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

didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, the assistant appeared again at the door. “The governor will see you now, Mr. Read.”

A quarter of an hour later, Read reappeared, waving some papers and looking happy. “Everything we need. Time to go,” he said briskly.

“Are we going up to your lodgings?” Trader asked as they stepped out onto the Praia Grande.

“I am. You aren’t,” Read said firmly. “You’d better go out to the ship right away. Have the men paint the new name on the bow while I get my things together. We’ll sail before evening.”

—

While one of the crew painted in the letters—Yankee Lady—that he’d chalked on the bow, Trader stared across the water to Macao, where, high on its hill, the empty cathedral facade gleamed in the sunlight. And he thought about Marissa.

—

“You’re all set now,” Trader said with a nod when Read finally arrived. “So I’ll go ashore. It’ll be easy to find a boat to take me from Macao back to Hong Kong.”

Read gave him a curious look. “I’ll need you in Canton, Trader,” he said firmly. “You know this Chinese merchant, Joker. You tell him it’s all right to deal with me. Otherwise I don’t sail.” Trader wasn’t pleased, though he supposed there wasn’t much he could do about it.

As they sailed up the gulf that night, however, he did venture to ask: “How is Marissa?”

“She’s all right.”

“Does she have a new lover?”

“None of your business,” Read answered. A minute went by. “When you’ve left a young woman, Trader,” Read said, “don’t go back. You only hurt ’em more.”

—

In the morning, at the Bogue, Read presented his papers and signed the bond guaranteeing he carried no opium. Two officials quickly inspected the hold and gave Read his pass to proceed. Before noon he and Trader were ashore at Whampoa, and by late afternoon, they were making their way from the Canton factories to the house of old Joker.

The dignified Hong merchant was delighted to see them. “Mr. Trader.” He beamed. “Long time no see. Your friend wants tea?”

And the next morning he insisted upon coming with them downstream to Whampoa, to ensure that their vessel was properly loaded with all the tea it could carry.

—

When he inspected their cargo, Tully Odstock was very pleased indeed. He gave a warm grunt of approval, shook hands with Read, and patted Trader on the back. “I never thought you’d be back so soon,” he confessed.

“We left Macao the same day I arrived,” Trader explained. “And we came straight to Hong Kong from Whampoa.”

Tully was entirely happy with the terms Read and Trader had agreed to and paid Read on the spot.

“Care to go back again for more?” he asked the American.

“Soon as you like.”

That night they all dined together on board Tully’s ship. Then Read said he wanted to talk to Odstock alone, so Trader went on deck and watched the sun go down. From where the ship was anchored, he could see out past a scattering of islands to the sea beyond. High above, the dark green heights of the Peak caught the sun’s red rays, then slowly turned from orange green to indigo and finally, as Read emerged, to black.

“I’m going back to the ship,” said Read. “We’re transferring the tea to a larger vessel tomorrow. Then I’ll go to Whampoa again for more.”

“Will I be coming with you?”

“No, Odstock wants you here. Goodnight.”

After he had gone, Trader remained on deck for a while. The night sky was bright with stars. He thought of Marissa again. He had a great urge to see her. Maybe not to speak to her, but just to look at her. He wondered if perhaps he could slip over to Macao on some pretext.

Finally he went below. Tully was in his hammock, still awake. In the lamplight, it seemed to Trader that the older man gave him a somewhat thoughtful look. But Tully didn’t say anything, so Trader closed his eyes and went to sleep.

—

The next couple of weeks passed quietly enough. Read undertook two more voyages to Whampoa to bring out tea; on the second voyage, he was able to go in with a cargo of cotton as well.

But if Read was busy, Trader was not. Three times he asked Tully if he could visit Macao, and each time Tully refused. So like everyone else, he was obliged to spend most of his time confined on board, though he and Tully would also visit their friends on other ships in search of gossip and amusement. And news, of course; but news was in short supply.

—

“The fact is, there won’t be any news,” said Tully, “and I’ll tell you why. What you have here is a stalemate. It’s a simple point of principle. The Chinese are saying: ‘When in China, obey our laws.’ We’re saying no. All the rest is humbug. Lin says, ‘Tell you what, we’ll forget about that villager you killed if you just agree to obey our laws in the future.’ Humbug. Elliot’s just told Lin: ‘You can inspect our ships, check there’s no opium on board before you let us upriver. But we’re not subject to your laws. Won’t sign your bond.’ More humbug.”

“I’ve heard,” said Trader, “that some of the British vessels are entering the river so that if Lin were to agree to let them through after inspection, they’ll race up to Whampoa and get the best tea first.”

“I know. I call them the Hopeful Boys. They can sit in the river all they like, but Lin isn’t going to fall for it. Point of principle. Sign the bond. Obey our law or go to hell.”

“Elliot’s just playing for time, isn’t he?”

“Waiting for the navy, I’d say.” Tully shrugged. “If London decides to send it.”

But there was no news from London. Not a word.

—

It was a clear, sunny day when a party of a dozen young fellows, sick of being cooped up on their ships, set out to climb