Foreign Mud

by Andrew Wareham

  “A small tot keeps the spirits up, Mr Giles. More than that is destructive of body and soul, sir! Look at the pastor!”

  The pastor was a Swiss gentleman and had been a most able man. He was one of the few gwailos who spoke the Chinese, both Cantonese and Mandarin, which he had told me was another, separate language used by the superiors of the Chinese nation. He was possessed still of a penetrating intellect, provided one spoke to him before midday. By one of the clock he was hopelessly sozzled, every day. Speculation was that he had come to China to save souls and had never made a single convert and had retired from his failures to the sanctum of the gin bottle.

  As always, I promised that I would not become a drunk.

  A first sip, shuddering as the harsh mixture of gin and quinine, as it is now called, hit my throat, and I relaxed in the sticky heat of the estuary town and set to pondering the question of Dubois and tin.

  An hour of thought and I had a solution. I returned to the offices and the company of the shroff.

  “Was we to send a lorcha to Georgetown, shroff, with gold in some measure, then it would be likely that a cargo of some thirty tons of tin ore could be purchased. Would you agree?”

  “Certainly, Mr Jackson. The law of Georgetown is that ore may be loaded only onto Company or country ships bound for England. They carry normally three or four hundred tons at a time. For gold, a mere thirty tons might easily be diverted, quite unnoticed.”

  “Excellent. The lorcha to return laden to Whampoa and put her cargo ashore across the quays, in failed secrecy, all to be aware of the nature of the cargo and the attempt to hide it…”

  “Very good, Mr Jackson! The crew not to know where they have been – how should they? Ordinary seamen have no navigation. The master of the lorcha the only man to have access to chart and sextant and to have longitude and latitude of the mining port. Dubois to be the lucky man who bribes him sufficiently?”

  We exchanged grins.

  “A trading junk carrying Dubois’ gold and silver in some large amount, shroff, to purchase an initial tonnage and set up a regular run from the new port to Canton. To be met at the rendezvous by whom, I wonder? It might be difficult to organise a ship of the Bombay Marine to hover off the coast for weeks waiting for the junk.”

  “That I can do, Mr Jackson. It is by no means impossible to inform a contact with the Southern Fleet that a vessel laden with bullion may be found on the Malay coast between certain dates.”

  I knew that the Southern Fleet was the most enterprising of the pirate squadrons off the Cantonese coast.

  It took three weeks to locate a lorcha with a captain willing to make the voyage – a half-caste, Portuguese and Chinese by birth, educated by a moderately responsible father and set to the sea as so many of his kind were, there being little for them on land where neither community approved of their very existence. The shroff arranged for him to seem to be contacted at second hand so that he would not be able to betray our part in his business, even by accident in drink.

  I watched discreetly as he sailed, carrying a substantial amount of my money. If he proved false and never returned, I would be well out of pocket.

  The next stage of the plan was simple.

  The gwailo community was inevitably close-knit – we ate and drank with each other for lack of any other who would talk to us. I primed the rumour-mill.

  Chapter Three

  The word spread in our tiny community, rumours carefully leaked, anonymously. There was a new source of tin, for sure. It was outside of John Company’s control. Ainslie knew its location and Jackson had sent a lorcha off to prove the trading route.

  A week and I needed say nothing more – the rumour mill had taken over and was creating new facts on an hourly basis. I simply scowled and shook my head when the subject came up in my presence, thus confirming that I knew far more than anybody else.

  There were fewer than two hundred Europeans in Whampoa, and that included the officers of the various ships in harbour. We ignored the crews, obviously – they did not count as people in our minds, seamen being little better than paupers. Canton itself held perhaps twice that number in the trading season, together with the outsiders we never bothered to count. Parsees and Sikhs made up the bulk of the ‘foreign’ traders though there was a surprising number of Armenians, fled from the Turkish butchers and spread across the whole world.

  All of those who counted knew as a certainty that there was a new tin mine. The bulk of the English were no more than mildly interested, expecting the Company to send an expedition to take the new mines as they had the old at Georgetown. The Americans generally were unwilling to venture too close to the Company’s holdings, suspecting, rightly, that their exploration ships would disappear if they did. The Company would blame pirates in that case.

  Only the French thought they might sensibly try to engage in trade with the new mine. They were at war and, if the mine was once proven, they could send traders with a naval escort, if they could find ships of war. The first imperative was to discover the location of the mine.

  I would not talk, that was a given. I had sent a lorcha off and the little ship would have a master and navigator, a half-caste and therefore susceptible to bribery. No half-caste could be financially sound according to local wisdom. The offer of as much as a thousand in gold must open his mouth.

  That was true, as far as it went. The master of my lorcha knew that I expected him to hold out for the largest possible bribe and then give our agreed-upon false latitude and longitude. He would keep every rupee he made, with my goodwill.

  Speculation was rife when the lorcha returned nearly eleven weeks after setting out, having experienced favourable winds on the easterly return.

  Almost every trader in Whampoa stood at wharfside as the lorcha emptied her holds of thirty tons of cassiterite in tight-woven jute bags. They overheard the master telling me that the ore was found in placer deposits in the valleys of several streams where they came to the shore ‘a distance north of Georgetown, a day or two with a good wind’.

  The shroff put the ore to public auction three days later.

  The bags sat in the go-down, opened and displaying their contents, which had been assayed by local bronze smiths and confirmed as honest.

  I was pleasantly surprised by the price fetched, Cantonese merchants bidding heavily for the ton lots that we sold. Weight for weight, the tin fetched half as much again as opium. I had spoken to Mr Fong and enquired whether his master had an interest in tin, had been assured that he was not in the habit of getting his hands dirty in a mere smithy. That being the case, the lots went to the high bidders with a clear conscience.

  Just to be awkward, I had invited the master of the lorcha to stay in the firm’s accommodation in Whampoa until the auction was held. He had not been ten minutes gone from our premises before Dubois was offering him gold.

  “Took the bait prettily, Mr Jackson. Look!”

  The seaman displayed a hefty purse full of gold coins.

  “Four hundred in pounds sterling, I calculate, sir. Additionally, he has delivered a half cargo of silks for me to take away and the remainder of my hold filled with porcelain on cargo charter to Madras, where it is to go overland, he says, to his people.”

  “What do you intend, Dom Rafael?”

  The ‘Dom’ was a courtesy title, to put it mildly, but he liked it.

  “I would sail for Calcutta, with your agreement, sir, and sell the whole cargo there. After that, well, the lorcha is my property, sir, and I might be inclined to sell her and pick up a schooner with a pair of guns and make my way as I could through the islands and eventually back to Macao.”

  I suggested he might amend his plan, sailing to Bombay and then making a voyage to the African coast and hovering off the Mauritius, which might prove rich waters for a venturesome man in an armed and fast vessel.

  “I can give you a letter of recommendation to my master in Bombay, Mr Ainslie, Dom Rafael. I suspect you would gain from that.”


  He was happy to fall in with my suggestion and distance himself further from the French merchants.

  The shroff could speak to people who would not come in contact with me and Mr Fong was happy to pass on some information as well. Inside the week I heard that Dubois had purchased – for being unable to hire – one of the few remaining ocean-going junks still in Canton.

  Mr Fong was quite entertained – his master was the owner, it seemed, and they had written the vessel off as unlikely to sail ever again.

  “Merchants are unwilling to make investments in long voyages, Mr Jackson. The days of Chinese fleets enforcing the Emperor’s will across five thousand miles of sea are gone. The lords of China are properly concerned with government of the homeland, not with wild imperial adventures. The Emperor has made it known that Chinese eyes should be focussed exclusively on China.”

  He made it clear that the policy decision had been arrived at as the result of careful consideration of the best needs of the Chinese people. The arrival in Chinese waters of heavily armed gwailo ships of war had nothing to do with the matter.

  “The great junks can carry very large cargoes, I understand, Mr Fong.”

  “More than one thousand of your tons, Mr Jackson, with a crew of three, even, four hundred men. The French gentleman, Dubois, will provide a navigator and Cantonese seamen will make up the remainder of the officers and seamen. The junk is to sail ten days from now. I am given to understand that Dubois has taken out a substantial loan from certain merchants of Canton who have an interest in bronze-founding. They do not include in their number those who are sworn to my lord’s service and therefore are not men who have taken loans from you.”

  I expressed my relief that it was so.

  The shroff sent his message off to the Southern Fleet.

  “Out of curiosity, shroff, why will they not take the junk as it leaves the waters of Canton?”

  “Better they should not be known to have any part in the disappearance of the trader, Mr Jackson. It is to be a mystery. What is unknown, cannot be investigated on a future day. Was the French to win this war and eventually take command of foreign trade at Canton, they might enquire into the bankrupting of Dubois. Wiser that nothing should be known. He will then be no more than a casualty of the war.”

  It made sense. If Dubois was unable to repay his loan he would be placed before the Hoppo of Canton to explain his financial ineptitude. He would be very lucky to keep his head – and might then be punished in such a way that he would regard death as preferable.

  “You are right, shroff. Nothing should be known about this business. Should we be asked why we have not brought more cargoes of tin to Canton, clearly it must be the case that the Company has forbidden us to do so.”

  “Exactly, Mr Jackson.”

  We stood back and marvelled as the enormous junk was worked out of the creek where she had lain for some years, serving as a residence for any number of the fishing population of the estuary. She was as tall out of the water as an East Indiaman and little less in overall dimensions. A great mass of artisans scurried aboard her and made her ready to sail in short order. She was laden with food and water and a cargo was placed aboard – what exactly, I did not know, it was not my business to poke my nose into French affairs, I virtuously pointed out. On the tenth day, she sailed, never to be seen on the Pearl River again.

  “It occurs to me, Mr Fong, that should Dubois’ junk be lost, then some four hundred of Cantonese seamen will go with her.”

  “How sad, Mr Jackson! They are not my lord’s people and are therefore no concern of mine – or yours. Dubois, of course, will be obliged to pay their families compensation for the loss of their men, but that is his business.”

  My hands were clean, it would seem.

  The season came to an end and we retired to Macao, as was incumbent upon us. I spent a little time there on the establishment of a brewery, for beer. The Portuguese tended to drink wine by preference and there was little that they liked for the northern Europeans. We managed to develop a mix of rice and barley that fermented into a very palatable brew. There was a market among the foreign traders and we achieved a profitable little enterprise in short order.

  Word came from Canton that Dubois’ great junk was deemed to have been lost. It had not returned on time and rumour insisted that it had been taken by one of the pirate fleets, empty of any ore.

  I said that I was not surprised. I believed that the junk’s traders had gone out with far too little in the way of cash to buy a cargo that would fill her great holds, and with too few fighting men to take the cargo by force.

  Orders came from the Hoppo that I should present myself before his magistrate in Whampoa to assist him in his investigations into the behaviour of Dubois. I could have refused to testify – the procedure being not without risks – but I preferred to cooperate and show myself virtuous. I was not yet ready to run from Canton and could not have stayed had I refused the summons.

  I sent word to Mr Fong that I was to appear before the magistrate and begged that a trustworthy interpreter might be found for me.

  Mr Fong appeared himself at my offices in Whampoa on the appointed day.

  “Better to make it plain to the honourable judge that you have friends, Mr Jackson. I am not unknown to him.”

  I made my thanks.

  The magistrate sat in splendour on a dais and I stood humbly before him, bowing low, as was proper.

  When questioned, I explained that I had been able to secure a single small shipment for sale in Canton before the Company could extend its monopoly to the new mine. Clearly, I had given the Frenchman, Dubois, no information – his country and mine were at war. The master of the lorcha had been hired, chartered, for the single voyage – I did not own him or his ship. I suspected that he might have sold information to Dubois. I did not know. He had behaved with scrupulous honesty to me.

  The magistrate asked whether I had attempted to ensnare Dubois.

  I swore I had not. I had seen the opportunity to make a single and highly profitable voyage and had taken it. My hong had benefitted substantially from my efforts. Dubois had attempted to emulate me.

  “In the markets, my lord, it is often the case that the first man in makes a profit. Those who seek to copy him may often lose their all.”

  I believe that Mr Fong added to my words. Whatever the case, the magistrate professed himself satisfied with my testimony and required me to wait on his convenience.

  I sat with Mr Fong in a side room. We were served tea and small foods by the magistrate’s own people, a sign that all was well for us.

  We spent almost half a day waiting before we were called back to the courtroom.

  We made our bows and looked up, immediately seeing Dubois on his knees before the bench, wearing the cangue.

  The cangue was almost like a mobile pillory and was applied to those criminals likely to attempt to run away, or as an act of humiliation. It was a heavy, flat wooden board as much as four feet by three with holes for the head and wrists, placed over the shoulders and chained into place, the prisoner wearing it night and day until his fate was finally determined. The prisoner wearing the cangue could not eat or drink without aid or reach to relieve himself.

  The magistrate made a brief statement, translated by Mr Fong.

  “The wicked man Dubois borrowed much money from innocent and naïve Chinese merchants and lacks the means to repay them. He has blamed Mr Jackson. His words have been determined to be false. He must therefore pay compensation to Mr Jackson, after repaying the merchants.”

  I bowed my comprehension.

  “Was he Chinese, he would certainly be decapitated, Mr Jackson. As he is a gwailo, he is not to be subjected to the most severe punishment. He will be flogged instead.”

  I bowed again and waited for the sting in the tail.

  “The thief shall be flogged with fifty lashes.”

  That seemed a very mild penalty.

  “The flogging will take place every day unti
l he pays off the totality of his debts.”

  The debts could not be paid before the next trading season, and probably would not be covered even then – it was likely that his firm simply did not possess the cash and none would lend to them.

  “Two months, at least, Mr Fong.”

  “Just so, Mr Jackson. He will be beaten with the bamboo canes.”

  I had seen the damage that the dried, split canes would do to a man’s flesh. I doubted that Dubois would survive the first week.

  “He has broken the law, Mr Fong. He must pay the penalty.”

  The magistrate bowed and I returned his courtesy, ensuring that my head fell lower than his; I had no desire to be flogged for contempt of court.

  A French ship arrived, almost the first in of the new season; it had sailed before any message could arrive from China. Its cargo was confiscated and set to auction to pay off the debts of the late M. Dubois. No further French traders reached Canton for the duration of the wars, much to the pleasure of the Company and the Crown.

  The little adventure did me no harm at all.

  To the Chinese, I was a respectable schemer, one who had enticed an enemy into foolishness and then had stood back, marvelling at his stupidity. Not merely had I defeated my enemy, I had shamed him and his countrymen. In addition, I had done so at a tender age. Finally, I had displayed a proper respect for the Empire and its laws and government. I was the model of all they could hope for in a gwailo. It was a pity about the size of my feet, but that was beyond my control.

  The Company heard of all I had achieved and offered its congratulations – I had materially injured the French and had made them an enemy of China in process, or so it seemed. Well done, my good and faithful servant.

  Mr Ainslie sent a letter expressing his approbation – I had done no end of good for his profits.

  Mr Fong begged me to stand before his lord.

  I ran to obey, almost literally.

  The old gentleman achieved a smile for me – I was honoured.