The dispute centers around Dejection Island a tiny speck of land in the South China Sea. Britain owns it but wants to get rid of it; China wants it; but the Americans are
determined not to let the British give it away.
Peter Holroyd lives a comfortable but lonely academic life, specializing in Ming and Qing Dynasty maritime voyages and cartography and is asked to determine if any sovereignty claims predate the planting of Britain’s flag on the island, which will allow Britain to make a smooth exit.
As Holroyd begins his search for evidence, accompanied by a beautiful Chinese assistant, he soon realizes this is no idle academic exercise. The deeper he goes into the past, the more convoluted his present becomes, leading Holroyd to wonder whose future is in greater peril, the residents of Dejection Island or his own.
The dispute centers around Dejection Island a tiny speck of land in the South China Sea. Britain owns it but wants to get rid of it; China wants it; but the Americans are
determined not to let the British give it away.
Peter Holroyd lives a comfortable but lonely academic life, specializing in Ming and Qing Dynasty maritime voyages and cartography and is asked to determine if any sovereignty claims predate the planting of Britain’s flag on the island, which will allow Britain to make a smooth exit.
As Holroyd begins his search for evidence, accompanied by a beautiful Chinese assistant, he soon realizes this is no idle academic exercise. The deeper he goes into the past, the more convoluted his present becomes, leading Holroyd to wonder whose future is in greater peril, the residents of Dejection Island or his own.
Peter Holroyd, Professor of Maritime History specializing
in Ming and Qing Dynasty voyages, looked
over the front page of his newspaper as he sipped a cup
of tea. He noted coverage of the latest political activities,
scandals, environmental disasters, and the horrors of
another defeat in international soccer. A small item near
the bottom of the page reported the presence of Chinese
warships in the South China Sea. Nothing for him to get
excited about. Professor Holroyd’s field was China in the
1400s and 1600s, not the 21st Century. He put the newspaper
aside and returned to reading grad student papers,
sipping tea, and savoring warm toast thickly spread with
creamy butter and marmalade.
Peter’s world was an academic world, a quiet world,
and ever since the accidental death of his wife and
teenage daughter, a lonely world.
Over at Whitehall though, people were getting
excited. The phrase “Gunboat diplomacy” was resurrected
in whispers. Secure electronic channels were
humming. Doors were being closed. Phone calls were
being made. Even the tea lady found herself and her
trolley hustled out into the corridor. The hive had come
alive with its special dance.
“The foreign secretary is calling, sir.”
“Put him through.” Holding the receiver in his left
hand, the prime minister of the United Kingdom put
down the cabinet paper he had been reading on a bill to
limit immigration from the former British colonies and
leaned back in his chair. What could not wait, he wondered,
that would prompt his foreign secretary to call?
Something unwelcome, no doubt. He waited, resigned
to yet another distracting issue, as if the continuing fallouts
of Brexit and illegal immigration weren’t enough,
not to mention tomorrow’s likely contentious question
period.
“Sorry, to interrupt you, Prime Minister, but we
might have a situation developing. We just got a call from
the governor of Dejection Island. He reports a Chinese
naval force patrolling offshore.”
“Dejection Island? Where and what is that?”
“A tiny island in the South China Sea that belongs
to us.”
“Never heard of it!” The prime minister rubbed the
bridge of his nose, once again thinking he should have
his spectacle frames replaced.
“Few people have,” the foreign secretary continued
“From what I’ve been told, we acquired it by one of
those accidents of history, but no one quite knows why
we ever bothered to hold on to it.”
“So, what’s the problem, and what do you advise?”
The PM leaned over, grabbed a cigarette, and lit it. He
inhaled deeply, enjoying the flavour but wondering once
again how to hide this act of defiance from his wife. That
woman has the nose of a bloodhound!
“We don’t quite yet know what the reason is behind
the presence of those ships, but possibly they’re there
because now the Chinese want it. Given the proximity
of the naval force, they may just take it. I thought I’d give
you a heads-up.”
“Want it? Why now?”
“We’re trying to find out, but it may have something
to do with the Arbitration Court’s decision that the
Chinese have no claim to the whole South China Sea.”
“Yes, quite right, but is there going to be a problem
for us?”
“One never knows with the Chinese. They’re still
miffed about the Opium Wars.”
“I see. Do you think we need to take any immediate
action? And if so, what would an appropriate one be?”
“Not ready to suggest anything right now. We could
not, for instance, send the Navy out, because it’s too
far away, and given the situation out there, any ships
of ours might cause alarm in what is already a volatile
area. Besides, no one seems to think the effort would be
worthwhile as I’m told it’s a pretty isolated and desolate
place, rather like Tristan da Cunha.”
“Tristan da where?” The prime minister paused. “Oh,
never mind! Sort it out, bury, or lose it, will you? But
try to avoid anything that might wake sleeping dogs. The
last thing I need is for the press or the opposition to get
more excited.” He hesitated as a thought struck him. “Do
we still want to keep the place?”
“Prime Minister, they’re British subjects!”
“So were the Americans at one time.”
For once, the foreign secretary couldn’t immediately
find a suitable reply. “I haven’t been fully briefed
yet, but I can see advantages to getting rid of it and so
avoid any irritants given the current fuss over colonization
and rewriting history. But there may be a hitch. The
American ambassador was asking if we propose to do
anything about it.”
“Was he indeed! Bloody Americans, always throwing
sand in the works. I wonder why at this time. Well,
keep abreast of it, and let me know when you have a
clearer picture.”
“I’d like to put a small team together to follow developments.
I think I have someone in mind, but I need
your agreement.”
“Who do you have in mind?”
“Hantington.”
“Oh, yes! The father’s an old friend. Yes, yes, I think
he might be a sound choice.”
“Thank you, Prime Minister.”
*****
“Director Hsien will see you now. Please follow me.”
Ron Miller, the first counsellor at the British embassy
in Beijing, stood up, straightened his regimental tie,
pulled out a little more cuff on his sleeves, and buttoned
his jacket. Grabbing his briefcase, he followed the
elderly, grim-faced woman to the door behind which he
would find the Foreign Ministry representative of the
People’s Republic of China. Once inside the office, he
faced a man sitting at a polished desk who looked up at
him expressionlessly and said nothing. Two more men
stood by the desk.
The office was roomy and painted in subtle light
green. A picture of the president hung behind the desk
flanked by a Chinese flag. The walls were half paneled
in rosewood and a thick patterned carpet covered much
of the floor. To one side was a leather sofa facing a small
coffee table with a flower arrangement. Three armchairs
had been placed in front of the table opposite the sofa. A
large mural depicting the Summer Palace partly covered
the upper part of the wall to the right, giving the room a
less business-like atmosphere.
Windows on one side of the room opened toward
the Forbidden City. On clear days the golden roofs of
the ancient palace would have gleamed in the sun, but
not today. A grey haze covered Beijing and hid any
view, leaving a depressing impression. The Chinese
Environment Office announced the pollution index was
250 ppm. However, the American embassy posted 720,
and Miller believed the latter.
All three men facing him wore dark business suits and
open-necked white shirts. Their unsmiling expressions
were hardly welcoming, but they held a hint of curiosity
and even disdain. Miller thought he sensed tension
but could not think why there should be. Unusual, he
thought, but he had no choice but to wait.
“So good of you to come, Mr. Miller.” The man behind
the desk stood up. “Please be seated.” He indicated the
sofa. “I’m Hsien Fu Ling, and these are my associates,
Li Wu Fen and Liu Hao Wen.” The associates acknowledged
their introductions with nods.
Miller sat on the sofa, pulled at the crease in his
blue pinstripe suit trousers, and waited. He was slightly
amused that sitting on the sofa meant he had to look up
at his hosts. There was no question who was going to try
to dominate the conduct of the meeting.
“Forgive me for asking you to wait, but first, would
you care for some tea?” At this question a secretary
came in and placed teacups onto the table. Delicately
spooning some tea leaves from a caddy, she poured hot
water into the cups and placed a small lid on top of each
of them. After folding and placing a small white serviette
beside each cup, she left the room.
Miller looked at his cup, admiring the delicate porcelain
with its painted designs of gilded flowers and
dragons but did not reach out for it.
“Thank you for your kind invitation, Director Hsien,
but perhaps we could come to the point of the meeting?”
A look of irritation crossed Hsien’s face at such a
breach of Chinese etiquette, but he crossed to an armchair
and sat down, flanked by his associates.
“Of course, Mr. Miller, we do not wish to keep
you from your important and, I dare say, pressing
duties any longer than necessary.” He paused to let the
implied sarcasm sink in. “We received Her Majesty’s
Government note expressing concern over the presence
of Chinese warships in the South China Sea near the soclaimed
British colony of Dejection Island. We note Her
Majesty’s Government requests the government of the
People’s Republic of China to clarify the significance of
the presence of these ships.” Hsien paused and looked
at Miller in silence. “Significance?” he queried. “We do
not recognize the existence of a British colony there, so
of what concern are Chinese warships to Her Majesty’s
Government? Has there been any sign to suggest that
the ships are engaged in activities other than in China’s
peaceful interests?”
“Director Hsien, surely you are aware that Britain has
long claimed Dejection Island as a British colony in the
South China Sea. Because of that colony, there are colonial
territorial waters that clearly affect any maritime
activities. Her Majesty’s Government would like assurances
from the People’s Republic of China that China
will respect the colony’s sovereignty over those waters.”
“Mr. Miller, let me say that Britain claiming territory
does not mean it belongs to Britain.” Hsien reached for
his tea and, holding the lid on top to keep the tea leaves
in, sipped delicately.
“Excuse me, Director, but the island is inhabited
by people who have been and who voted to remain
British subjects.”
Hsien looked at Miller with an expression that suggested
a mixture of amusement and pity. Finally, Hsien
leaned forward. “But you seem to forget our warships
are off its coasts.” After a moment, Hsien leaned back
and continued. “But rest assured their presence should
only be taken as a normal naval exercise by Chinese
ships in Chinese territorial waters.”
Miller was taken aback. He looked down at his shiny
black brogues, gathering his thoughts. Sounds to me like
the gloves are most definitely coming off now. I think I just
heard the opening salvo of gunboat diplomacy. This is way
above my pay level. Still, it could get messy, and I doubt I’ll
be able to escape scot-free.
“The South China Sea is Chinese territorial waters,”
Hsien repeated. “As I’m sure you know, although several
nations dispute that fact, and the Permanent Court of
Arbitration has ruled in support of their disputations.
However, my government has concerns about the fairness
of the court and does not accept that ruling. Thus,
we do not recognize any sovereignty there other than
our own.” Hsien paused and waited for Miller’s reaction.
Because Miller did not reply, Hsien took another sip and
then continued. “Given my government’s position, any
activity China might be undertaking in that area will be
to protect Chinese interests. Of course, we are aware
of the British and other claimed interests, such as the
Americans. The American policy on the South China
Sea is unacceptable to us, but we hope to encourage
them to change their aims. We prefer they stay out of
Chinese and Asian affairs.”
Miller decided that perhaps some tea would be nice
after all. He struggled out of the sofa and, following
Hsien’s example, he took a sip, holding the lid in place. He
looked up at Hsien. “Well, yes, Director Hsien, I understand,
but given the island’s status as a British colony, its
policies are hardly a matter of concern to China. Britain
is only interested in keeping the peaceful and even
cordial relationship it has with the People’s Republic of
China. As to American policies, Britain has no say in that
matter. Why not go straight to the Americans?”
Hsien looked at Miller in silence before replying.
“The Americans have been most uncooperative. We
do not believe further discussions with them will help.
However, may I understand that Britain will cooperate
with China in preventing American or any other nation’s
activities and or expansions into the area?” Hsien carefully
put his cup back on the table.
“I’m unable to give you any assurances on future
British policies or the actions of other sovereign nations
other than to repeat that we wish to avoid any disruption
of our current friendly relationship.”
“Excellent. But in the light of the British claim to the
sovereignty of this island, we wondered why Britain did
not appear before the Arbitration Court. To express
concerns over the presence of Chinese warships, even
if unfounded, seems late at this point. However, in a
spirit of cooperation, we would prefer to understand the
British position before there are any misunderstandings.”
“I’m not aware that Britain had any reason to appear
before the court. But, as you must realize, I’m not
familiar with the British government’s position on that
matter.” Miller heard one of the men say something in
Chinese and understood he had just been dismissed as
an administrative lackey. Miller hid his knowledge of
Mandarin and bridled at the insult but held his anger.
“Yes, we understand that, but we would like Her
Majesty’s Government to address the issue.” Hsien’s
tone suggested this was not a request for Her Majesty’s
Government to refuse.
“I apologize, but I was not aware there is an issue.”
Miller assumed a look of innocent bewilderment.
“But surely you understand that we are puzzled why,
after the return of Hong Kong, Britain persists in its false
claim to this island.”
“False claim? But Director Hsien, you do know that
Britain has owned that island since the late eighteenth
century, correct? As far as I’m aware, China has never
disputed that claim.”
“Perhaps not, but that does not mean China accepts the
continuation of an unfounded claim over Chinese territory.”
“And as I pointed out, there are British subjects living
on that island who have been there continually for some
two hundred years.”
“I’m sure alternative habitats are available to them,
habitats that are not subject to dispute.” He paused for
Miller to consider this suggestion before continuing.
“Alternatively, they could remain on the island and apply
for Chinese citizenship.”
Miller took several moments to decide that yes, Hsien
had progressed beyond the territorial waters argument
and now claimed the British colony belonged to China.
“Our concern is that Britain illegally holds on to
this island as both an insult to China and to assist
American expansionist aims or to support other interfering
interests that could cause us irritations.” Hsien’s
tone hardened.
“Ah! Yes, I can see how you might come to that conclusion!
However, I repeat my assurance that Britain has
no desire to disrupt the friendly relations it enjoys with
the People’s Republic.”
“That is most reassuring! I feel certain we can resolve
the matter in a mutually cooperative manner.” Miller
had little doubt what cooperation would entail, but
Hsien went on. “We apologize for the delay in bringing
this matter up. Despite the delay, we are now most interested
in coming to a speedy resolution of the problem.
As I’m sure your government understands, we are fully
prepared to assume our rightful occupation of the island
and are taking steps to do so in a speedy but peaceful
manner. The presence of Chinese warships should not,
however, be taken as an indication of China’s intentions.
The issue of ownership may be just an administrative
inconsistency requiring nothing more than paperwork
that I’m sure everyone would like to reduce.”
Miller looked at Hsien. Well now, the significance of
the warships needs no further explanation. The pundits in
Whitehall will be pleased—or more probably not pleased at
all. I’m not sure of the next step.
“You said an administrative inconsistency?” Miller
improvised.
“At the time England claimed the island, it was already
Chinese. Our records show China never ceded its claim
to the island; therefore, the English claim to the island
was illegal. We suggest addressing the issue now. We
hope to do so in an amicable and cooperative manner.”
“But if your records show that the island is yours, why
not produce them to justify your claim?”
“It is our intention to do so. At the proper time.”
“Ah! Yes, I see. When might the time be appropriate?”
“When it is convenient.”
“Ah! Yes, I can understand the problem. Does the
People’s Republic have any suggestions to give to Her
Majesty’s Government?”
“Come now, Mr. Miller! The People’s Republic never
makes suggestions to other sovereign states. We prefer
to come to a mutual agreement.” Hsien smiled, but
Miller did not take it as a friendly gesture.
“Would I be correct that a change in the status quo
would be a convenient suggestion? A suggestion that
could be in the best interests of both our governments
and, more specifically, would prevent unfortunate and
distressing consequences?”
Miller looked askance at his host, but Hsien smiled.
“Mr. Miller, my superiors express the hope that Her
Majesty’s Government will act very quickly and not disappoint
them. To do otherwise could prove irritating.”
With Chinese warships on hand, I doubt the irritation
will last very long. With that thought, Miller took his
leave and hurried back to his embassy
Something about Dejection Island, which has been forgotten by the world for years, is suddenly attracting all kinds of interesting attention from governments and shady individuals alike. Professor Holroyd receives and accepts an assignment to investigate the island's history and suddenly finds himself in the middle of a very sticky web of intrigue, totally out of his depth. It seems that he can't trust anyone. Can he stay alive long enough to find the answers he needs?
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It is full of interesting history and culture that make the story seem real. The author really did amazing research. I would have liked a little more background into one or two characters' interest in Dejection Island, as well as their personal background. I also think there could also have been a little more about the island itself (in the part where Holroyd finds what he was looking for) but that is just personal preference.
My little old fashioned soul loves the fact that there is minimal blood and gore. Yes there are people who die (it is a thriller after all), but the dead bodies aren't the focus. I appreciate that. As a sensitive reader, I find I struggle with modern thrillers because they are just too gory. The characters were brilliant, complex and unique. It was easy to get invested in them. The action is fast-paced but not in a way that confuses or overwhelms. The only part of the book that fell a little flat for me was the end. After the great build-up and suspense, the reveal just felt too fast. It was like I was still waiting for something to happen and then it was all over.
All in all, I think Peter King's The Dragon's Threat is a really good first novel and I will definitely be recommending it and looking out for his next book.