Free Shanghai by David Rotenberg

bannerman’s eyes was totally justified. Then the surgeon yanked the cartilage of his broken nose back into place and the pain that rocketed through his body removed any sentimental feeling Maxi had for the bannerman, the man’s children, if he had any, or the lowliest beast of burden in the Middle Kingdom.
    * * *
    FOUR FULL DECKS ABOVE Maxi, in the Captain’s well-appointed quarters, Gough reported on the securing of Shanghai to Governor General Pottinger, who was perched like an old owl over a table covered with river charts.
    â€œWe’ll leave a battle frigate in this harbour and send another back to here,” Pottinger stated, pointing to the mouth of the Yangtze by the village of Woosung.
    That made sense to Gough, and he nodded.
    â€œGlad you agree, Admiral,” Pottinger said, then added, “I want the commander of the frigates to be instructed to intercept and sink any and all Chinese vessels heading up or down the river.” He lifted his head from the charts.
    â€œA blockade, sir?” Gough asked incredulously.
    â€œYes. That’s the word I’ve been searching for. A blockade.” Pottinger seemed to be tasting the word. He smiled, an ugly thing to witness as it exposed the diminutive creature’s rotted front teeth. Then Queen Victoria’s appointed man in China mumbled something unintelligible and abruptly left the cabin.
    For a moment Gough didn’t know what to do, then he raced after Pottinger and managed to corner theGovernor General on the forecastle deck. “I have misgivings about a full blockade, sir.”
    Pottinger turned to Gough and a quizzical look crossed his surprisingly large facial features. “Are you questioning my command, Admiral?”
    â€œNo, sir. But why can we not allow trade in common goods to continue?”
    Her Majesty’s representative in China drew himself up to his full five-foot, four-inch height and said, in his fulsome Oxford lisp, “We will take no half measures, my good sir. We have come to this God-forsaken place to accomplish a task, and nothing, nothing, will stand in the way of our endeavour. Our period of operations is limited. The government and people of England look to me for decisive results. We will let the monkey emperor see that we have the means, and are prepared to exert them, of increasing pressure on his damnable country to an unbearable degree.” A small smile creased his glistening lips. “Once the armada is fully on the river we will stop and loot every Chinese vessel we come across. Is that clear?”
    Gough understood the advantage of raiding Chinese coal vessels to take the coal for their own steamers, but why all the vessels? And had the Queen’s representative in China really legitimized looting? Finally he said, “We want to trade with the Chinese, not starve them to death.” He added the word sir just in time to avoid a formal reprimand.
    Pottinger thought about that for a moment, then replied, “A few starving Chinamen might prove advan-tageous—very advantageous.”

chapter nine
A Vrassoon at Bedlam
    London December 1841
    The Vrassoon Patriarch signalled for the matron to take the beautiful madwoman from his arms. “Gently, gently now,” he cooed after her as the matron took her and marched her back across the room.
    The beautiful madwoman broke free and ran back to Eliazar, clutching at his arm. “Will you dance with me?”
    â€œSurely. Surely I will dance with you,” he said, removing her nailless fingers from his coat and turning her to face the matron once again. “Be gentle with her. She’s not dangerous.”
    The matron ignored him and yanked the bedraggled creature by the fleshy part of her upper arm. Two stalwartguards stepped forward and reaffixed the buckles and belts of her outer restraining garment.
    Vrassoon looked away. He wanted to wash his hands, but not while she could see him. He owed her that, at