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

Meeting him in the street one morning, Elliot told him frankly: “Our friend the Portuguese governor is furious about the supplies and the threatening behavior. His domain is Portuguese territory, and he’s prepared to defend it if he has to. I can’t fault his courage. But I have to consider the safety of all our people. We may have to leave.”

“Where would we go?”

“Hong Kong.”

“But there’s nothing there except the anchorage. Are we going to camp on the beach?”

“No. We can live on our ships. It won’t be enjoyable, but we should be safe. We can stay there a few months and see what happens.”

“So I’d better get ready to leave Macao,” Trader said sadly.

Elliot gave him an understanding smile. Obviously he knew about Marissa.

“I’m afraid so. All good things come to an end,” he added quietly.

“Living bottled up in ships sounds like hell,” Trader said morosely. Elliot didn’t contradict him.

And that afternoon, the superintendent made it official, telling the whole community they must prepare to leave. The day after, he set off himself, to prepare the arrangements in the great empty harbor at Hong Kong.

—

On the twenty-fifth day of August, Commissioner Lin informed the Portuguese governor of Macao that the British people on his island should leave. The Chinese war junks now arriving would not impede their departure. All other nationals might remain, including the Americans, so long as they were not engaged in the opium trade.

John Trader was one of the last to leave the island. His final afternoon, he went for a walk with Read. As he was an American, Read could stay.

“I shall miss your company, Read,” said John.

“We shall meet again.”

“Certainly. I owe you money.”

“You’ll pay when you can.”

“What do you think is going to happen?”

“The opium trade will resume. It has to.”

“Why?”

“Because this year’s crop is already grown in India. Some of it is on the high seas already. It seems to me that destroying drugs is a waste of time. Lin’s just created a pent-up demand for the next supply. And it’ll get through—somehow or other. Exactly how remains to be seen.”

“I hope you’re right, for both our sakes.” Trader paused. They were standing by the cannon, looking out across the island and the sea. “I must confess,” he remarked sadly, “I’m starting to wish I were selling something else. Something that does people good. Something really necessary.” He sighed.

“Trading in something that’s not bad is certainly possible. Most people do. But trading in something necessary…” Read grinned. “That’s another matter. That’s hard to do.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is, Trader. Do you know how my ancestors made their first money? On the Hudson River in old New York. You know what that trade was? Beaver pelts. Bought from America’s Indians. To make felt hats. Felt hats were all the rage in England. Other countries, too. Were they useful? Yes. Were they necessary? Not really. Felt was the fashion. That’s all. Yet that’s how the great city of New York began. Same with tobacco. Is it necessary? No. Or the mighty trade in sugar? Needed? Only partly. A lot of the sugar crop goes into rum, for the sailors of the British Navy. How did that begin? The men who owned the sugar plantations were producing too much. Prices were falling. So the powerful sugar interest lobbied the British Parliament to give a tot of rum to every British sailor every day. The British Navy drank the rum and kept the price of sugar up.”

“And now we sell tea.”

“Exactly. China tea. No harm in tea at all. And the British consumption of tea is one of the wonders of the modern world. But could the British do without their cup of tea? Of course they could. Very little of what we do, my friend, is necessary.” He nodded. “It’s a humbling thought.”

“But opium’s bad.”

“Opium’s bad.”

“Yet you’re helping me.”

“You’re a friend, Trader. Nobody’s perfect.” He smiled. “So there you go.”

“I’m worried about Marissa, Read. I feel bad about leaving her.”

“Sure. Were you going to marry her?”

“No.”

“Did you give her a parting present?”

“Yes. I’m giving it to her in the morning, when I leave.”

“She’ll be all right.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

“Will you keep an eye on her, look after her?”

Read gazed at him. Was there something a little strange in his look as he smiled? “I’ll do that,” Read said.

—

Mrs. Willems made them all a meal that evening, and then John Trader spent the night with Marissa, and they made passionate love, and he told her he didn’t want to go, and she told him she knew he didn’t have any choice, and she was sad. But though she looked sad, she wasn’t going to cry, and she smiled bravely, and they made love again. And he loved and admired her very much, although it seemed to him that even now, maybe, he didn’t really know her.

She was pleased with her presents. And if she cried after he was gone, he didn’t see it.

Read went with him to his lodgings. Tully had left the day before, but Trader’s chests and valises were all ready, and two men put them on a cart and hauled them to the quay.

Then Trader got into the jolly boat with his possessions. He shook Read’s hand and was rowed out to the ship anchored in the Macao Roads.

When Trader and his bags were aboard, he found that he was the last passenger to embark, and soon afterwards the ship was ready to weigh anchor.

As he stood by the side of the ship, a friendly sailor addressed him. “All aboard then, sir?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” John stared across the water at the distant quay.

“Been to Hong Kong before, sir?”

“No.”

“Pity about the water.”

“Water? What water?”

“The drinking water at Hong Kong, sir. Haven’t you heard?”

“I’ve heard nothing. What do you mean?”

“Oh, very nasty, sir. The Chinese have put up signs by all the wells on Hong Kong and the shores around there, to say that they’ve been poisoned. The wells, I mean.