The Red Thread (25 page)

His two wives and daughters appeared, dressed similarly in sackcloth and lamenting the misery of losing their lord and master. The younger daughter did not wail, though she walked with her eyes downcast. Charlotte thought her a pretty thing, despite the garments of mourning she was wearing.

Then she glimpsed Zhen through the crowd. He was leading a group of men dressed similarly in white, each with one shoulder bared. They wore armbands on the naked arms, covered in strange characters. All but Zhen carried a pennant painted with symbols.

As they reached the corner she had a clear view of him. Her pulse quickened despite her mental scolding. She thought he might have noticed her, but he looked impassively forward and made no sign of seeing her. Then he was swallowed up by the multitude of men, thousands, she thought, which trailed along behind this procession.

Finally the Europeans grew tired and the group broke up. Coleman took everyone back to his house and gave them drinks. He planned to attend the funeral at the Chinese burial ground on the hill, and they made up a small party, without Takouhi, however, who said she had seen enough. After some discussion, she allowed George to take their daughter; she would meet up with them later for a picnic on Mount Wallich.

So George took Charlotte and Meda Elizabeth, together with John Connolly and Father Lee.

They made their way to the cemetery well ahead of the procession and, leaving the horse and carriage in the care of George's syce, climbed around the hill. Both sides of the wide path were lined with booths selling foodstuffs and drinks and offering entertainments for the gathering crowd. With the jugglers, puppet shows, magicians and other entertainments, the road had the air of a fair rather than a funeral.

A pretty Chinese temple, with its elegant green tiled curving roof and gatehouse stood on the slope. A sound of chanting emanated from over its high walls. Several of George's Indian servants had arrived well before and set out chairs for their party in front of the temple, in the shade of a pair of splendid dragon's claw trees.

The geomancer had chosen a grave site in the north-western corner, a retired part, where the bush had been cleared and a path made for the arrival of the catafalque. The priests, dressed in saffron robes, came out of the temple as the procession arrived and led them to the grave site. The silk covering and flowers were removed, and, to the loud and urgent banging of gongs and cries and shouts, the pallbearers, grunting and streaming with sweat, managed to manoeuvre the heavy black coffin into the gaping hole. Vast quantities of paper gold ingots were burnt at the graveside, sending a pall of smoke into the vault of the sky. The son and the male relatives had taken their places in a ditch dug for them on the lower side of the grave; they continued wailing and shrieking. The women were not present at this part of the ceremony but kept up their lamentations some distance away.

Looking out for another glimpse of Zhen amongst the great crowd, Charlotte suddenly observed Mr Dawson, of whom she had seen little since her arrival. He and several other men were engaged in the distribution of what she could only imagine were Christian tracts and Bibles. When she pointed this out to George, he said wryly,

‘They'd be better employed preaching the gospel to their countrymen. There can't be upward of three people in the whole throng who can read. They walk the neighbourhoods, tramp through the interior, board the ships and junks from China, Siam and everywhere. The American missionaries are even more industrious, for they have their own vessel so that the literati of the swamps and backwaters of Borneo and Java might share in the bounty.'

By now the noise was overpowering, and Coleman adjudged it best to depart. They made their way down the hill through the noisy throng, George holding Meda Elizabeth in his arms. Connolly had taken Charlotte's hand so as not to lose her, and Father Lee led the way with the Indian servants and guards, calling out in Chinese to clear a path. They emerged hot and exhausted from the crowd and Charlotte was more than happy to sit back in the carriage.

As the carriages gently climbed near Mount Wallich, Charlotte contemplated the scene. The tree-covered hill, the roofs of the town, the white sandy beach, the sapphire harbour. At this height the wind was strong and cooling and rippled through the branches of the trees like seaweed under clear water.

When they had eaten and drunk everything Takhoui had laid out for the picnic, they began the return journey. Crossing over Coleman's elegant curved seven-arched brick bridge, the carriage turned down High Street and passed in front of Sang's house. A screen bearing Sang's name and age covered the entire doorway. Guards were lined up the length of the fifteen-foot-high wall which surrounded his compound. A delicious smell of roasted pig wafted out into the street, hinting at the funeral meal that was to come.

‘By the saints,' said George, ‘you've got to admit the Chinese know how to give a man a blazing good sendoff.'

26

The
Singapore Free Press
was filled with news of the departure of the forces and vessels of the China expedition for the ‘opium war', as it had been termed.

‘
H.M. ships-of-war
Wellesley, Cruizer
and
Algerine,
troopship
Rattlesnake
and H.C. steamer
Atalanta,
with sixteen sail of transport vessels, got under way for China, presenting a fine and animated spectacle as they steered out of the roads in three divisions, one of Her Majesty's ships at the head of each.
'

Charlotte had watched them leave, sorry for the men she had seen every day for the last few weeks, as they had waited for this departure. Robert had told her that a large number of ships were already in Chinese waters. He was relieved at the disappearance of such a large mob of men, for Chinatown had been unruly and violent every night. There had been stabbings, beatings, drunken attacks on the women in the brothels. Corpses of soldiers and sailors floating in the river were commonplace, for the Chinese reprisals were swift. The army patrols kept some order, but Robert was very glad to see the back of the troops and the fleet.

When most of the warships and steamers had departed, Rear Admiral Elliot, commander in chief of H.M. naval forces east of the Cape, arrived in the
Melville
and landed under a deafening salute from the battery, which had shaken the bungalow and sent all the birds in the jungle wheeling and screeching into the sky. Now, after a mishap involving the seizure of three Chinese junks in the harbour, he too had departed to batter down the forts at Canton.

When Charlotte had discussed this invasion with the munshi, he had told her that none of the Chinese truly believed the English could win.

But to her question Baba Tan had had a quite different response. ‘I have never been to China, but I think it is quite a backward country. Still they bind the feet of their women. It is barbaric. They cannot see the advantages of trade with the world. But the English with the Queen Victoria are enlightened, so they must change their minds.'

She realised then that, unlike the coolies, people like the baba and his family had no emotional ties with China. Despite his looks, customs and dress, his admiration and loyalty essentially rested with the English, and he felt himself to be, as much as any Englishman, one of Queen Victoria's loyal subjects. She found this oddly touching. She liked him very much, and now this strange affection for a land so far away only seemed more endearing.

Zhen and Qian watched as Charlotte approached along the low wall and through the garden of the mission chapel. They had arrived for their first English lesson. Zhen was determined not to make an ass of himself this time, and as she walked through the door, both men rose and bowed to her.

Qian saw what Zhen meant. She was a very lovely woman. He had never seen blue eyes on a woman and couldn't decide whether he liked them or not. When she took off her floppy brimmed hat he saw her hair was a glistening black. She motioned them to sit.

Charlotte, too, was determined to remain cool and collected.

‘Hello,' she said. ‘Let us begin,' and pointed to the words she had said and the Chinese symbols which Father Lee had written next to them.

Then she passed out papers that Father Lee had printed with Chinese instructions. These said that they would begin with the English alphabet which was at the bottom, and every day would be expected to learn dialogues.

They began with the alphabet pronunciation as she wrote the letters on the board. After this they practiced the dialogues. The word ‘hello' was difficult to say, though Zhen understood what it meant. It sounded different in her mouth. He watched as she repeated the word several times and completely lost his concentration. When it came time for him to say a letter or repeat a word, he could hardly speak. Charlotte, too, had difficulty keeping steady, especially when his eyes rested so intently on her mouth. She recovered by concentrating on Qian, who spoke up boldly, enjoying the new sounds his mouth was making.

Finally the hour was up. Father Lee came into the room and spoke briefly to the two men in Chinese. He gave them each a Chinese–English dictionary and showed them how to use it.

After they had gone, Charlotte went outside into the garden and sat down on a bench in a grove of coral trees. She was pleased with her performance, for despite the urge to touch his smooth cheek each time she passed him, she felt she had kept her emotions under control.

She liked his friend, Qian, too, who was willing and clever: his sharp eyes, his little nose, his pointy ears, the high cheekbones of his face. He was not good-looking like Zhen, but she felt his intelligence and dependability. He had wished her goodbye very creditably after just this one lesson.

The two men made their way back to Chinatown. Zhen looked grim and he said not one word. When they reached Monkey Bridge, he stopped abruptly and looked over the shaky parapet into the water. The tide was up and the river full. The wind was blowing stiffly, and even from here they could hear the cracks of the flags on the staff on the hill.

‘We stand here between two worlds, theirs and ours. How can we ever be comfortable in theirs? It is impossible.'

Qian knew his friend was not talking about the European and Chinese but about himself and this lady, Xia Lou.

Qian replied steadily, ‘We can learn their language, for many before us have done so. So can you, but you are shy before her because you like her. We shall practise together like the Chinese priest says, and with the Chinese Christian boy who speaks English well. It is necessary, you well know, for success in business here. It does not matter what your feelings are for the lady; this knowledge is important.'

They made their way over the bridge, and Zhen turned to his friend.

‘I know you are right. I know I should put all ideas about her from my head. This is the difficult part. I do not know if it was a mistake or a good thing that I shall see her every day. Whether it is better that she become familiar or remain a mystery.'

Qian felt somewhat exasperated at his friend. Zhen was a Taoist. They were supposed to have control of their feelings, weren't they? But he said kindly, ‘Perhaps after your marriage these feelings will subside.' Qian put his hand on Zhen's arm. ‘Zhen Ah, don't weave nets to catch the wind.'

Over the next few weeks Zhen relaxed in Charlotte's company. He started to understand the strange sounds and remember words.

‘Hello, let us begin,' had become second nature to him, and he had learned to write the alphabet and the new words. His calligraphy was not good, but then he thought the language was quite ugly and its writing like chicken scratchings. He was annoyed that Qian seemed to be making much better progress, and to keep up with his friend he started to reread the dialogues and look up words in the dictionary.

Every morning as the first light appeared, he practised the movements of the
tai chi
in a grove of abandoned fruit trees behind Bukit Larangan, letting himself be swept into the slow fluid movements, feeling the
chi
, the vital breath, move around his body, harmonising his mind, body and spirit. Now he could smile at himself. If this was meant to be it would be. Everything was in the non-striving Tao. ‘Hold fast enough to quietness, submit to the always-so'. The words of the eternal way.

Sometimes Qian would meet his friend in this grove, watching Zhen in the cool, pale morning light, his half-naked body moving gracefully like a reed in a river as he emptied his mind, arms falling, hands turning, feet stepping light as air in the age-old patterns. He was a thing of golden beauty in this dance of the Tao, the gnarled trees guarding him, leaves rustling on the wind, fluttering to the ground. Qian was always moved. When he finished, Zhen would call Qian, smiling his pleasure at his presence, and show him some movements. Qian was awkward, though, with his limpy leg, and the proximity to Zhen's golden skin pearling with sweat made concentration impossible.

So they would walk round the hill on the old broken-up path to a spring and drink the sweet water, Zhen splashing the sweat from his face and torso, flicking it at Qian, laughing, enjoying the morning and their friendship.

Two or three times a week, Qian, Zhen and the young Chinese Christian, who called himself Matteo, would meet in Baba Tan's godown and practise English. They were curious about this boy and also asked him lots of questions about the mission chapel. This they were forced to do in a mixture of English, which he spoke well, having been raised by the brothers in Penang, and their poor Malay. He could speak Cantonese but read and write only a little. This forced and struggling communication nevertheless meant that they advanced somewhat faster than might have been expected.

Matteo told them that the Christian Chinese were called Hong Kah, a brotherhood, just like the
kongsi
to which they belonged. Their god was just one god, more powerful than all the Chinese gods put together, and the mission helped them with work and education. He gave them some tracts in Chinese.