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

Having passed through the scattering of fishermen’s huts by the water’s edge, they were soon in the thick woods that covered the hill. At first the going was easy. Most of them had walking sticks of some kind. They carried just enough food and wine to have a picnic at the summit.

Gradually the track became steeper. John found that he was sweating a little. He smiled, happy to stretch his legs and get a bit of exercise. They followed a track that circled the big hill, and nearly an hour had passed before, about two-thirds of the way up, they encountered some big outcroppings of rock, where they paused to gaze down at the water, already over a thousand feet below, and feel the breeze on their faces.

During the final part of the climb, the trees thinned and the path broke up into a landscape of scattered rock and tree root. This was hard going, but it didn’t take too long before they reached the summit.

They looked down in awe, from eighteen hundred feet above the water, at the great panorama of Hong Kong.

Finally somebody spoke. “I knew it was a fine harbor, but it’s only up here that you really see the hand of the Creator.”

It was true, thought Trader. Even taken alone, the high, rocky island of Hong Kong would have provided a sheltered channel between itself and the Chinese mainland. But when the monsoon gales came hurtling across the gulf’s broad entrance, they’d have churned those Hong Kong channel waters into a frenzy, had it not been for a blessed protective barrier.

It lay to the west, just a few miles away, between Hong Kong and the gulf—a long, thin island with its own high mountains, which zigzagged across the waters like a Chinese screen. This was Lantau, which formed the western wall of Hong Kong’s huge protected harbor.

But the Creator had done more. Halfway along the Hong Kong channel, China’s huge mainland stuck out a dragon’s tongue at the island. This tongue was the broad low-lying promontory known as Kowloon, and it divided the channel into two parts, west and east, leaving a narrow passage between them. Ships that threaded eastward through this passage came into another, smaller harbor, known as the Bay of Kowloon, within whose intimate embrace they could ride out even a typhoon.

So it was hardly surprising that John Trader should remark: “The Portuguese have got Macao. Perhaps we could take over this place.”

—

The picnic was over and the party was just preparing to go down the hill again when Trader noticed something strange.

Amongst all the vast collection of vessels at the huge anchorage of Hong Kong, there were just two ships of the Royal Navy. Both were small. The Volage carried twenty-eight guns, twelve on each side, plus four more on the quarterdeck, which qualified her to be called a frigate. The Hyacinth was only a sloop, armed with sixteen cannon and a couple of nine-pounders in the bow.

What caught Trader’s eye was a pinnace carrying somebody out to the Volage. Having paused to let its passenger embark, the pinnace went on to the Hyacinth, where it remained for a few minutes. While it waited, he saw the Volage weighing anchor. The Hyacinth shortly followed suit. And then they both began to bear away towards the gulf.

Turning to his companions, Trader pointed. “Why the devil are those two navy ships going off in such a hurry?” he asked. But nobody had any idea.

—

A few hours later, Tully told him the news. “I don’t know why,” he moaned, “but whenever there’s a disaster, it always comes out of the blue.”

“You say a British merchant vessel has come in directly from London? And that it ignored Elliot’s instructions?”

“Yes. Came by way of Bombay. Goes into the Gulf of Canton. Doesn’t stop to ask, just sails through to the Bogue, and when the Chinese tell the captain he has to sign Lin’s bond, he signs the accursed thing as if it’s no more than a ticket to a play and goes straight in to Whampoa.”

“Perhaps he didn’t understand what he was doing.”

“Oh, he knew all right. Didn’t give a damn. And now he’s cut the ground from under our feet. The entire merchant fleet, Elliot, the British government, the lot of us.”

“We could tell Lin it was a mistake.”

“Nonsense. Lin will say: ‘You told me that no British vessel can sign the bond. You lied to me. And if this captain, straight from London, can obey Chinese law, then so can you. End of story.’ In his place, I’d say the same.”

“What’ll we do?”

“Elliot’s taken the Volage and the Hyacinth up the gulf. Supposedly to protect the Hopeful Boys up there, but really to make damn sure they don’t get the same idea and sign the bond themselves.”

“What will Lin do?”

“Who knows? Tell us to sign or get out. I hope we’ll refuse. Then he may cut off our supplies. He can do that. Poison the wells. God knows.”

“Is there going to be a fight?”

Tully considered. “Quite apart from the fact that Elliot’s only got two warships, he doesn’t have authority to start a war.” He paused. “I’m not sure Lin has, either.”

“So no fighting yet.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that. Wars are like riots. They can start by mistake.”

◦

Nio stood outside Shi-Rong’s door. It was evening, and the lamps were lit. For three days they had occupied billets with the artillerymen at the fort, so as to be near at hand. And now it was nearly time.

Nio saw Commissioner Lin approaching and opened the door to announce him. As Lin passed through and Shi-Rong rose respectfully from the table where he was writing, Nio closed the door, but this time he remained inside the room, curious to hear what they said. Neither Shi-Rong nor Lin appeared to notice him.

“Tomorrow morning? You are sure?” Lin asked sharply.

“I am certain, Excellency. Two of my