Saigon by Anthony Grey Read Free Book Online Page A

them. He said all Annamese were idle and good-for-nothing.” 
    The French boy glanced at the man for a moment, then shrugged. “He and his friend are typical representatives of the old guard. See the dark half-moons beneath their eyes? That’s the sure sign of the habitual opium smoker. I have met your ‘friend’ once — his clothes always smell musty from the fumes. I believe he’s an inspector of mines or some such” Paul Devraux lowered his voice and leaned closer to the two Americans. “And as it happens opium is not the only vice of that particular pair. When they leave here they will probably stroll down the Rue Catinat to the riverside. On the quay opposite the Café de Ia Rotonde you’ll see poor Annamese boys parading there for such men, with rice powder on their faces. Or they will pick a young rickshaw coolie and ride around all night watching his little golden rump bobbing in front of their eyes — and beat him if he refuses their advances.” The French boy pursed his lips suddenly in an expression of disgust. “Those types are far too common. The men who come to the colonies from France are not always of the best quality. Let’s not talk anymore about them.” 
    “Then tell us a bit more about the natives,” said Chuck lightly, sipping his champagne and glancing around at the little groups of Annamese who were tending to draw closer together as the babble of noise from the French around them grew louder. “Who exactly are the slant-eyed oriental gentlemen who’ve come among us in their gaudy silk dressing gowns and funny hats?” 
    “We call them ‘collaborateurs’ but the Annamese who don’t want anything to do with the French call them the ‘licensed pirates.’” 
    “Why ‘licensed pirates’?” asked Joseph with a mystified smile. 
    “When our mighty French warships sailed in here sixty years ago the old Annamese scholars kept their distance. But we were very cunning — we bought loyalty. The lower-ranking mandarins who agreed to work as interpreters were rewarded with big tracts of good rice-growing land in the Mekong delta, and the idea soon began to catch on that collaborating paid. Over the years collaborateur families have become very rich. Because they’ve been good boys we’ve helped them extend their landholdings and they lease it back to their own peasants at exorbitant rates — that’s why their own people call them pirates.” Paul Devraux paused and nodded across the room. “Take the Tran family over there who’ve just been introduced to your father, for instance. They’re very big landowners—— probably worth quite a few million piastres.” 
    The Sherman brothers looked up to see the governor and their father talking to an old Annamese with a long gray goatee, who was wearing a black-winged Ming dynasty mandarin’s bonnet and a long embroidered gown of brilliant sea-green silk. They noticed that he kept his hands clasped inside the voluminous sleeves of his gown and rarely raised his eyes to the face of the governor or the senator. At his side a middle-aged Annamese dressed in a darker mandarin’s gown followed the conversation with a watchful expression. 
    “The venerable-looking Annamese with the beard is unusually shrewd,” said Paul. “He has retained his post at the imperial court in Hue. The family comes from the central region of Annam, I believe. But his son, Tran Van Hieu — that’s him in the darker gown — lives here in Saigon as the court’s Imperial Delegate. This allows him to supervise all the family’s vast landholdings in the delta. That way the family keeps a foot in both camps.” 
    “They don’t look much like American millionaires,” said Chuck facetiously. “Our tycoons back home tend to look a mite less submissive.” 
    Paul Devraux laughed humorlessly. “It’s not surprising, is it, in the presence of dignitaries of the master race? The French government allows the Annamese almost no say at all in running