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

me what you have, I ask you, ‘Why don’t you have more?’ And you say to me, ‘I lost money gambling.’ ”

“I did.”

Sea Dragon stared at Nio. “Do you know why trust is important, Nio? Because if we get into a fight, our lives depend on one another. I have to know that every one of my men has got my back, and I’ve got his. If not, he’s a danger. He has to die.”

“I owe you everything,” Nio repeated. In his code, that could mean only one thing: He’d defend Sea Dragon with his life. In his loyalties, the pirate came before all people, except for his father and one other person.

“I saw you hide the money,” the pirate said quietly. “It’s in a hole beside a tree. I counted it this morning.” There was a brief silence. “You lied to me.”

Nio kept very still. Not a muscle in his face moved. His knife was tucked into the red sash around his waist. Sea Dragon was sitting opposite him, but to one side. If the pirate were to lunge at him, he’d be off-balance, just enough to put himself at a disadvantage, and he must know this. Also that Nio would have noticed the fact.

So he’s not planning to kill me at this moment, Nio calculated. But he watched carefully, just in case.

“It’s not my money,” he said after a pause.

“Yes it is, Nio. What you mean is that you weren’t keeping it for yourself. I think you’re going to give it to that woman you asked me to visit. The one who calls you Little Brother. But why, Nio? She lives in a big house.”

“She married into a rich family. But her parents are the poorest peasants in the village. She has nothing of her own.”

“So every night, before you go to sleep, you think about how you’re going to go and surprise her with a present, and tell her to hide it away and keep it safe for herself. This is the good deed you dream of?”

Nio nodded.

“And you lied to me, even though you knew I would kill you if I found out.” Now Sea Dragon turned to look at him thoughtfully. “You are a brave young fellow, Nio. You’re the best I have.” He sighed. “But I can’t let you lie to me. What are we going to do about that?”

“You tell me,” said Nio. He watched the pirate for the slightest hint of movement, but Sea Dragon was still.

“Keep what you have saved for the woman,” Sea Dragon said quietly. “But you will give the same amount to me, out of what you earn in the future. And you will not leave me before you have paid. Also, you will never lie to me again.”

“I will never lie to you again.”

“Pray to the gods that the opium trade returns.”

Nio nodded. “Maybe,” he said quietly, “we should kill Commissioner Lin.”

◦

If John Trader had supposed that the siege was over, he was in for a rude awakening. Elliot might have promised to surrender the opium, but Lin wasn’t taking him at his word. “I’ll let you go when I have every last opium chest in my possession,” he told the Englishman. “Until then, I’m holding you all hostage.”

“It’s an outrage,” Tully protested to Matheson.

But the largest opium dealer was more philosophic. “In his place, Odstock, would you trust us?” He sighed. “We’ll have to empty the cargo of every ship in the gulf—and beyond. It may take weeks.”

It was the season between the cold dry winds of winter and the wet summer monsoon. The days were hot, the waterfront was dusty, and there was absolutely nowhere to go. Now Trader understood why, every April, the men at the factories were so anxious to leave Canton for the hills and sea breezes on the little island of Macao.

The police and troops, if not quite so numerous, continued their siege. Across Thirteen Factory Street, the local Cantonese would amuse themselves by climbing onto their roofs to watch the Western barbarians trapped below. For many days, no servants came in. Fresh food was hard to get. There was a shortage of water. The drains weren’t getting flushed out. The stink was sometimes terrible. Only gradually, as the opium chests piled up in their thousands at the receiving station that he had set up downriver, did Commissioner Lin somewhat ease the harsh conditions of his Western hostages.

Early in April he allowed them to send some mail downriver. Trader wrote two personal letters. The first was to Charlie Farley. He gave him some account of what had happened, told him that he felt confident they’d receive compensation from the British government—even though he wasn’t really confident at all—and sent friendly greetings to Charlie’s aunt.

The second letter was more difficult. He didn’t dare write to Agnes Lomond herself, but he could write to her mother.

He struck the right tone: respectful, friendly, frank. As a hostess, Mrs. Lomond would like to show her friends that she had a firsthand account of the China affair, so he made sure to give her precise information. At the same time, he played up the danger of the siege, praising the coolness of Elliot and the merchants—which by implication included himself. Above all, for the colonel’s ears, he made clear what an insult this attack was to the British Empire—an insult that couldn’t be allowed to stand. He closed his letter with a polite inquiry as to their family’s good health and with his good wishes to them all, including Agnes.

Why did he write it? There seemed little chance now that he could ever ask for Agnes’s hand. So wasn’t the letter a waste of time? He explained it to himself as courtesy. Keep his reputation for impeccable good manners in the British community. But that wasn’t the whole truth. A deep survival instinct told him never to give up. Not completely. Not even when the game seemed to be over.

The day John sent his letters, Lin