China by Edward Rutherfurd (latest novels to read TXT) 📗

start of the afternoon came word that Captain Elliot, the superintendent, was on his way back from Macao. “It doesn’t say when he’ll arrive,” Matheson told them, “even if the Chinese authorities let him through.”

“Why would they stop him?” Trader asked Matheson.

“They may want to keep us isolated.”

“Can’t see what use he’ll be if he does get here,” grunted Tully, “unless he brings a battleship.”

—

The rowing boat appeared on the river about twenty minutes after five—a small clinker-built vessel, hardly twenty feet long, with half a dozen oarsmen. At first no one took any notice of it.

The afternoon had turned cloudy and the river looked grey, but a break in the clouds opened a yellow gash across the water, and it was Trader, standing on the riverbank, who noticed the sunlight catch the blue and gold of a naval tunic in the stern of the rowing boat, guessed what this must mean, and ran to alert Matheson and the others.

—

It can’t be easy, Trader thought, for a single man to look impressive when he’s clambering out of a rowing boat. But insofar as it was possible, Elliot achieved it.

He was in full dress naval uniform. His sword hung at his side. He was a good height, and with a plumed hat on his head, he seemed taller. He straightened himself, went across to the group of merchants gathered to meet him, and announced: “Gentlemen, you are now under my protection.”

And Trader stared at him in surprise.

He knew Charles Elliot was about thirty-five and had risen to the rank of captain in the British Navy. So he’d expected a seasoned, hard-faced commander. In front of him, however, was one of those fair-complexioned Englishmen who continue to look like schoolboys until they are forty. There was even a light down on his cheek. His pale blue eyes, Trader thought, might have belonged to an intelligent clergyman. And when he spoke, it was with a faint lisp.

And this was the man who’d just announced he’d protect them. If Trader had privately thought Tully Odstock was too dismissive of Elliot, at least now he could see why.

“I shall call a general meeting of all the factories this evening,” Elliot announced. “But first, Matheson, you and your colleagues must tell me exactly what’s been happening. In the meantime,” he added as they reached the entrance to the English factory, “would young Mr. Jardine kindly see that the Union Jack is flying on the flagstaff here.”

As Elliot entered, Trader remained outside. He didn’t think he’d be required while the superintendent was closeted with Matheson and the other senior men. He preferred to walk alone for a little while and absorb what he’d witnessed.

So he was down at the far end of the quay, sitting on the same iron mooring post where he’d sat so wretchedly three evenings ago, and idly watching a small Chinese chop boat, with lanterns lit, go past, when he realized that the chop boat was turning and heading towards him, to the dock. He stood up and moved away from the mooring post. The chop boat drew alongside.

And in it Trader saw a burly form with a cigar jutting from his mouth. It was Read, the American.

“Evening, Trader,” he called out cheerfully. “Thought I’d drop by. Didn’t want to miss the fun.” He stepped ashore and shook Trader’s hand.

“God, I’m pleased to see you,” Trader burst out. “Have you any idea what’s going to happen?”

“Not a clue. I’ll take my bag to the American factory, then come across to you fellows. Have you got any whiskey in there?”

—

There were more than forty men gathered in the big room in the English factory: mostly British and Americans, some Parsee merchants from India, and a few merchants from other nations. The two merchants from the Hong were also present. Trader and Tully Odstock sat in the back row, with the Americans Read and Delano beside them.

Elliot might speak with a slight lisp, but he came to the point tersely. “Gentlemen, you must all be prepared to leave Canton, with all your possessions, at once. Our trade can be continued, if necessary from the open sea; but the attitude of the Chinese authorities is such that, although no violence has been offered yet, I cannot guarantee your future safety in Canton.”

“As I understand it, they’re not allowing anyone to leave here,” Matheson pointed out.

“I shall demand passports straightaway for all those who wish to leave.”

“And if we are threatened with violence?” Matheson pressed him.

“Then we may thank God,” Elliot replied firmly, “that we have a British man-of-war out past the Bogue. I also know that there are two American warships, the Columbia and the John Adams, expected any moment at Macao. Naturally our own man-of-war stands ready to protect all our friends here at Canton, and I hope I may count upon assistance from the American warships in turn.”

“That you may!” Read and Delano called out loudly.

The meeting broke up. And perhaps because Elliot had spoken so clearly, with the Americans supporting him, Trader felt a bit more encouraged as he and Odstock were leaving. “Elliot sounded firm,” he suggested.

But Tully only sniffed. “That British man-of-war—the one he says will save us. Have you any idea how it’s going to get upriver past the Chinese shore batteries?”

“No,” Trader confessed.

“Well, nor has he,” said Tully, and went to bed.

—

By nine o’clock in the morning, they’d all heard the news. “No passports. The Chinese have refused. Point-blank. No one’s to leave,” Matheson told them in the factory library.

“We’re trapped like rats in a barrel,” Tully muttered.

“Our Chinese servants have all disappeared,” somebody called out.

“It’s a game of bluff,” Matheson reminded each arrival. “We just need to stay calm.”

Soon afterwards, they saw Chinese officers riding small sturdy horses issuing from the alleys onto the waterfront. They made for the two little customs booths, where they tethered their mounts. Next, from the mouths of the alleys, men on foot began to emerge. Five, ten, twenty,