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

dragon boats have shadowed them all the way. The headwinds are still slowing the barbarian warships, but by dawn we’ll see them from the promontory. Captain Smith is the commander, but my men believe Elliot is on board.”

“You have done well.” Lin paused a moment. “I was wrong to offer Elliot a compromise over the murder. I was wrong to negotiate with him at all. His actions have shown his true nature. He told me that British captains could never sign the bond. And now we know this was a lie. He despises truth. He despises the law. He’s just a pirate, and we shall act accordingly.” As he turned to leave, Lin glanced at the table. “What were you writing?”

“I was copying a poem, Excellency, by the great Yuan Mei.”

“Good.” Lin nodded. “Whenever possible, in quiet moments, we should attend to calligraphy. This is how a busy servant of the emperor restores his balance and good judgment.” He looked at Shi-Rong thoughtfully. “After this business is over, you should return to your studies and take the exams again. You are capable of holding high office one day. But the examination system—quite rightly—is the only path that leads there.”

After the commissioner had left, Nio could see that Shi-Rong was moved.

—

Soon after dawn, with the wind pressing his back, Shi-Rong stood beside Commissioner Lin on the promontory and gazed through his brass telescope at the choppy grey waters of the gulf.

On the left, near the site where the opium had been destroyed, lay Admiral Guan’s fleet, ready for action; a little farther away, the convoy of British merchant ships, waiting to be allowed up to Whampoa; and in the distance, he could clearly see the Volage and the Hyacinth coming slowly up the gulf towards them.

Lin put out his hand for the telescope, gazed through it for a minute, then turned to Shi-Rong.

“Go to Admiral Guan with this message: If the barbarians want to talk, tell them we do not negotiate with criminals. My suggestion about the murderer is nullified. They must hand over the real murderer at once. No British ship will trade until its captain has signed the bond and submitted to our laws. Take Mr. Singapore the interpreter with you.” He paused. “If the barbarians attack, the admiral has permission to destroy them. That is all.”

“Excellency…” Shi-Rong gave him a hopeful look. “May I remain on board the admiral’s ship—so he can send me back for more instructions?”

“You wish to join the action.” Lin gave a faint smile. “You may stay if you are not in the admiral’s way.”

Nio was waiting with a small dragon boat. It did not take long to reach the admiral’s war junk. Having gone up the side with Mr. Singapore, he delivered his message. To his delight, the admiral agreed he could stay aboard.

“Pull into the shore and wait,” Shi-Rong called down to Nio. “I’ll signal when I need you. If there’s a battle,” he added, “you’ll have a good view.”

—

There was no question, Admiral Guan was a splendid figure: a true Chinese warrior of the old school. Still handsome at nearly sixty, holding himself ramrod straight. He had a big strong face with a thin, drooping mustache, and his eyes were wise but fearless. His courtesy was well known, and he treated the young mandarin as a fellow gentleman. “You hope to see a little action, Mr. Jiang?”

“If there is action, my lord, I wouldn’t want to miss it,” Shi-Rong replied.

“Don’t hope for too much. I’ve sixteen fully armed war junks and a dozen fire boats as well. The British would be foolish to take us on.”

Just then Shi-Rong caught sight of Mr. Singapore standing sorrowfully on the deck, farther aft. He looked like a wilting flower. “Our interpreter is not so eager for battle,” Admiral Guan remarked drily.

It was a couple of hours before the two British naval vessels came close enough to send a cutter, manned by three pairs of oarsmen, across to the admiral’s war junk. A young British naval officer came briskly on board and saluted, followed by a large gentleman who clambered up more slowly and who introduced himself, in quite good Chinese, as Van Buskirk, the missionary.

At a nod from the admiral, Mr. Singapore then delivered, in his best English, the official message from Lin. The naval officer frowned slightly and replied that it would be difficult to offer any culprit for the unfortunate killing of the Chinese villager, since all the men involved had been sent away to England. “Nonetheless,” he continued, “I will return at once with your message and come back to you again with further proposals.” With a polite bow, he then withdrew.

“What do you make of that?” Admiral Guan asked Shi-Rong as the cutter was rowed away. “Surely there’s nothing to talk about.”

“I’m wondering if our interpreter, hoping to keep the peace, may have softened the message.”

Admiral Guan stared bleakly at Mr. Singapore, but said nothing.

When the officer and Van Buskirk returned an hour later, the admiral commanded Shi-Rong: “Tell the missionary exactly what Commissioner Lin said, word for word.”

As Shi-Rong did so, it was clear that Van Buskirk understood him perfectly, while Mr. Singapore looked dismayed. The missionary then carefully delivered the message to the officer, in English. The officer winced slightly and then said, “Oh.”

But now it was Van Buskirk who spoke, in Chinese.

“Will you permit me, Admiral, as an observer, to offer a word? Superintendent Elliot desires to reach an accommodation if he can. But the two naval vessels you see are under the direct command of Captain Smith, a fearless naval commander, like yourself. And if Smith thinks our ships are threatened, he will demand that Elliot permit him to fight.”

“Is he a pirate, like Elliot?” the admiral tersely demanded.

“Elliot is not a pirate, sir.”

“So you say.” Admiral Guan indicated that he would hear no more.

After the delegation left, the remainder of the day passed without any movement from the British ships.

That evening, Mr. Singapore