Читать книгу The Secret Mandarin - Sara Sheridan, Sara Sheridan - Страница 9

Robert busied himself with his preparations. There were only three weeks before he was due to sail for the Chinese mainland and leave me behind. In that time he had to engage a guide, sell the plants he had brought with him and make plans for his journey. I was to settle. Given that I liked the island and was most diverted by its delights after the long confinement of the voyage, I found this surprisingly difficult. Banishment is an unpleasant sensation. I continued both angry and frustrated but hid my feelings from all around. The August weather was stifling and without the breeze of the moving ship the humidity sunk me. There had been a malaria outbreak at the barracks at Happy Valley and the town was greatly concerned—hundreds of soldiers had died and there seemed no containing the spread of the disease. Some of the ladies refused to go out at all.

Robert was pragmatic. He had no time for such fancies. Major Vernon, the head of the battalion, visited our lodgings shortly after our arrival. The marshy ground at Happy Valley was conducive to the epidemic and Robert recommended vegetation to counteract its effects. Vernon commenced planting straight away. Thus introduced to the British community as an expert and a welcome addition to their ranks, Robert’s now-forsaken job at the Royal Society made him friends easily and he visited someone new every day. He brought plant cuttings for the enthusiasts and snippets of news about London—changes to familiar streets, accounts of mutual acquaintances and detailed descriptions of new planting in Kew Gardens, Hyde Park and Chelsea. It seemed such was the excitement of receiving fresh news that most people were prepared to disregard the danger of us contaminating them. Nor did Robert consider that our new acquaintances might contaminate us. The contact was too valuable.

His new friends helped him plan his journey, poring over maps for hours, telling of the dangers in taking on the mandarins, who were the ruling class in the interior, and volunteering letters of recommendation to the few European missionaries living inside. China’s borders were closed to white men. Only five of her ports had any kind of British community and those had only become official since we won the war the year before. The ports supported British trade in the region, but the Chinese were hostile and resentful of our victory and the enforced terms we had imposed. We made them buy our Indian opium but the Emperor had banned his people from taking the drug as he considered it dangerous. I had seen what opium could do—there were dens in the West End, I knew, where some chased the dragon to the detriment of everything else. But then there were those who could not rise without their shot of brandy either. Some people will fall victim to anything for it is in their nature, but that is no reason, to my mind, to ban a drug outright. Such extremes are a far cry from the laudanum that I and my friends sometimes relied on for a touch of comfort. Why, even Jane used the tincture from time to time, when she had the cramp and the apothecary recommended a grain or two. The Emperor’s stance seemed some kind of hysterical reaction to me.

Of greater threat to his empire, as far as I could see, was Robert’s mission. Tea was China’s greatest export and the Emperor’s men guarded the tea plants and the secrets of their production carefully. In this venture my brother-in-law was taking his life in his hands—the Chinese would kill him and his entourage if they knew what he was up to. In Hong Kong, however, everyone rallied to the pluck of Robert’s expedition and in the fine mansions on the slopes of the Peak all appeared to have one or two scraps of information about the interior that were invaluable in planning the trip. It would have been difficult to continue without such help and people were extremely generous.

I was invited on all these visits. I expect Robert was keen to present me as much as he could to maximise my chances of finding employment and also to establish me so I was less likely to leave.

‘My wife’s sister has decided to settle here,’ he would say. ‘Might I ask you to keep an eye to her interests while I am gone? No, no she is Miss Penney. Quite unmarried. For the time being in any case.’

Had my skin not been swollen pink and puffy with the heat I am sure it would have crawled with discomfort, but his words washed over me as if the opium that had won us the island was embedded in the hot, heavy air. Distracted by the activity that Robert generated in making his plans, it was as if I had simply disappeared.

One afternoon Robert returned to the lodging house with a Chinaman he had engaged down at the bay. The man was underfed and fell upon the bread and tea sent up for him from the kitchen as Robert quizzed him in my presence. In a mixture of Cantonese, which Robert had studied for some months now, and the man’s patchy English, it became clear he was from Hwuy-chow, one of the tea countries Robert had determined to visit. His name was Sing Hoo.

I admit I did not take to Sing Hoo. He had been poorly treated and unlucky in seeking his fortune, that much was clear. But he had a shifty look about him as if he was always sizing up the possibilities. When he finished his tea he tapped the side of the porcelain surreptitiously as if checking its quality. When he realised I had seen this he shifted uncomfortably.

‘The Chinese will not meet a woman’s eye,’ Robert commented sagely for he had not noticed Sing Hoo’s action—only seen my stare and the Chinaman turn his head away.

I said nothing.

Over the following day or two Robert listened to everything Sing Hoo had to say about tea. He had been brought up on a smallholding and had grown tea plants there since his childhood.

‘Can you take me there? Can you show me this?’ Robert asked each time a particular process was detailed.

Interspersed with more general questions of horticultural interest, Robert took copious notes of everything, any detail about the soil, the weather or the farming of the tea plant. When Sing Hoo explained the process of drying the picked leaves, heat levels used or aromas added, Robert drew what he understood—a drying rack or a mixing bowl, and Sing Hoo hooted with laughter, grabbed the drawing paper and amended the sketch.

After two or three days the man lost his hungry look, but my view was still that his eye was to the main chance. When Robert opened his maps and called Sing Hoo to help plan the expedition he became vague and uncooperative. Distrustful, I expect that if he told what he knew he might no longer be needed. Robert’s face showed his frustration as he tried to find details of jurisdictions and journey times, navigating the strange interior at a distance to foresee as much as he could. I knew he was finding ways to send home seeds and plants no matter what might happen to him once he crossed the forbidden boundary into China’s interior.

I passed my time walking out. I felt an affinity with the island. The freedom to wander was most welcome after the confinement of the ship and Hong Kong felt like a vast and exciting half-discovered world—an alien dream that entranced me with its lush greenness. There was plenty to see. Splashes of vibrant colour burst from the foliage—an abundance of fascinating, angular pink, red and orange flowers I did not know the names for. I never asked. I did not want Robert to launch into an explanation that would diminish their exotic magic with details of pollination or water systems.

I liked the calm water of the bay in contrast with the bustling dock. I liked the stacked baskets of chickens and the sheen of the brightly coloured satin displayed in its bales. The toothless ancients outside the little temples fascinated me, their bodies like stick insects, angular and dry as they sat in the shade and begged alms. Dusty-skinned Chinese children hovered nearby their fathers who had fought in the war. There were many missing an arm or a leg and others with scars on their faces where hand-to-hand combat had torn their skin to pieces. Still-eyed, bony and eager they watched me as I passed. Their children, fingers twitching, all set to cut my purse should the chance arise, the bolder ones circling at a safe distance like birds round a fishing boat, ready to swoop. With my heart racing at the thrill of my proximity to something so foreign and dangerous, I hovered only on the fringes of their territory, never entering the fetid shanty town itself. I peered down the narrow, hot streets that ran with stinking, steaming excrement over the beaten earth and came as close as I could. It was like holding an entrancing but venomous snake that might strike at any moment. I was fascinated, but I kept it at arm’s length.

It was on one of my expeditions I encountered Wang. Abandoning my attraction to the shanty for the day, I had decided to hike up the hill to take in the view of the bay. It was a difficult climb with only a muddy pebble track but I was sure it would be worth the effort. The top of the Peak was very high and the outlook undoubtedly spectacular. Robert had gone to the other side of the island to sell some of his plants and had no need for or interest in my company. After lunch I set off with only a flask of boiled water to sustain me.

I started fine. The road was not too steep but as I climbed higher the gradient increased dramatically. I was not a third of the way up when I decided that this was not an expedition for a solitary lady. My boots stung and I was perspiring furiously. I found a large rock to lean against and sipped the water.

‘I had best go down,’ I thought.

I did not want to be beaten by the hill, however, and I resolved to try again another day with more appropriate footwear and stays less closely bound. The view was already opening out. To the west I could see smoke rising from a thousand cooking fires down in the grubby settlement and ant-like figures moving along the makeshift alleyways. Every one of them appeared to carry a parcel of some kind either bound to their backs or carried in front. I would come back, I decided to enjoy this view again, and climb even higher.

The air had been thick all day. Close to the sea my guess was that a refreshing breeze might come off the water, but the weather defied such expectations. We were not in Europe any more. Now, within seconds, a tropical rain shower broke. I pulled myself under a large, flat-leafed tree but it did not afford much protection. My skirt was soaked immediately and I watched horrified as the path I had followed up the hill flooded into a muddy morass and the pebbles that had helped me to keep my foothold became as slippery as polished glass. I had been gone from the lodgings less than an hour. Getting back was going to take far longer.

In the midst of this I saw large branches suddenly thrashing beside the path, as some creature made its way through. I glanced round frantically, calculating where I could run. My first emotion was a reserved relief when it was a man who emerged. His loose trousers and coolie shirt were thoroughly soaked and a brace of dead pigeons was slung over his shoulder. He was as startled to see me as I was to see him. It cannot have been common to come upon a muddy white woman underneath the dripping trees. I backed away, noticing a sheathed knife slung through a scarf of material binding his waist. There was no one around for at least a mile. My breathing became shallow as I contemplated bolting despite the treacherous path ahead.

Then Wang said something in Chinese. I did not understand so he pointed first at me and then down the hill, motioning me to follow. He smiled a brown-toothed grin and did not make for his knife. I weighed it up for a moment and, heart in my hands, I decided to go. Getting down by myself would be too difficult.

Far more slowly than he would have made the journey without me, I am sure, we picked our way through the trees. It was the natural way to descend the slope when it was so wet. Roots bound the earth together and there were branches to hold. But the jungle was very overgrown and if you did not have your bearings it was easy to get lost. Wang led me sure-footedly down. We emerged near the town.

‘Um goi,’ I said. Thank you.

He seemed so competent I doubted he was hungry but he had done me a good turn and I wanted to reward him. I motioned him to come with me this time. Back at the house I could give him a coin or two. Now we were in the city he walked behind, the sodden game still over his shoulder, splashing whenever it hit his body. The pigeons were as effective as sponges.

‘This way,’ I said.

By the time we entered the front door Robert had returned. He strode out of the drawing room in a bad temper.

‘Where in the devil have you been?’ he snapped. ‘Look at you.’

‘This man brought me home through the storm,’ I explained.

Robert fumbled in his pocket, gave Wang a small coin and directed him to the kitchen for some food.

‘I think I shall go up,’ I said.

It was odd Robert had not pushed me for an explanation of where I had been or exacted any kind of punishment—it was not like him when his blood was up. But, as I alighted the first step, I could see the reason. There was a figure in the drawing room. An old man. He inclined his head and came to the door.

‘This the girl?’

Robert nodded.

‘Yes, my sister-in-law, Mary. Rather overtaken by the weather,’ he said.

My stomach turned over so fast my kidneys felt as if they had been hit. Robert was plotting. The old man eyed me avariciously. Even in the heat my fingers drained ice cold.

‘Well, my dear, you have settled upon Hong Kong, then?’ he said. His teeth were yellowing and his thin lips seemed almost blue-grey. He was seventy, this fellow, if he was a day.

‘I must get changed,’ I replied coldly and walked up to my room.

I would rather be a spinster than be sold off, traded in, whatever they might call it. I had lost all my trust after William and the world of love and marriage was no longer somewhere I wished to travel. Marriage carried with it a long list of things I could not, should not do. Some say once you’re married you can do as you please but that isn’t true if you marry someone who wilfully restricts you. You have a great deal less control over a man’s life than he has over yours. I began to look on Robert’s plans for me as if they were some kind of unhealthy obsession on his part. I knew that he had good intentions. He wanted a rich husband to support me. In Hong Kong I must make my living and the pickings for a woman on her own were slim. Robert would leave me with a little money, of course, and I might find a job that would earn a meagre keep, but the drop here if I did not marry was no less than it would have been in London. I tried to ignore this.

Once I had dressed I sneaked down to the kitchen. Wang was still there, eating noodle soup from a bowl. Between ugly, gulped mouthfuls, he asked a question in Cantonese and the maid rebuked him.

‘What did he say?’ I asked.

The girl had good enough English.

‘Stupid man. He ask if you have seen the ship that sails without wind. No such thing.’

‘I have seen it. A steam ship. The Sirius.‘

‘He wants to work on this ship.’

‘Tell him it is in London—a long way from here.’

Wang continued to eat and as my words were relayed he barely stopped long enough to laugh.

‘He come from inland,’ the girl motioned. ‘No good sailor anyway. From Bohea.’

‘Bohea?’ I said gleefully. What a stroke of good luck—this was Robert’s other tea country. The home of black tea.

‘Fetch the master,’ I directed. ‘Bring him now.’

Much to the maid’s displeasure I picked up a spoon and tasted the noodle soup from the pot that still lay hot beside the range. Unlike us, the servants ate exotic fare. There were noodles and dumplings, chickens’ feet and rice. The cook made a plum sauce that was delicious. The plums were delivered fragrant, still ripening on the bough. They smelt enticing. Unlike the mangoes and bamboo shoots, the melons and fresh ginger, they reminded me of home.

‘Fetch him,’ I motioned to her, ignoring her look of disapproval as I took another mouthful.

Robert’s acquaintance had evidently left and Robert had retired to his study. He arrived in the kitchen seconds after the maid had bid him and his eyes lit up when I explained where Wang came from. He was so excited that thankfully he did not mention his friend, rebuke my coldness or tell me, as he had become accustomed to, that I really must play the hostess more. Instead he asked Wang a series of questions that he fired like bullets. Wang answered slowly. He knew how to grow tea and how to dry it. He had made black tea but preferred to drink green. Bohea was hilly and the best way to travel in the province was by sedan chair. By the end of the conversation Robert had engaged Wang for his trip. Like Sing Hoo, despite the obvious dangers, Wang was tempted by the money, and, of course, at first he did not fully understand the import of what Robert was to do. While principally interested in tea, Robert asked general questions about geography and did not concentrate overly on the tea plantations that were his real prize. Neither Wang nor Sing Hoo were to know for some time that Robert had their country’s main export in his sights. Meanwhile the man nodded furiously and beamed whenever Robert spoke, for he had been engaged at a monthly rate two times what he might expect in the normal run of things. His information about Bohea would prove invaluable.

‘Well done, Mary,’ Robert pronounced and disappeared upstairs once more.

Sing Hoo and Wang did not take to each other. From the beginning it was clear they were constitutionally opposed. At first I wondered if the natives of Bohea and Hwuy-chow were generally at odds, like supporters of opposing teams, but this was not the case. The men simply disliked each other on sight. I think their rivalry was not helped by the fact that Robert could not tell them apart. While their facial features and general size was similar, I have to say they were not indistinguishable by any means. Sing Hoo was a good ten years the senior for a start. Robert simply did not appear to see this or any other difference and clearly felt they were unimportant in any case as long as one or the other did his bidding.

The last few days in Hong Kong were punctuated by bickering between the men that degenerated rapidly into sly punches, nips and kicks whenever they could manage.

‘I do not fancy a year’s wanderings with those two,’ I jested to Robert. ‘They will kill each other in a month.’

Robert was unperturbed. ‘Servants,’ he said vaguely, as if the other staff could regularly be seen punching each other and the enmity between the men was perfectly normal.

Supplies for the trip were piled high in the hallway. Robert had procured a gun, a stove, a tent, a trunk of goods for barter as well as Chinese currency. This last was a strange-looking collection of coins that he secreted in the internal pockets of his coat, in the hollow heels of his shoes, in the false bottoms of his travelling trunks, and sewed into the hems of his trousers. The large coins were silver. The smaller, bronze coins were called cash. They had holes through the centre and came strung together.

During his time in Hong Kong Robert had bought goods to be sent home and sold. There were ten inlaid chests, several bales of embroidered fabric, sundry porcelain items and a selection of carved ivory and mother-of-pearl fan sticks. He split this consignment in two and organised transport back to London on separate ships to halve his risk. It would be sold for a profit at auction before he returned and provide Jane with a nest egg.

‘It will be cheaper still in the interior,’ he said gleefully. ‘I shall send more from there. This is only the start.’

I admired Robert’s tenacity and determination in Hong Kong. He had arrived with only an outline plan and had succeeded in filling it in great detail. He organised the trip in the three weeks allotted, set up a line of credit for his export plans and tried his best to see me settled. It was to his mind the honourable thing to do and I was glad that we were settled on friendlier terms than on the Braganza. Sometimes in the evenings we talked nostalgically of England as if we had been away for years rather than months. As if we were friends rather than enemies. I have to admit it was pleasant to have such society once more, albeit with a man I scarcely ever agreed with. We came to an uneasy truce, putting the journey to Hong Kong behind us and, in the face of his departure, I found some real forgiveness within me at last.

Still, it was not all easy. Twice more he brought elderly men to the house to peruse me despite my evident unwillingness to participate in this activity. He mentioned to everyone he met that I required some form of employment. One or two families offered positions teaching English to their young children. Among those brought up by Chinese nursemaids some had started speaking Cantonese more than English. The horrified parents sought to redress the balance. Robert accepted both positions on my behalf. Two visits a week would hardly keep me but it was, he pointed out, ‘necessary to have something, Mary’. The money might, I thought, go at least halfway. The fact I had little interest in other people’s children was neither here nor there. Robert also took lodgings on my behalf and paid six months in advance. The rooms were fine but I could not see how I was going to afford them beyond the allotted time. There was little to employ a lady on the island and if I was going to survive on the longer term I would have to capitulate a very great deal. I wondered how far my credit might extend, given that Robert was set to return and could be relied on to settle my debts. I had no idea how long as a white woman I might last in the shanty, if it came to that, and, if the worst came to the worst, how I was ever to afford my passage back to London if I did not even have enough money to pay rent.

‘Perhaps,’ I said to Robert one evening after dinner, ‘I shall export. I could pick out things myself. I have a good eye. I could charter a ship and send goods to auction in London.’

Robert laughed.

‘But you have done it…’ I started.

Robert held up his hand to prevent any further discussion.

‘You are a woman,’ he said and downed his drink. ‘It is not done.’

He was right. I had a notion that over the several thousand miles I could conceal my identity so the merchant in London would not know. That somehow I would manage it. They would know, of course, in Hong Kong.

‘You may teach,’ said Robert. ‘You may keep books, perhaps. Something will turn up if you are willing.’

‘I could perform,’ I countered.

‘For God’s sake,’ Robert exploded. ‘Will you never stop?’

He had done everything he could. I realised I must have tried him horribly. Robert was fulfilling his lifelong desire to make his fortune. I was far from realising any of my dreams. I told myself that I must keep my eyes open. There had to be something—surely the choice was not between a decrepit husband of advancing years or a bookkeeper’s role.

‘Is this where I am meant to be?’ I thought to myself. A drawing-room lady in a remote colony. A spinster. As good as invisible.

‘What is the point of travelling so far in order to become so small? I am not a teacher, Robert. I am not a convenient wife for some old soul you might meet in planning your excursions. I want to be myself .’

Robert’s face wore an expression as if he had tasted sour milk.

‘Yourself,’ he echoed. ‘There is no place anywhere I know for yourself, Mary. It is pure indulgence.’

‘I like Hong Kong,’ I said.

‘Good, good.’ He was not listening.

‘But I have nothing worthwhile to do here.’

I had written letters to Jane all the way from Cape Town though I had not included the truth about the cabin boy and Barraclough or, for that matter, her husband. Instead they were full of my observations from the deck of the ship, details of exotic and unusual foodstuffs and lively questions about Henry. I had not dispatched one of them. Robert had forwarded a single short missive telling his wife we were well and had arrived thus far. I found myself unable to communicate with my sister, probably for the first time in my life. The truth was that I was afraid, I missed my son and I felt truly lost to the world. I could not tell her any of that.

Robert was, as ever, unperturbed. While brief in his writings to the family, he had regularly furnished a gardening journal with his lengthy observations on the plant life wherever we had docked. These were set to appear monthly in the form of a regular column. It irked him that they would be published out of their proper season but there was nothing he could do. The passage west was as irregular as it had proved eastwards and his words would appear in print whenever they happened to arrive in England. Should my sister wish to see what her husband had been occupied with some five months out of time she need only subscribe to the periodical for his views on exotic blooms, ferns, palms and unusual fruits and vegetables.

It was this that held up Robert’s departure by two days, for he was committed to sending copy and in his rush to prepare for the journey had not done so. Hong Kong had proved a font of horticultural excitement and Robert paced the drawing room as he attempted to edit the weeks’ experiences down to a page or two. Plants were not a subject about which he was naturally abrupt, and he had some difficulty. In the end he settled upon providing material for two columns—one on the subject of Hong Kong’s indigenous flora and fauna and another on the cultivation of imported species. Many of these had been brought recently to the island by our new friends and reared from seed.

I made myself scarce. The prospect of Robert’s departure unsettled me. He would sail to Amoy first, via Namoa. I had traced his route on the map. I knew the flat paper was deceptive. What was a finger or two’s width could take weeks to traverse and once on the mainland the overland route would be arduous. Robert was not set to return to Hong Kong for at least a year and I would be alone. He was the only person in a thousand miles who knew me or had my interests (or so he thought) to heart. I felt hemmed in by my homesickness and fear—the trepidation of not knowing what was to become of me and the sinking feeling that I was between the devil and the deep blue sea. In all likelihood there was no way forward that was in the least appealing. Though Robert and I were settled on friendlier terms, it surprised me now to realise that I was going to miss him. The truth was that I would by far have preferred to stay with my brother-in-law for all his faults than take on any of the ancient worthies he had lined up as my suitors.

I decided to sit in the garden. A long pagoda had been erected on the lawn and it afforded a good deal of shade. I set aside my worries and instead decided to try once more to write to Jane. It was difficult to know what to say but before Robert left I was determined to send her something. There was no option but to square with her what had happened but whenever I sought to write it down I knew my sister’s reaction would be so horror-stricken that I was inhibited. After an hour I had merely three lines.

Dearest Jane

I have arrived in Hong Kong. Here Robert can keep a close eye on me. I have taken a teaching position. The island is lovely although malaria is rife. I am trying hard. My dear, I am so sorry, to have let you down once more. Please forgive me.

I laid down my pen. On the Regatta I had written pages posted home from each port en route. Missives arrived from exotic locations at least twice after my family thought I was drowned. I had committed every thought to paper. Now I felt I had nothing to say. At least, nothing pleasing. I was being abandoned on this rock, left to fare for myself. There were no doubt far fewer single men here than in Calcutta and little employment to speak of. In two days Robert would be gone. I was acutely aware that there was no middle way that was acceptable both to my family and to me. Something would have to give.

That evening we ate at the Governor’s mansion. The hallway was splendid with candles. I wore my shoulder-less evening gown and the sheen of the material came to life in the glow.

‘My dear,’ a lady resplendent in a carved jade necklace that matched her intricate bodice said to me, ‘your brother is leaving. You must be very proud. But will you manage alone?’

I smiled. ‘We each have our adventure,’ I said. ‘He has taken rooms for me but I must find something to do.’

It was not the answer she had expected and I think she did not know what to make of me. I had been supposed to simply say I would miss him but that I would be fine. I had never had an appetite for glossing over such things and I was unsure how to develop one.

We had ten courses for dinner, and afterwards withdrew to hear Miss Pottinger, the Governor’s niece, play the piano. It was a lovely night. The mansion had been ransacked some months before but the insurgence was quelled and every piece of looted finery replaced. Our people in the colonies lived daily with such things. No one seemed to find it alarming.

As his niece stepped down from the piano, Sir Henry rose. ‘Who shall be next?’ he asked. ‘Miss Penney?’

He said this teasingly, no doubt expecting me to blush and giggle—Fortune’s quiet sister-in-law, all set to disappear. However, I rose to his challenge. I was in the humour for it.

‘I cannot play the piano, sir. Certainly not. But I can