China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

authorities don’t like it. They don’t want us getting too close to their people. As I’m sure you know, everyone here speaks pidgin English. The Hong merchants, the servants, the people on the waterfront—they all understand pidgin English. You’ll pick it up in no time.” He turned towards the American. “Dr. Parker speaks Chinese, of course, but that’s different.”

The American was a short, bespectacled, clean-shaven man. Looked about thirty.

“You see,” the missionary explained with a smile, “the local people, including the mandarins, come to me for treatment. So they like to be sure we understand each other before I start cutting pieces out of them!”

“I always heard the Chinese were proud of their own medicine,” Trader said.

“Yes. Their acupuncture and herbal cures often work. But when it’s a question of surgery, we’re far ahead, and they know it. So they come to us.”

“They’re nothing but quacks,” said Tully firmly.

“We shouldn’t be too proud,” Parker said sensibly. “Don’t forget, sir, it’s not so long since surgery in London was performed by barbers.”

Remembering Van Buskirk handing out tracts to the Chinese smugglers, Trader asked Parker if he was able to make any converts in Canton.

“Not yet,” Parker replied. “But I hope, one day, to earn enough respect as a doctor for them to respect my faith as well. I have to be patient, that’s all.”

“Test of faith, eh?” said Tully Odstock.

“You could say that,” Parker replied quietly. Then he gave Trader a kind look. “Mr. Odstock tells me that you have a degree from Oxford University. That’s impressive.”

“Ah,” said John Trader. And just for a moment he hesitated.

He knew—he’d taken the trouble to find out—that both Matheson and Jardine had Edinburgh degrees. That of Jardine was in medicine. But for a merchant or a city man to have a university degree was unusual. In the army and navy, it was unheard of. Men with intellectual interests were regarded with suspicion.

There was, however, one way a man could go to Oxford and still show the outside world he was a decent fellow. And that was to take a pass degree.

Clever, studious men took honors degrees. Decent fellows with no intellectual pretensions could opt for a far less rigorous examination, enjoy themselves, and take a humble pass degree, which really signified that they’d been at the place, they could read and write, and they’d learned to drink like a gentleman. John knew one man who swore he’d passed three years at Oxford without ever reading a book.

“My guardian wanted me to go to Oxford,” said John. “I learned a bit, I suppose, but I only took a pass degree, you know.”

In fact, it wasn’t true. He’d taken honors. But he’d thought it wiser to tell people in Calcutta that he’d only taken a pass degree, and he was sticking to his story.

During the meal, the threat from the commissioner was further discussed. Tully told them what Delano had said, which was well received. Everyone agreed that they’d play a waiting game. Dent thumped the table and said that if the commissioner gave any trouble they should all grab the damn fellow and toss him into the river. As the just-arrived new boy, Trader listened without offering any opinions.

But as he silently watched this handful of merchants facing the possibility of massive loss, this small collection of undefended men sitting on a tiny strip of land, while all around them lay a vast empire of millions who could overwhelm them in a minute if they chose, he couldn’t help admiring them. They might be arrogant; they certainly didn’t occupy any moral high ground; but for all that, as they sat coolly in their club, he found them reassuringly British.

When the dessert was served, however, he did venture to ask a question. “There is something I don’t understand,” he confessed to Matheson. “In India, we have the East India Company army to protect our trade. We haven’t any military force here in China, though there is a British government representative called the superintendent. So my question is, if British trade is at risk and the livelihood of British merchants threatened, what’s the superintendent going to do about it?”

“Elliot!” cried Tully Odstock, and snorted. “Nothing! Useless fella. Won’t do a thing.” And there were murmurs of approval at this outburst.

“Captain Elliot,” replied Matheson calmly, “as you see, is not very popular. He went to Macao the other day, and no doubt he’ll return here soon.”

“Why is he disliked?” asked Trader.

“Partly, I think, because he’s an aristocrat,” answered Matheson. “Two of his cousins are lords—one is governor general of India, the other’s in the cabinet. At least one of his family’s an admiral. We merchants don’t feel he likes us much. And he certainly doesn’t like the opium trade. Disapproves of it, in fact, and therefore disapproves of us.”

“Why doesn’t the damn fella go and work for the emperor of China, then?” Tully interrupted.

“Elliot’s obliged to safeguard our interests, of course,” Matheson continued, “because the tea we import from China is highly valuable to the British government. So is the cotton we sell to China—though despite the eagerness of our mill owners in England, I can assure you that the Chinese market will never absorb enough cotton to pay for all the tea we need to buy.”

“All well and good, Matheson,” said Tully Odstock. “But if things get rough—and they could—I want a fellow I can trust watching my back. Not a man who’s practically on the Chinese side. As for his morals, once a man gets on a moral high horse, you never know what he’s going to do. We could lose everything.”

“We must keep cool,” said Matheson.

“I am cool,” said Tully hotly.

“But you are wrong about Elliot if you think he’s sympathetic to China,” Matheson continued. “In fact, I would argue the exact reverse.”

“Damned if I see why.”

“I’ve observed Elliot carefully. He’s an aristocrat, an imperialist, perhaps a diplomatist. Now consider the case of China. A proud empire that sees itself as above all others. If we