The Silk Weaver's Daughter (16 page)

Chapter 22

Pearl River, China, June 1687

M
orning mists rose from the warm, sheltered waters of a large delta, some eighty miles inland from the mouth of the Pearl River, when
The Malabar Merchant
dropped anchor amid a group of well-wooded islands. With the ship hidden deep among the reeds, Captain Sharp and Marc, along with two armed escorts, rowed across to the mainland. There they secured the small craft as best they could in a concealed spot and headed towards the town of Tungkun, a few miles east of Canton.

Finding a man who spoke Portuguese, Marc made enquiries about travel into the city. He managed to organize two sedan chairs for himself and the master. However, there seemed to be a dearth of fancy transport in the town, so the two guards ended up, being shoved along the streets in worn-out wheelbarrows, by a couple of peasant farmers. Even the bearers laughed at the sight of two small oriental men pushing the brawny sailors along the road in their noisy vehicles.

“Never mind, lads,” the captain called out to them. “If we can get this business organized with the Chinese customs, I’ll send you back to the ship in style.”

With Marc doing the talking and Captain Sharp nodding and smiling, they appeared to be Portuguese sailors, so they encountered no problems along the route. By the time they reached the teaming metropolis of Canton, dusk had fallen.

“We’d better wait to settle the customs issue in the morning, I think,” Captain Sharp said to Marc. “Ask them to find us some sort of inn as near the harbour as possible.”

The flea-bitten inn, the bearers led them to, was noisy and smelled of fish, but they were all so tired no one argued about staying there. Marc asked the two sedan owners to wait overnight, and take the sailors back to Tungkun the next afternoon. The captain agreed to procure rooms and a meal for them. However, he paid the two farmers and sent them on their way, along with their decrepit wheelbarrows. By the time he and Marc finished their meal, and were ready to climb the stairs to their shabby rooms, the sailors and the Chinese bearers were drinking themselves into oblivion.

“Well, I’ll let them be. They don’t get much fun when we’re at sea. I’ll consider this shore leave,” the captain said, shaking his head in amusement. “I don’t see how they communicate, though. Neither of my boys speaks a word of Cantonese.” He winked at Marc as they parted at their separate doors.

The next morning, the two of them made their way down to the harbour where they could see several large trading ships moored. The frenzied activity in the port surprised Marc.

“Those two large ones are Portuguese,” the captain explained. “Their home port is Macau, but they pick up tea here. And the other big one anchored across the river is a Dutch East India Company ship, out of Holland.” He also pointed out numerous small boats called
sampans
and the
larger junks
used by the Chinese merchants. As well, two or three medium sized Arab dhows lay at anchor.

“This is all so amazing,” Marc exclaimed. “What are those beautiful white structures along the waterfront?”

“Pretty, aren’t they? The Portuguese built those in their Mediterranean style,” the captain explained. “They’ve been more or less in control here for the last one hundred years. Now, of course, our ‘John Company’ is interested in tea, so things in China are bound to change. The Portuguese and Dutch might as well get used to it.”

They headed for the nearest building. Passing along the narrow street, Marc noted how different the people were from those in India. Here, the groups of labourers and loiterers all seemed possessed of a good-natured hilarity, laughing with each other as they went about their jobs.

As Marc and the captain approached the entrance, they stopped a man who looked like an official and Marc asked in Portuguese if any of them spoke English. Marc translated his reply. “No, there is only one tea merchant who speaks any English at all. His name is Li Jang. He’s down in that building at the far end of the harbour.”

“Well done, Marc,” said the captain, patting him on the back. “You’re worth your weight in gold. I don’t know a word of Portuguese and only a few words of Mandarin. I’ve only been here in China once before. That was up in Amoy, and I had a Chinaman who was born in India with me. He knew enough English to act as a go-between. Well, you have an aptitude for languages I see, so maybe you’ll be able to pick up some of their lingo. But it’s difficult because it’s not related to anything we know.”

By now, they had arrived at the tea merchant’s building and, by pointing and mouthing the words ‘Li Jang’ along with inquiring looks, they managed to find the gentleman in question. He was of medium height with a slim build. His long, straight black hair hung down his back in a thick ponytail covered by a conical-shaped, felt hat. Marc noted his clothes were of pure silk, and he looked quite prosperous compared to the workers they had passed on the dock.

He had a long moustache curving down to his chin, which sported a neat, pointed, little goatee. He was frowning at a paper he was reading, and the overall effect gave him quite a fierce countenance. Nevertheless, Marc decided to approach him.

“Mr. Li?” he said, speaking in Portuguese, “I understand you can speak the Portuguese language and some English as well?”

“Yes. What you want?” the man replied in broken English. He scrutinized them through slanted black eyes with a hint of a twinkle.

“This gentleman is the captain of an English ship moored down the river near Tungkun. We need to get clearance before we dare bring it here, but Captain Sharp doesn’t speak Portuguese. I’m Marc Garneau from France. We’ve just arrived and I’m looking to buy a shipload of tea for myself. We need an honest man to help us arrange, with the customs men, for an English ship to dock here.”

The tea merchant started to laugh, and looked much younger as the frown disappeared. Oh, yes. English not much liked here. But I can help you,” he said. “I come from Amoy so learn English pretty good. You pay me well and I be velly honest. Only fair, you aglee?”

“Of course, Mr. Li, we intend to pay you fairly. How much would you suggest?”

Li named a sum that seemed akin to what they would pay in India. The Captain nodded in agreement and held out his hand to the merchant.

With a broad smile on his face and eyes again twinkling with amusement, Li responded, “Okay then. We shake hands now and make ‘deal’ like English say.

“Good,” Marc interjected. “What happens next?”

“You need proper chop from custom fellows to bring ship here. I can do that. Where you stay now?”

Marc told him the name of the inn. Li wrinkled his nose and said, “Best we go see customs men about
chop
fast. You need your ship here in harbour. Much better to live on. Come, we go together.”

He led the way down to the customs house where, once the officials discovered they were English, a great deal of excited conversation took place. Wondering exactly what was happening, Captain Sharp and Marc stood back while Li handled the situation. He spoke Cantonese animatedly to the group of men, while one particularly angry-looking man kept glancing over their way. After awhile Li came over to them.

“Not looking good right now, my fliends. Maybe you go now. I have to talk to velly important head official. He not here until later. He owes me big favour, so I think he fix trouble. Maybe look around city and then go back to inn. I come to see you tomorrow after morning meal.”

“Well,” Captain Sharp said as they left the building, “that didn’t look too promising. I’m certainly glad we met this Li fellow. We’d never have been able to handle anything this complicated with no knowledge of the language.”

“You’re right about that, Captain,” Marc said. “Li Jang looks more and more like someone I’d like to have as a good friend.”

Chapter 23

Canton, China

T
he two men spent the rest of the day wondering around the ancient city; then went back to the inn, where the sailors and the bearers waited for them, somewhat worse for their drinking spree. The captain explained to the two crewmembers the problem they had encountered.

“I’ll want you lads alert in the morning. No more drinking, you understand. As soon as we get that
chop,
you’ll have to rush it back to the ship and give it to the first mate. I hope you can get that across to those lazy louts who brought us here. Since I have to pay another night for them, they’d better be in good shape, in the morning. I want that ship here in Canton harbour as fast as possible. Two nights in this hell hole are enough for me.”

By mid morning the following day, Li and the administrators had managed to work out the formalities. The Chinese merchant introduced them to one of the officials who handed the crucial
chop
to the Captain. He looked somewhat friendlier than on the previous day.

“English ship can enter harbour now,” Li advised them. “As for buying tea, you say you need honest merchant who know about tea. I know everything about tea and I sell for decent price. But I must have my commission. We still have deal?”

“Yes, of course. We’re certainly grateful for what you’ve done already,” the Captain said. “Are the teas ready to buy yet? Can we arrange to see them?”

“Not much down from mountain yet. Take long time to get here. Best you wait one month. Then much to choose from. I help you then.”

“A month?” Mark exclaimed. “What will we do here in Canton for a whole month?”

“You better wait here today for ship to arrive, but tomorrow you come to my house. I have many different teas there. My women do tea ceremony for you, and you see what you like best. You come tomorrow afternoon?”

Mark looked at Captain Sharp who nodded.

“Yes, we can do that,” he replied. “Where do you live? How do we get there?”

“I live up river. Not far. Big house with red roof and white pillars. Everyone know it. You come at three o’clock. That good time for tea. I tell you history of tea. I best person in Canton to talk about tea.”

“Fine then,” Captain Sharp affirmed. “We will see you tomorrow, Mr. Li.”

They all bowed, and Marc and the captain turned and left the building. “Well, what do you think about that, Captain?” Marc asked. “You think Zang speaks the truth? We need a go between to get the tea, as well?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. These city merchants have it all figured out. They belong to a guild called the
Cohong,
supervised by the Imperial Officials, and we can’t do a thing without them. We’ll probably have to bribe the customs’ men something, as well. Well, let’s hope Mr. Li is as honest as he appears. He certainly got us out of trouble yesterday, so I’m willing to put my money on him now.”

Marc and the Captain had no trouble finding transportation to Mr. Li’s house the next afternoon. Everyone on the waterfront knew exactly where he lived. When they arrived at their destination, and the chair-bearer pointed out the house to them, the beauty of the structure amazed them. It was a three-story, tiered, white building with a red tile roof over each portion. The bottom floor was partly built on stilts over the water with a beautifully, pillared veranda overlooking the river. It was surrounded by graceful willow trees with branches spreading above the water. The top roof over the third floor was pagoda shaped with the same red tiles. Small birds floated on the river, once in awhile diving for food. An aura of peace and tranquility surrounded the house.

“No wonder Mr. Li seems so happy.” Marc gasped. “What a wonderful place to live!”

“He’s obviously successful and not particularly superstitious,” Captain Sharp agreed. “This must have been built by the Portuguese. Usually Oriental houses have green roofs to bring them luck. Well, it should be interesting. I’ve never been invited to a Chinese home before, but I think he likes you, Marc.”

“I think I like him.”

They rang the large bell on the front portico, and soon an obsequious servant ushered them into a simple, but stunning room. The floor was bamboo, covered in silk mats, and the furniture was of an uncomplicated but elegant style lacquered in black with gold designs. A low table was set with a brazier, five cups, and several teapots. The servant indicated they should wait while he went to tell his master.

Li Jang soon arrived with two slim, pretty women dressed in flowing, silk robes. Their shiny black hair was dressed stylishly and heavily lacquered. They minced along in a strange rocking gait, which drew Marc’s attention to their feet.

He was so shocked; he could hardly take his eyes off them. They were abnormally tiny and encased in neat, silk-covered shoes. He’d heard of the practice of feet binding but still could hardly believe what he saw. Although their movements were ungainly, the women had no trouble getting around on these miniature appendages.

Mr. Li introduced the older of the two women first. “This Number one wife,” he explained. She good woman but she no make children for me. So I take second wife.” He now turned to the younger woman who was exceptionally beautiful. Li Jang smiled appreciatively at her.

“Second wife give me three children. Two boys and one girl. Girl expensive to marry off but she is velly pretty. Her name is Li Ying. Means beautiful flower. You see?”

A servant ushered three little children into the room. The boys were about six and four and exact images of Li Jang. The little girl was held by a nurse and appeared to be not quite a year old. She was like her mother and looked like a little, china doll. Marc was glad to see that so far her tiny feet were not bound. Mr. Li noticed his appraising look.

“Emperor Kangxi allow foot binding now, but Jesuits do not like it. They say it barbaric. Emperor studies with Jesuits. He wants all people to listen about Jesus. I listen to Jesuits; and I think Jesus is velly good man. Maybe I become Christian. So I not bind little girl’s feet. But she grow up like Hakka woman with big, ugly feet. Maybe no one want her for wife.”

Captain Sharp appeared quite taken aback at Mr. Li sharing this information. However, he shook his head. “No, she will marry,” he reassured his host. “She’s already lovely.”

Mr. Li motioned the children out of the room then indicated his guests should sit at the table, the captain and Marc on one side and the two women beside him on the other.

The ceremony was impressive. The water was boiled in an iron kettle on an attractive ornamental brazier with different inscriptions and Chinese characters. Number One Wife carefully measured out the various types of tea leaves using a bamboo spoon and placed them into small teapots. Then Number Two Wife added the boiled water with much whisking and stirring. This whole process took some time. When it was finally ready, Number One wife poured it into the exquisite, tiny porcelain cups.

As the women performed the tea ceremony, Li Jang explained it in Portuguese. “My English not good enough to tell about tea ceremony,” he told them. Marc, in turn, translated it to the captain in English. In between the boiling and the brewing and the pouring, Mr. Li spoke poetically of the history of the Quing Dynasty and the life of Buddha whom, in spite of the Jesuits and his Christian leanings, he admired a great deal.

After it was over and the women bowed and minced out of the room, Jang turned to the two men. “I go next week to mountain to see about tea crop this year. I look for best tea to sell to my customers.”

“Where do you go, Mr. Li?” Marc inquired.

“Please, you call me Jang. We flends now.” He smiled at them, his black eyes twinkling. “I go to tall mountains in Fujian Province. Wu-li Mountain. Best tea grow there and so there are many, many factories. I go for one month and then I know which tea to sell you. Some good one year. Some good, other year. I never know until I try myself.”

“I’d like to go with you.” Marc said, and then looked at the captain. “If that’s all right with you, sir?”

“It’s fine with me. What about it, Jang?”

“Oh, velly dangerous trip. Mountain trails steep and narrow and full of snakes and bad monkeys. I don’t know if safe for you.”

“Still, I would like to go. I want to know all that I can about tea, Jang. I need to start by seeing where it grows.” After discussing the pros and cons for a while, Jang agreed Marc should go with him.

“Well, if you’re going to be gone a month, I’ll sail the ship over to Amoy, and get rid of this metal I have in the hold. Perhaps we can stop over in Macao, as well. It’ll give my crew a rest. They’ll like that,” Captain Sharp stated. “They aren’t allowed to mix with the women in Amoy, but in the area controlled by the Portuguese anything goes. It will keep them happy for the long trip home. But, Marc, I hope you know what you are getting into here. From what Jang tells us, it’s an extemely rough journey.”

“I’ll be fine, Captain. I’ve been idle long enough. I’m used to lots of exercise and adventure. I’ll be in good hands with my new friend to look after me.” He grinned at Jang who looked at him with a rather inscrutable smile.

“We see my young fliend. We see what kind of man you are.”