it is, my lord. Should George be dressed in a black frock?”
“No! Quite out of place.”
She subsided, thinking that her father would no doubt regard such a display as de rigeur. A word in the old gentleman’s ear would not be unwise.
“A cable from Captain Hawkins, sir, delivered by SNO’s messenger.”
Paymaster Lieutenant Oakley tendered the envelope and withdrew from his master’s presence; he seemed to imagine that he had been appointed to act as butler to his captain.
Magnus ripped the envelope open – a pointless charade of privacy because the message had come over the wire to the SNO and he must have read it before sending it on, as would his telegraphists, both of whom no doubt made a substantial amount in bribes.
“Regret news from England re your father not good. In final decline. More when known. Hawkins.”
Presumably a matter of days rather than the months that had been expected. Magnus rose from his desk in the office that Grafton had lent him and poked his head through Oakley’s door.
“I must take this home and make arrangements, Mr Oakley. I shall probably not be back this afternoon. Send a messenger to me if necessary. Is there anything more about this strike business?”
Oakley shook his head.
“No sure word since the initial warning last week, sir. All of our informants are certain that agitators are fomenting discord along the Bund. None of them know who or where.”
“Damned nuisance. If we only knew where and when it was to happen, we could ensure that the launches with their machine guns would be well distant. As it stands, it is possible that many men will lose their lives.”
“That is what they want, sir. The union organisers will be better served by a massacre, with all its publicity, than by winning a penny an hour more for their men.”
“That is a harsh view, Oakley. Too cynical, I much hope.”
“No, sir. It is a reasonable analysis of what we must expect. Kill a few hundred coolies and there are millions more to take their place, and many of them will join the union. Win a wage rise and every man will receive it, whether in or out of the union, and will consequently see no need to purchase his union card. I will lay you long odds, sir, that if you try to withdraw the launches some of the union leaders will bring men to dance in front of their guns and throw brickbats at their crews. It is a policy that worked in the French Revolution and will be used in many more in the future.”
“All the more reason not to use machine guns, Mr Oakley. Better far to attend with a sniper’s rifle, picking off the few of the truly important in the crowd.”
“They will not be there, sir. They will be well back, just barely in sight of the mob they have created. You will not find true leaders at the front of a mob, sir.”
“Good Lord! How do you know so much, Oakley?”
“Read the books, sir, and the newspaper articles about these anarchists and such in the Balkans and in Russia. ‘Activists’, they call themselves these days. Interesting to watch how human beings behave, sir, and how clever men can manipulate them like puppets by pulling the right ‘strings’, as you might say.”
“Have you spoken to Captain Hawkins, Oakley?”
“Well, no, sir. Should I?”
“I much suspect he would be interested in all you have to say, Oakley. He is always looking for clever men to assist him in his valuable work.”
The garrison and the Navy paraded and marched to the slow drumbeat of the Royal Marines band and prayed mightily outside the cathedral while their betters expressed their grief in their pews. It rained upon their finery.
Magnus had great sympathy for the officers and men outside. He and Ellen were sat decorously in the company of the great and the good of Shanghai – not in the very first rows but well towards the front.
They attended the reception held by the Municipal Council afterwards and found themselves in a place of some prominence, in front of Captain Grafton in the receiving line which was a matter of some embarrassment.
“Social position given prominence over service rank, my love. One of the reasons why the Admiralty will be unwilling to employ me after I accede to the title. Nothing annoys an admiral more than to find one of his own captains in front of him when he is being introduced to the Governor of a colony or to the consul in a foreign port.”
She could see that could create ill-feeling.
Blantyre was present, very quietly asked what his son-in-law had in mind for the strike that seemed imminent.
“I don’t know, sir. There is a dearth of information coming my way. The Council tells me nothing. The big hongs don’t speak to me at the moment. Not a word from Sia. I am in a limbo – deliberately, I have no doubt. Do you know what is going on?”
“Politics, my lord! Chinese politics, at that. The modernists want you to gun down the poor workers – there are plenty more where they come from and dead martyrs will make a good rallying cry. The hongs mostly want you to shoot the strikers because they think that will make an end to labour unrest. The Council wants clean hands, to be associated with neither side. Sia wants to be on the winning side and suspects that may eventually be the young reformers – but not this decade. Lord Ping is sending bullion out to London – and a lot of it; he don’t care about Shanghai any more. I have informed my brother that I am getting out of Shanghai – my health is breaking down, as far as he knows. There will be a replacement for me sent from Singapore within weeks and he is to buy out my shareholding in the hong. Keep your nose as clean as possible, my lord, that’s all I can say.”
That was good advice and almost impossible to follow, Magnus feared. He sat down that evening, talking the problem over with Ellen.
“Were you to be busy in Hankow, Magnus, you could not be shooting strikers in Shanghai.”
That struck him as the most practical of advice.
“Shall we take a visit to Mr Sia’s store in the morning, my love? I am sure you will need silks to take Home with us.”
Mr Sia listened and shook his head – he was amazed to hear of Magnus’ problems but much feared that conditions in Hankow were quiet and likely to stay that way.
“Unlike Shanghai, my lord. It is probable – indeed, almost certain – that there will be riots on the Bund in three days from now. Clearly, it will be necessary to suppress them. I much fear that the police will find the task beyond them.”
“Three days, Mr Sia? I fear that I shall find myself in control of the launches and having to take the necessary action. I shall discuss matters with the Senior Naval Officer and we shall see what is to be done.”
Mr Sia showed sympathetic while implying that there was little alternative. The Navy would serve as a most useful scapegoat, one that would allow considerable political mileage.
“You are to leave China soon, my lord. You will be most greatly missed, but in your absence there will be a culprit who cannot be publicly identified or punished – which will serve the convenience of all.”
“I shall return to London with a massacre against my name, Mr Sia.”
“And who in London will either know or care, my lord?”
Magnus was silent, unable to discover any rejoinder. Was it to become known that forces under his command had killed a large number of Chinese – not merely Chinks but Reds seeking to foment strikes and riots – the most common response would be a cry of ‘more power to your elbow, sir’. It would do no harm to his name, that was for sure.
“I shall, Mr Sia.”
“Then I must express my respect for you, my lord. You are a good man.
It is as well you are leaving Shanghai – this is not a city in which a good man may flourish, my lord. Have you heard more of your father, my lord?”
“Only that he is unwell – the ailments of age, of a life of self-indulgence combining with the loss of a beloved son – and the survival of his reprobate boy – to weaken him mentally. He has been prescribed large quantities of the opiate called heroin, a nostrum recently discovered to bring calm to the febrile, and that has given him some relief, or so I am told. I do not myself know of its effects, but I am no medical man.”
Mr Sia knew little of the substance but could not admire the use of any opiate.
“The poppy, my lord, is for the mentally weak and the morally feeble especially. I have no sympathy for the many of my countrymen who choose to use it. They deserve to die. As for its use in the case of the mentally enfeebled – that I do not know. I cannot imagine that it will not have a deleterious effect on the physical system – but, if it relieves distress, then who am I to deny comfort to the ill?”
Magnus achieved a smile.
“Wise words, Mr Sia. When I am called, ordered, away I may be placed under strict constraints for time. The Navy is capable of ordering me onto the next liner out. In such case I may be literally unable to call upon you to make my formal farewell. Please be assured that will not be to show discourtesy or any form of disrespect, sir. Nor will it display a lack of affection, sir. I am well aware of the many kindnesses you have displayed to me. It is my most earnest hope that our families will continue to work together and respect each other for generations to come.”
Sia gave a most formal bow.
“My sons will know that there will be a place in London where they may beg for assistance, if the need arises. Yours should know that Shanghai and Hanshan are welcoming while my family survives here.”
Magnus retrieved Ellen from the silks warehouse, where she had been playing the rich gwailo lady, and thoroughly amusing herself in the process, and took her home before going into conference with Captain Grafton and then with Marlborough on Taku.
The news of the strike came to Captain Grafton in his office. He sent his runner for Magnus, finding him aboard Taku.
“All in hand, sir. Best for you not to be involved, sir. You have another two years in this posting while I am liable to be recalled at any time. I have heard nothing for a week but expect to be told of my father’s death at any time,”
Captain Grafton had been informed, confidentially, by Hong Kong that Magnus was to return to London within days of becoming the Earl of Calvine. He agreed that it was wiser for Magnus to deal with the unrest and the inevitable losses of life or property that would result.
“Makes me sound cowardly, Eskdale – letting you carry the can, as the matelots say.”
“The course of wisdom, sir. I will take the action and be blamed for the results. You can tidy up and the Navy can take the credit for the positive aspects. Better that way for the service.”
Grafton was much struck by the nobility of Magnus’ actions. He did not wonder what his motive might be.
“What are you going to do, Eskdale?”
“I am as yet uncertain, sir. I will probably be forced to react to the needs of the moment. I cannot tolerate arson or looting; I will not accept physical assault upon the managers who are so unwise as to be found on the Bund. If at all possible, I shall persuade the strikers to make their case peacefully – it is no business of ours to intervene between master and man while no law is broken. If they will not be calm, they must be dispersed.”
Grafton – who had no love for a Red – thought this to be unexceptionable.
Magnus gave no further detail, returned to Taku.
“Whaler away, Mr Marlborough, as planned.”
The boat was in the water, the midshipman and a signals rating aboard in addition to the oars and a pair of riflemen.
The whaler pulled out a distance from the pontoons and made its way slowly downriver along the Bund the crew scanning the shoreline.
Magnus stood on the destroyer’s tiny bridge, elbow to elbow with Marlborough and his Yeoman of the Signals.
“Flag, sir. Crowd in sight, cable distant from Jardine’s warehouses. Estimate, ten thousands.”
“Thank you, Yeoman. Acknowledge.”
Magnus was annoyed by their location. He must take action, could not permit Jardine Mathieson to be discommoded. Had the crowd made a target of a lesser hong, he could have afforded to wait to see how the situation developed. He must not risk the strikers looting or burning Jardine’s property; they had influence as far as Downing Street and would make the whole Navy suffer if they considered him negligent.
One burning warehouse on the Shanghai Bund and Jardine’s political power might ensure that the Navy’s next class of battleships was cancelled – that was a risk not to be taken.
“Taku to take station off the Bund as discussed, Mr Marlborough.”
The destroyer was lying ready to sail, singled up to the pontoon. Five minutes saw the small ship nosing along the line of moorings and placing herself fifty yards from the shore between Jardine’s most easterly warehouse and the noisy crowd.
Four of the harbour launches were already present and the other two were in sight, closing at their full speed.
“Bring me to hailing range of the launches, Mr Marlborough.”
Two minutes and Taku was within thirty yards of the nearest launch. The other three were in line abreast. Magnus could see that the Maxims were manned, ammunition belts drooping from their breeches.
“Launches will take station astern of Taku. With immediate effect. Do not open fire except at my personal command. Acknowledge my order!”
There were four cries of ‘aye aye, sir’ and the launches slowly took their position.
“Main guns ready, Mr Marlborough. All that bear to aim at the crowd.”
The crews ran to the forty-seven mil quickfirers, took position, clearly visible behind the shields. The three guns that would bear swung round to point at the front ranks.
“Can you see turbans, Mr Marlborough?”
“By the warehouses, sir. About forty police, sir. Armed with their sticks only.”
“Order your midshipman to go to them. Their senior officer is to lead them forward and warn the crowd to disperse. Any violence on their part will be met by the big guns.”
Marlborough passed the orders to the Yeoman and waited for the signal to be passed and acknowledged.
“Your gunners know what they are to do, Mr Marlborough?”
“The first five rounds rapid fire, sir. Thereafter aimed single rounds as necessary. If necessary, I should say, sir.”
Nothing happened for a few minutes, the police making themselves ready and the strikers passing the word back to their distant leadership.
“Moving now, sir.”
The police had formed into a double line, the constables two paces apart to give them room to swing their long bamboo lathis. They paced slowly forward.
The strikers picked up stones and brickbats, made ready to throw.
All was silent.
“Wait my command, Mr Marlborough.”
“Sir.”
Marlborough shouted down from the bridge.
“Gunners make ready. At my order only!”
The gun barrels turned as Taku steamed very slowly forward. Magnus watched the crowd, could see hands pointing at the ship. He suspected that men in the middle ranks who had been prepared to risk machine gun fire, which might kill the men in front but would not reach them, were having second thoughts about explosive shells.
“Far too many to be striking workers, sir.”
Marlborough’s predilection for stating the obvious was becoming irritating. Magnus quelled the impulse to snap at the silly little man – he was on the bridge, Marlborough’s bridge at that, must not insult the captain in front of his crew, unless he was to replace him.
“It is a political affair, Mr Marlborough, aimed at the gwailos. Their wages are
low and the price of food is high, because of the drought that so reduced northern grain production, and the strikes have been easy to organise as a result. But the main aim is to seek political change. The agitators are out of sight, well at the back of the crowd, but they are there, without doubt. We must disperse the mass of people or they will damage our interests, but there is no point to killing these poor fellows – they are being used without their own knowledge by politicians who care nothing for them.”
“Sorry, sir, but why?”
“The ends justify the means, Mr Marlborough. If they succeed in throwing out the gwailos, the politicians will explain that is best for China. The coolies who die have been sacrificed for the cause – their deaths benefit millions of others. Whether they knew why they were dying, or were asked whether they were willing, is irrelevant. They die that others may live – that will be the answer given to those who are so foolish as to ask.”
“That is the justification for every war, sir.”
“Then in that case, it must be right, Mr Marlborough. Be ready to open fire, sir!”
The police were closing on the demonstrators – they were too well-disciplined to be a simple mob.
“There we go!”
The air was darkened by thousands of missiles, the strikers throwing as one to an unheard command.
“Fire, Mr Marlborough!”
The three guns fell into a frenzy of rapid fire, a roar of explosions. The crowd screamed and ran, the front turning and trampling down those behind in their panic.
“Cease fire!”
The agitators at the rear were visible, trying to round up their acolytes. There were a few bodies littering the Bund, unfortunates who had been trodden down and severely maimed or even killed. There were no shell holes, no signs of exploded ordnance. The slowest coolies could still be seen in the distance, disappearing inland into the safety and anonymity of the city.
04 Peking Nightmares (The Earl’s Other Son Series, #4) Page 24
