Boon Leong took the leather armchair behind the desk, poured out two cups of coffee and pushed one towards Tuck Heng.
“I will come straight to the point,” he began tersely in Hokkien.
A glance from him made Boon Leong stop. Conscious that he’d made a mistake, Boon Leong gave a thin smile.
“Kor, we’re concerned about your case,” he began again. “Not just me but all of us, family and community.” Boon Leong’s voice was low and less officious this time round. “The elders are meeting here in two days’ time to prepare for the government inquiry next week.”
Tuck Heng sat up stiffly, wary of what he was about to hear. He tried to make out the expression on Boon Leong’s face, which was in the half-shadows for the room had only one window looking out into the courtyard.
“Who called for the meeting?”
“I suggested it.”
“Who’s coming?”
“All the clan and kongsi leaders, representatives of the Straits Chinese British Association and even the members of the Emperor Protection League Society.”
“You invited those bastards? Those lapdogs supported the emperor!”
“Please, Kor! This isn’t the time to quarrel among ourselves. We must speak with one voice before the governor.”
“Since you know the governor, you speak to him! Some people have two mouths! One mouth says this. Another says that!”
He had always been blunt. Let the lawyer be careful with his words. He reached for his cup and took a loud satisfied sip of the fragrant Malaccan coffee.
Boon Leong compressed his lips and looked out at his prized roses in the courtyard. He had expected this. His good relations with the English had always aroused Tuck Heng’s envy. But he was prepared to be patient with China-born like him. His half-brother had always struck him as rather churlish, without the civilised graces and objectivity of an educated man. He recalled his late mother saying that it had to do with his years in the tin mines and mixing with the crude miners.
“I can assure you that this governor’s more willing to listen than the previous one. At least he released you on bail.”
“Don’t talk to me about the old governor. That buzzard supported the imperial reformist bastards.”
“Sir John Anderson is a very strict man. He didn’t hesitate when he had to apply Clause Four of the 1888 Banishment Ordinance.”
“What clause, what ordinance, I don’t know. But this I do know! That foreign devil hauled Dr Sun into his office one day. Ordered Dr Sun, a Chinese, not to interfere in Chinese politics! What kind of shit is that? Can these foreigners honestly say they didn’t interfere in China’s politics? Wait, wait. Don’t tell me.” He held up his hand.
“Let me tell you! Against the will of every thinking Chinese, they supported a court we hated. So they could gain from China’s weakness! Can’t you see through their cunning? You, a cunning lawyer yourself!”
Boon Leong refused to be baited. Dr Sun Yat-sen’s case was well-known throughout Malaya. In 1908, Sir John Anderson had threatened to expel Dr Sun. The editors of several Chinese language newspapers were also severely warned. They would be banished under the Straits Settlements Societies Ordinance if they published articles advocating intrigue or sedition against the Manchu government. Two years later, the governor had ordered Dr Sun to leave Penang. According to the English language press he had made “inflammatory speeches to incite his coolie audiences to overthrow the Man-chu regime”.
“I’ll be plain with you, Kor. This new governor will listen. Up to a point. But he’s not going to be all that different from the previous one. The English government doesn’t want people living here to be involved in politics. If the commission of inquiry finds that the riots were started because of politics, then there’ll be big trouble for you. You’ll be deported. Your family might suffer the same fate.”
Tuck Heng was silent for some time. Caution restrained him now. He was not unaware of the dangers that Boon Leong had pointed out and he appreciated his brother’s bluntness. But his brother was also part of the English-speaking Chinese in the colony and such persons, in his view, were ultimately the lackeys who served the interests of the English barbarians. He said nothing.
“Next week, many leaders of our community will be called before the commission of inquiry. The governor wants to hear their views and seek their advice. Now, some of us have thought of a plan to help you.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Father adopted you. Like it or not, we’re family. Then some leaders also want me to speak unofficially to the governor.”
Tuck Heng’s brows drew together. His eyes behind their wire-rimmed glasses narrowed.
“Why?” he asked.
“The clan leaders are anxious. Worried that the riots have put the Chinese people in a bad light. They don’t want the government to ... to suspect them of doing anything wrong. Good relations with the government ... good for trade ... good for all Chinese living here, right or not?” Boon Leong struggled with his Hokkien.
“What did you and the others plan to do?”
“Very simple. Make sure ... make sure that the authorities see you as a respectable merchant. Not a leader of coolies and gangsters. So don’t tell the commission... don’t say that you’re an elder of the White Crane.”
“But they will ask.”
“Tell them ... say that you’ve left the society. That you joined it when you were young. But you’re no longer with the society.”
“Why say that?”
“You’ve got to show that you ... you’re a leader. Of traders and merchants. Not coolies. Then the government will respect you.”
“But I was in the White Crane hall.”
“Just say you were the guest of honour that day. Tell the commission that unruly coolies and gangsters took advantage of the New Year celebrations and started the fighting and looting. Not your speech.”
Tuck Heng baulked at “gangsters” and said so.
“Say coolies then. No difference to me. Say that you and other leaders tried to stop the violence but could not. Then before you finish, remember to tell the governor that you, er, you appreciate the way that the government and the police have handled the situation. And you, er, you appreciate the freedom and peace here. Say you’re loyal to the English king. The other leaders will support you.”
Tuck Heng couldn’t take his eyes off his brother’s face. What a piece of shit, he thought. This twisting and turning to stab others in the back. How typical of Boon Leong to speak with a forked tongue!
“So! Actual events are not important. Truth is not important. To save their own skins, the clan leaders have agreed to lie.”
Boon Leong’s eyes had a glint of triumph when he said, “They’ve given me their word to support you.”
“What good is their word? They’re also elders in the White Crane! Like me! We’ve taken the blood oath.”
“I’m aware of that, Kor.”
“I’ve sworn loyalty to my White Crane brothers. I am part of the White Crane!”
“I know that too. But you’ve got to think of yourself and your family.”
“So you want me to lie?”
“Why’re you making a fuss? All China-borns lie when they see a policeman, right or not?”
The eyes before him held something like amused contempt. He noted the well-groomed hair, the fashionable white shirt and white trousers and the expensive black leather shoes which completed the attire of the English-educated Straits-born gentleman. Long-suppressed feelings of having been slighted, despised and scorned as a lower species of the human race stirred in his heart once again.
“So that’s what you think of us, eh? You and the English bastards! That we lie whenever we open our mouths? You think that coolies are dirt! And you want me to blame everything on them!”
“Calm down.”
“No, Brother! You look down on us, the China-born! Because we poor sods came over here packed like pigs in coolie ships! But I tell you, Brother, that from these pigs, you get traders, merchants, shopkeepers. And you’re right! Lowdown coolies too! Thousands and thousands of them. But without them, who’ll mine your tin? Pull your rickshaws? Build your houses? Grow your food? These pigs slog in the sun so that you and I can live in the shade! Let me tell you more! They’re not the only pigs who come to Malaya. Among the pigs are newspaper editors, reporters, teachers, letter writers, clerks, herbalists and physicians! Thinking literate people like you! These are the people the governor wants to deport! Because they can rally the coolies.”
Once he had started, he could not stop. His Hokkien speech was fluent, fluid and fiery like a native of Fujian Province and that was his advantage. He was in his element and if Boon Leong had tried to parry his words, he’d have reduced him to a hen floundering in water.
“Coolies have become towkays and have founded newspapers, schools and reading rooms, temples and hospitals all over this Malay land! Coolies have parted with their hardearned dollars to help their homeland! Coolies have fought against Manchu rule for generations! The uprising in Kwangtung last year claimed seventy-two martyrs. Do you know that thirteen of them are coolies from this country? They shed their blood to free us and you want me to call them gangsters and ignorant bastards before the foreign devils?”
An uneasy silence followed. Then Boon Leong put his hands together in a deliberate gesture of mock applause. Clap! Clap! Clap! A hard light had come into his eyes and the words which came were slow and measured as if he wanted to make sure that their significance sank in.
“It’s very noble of you to think so highly of others, Kor. I applaud you and I’m humbled by what you said. But I hope you will think again. This government does not regard the riots lightly. If the inquiry thinks you’ve broken the law, the authorities will banish and deport you and confiscate all your properties.”
“I know that. Each man’s deed is each man’s load.”
“Well said. But one man’s deed is also many men’s trouble.”
Boon Leong reached for the small bell on his desk and rang it. Moments later, the rest of the family entered.
One by one, they came into the room and studiously avoided his questioning eyes. They sat on chairs placed round the room, eyes downcast. Lai Fong sat between her two daughters and held their hands. They looked uncomfortable. Seng sat next to his mother and handed her a handkerchief. Choon looked as if she would burst into tears soon. Kok Kiong was the only one who appeared untouched.
“What’s this?” He turned to Boon Leong.
“I think the family might help you to see things more clearly.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Whether you like it or not, Kor, your decision is going to affect all of us. Your wives and your children. My wife and my children. And my two brothers’ families too. Boon Haw and Boon Pin have wives and children too. Their daughters are of a marriageable age and I’ve heard from Second Sister-in-law,” Boon Leong nodded in Lai Fong’s direction, “that your eldest daughter, Yoke Foong, is already betrothed to the son of a very good family in Ipoh. Boon Haw’s daughter is betrothed too. How will your imprisonment and deportation affect them? Boon Pin has a son in government service. My son, James, and your son, Kok Seng, are going to England to study law soon. Your action will affect their future. Your other son, Kok Kiong, is a fine young man. But if you’re deported, he’ll have to bear the burden of being head of your Ipoh family. Is he ready?”
Tuck Heng did not answer him but turned instead to gaze at the roses in the courtyard. Most of the blooms were fading like much of his idealism, he thought. He knew that his family was waiting for him to speak, but what could he say to them? His tangled feelings and memories were pressing upon him and the constriction in his throat would not go away. He had been young when he had had to bear the consequences of his father’s single rebellious act. And the result? His father beheaded. His home torched. His mother, brothers and sisters burned to death. His life destroyed. What good came out of his father’s sacrifice? Nothing. His father became a hero, it was true. But at what cost to himself and his family? As a boy fleeing the Manchu sword, he had turned against his father in his heart and condemned his father’s act more than once, blaming him for all that he had lost. Was this what he wanted to bequeath his children?
Boon Leong waited patiently. This was not the moment to hurry a man. Years of legal work had given him an unerring sense of timing, of sniffing out the moment before a man caved in to spring his questions. He watched and waited. Then he leaned forward. His eyes held the other’s with a piercing gaze.
“Kor, we all want to do the right thing. But what is the right thing?”
He waited for the question to sink in like a grain of sand dropped gently into a well. Its light weight buoyed by the body of water. When he spoke again, choosing his words carefully, almost as though he was debating with himself aloud, his voice had a quiet insistence which was difficult to ignore.
“Who comes first? Our family? Or people outside our family? If you’re deported and separated from your wives and children, do you think they can depend on strangers for help? Then there’re our ancestors. Will their spirits be at peace? And what about your land and properties? All that you’ve worked for will be lost. Have you thought about that?”
Boon Leong’s low grave voice sounded reasonable, patient even, for he was not forcing his listener to accept his views. This was important for the shrewd lawyer knew that Tuck Heng would never let himself be pushed. He glanced at the others and it struck him that the Ongs and Wongs were a fragmented lot. Not everyone had understood what he said. Kok Seng was translating his words into Cantonese.
He nodded in Kok Seng’s direction to mark his approval and encouragement. He had always treated his nephew as one of his sons and was pleased when the young man chose to join the legal profession instead of his father’s business.
“Even if you think your wives and children are willing to leave Malaya with you, are you very, very sure that you will have a good life in China? Don’t forget there’s still fighting going on in many provinces even though China is now a republic. Let’s say, for the sake of our discussion here, you go back to China alone and your family remains here. Are Kok Seng and Kok Kiong ready to take over your business, tin mines and shops?”
A long pause during which Tuck Heng cast his eyes round the room, looking at each face, waiting, fearful, their eyes avoided his gaze. No one else spoke.
Boon Leong continued, “Let’s say, you think they’re old enough or able enough to shoulder the burden, there’s still another consideration. One which is beyond yourself and your family.” Boon Leong’s grave but insistent voice droned in his ears.
“In law, every act has a consequence. You do something, something else will follow. If you, a towkay, gets deported because of politics then you set ... er ... a precedent.” He paused and struggled to find its equivalent in the Hokkien dialect. “It’s, er, it’s like throwing a rock impulsively into the pool, without thinking, and that first rock will cause many ripples in the calm pool. Think of your friends and associates, Kor. Which one among them is not involved in China’s politics? Secretly or openly. And all have families and businesses to protect. Are you going to sacrifice your friends, associates and family because you can’t be a blade of grass and bend a little?”
He waited for the question to sink in before going on.
“I know it’s a matter of personal honour. But this whole affair might make the English government question the loyalty of every Chinese living under the British flag. Now I can tell you’re a practical man. A man of the world. A man of business. And you know that poor relations with the government will affect the lives of all Chinese living here, towkays and coolies alike. If the towkays do poorly, won’t the coolies suffer too? So please think again, Kor.”
Boon Leong had prepared his speech and his questions well and he delivered them flawlessly. Every possible lever was being used to sway Tuck Heng to his point of view.
“You do the honourable thing and sacrifice yourself and your family, but the world remembers one day and forgets the next. Your family, my family, on the other hand, will have to live with the result of what you do. So what you choose to do will affect us all.”
There was a pause as though the very thought of that had overwhelmed him. Then he went on, “If you accept full responsibility for the riot, are you so sure that it will not be useless? Are you a hundred per cent sure that one man can save those coolies from deportation?”
Boon Leong’s eyes went round the room and looked at each face in turn, drawing each member of the family to himself and his cause with the assurance of a man who knew that he already had their support.
“Let me explain to you some of the English laws here. Seng, you’ll have to explain what I’m going to say to your father and the others. I’ll have to use English when I talk about the law.”
Kok Seng nodded. He was honoured by his uncle’s inclusion of him in the attempt to make his father come to his senses, as his mother had described it.
“Explain to your father that the government has a number of laws at its disposal to control the Chinese in Malaya. A Chinese can be deported and sent back to China under the Banishment Act of 1888 or the Secret Society Ordinance. Appeals are useless in such cases. If the government thinks you’re a troublemaker, you’ll be sent back to China. Like any criminal. Besides these two laws, the government has another law—ius sanguinis, the law of blood. Under this law, a Chinese is a son of China and he can be repatriated to China if the government doesn’t want him here. It doesn’t matter whether he is born or has ever set foot in China.”
Kok Seng did his best to explain what his uncle had said and a profound silence settled on the room as he spoke. His Cantonese was terse.
Tuck Heng sat rigidly in his chair. A thin blue vein throbbed at his right temple as he listened. He sat for a long time and said not a word after Kok Seng had finished. The others shifted uneasily in their seats as the full weight of English law descended upon them.
Then Kok Kiong stood up as though he refused to be weighed down by the foreign devil’s laws. “Father,” he said.
Tuck Heng turned to him.
“I don’t understand all that Uncle said. But I’m not afraid of returning to China. Our young republic needs her youth.”
His eyes were bright and he spoke in Mandarin, the national language of the new China.
“Sit down, Kok Kiong. When it concerns you, we’ll talk about you. Right now it concerns me!”
Kok Kiong sat down. The light and colour had drained from his face. He did not look up or speak to his father again.
Then his younger sister, Yoke Lan, stood up. She strode deliberately across the room and took the seat next to her brother. Her bold support for Kok Kiong was not lost on the rest. Yoke Foong, meanwhile, burst into tears, fearful of losing her chance to make a good match. Lai Fong patted her daughter’s hand. Her lips were pursed in a way Tuck Heng knew from habit showed she was angry with him.
“Seng, what about you?” Tuck Heng turned to the Penang branch of his family.
Kok Seng knew that he was being called to take a stand. He summoned his courage and spoke for his mother and sisters as well.
“Father, you’ve our respect and we’re mindful of your difficulties. But my sisters and I are born here. We don’t want to live in China.”