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

Or more precisely, to dig—a huge basin, twenty-five yards by fifty. Then a second and a third. The basins were quite shallow, only a few feet deep. Day after day, a small army of workmen laid flagstones over the bottom of each pit. Then they timbered the sides. There were pipes to carry fresh water from the creek and sluices to allow the contents of each basin to flow out through channels into the river, where each day the tide would carry them out to sea. Across each basin Lin made his men construct broad wooden walkways.

At the same time, carts appeared, laden with sacks of salt and lime, which were stacked under shelters. Lastly he had them make him a small raised platform from which the operation could be supervised. By early June, he was ready to begin.

But before he did, there was one essential duty to perform, which showed so well, Shi-Rong noted, his master’s essential piety and reverence. Accompanied by his staff, Lin went to the local temple that the fishermen used and, making his offerings with deep apologies, warned the sea god that he was obliged to empty large quantities of opium waste into the ocean there. He begged the sea god to tell all the fish to leave.

The men had already been at work for an hour that morning when the Americans appeared. They had requested the visit a couple of days ago and it had been granted.

“The American barbarians may come,” Lin had decided. “With the exception of some, like Delano, they are less engaged in drug smuggling than the English barbarians. They may be less evil.”

Shi-Rong had brought Mr. Singapore with him in case the commissioner wished to speak to the visitors.

They were standing on the platform overlooking the basins. Lin was not wearing his official dress and insignia, but was dressed in a simple tunic with a plain conical hat. A servant held a sunshade on a long bamboo pole high over his head.

On the walkways across the basins, the workmen were stamping the black balls of opium to break them down before sweeping the powdery mess into the water below. They had already disposed of the contents of twenty chests, and Lin intended to destroy eight times that amount during this single day.

As the visitors picked their way through the debris of broken chests littering the area, Commissioner Lin frowned. “I gave permission for three visitors. There are four,” he said sharply.

Shi-Rong looked towards them. For a moment, the glare of the harsh morning light made it difficult to see their faces. Then he recognized Trader. “Excellency, the fourth man is the English scholar I told you about. Do you wish me to send him away?”

“A scholar?” Lin considered. “Let him come.”

Having made their low bows, the four men were allowed to stand a few feet away from the commissioner to watch the work. After dumping a mass of opium into the nearest of the huge pits, the workmen began to add lime and salt. As they did so, other workmen jumped down into the pit and began to stir the watery sludge with paddles. A pungent stink arose. Shi-Rong watched with amusement as the visitors covered their noses and puckered their faces. Even the commissioner allowed himself a wry smile. He and his party were used to the smell.

“Now the barbarians wish they hadn’t come,” he remarked. And then, as soon as the visitors had started to recover: “Bring the English scholar to me.”

—

Mr. Singapore translated. Shi-Rong watched. The commissioner was quite kindly. “Commissioner Lin has heard about you. Although you are a merchant, you have taken your country’s examinations. You are a scholar. You know something of Confucius.”

“This is true,” Trader responded with a polite bow.

“The commissioner believes that you are not without morals. You see that the evil drug that your countrymen have brought here to poison our people is being utterly destroyed, and he hopes that they have learned a lesson. The commissioner asks if you feel ashamed of what they have done.”

Trader did not answer at once. He looked thoughtful. “I am ashamed,” he said at last.

“The commissioner is pleased to hear you say it. It shows that you have a good heart and morals. He asks if you remember the letter he has composed to your queen.”

“I do.”

“The letter is even better now. The commissioner has sent out two copies, but he does not know if they will be given to your queen. He does not have trust.”

“I expect she will see it. But how can I know?”

“The commissioner asks if you know honest scholars in your country.”

“Certainly. My teachers at Oxford are all honest men.”

“The commissioner desires you to take a copy of his letter now, and to send it to honest scholars of your acquaintance, asking them to lay it before your queen. Will you do this?”

Again Trader hesitated a little, but then answered firmly: “I shall be honored, and will do all in my power to ensure that it reaches the queen.” Trader bowed his head. “You have my word.”

Commissioner Lin looked very pleased and indicated to Shi-Rong that he should give Trader a copy of the letter. The interview was over.

After a little time, the barbarians left.

“Do you think he truly repented?” Lin asked Shi-Rong.

“It is hard to tell, Excellency, but I think so.”

Lin nodded. Shi-Rong could see that his master was moved, and he loved him for it.

“It seems,” Lin said reflectively, “that the Lord of Ten Thousand Years can teach virtue even to barbarians.”

◦

The following day, when Trader and Read set out for Macao and their boat passed the place where the opium sludge was being washed into the gulf, Read turned to his young friend and quietly remarked, “You realize that you gave Lin your word that you’d send that letter.”

“I was afraid that he might not let me out of Canton if I didn’t agree to everything he said,” Trader confessed.

“Right. All the same,