SQ 04 - The English Concubine Page 2

  ‘No. I forbid you to sell the ah ku houses. They are your only means of income. The problem is that greedy boy. Get rid of him and some sense would return to your life.’

  Qian shrugged. He could no more do without Hafiz than stop breathing. The boy was as beautiful and sleek as a young god and knew how to make a man’s body do things which made your blood ignite. He had found him in the brothel in Malacca and brought him here.

  ‘Since my wife died, I have been alone. You don’t understand.’

  Zhen shrugged. Qian was besotted, head over heels for this spoilt boy upon whom he lavished money and gifts, diamond earpins, golden bracelets, silken clothes. He pranced through Chinatown dressed like a sultan with his pet monkey on his shoulder, turning heads wherever he passed. No speech would change anything.

  ‘Anyway, the syndicate is for the big money boys.’

  ‘You have money,’ Qian said and threw him an acid look, ‘and plenty of it.’

  ‘I don’t get involved in prostitution or the opium syndicate. And the consortium for the Klang tin mines will not have you.’

  Zhen was part of a group of Chinese and European merchants bidding to lease the rich vein of tin in the Klang river basin from the current Sultan. But there was a dispute. There was always a dispute between the sultans. When the old fellow died the succession was always a mess, and each claimant sought British and Chinese aid to settle the disputes.

  ‘In any case it is held up by the fighting between the brothers. Until that’s fixed, well.’

  ‘But by that time, we will be related, eh Zhen? Can we not advance the marriage of Lian and Ah Soon? Why wait? She is of marriageable age. Then the English merchants will see I am allied to you and will give me credit. Enough to get into your consortium or into the opium syndicate.’

  Zhen felt immense exasperation. Qian just didn’t listen to sense. He wanted his boy and his opium and the rest was ignored. He found Qian more and more tiresome. He had caused the problem with his son, Ah Soon, by taking him out of school where he was a clever scholar, fluent in English and Chinese, skilled at mathematics. Now Ah Soon was supposed to help manage the ah ku houses and Zhen knew he resented it. The English school with its Christian teachers installed lofty aims in its pupils. It was dangerous to put sons in them and then expect them to be you or fling them thoughtlessly back to earth. The friend Zhen had loved had somehow disappeared and this greedy, selfish, lustful man had taken his place.

  ‘Qian, you must regulate your finances. As for Ah Soon, you were foolish to take him out of school. I told you. I’ll pay the tuition if you allow him to go back.’

  Qian shrugged.

  ‘Ah Soon had better learn his business. He has no more need of Shakespeare or Jesus Christ. I came from nothing and he should know what that’s like. Get his soft hands a little dirty.’

  Zhen had no answer. This little speech was utter hypocrisy. Qian had inherited great wealth and squandered it. He was entirely to blame for the ruin of his family. He wanted the marriage to Lian so that Ah Soon would, in effect, become Zhen’s issue as well. Ah Soon’s increasingly problematic opium habit was another worrying issue. Zhen knew that sooner or later he would have to step in and sort the boy out. Qian was incapable of it.

  The noise in the banqueting room rose another level as food was brought in. Three hundred men enjoying the convivial atmosphere meant a buzz heavier than a meeting of bees. The rice wine circulated and some men had moved away to the opium room for some pipes.

  ‘Why won’t you help me?’ Qian whined and Zhen shook his head.

  A large shape loomed over Zhen’s shoulder.

  Zhen turned and recognised Wang Chu Wei, head of the Red Rods. Zhen had been an enforcer himself in China years ago and he and Wang often drank together in the town where Wang controlled the gangs of samseng, the men who guarded the ah ku and coolie houses, the illegal gambling dens and the arrack taverns, and carried out any other activity which required them. He rose and clapped a hand on the shoulder of Wang.

  ‘Ironfist Wang, how are you?’

  Wang smiled. Two of his front teeth were missing. It just made him look even more frightening than his muscular build and the long scar down his cheek managed to.

  ‘A little trouble with my teeth but otherwise well.’

  ‘I told you to go to my shop. My apothecary will see to you.’

  Wang bowed. He was terrified of all apothecaries.

  ‘The Deputy Lord wishes to speak with you.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Zhen followed Wang into a smaller room, dominated by the altar to Guan Yu, the spiritual head of all the brotherhoods. Four men were present. Wang closed the door. Before the altar, at a low table, sat the Deputy Mountain Lord, the Incense Master, head of ritual and ceremony, and the Vanguard, in charge of administration and recruitment. These officials were all merchants who occupied the highest positions in the kongsi. The fourth man, seated to one side, Zhen did not know. He bowed low and waited. Something was up.

  ‘This is Master Zhen of the Tan Clan,’ the Deputy Mountain Lord said, addressing the man seated to one side. ‘He has a trading company and the biggest Chinese-owned fleet in Singapore. He has kinship links in Manila, Siam and Batavia. He is a filial son. His father-in-law’s funeral is still talked about today. He also does much charitable work with the Tan Clan temple school, is benefactor of the Chinese hospital and the Thian Hock Keng temple. He is also advisor to the English governor.’

  Zhen bowed in acknowledgement of this flattering account.

  ‘From time to time only,’ he said.

  ‘This is Cheng Sam Teo, he is the Shan Chu’s son-in-law, Kapitan Cina of Riau.’

  Zhen bowed to the man. He was thin-lipped and sharp-eyed.

  ‘Please sit.’

  Zhen complied.

  ‘What we have to say to you is private, you understand. We should like to ask you to keep this in confidence and to grant a favour.’

  Zhen nodded. Whatever was going on, the kongsi leaders controlled the coolie labour force which loaded and unloaded his ships. They could be called out to strike at any moment. No merchant in his right mind would refuse them a favour.

  ‘It is already granted, sir,’ he said.

  ‘The Shan Chu, Wei Sun Wei, has died in China.’

  Zhen’s face showed nothing. He had expected this, especially in the presence of the son-in-law.

  ‘I am sorry. It is very regrettable,’ he said.

  He turned to Cheng. ‘My deepest condolences to your family, sir.’

  Cheng gave a nod of acknowledgement.

  ‘The death of the Shan Chu is unfortunate,’ the Deputy went on. ‘But worse is that it coincides with the bid for the opium farm, which is currently being run by Wei Sun Wei’s’s deputy, Tay Ong Siang. He will certainly bid for the farm when it comes up. The bad blood between Tay and Hong Boon Tek has been on hold for five peaceful years but now we fear it will re-emerge. Both Tay and Hong want to be leader of the kongsi.’

  This was bad news. Tay was a Teochew with his power base in Johor, the second biggest merchant after Wei Sun Wei. Hong was a Hokkien with the only remaining plantations in Singapore, as well as in Johor and Riau. He was the chief coolie broker in Singapore, the main supplier of girls to the brothels and held the spirit farm. The business of the plantations of gambier and pepper and their coolies, the business of the kongsi and the business of the excise farms were inextricably bound. Any power struggle spelled trouble for everyone.

  ‘But how can either displace you,’ he said, looking at the Deputy.

  ‘I am too old and have not enough power to hold. I do not control labour.’

  ‘Hong is wealthy and vindictive,’ Cheng interjected. ‘I am Kapitan at Riau, with the opium farm, but Hong has a network of smugglers who unload tons of chandu from his illegal farms and drive the price into the ground. I have my own chintengs, who police as best they are able but there are a thousand islands and the Dutch Resident sympathises but has little in
terest once he has the excise revenue.’

  ‘I’m not sure how I can help,’ Zhen said.

  ‘You have no interest in the syndicate. Yet you have great wealth through your fleet of ships and your domination of the rice and hardwood trade.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Zhen said cautiously, ‘but I have no power to control the labour force.’

  ‘I inherit my late father-in-law’s Johor plantations.’

  ‘I see,’ Zhen said, though he was still not absolutely sure what was going on.

  ‘I would bid to become the Shan Chu but, though I am heir to Wei Sun Wei, I am, at this time, unknown in Singapore or Johor. At this precarious time, the Grand Triad needs a man who can hold it together, has no interests in the syndicate rivalries. A man respected for his good works in the kongsi, and for his diplomacy.’

  Cheng leant forward and gazed at Zhen intensely.

  ‘It needs you.’

  Zhen was astounded. ‘Me?’

  ‘We have spoken to the Temenggong, of course. He agrees with us. You have an amicable relationship with him and the agent Kerr and lawyer Napier.’

  Zhen could only nod. They had thought this out carefully.

  ‘If we back you, it is possible to block both Tay and Hong until the opium farm has been leased again for another year, through a new syndicate.’

  ‘Your syndicate,’ Zhen said, seeing where this was going.

  ‘It is for the good of the kongsi,’ Cheng said.

  Zheng looked back to the Deputy. Clearly they wanted a puppet to hold on to things until they could put their syndicate together. In the meantime, he would be caught in the middle of the in-fighting which would take place. He would spend all his time doing nothing but placating a lot of greedy men intent on ruining each other.

  The Incense Master looked down and the Vanguard searched in his ear with his long fingernail for some morsel. The Deputy merely gazed at Zhen and sucked his tea.

  This was not a request. These men didn’t make requests to a bondsman. How can I wriggle out of this, Zhen thought.

  ‘I am perhaps too close to the Europeans.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Cheng said, ‘you are trusted by all members of the community. A good relationship with the English government benefits the kongsi. I hope you will do everything you can to introduce me to the ruling elite. To be known to the governor and the high officials will help with my bid for the farms.’

  ‘You speak their language fluently. You are the acceptable face of China for the ang moh,’ the Deputy said.

  Zhen was beginning to understand why he had been chosen.

  ‘But there is perhaps one other problem. I have a close relationship with the police chief and his sister.’

  Cheng’s face remained impassive. ‘Yes, of course. All the more reason for your recommendation to the government on matters Chinese to carry weight.’

  Cheng turned away to pick up a tea cup.

  ‘Though for the duration of your stewardship, that particular closeness might be misread by the general populace. Trust in you must be infinite and unquestionable to people with limited imaginations. Coolies are the most ignorant and superstitious of men, attributing their own actions or natural disaster to bad luck and malefic influences. The influence of a blue-eyed ghost woman over the head of the kongsi for example. You understand. Ignorance, but that is how they think.’

  Zhen listened but he didn’t like it. The man was ordering him to stay away from Xia Lou. The vanguard and the incense master were nodding. They all thought that way, not just the coolies. Zhen knew it.

  ‘Mrs. Manouk is a Scottish woman, not a blue-eyed ghost. You allow yourself to talk most freely about my personal life.’

  ‘Forgive me. It is regrettable I agree but these are the facts. She does not live under your roof and thus is seen not under your control, able to spread her malign influence more freely. No, I think it is safer, for the short time, to distance yourself from the personal nature of that relationship.’

  Zhen stood and glared at Cheng.

  ‘Please, I apologise. I am simply stating some facts as they are seen by others.’

  Silence fell between the two men. Zhen thought furiously.

  ‘We have more connections than you think.’

  Cheng placed his cup carefully on its stand and looked at Zhen.

  ‘My first daughter is the third wife of the Kapitan Cina of Batavia. Your eldest daughter is principal wife to his eldest son. My sister is the principal wife of the Shan Chu of the Semarang Kongsi, son of the Goei family.’

  Zhen nodded. The Goei were the oldest and richest family of Straits Chinese in Semarang. Semarang was a great port in central Java. Much timber was shipped through it. Whoever controlled the kongsi there controlled the labour force which brought the logs to the mill and thence to the port. Cheng was telling him that he had influential tentacles in many levels of the Chinese society of the Dutch East Indies. This may have been the reason Wei Sun Wei had married his daughter to Cheng in the first place.

  In one breath Cheng had threatened both Charlotte’s business interests and his own, for the Manouk House had sugar lands and factories in Semarang. His commercial interests needed the Semarang labour force, but Zhen knew, too, that there was trouble in the Manouk House with debts linked to the sugar lands. Any such trouble now could cause her great financial distress.

  Cheng rose and bowed to Zhen. ‘I would be most obliged and would attempt to grant you any favours you might ask. We can be friends. It is only for a short time.’

  The iron fist in the silken glove. All things considered, Zhen saw he had little choice.

  ‘For the kongsi,’ Zhen said.

  3

  ‘They say his leg was shot away and he has no use of one arm. What a sight he must be.’ Sarah Blundell giggled and put her hand in front of her mouth, somewhat ashamed.

  ‘How must it be for his poor wife? How on earth do they, well, you know.’

  The two girls shared a look and giggled even harder.

  ‘Do you think he has a wooden leg? Gosh, it must clonk on the floor and drive everyone distracted.’

  The girls began to limp woodenly around the room, their legs becoming entangled in their skirts until they collapsed on the sofa in laughter.

  Sarah arranged her blue and white voile dress more decorously over her silk petticoat. Amber too, took a moment to straighten her yellow figured organza over her hoop petticoat, making sure Sarah got a good look at this new item of apparel. Sarah chose to ignore it. The fashion for hoops and layers of petticoats, whalebone ribbing and vast flounces had recently arrived in Singapore but her father forbade it on grounds of extravagance and health.

  ‘She must love him, mustn’t she, with all that clanking,’ Sarah said. ‘I shall only marry for love. My cousin, Victoria, married some rich old stinker in Calcutta. For his money.’

  ‘Gosh, I’ll only marry for love too. Imagine, some old rich stinker with a big fat belly. Horrid.’

  The girls giggled and picked up their teacups. Amber Macleod looked at her friend.

  ‘But how shall it be for you, Sarah, when your father leaves? You shall miss him terribly.’

  Sarah Blundell, last child of the eleven children of Governor Edmund Augustus Blundell, smiled at Amber.

  ‘Oh not in the least bit. We girls have so little to do with him, after all; and he is so unpopular, you know, since he tried to sell off the land before the Beach Road houses and asked for a harbour tax. Everyone complains of him and he has probably had enough. I shall stay with Ann until I marry. Ann’s husband, James, is popular with the other officers and I shall be thrown amongst them. And I am happy to be with Mother.’

  Amber sipped her tea. Of course. Sarah’s mother would not be returning to England with her father. She was Burmese and not actually the Governor’s wife at all, but his nyai. She was a slightly built, shy woman who, naturally, never attended official functions and kept very much to herself. She had a small coterie of Burmese friends and famil
y with whom she spent most of her time.

  ‘It seems hard for your mother,’ Amber said.

  ‘It’s hard to say. She says so little. But Father has made sure she is well cared for. He has bought her the new house at Kampong Glam, she has her friends and my widowed sister Mary with her children who will live with her. And of course they are both now so old, so perhaps she shall not miss him so much.’

  Amber nodded. Of course, the Governor was decrepit, almost sixty. But still, his Burmese mistress had been by his side for more than thirty years and borne him eleven children. Can it truly be said that she would not be distressed at his departure? This was a subject which Amber thought on often, for the idea of her own father deserting her mother and sailing away to the other side of the world was one which she found most distressing. She was glad he was seeking to marry her. It was only right. She gave no thought to Teresa, her father’s legitimate wife. She cared for her half-brother Andrew, of course, who was sweet, but she wished, with no more thought than a moment, that Teresa would stop being so stubborn.

  Since she had been old enough to understand such things, she found this habit of English men living almost the whole of their lives with an Asian mistress then simply returning home to marry some so-called respectable matron in their doting years extremely distasteful. Of course they took care of their offspring. Sarah’s sisters, like Sarah herself, had all been educated at the girls’ school at the Institution. Her brothers were schooled in Calcutta. One had joined Jardines in Hong Kong and another was at university in Oxford. But still.

  But go he chose to do, resigning his position, and he was to be replaced by the new governor, William Orfeur Cavenagh, and his wife Elizabeth. This was exciting news for Colonel Cavenagh was a war hero, a saviour of the Indian Mutiny when he had held Fort William from the savage and ungodly hordes.

  ‘I have heard that Colonel Cavenagh has two good-looking sons. They are at school in Calcutta with my third brother. Perhaps I shall marry one of them.’