Foreign Mud

by Andrew Wareham

  A rattling at the door and one of the boys slipped inside, spoke quickly to the old man.

  There was a sampan with a blue flag at the mast, not a quarter of a mile distant. The wharf was teeming with soldiers, horse and foot alike.

  “Can I wait here, for a day or two while the hue and cry dies down?”

  The soldiers were already breaking into buildings and searching. I must leave immediately, following the boy who would lead me to the sampan by a route known to him. I must pay the boy and take him with me, for he would be at risk of his life, possessing coins on the street.

  “I will take him aboard. I do not know where he will end up.”

  ‘He will end up alive’, was the rough translation.

  I dipped into my purse and pulled out five more gold coins, almost the last I had. I gave them to the shopkeeper with my thanks. He was now so rich that he dared not attract attention to himself; his mouth would stay shut.

  The boy led me into the alley, the passage narrowing to no more than a yard wide and stinking, an open drain down its centre.

  We ran fifty yards and then came within sight of the wharves and the thousands of merchants located there. There were wooden sidewalks around the warehouses, covering deep ditches. Presumably there was occasional flooding down at the waterfront – there was heavy rain in the wet part of the year, I vaguely knew. The sidewalks were boarded off, there was no apparent entrance to the ditches. The boy found a correct pair of boards and lifted them to one side, signed me to go in.

  The stink was vile and the ditches were inhabited. There were whole families of beggars tucked away into niches above water level, silent and watchful. They would raise no alarm, for fear of being turfed out of their hiding place, their sole shelter. I could see almost nothing except in light occasionally filtering from above, through gaps in the boards where there were lanterns. The faces I spotted were often disfigured, scarred and twisted.

  I recognised leprosy – the outcast victims constituted a proportion of the street beggars in China as much as in India. Like anybody else, I was terrified by the victims and the disease, but not so fearful that I would risk the soldiers catching me. I shrank back from touching them and followed the boy through the narrow passage.

  A few minutes and we came to the wharf itself, the gap between mud and the planking above a little greater. I could hear feet overhead, and hooves not infrequently. We turned left and splashed along, the river covering much of the mud at this state of tide. A little while and the boy stopped and pointed across to the hull of one of the few boats still tied up, its deck just a foot or two below the level of the wharf. Most of those who could would have sailed, I suspected, at the first sight of soldiers.

  The boy eased towards the sampan and picked up a stick, a piece of rotten driftwood. He poked upwards. A voice responded, irate. A quick word from the boy and there was silence.

  The boy turned to me, finger raised to his lips. I did not need to be told to hush.

  Minutes passed and then there was a whisper of command.

  I eased forward and two pairs of hands grabbed me and heaved me up and rolled me over the gunwale of the sampan and down into the bilge, sacking following and covering me. The boy followed, all in silence.

  I stayed motionless for how long I did not know, several minutes that felt far longer. There was movement then, the sampan pushing off and heading out into the river, distant from the shore. I relaxed and almost wet myself, the release of tension doing me no good at all.

  A short time and the covering was pulled off me and I was eased up to a sitting position and then moved to the stern. A shaded light played on my face and satisfied the boatmen that I was the right man.

  I was asked in Pidgin who the boy was and whether it might not be convenient to cut his throat.

  “Can we take him to safety? He brought me down to the wharf and to you. A clever boy who could be useful.”

  They agreed that intelligent boys were uncommon. They regretted that they had no need for such a one just now. His head was hauled back and his throat was slit in the instant and he was bundled over the side, an anonymous corpse. I noticed that the coins I had given him were recovered from the body. I was annoyed – I would have wanted to protect the poor little chap. Life was cheap, however. He had taken a chance and it had not worked out for him. There was nothing I could do.

  I shrugged and sat back with the bowl of tea they produced for me.

  The oarsmen relaxed as sail was set and the boat disappeared into the night.

  “Another hour, Mr Jackson, and the war junks would have come. Then we could not have sailed. Lucky gwailo!”

  I laughed.

  “Luck has been my friend since first I came to Canton and had the supreme good fortune to be permitted to serve the lord here.”

  They thought that was well said.

  I slept then, waking up when the sampan tied up at the village in the reeds in the early dawn.

  Fred greeted me and held me at a distance as he walked me to a washhouse and stripped me and sponged me down.

  “Smells like you’ve been rolling in shit, Master Giles.”

  “That was the better part of it, Fred.”

  We came away laughing, were greeted by Mr Fong.

  “Did all go well, Mr Jackson?”

  “I think so, Mr Fong. There were regiments of soldiers raising merry hell in Canton when I came away.”

  “Excellent. You must tell me all, Mr Jackson.”

  I sat and ate, hungry as a horse after the action was over. I found that more often than not over the years – whenever the panic was done, I was starving.

  Mr Fong listened and applauded and told me of the plans for the immediate future. We were to lay up in the village for a few days until the first furore had died down.

  “A week, a little more or less, and we shall take ship and leave these waters, Mr Jackson, likely never to return. We shall make sail to Bombay, more distant than Madras or Calcutta but in many ways safer for my lord. I believe that he has it in mind eventually to settle elsewhere in the world. It is not my business to know where.”

  I asked no questions. I was safe, more or less, for the time being and wanted to stay that way. Add to that, I was inclined to feel that I had been abused, set into great peril for no reason other than the lord wishing to express his contempt for the regime that had driven him out of China. Had I failed in my mission, the lord would have been very mildly annoyed – my life had been worth little to him. There was no gain to mentioning the fact, and much to lose.

  We rested four days, Mr Fong reporting that there were war junks by the score cruising the river and chasing down all other traffic. I was only slightly interested, my time being occupied by a pair of unusually inventive young ladies. On the fifth day, Mr Fong announced that the river was empty. The war junks had all been called back to their docks. Next morning we boarded a flotilla of sampans and effectively abandoned the village, only a few of the more elderly choosing to remain.

  A full day of travelling the backwaters brought us to Whampoa, where we did not stop. We continued out into the estuary and then to Lintin Island where we came up to a convoy at anchor behind the opium hulks, a mixture of country ships, Cantonese lorchas, Portuguese traders out of Macao and two of the old great ocean-going junks, fifteen vessels in all. I estimated the better part of eight thousand tons of hold space – potentially a very rich assemblage of vessels.

  “You are to go to the country ship of Mr Hardcastle, Mr Jackson. At need, which is not expected, you and the two others of the same sort will be the escort, as your Royal Navy calls it, for having great guns. The sailors tell me you are to sail to windward. The arrangements have been made and paid for. You are expected as a commander, not as passenger.”

  I bowed and did as I was told, reflecting that I had been given all too many orders just of late and it was high time I became my own man again.

  Captain Hardcastle greeted me most politely.

  “I am
told that you are acting for the charter party, Mr Jackson. You are to act as his agent and the admiral of our little fleet!”

  “Thank’ee, Captain Hardcastle. That is more than I knew. I have been out of contact just lately, upcountry, and do not really know what is going on. What can you tell me?”

  Hardcastle was impressed. China was closed to the gwailos – we did not go upcountry. To have done so made me one of very few, and them all the wildest of men. From being little more than a youth in his estimation, I had become a dangerous figure on the China Coast. I was quite pleased, thought I had chosen my words well.

  “All sorts of upsets in Canton, they tell me, Mr Jackson. You must know more than me of that! In Whampoa, all of us ordered off to Macao. Trading closed – no gwailos wanted never no more. Then, two days since, all changed – wonderful people, you gwailos, glad to see you, have a cup of tea! Why, I don’t know. My factor told me it was all to do with Ainslie’s shroff disappearing with all of their cash in his pocket. Tompkin’s man told him it was because the new Hoppo had been disgraced almost before he could settle into the job. That sounds more likely to me.”

  I grinned and said that Ainslie’s shroff had shut up shop by order. Ainslie was gone back to England and the firm sold.

  “As for the new Hoppo – the word I have is that he is finished. Some sort of scandal which reflected on the emperor himself.”

  Captain Hardcastle had made the Canton run a dozen times since first going to sea on his father’s ships. He knew a little of China. He winced and said no more – he had Chinese and lascar seamen aboard and wanted no word of disrespect to the emperor going back to Canton.

  We sailed within the hour, the pair of junks leading us out, banners flying and firecrackers exploding in clouds of smoke and flame. Part of that was to drive the devils away, of course; more was to celebrate my lord’s great coup.

  The voyage was quick and tedious – we saw no pirates and ignored the few prahus that appeared in Malayan waters. Two months brought us to Bombay and a restrained but heartfelt welcome from Mr Tung and Lamqa, both waiting at the front for the lord to arrive and carefully giving the impression they had been there, camped out, for weeks in their anxiety to greet him.

  I had nowhere to go, Ainslie having sold his bungalow and myself having rented a place which I had given up on returning to Canton. Mr Tung found me and put me into a room in his own quarters, a luxurious town house in the old style, dating back before the Europeans came in such numbers.

  “My lord will wish to see you, Mr Jackson, as soon as he is properly settled in his own palace. A place has been purchased for him from one of the Parsees. It is barely adequate!”

  I had seen some of the homes of the Parsee merchants – greater than any English country house and smack in the middle of town.

  “I much trust that his comfort has been properly catered for, Mr Tung. We must all be concerned that he has found it wise to leave Canton.”

  They were the correct words and would reach the proper ears. I was rapidly becoming tired of my role as chief gwailo arse-kisser, but I hadn’t been paid yet.

  I was granted audience a week later, a tailor having first measured me for a full suit of Western clothing – frockcoat, breeches, calf boots, linen shirt and lace frilled cravat under a very military tricorn hat. I was conscious of being dressed as well as any Writer of the Company. I was even more aware of the diamond that graced the pin in my neckcloth; the stone was not small.

  The tailor informed me that he had been commissioned to supply a full wardrobe.

  I was much in favour. I still have that tiepin. Never bothered to have it valued. I do not doubt that my son will have it in the jeweller’s within the day of my death.

  Not to worry – it might be paste, after all!

  Mr Fong escorted me to the presence, both of us kneeling and bowing our heads to the ground.

  We were bidden to rise and the lord smiled at us.

  Mr Fong translated, as ever.

  “There is a ship, Mr Jackson, teak built and new, a country trader officially, yet perhaps faster than most of such. She carries long guns and short and has a full magazine. There is a master and mates and a full crew. You are captain, with a cabin containing a large strongbox, which is full. There are papers which include a commission as a privateer – Letters of Marque issued by the Governor General and good for all oceans. It is strongly advised that you do not venture towards Canton, or any part of the Middle Kingdom. Your name is known there and there is a price upon you which is not small and may still be paid out half a century from now.”

  For obvious reasons, I never went back to find out if the price was still good. I often wondered just how much it might be – a measure of my own worth, perhaps?

  “The lord believes that you will be able to discover French vessels, and Spanish perhaps, sufficient to make a fortune, in addition to that he has bestowed upon you.”

  I offered my thanks. I had been pleased to serve and had not sought reward.

  Mr Fong informed me that was known. My lord had said that I was as a son to him, a crutch to rely upon. Now, I must go and make my life elsewhere – the Orient was too hot for me.

  I bowed deep and ventured to ask whether my lord was settled in Bombay or whether I might hope to meet him elsewhere.

  Mr Fong replied that it was not impossible that I might discover my lord in New York one day. The new country offered opportunities that London might not, for being so long a settled city.

  I promised to dock in New York one day and much hoped to renew old acquaintanceship. My lord nodded his head to me and Mr Fong ventured so far as to shake my hand in the European way. In their own fashion, which was not ours, both men had an affection for me. Funnily enough, I had a regard for Mr Fong, sufficient to make it hard to give a final farewell. For my lord? One cannot like such a man, that is impossible; I did have a respect for him, much the same as I formed for Wellington a few years later – some men are simply great and one must bow before them.

  I never met Napoleon or Nelson. I would imagine they were the same.

  I did meet Prinny, more than once, and bowed before him and compared him to the towering figures I had stood beside. He was a dwarf.

  A final few minutes of ceremony and I was ushered out to discover my ship, Pearl River, Mr Fong at my side.

  “One last matter, Mr Fong. You will remember the foolish delegation of so-called diplomats sent to Canton not so long back?”

  He snorted his distaste.

  “The foolishly underbred Lord Askham, Mr Jackson? It was wondered why you had not been sent with him – until one spoke to the very silly man, which occurred just once.”

  “I refused to associate with such a character, Mr Fong, Under no circumstances would I have any part in sending such a one to meet civilised men! I requested that he should be dismissed to London as a humiliation to the Company and to all gwailos who had tried to behave in a proper fashion. He had friends in London, I regret to say, had too much power there to be refused. I did such little as I could, Mr Fong, It was possible to ensure that he would travel in a lowly fashion. I could do no more.”

  “As was suspected, Mr Jackson.”

  “I hoped it would be seen that I had no part in so foolish a business. There was a soldier sent as escort, a Major Binks. I wonder, Mr Fong, if it was known what became of him?”

  “The red coat? A truly ignorant fellow, Mr Jackson! He demanded – not asked – to meet with the Hoppo. That was refused and the so-called delegation was ordered out of Whampoa, never to return. They sailed - and ordered the lorcha’s head to be turned towards Canton. The master refused and the ill-conditioned Binks threatened him with death. At that point, the escorting war junks having observed all, soldiers boarded the vessel and took all into proper custody.”

  I had not heard the story, had been certain that they had been put to death but knew nothing of the details.

  “They wished to go to Canton, Mr Jackson, and so were taken there.
The lorcha was dismissed, the master given a small reward for behaving properly. He has been permitted to continue to trade out of Whampoa, in fact, though discouraged from ever returning to Bombay.”

  “Good. I am always glad to hear of an honest man receiving a proper reward.”

  Mr Fong agreed that it should be so.

  “The delegation reached Canton and were placed in the cangue and marched through the streets to the Hoppo’s residence, there to wait outside on his pleasure. The man Askham was dragged the last distance, for collapsing in his weakness. The red coat Binks was rude to the soldiers – though they could not understand his words. The others stood silently and walked with straight backs, which was very manly and attracted a little respect.”

  I was surprised, not by the respect but by politicians being found worthy of it.

  “What of their servants, Mr Fong. I believe they had several.”

  “They did not leave the lorcha.”

  Throats cut out of sight; a pity but they had chosen the wrong masters.

  “The three were quickly disposed of, their heads taken politely. The so-called lord screamed and wailed at the sight and was strangled slowly, being unworthy of honour. Binks was publicly displayed and given an interesting demise. One understands he made much and dishonourable noise.”

  So passed my old schoolmate; not the way I would choose to go.

  Couldn’t have happened to a nicer chap.

  I came to the ship and boarded quietly, Fred trotting behind me and a covey of servants bringing my possessions and taking up residence, informing me that two were to be my personal guards and the others were to serve my person.

  The three females giggled and made it clear what that might entail. Two males announced themselves to be barber and valet. I made them welcome.

  My personal wealth had gone to England under Ainslie’s care. I had nothing else to remove from Bombay.