Flashman Papers 3-Book Collection 4: Flashman and the Dragon, Flashman on the March, Flashman and the Tiger. George Fraser MacDonald
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for without English how can he hope to reap the benefit of Western education, which is the best in the world? Every child in China must learn English,” he added gravely, “if only so that they may understand the jokes in Punch.” And he roared with laughter, shaking in his chair.
It was extraordinary, from a Chinese – but as I soon learned, Jen-kan was an extraordinary man. He knew the world, and had his feet on the ground; the bright brown eyes, which vanished in the fat, good-natured face when he laughed, were deep and shrewd, and he thought more like a Westerner than any Oriental I ever knew. Here’s one that matters, I thought, listening as he gassed non-stop, mostly in Chinese for Lee’s benefit, but now and then forgetting himself into English, with splutters of mirth. Lee sat impassive, being the perfect host, inviting me to dishes, deprecating the food – which was superb, I may say. It came in nine little petal-shaped dishes to each table, the petals fitting together to form a perfect rose as the meal progressed. No chopsticks, either, but Sheffield knives and silver forks and spoons; several of the dishes were Western, in politeness to me, I fancy. There was wine in gold cups held in enamelled silver cases – sherry, if you please, from bottles with wrapped paper plugs instead of corks. I had thought liquor was forbidden in the Taiping; Jen-kan pealed with mirth.
“So it is! But I told the Tien Wang, if I cannot drink, I cannot eat. So he gave me a special dispensation. Unlike this law-breaker.” And he nodded at Lee, who surveyed him in silence and poured more sherry.
When the meal was done, and the servants had brought hot Chinese wine and cheroots, Jen-kan nodded to his son, who rose, bowed to me, and piped: “Sir, I take my leave, charmed by your conversation and by the courtesy with which you have tolerated my clumsy attempts at your glorious language.”
“My son,” says I, “you speak it a dam – a great deal better than most English boys twice your age.” At which he shot his father a delighted glance before composing himself and marching out. Jen-kan proudly watched him go, sighed contentedly, bit a cheroot, glanced at Lee, and then at me. Business, thinks I, and braced myself. Sure enough, Lee asked if I had given thought to what he’d said at our first meeting: what was the likely British reaction to a Taiping march on Shanghai?
I was starting to say that as a humble traveller from the London Missionary Society I could only speculate, when Jen-kan broke in.
“We can dispense with that … Sir Harry.” He chuckled at my expression of dismay. “If Mr Bruce wishes his intelligence chief to pass incognito, he should choose one whose likeness has not appeared so frequently in the picture papers. I acquit him of trying to impose on us, but he should remember that the Illustrated London News may not be unknown in Pekin. Now, may I say how delighted I am to make your acquaintance? I have been an admirer for years – ever since you dismissed Felix, Pilch and Mynn … in ’42, was it not?” He beamed jovially on this reminder of how Englified he was, and since there was no use beating about, I shrugged modestly, and he put his elbows on the table, Western fashion.
“Good. Now we can talk plainly. The Loyal Prince has already given you reasons why you should welcome us at Shanghai. This may have led you to suppose that our arrival depends on Britain’s attitude. It does not. We shall come when we are ready, in August, with or without British approval.” He drew on his cheroot, regarding me benevolently. “Obviously we hope for it, and I am confident that when Mr Bruce realises that our occupation is inevitable, he will decide to welcome it. He will be in no doubt of our invincibility once you have reported to him; you have seen our army, and you will observe it in action when the Loyal Prince goes presently to expel the Imps from Soochow.”
That was uncomfortable news, but I didn’t let on.
“Mr Bruce will see that our final victory over the Manchoos is only a matter of time, and that opposition from Britain at Shanghai would be not only futile but impolitic. You will also inform him that, as an earnest of good will to Her Majesty’s Government, our first act in Shanghai will be to place an order worth one million dollars for twenty armed steamships, which will greatly hasten the destruction of the Imperial forces.”
He studied a moment, like a man who wonders if he’s left out anything, and gave me his fattest smile. “Well, Sir Harry?”
So there it was, the big stick and a carrot, and my mission dead and buried. For plainly no persuasion of mine was going to keep the Taipings away from Shanghai; all Bruce’s diplomatic step-dancing would be wasted on these fellows; they said, and they would do. Unless it was bluff, in which case counter-bluff might be in order … I ran cold sweat at the thought, knowing that what I said next might alter the history of China – God, what Napoleon would have given to be in my shoes, and how I wished he was.
“I’m obliged to your excellency,” says I. “But do you think it wise to take Britain’s reaction for granted?”
“I don’t!” cries he cheerfully. “Whether you welcome or oppose us, we shall have Shanghai.” Mildly he added: “The Loyal Prince’s army will number not fewer than fifty thousand men.”
“Fifty thousand men who’ve never met British or French regulars,” says I, equally mildly. Not diplomatic, I agree, but I ain’t partial to having the law laid down to me by fat chaps with yellow faces. This one just smiled and shook his head.
“Come, Sir Harry. A mere token garrison. Mr Bruce could not resist us even if he wished – which I am persuaded he does not.”
Well, that was God’s truth, but I had to play it out for what it was worth. I gave him my true-blue stare. “Possibly, sir. But if you’re wrong, there exists a possibility that you’ll find yourselves at war with Great Britain.” Bruce would have swooned to hear me.
“Why?” This was Lee, sharp and intense, his lean face strained. “Why? What can it profit England to fight against fellow Christians? How can – ?”
“Loyal Prince.” Jen-kan raised a plump finger. “Our guest knows his people better than you do. So, with respect, do I. And they are the last I should try to … persuade, in normal circumstances. But the circumstances are not normal, Sir Harry,” he came back to me. “Shanghai is not a British city; it is the Emperor’s, and you are,” he smiled apologetically, “only his tenants, in an upstairs room. Your lives and property will be safe from us – indeed, your traders will enjoy a freedom unknown under the Manchoos.” He grinned a fat man’s satisfied grin. “You will welcome us. Britain does not want another war in China – certainly not with a regime that offers million-dollar contracts. When did the Manchoos promise as much? They don’t even like your opium!”
I waited until his laughter had subsided. “Well, sir, if that’s the message I’m to take to Mr Bruce –”
“Yes, but not yet.” He wagged a finger. “In August. In view of what you have said, it may be better if Mr Bruce has short notice of our intention. We don’t wish him to have too much time to think, and possibly commit some indiscretion.” He beamed shamelessly. “I am quite frank, you see. No, in August you will go back to Shanghai – with a Taiping army two days behind you. That will surely inspire Mr Bruce to a wise decision. And we shall be in good time before Lord Elgin reaches Pekin to conclude a treaty committing him to the losing side. All things considered, he may well decide not to go to Pekin at all.”
He sat there, a Chinese Pickwick, smacking his lips over his hot wine, while I weighed the essential point.
“You mean I’m a prisoner here?”
“A guest – until August. Two months, perhaps? It will be a most pleasant holiday; I am selfish enough to look forward to it. Mr Bruce may wonder what has become of you, but he will hardly inquire after a mere traveller from the London Missionary Society.” Oh, he was a right twinkling bastard, this one. “And you may take satisfaction that you are performing the duty he laid on you – of keeping the Taipings away from Shanghai for the present.” That gave me a horrid start, but he went on amiably. “He will be able to pursue his policy of strict neutrality – until August. Until then, we shall be doing what he wants; he will be doing what we want. It is very satisfactory.”
He was right,