Flowers in the Blood (74 page)

My father had tried to educate me in the confused state of opium trade in China: “Every time we work out an arrangement with our merchants, the governments of India, Hong Kong, and China vacillate on their positions and everything must be recalculated. I have nightmares whenever the crown sends a new governor out to Hong Kong or his celestial majesty appoints a new commissioner in Canton.”

Here was a place to begin. “Tell me, compradore, have you recent estimates on how much opium the merchants of Hong Kong require this season?”

“We keep those at the office, madam. Were you planning to come to the Prince's Buildings this week?”

I shot a glance at Jonah. Reminding me of our decision to keep me behind the scenes, he shook his head slightly. “No, most of the time I will remain here and let you gentlemen act for me.” In the compradore's eyes I thought I saw respect dimming, so I added, “That is what my father wished.”

This was true. On his deathbed my father had said repeatedly that if I were going to go to Hong Kong with Jonah and Edwin, I should leave the talking to the men. “Stay in the background, even remain in your lodgings, and have the men report back to you.” When he saw the distress his advice had given, my father had calmed me by saying how much faith he had in my ability “to put intellectual fires to work to solve a problem. It is always wisest to have someone thinking matters through while someone else acts as the mouthpiece.” Then he added, “Never try to think and speak simultaneously, or you will inevitably make mistakes. Anyway, the Chinese have enough trouble putting trust in any 'foreign devil,' and it is unwise to stretch their fragile faith to extend to negotiating with a female.”

After only a half-hour with Mr. Ming, I saw my first hurdle would be convincing our own man to follow my directives. Evasiveness had been his calling card. How could I assure him that I was really in charge? Best to press on and learn from my blunders, I decided.

I asked the question a different way. “Don't you recall any figures from the Royal Commission on opium? I understand they do a yearly report.”

There was a slight motion in the compradore's chin that might have counted as a quiver. Then he spoke. “One recent paper compiled by Governor Robinson himself estimates the consumption in Hong Kong at three chests per day.”

“That is over a thousand a year in the colony alone. Do you think that is a fair estimate?”

My question took the compradore aback. “No, I do not, taipan.”

I waited for a further explanation, but none was forthcoming. This is like pulling teeth, I seethed silently, yet I replied firmly. “Do you think the colony requires more or less?”

“More.”

“How much more?”

“Another private report circulated among the merchants showed 67,429 chests paid import excises, while 61,808 paid export taxes in 1896.”

A man clever enough to remember those figures was surely a font of essential information. If only I knew how to extract it! “That means 5,621 chests remained on the island.”

Mr. Ming Hien Chang's eyes gleamed with respect for the first time. To think simple arithmetic was all it took. “Yes, that indicates that more than five times the official amount is required. However, there is a small opium-growing industry on the island that cuts into that figure significantly.”

“How far?”

No response.

“By half?”

“No, possibly by a third.”

“Even so, most of the chests merely pass through Hong Kong on their way to the mainland. Is that correct?”

“Yes, taipan.”

Good, I thought silently. As we had hoped, everything pointed to an exceedingly healthy marketplace. If we remained firm with our Chinese merchants, we could drive the prices to the levels we desired. Matters had gone so well that I almost broached the matter with the compradore then and there. Some streak of caution, however, warned me not to rush. I turned the topic to the inclement weather for the duration of the tea.

 

The next morning an invitation to the governor's dinner party was delivered with the breakfast tray. Along with the handwritten card came a letter from the governor's secretary apologizing for the last-minute nature of the invitation, which had been necessary since we had arrived just the day before. “We will understand if you are too exhausted from your journey to visit tonight. Unfortunately, the weekend is complicated by the festivities that accompany the Chinese New Year.” He went on to explain that we were also welcome the week after that, either for the first time or as a second visit.

“How did they know we were in Hong Kong, and how did you know we would be invited?” I asked my brother in amazement.

“There are few secrets on a small island.” He winked, then explained, “When we wired ahead to the office, they took care of everything, from opening the house to planning our social calendar. Anyway, do you want to go?”

“Certainly. I do hope the British will be more forthcoming than the compradore.”

“Now, sister, I hope you won't interrogate the governor.”

“Why ever not?” I teased, and went off to enlist Su Sum's help with my clothes.

I decided on the plum gown, sans ostrich plumes, that I had worn to the auction. It had brought luck, and besides, it was the most astonishing item in my wardrobe. Though Jonah looked handsome in his evening clothes, he was no match for Gulliver, resplendent in his white uniform.

“Where will Gulliver remain while we are in the dining room?” Jonah asked.

“At my side, as always.”

“He can't stay with you during dinner.”

“I will ask him to wait outside.”

“He doesn't always do as you say.”

“He will if I promise to leave the room through the doorway he is guarding.”

“Dinah, he isn't your jailer. He's your servant.”

“I feel safer when he is around.”

“What do you have to worry about?”

Jonah would never know how much Gulliver's presence allayed the myriad fears that floated in my mind. Memories from my mother's murder, to my experience with the thugs in Patna, to running from Amar mingled with being a woman, a rich woman, in a foreign land. Gulliver's devotion might have been excessive to some, but to me it was most welcome.

Shrugging, Jonah led me to the waiting sedan chair.

When we arrived at Government House, we had to wait our turn to be announced. Outside the entryway I looked back toward the Peak, the highest point of the mountain range that formed the backbone of the island, wondering if I could pick out our cottage, but it was lost in a veil of bluish mist. At last they called our names. Light and warmth replaced the bone-chilling gloom of the night air. Fires blazed in every room.

I was introduced to a selection of public servants, British subjects, and distinguished visitors, as Dinah Salem, the daughter of Benjamin Sassoon. Many present had known my father. A few of the older gentlemen recalled my Uncle Reuben, and some knew Sassoon relations who had settled in Shanghai and even England. Accustomed as I was to having the family name open doors, I had never before witnessed the magic among strangers in another country. Even though everyone was too polite to mention it directly, I could tell there was curiosity about why I was escorted by my brother instead of my husband.

After seeing that all his guests had arrived, the governor himself became attentive to me. The last time I had talked privately with a governor had been in Darjeeling shortly after my marriage to Silas, I thought with a pang at his memory. Steering me to the front gallery, which offered a splendid view of the town and harbor, Governor Robinson spoke in an accent that was a wistful reminder of Dennis Clifford. “I
like it best before the moon has risen. In this haze the small-magnitude stars are not visible, yet you can see some of the larger ones plainly. Below, the air is usually clear, and though the vessels are invisible, their lights remind me of another hemisphere of stars even more numerous than the others. I have no control over the comings and goings of celestial bodies: nevertheless those in that lower firmament are mine to keep in order.”

I looked at the man to see if he was serious. His rigid demeanor gave no hint of a joke. I managed to hide my disbelief at his pomposity behind a smile he could have taken for feminine deference.

During dinner, I took my seat between a Lord Hargreaves, who was traveling around the world with his wife, and a Commodore Treadwell. Jonah was seated next to Lady Hargreaves and the wife of the surveyor-general. Gulliver took his station outside with the Chinese servants, who wore long blue gowns, white gaiters, thick shoes with white soles, and had pigtails hanging past their waists.

“Have you had an opportunity to taste much of the Chinese cuisine?” Lord Hargreaves asked as the lightly seasoned consommé was served.

“No, only a few tidbits prepared by our houseboy at the Peak.”

“I must warn you that while some is delicious, there are many items you might find disagreeable. For instance, their delicacies include bird's-nest soup, sharks' fins, and eggs said to be fifty years old.”

I grimaced. “How do they taste?”

“The soup is not bad, rather bland actually, and although I cannot say that anything else is nasty, the brown sauces that cover the mysterious ingredients worry me. At least I like rice.”

“I do too.”

“Then you shall get on just fine. A lady can be more particular than a man without offending the host, so you mustn't feel compelled to try anything you find repulsive.”

I went back to my soup and decided nothing could be blander. Because I liked every sort of Indian dish, even the spicy platters served in Travancore, I wouldn't turn against Chinese food on one man's critique.

When the buttered fish fillets were set before us, Commodore Treadwell, a man with a mustache that looked more like a bristle brush, focused on me with typical questions about our crossing and how I was finding Hong Kong.

“I have barely had time to unpack. If the rain stops tomorrow, I hope to take a proper look around.”

“May I suggest you first visit the Victoria Peak via the Upper Level Tramway. From there you will gain perspective on the whole island.”

“That sounds perfect, since I know nothing of the area.”

“I
would be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

I was about to give an expected response when something perverse in my nature—or merely the desire to get on with what I had come for—caused me to startle the gentleman. “Frankly, Commodore, I had not considered the effects devaluation of the Spanish dollar would have. Presently it is at a five-year low. Don't you find that disturbing?”

“What I find disturbing is that a woman as lovely as you has any concern about such matters,” he said without condescension in his tone.

“I have come to Hong Kong as a woman of commerce, not as a lady of leisure. Some other time I hope to bring my husband and have a purely social visit. This trip, I represent the Sassoon interests.”

“As I said, Mrs. Sassoon—I mean, Mrs. Salem—I would be honored to answer any questions you might have.”

I waited while a lemon ice decorated with a sliver of peel carved like a leaping fish was placed in front of me. When the governor's wife lifted her spoon, I tasted mine and said, “How delicious!” After the next bite I continued, “I wonder if you could tell me anything about the Chinese opium merchants.”

“I am a naval man, inexperienced in commercial matters. The person you should speak with is Godfrey Troyte, who likes to say he's been here longer than anyone else. I suppose he's right. His father captained one of the original opium clippers and settled here after an accident at sea crippled him.”

“He sounds most interesting. How could I meet him?”

“He's at the far end of the table, next to the lady in the royal-blue dress.”

I caught a glimpse of a man with snowy white hair floating about his youthful, clean-shaven face. Just then he looked in our direction. The commodore caught his eye, which twinkled back in acknowledgment.

“If you like, I'll introduce you after dinner.”

“Thank you, I would like that,” I said.

There was a whoosh of satin as the ladies, following a signal from the governor's wife, stood. The men leapt up, pulled out chairs, and made gracious bows. Across the way my brother gave a broad smile that I understood to mean: Sorry the taipan must take tea with the ladies instead of port with the men.

What would he think if he knew how much more comfortable I felt in the drawing room than among the booming camaraderie and the cigar smoke? The governor's wife was easy to talk to, and we had a cordial chat about one of her favorite places, Darjeeling.

Deciding I had little time to waste before the men joined us, I ventured, “What can you tell me about Mr. Troyte?”

“Now, what would you want with him?” Lady Robinson asked archly.

“The commodore thought he might answer some of my questions about Hong Kong.”

“Well, if it is historical information you are requiring, you could not do better. Actually, if you want present-day gossip, you need look no farther either.” She placed her curly head next to mine and whispered, “Just watch out, he's a bit of a scoundrel.”