The Legacy of a Decapitated Head

The Legacy of the Decapitated Head

Flint was a boy stranded on the shores of a foreign empire that trapped him as a perpetual outsider in Canton, as the new emperor Qianlong carried his father’s legacy of determined to keep the foreign barbarians from entering the inner land of the Celestial Empire with an iron fist. He chose not to sit and be silent. 

“Why can’t you or your precious Company do porcelain business,” James Flint’s Chinese teacher complained. “That surely leads to less problems with transportation than tea.”

“We need Ningbo, Master Liu.” James Flint replied with annoyance. “Plus, have you not heard of Goteborg, so much commodity lost to the waves.” 

“You are going on a suicide mission,” his Chinese teacher scolded him. “You grow up in the Thirteen Factories, the furthest you went down is the Old and New China Street. You learned the language. But you do not comprehend this land and its rules. The emperor, Son of Heaven, reigns supreme. The late emperor’s father Kangxi, was tolerant towards the missionaries, he saw them as scholars. So when that fool Papal sent by another sect of your religious leader to stir up trouble by claiming the name of God ranked higher than the Son of Heaven, the Emperor was threatened. That fear of theirs against your people, it will lead you to your grave if you go on this mission.”

“But I am the only one who can embark on such a mission for the Company,” James Flint insisted with the bravery only a man of his talent could possess. “I alone am fluent in both speaking and writing Chinese. Our fellow British traders are demanded bribes and being overtaxed by that corrupt Hoppo. Do you expect me to do nothing? Ever since fourteen years ago The emperor introduced the system of limiting us to only being able to trade when someone is looking over our shoulders. Two years ago, the emperor introduced a policy barring all oversea ships from Chinese ports except here. What will come next? We’re already being backed into the corner. We need this petition to make commerce. Part of my petition asks for access to Ningbo, where we can find more silk and tea for Company. My petition is just to unveil the corrupted Hoppo and bring about more trade for EIC. It’s a good deed I’ll be doing, teacher.”

“YOU were part of the reason why the Emperor went hard on the ban in the first place! The single port commerce system exists because you and your East India Company colleagues dare to enter into Ningbo to trade. You snuck trade into Ningbo in 1955, now all the foreign merchants think they can do so. You think the Emperor will listen to you? ”

“Yes, teacher.” James Flint said, “But I did it in the name of good conscience. I did it for the good of the Company. I had nothing and no one since I was a boy, my only skill being my ability to speak the Chinese language like a native, be it Cantonese or Mandarin. We need not trade in the shadows if my petition gets the Emperor to grant us legitimacy in Ningbo. Unlike the rest of us, the one port system makes exceptions for damned Russians and Japanese to access ports that are not Canton.I am the only one who can fulfil this mission, not for myself or some kind of ego, but to ensure my family’s flourishment - that’s the East India Company.”

“You foolish man,” his Chinese teacher shook his head. “You might think yourself half Chinese as you grow up here, you have a long Chinese beard, and wear both Chinese and English clothes. But you have no idea how the Qing court functions. You will break the Qing dynasty’s court protocol by entering into the northern cities of the Celestial Empire as a foreigner. You think Hoppo is corrupt? From ancient Dynasties till now, every dynasty is built on corruption and bribery. That is nature to the land of Hua Xia. You are not just James Flint of the East India Trading Company. You are also my student, I gave you the name of 洪任輝, do you remember?”

“Yes, teacher.” James Flint cast his gaze down on the table. “洪 as a character relates to water, for I am the only translator who bridge between countries separated by the ocean. 任 is responsibility, I carry the burden of my company to make the emperor see reason. 輝 is glory, imagine me being the first foreigner to win over the emperor’s favour. I would help the British traders gain permanent advantage against the other traders - the Portuguese, the French, even the VOC. The Dutch might have introduced tea to Europe to the concept of tea, but the East India Company has a monopoly over tea trade. Only our British East Company possesses two whole factories all by ourselves. Having access to Ningbo will only further enhance our monopoly over the trade. I will fight to leave behind my Company’s livelihood thriving. ” 

“All you will leave behind for the Company is your own decapitated head,” his Chinese teacher mumbled. “You have the temperament of a donkey. I will help you draft the formal petition to the emperor.”

Flint set sail on a summer day morning in June of 1759. His heart was filled with anticipation as Success sailed for the port of Ningbo. As the wind blew his hair up in a curl, Flint felt his heart flew like a pigeon finally set free from a cage. Ningbo, the port city provides a great opportunity for the Company with its close access to silk and tea. The company was all he had, and all he had was the company. His teacher was right, Flint would most likely bring his decapitated head back than the favour of Qianlong, but it would be worth it. 

However, Ningbo officials were proven difficult to negotiate with.

“No, you cannot turn me away, I am on a mission to the emperor to petition on behalf of the East India Company.”

The officials stared at him despite Flint speaking fluent Mandarin. They were first surprised by the foreign looking man sporting the accent of a Chinese native, but soon they were reduced to whimpers and determined rejection. “You are a foreigner,” the officials say. “You belong in Canton. The Emperor decreed that no foreign vessel would port on Ningbo and we will not let you embark.”

“You can forward the petition to the Emperor in Beijing for me.” Flint pleaded, he knew he didn’t have much time left. He cannot return to Canton, not because of his ego or pride, but because nature does not allow him to back down from his mission. He cannot sail back south against the monsoon seasons, not until fall pushed summer away and turned the southwest flow in reverse direction. 

“Sorry,” one of the officials finally became impatient. “We can’t let a barbarian into the port of Nanjing. That is the emperor’s law. You cannot disobey just because you are a trader from afar.” 

The wheel of fate turned against Flint despite his pleading, nothing swayed the Ningbo officials. Disappointed, the man with big dreams became a man who started to dream walk. They sailed North, unsure where they’ll end up like a leaf in the wind.

Flint dreamed. He dreamed of the waves that crashed against the shores of Macau. He dreamed it rising above his knees and swallowing him whole. He woke up screaming. 

“I won’t let the Hoppo’s corruption tarnish the good trade of my Company,” he swore in the dark to himself. “Corruption like that will be punished by the Emperor, for that is just. I will also gain the Emperor's favour so he will let the Company trade in Ningbo. What I am doing is right, it is just. The Emperor will listen to the truth and reason. He will listen to me.”

He was special as much as he was ostracised. Never entirely English and never considered to be Chinese, no matter how well he spoke the language. That made him into a special blade. Flint knew that the Company did not give him all its attention because it values him as a son, but he was the only English-born translator on this foreign land, who would not be biassed towards the Chinese traders like the local translators.

After two more weeks of wandering up north with no peace in mind of where they were heading, the Success ported in the maritime gateway to Tianjin. It was July, the dryness of this terrain could lead a man to shed a layer of skin. Flint never encountered weather like this in Canton, where it is always moisturous no matter the temperature. 

A junk was sent towards Success bearing the news from another official, the same words telling him to be expelled from this port. Foreigners were not allowed to board any port, let alone one so near to Beijing, the Son of Heaven’s dragon seat. 

“Please,” Flint begged them. He would have kowtowed at this point to these officials. “I need to send my petition to the Empire, my people are being exploited by the Hoppo down in Canton. I just want to see justice for him to be punished.”

Maybe it was the severely hot weather, maybe it was the humiliation and defeat, Flint unconsciously left out his demand for access to Ningbo port, even though that was what the company demanded of him. He knew how averse the local port officials are to anything contrary directly with an Emperor's decree. To them, it was like defying a direct order from God Almighty. 

“Hmm,” the Tianjing official paused. That look on his face gave Flint hope. There was no stone-cold rejection, but something more akin to contemplation. 

“I’d do anything,” Flint added desperately, his voice cracking. “I’d…I’d even…”

His master’s words rang true to his ears like the tide of the monsoon seasons. A truth that shook Flint like an earthquake and made him see truth. 

“From ancient Dynasties till now, every dynasty is built on corruption and bribery.” 

“I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT. ANYTHING.” 

Flint roared like an animal. His voice became primal, the accent he brought across the ocean as a boy spoken in Mandarin twisted his words into almost gibbering noises. His teacher was right, Flint thought he knew this language, this land, but he never saw beyond the shores of Canton. He saw corruption and he wanted to correct it, he wanted to leave something behind that was good. 

That dream crumbled away like a sail in a storm. 

“Well,” the official stroked his beard that was long and smooth, Flint wonders if he felt an ounce of shame that he would cut that beard clean off his face since his depravity surely shamed his parents. “I can tell my colleagues you didn’t commit an offence against the Emperor's rule, that your ship is merely blown here due to foul weather, which isn’t entirely untrue.”

“Name a price,” as those words tumbled out of his mouth. Flint realised he was no better than the Hoppo or the officials. He could hear the washing of tides on distant shores. Those porcelain were buried with Goteborg shining like diamonds under the deep blue surface. His family, the East India Company, was nothing more than the Hoppo, or this official. James Flint was not of better stock than them. They were all driven by greed. Was it not Flint that craved the opening of the port of Ningbo? Was it not because he witnessed Ningbo’s abundance of fresh tea emitting the smell of potential and wealth that first drove his mind to this mad petition?

They were all the same. Each party is equally guilty. In a world that ran on commerce. Money was what did the talking, not Flint’s rare talent as a Englishmen translator who knew Chinese like his mother tongue, or his legendary rise from an orphan to the carrier of a grand mission. It has always been him who was desperate. Just like this official, who also wanted more taels. 

“5,000 taels and we’d call it a deal.” 

“That’s impossible,” Flint wailed. “We don’t have that kind of money on board. I am nothing but a messenger, I am no merchant.”

“Liar,” the official snickered. “I’ll give you a fortnight to think about it. It’s either that or you answer to the Emperor's law. A barbarian who dares enter a port so close to Beijing” 

In the end, Flint caved and gave the official 2,000 taels. His petition has finally found its way to the Emperor's hand in Beijing. 

Flint had never seen this part of the land of the vast Huaxia, he was pushed and probed with men, women, children and elders. In their eyes there was a fire burning, they knew he didn’t belong. He knew he didn’t belong. Neither here nor there.

The Buddhist temple he resided in gave Flint for the first time for months some time to reflect. The Company sent him to this death trap, a crouching tiger where dragons hide. The East India Company never cared for him as a person, even after being its humble servant for twenty years. 

The only person who ever saw him was his Chinese teacher, who wrote this petition for him. 

洪任輝, it was truly a name containing wish for a man with glory lies ahead in his future. A man who Flint was not. 

However, he learned 任, responsibility, in his Chinese name as he sat in his prison cell in the Portuguese colonies. Three years without a visit from his fellow Englishmen. The hoppo was investigated and disposed of, justice was served.

James Flint learned his lesson in the end. 

On the day James Flint was arrested, he was with his teacher. 

“Told you it wouldn’t end well.” His Chinese teacher shook his head as if chastising Flint for using the wrong Chinese character, “Do you know why the Emperor would never have granted your request? It’s the same reason why you and all you foreign traders are confined here at Canton, like a bunch of chickens in a pen. Because he is afraid, his father was afraid, his grandfather was not but learned to be afraid in the end. You ocean ghosts scares the Emperor, you scare me too. You and your beloved Company, you want so much - silk, tea, proclaim. But we want nothing from you other than silver. You are greedy and one day you will carve my homeland up for those things with all your ambition.”

“Then why help me in the first place, teacher?” Flint, a changed man, really did felt like a ghost of his former self. Eventhough the Qing Emperor haven’t officially done anything to him other than send him back to Canton. “Why give me a Chinese name when you think me a greedy barbarian.”

“I do not know James Flint,” the teacher’s eyes softened, just before there were voices that could be heard from outside the thin walls. “I only know 洪任輝. One day as a teacher, forever as a father.”

The door was blown open by Chinese men of the local authority, they dragged both Flint and his teacher away like dogs. Flint struggled but knew it was of no use, his teacher didn’t even move a finger. 

“I’m sorry,” Flint screamed to his teacher in Chinese through the chaos, “I’m sorry, Master Liu.” 

His teacher didn’t say anything as they took him away. The last instruction he left to his student was to keep quiet, because Liu Yabian knew that he would not be alive when that day’s sun went down in the west. But Flint’s life might still be spared. He could still have a good life oceans away on that island he was from.  

When they took Flint to the prison in the Portuguese colonies, they passed where his teacher’s head was hung. His eyes were not yet closed and blood still dripped from his veins.

Flint finally understood what Master Liu had been saying to him all along. The Qing Emperor did not want commerce, nothing Flint did mattered. 

He did not leave behind anything good other than a decapitated head. Except it was not his, but his beloved Master’s.