Flood of Fire

by Amitav Ghosh

  Who are they? said Raju.

  Did you see a memsah’b in a black dress and a bonnet? Her name is Paulette Lambert – she knows your father. She was on the Ibis too and she has met him here in China as well. And you may have seen also a man in a Chinese robe? He too is your father’s friend. If anyone can get a message to your father it is he. You should talk to him.

  Raju looked around the maindeck and saw no sign of either.

  Where are they?

  I think they went inside, said Baboo Nob Kissin. They went to see how Mrs Moddie is doing.

  The gomusta raised a finger to point to a gangway that led astern: Go and have a look over there; that’s where they’ll be.

  Raju set off without another word. Threading his way through the guests, he circled around until he reached the gangway that led to the cabins at the rear of the vessel.

  This part of the ship was empty and silent; the gangway was dimly lit, by a few, flickering lamps.

  Keeping to one side, Raju made his way slowly forward. There were cabins to the right and to the left of the gangway, but the doors were all shut. Only one door was ajar and it was at the far end; above it was a sign that said ‘Owner’s Suite’.

  Creeping up to the entrance, Raju put his eye to the crack in the doorway. There seemed to be a lot of old furniture inside; there was a draught blowing through and it pushed the door a little further ajar, as if to invite Raju in. After hesitating for a minute, Raju stepped through the doorway.

  Moonlight was flowing in through the windows, one of which was wide open. Raju saw now, to his great surprise, that someone was sitting by the window, in a chair: all Raju could see of him was a turbaned head, silhouetted against the moolight.

  To Raju’s relief it seemed that the man had not noticed his presence. Holding his breath, he took a step backwards, thinking that he had better leave while he could.

  But just as he was about to slip away the turbaned head turned to look in his direction: the silvery moonlight gave Raju a glimpse of a man with a broad, square face and a clipped beard.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ said Raju apologetically. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

  To his relief, there was no torrent of abuse as he had half-expected: the man only smiled silently.

  Mumbling another ‘Sorry, sir,’ Raju ducked out. Pulling the door shut behind him, he turned around to find that two figures, a man and a woman, had stepped out of one of the cabins that lined the gangway. The man was dressed in a Chinese gown and when he caught sight of Raju he said: ‘Hello? Who are you, eh? And what you doing here?’

  Suddenly Raju understood that this was the couple that Baboo Nob Kissin had told him about.

  ‘I was looking for you, sir,’ he blurted out. ‘And for ma’am too.’

  ‘You were looking for us?’ said Paulette in surprise. ‘But why?’

  Raju stepped quickly towards them. ‘You both know my father,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘Baboo Nob Kissin told me so.’

  ‘Who is your father?’

  ‘His name is Neel.’

  Kesri was still recovering from the shock of his meeting with Paulette when Zachary appeared in front of him.

  ‘Good day there, Sarjeant. Could I have a word with you please?’

  ‘Yes, Reid-sah’b?’

  ‘Sarjeant, you remember that evening, on the Hind? How you came to my cabin and asked me questions about your sister?’

  ‘Yes, Reid-sah’b.’

  ‘Sarjeant, I need you to return the favour now. I’ve got some questions that I need you to answer.’

  ‘Questions?’ said Kesri in surprise. ‘For me?’

  ‘Yes, Sarjeant. You said that you’d been Captain Mee’s orderly twenty years ago – isn’t that right?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Were you ever with him in a place called Ranchi?’

  ‘Yes, Reid-sah’b.’

  ‘Was he a lieutenant then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And was Mrs Burnham there too?’

  Kesri’s face hardened and the muscles in his jaw began to twitch. ‘Why you want to know, Reid-sah’b?’

  ‘Listen, Sarjeant,’ said Zachary sharply, ‘when you asked me questions about your sister I answered. You told me then to come to you if I ever needed anything. Well I’ve come to you now with a question, a very simple one, and if you’re a man of your word you’ll answer it. Let me ask again: was Mrs Burnham in Ranchi at the same time as Captain Mee?’

  Kesri nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes, Mr Reid,’ he said. ‘She was there.’

  ‘Thank you, Sarjeant. That’s all I need.’

  Now that he had received confirmation, Zachary felt vastly more calm than he had been when the idea was just a suspicion in his head. It was as if Mrs Burnham had given him yet another gift; it was up to him now to use her secret to his own advantage.

  *

  Tu kahan jaich? Kai? Where are you going? Why?

  As her eyes flew open Shireen experienced a moment of pure terror: she had no idea of where she was or how she had got there.

  Then she heard Zadig Bey’s voice, somewhere close by: ‘It’s all right, Bibiji – I am here, with you.’

  She sat up with a start and a cold towel flew off her forehead. ‘Where am I?’

  Holding up a lamp, Zadig Bey turned up the wick: ‘You are in Mrs Burnham’s cabin, Bibiji, on her bed. After you fainted she suggested that we bring you here. I’ve been sitting with you all this while. Paulette and Freddie just looked in on you; seeing that you were still unconscious they stepped out.’

  Casting her eyes around the panelled cabin, Shireen fell back against the pillows. Her heart was beating wildly, erratically, and she pressed a hand against her chest, as if to slow it down.

  ‘What’s the matter, Bibiji?’

  Zadig Bey took hold of her other hand and pressed her feverishly hot palm between his own cool fingers. ‘What is it, Bibiji? Tell me.’

  Shireen closed her eyes. ‘I had a dream, Zadig Bey; it was very strange – like the dreams that Freddie talks about.’

  ‘How do you mean, Bibiji?’

  ‘I saw my husband: he was standing beside me. He had come to see me; there was something he wanted to say.’

  She began to cough, choking on her words. Zadig Bey handed her a glass of water. ‘Go on, Bibiji.’

  ‘He asked my forgiveness and said that I should put the past behind me. He said I should look to the future and make the best of my remaining years. Then he took his leave, saying jauch, and that was all. He was gone. That was when I woke up.’

  Snatching up the end of her sari, Shireen began to dab her eyes.

  ‘Why are you crying, Bibiji?’ said Zadig. ‘There was nothing bad in what you heard.’

  Shireen swallowed a sob. ‘It’s just that I don’t understand – why was he asking my forgiveness, Zadig Bey? What for?’

  There was no answer, so she turned to look him in the eye. ‘Tell me the truth, Zadig Bey – did Bahram … did he die by his own hand?’

  Zadig pursed his lips. ‘I don’t think it was as simple as that, Bibiji,’ he said. ‘If anything, it probably happened as Freddie says: he must have thought that he had heard Chi-mei’s voice. Bahrambhai told me once that he had had a vision of her, on this very ship, the Anahita.’

  ‘A vision?’ scoffed Shireen. ‘Impossible! Bahram never believed in such things!’

  ‘But he told me so himself, Bibiji: it happened on his last voyage, long after Chi-mei’s death. The Anahita was hit by a storm, in the Bay of Bengal. Bahram-bhai’s cargo of opium was knocked loose so he went down to secure the chests. That was when he heard her voice and saw her face. He said the hold was filled with the smell of raw opium – the fumes could have conjured up all kinds of things in his mind. Maybe that’s how it happened on the night of his death as well. Opium probably had something to do with it.’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ said Shireen. ‘Are you saying that my husband was taking opium?’

  Zadig shifted u
ncomfortably in his chair: ‘I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, Bibiji, but the truth is that Bahram was smoking a lot of opium in his final days. After the crisis in Canton he was in a very downcast state of mind.’

  ‘Because of his financial losses?’

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t just that, Bibiji. He had other things on his mind as well.’

  ‘Tell me, Zadig Bey.’

  ‘Bibiji, the opium crisis was a great trial for Bahram-bhai – he was torn between his two families, between Canton and Bombay, between China and Hindustan. There he was in Canton, with a huge cargo of opium; to lose it would bring ruin, not just on him but also on you and your daughters. On the other hand he knew very well what opium had done to Freddie; he was aware of what it was doing to China; he knew that it was slowly corroding families, clans, monasteries, the army; every chest that came in was creating more addicts …’

  Zadig stopped to scratch his chin.

  ‘Bibiji, one thing about Bahram-bhai, he was not a moralizer; he was not a man to hold forth about religion, or good and evil. His emotions, his thoughts, they followed his flesh, his blood, his heart. He was above all a family man – but it so happened that fate gave him two families, one in China and one in India. He knew that his actions in Canton, as an opium-trader, would haunt both his families, for generations, and it was more than he could bear. I think that was why he began to smoke so much: it wasn’t just that he was seeking escape; it was as if he were sacrificing himself, in expiation for what he had done.’

  Shireen crumpled the wet end of her sari between her hands. ‘Did he talk to you about these things, Zadig Bey? Did he talk about Chi-mei? Did he say he loved her?’

  ‘No, Bibiji!’ said Zadig emphatically. ‘Bahram-bhai was not a romantic man. He thought love and romance were not for practical men like himself.’

  Zadig stopped to clear his throat. ‘In this, Bibiji, he and I were completely different.’

  ‘What do you mean, Zadig Bey?’

  ‘When I first fell in love, as a young man, I knew I had no choice in the matter: I was helpless.’

  He swallowed a couple of times, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Then, in a low, hoarse voice, he said: ‘And with you too, I knew – since that day in the church.’

  The words sent a shiver through Shireen. When he placed his hands on hers she did not pull them back.

  *

  Hearing a drum-roll in the distance Paulette pulled Raju into her arms and kissed the boy on the cheek. Onek katha holo, she said. ‘We’ve been talking a long time now. Your friends in the band will be wondering where you went.’

  ‘Yes, I’d better go,’ said Raju. ‘Goodbye, Miss Paulette.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  Then Freddie’s hand fell on his shoulder: ‘Good thing we saw you, eh? Coming out of that suite?’

  ‘Yes, sir, Mr Lee.’

  ‘Why were you there anyway? What were you doing in that suite?’

  ‘The door was open so I went in,’ said Raju. ‘I didn’t know anyone was inside.’

  ‘There was someone inside?’

  ‘Yes, a gentleman.’

  ‘Gentleman, eh?’ Freddie dropped into a squat and looked him straight in the face. ‘Who was he?’

  ‘I don’t know who he was,’ said Raju. ‘I had never seen him before.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘He had a beard and he was wearing a white turban.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Reaching for Raju’s shoulder, Freddie pulled him to his chest and gave him a hug. ‘Don’t worry, lah. Everything will be all right. I will get a message to your father. It may take a little time, but he will know that you are here.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Raju. ‘And goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye. Be careful.’

  As Raju ran off, Freddie seemed to lapse into a trance. Then, without a word to Paulette, he began to walk towards the door at the end of the gangway. Following on his heels, Paulette looked over his shoulder as he put a hand on the doorknob and pushed it open.

  There was a heap of furniture inside, silhouetted against a pair of moonlit windows. One of the windows was open and its shutter was flapping gently in the breeze; beside it stood an empty chair.

  Freddie walked over to the window at a slow, measured pace, almost as though he were afraid of what he would find. Paulette heard a deep sigh as he looked over the sill.

  ‘Come. See.’

  Stepping up to the window she saw that a rope-ladder was hanging from the rim, flapping gently in the breeze.

  ‘Is it this ladder you saw that day?’ said Freddie. ‘Was is it hanging like this, eh?’

  ‘Maybe, I cannot say,’ said Paulette. ‘Anyway why is it hanging there now?’

  Freddie made no reply. Leaning forward, he thrust his head out of the window and looked down into the water, at the shimmering reflection of the moon.

  For a while he seemed to listen to the waves, with his eyes closed. Then she heard him say: ‘I can hear them, lah – calling me, the two of them, my mother and father.’

  On an impulse she put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. His angular cheekbones stood out in the silvery moonlight, lending a strange beauty to his gaunt, haunted face.

  ‘You cannot go,’ said Paulette. ‘I will not let you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Didn’t you say yourself? That the bonds of the Ibis are very strong? We all need each other.’

  Seventeen

  Two days after the start of the English New Year, Compton came over to Whampoa unexpectedly, bearing freshly issued orders for the Cambridge to move to a new position. She was to be taken downriver to the island of North Wantung, which lay directly opposite Humen, at the centre of the Tiger’s Mouth.

  The Cambridge weighed anchor that very day, with Compton on board: he was under instructions to accompany the crew. About the reasons for these changes he said nothing and Neel knew better than to ask.

  This was the first time the Cambridge had undertaken a voyage of any length. Somewhat to Neel’s surprise the crew performed well together and the vessel made good time.

  As they sailed downriver it became apparent to both Neel and Jodu that some kind of military action – offensive or defensive – was imminent. Extensive preparations were in progress along the river: earthworks and fortifications were being strengthened; new, camouflaged gun-emplacements had been built, and flotillas of war-junks were patrolling the channel. Twice, the Cambridge had to stop to pick up contingents of ‘water-braves’: they were travelling upriver to augment the naval force that was stationed at Humen, under the command of Admiral Guan Tiaifei (whom Neel and Compton had seen in action, in those very waters, fifteen months before).

  On drawing abreast of Humen, they spotted a vessel with an American flag lying at anchor near the customs house. The flag was a decoy, Compton told Neel; the ship was actually carrying a cargo of tea for Lancelot Dent, the prominent British merchant. The transaction had been arranged by Dent’s old compradore, Peng Bao, who was now Governor-General Qishan’s translator.

  That a man in as prominent a position as Peng Bao was openly colluding with an infamous opium trader like Lancelot Dent was shocking enough to Neel. But he soon learnt that this was by no means the worst of it: Compton told him that after Commissioner Lin’s removal from power many of Guangdong’s officials had gone back to their old ways and were busy feathering their own nests.

  The Cambridge dropped anchor just off the tip of North Wantung Island, which was a steeply rising massif of rock, in the centre of the mile-wide channel. Here too there was a formidable fort, equipped with many heavy guns. Not far from the fort were the moorings of a new defensive barrier: a massive iron chain that ran all the way across the main shipping channel, to Humen.

  Later that day Admiral Guan arrived in person to inspect the Cambridge.

  Neel and the lascars watched from a respectful distance as the ship’s Chinese officers showed the admiral around: he was a distingu
ished-looking man in his early sixties: plainly dressed, in a dark, winter cape; on his hat was a red button. Compton explained later that this was an emblem of very high rank.

  Before returning to his own junk the admiral offered a few words of encouragement to the lascars, telling them the British might attack any day and that they would earn rich rewards if they succeeded in bringing down a warship: the prize money for a seventy-four-gun frigate had now been raised to fifty thousand Spanish dollars.

  Neel’s impression was of a genial, capable and highly intelligent man; this assessment was shared by Jodu who said that the admiral seemed much more knowledgeable and businesslike than the other dignitaries who had visited the Cambridge.

  The next morning Neel, Jodu, Compton and a few others took a tour of the Tiger’s Mouth in a sailboat. Cruising around that wide expanse of water Neel understood how this section of the channel came by its name: narrow at both ends, the basin seemed to be bounded by powerful jaws on all sides. At one end the river flowed in as if through a gullet: here lay the area’s mightiest defences – the battlements and gun-emplacements of Humen and North Wantung. At the other end, where the river debouched into the estuary, lay two more sets of fortifications: the island of Shaitok – or Chuenpee as it was known to foreigners – was on the eastern side. Facing it across the channel was another citadel, on the headland known as Tytock.

  At the end of the tour their party went ashore and walked around Chuenpee. Neel saw that there had been many changes in the fifteen months since he and Compton had last visited the island. The hamlet they had stayed in was now empty, abandoned by its inhabitants. At that time the island had been defended by two fortresses: one was on a hilltop while the other was a fortified gun-emplacement on the shore. The two had now been joined together to form a single rambling fort, enclosed by ramparts that ran all the way up the hill. These in turn were flanked by a dry moat and breastworks.

  Seen from the ramparts of Chuenpee the whole of the Tiger’s Mouth looked like a vast fortified stronghold with a lake at its centre: on every eminence and promontory there were battlements and batteries. On all sides of the channel were gun-ports, hundreds of them, each marked with a colourful device: the head of a tiger.