Flood of Fire (42 page)

Two days before the
Ibis
was to weigh anchor for China, Baboo Nob Kissin came to the budgerow to deliver Zachary's twenty chests of opium. As he was about to leave he said: ‘Master Zikri, when I reach Hong Kong, it is possible that Miss Lambert will once again make inquiries regarding your good self. Maybe you would like to file off a missive for her? You can yourself furnish all necessary details about your movements – that way her soft corners will not be damaged. I will facilitate safe delivery.'

This alarmed Zachary, making him wonder what Paulette's expectations were in regard to himself: did she believe that they were as good as betrothed? If so, would it not be best to correct this misunderstanding?

‘All right, Baboo,' said Zachary grimly. ‘I'll give you a letter for Miss Lambert.'

‘Tomorrow morning I will come to get.'

It was already quite late and after going through many sheets of paper Zachary was still unable to find the right words to express his outrage at the insinuations that Paulette had made to Mrs Burnham, in regard to himself. Exhausted by the struggle, he went to bed and on waking the next morning he decided that it would be best to write briefly without going into too much detail.

As he was signing his name Zachary heard the crunch of wheels, somewhere nearby. Looking out of a window, he saw that Baboo Nob Kissin had arrived in a hackery-garee.

‘Master Zikri!' shouted the gomusta. ‘I have brought a gift.'

Zachary stepped out on deck to take a look. ‘What's the gift?'

‘A servant!' said Baboo Nob Kissin, beaming. ‘He will look after your good self during voyage. You must at once bag this golden opportunity.'

Inclining his head towards the hackery-garee, Baboo Nob Kissin clapped his hands. ‘There – look!'

Turning to the carriage now, Zachary saw, to his astonishment, that a boy had climbed out of it and was looking expectantly in his direction. He was dressed in pyjamas, slippers and a long, white tunic, bound at the waist by a cummerbund – the usual garb of a khidmatgar – but the lad could not have been more than ten years old. He was too young for a turban even, and had only a narrow
bandhna around his forehead, to hold back his long black hair.

‘Hell and scissors, Baboo!' Zachary cried in outrage. ‘How's he going to be my servant? He's just a gilpy of a boy. It's I who'll be feeding him and swabbing his ass.'

‘Arré baba, he may be young,' said Baboo Nob Kissin, in a soothing tone, ‘but he is attentive and diligent. Clean and healthy also – tongue is clear so motions must be regular. Eating-sheating also not too much. Whatever you ask he will do – make bed, give bath, press foot. You can just sit back and enjoy. He will adjust very well on you; he will be topping khidmatgar.'

‘God dammit, Baboo! I don't need a topping kid-mutt-whatever.'

The expression on Baboo Nob Kissin's face now changed to one of earnest entreaty as he explained the boy's predicament: ‘Father has expired and prospects are dim in Calcutta. Mother is very poor. If he remains here then child-lifters may catch hold of him. That is why he wants to go to Macau – his father's co-brother is working there. He is my friend so that is why I must provide assistance.'

Something about this didn't seem right to Zachary. ‘But I don't understand, Baboo,' he said. ‘If the boy's uncle is your friend then why isn't he shipping out with you, on the
Ibis?'

‘Mr Chillingworth may not permit, no?' said the gomusta. ‘That is why I am requesting you only. It will not be much trouble for you, Master Zikri. After you get to China you can wash your hands with him and dispose him off to uncle. Meanwhile he will happily work as khidmatgar for you – salary also is not necessary. He is extremely helpful, suitable for all donkey-works. Talkative in English also.'

Still unpersuaded, Zachary continued to protest. ‘But listen, Baboo – where's he going to blow the grampus? There won't be room for him to bunk down in my cabin.'

‘No problem,' said the gomusta. ‘You can put in your bedding. No formalities.'

‘Fuckin'ell!' Zachary spluttered. ‘I'm not going to take no nipper into my bed!'

Baboo Nob Kissin carried on undeterred. ‘Arré baba, he is a little fellow, no? He can lie on the floor even, no problem. If he makes a mischief you can shoe-beat. Just think of it as commission, for me, because of help I have given to you.'

This was an argument that could not be gainsaid. ‘Well, if you put it like that …'

Zachary beckoned to the boy and was somewhat encouraged when he came skipping up the gangplank as though he had been doing it all his life: at least he was nimble on his feet, not a clumsy landlubber. He was a lively-looking fellow too, with a sharp, expressive face. Despite himself, Zachary liked the cut of his jib.

‘What's your name?'

‘Raj Rattan, sir,' he said in a clear voice. ‘But everyone calls me Raju.'

‘You sure you want to go all the way to China?'

‘Yes, sir!' cried the boy, his eagerness plainly visible in his shining eyes. ‘Please, sir.'

‘Oh all right then!' said Zachary. ‘I'll give it a try and see if it works out between us. Go git your things.'

The boy ran to the gharry and jumped in, leaving the door ajar. Zachary saw now that there was a woman inside: her head was hooded by her sari and he could not see her face.

‘Who's that?' he said to Baboo Nob Kissin.

‘Boy's mother only. Has come for leave-taking purposes.'

For a minute or two the woman clutched the boy to her chest; from the angle of her head, it was clear that she was weeping. Then the boy whispered in her ear and she let go of him; he jumped out and came running back to the budgerow, with a small bundle slung over his shoulder. On reaching the top of the gangplank, he turned to look back at the carriage, where a glimmer of his mother's sari could still be seen, in the crack of a window.

‘All will be well,' Baboo Nob Kissin said to Zachary. ‘Do not worry. He is a good boy.'

‘I sure hope so,' Zachary growled, ‘or I'll bring him to his bearings soon enough.'

In the midst of all this, Zachary had forgotten about his letter to Paulette. It was Baboo Nob Kissin who reminded him: ‘And the letter for Miss Lambert? Better to give now since I will weigh anchors early tomorrow.'

‘Here it is,' said Zachary, handing it over. ‘Please give it to Miss Lambert with my compliments.'

‘Do not fear, dear sir; it will arrive with blessings-message.'

‘And have a good voyage, Baboo.'

‘You too, Master Zikri – the
Hind
will come to Calcutta soon. It will not be long before we are reunited in China.'

‘I guess. Goodbye, Baboo.'

After the carriage had rolled away, Zachary turned to the boy and raised an eyebrow: ‘What the hell am I going to do with you, kid-mutt?'

With a cheerful smile the boy said: ‘Don't worry, sir. There will be no problem.'

Surprised by his fluency Zachary said: ‘Say, kid-mutt – where'd you learn English?'

The boy answered without hesitation: ‘My father was a khid-matgar in an English house, sir; they taught us.'

‘Did a good job too. You'd better take your things inside.'

Now again the boy surprised Zachary, because he seemed to know exactly where to go.

‘Hey, kid-mutt – you ever been on this boat before?'

‘Why no, sir,' said Raju quickly. ‘Never. But I have been on other budgerows.'

Zachary was glad to hear this. ‘Good. So you'll be able to look after yourself then?'

‘Yes I will, sir. Please don't worry about me. I will manage.'

The boy was as good as his word. Zachary saw no more of him till the next morning, when he went up to the budgerow's upper deck to watch the
Ibis
setting off for China, with a steam-tug towing her downriver.

Raju was already there and they both waved as the
Ibis
sailed by.

Afterwards Zachary noticed that Raju had a paper kite in his hands.

‘Hey, where'd you find that, kid-mutt?'

‘It was in my cabin, sir,' said the boy. ‘Someone had hidden it under the bunk.'

*

Within a day of leaving Bombay, the
Hind
ran into choppy weather. Many of the passengers were prostrated by sea-sickness but Shireen was an exception. On Rosa's advice she chewed on a piece of fresh ginger and experienced no discomfort. The next day, heeding Rosa
again, she changed into ‘English' clothes. In practical terms the difference was not as great as she had been led to expect – but yes, she had to admit that her plain-cut black dress was indeed a little easier to manage than her sari had been. She was able to take several turns around the deck and the air was so exhilarating that she was loath to go back inside. After that, whenever the sun was up and the ship was not pitching too wildly she would step outside to pace the deck. She loved the feel of the wind in her hair and the touch of spindrift on her face.

The coast of northern Ceylon appeared off the
Hind'
s port bow after five days at sea. No sooner had the island been sighted than a strange fear took hold of Shireen: she began to wonder whether Zadig Bey would indeed join the ship as he had promised. There were no grounds for this concern – Vico had assured her that Zadig Bey was a man of his word – but somehow Shireen persuaded herself that something would go wrong and he wouldn't appear.

When Colombo was sighted she hurried up to the quarter-deck, hoping to get a glimpse of the city. But a disappointment was in store: it turned out that Colombo, for all its fame as a port, did not have a proper harbour; ships had to anchor at a roadstead, well out to sea. That was where they were provisioned and unloaded, by flotillas of bumboats, bandar-craft and lighters.

All that Shireen could see of the city was a distant smudge, and this too fuelled her anxiety. She stayed on deck, scanning the waters, examining every bandar-boat that approached the ship – and it was not till she spotted Zadig Bey, sitting in the prow of a lighter, that her fears were finally set at rest.

Now Shireen became anxious about what people would think if they knew that her rendezvous with Zadig had been pre-arranged. She retreated quickly to her stateroom and did not emerge again until later in the day. When she ran into Zadig she feigned surprise, and to her great relief he responded in kind: ‘Is that you, Bibiji? How amazing! What a coincidence!'

Later, when they were taking a turn around the maindeck, she thanked him for humouring her but he shrugged her words off with a laugh. ‘I assure you, Bibiji – I was not pretending. My surprise was real.'

‘But why?' she said. ‘You knew I would be on this ship, didn't you?'

‘Well frankly, I wasn't sure you would go through with it, Bibiji,' said Zadig. ‘And besides I didn't expect to find you looking so much at home here – walking around without a veil, dressed like a memsahib and smiling at everyone.'

She blushed and quickly changed the subject, asking him if he had received any more news from China.

‘Yes, Bibiji,' said Zadig with a smile. ‘I had written to a friend of mine in Macau, asking him to find a place for you to rent. I received a letter from him a few days ago: you will be glad to know that he has found a nice house for you, in the centre of town.'

‘Really? And who is this friend?'

‘His name is Robin Chinnery, Bibiji.'

‘Does he live in Macau?'

‘He used to, but of late he has been helping some botanist friends with their nursery, at Hong Kong.'

After that, when the
Hind
set sail again, Shireen and Zadig began to take their walks together, on deck. One day Zadig said: ‘Do you know, Bibiji, this is how your late husband and I became friends? We used to walk together on the deck of a ship, the
Cuffnells
. Bahram-bhai loved to promenade on deck.'

Shireen had no inkling of this. It seemed unfair to her that Zadig should know so much about her husband and her family when she knew next to nothing about him.

‘Tell me about Colombo, Zadig Bey,' she said. ‘Are your children there too? Your family?'

Zadig fell in step beside her, with his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Yes, Bibiji, my son and daughter live in Colombo too. They are both married, with children of their own – they are all I have by way of family.'