receive a British ambassador.'
'Well damn it, I have not come all this way against my own inclinations, spending months at sea, just to wait here indefinitely. We will have to sail to Canton without this pass. There must be someone in authority there who will appreciate the situation. The Chinese Viceroy or Governor, for example. He must have some authority, surely?'
‘Not to allow you to land, your lordship.'
'Well, maybe I do not need permission as I am a diplomat, and not a trader. Pray be so good as to inform Dr Jardine of my intentions.'
The manager bowed. Things were going to be difficult; he could see that. First, Lord Napier with his raw red skin and sandy hair was the epitome of everything the Chinese, with their sallow complexions and black oily hair, hated and despised. He might have been a living caricature of a Red-Bristled Barbarian.
If he foolishly persisted in going to Canton without a proper pass, the manager could also foresee certain inevitable consequences. First, the Viceroy would have to report his uninvited arrival to the Emperor. Then knowing he would incur His Majesty's severe displeasure for allowing the Barbarian to land, yet being unable to prevent him physically because of the Barbarian's gunboat, the Viceroy would demand an immediate levy from the Hong merchants against any financial demands from Peking.
The merchants, in turn, would show their disapproval of the situation by withdrawing all local labour from the quay, and possibly even impounding cargoes and ships. The British merchants would have to pay them further enormous bribes, with tens of thousands of pounds of profit lost — and all because the Government in London had sent out this emissary who seemed intent on going the wrong way about things.
Well, he was only the local manager; he owned no shares in the company. But now he pitied those who did.
Lord Napier's arrival in a British man-of-war had, of course, been signalled from fort to fort along the banks of the Pearl River, and even as Napier was declaring what he would do, the Chinese Viceroy of Canton was examining these reports.
Viceroy Lu Ku'un was a plump man in middle life, who had only recently succeeded the unfortunate official who had failed to subdue the revolt of the self-styled Golden Dragon King. Lu had no intention of also making the journey back to Peking in chains, but unless he handled this new Barbarian carefully, that could conceivably happen, The Emperor never deigned to travel to Canton; he therefore had no idea of local conditions, and relied for information on all kinds of correspondents, who coloured their reports according to their own relations with the Viceroy.
Lu's spies in Macao sped to Canton in swift boats, called centipedes because of the number of their oars, with the grievous news that Lord Napier intended to land in Canton without official permission.
Lu had taken years to climb up the ladder of preferment. A word of fulsome praise for a superior here; a judicious bribe there; a calculated betrayal elsewhere had all contributed to his promotion. If he maintained the Emperor's confidence and survived as Viceroy, he would soon be very rich. For this wealth, of course, Lu would have to rely on the Coast Trade, because he was in supreme charge of the area; and as such he received the largest share of the bribes that the Barbarians paid.
He must therefore deal swiftly with the matter, but delicately, for he did not wish a direct confrontation with the British frigate. The ancient defensive forts along the river possessed crumbling guns that could neither be traversed nor raised nor lowered, but could only hurl their iron balls at set points in the river. They were thus useless against any enemy who could manoeuvre.
Under the command of a Chinese admiral who preferred to stay in port painting delicate faces on fans, Lu could call on a fleet of sampans and war junks. But if he antagonized Napier, then the Andromache might rampage up and down
'Well damn it, I have not come all this way against my own inclinations, spending months at sea, just to wait here indefinitely. We will have to sail to Canton without this pass. There must be someone in authority there who will appreciate the situation. The Chinese Viceroy or Governor, for example. He must have some authority, surely?'
‘Not to allow you to land, your lordship.'
'Well, maybe I do not need permission as I am a diplomat, and not a trader. Pray be so good as to inform Dr Jardine of my intentions.'
The manager bowed. Things were going to be difficult; he could see that. First, Lord Napier with his raw red skin and sandy hair was the epitome of everything the Chinese, with their sallow complexions and black oily hair, hated and despised. He might have been a living caricature of a Red-Bristled Barbarian.
If he foolishly persisted in going to Canton without a proper pass, the manager could also foresee certain inevitable consequences. First, the Viceroy would have to report his uninvited arrival to the Emperor. Then knowing he would incur His Majesty's severe displeasure for allowing the Barbarian to land, yet being unable to prevent him physically because of the Barbarian's gunboat, the Viceroy would demand an immediate levy from the Hong merchants against any financial demands from Peking.
The merchants, in turn, would show their disapproval of the situation by withdrawing all local labour from the quay, and possibly even impounding cargoes and ships. The British merchants would have to pay them further enormous bribes, with tens of thousands of pounds of profit lost — and all because the Government in London had sent out this emissary who seemed intent on going the wrong way about things.
Well, he was only the local manager; he owned no shares in the company. But now he pitied those who did.
Lord Napier's arrival in a British man-of-war had, of course, been signalled from fort to fort along the banks of the Pearl River, and even as Napier was declaring what he would do, the Chinese Viceroy of Canton was examining these reports.
Viceroy Lu Ku'un was a plump man in middle life, who had only recently succeeded the unfortunate official who had failed to subdue the revolt of the self-styled Golden Dragon King. Lu had no intention of also making the journey back to Peking in chains, but unless he handled this new Barbarian carefully, that could conceivably happen, The Emperor never deigned to travel to Canton; he therefore had no idea of local conditions, and relied for information on all kinds of correspondents, who coloured their reports according to their own relations with the Viceroy.
Lu's spies in Macao sped to Canton in swift boats, called centipedes because of the number of their oars, with the grievous news that Lord Napier intended to land in Canton without official permission.
Lu had taken years to climb up the ladder of preferment. A word of fulsome praise for a superior here; a judicious bribe there; a calculated betrayal elsewhere had all contributed to his promotion. If he maintained the Emperor's confidence and survived as Viceroy, he would soon be very rich. For this wealth, of course, Lu would have to rely on the Coast Trade, because he was in supreme charge of the area; and as such he received the largest share of the bribes that the Barbarians paid.
He must therefore deal swiftly with the matter, but delicately, for he did not wish a direct confrontation with the British frigate. The ancient defensive forts along the river possessed crumbling guns that could neither be traversed nor raised nor lowered, but could only hurl their iron balls at set points in the river. They were thus useless against any enemy who could manoeuvre.
Under the command of a Chinese admiral who preferred to stay in port painting delicate faces on fans, Lu could call on a fleet of sampans and war junks. But if he antagonized Napier, then the Andromache might rampage up and down
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