Tai-Pan

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Longstaff had his back to the door and was staring out the main cabin windows at the mail packet. Struan noticed that the dining table was set for four. On the desk were many official dispatches. “Morning, Will.”

“Hello, Dirk.” Longstaff turned and stuck out his hand, and Struan saw that he looked younger than he had for months. “Well, this is curious, isn’t it?”

“What?” Struan asked, knowing that it must be the Russian. But he let Longstaff have the pleasure of telling him. Too, he wanted to hear Longstaff’s evaluation, for though Longstaff was out of his depth in Asia and useless as Captain Superintendent of Trade, Struan knew Longstaff’s views on European diplomatic affairs to be incisive and extremely knowledgeable.

Ever since Struan had settled the immediate problem of Aristotle and had seen Robb take him aboard safely, he had puzzled over the reason for the Russian’s arrival. He found it strangely unsettling but did not know why.

“You won’t have heard yet, but we’ve an uninvited guest.”

“Oh, who?”

“An archduke, no less. A Russian archduke, Alexi Zergeyev. He came on the mail packet.”

Struan was suitably impressed. “Why should we be ‘honored’ here in Asia?”

“Why, indeed?” Longstaff rubbed his hands together happily. “He’s joining us for lunch. Clive’s escorting him.”

Clive Monsey was Longstaff’s deputy captain superintendent of trade, a civil servant by profession and, like Longstaff, a Foreign Office appointee. Normally Monsey’s duties kept him at Macao, where Longstaff maintained his permanent headquarters.

“There are some interesting dispatches too,” Longstaff was saying, and Struan’s interest heightened. He knew that none would contain the formal approval of the Treaty of Chuenpi and the appointment of Longstaff as the first governor of the Colony of Hong Kong, because the news of the successful conclusion of the war would just be reaching England.

Struan accepted the sherry. “The Middle East?” he asked and held his breath.

“Yes. The crisis is over, thank God! France accepted the Foreign Secretary’s settlement, and there’s no longer any fear of general war. The Turkish sultan’s so grateful for our support that he’s signed a commercial treaty with us canceling all Turkish trade monopolies, throwing open the whole Ottoman Empire to British trade.”

Struan let out a yell. “By all that’s holy! That’s the best news we’ve had in many a long day!”

“I thought you’d be pleased,” Longstaff said.

The longstanding crisis had to do with the Dardanelles, the strait that was controlled by the Turkish Ottoman Empire. It was the key to Mediterranean Europe and a perpetual

casus belli among the Great Powers—Britain, France, Russia, Austro-Hungary, and Prussia—because the Dardanelles was a shortcut for Russian warships to enter the vital Mediterranean, and also for warships of other nations to enter the Black Sea and threaten the weak underbelly of Russia. Eight years ago Russia had compelled Turkey to sign a treaty which gave Russia joint suzerainty over the Dardanelles, and international tension had been acute ever since. Then, three years ago, Mehemet Ali, the French-supported upstart soldier-pasha of Egypt, had launched an attack on Constantinople, proclaiming himself Caliph of the Ottoman Empire. France openly and delightedly had supported him against the sultan. But a French ally athwart the Dardanelles would imperil the interests of the remaining Great Powers, and the whole of Europe promised to be immediately involved in open conflict again.

The British Foreign Secretary, Lord Cunnington, had persuaded the Great Powers—other than France, and without consulting her—to use their influence on the side of the sultan against. Mehemet Ali. France was furious and had threatened war. The settlement proposed was that Mehemet Ali was to withdraw to Egypt; that he would be given suzerainty over Syria for his lifetime; that he was confirmed as the independent ruler of Egypt; that he should pay only a nominal annual tribute to the Turkish sultan; and that, most important, the ancient rule of the Dardanelles strait was to be guaranteed by all the Powers once and for all: that while Turkey was at peace the strait was forbidden to

all warships of

all nations.

That France had accepted the proposed settlement and the withdrawal of her Egyptian ally meant riches to The Noble House. Now the complex financial arrangements on which Robb and Struan had gambled so heavily for two years would be cemented. Their commercial power would extend through financial tentacles into the hearts of all the Great Powers, thus giving them the safety to weather continuous international crisis and to open huge new tea and silk markets. Furthermore, if British interest now dominated the Ottoman Empire, perhaps its opium production would be stopped. Without Turkish opium to balance their outpouring of bullion, the American companies would have to increase trade with Britain, and the closer ties that Struan wanted with America would come to pass. Aye, Struan told himself happily, this is a very good day. He was mystified that Longstaff had received the official news before he had; Struan’s informants in Parliament usually advised him of important disclosures like this well in advance. “That’s excellent,” he said.

“There’ll be peace for a long time now. So long as France doesn’t try any more tricks.”

“Or Austria-Hungary. Or Prussia. Or Russia.”

“Yes. Which brings us to Zergeyev. Why should a very important Russian come to Asia at this time? And how is it we had no official or unofficial warning, eh? When we control all sea-lanes east of Africa?”

“Perhaps he’s just making a state visit to Russian Alaska, and came out via the Cape of Good Hope.”

“I’ll wager a hundred guineas that’s what he says,” Longstaff said. He settled himself comfortably in a chair and put his feet on the table. “Zergeyev is an important name in St. Petersburg. I lived there for five years when I was a boy—my father was a diplomat to the court of the tsars. Tyrants, all of them. The present one, Nicholas I, is typical.”

“Zergeyev is important in what way?” Struan asked, surprised that Longstaff had never mentioned St. Petersburg in all the years he had known him.

“Huge landowners. Related to the tsar. They ‘own’ tens of thousands of serfs and hundreds of villages, so I seem to remember. I recall my father saying that Prince Zergeyev—it must be the same family—was privy to the inner court of the tsar and one of the most powerful men in the Russias. Curious to find one here of all places, what?”

“You think Russia’s going to try to interfere in Asia?”

“I’d say this man’s too convenient to be a coincidence. Now that the status quo is restored in the Middle East, and the Dardanelles settled, up pops an archduke!”

“You think there’s a connection?”

Longstaff laughed gently. “Well, the Middle East settlement neatly stops Russian advances westward, but she can afford to sit back and wait. France is spoiling for a fight and so is Prussia. That Austro-Hungarian devil Metternich is in trouble dominating their Italian possessions, and furious with France and Britain for assisting the Belgians to form their own nation at the expense of the Dutch. There’s going to be big trouble between Britain and France over the Spanish succession—the Spanish queen’s twelve, and soon she’ll be given in marriage. Louis Philippe wants his appointee as her husband, but we can’t afford a joining of the thrones of France and Spain. Prussia wants to extend its domination of Europe, which historically France has always considered her exclusive and divine right. Oh yes,” he added with a smile, “Russia can afford to wait. When the Ottoman Empire breaks up, she’ll calmly take all the Balkans—Romania, Bulgaria, Bessarabia, Serbia— and as much of the Austro-Hungarian Empire as she can gobble up as well. Of course we can’t let her, so there’ll be a general war, unless she accepts a reasonable settlement. So, from Russia’s point of view, Europe is no danger at present. Russia’s been blocked effectively, but that doesn’t matter. Her historical policy has always been to conquer by guile—to bribe the leaders of a country, and the leaders of the opposition, if any. To extend by ‘sphere of influence’ and not by war, then to obliterate the leaders and digest the people. When there’s no threat from the west, I’d think her eyes would turn eastward. For she too believes she has a divine position on earth, that she too—like France and Prussia—has a God-given mission to rule the world. Eastward no Great Power stands between her and the Pacific.”

“Except China.”

“And we know, you and I, that China is weak and helpless. That’s not to our advantage, is it? To have China weak and Russia very strong, perhaps controlling China?”

“No,” Struan said. “Then she could strangle us at will. And India.”

The two men fell silent, each lost in his own thoughts.

“But why send an important man here?” Struan asked.

“To test us. The answer’s clear historically. Russia’s a sower of seeds of discontent, and she always will be until she finds what, in her opinion, are her natural borders. She borders Turkey—there’s trouble in Turkey. She borders India—there’s trouble there. She borders China— at least, so far as we know—so there has to be trouble there. Zergeyev’s here to probe our success. The weaker he thinks China is, the more reason for them to hurry their expansion eastward. So we have to try to neutralize him, throw him off the scent, make him think that China is very strong. I’ll need all the help you can give me. Could we invite him to the ball this evening?”

“Of course.”

“We’ve got to indicate, in any event, that China is Her Majesty’s private sphere of influence—that Her Majesty’s Government will brook no interference here.”

Struan’s mind jumped ahead rapidly. The more the Crown was involved in Asia, the more it helped the basic plan—to bring China into the family of nations as a Great Power. The stronger China was, English-trained and assisted, the better for the world in general. Aye. And we canna afford despotic Russian interference when we’re on the threshold of success.

There was a knock on the door, and Clive Monsey appeared in the doorway. He was a thin man in his middle forties, quiet, unassuming, with scant hair and a huge bulbous nose.

“Your Excellency,” he said, “may I present His Highness Archduke Alexi Zergeyev?”

Longstaff and Struan rose. Longstaff went toward the archduke and said, in perfect Russian, “I’m delighted to meet you, Your Highness. Please come in and sit down. Did you have a pleasant voyage?”

“Perfect, Your Excellency,” Zergeyev replied, unsurprised, and he shook the extended hand, bowing slightly with perfect grace. “It’s too kind of you to invite me to lunch when I’ve not had the good manners to acquaint you of my arrival. And particularly as my visit is unofficial and unplanned.”

“It’s our good fortune, Your Highness.”

“I was hoping that you would be the son of the esteemed friend of Russia, Sir Robert. This is a most fortunate coincidence.”

“Yes, indeed,” Longstaff said dryly. “And how is your father the prince?” he asked, gambling on a hunch.

“In good health, I’m pleased to say. And yours?”

“He died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. But your mother, the Lady Longstaff?”

“In perfect health, I’m happy to say.”

Struan was inspecting the Russian. Zergeyev was a fine, tall man impeccably and richly dressed. He was broad-shouldered and narrow hipped. High cheekbones and curious, slightly slanting blue eyes gave his face an exotic cast. The dress sword at his belt under his opened frock coat seemed to belong there. Around his neck, below his pure white cravat, was a discreet decoration of some order on a thin scarlet ribbon. No man to pick a quarrel with, Struan thought. I’d wager he’s a devil with a sword and a demon if his ‘honor’ is touched.

“May I present Mr. Dirk Struan?” Longstaff said in English.

The archduke put out his hand, smiled and added in English with only the trace of an accent, “Ah, Mr. Struan, it is my pleasure.”

Struan shook hands and found Zergeyev’s grip like steel. “You have me at a disadvantage, Your Highness,” he said, deliberately being blunt and undiplomatic. “I get the distinct impression that you know a lot about me, but I know nothing about you.”

Zergeyev laughed. “The Tai-Pan of The Noble House has a reputation that reaches out even to St. Petersburg. I had hoped I would have the privilege of meeting you. And I look forward to chatting and telling you about myself, if it interests you.” He smiled at Longstaff. “You’re too kind to me, Your Excellency. I assure you that I will inform His Highness the Tsar that Her Britannic Majesty’s plenipotentiary is more than a little hospitable. Now that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, I will withdraw and let you get on with affairs of state.”

“Oh no, Your Highness, please, we expect you for lunch.” Longstaff warmed to the task that he had been trained for and understood. “We would be most disappointed. And it’s quite informal, as you can see.”

“Well, thank you. I’d consider it an honor.”

The door opened and a steward came in with iced champagne and glasses. He offered the tray to Zergeyev, then to Longstaff and to Struan and to Monsey.

“To a safe journey home,” Longstaff said.

They drank.

“Superb champagne, Your Excellency. Superb.”

“Please sit down.”

The lunch was served with flawless protocol, Zergeyev sitting on Longstaff’s right hand and Struan on his left. Stewards brought smoked sausages and oysters, Yorkshire hams, a bubbling stew of fresh-killed beef, a roast haunch of lamb, boiled potatoes and pickled cabbage.

“I’m sorry we have no caviar,” Longstaff said.

“I would be glad to give you some, Your Excellency, as soon as my ship arrives. We had the misfortune to run into a storm in the Sunda Strait. We sprang a leak and put into your port of Singapore. The mail packet was leaving by the same tide, so I booked passage here.”

And thus avoided giving us advance notice, Longstaff thought. Sunda Strait meant a voyage via the Cape of Good Hope. What the devil was he up to?

“I’ve heard that the Singapore climate’s intemperate, Mr. Struan, at this time of the year,” Zergeyev was saying.

“Aye, it is,” Struan said. “Is this your first voyage to Asia, Your Highness?”

“Yes.”

“Well, perhaps we can make your stay pleasant. I’m giving a ball this evening. I’d be honored if you would come. It would give you an opportunity to meet everyone.”

“You are too kind.”

“How long do you plan to stay?”

“Only until my ship arrives. I’m making an informal visit to our Alaskan possessions.”

“Was the ship damaged badly?”

“I don’t really know, Mr. Struan. I’m not too experienced in these things. She’ll follow here as soon as possible.”

“Then you’ll need accommodations,” Struan said, suspecting that Zergeyev knew a great deal about “those things,” and that the “unseaworthiness” of his ship would be a convenient way to vary, at his pleasure, the length of his stay. Struan also had a hunch that Singapore was the first port of call, outward bound from St. Petersburg. “We’ll be glad to offer you a suite aboard one of our stationary vessels. It will na be luxurious, but we’ll endeavor to make you comfortable.”

“That’s exceedingly kind of you. There’s just myself and four servants. They can sleep anywhere.”

“I’ll see they’re well berthed. Ah, thank you,” Struan said to the steward as his glass was refilled. “Is she a four-masted brig?”

“Three.”

“I prefer three-masters mysel’. Much handier in a high sea. Sails are easier to reef. You carry royals and a top ta’-gallants?”

“There seem to be an adequate number of sails, Mr. Struan. Whatever their names.”

Struan had caught the imperceptible hesitation, and he knew that Zergeyev was a seaman. Now, why would he wish to hide that?

“I hear the Middle East crisis has been solved,” Zergeyev said.

“Yes,” Longstaff replied. “The news came by the mail packet.”

“Most fortunate. France was more than a little wise to withdraw from her militant position.”

“The importance of the Dardanelles to Britain is obvious,” Longstaff said. “It’s to the advantage of all of us to keep the peace.”

“It’s a pity that France and Prussia seem to feel the opposite. And the Hapsburgs. Britain and Russia are hereditary allies and their interests are similar. It’s a happy thought that we’ll be working more closely together in the future.”

“Yes,” Longstaff said blandly. “Of course Paris is very close to London.”

“Isn’t it a pity that that glorious city should always seem to find the most curious leaders?” Zergeyev said. “A beautiful people, beautiful. Yet their leaders are always puffed with vanity and seemingly determined to pull the world apart.”

“The great problem of the world, Your Highness. Europe, and how to curb the vanity of princes. Of course, in Britain we’re fortunate to have a Parliament, and the might of Britain no longer goes to war on a single man’s whim.”

“Yes. It’s a great and glorious experiment, one fit for the splendid attributes of your country, sir. But it’s not suitable for all nations. Wasn’t it the ancient Greeks who came to the conclusion that the most perfect form of government was a benevolent dictatorship? The rule of one man?”

“Benevolent, yes. But elected. Not a ruler by divine right.”

“Who can say, with absolute surety, that divine right does not exist?”

“Ah, Your Highness,” Longstaff said, “no one questions the existence of God. Only the right of a king to do what he likes, when he likes, without consulting the people. We’ve had a long line of English ‘divine’ kings whom we’ve found to be fallible. Fallibility in a leader is very trying. Isn’t it? They spill so much of other people’s blood.”

Zergeyev chuckled. “I love the humor of the English.” He glanced at Struan. “You’re Scots, Mr. Struan?”

“Aye. British. There’s nae difference between Scots and English nowadays.” He sipped his wine. “We tired of stealing their cattle. We thought it’d be better to steal the whole country, so we left Scotland and moved south.”

They all laughed and drank more wine.

Longstaff was amused to note that Monsey had remained silent throughout the meal, agitated by Struan’s bluffness.

“What do you think, Mr. Struan?” Zergeyev said. “Could you run The Noble House with a ‘Parliament’ to contend with?”

“No, Your Highness. But I only commit a

company into conflict—into competition—with other traders. I risk only myself and my company. Na the lives of others.”

“Yet there is a war now with China. Because the heathen had the temerity to interfere with your trade. Isn’t that correct?”

“Partially. Of course, the decision for war was hardly mine.”

“Of course. My point was that you have sole right to operate a vast trading concern and that is the most efficient way. One man’s rule. Right for a company, a fleet, a nation.”

“Aye. Provided you’re successful,” Struan said, making a joke. Then he added seriously, “Perhaps, for the present, a parliamentary system is not suitable for Russia—-and some other countries—but I’m convinced this earth will never be at peace until all nations have the English parliamentary system, and all the people have a right to vote, and no single man ever controls the destiny of any nation, either by divine right or by right of stupid votes of a stupid electorate.”

“I agree,” Zergeyev said. “Your hypothesis is correct. But it has one vast flaw. You presume an enlightened world population—all equally educated, all equally prosperous— which is of course impossible, isn’t it? You should travel in Russia to see how impossible that is. And you make no allowances for nationalism or for differences in faith. If you added ‘until all nations are Christian,’ then perhaps you would be correct. But how can you imagine French Catholics will agree with Protestant English? Or the Russian Orthodox Church with Spanish Jesuits? Or all of those with the masses of infidel Mohammedans and they with the miserable Jews and they with the idolaters and heathen?”

Struan took a deep breath. “I’m glad you asked that question,” he said and stopped with finality.

“I can see we will be having many interesting discussions,” Longstaff said easily. “Tea, Your Highness? There’s a prizefight in an hour. If you’re not too tired, perhaps you’d care to witness it. It promises to be quite a match. The navy versus the army.”

“I’d be delighted, Excellency. Which do you pick? I’ll take the opposition.”

“A guinea on the navy.”

“Done.”

After lunch they had tea and cigars, and at length Monsey escorted the archduke back to the mail packet. Longstaff dismissed the stewards.

“I think a frigate should instantly ‘happen’ to take a visit to Singapore,” he said to Struan.

“I had the same thought, Will. He’s a seaman, I’m sure.”

“Yes. That was very clever, Dirk.” Longstaff played with his teacup. “And he’s a most astute man. Such a man would probably be most careful with official documents.”

“I had the same thought.”

“I enjoyed my stay in St. Petersburg. Except for the long hours at school. I had to learn to read and write Russian, as well as French, of course. Russian’s a very difficult language.”

Struan poured some tea. “You never did like prizefights, did you, Will?”

“No. I think I’ll just escort him ashore and then come back aboard. Take a nap in private.” Longstaff laughed dryly. “Prepare for tonight’s festivities, what?”

Struan got up. “Aye. And I’d better think of a few seeds of discontent to sow mysel’.”

As the stewards cleared the table, Longstaff stared idly at the leaves in his cup. “No,” he said, retaining it and the teapot. “And see that I’m not disturbed. Call me in an hour.”

“Yes, sirr.”

He stifled a yawn, his mind drifting pleasantly in the quiet of the cabin. ’Pon me word, I’m delighted Zergeyev’s here. Now we can enjoy life a little. Parry and thrust diplomatically. Probe his mind, that’s the ticket. Forget the incessant irritations of the colony, and the damned traders and the cursed emperor of the cursed heathen, damn bunch of thieves.

He opened the door to his private cabin and lay comfortably on the bunk, his hands behind his head. What was it Dirk said? he asked himself. Ah yes, seeds of discontent. That’s a good way of putting it. What seeds can

we plant? Grim hints about China’s power? The hugeness of her population? That Her Majesty’s Government may annex the whole country if

any power intrudes? The complications of the trade in opium? Tea?

He heard the clatter of feet aloft as the watch changed and the marine band began practicing. He yawned again and closed his eyes contentedly. Nothing like a nap after lunch, he told himself. Thank God I’m a gentleman—don’t have to plant real seeds like a smelly peasant or filthy farmer. Damn, fancy working with your hands all day! Sowing seeds. Growing things. All the muck spreading. Horrifying thought. Sowing diplomatic seeds is much more important and the work of a gentleman. Now, where was I? Ah yes. Tea. Life must have been terrible before we had tea. Absolutely. Can’t understand how people existed without tea. Pity it doesn’t grow in England, That would save a lot of trouble.

“Great God in heaven!” he burst out and sat upright.

“Tea! Of course tea! It’s been under your nose for years and you’ve never seen it! You’re a genius!” He was so excited with his idea that he jumped off the bed and danced a jig. Then he relieved himself in the chamber pot and went into the main cabin and sat at his desk, his heart pounding. You know how to solve the Britain-China nightmare of the tea-bullion-opium imbalance.

You know, he told himself, astonished and awed by the brilliance and simplicity of the idea that Struan’s final sally had triggered. “Good God, Dirk,” he chorted aloud, “if you only knew. You’ve cut your own throat, and all the China traders along with you. To the glory of Britain and the immortality of me!”

Yes, absolutely. So you’d better keep your mouth shut, he cautioned himself. Walls have ears.

The idea was so simple: Destroy China’s tea monopoly. Buy or beg or steal—in great secrecy—a ton of the seeds of the tea plant. Transport the seeds surreptitiously to India. There must be dozens of areas in which tea could flourish. Dozens. And in my lifetime plantations could be flourishing—growing our own teas, on our soil. With our own tea, we’ll no longer need bullion or opium to pay for China teas. Profit on Indian tea sales will soon equal, double, triple the sale of opium, so that’s not a problem. We’ll grow the teas of the world and we’ll sell to the world. The Crown gains in fantastically increased tea revenues, for of course we will grow it cheaper and better and the price will be below China teas. British brains and all that! And we’ll gain in moral grandeur for ceasing opium trading. The cursed opium smugglers are put out of business, for without the lever of opium they serve no useful function, so we can outlaw opium. India gains hugely. China gains, for there’ll be no more opium smuggling, and she consumes her own tea anyway.

And you, William Longstaff—the only man who can implement such a plan—you will gain in monumental prestige. With modest luck, a dukedom offered by a grateful Parliament, for you and you alone will have solved the un-solvable.

But whom can I trust to get the tea seeds? And how to persuade the Chinese to sell them? Of course they’ll discern the consequences immediately. And whom to trust to transport the seeds safely? Can’t use one of the traders—they’d sabotage me at once if they had the slightest inkling! And how to get the Viceroy of India on your side now, so that he won’t steal the credit for the idea?