“Timing is very important to the Chinese. Has the order gone yet?”
“Yes. It went yesterday. Ti-sen was kind enough to offer us the use of the imperial horse relay. I sent the order by that.”
Damn your eyes, Struan thought. You impossible fool. “Very bad to use their service for our orders. We’ve lost face and they’ve gained a point. Nae use in sending a ship now.” His voice was cold and hard. “By the time it got to Chushan the evacuation’d be completed. Well, it’s done, and that’s that. But it was unwise. The Chinese will only interpret it as weakness.”
“I thought the act of good faith a splendid idea, splendid,” Longstaff went on, trying to overcome his nervousness. “After all, we’ve everything we want. Their indemnity is light—only six million dollars, and that more than covers the cost of the opium they destroyed. Canton is open to trade again. And we have Hong Kong. At long last.” His eyes were sparkling now. “Everything according to plan. Chushan Island’s unimportant. You said to take it only as an expedient. But Hong Kong’s ours. And Ti-sen said he’d appoint a mandarin for Hong Kong within the month and they’ll—”
“He’ll what?” Struan was aghast.
“He’ll appoint a mandarin for Hong Kong. What’s the matter?”
Hang on to your temper, Struan warned himself with a mighty effort. You’ve been patient all this time. This weak-brained incompetent’s the most necessary tool you have. “Will, if you allow him to do that, you’re giving him power over Hong Kong.”
“Not at all, my dear, fellow, what? Hong Kong’s British. The heathen’ll be under our flag and under our Government. Someone’s got to be in charge of the devils, what? There’s got to be someone to pay the customs dues to. Where better than Hong Kong? They’ll have their own customshouse and buildings and—”
“They’ll what?” the word slammed off the oak bulkheads. “God’s blood, you haven’t agreed to this, I hope?”
“Well, I don’t see anything wrong in it, Dirk, eh? ’Pon me word, it doesn’t change anything, does it? It saves us a lot of trouble. We don’t have to be in Canton. We can do everything from here.”
To stop himself from crushing Longstaff like a bedbug, Struan walked over to the bureau and poured himself a brandy. Hold on. Dinna wreck him now. The timing’s wrong. You’ve got to use him. “Have you agreed with Ti-sen that he
can appoint a mandarin for Hong Kong?”
“Well, my dear fellow, I didn’t exactly agree. It’s not part of the treaty. I just said I agreed it seemed a good idea.”
“Did you do this in writing?”
“Yes. Yesterday.” Longstaff was bewildered by Struan’s intensity. “But isn’t that what we’ve been trying to do for so long? To deal direct with the mandarins and not through the Chinese hong merchants?”
“Aye. But not on our island, by God!” Struan kept his voice level, but he was thinking. You godrotting apology for a leader, you stupid aristocratic indecisive wrong-decisioned dungheap. “If we allow that, we sink Hong Kong. We lose everything.”
Longstaff tugged at the lobe of his ear, wilting under Struan’s eyes.
“Why, Father?” Culum asked.
To Longstaff’s relief, the eyes turned to Culum and he thought, Yes, why? Why do we lose everything, eh? I thought it a simply marvelous arrangement.
“Because they’re Chinese.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know, laddie.” To put away the grief of the loss of his family that suddenly welled up inside him and to take his mind off his frantic worry over the loss of their wealth, he decided to explain—as much for Longstaff as for Culum. “First thing to understand: For fifty centuries the Chinese have called China the Middle Kingdom—the land that the gods have placed between heaven
above and the earth
beneath. By definition a Chinese is a uniquely superior being. They all believe that anyone else—anyone—is a barbarian and of no account. And that they alone have the God-given right, as the only really civilized nation, to rule the earth. As far as they’re concerned, Queen Victoria is a barbarian vassal who should pay tribute. China has nae fleet, nae army, and we can do what we like with her—but they
believe they are the most civilized, the most powerful, the richest—in this I think they’re potentially right—nation on earth. Do you know about the Eight Regulations?”
Culum shook his head.
“Well, these were the terms under which the Emperor of China agreed to trade with ‘barbarians’ a hundred and fifty years ago. The Regulations confined all ‘barbarian’ trade to the single port of Canton. All tea and silk had to be paid for in silver, nae credit whatsoever allowed, and smuggling was forbidden. ‘Barbarians’ were allowed to build warehouses and factories on a plot of land half a mile by two hundred yards at Canton; ‘barbarians’ were totally confined to this walled-in area—the Canton Settlement—and could stay only for the winter shipping season—September until March—when they must leave and go to Macao. Nae ‘barbarian’ families were allowed in the Settlement under any circumstances and all women forbidden. Nae arms whatsoever in the Settlement. Learning Chinese, boating for pleasure, sedan chairs, and mixing with Chinese were forbidden; ‘barbarian’ warships were forbidden the Pearl River estuary. All ‘barbarian’ merchant ships were to anchor at Whampoa, thirteen miles downstream, where cargoes were to be transshipped and export customs tax paid in silver. All ‘barbarian’ business was to be conducted solely through a monopoly, a guild, of ten Chinese merchants which we call the Co-hong. The Co-hong were also the sole suppliers of food, the sole licensor of a set number of servants and boatmen and compradores. And finally, the one regulation that nailed us to the Cross —and the one the treaty cancels—specified that the Co-hong were the only recipients of all ‘barbarian’ petitions, requests and complaints, which would then, and solely by them, be forwarded to the mandarins.
“The whole point of the Regulations was to keep us at arm’s length, to harass us, yet to squeeze every penny out of us. Remember another thing about the Chinese: They love money. But the ‘squeeze’ benefited only the ruling Manchu class, not all Chinese. The Manchus think our ideas—Christianity, Parliament, voting, and above all, equality before the law and a jury system—are revolutionary and dangerous and evil. But they want our bullion.
“Under the Regulations we were defenseless, our trade was controlled and could be squeezed at will. Even so, we made money.” He smiled. “We made a lot of money, and so did they. Most of the Regulations fell apart because of the greed of the officials. The important ones—nae warships, nae official contact other than through the Co-hong merchants, nae wives in Canton, nae staying beyond March or before September—remained in effect.
“And, typically Chinese, the poor Co-hong merchants were made responsible for us. Any ‘complication’ and the wrath of the emperor fell on them. Which is again so completely Chinese. The Co-hong were squeezed and are being squeezed until they go bankrupt, most of them. We own six hundred thousand guineas of their worthless paper. Brock has about as much. In Chinese fashion, the Co-hong have to buy their positions from the emperor and they’re expected to continually send huge ‘presents’ to their superiors—fifty thousand taels of silver is the customary ‘gift’ on the emperor’s birthday from each of them.
“Above the Co-hong is the emperor’s personal squeeze chief. We call him the Hoppo. He’s responsible for squeezing the mandarins at Canton, the Co-hong, and anyone he can. The Hoppo also buys his position—he’s the biggest trader of opium, by the way, and makes a fortune out of it.