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

approached Shi-Rong. “The admiral has no confidence in me,” he said sadly. “And the barbarian missionary speaks Chinese anyway. I should offer my resignation and ask the admiral’s permission to withdraw.”

When Shi-Rong gave the message to the admiral, that worthy man only grunted. “He’s afraid there may be a fight,” he said. “Tell him he’s not to leave. Permission denied.”

Later, as they ate together in the admiral’s stateroom on board, Shi-Rong asked the old commander what he thought would happen next.

“If your enemy is strong,” Guan answered, “he attacks. If he hesitates, it means that he is weak. Every Chinese commander knows this. The barbarians hesitate because they know that if there’s a battle, they will lose.” He gave a nod. “But I will tell you something interesting: It is possible to win a battle without fighting.”

“How is that done, Lord?”

“I will show you,” Guan told him, “in the morning.”

—

The sun was already up when the admiral made his move. Shi-Rong stood at his side as the entire fleet of twenty-eight vessels, war junks and fire ships combined, sailed out into the gulf towards the British merchantmen.

“We’re going to place ourselves between the merchantmen and the naval ships,” Admiral Guan explained. “From there we can send in our fire ships to burn them any time we want.”

“But you won’t actually engage.”

“Correct. The British warships will then be left with only two options. They must either attack us or withdraw themselves and the merchantmen.”

“So you’re forcing them either to fight or to be humiliated. You can win a battle without firing a shot.”

“Exactly.”

—

For the next quarter of an hour, as the Chinese fleet moved slowly down the gulf, neither man spoke. Gazing southwards through his telescope, Shi-Rong did not detect any movement on the part of the British ships. He did notice a single merchantman in the distance, making its way up the gulf towards them; but he couldn’t see what flag it was flying.

He was quite surprised when the admiral suddenly turned to him and remarked: “The emperor would not consider we are acting irresponsibly. Do you agree?”

It hadn’t occurred to Shi-Rong that the tough old admiral might be troubled by such doubts. He understood, of course. In the great bureaucracy of the Empire under Heaven, no man was likely to rise to high rank if he hadn’t mastered the gentle art of guessing the emperor’s intentions and protecting his back from his friends.

“We are not attacking, Lord,” he offered.

“One could argue we’re provoking a fight.”

Shi-Rong thought for a moment and chose his words carefully. “Commissioner Lin was clear that Elliot has proved himself to be a pirate—and therefore should be treated as such.”

The admiral nodded, then fell silent. Looking through his telescope again, Shi-Rong could now see that the ship in the distance was flying a British ensign. He continued to follow its progress. “That’s interesting,” he muttered. After a while, he turned to the admiral.

“There’s a British merchant ship approaching, Lord. But it’s not heading for the other merchantmen. I think it’s heading straight for the Bogue.” He handed the admiral his telescope.

Guan gazed for some time. “You’re right. So, yet another ship from Britain is ready to respect the law and sign the bond.”

And Shi-Rong was just about to agree when suddenly a puff of smoke was seen from the Volage, followed by a distant roar.

“Did you see that?” he exclaimed. “Elliot just put a shot across the merchant’s bow.” He gazed in astonishment. “The merchant’s turning back.”

“Good.” Guan gave a sharp nod. “If that isn’t the act of a pirate, then I don’t know what is.” He looked at Shi-Rong for confirmation.

“Elliot is a pirate, Lord. He just proved it.”

—

They had dropped anchor at their carefully chosen station when the cutter reappeared. As before, it contained the young officer and Van Buskirk. Shi-Rong moved to the side, with Mr. Singapore.

The messengers in the boat below didn’t even ask to come aboard and ignored Mr. Singapore entirely. Van Buskirk called up to Shi-Rong in Chinese. “Captain Smith requires that you move away directly. You are threatening British merchant vessels.”

“We have done nothing,” Shi-Rong replied.

“Will you move?”

“No.”

Moments later, the oarsmen pulled away, back to the Volage.

Half an hour passed. Neither side took any action. Midday was approaching.

“As I thought,” said the admiral. “They are weak. They are weak.”

But at noon the British warships began to advance. And the admiral gave the order that his line of ships should come out to meet them.

—

There was nothing much to fear. As the Volage, followed by the Hyacinth, began to run up the Chinese line, Shi-Rong couldn’t imagine they’d get far. Two barbarian ships against sixteen war junks, not counting the fire ships.

The admiral’s war junk was larger than the rest. Its broad decks carried six cannon on each side; nearly two hundred mariners, armed to the teeth, waited there also. Above them, from the high deck at the stern, Shi-Rong and the admiral had a good view up and down the line of ships in each direction.

As the Volage came level with the first war junk, it was met with fire from the Chinese cannon, one bang after another, aimed at its sails and rigging. Then a huge volley of arrows flew like a swarm of flies into the sky and rained down upon the British decks.

The Volage was moving through the water faster than Shi-Rong expected. Evidently the cannonballs had not done enough to slow her down. Through his telescope, he tried to see the casualties from the volley of arrows. But although the Volage was going into battle, it seemed that her decks were nearly bare of troops. How did they propose to grapple and board?

Then the Volage fired a broadside.

Shi-Rong had never seen a British Navy broadside. It was nothing like the firing of individual cannon from a Chinese war junk. The whole side of the British vessel erupted with a flash, a cloud of smoke, and a mighty roar like a thunderclap,