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It was a mystery to Robert. He was a twenty year old nobody, and the last place he wanted to be was inside Ward’s house in Shanghai. The mercenary general had decided to hold a victory celebration and invited Captain Patridge, who brought Robert, who had no idea why Patridge was paying so much attention to him. Maybe it was part of the captain’s nature to be friendly, which probably explained why he loved telling bad stories to a captive audience.
Like the French and English, the Americans had added on to Shanghai, but the American concession was closer to the old walled city where the fighting had taken place between the Imperial army and the Taipings. Most of Shanghai outside the old walls was a foreign city, not Chinese, and each country had put its cultural stamp on the architecture.
Ward’s house differed from the buildings Robert had seen in the American concession. It was one story with a Cape Code style roof, but it had round-edged, thick concrete walls with deep windows and doors. The house looked odd.
“Strange, isn’t it,” Patridge said. “Ward calls it his adobe Cape Cod hacienda. Because of the rainfall, a steep pitched roof was needed. The Pueblo Indians invented adobe houses, but it is supposed to have a flat roof. Ward says that adobe houses are made of mud and can be found in the American Southwest. Don’t engage him in a conversation on that topic. If you do, you will have to listen to his story about some American named William Walker, who invaded Mexico a few years back. Ward was an officer in this Walker’s army. From there he went to the Crimea to fight but resigned after a short time. The rumor is that he was insubordinate to a superior officer.”
After having seen Ward in action, it was easy for Robert to believe the rumor. In fact, he wanted to believe it because he did not like Ward.
Inside the house the rooms were long and deep with low, opened beam ceilings. There was an endless supply of food, whiskey and wine. The Chinese servants never stopped scurrying about with loaded trays. There were boxes with cigars and cigarettes, and the stench of thick tobacco smoke filled the place. Robert walked from room to room and saw the guests getting drunk. He listened to one conversation after another.
“The Asian whores in the French sector are of the highest quality,” one of Ward’s army officers said.
“I earned a thousand percent profit on the last cargo of silk I bought and shipped to Paris,” a merchant said in another conversation. “The Chinese have no idea what the European market will pay.”
“I had a similar experience with spices,” his companion replied. “And I know of a German who made a fortune selling Chinese antiques in America.”
The talk Robert heard soured his stomach. He lost any appetite he had for food. He didn’t belong here. They had no common interests—one example was the Chinese culture, which he found fascinating like the Greek and Roman cultures had fascinated him when he had studied them at college.
Chinese art, literature, philosophy and history set his curiosity on fire. It differed from any culture he’d known. The Chinese had been a literate society when the Greeks and Romans and all the rest of Europe were still running around wearing animal skins, and the Chinese kept their culture alive while the Roman Empire collapsed sending Europe through a thousand years of darkness. The oldest known dynasty in China was the Santai also called the Three Dynasties from two thousand years before Christ. To think that China had an unbroken civilization that went that far back inspired Robert to learn how they managed to hold things together.
Robert wanted to slip inside the skin of one of their famous scholars and know what he knew and experience what he’d felt. He wanted to do the same with one of their great generals now that he had tasted battle. After the fear and shock had bled away, it was an exhilarating experience to savor.
In this room were opium merchants and soldiers of fortune that looked down on the Chinese and laughed as they cheated them at every opportunity. They had no sense of the beauty here. Robert was disgusted and thought of them as the spoilers of the earth—the filth of life. They were not people he wanted to spend time with. It was as if he were a book of good literature lost in a sea of rotting decay.
He stayed alone off to the side. He wanted to return to Captain Patridge’s summerhouse and idle away the rest of the summer. He was finding that the women here were like works of lusty art, as if they had been bred for that purpose for thousands of years.
Robert remembered what William had told him about Chinese women shortly after he’d arrived a year ago. Among the so-called lower classes there were the common prostitutes; next the singsong girls, and last the high-class courtesans. Among these women virginity wasn’t something to value. They served a purpose—to entertain men.
However, women born into respectable families did not leave the home. Among these women chastity and virginity were prized and saved for their husbands, although the men still visited sing-song girls or courtesans with a wife’s knowledge if not her blessing.
A woman from the lower classes leaped the divide by becoming a concubine in a respectable family. The way to do it was to charm a well-to-do man until he couldn't live without them. The trick was all in the seduction.
“What are you doing standing here alone, Robert?” Captain Patridge said. “This is your chance to meet the rulers of Shanghai.” He nodded toward two Chinese men talking loudly with each other on the far side of the room. “The one with the droopy mustache is Hsueh Huan, the governor of Shanghai. The dark, swarthy man standing next to him that looks like a Filipino pirate is Boss Takee. The governor works for Takee and his partner, Wu Hsu. When I see Wu, I’ll point him out. Takee, by the way, also works for me.” He paused to study Robert, who wondered what the captain wanted from him. Robert wasn't sure if the man wanted friendship or something else. Patridge knew many important people so why add a low ranking interpreter to his group?
Robert had already overheard a conversation between Takee and another man, a Henry Burgevine from North Carolina. Burgevine was Ward’s second-in-command. He was a big man with a swollen, red face. Takee sounded like one of the pimps Robert had seen in Ulster.
“How much do you know about Jardine, Matheson & Company?” Patridge asked.
“I’ve heard how they managed to establish their business on the East India Company’s preserves by obtaining an appointment from the King of Prussia.”
“But you don’t know the details, do you?”
Robert shook his head.
“I’m going to tell you.”
Robert groaned mentally, but he didn’t reveal what he felt. He reminded himself that he knew what he had been getting into when he left Ningpo. Patridge’s prattle was preferable to roasting in a steam bath in Ningpo where the mosquitoes had been sucking him dry.
“In 1834, Dr. William Jardine sailed his ship, the Sarah, to London with a cargo of tea. Because of his appointment from the King of Prussia, the East India Company couldn’t do anything to stop him. With that bold move he demonstrated the East India Company was no longer a power in the East, and others copied him. It was too late for the copycats though. Jardine, on the other hand, was the first to do it successfully. He built a fortune shipping tea to England. On the return trips he smuggled opium into China.”
“I heard he died in 1843,” Robert said in an attempt to make conversation. “Did you ever meet him?”
“I met him in 1840. By then he was one of the richest and most powerful men in Britain, and his company is still growing and prospering. For that reason, I want you to meet Boss Takee. Your position in Ningpo may benefit him somehow.”
Robert didn’t know exactly what Patridge meant, but his curiosity got the better of him. He managed to keep his mouth shut and ears open. He understood that one should also learn from bad or distasteful experiences. This was another reason he’d joined Patridge’s fight against the Taipings—to experience something new even if it were dangerous.
Ward walked into the room. Concubines in bright colored silk dresses surrounded him. They were all taller than him. He was dressed in a red silk vest open at the front, which exposed his dark, hairy, muscular chest. His baggy trousers ballooned around his hips and legs like a cloud of black satin. A thick cigar bobbed in his mouth and smoke billowed from his nostrils like some western dragon looking for prey. In this image, Robert saw differences between Chinese culture and Western. In China the dragon was protective, friendly, a sign of good luck.
“Quiet!” Ward’s voice boomed. “I want everyone’s attention. Clear the center of the room. It’s time for some singsong girls to dance for us.” One of his concubines slipped both of her hands inside his vest and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. Ward listened with a growing smile and burst out laughing. Robert did not approve of the man’s behavior.
The men crowding the room drifted toward the sides, where servants and concubines with painted faces waited.
Captain Patridge walked into the middle of the room. “I’m presenting you with a special entertainment. The three dancers are Ayaou, Precious-Jade; Shao-mei, Little Plum Flower, and Lan, Orchid.”
Hearing the name Ayaou caught Robert’s attention. He was no longer bored. Was this the same boat girl he’d saved? It surprised him to hear that she was a singsong girl. He thought she was part of a family. Did singsong girls have families? He didn’t know what to think, because he didn’t know exactly what a singsong girl was. However, he did recall that she had looked like a boy when he first saw her. She probably wouldn’t be that attractive. Then he remembered her smile in the boat right after the battle with the Taipings. When she had smiled, his first impression had changed.
Patridge nodded toward a bearded, older man in a knee length gray cotton dress holding a stringed instrument called an Erhu. It was the Chinese version of a violin. With him was a boy who was playing an instrument called a Yang-Chin, the equivalent of a Chinese piano except it was played with a pair of chopsticks that had cushioned tips.
Robert recognized the old man as Ayaou’s father, the sick-looking boatman Ayaou had defended so fiercely inside the stockade. He was the same man Robert had carried to safety.
“This is Chou Luk,” Patridge said. “The dancers are his daughters.”
“Dance called Great Gobi Goddesses,” Chou Luk said in heavily accented English. “It traditional folk dance created in Ming Dynasty. My daughters are proper age. I want you to know that I am open to offers.” He smiled and all the lines on his face twisted. It was a nasty expression.
Offers. What kind of offers? Robert was shocked and disgusted at what he suspected.
“Chou Luk is a valuable employee of mine” Patridge added. “These three beautiful young women will make excellent concubines. Chou Luk assures me they’ve been taught how to pleasure a man and are certified virgins.”
Robert couldn’t believe what he’d just heard—that a father would do this to his daughters. What an evil man! It was beyond comprehension. What must the daughters feel? Maybe it was something to do with this culture. Though it appalled him, Robert still wanted to understand.
At the time Robert didn’t realize that if Chou Luk sold his girls and they became concubines, even to foreign devils, that was a move up from a boat girl or a singsong girl. Most boat girls had little choice. The chance for a boat girl to become a concubine in a respectable family was almost nonexistent. Another way to escape the life of a boat person was to become a prostitute. Chou Luk was doing his best to make life better for his girls and possibly for himself too. If he gained a son-in-law, who respected him and took care of him in his old age, he improved his life.
Chou Luk began to play the Erhu. All the men in the room leaned forward—the lust and greed hot in their eyes. Robert was ashamed to feel the same, so he suppressed his desires.
Three women drifted sensually into the room. It was impossible not to lust after them. Robert’s eyes fastened on the tallest, Ayaou. It was the same face he’d seen in battle but everything else had changed. What shocked him the most was that the girls didn’t look offended. The way they looked at their father said they loved him.
All three girls were dressed in scanty midriff blouses of the same color with black silk pants. The dancers narrow waists showed off their developing hips. The two younger girls were still without breasts, but Ayaou had developed a full set. Her nipples under the red silk blouse were almost visible. Ayaou and her sisters glided through the intricate dance. Their hands expressed meaning while exotic movements advertised their bodies.
Chou Luk and his partner played beautiful and heavenly music, while the dancers told their story with graceful arm movements. Robert was sure that the sisters had been instructed to smile because their smiles were stiff. As they moved, the room full of aroused men observed without shame.
He thought Ayaou recognized him, but she went on dancing without hesitation. She was naturally graceful. Her sisters were not. Robert thought that he detected a look of obvious dislike for what she was doing. This attracted him to her more. He wondered if she had danced for men like this before. He didn’t know why, but he hoped this was the first time.
He couldn’t take his eyes off Ayaou’s nut-brown skin. The music grew louder. The dreamy look in Ayaou’s eyes changed. It was as if she’d been caught in a spell. Her bosom bounced as she performed the motions of rising and falling to illustrate ocean waves. To Robert she was transformed into a goddess free of the men drooling over her. He imagined her moving gracefully and innocently through a world of wild passion while avoiding the dangers.
As the dance ended, the sisters joined hands. The two younger sisters hummed as Ayaou started to sing. Robert was surprised that her voice wasn’t scratchy like other Chinese singers he’d heard. It was soft and melodious. The tone of her voice put feeling into the words that built images in his mind of lovers walking through a grove of trees that swayed rhythmically with the wind. He struggled to understand the words but barely succeeded. It was something like life is like dew on a leaf.
The song ended. Shao-mei and Lan ran from the room like mice chased by a cat. Robert noticed Ward staring at Ayaou. He didn’t like what he saw in the American’s eyes. Ayaou looked in Robert’s direction. Their eyes met. She gave him a dirty look as if she could’ve spit on his face. He stopped breathing and felt dizzy. Why? He’d saved her family. He thought it couldn’t be him, so he turned to see who was behind him. There was no one. Confused, he turned back and saw she was smiling as if taking pleasure in tricking him. His heart beat faster, and he breathed again.
“One more song!” Ward called, and Chou Luk complied. Without hesitation, when the music played, Ayaou started to dance. Robert’s mind ordered him to talk to Ayaou. He moved toward the door where the younger sisters had escaped. Slipping through the opening, he stepped into another room. He hoped that she’d exit this way toward the walled garden, which occupied several acres planted with flowering plants and trees.
The air was thick with foul odors from vomit, spilled liquor and cigar smoke. It was difficult to breathe. Robert was dripping with sweat. Wanting to stay sober, he poured the rest of his wine into a crack in the tiled floor.
For a moment, he thought of leaving without attempting to talk to her. Then he remembered Ayaou’s defiance in the face of death. Her contrasting smile full of life and energy kept sneaking back into his head. So he stayed and continued to watch. He wanted to meet this girl who’d fought beside him. He was afraid it might not happen.
About a third of the men had already left the room with some of the painted whores. Robert looked around at those that remained and saw Ward, Patridge and Boss Takee. They were all looking at the same girl, Ayaou. Robert wondered what price her father was asking. The greed in Chou Luk’s eyes warned Robert that the old man was going to squeeze every yuan he could out of the winner. This wasn’t going to be easy, and that frightened Robert. He had to have her. It didn't matter what he had to do.
When Ayaou started to leave, Robert stepped into the shadows. The soft scent of exotic spices signaled her passing. He followed. When she went through the door and entered the garden, he made his presence known by clearing his throat.
She reacted as if she’d been expecting him. They stared into each other’s eyes—both nervous. Robert touched her arm with his fingertips. When his fingers made contact, she looked away and examined the garden as if seeing it for the first time. Was she here to meet her lover? After all, she was every man’s dream. Stepping away without warning, she led the way into the garden. He followed. Soon they were lost in the darkness.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I wanted to see you.” He stammered and was relieved that the words found their way out of the prison that his mouth had become. She made him feel so alive that he wanted to climb the nearest building and fly off the roof. Thank heaven the moon was full and bright tonight so he could see her clearly. Her dark eyes with their long lashes studied him. He could not fill his lungs. It was like someone had tied a rope around his chest constricting his ability to breathe. He found it difficult to believe this girl had stood by his side in battle without fear.
“How old are you?” he asked, wanting to start a conversation.
“How old are you?” She shot back.
“Twenty,” he said, and waited for her answer.
“Sixteen.”
“By the way, I haven’t told you my last name. It is Hart—Robert Hart. I’m Irish.”
“That still makes you a foreign devil!” She mocked.
“Sure, you’re right,” he said, gathering his courage to continue. “But does that mean I can’t talk to you?”
“Meet me in the root cellar,” she said quickly.
His insides fluttered and jumped.
“You haven’t had much to drink,” she said, as if she had to let Robert know her feelings. “I also saw that you were staying away from the others. Don’t you like them?”
“No,” he replied, and was glad she had noticed.
“That’s good,” she said. “Wait a moment after I leave, and then go through the kitchen. You’ll find a wood hatch that blends with the floor beside the back door. It’s dark there. You will have to feel for the recessed iron ring that will allow you to pull it open. The stairs are narrow and steep so be careful. Make sure no one sees you.”
When she pulled away, their arms touched. A sweet electric shock raced throughout his body. She hesitated like a startled doe and glanced back at him, which told him she too had felt the electricity pass between them. She disappeared.
It took an effort to walk back inside the house and glance into the main room. Ward, Patridge, Takee and two others were standing close to Chou Luk. Ward said something to Chou Luk. Takee scowled, shook his head, reached behind him and grabbed the hand of one of the painted whores and dragged her from the room.
They had to be talking about Ayaou’s price. This alarmed Robert. He moved closer to eavesdrop.
Chou Luk said, “I am open to offers until noon tomorrow. The man that offers the most will have Ayaou for his concubine.”
“And she is a virgin?” Ward said.
“Yes,” Chou Luk replied.
“She better be.” Ward left with his woman.
Robert was glad that he still had time to find enough money to win. If he entered the bidding war now, he could not beat the others. These were men who did not like to lose. Robert decided to wait until noon the next day to top the highest bidder. If he did that, he felt he had a chance. To get Ayaou he had to be tricky. Robert turned and walked through the kitchen thinking that if he’d never met Patridge, he wouldn’t have seen Ayaou dance or hear her sing.
Once Robert was by the back door, he searched the floor for the wooden hatch, but the light was too gloomy. He had to get down on his hands and knees and feel for the iron pull ring. When he couldn’t find it, he worried that it wasn’t there—that she’d lied to him and wasn’t waiting. Then his fingers touched the ring. He pulled.
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