China Edward Rutherfurd (essential reading .txt) 📖

so proud when he told Shi-Rong: “I have bought a British warship. Now that we own a barbarian vessel, we can inspect it thoroughly to see how it works.”

The idea had been sound enough, but the results were disappointing. For when they decommissioned the vessel, the British had been devious. “It seems that Elliot had all the cannon removed before he let it go,” Lin had reported sadly. And a month later he confessed: “Our mariners cannot discover how the rigging functions. It is nothing like any boat of ours. I was very angry, but so far they have been quite unable to sail the vessel.”

A use had still been found for the discarded British ship, however. Having loaded it with his own cannon and painted huge eyes on the prow, in the style of a Chinese war junk, Governor Lin had moored it by a sandbar in the Pearl River, just downstream from Whampoa.

“With the shore batteries on either side and this ship in the middle of the river,” he declared, “it will be utterly impossible for the barbarian warships to threaten Guangzhou.”

—

Even so, not all was well in the gulf. “Despite your patrol boats, I hear that opium is being smuggled again in small vessels and even dragon boats,” Lin had told Shi-Rong. “You must put a stop to it. I am counting on you.”

“I shall redouble my efforts, Excellency,” Shi-Rong had promised.

His boats were out patrolling the waters every day. Frequently he went with them himself. He had spies along the coast. He did everything he could think of. He’d caught a few smugglers, too. But he wasn’t satisfied.

And now here was a dragon boat he didn’t know, emerging from a creek not half a mile in front of him. Was it a smuggling vessel? It could be. And the fact that, as soon as they saw him giving chase, its occupants started paddling like fury to get away seemed to confirm his suspicion.

But it was what he’d seen through his brass telescope that really gave him a shock. For sitting in the stern of the dragon boat, apparently in charge of it, was Nio. He was sure of it. He’d seen his face, the telltale scar on his cheek. Why, even the way he sat and urged his men on proclaimed it was him.

Nio, his own servant. The one he had chosen, saved from jail, kept at his side. Trusted. Even grown quite fond of him. Nio, who’d vanished so suddenly, so completely, that he’d wondered if the young fellow might have had an accident or even been murdered.

Well, it seemed he was very much alive. More than that. After all his kindness and trust, Nio had betrayed him. Gone over to the enemy.

Even then, a part of him wanted to greet the young fellow, glad at least that he was alive. But then another thought struck him. How would it look, as he brought the smugglers, bound and in cages, to the governor, if Lin recognized one of them as his secretary’s own servant, who’d been in their close company many times?

What will that say about my judgment, Shi-Rong thought, or my ability to control my own people? Disaster. It must not happen. But neither did he want Nio at large, to be recognized or brought in by somebody else. So when he caught up and the smugglers resisted—as they surely would—then Nio must die.

If need be, Shi-Rong thought, I must kill him myself.

◦

It was the second week of May. Soon the summer monsoon season would come to Calcutta. Already, people were starting to leave for the hill stations.

As John Trader entered Odstocks’ offices, he felt a sense of lassitude at the prospect of a boring day.

He was surprised, therefore, to hear a curious noise coming from Benjamin Odstock’s private office. It sounded as if the portly merchant was having a seizure. Alarmed, he rushed into the snug little room.

Benjamin Odstock was sitting at his desk. In his hand was a letter. And the strange gurgling sound Trader had heard was that of a man chortling with laughter. He stared at Trader for a moment as if he hardly saw him. Then, focusing upon him, he cried out: “The old devil! The old devil!”

“What’s happened?” asked John.

“Ebenezer! My father. That’s what. The old devil. Look!” He thrust the letter into Trader’s hand.

And as Trader began to read, Benjamin Odstock did the strangest thing. Notwithstanding the fact that he was a portly gentleman with snuff stains on his jacket, he placed his two fat little hands together, as if in prayer, and stuffed them between his two fat thighs, and grinned so happily that he looked like a schoolboy.

The letter was terse and to the point. It confirmed that the British government was sending an expedition to China, but that Palmerston still refused to give Parliament any information. Some choice words followed about the humbug of those who objected. As usual, the senior Mr. Odstock listed the aches and pains from which he suffered and that made even the smallest conduct of business such a burden for him. And then at the end he added a further piece of information.

With all the uncertainty in the China trade, the price of tea has fluctuated greatly during recent months. On one day it touched one shilling a pound, on another as high as three shillings. The tea you sent in November has all been sold at close to the highest price. But in addition, acting for the partnership, I made numerous purchases and sales of tea contracts, which have yielded a further profit. I enclose a letter of credit which may be shared between yourself, your brother, and your junior partner also, if you deem that appropriate.

“He’s sent us money,” said Trader, trying to sound calm.

“That’s right.” Benjamin returned to his usual portly self. He gazed at Trader benignly. “Seventy-five thousand pounds, to be precise.”

“Seventy-five thousand!” Trader cried.

“We don’t call our father an old devil for