“So if you allow one mandarin on Hong Kong, you allow the whole system. The mandarin will be a Hoppo. Every Chinese will be subject to him. Every Chinese trader who comes to trade will be ‘sold’ licenses and squeezed, and in turn they’ll squeeze us. The Hoppo will destroy those who will help us and help those who hate us. And they’ll never give up until they drive us out.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re Chinese.” Struan stretched to ease his shoulders, feeling the tiredness creeping over him, then walked over to the sideboard and poured another brandy. I wish I could be Chinese for an hour or so, he thought wearily. Then I’d be able to finesse a million taels from somewhere with nae trouble. If that’s the answer, he told himself, then try to think like a Chinese. You’re the Tai-Pan of the ‘barbarians,’ the mandarin, with unlimited power. What’s the point of power if you dinna use it to twist joss to help yoursel’? How can you use your power?
Who has a million taels? Whom can you pressure to get it? Who owes you favors?
“What should we do, Dirk? I mean, I quite agree,” Longstaff said.
“You’d better send Ti-sen an immediate dispatch. Tell him . . . no, order him—”
Struan stopped abruptly as his brain cleared. His fatigue vanished. You’re a stupid, blathering, half-witted gilly! Ti-sen! Ti-sen’s your key. One mandarin. That’s all you have to arrange. Two simple steps: First, cancel Longstaff’s agreement as it must be canceled anyway; second, in a week or two make a secret offer to Ti-sen that in return for a million in bullion you’ll make Longstaff reverse his stand and allow one mandarin into Hong Kong. Ti-sen will leap at the offer because he immediately gets back everything the war has forced him to concede; he’ll squeeze the Co-hong for the million, and they’ll be delighted to pay because they’ll immediately add it onto the cost of the tea they’re dying to sell us and we’re dying to buy. Poor little Willie’s nae problem and none of the other traders will object to one mandarin. We will na call the man “mandarin,” we’ll invent a new name to throw the cleverest off the scent. “Trade commissioner.” The traders will na object to the Chinese “trade commissioner” because he’ll assist trade and simplify the paying of customs. Now, who to make the secret offer? Obviously old Jin-qua. He’s the richest and the most cunning of the Co-hong and your major supplier, and you’ve known him twenty years. He’s the one, wi’out a doubt.
One mandarin will guarantee the future of The Noble House. Aye. But he will wreck Hong Kong. And destroy the plan. Do you gamble that you make the deal, knowing you’ll have to outsmart them later? That’s a terrible risk—you know one mandarin means the whole system. You canna leave that devil legacy for Robb or for Culum or for their children. But wi’out the bullion there’s nae Noble House and nae future.
“You were saying, Dirk?”
“Order Ti-sen in the queen’s name to forget a mandarin on Hong Kong.”
“My thought entirely.” Longstaff happily sat down at the desk and picked up the quill. “What should I say?”
And what should I do, poor Willie, about the second step? Struan asked himself. Does the end justify the means? “Write this: To Ti-sen at Canton. A Special Proclamation: Only Her Britannic Majesty, Queen Victoria, has the authority to appoint officials in the British Island of Hong Kong. There will be no Chinese officials here and no customshouses whatsoever.’” He hesitated then continued deliberately, sensing that the timing was right, “ ‘And all Chinese residing in Her Majesty’s colony of Hong Kong will henceforth be British subjects and subject only to the laws of England.’ ”
“But that exceeds my authority!”
“It’s custom for plenipotentiaries to exceed their authority. That’s why they’re so carefully selected, Will. That’s why we’ve an Empire. Raffles, Hastings, Clive, Raleigh, Wellington. You have the plenipotentiary authority of Her Majesty’s Government to arrange a treaty with China. What do they know or care about China at home? But you’re an innovator, a maker of history, Will. You’re ready to accept one tiny, barren, almost uninhabited island when it’s a world custom to grab whole continents, when you could take all China if you wanted. You’re so much smarter.”
Longstaff wavered and sucked the top of the quill. “Yes, but I’ve already agreed that Chinese on Hong Kong would be subject to Chinese law, all forms of torture excepted.” A bead of sweat gathered on his chin. “It was a clause in the treaty and I issued a special proclamation.”
“You’ve changed your mind, Will. Just as Ti-sen changed his. There was no clause to appoint a mandarin.”
“But it was understood.”
“Not in your mind. Or mine. He’s trying to dupe you. As he did over Chushan.”
“Quite,” Longstaff agreed, happy to be convinced. “You’re right, Dirk. Absolutely. If we allow any control—you’re right. They’ll go back to their old devilment, what? Yes. And it’s time the Chinese saw what justice really is. Law and order. Yes. You’re right.”
“End the letter like the emperor would: ‘Fear this and tremblingly obey,’ and sign it with your full title,” Struan said and opened the cabin door.
“Master-at-arms!”
“Yes, sirr?”
“His Excellency wants his secretary, Mr. Sinclair, on the double.”
“Yes, sirr.”
Longstaff finished writing. He reread the letter. “Isn’t this a little blunt, Dirk? I mean, none of his titles and finishing up like the emperor’s edict?”
“That’s the whole point. You’ll want to publish it in the newspaper.”
“But it’s a private document.”
“It’s a historic document, Will. One you can be proud of. And one to make the admiral pleased with you. By the way, why was he angry?”
“Oh, the usual.” Longstaff mimicked the admiral. “ ‘Goddamme, sir, we were sent out here to fight the heathen, and after two landings with no resistance to speak of, you’ve made a contemptible treaty which gets us far less than the demands the Foreign Secretary has ordered you to demand. Where are the open ports you were ordered to demand?’ You’re sure, Dirk, asking less is the correct procedure? I know you’ve said so before, but, well, the merchants seem to think it was a bad error. No open ports, I mean.”
“Hong Kong’s more important, Will.”
“So long as you’re sure. The admiral’s also very irritated with some desertions and, too, with the delay in enforcing the order against smuggling. And, well, there’s been a huge outcry by all the traders.”
“Headed by Brock?”
“Yes. Ill-mannered scum.”
Struan’s heart sank. “You told the merchants that you were canceling the order?”
“Well, Dirk, I didn’t exactly tell them. But I intimated that it would be canceled.”
“And you intimated to the admiral that you were canceling the order?”
“Well, I suggested that it was not advisable to proceed. He was most irritated and said that he was making his view known to the Admiralty.” Longstaff sighed and yawned. “ ’Pon me word, he has no conception of the problems. None. I’d be most grateful, Dirk, if you’d explain ‘trade’ to him, what? I tried, but I couldn’t get sense into his head.”