River of Smoke it-2

by Amitav Ghosh

  The others followed him across the room and positioned themselves so they could address the Weiyuen without being directly confronted with the two chained Hongists.

  ‘The Weiyuen asks if in your country foreigners are exempted from observing the laws of the land.’

  ‘No,’ said Mr Wetmore. ‘They are not.’

  ‘Why then should you consider yourselves exempt from Chinese law?’

  ‘Because it has been the custom for the foreign community in Canton to regulate itself.’

  ‘The Weiyuen says: this custom holds only so long as you do not flout the laws of the land. We have given you warning after warning, issued edicts and proclamations, and yet you have continued to bring opium ships to our coast, in defiance of the law. Why then should you not be treated as criminals?’

  ‘Please explain to the Weiyuen,’ said Mr Wetmore, ‘that as Englishmen and Americans, we enjoy certain freedoms under the laws of our own countries. These require us to be subject, in the first instance, to our own laws.’

  This took a while to explain.

  ‘The Weiyuen says he cannot believe that any country would be so barbaric as to allow its merchants the freedom to harm and despoil the people of a foreign realm. This is not freedom – it is akin to piracy. No government could possibly condone it.’

  Mr Slade’s patience had worn thin by now, and he had begun to tap his cane loudly on the floor. ‘Oh for heaven’s sake!’ he cried. ‘Can we not dispense with this mealy-mouthed cant? Please tell him, Mr Fearon, that he will know what freedom means when he sees it coming at him from the barrel of a sixteen-pounder.’

  ‘Oh I cannot say that to him, sir,’ said Mr Fearon.

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Dent. ‘But I do believe Slade has a point. The time has come when we must seek Captain Elliott’s intervention.’

  Mr King had been listening to this exchange with a wry smile, and he broke in now: ‘But Mr Dent! It is you and Mr Slade who have always wanted to keep Captain Elliott at a distance from Canton. Am I wrong to think that it was you who said that the involvement of a government representative would be a perversion of the laws of Free Trade?’

  ‘This is no longer a matter of trade, Mr King,’ said Dent coldly. ‘As you can see, it now concerns our persons, our safety.’

  ‘Oh I see!’ said Mr King with a laugh. ‘The government is to you what God is to agnostics – only to be invoked when your own wellbeing is at stake!’

  ‘Please, sir,’ Mr Fearon broke in. ‘The Weiyuen is waiting. What am I to say to him?’

  The answer was provided by Mr Wetmore. ‘Tell him that it is impossible for us to do anything without consulting with the English Representative, Captain Elliott, who is currently in Macau. Please inform him that we have sent word to him. He will be here soon.’

  Absorbed in this exchange, Bahram had become totally oblivious to everything else that was going on around him: he was startled when he heard Zadig’s voice in his ear.

  Please Bahram-bhai, can I have a word with you?

  Yes. Of course.

  They retreated to a quiet corner, behind a huge armoire.

  There’s something I must tell you, Bahram-bhai.

  Yes. What is it?

  Zadig leant closer. I have it on good authority that your name was also on the arrest warrant.

  What warrant? What are you talking about?

  The same warrant that has been served on Dent. I have it on good authority that your name was on it this morning. You too were to be arrested. I believe your name was removed just before the Weiyuen set off to fetch Dent.

  Bahram’s eyes opened wide in disbelief: But why would they want to arrest me? What have I done?

  They are evidently well informed about what has been going on at the Chamber. Clearly they know that Dent has been opposing the surrender of the opium. Perhaps they have learnt of your opposition too.

  But how could they know? said Bahram. And if they do, then why did they remove my name?

  Perhaps they felt the Chamber might give you up in exchange for Dent.

  Bahram’s voice fell to a whisper. But the commitee would not allow it surely? he said. Would they?

  Listen, Bahram-bhai, you are not an American or an Englishman. You don’t have any warships behind you. If the Chamber had to surrender you or Dent, who do you think they would pick?

  Bahram stared at him: his throat had gone dry but he managed to say: What shall I do then, Zadig Bey? Tell me?

  You had better go back to your hong, Bahram-bhai. And maybe you should stay out of sight for a while.

  Although not entirely persuaded, Bahram decided to follow Zadig’s advice. He slipped away and on the way back he had the distinct impression that the guardsmen were scrutinizing him with special care; while crossing the Maidan his instinct told him he was being watched. Everywhere he looked, eyes seemed to be following him: although he strode along as fast as he could, the two-minute walk seemed to last an hour.

  Even the safety of his daftar brought little comfort to Bahram: it was as if the familiar surroundings had become a cage. When he looked out of the window, squads of guardsmen seemed to appear out of nowhere, to return his gaze; when he sat at his desk, he began to wonder what would have happened if his name had remained on the warrant. What if Howqua and Mowqua had come to the Achha Hong, with chains draped around their necks, to beg him to give himself up to the Yum-chae? He could almost hear Dinyar and the other Parsis clicking their tongues and whispering at a safe distance: Poor Shireenbai… husband in the chokey… just imagine the shame…

  That night even laudanum failed to have its usual effect: the draught he took was strong enough that he was able to shut his eyes, but the sleep that came from it was neither continuous nor untroubled. At one point he imagined that his fravashi, his guardian spirit, was taking leave of him, abandoning him to make his way alone through the rest of his days on earth. He sat up to find the room plunged into a funereal darkness: even the lamp in his altar had gone out. He got groggily out of bed and kept striking matches until the divo lit up again. Barely had he closed his eyes – or so it seemed – when he was visited by another, even more disturbing vision: he saw himself stepping on to the bridge of heaven, Chinvat-pul; he saw that his way was barred by the angel of judgement, Meher Davar; he heard himself mouthing the words Kam nemon zam, kuthra nemon ayem? – ‘To which land shall I turn, where shall I go?’ – he saw the angel’s hand turning to point to the darkness under the bridge; he saw himself tumbling off the edge, falling into the fathomless chasm below.

  He woke to find himself drenched in sweat – yet never had he been so glad to wake from a dream. Reaching for the bell-rope he pulled on it so hard that Vico came running up the stairs.

  What’s the matter, patrao? What happened?

  Vico – I want you to go to the Paoushun Hong. See what you can learn about what’s going on with Dent. And take the munshi with you too.

  Vico looked at him in surprise. No work today, patrao?

  No. I don’t feel well; tell them to bring my breakfast to the bedroom.

  Yes, patrao.

  Through the rest of the morning, Vico and the munshi took it in turns to keep Bahram informed: now the Hongists were at Dent’s house; now they were at the Chamber pleading with the members to persuade Dent to give himself up.

  ‘But we do not possess the authority to coerce any of our members,’ insisted the Committee.

  ‘What is the purpose of a Chamber then,’ responded the Hongists, ‘if it has no influence over its members?’

  In the early afternoon the munshi reported that he had just seen Zadig Bey – he was accompanying a delegation of translators and mediators; they were on their way to visit the mandarins.

  A few hours later, Zadig dropped by himself, looking exhausted but also strangely exhilarated.

  What happened? Where did you go? To the Consoo House?

  No, said Zadig. We went into the walled city – for the first time ever in my life…


  They had entered by the Choolan Gate and were taken to the temple of Kuan-yin. They had seated themselves in the first courtyard, in the shade of an immense tree. Soon they were led into the temple’s interior, to the courtyard where the priests lived, and there they were served tea, fruit and other refreshments. After a while several senior mandarins arrived, including the treasurer of the province, the salt commissioner, the grain inspector and a judge.

  Some of them had hoped, and some had feared, that the Yum-chae would be there too – but such was not the case; only these other officials were present.

  They were asked their names, their countries and so on, and then the mandarins said: ‘Why doesn’t Mr Dent obey the Yum-chae?’

  It was Mr Thom, the translator, who spoke for them: ‘The foreigners are convinced that Mr Dent would be arrested and detained if he went into the old city.’

  It was the judge who answered. He said: ‘The High Commissioner’s eyes are very sharp and his ears very long. He knows this Dent to be a very rich capitalist. The High Commissioner holds positive orders from the Emperor to put down the opium trade; he wishes to admonish this Dent and also to inquire into the nature of his business. If this Dent does not consent to come before him, he shall be dragged out of his house by force. If he resists he will be killed.’

  To this the delegation made no response so the treasurer said: ‘Why do you continue to shield this Dent? Is the trade with China not dear to you foreigners?’

  ‘Yes,’ answered Mr Thom. ‘But Dent’s life is still dearer.’

  And then, said Zadig, a very strange thing happened, Bahram-bhai. They liked Mr Thom’s answer so much they began to clap! Can you believe…

  Before he could finish, Vico burst in. Patrao – look out of the window!

  With Zadig beside him, Bahram went to the window and looked down: a crowd had gathered around the entrance to the British Factory. Visible over the heads of the milling spectators were the turbans of a paltan of sepoys; some of them had guns on their shoulders and the man in the lead was carrying the Union Jack.

  ‘Captain Elliott,’ said Zadig. ‘It must be him!’

  ‘Oh thank God, thank God,’ said Bahram. Closing his eyes, he murmured a prayer of gratitude; for the first time in many days he felt safe; having the British Representative nearby was like being granted a reprieve.

  Seventeen

  March 25, 1839

  Markwick’s Hotel, Canton

  Dearest Puggly, bad news is always hard to convey, but never more so that when one is hard pressed for time. You will understand then why this letter is doubly difficult: for not only have I to tell you about a most unfortunate development, it appears that I must do so with the greatest possible dispatch – for there are signs that something ominous is brewing in Fanqui-town today. I can hear disturbing sounds even as I write – on the roof of this hong, hammers are pounding, feet are running urgently to and fro – these are reminders that I have but little time and must be brief…

  You will be glad to know that yesterday, under the most trying circumstances, Baburao succeeded in bringing your precious plants safely to Canton. The traffic on the river was all at sixes and sevens, he said, because Captain Elliott, the British Representative, was speeding down to Canton from Macau, trying to stay ahead of the Chinese authorities. Baburao actually saw Captain Elliott go past, at a bend in the river – he was in a swift cutter, rowed by a team of lascars, with a paltan of sepoys for an escort: when approached by mandarin boats, they forced their way past, more or less at gunpoint.

  The Captain’s haste was occasioned – and this will serve to give you an idea of the Tumult that has seized Fanqui-town of late – by a rescue mission of sorts: Mr Dent has been asked to appear in person before the Commissioner and is terrified out of his wits! He believes he will be detained and has refused to leave his house; all his cronies have gathered around to support him, fearing that they may be next.

  I was told about this yesterday by Charlie King, who was in Mr Dent’s lodgings when it happened: it appears the Commissioner has recognized that the foreign merchants would liefer sacrifice the lives of the Co-Hong merchants than part with their opium. As a consequence he has decided to move directly against them: he has stopped issuing travel permits, which means that they cannot run away from Canton; he has also decided to confront the biggest and most unregenerate smuggler of all, Lancelot Dent. This has taken Mr Dent and his allies completely by surprise: evidently, they had assumed that being Europeans they would never be asked to personally answer for their crimes.

  Charlie says that Mr Dent’s face was quite a sight when the warrant was served on him. Within minutes he became a pathetic shell of a man; his vaunted doctrine of Free Trade was forgotten in a flash, and he lost no time in seeking refuge within the skirts of his government. He and his Free-Trader cronies are full of braggadocio and false conceit, but in fact they are the rankest of cowards – men who would count for nothing if they did not have the British Army and Navy to stand behind them as the guarantor of their profits.

  In light of this you will understand, Puggly dear, what a great hubbub was occasioned by Captain Elliott’s arrival in Fanqui-town. A huge crowd, of Chinese as well as foreigners, gathered to watch as he went from his cutter to the Consulate where he proceeded to hoist the flag. Then, surrounded by his sepoys, he went off to the Paoushun Hong, from wherein he shortly emerged with poor Mr Dent, who was, by this time, shivering like a leaf. Under the Captain’s protection, he crossed the Maidan and went into the British Factory: this has now become Mr Dent’s lair and refuge. Charlie says it is a matter of shame and infamy for Britain that a known criminal should be given the shelter of her flag.

  Not long afterwards a meeting of all foreign merchants was called in the British Hong – it was perhaps not my place to attend, but you know how nosy I am. I would not have missed it for the world! I went with Zadig Bey – and you cannot imagine, Puggly dear, what a tamasha and goll-maul there was, with foreigners of every stripe jostling for seats! We had to fight our way in.

  I wish I could say the Captain’s speech lived up to the excitement – but unfortunately it was the usual Burra Sahib stuff: he made no mention at all of the ways in which his government has connived in the smuggling of opium; nor did he speak of the charges levelled against Dent and the other smugglers. He announced instead that he would forthwith demand travel permits for all foreigners; if these were denied, he declared, he would consider it an act of war (does it not put you in mind, Puggly dear, of a dacoit leader marching into a courtroom and demanding the immediate and unconditional release of his gang?). Then – and this was the most alarming part – the Captain urged us all to move our belongings to the English ships that are currently anchored at Whampoa. This led everyone to believe that he would soon order an evacuation – and I am sure you can imagine, Puggly dear, how upset I was by that. The prospect of leaving Jacqua, of abandoning the one place on earth that has offered me some small measure of Happiness is, needless to add, utterly abhorrent to me…

  Cast into the deepest melancholy, I was sitting in my room, wondering what to do next when who should arrive but Baburao.

  I was very glad of course to learn that your consignment of plants had been safely transported to Canton – but I confess (and I trust you will not think any less of me for this, Puggly dear) that the news could not have come at a less opportune moment. Never had plants been further from my mind: what was I to do with them? How was I to get them to the Pearl River Nursery, without Ah-med’s guidance? How could I even be sure that Mr Chan was still in the city? I have seen nothing of either him or Ah-med since my last visit.

  And yet, it was clear that if the exchange of plants was to be effected at all it would have to be done at once – for the foreign merchants have now well and truly thrown down the gauntlet, not only refusing to surrender their opium, but declining even to be questioned. It was evident that there would be Consequences.

  Baburao was perfectly in agreement with
me on this score: the Commissioner was not a man to be lightly defied, he said: he was sure to shut down the river. It was imperative that the exchange be concluded before that happened.

  Night had already fallen, so it was too late to set off for Fa-Tee immediately; we agreed instead that we would leave early the next day. So this morning I went down to the river and there, as arranged, was Baburao, in a covered sampan with your six pots carefully stowed in the shade (for it has been dreadfully hot here of late). We left at once, and I am glad to say I was not as hapless a guide as I had feared: on approaching Fa-Tee I was able to point out the creek which led, so far as I remembered, to the Pearl River Nursery.

  It was only after we had entered the creek that we became aware of something very alarming. There were several officious-looking boats positioned ahead of us and the shores were swarming with troops.

  You will not be surprised to learn, Puggly dear, that Baburao displayed greater presence of mind than your poor Robin: he pushed me under the sampan’s covering and told me to conceal myself amongst the plants. This I proceeded to do with the greatest celerity: I curled up like a kitten and cowered between your pots (no easy matter, I might add, Puggly dear, for that nasty Douglas fir of yours did not take kindly to my presence – not for nothing, I discovered, is it said to be armoured with ‘needles’).

  Baburao, in the meanwhile, had kept our sampan on a steady course with the intention of declaring, if asked, that he was merely passing through the creek on the way to some other destination. Sure enough, shortly before the nursery, we were intercepted. Baburao was then questioned at length by an officer. You cannot conceive, Puggly dear, how terrifed I was – and not only was I palpitating with fear, I had also to suffer the most extreme discomfort (for your vile little currant bush had somehow succeeded in inserting a leaf into my nose – it was all I could do not to erupt into a paroxysm of sneezes).

  But fortunately Baburao’s presence of mind did not fail him: I did not of course understand what he said to the officers, but it must have been persuasive for our sampan was allowed to proceed without being searched.