Flood of Fire (77 page)

Zachary bowed. ‘It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr Chan.'

‘And with you, Mr Reid.'

Mr Chan was as good as his word. At the end of the week a letter arrived from Mr Burnham, to tell Zachary that he had been released from his official commitments. He was to proceed at once to the foreign enclave in Canton, leaving the
Ibis
at Whampoa.

*

For several weeks after the extraction of the bullet from his side Neel was incapacitated by a fever. Of the extraction itself he remembered only that it was performed by a group of Chinese and Tibetan
monks, armed with fearsome-looking needles and instruments. Fortunately he lost consciousness at the start of the procedure and did not regain it until the next day.

After that he would wake intermittently, to find himself lying on a mat, in a small, low-ceilinged room. In one corner lay the books and writing materials he had left behind at the Ocean Banner Monastery, with Taranathji. When he could summon the strength he would read or make notes.

Often he would hear musket- and cannon-fire in the distance; the noise would fade into his fevered dreams. From time to time familiar faces would appear – Taranathji, Compton, Baburao – and if their visits happened to coincide with a period of lucidity, they would speak of what was happening.

A truce had been declared, they told him; British warships were stationed all along the Guangzhou riverfront; steamers and gunboats were roaming the waterways, destroying batteries and gun-emplacements at will, attacking any vessel that aroused their suspicions. In the foreign enclave the Union Jack had once again been hoisted over the British Factory; many merchants had moved in and trade had been forcibly resumed. A very senior officer, General Sir Hugh Gough, had taken command of the British forces and he and Captain Elliot had issued a series of proclamations and ultimatums, demanding that the seizure of Hong Kong be formally ratified by the Emperor; that six million silver dollars be handed over immediately; that the ban on the opium trade be rescinded.

And so on.

But the Emperor was adamant: not only had he refused to make any concessions, he had recalled Qishan to Beijing in disgrace. The Governor-General had been replaced by a new set of officials, one of them a famous general; the Emperor had said to them: ‘The only word I accept is annihilation.'

But on arriving in Guangzhou the Emperor's new envoys had been confronted with the same dilemma that had confounded their predecessors: the British forces were too powerful to be openly challenged – extensive preparations would be required if they were to be repulsed. So they had continued to parlay with the invaders while redoubling their efforts to strengthen their own forces.

Now thousands of fresh troops were pouring into the city, from
other provinces and cities; new vessels, modelled on British gunboats, were being built at secret locations and guns were being cast in a foundry at nearby Fatshan, among them a colossal eighty-pounder.

Everybody knew that it was just a matter of time before war broke out again, this time with Guangzhou as the battlefield. This had caused great alarm, especially among those who lived outside the city walls; thousands had already fled from the suburbs and many more were planning to go. In some areas law and order had collapsed. The influx of troops from other provinces had added to the chaos; rumours were in the air that soldiers from faraway provinces had violated local women. This had led to clashes between the townsfolk and the newly arrived troops. Turmoil such as this had not been seen in Guangzhou since the fall of the Ming dynasty, two hundred years before.

It wasn't long before Neel's friends began to leave. One day Baburao came to the monastery to tell him that he was taking his whole family to Hong Kong. Guangzhou had become too unsafe, especially for boat-people; most of their relatives had already left.

Aar ekhane amra ki korbo?
said Baburao, in Bengali. What are we to do here? In today's Guangzhou there is no place for an eatery like ours.

In Hong Kong Asha-didi would be able to start over again, serving biryani, puris, samosas, kababs and all the other items for which her kitchen was famous; with so many lascar-crewed ships in the bay, there would be no shortage of Indian customers.

The move had been in preparation for a while, said Baburao. Over several weeks he and his sons had secretly transferred their household goods to his junk; they would leave in a day or two.

And the houseboat?

It will lie empty here for now, said Baburao. Maybe we'll come back to get it some day. Then it was Compton's turn to say goodbye. He had decided to go back to his village, he said, but he probably would not stay there long. There was no work for him there; he would have to move to a place where he could earn a livelihood.

So where will you go? said Neel.

Where
can
I go? said Compton despairingly. If I am to set up
a print-shop again I will have to go to a place where an English-language printer is needed.

Such as?

Macau maybe, said Compton shamefacedly. Or maybe even Hong Kong.

You? In Hong Kong?

What else can I do, Ah Neel? Everything has changed. To survive I too will have to change.

A dispirited smile appeared on Compton's face: ‘Maybe from now on we speak English again, jik-haih? I will need to practise.'

When they shook hands Neel said: ‘Thank you, Compton: for everything you've done for me – for all your help.'

‘Don't thank me, Ah Neel,' said Compton. ‘After this maybe it will be you who help me,
haih me haih aa
?'

The one face that never appeared at Neel's bedside was Jodu's. When Neel asked about him he was told, by Taranathji, that Jodu had remained in the monastery for only a few days after their arrival: then a visitor had come looking for him, a sailor from foreign parts – a fierce-looking man with a mouth that was stained red with betel.

Jodu had left with him and had not been seen since.

*

Within half an hour of reaching Whampoa, Zachary was seated in the
Ibis
's longboat, heading towards Canton's foreign enclave. He had heard a great deal about the size and populousness of Guangzhou but when the city walls came into view he was transfixed nonetheless: the ramparts seemed to stretch away forever, disappearing into the sunset sky. He had once overheard Captain Hall, of the
Nemesis
, saying that the two most marvellous sights he had seen in his life were Niagara Falls and the city of Canton: now he understood why.

Zachary's amazement deepened as the
Ibis
's longboat made its way along the city's miles-long waterfront: the sprawl of habitation, the traffic on the river and the sheer density of people was almost beyond comprehension. Grudgingly he admitted to himself that his native Baltimore would be dwarfed by this vast metropolis, even if it were three, four or five times larger than it was.

To find Mr Burnham in this vast honeycomb of a city would be
a devil of a task, he assumed. But when the boat drew up to the foreign enclave he had no difficulty in deciding which way to go: a tall flagpole with a fluttering Union Jack led him directly to the British Factory where Mr Burnham had taken an apartment.

On entering the factory Zachary was handed over to a bowing, gown-clad steward who led him through a series of richly panelled hallways and carpeted corridors. Zachary's eyes widened as he took in the gilt-framed pictures, the gleaming sconces, the tall porcelain vases, the ivory doorknobs, the lavishly painted wallpapers, the thick carpets – the opulence of the place was marvellously seductive; this, Zachary decided, was how he would like to live.

Mr Burnham's apartment too was lavishly appointed, so much so that the luxuries of Bethel seemed modest by comparison. The door was opened by another pig-tailed, black-gowned servant, and Zachary was led through a wainscoted vestibule to a large study.

Mr Burnham was sitting at a desk, enthroned in a rosewood chair. ‘Ah there you are, Reid!' he said, as he rose to welcome Zachary. ‘You've arrived at last.'

‘Yes, sir,' said Zachary. ‘And I'm much obliged to you for making the arrangements.'

‘Oh it was nothing. And you've come not a moment too soon.'

‘Really, sir? Why?'

‘There's a reception this evening in this factory.'

Mr Burnham paused, as if to add emphasis to what he was about to say.

‘A large contingent of military officers will be present.'

Zachary was instantly on the alert. ‘Yes, sir?'

‘I believe Captain Mee is expected.'

‘I see, sir.'

‘I was wondering,' Mr Burnham continued, ‘whether there's been any progress on that little matter that we talked about?'

‘Well, sir,' said Zachary. ‘I did speak to Captain Mee a while ago and I do believe I succeeded in planting a thought or two in his mind. He's had some time to think the matter over – so I should be able to get an answer from him now.'

‘Good,' said Mr Burnham, glancing at his fob. ‘Well we should go then – the reception will have started already.'

Zachary followed Mr Burnham down a flight of stairs to a
mahogany-panelled refectory. A dozen or so merchants had already gathered there and they pounced on Mr Burnham as soon as he stepped in.

‘Burnham, have you heard? The mandarins have moved four thousand more troops from Hubei to Canton.'

‘And a new battery has been built on the Dutch folly!'

‘There can be no doubt of it now – the Chinese are preparing another offensive!'

‘And what I want to know is what in hell is the Plenny-potty doing about it?'

As others joined in the outcry Zachary retreated to the edges of the group, and manoeuvred himself into a position from which he could keep an eye on the door.

It wasn't long before Captain Mee entered, with a group of red-coated officers: he was in full dress uniform, with a sword at his side. Their eyes met briefly as the officers stepped in and Zachary knew, from the way the captain flushed, that he was rattled to see him.

In the meantime Mr Burnham had added his voice to the discussion: ‘I have it on good authority, gentlemen, that General Gough has already issued orders for the troops at Hong Kong to be brought forward to Whampoa. As long as he's at the helm we have nothing to fear!'

‘Hear, hear!'

Zachary listened with only half an ear; his attention was now wholly focused on Captain Mee.

The captain too seemed to be aware that he was being watched and his discomfiture became steadily more evident: he kept mopping his face and fidgeting with his collar. Seeing him drain several glasses of wine in quick succession, Zachary realized that he would have to act quickly if the danger of a drunken scene were to be averted. When the captain drifted away to a window he decided to make his move: he crossed the refectory and stuck out his hand: ‘A very good eveningto you, Captain Mee.'

The captain turned his head slightly and an angry flush rose to his large, heavy-jawed face. A vein began to throb on his temple and, as if by instinct, his fingers began to fidget with the hilt of his sword.

This was a decisive moment, Zachary knew, and he kept his gaze fixed unflinchingly on the captain's face. Their eyes met and locked together; for a long moment it was as if two powerful currents had collided and each were trying to force back the other. Then something seemed to shift and Zachary sensed that he had only to keep his nerve in order to prevail; without dropping his eyes he repeated, ‘Good evening, Captain Mee,' and again thrust his hand at him.

And now at last the captain brushed a hand across Zachary's fingertips. ‘Good evening.'

Zachary smiled. ‘It's always a pleasure to see you, Captain.'

The captain turned away with a grunt. ‘What the devil do you want?'

‘I was wondering,' said Zachary evenly, ‘whether you'd given any thought to my proposal?'

The captain's chin snapped up and his eyes flashed in anger.

Zachary returned his stare with an unperturbed smile. ‘We must recall, mustn't we, Captain Mee,' he said, ‘exactly what is at stake, for yourself and others – especially a certain lady?'

The veiled threat hung between them for a second or two while Captain Mee struggled for words. Then, in a low, gruff voice, he mumbled: ‘What do you require of me?'

At that a warm exultancy surged up in Zachary: he knew that he had won, that he had bent the captain to his will. He had suspected that the captain's truculence was an expression not of strength but of insufficiency and this was now confirmed; Zachary understood that outside soldiering Captain Mee was at a loss to deal with the world and expected only failure and defeat. That he should capitulate to a bluff; that he should so readily abase himself to protect the woman he loved – all this seemed laughable to Zachary: how weak they were, these childlike, bumbling warriors, with all their talk of honour and conviction. It was all he could do not to gloat.

‘We mustn't worry about the details, Captain,' he said. ‘It's the principle that matters and I'm glad we find ourselves in agreement on that.'

Zachary stuck out his hand again and this time he made sure to give the captain's reluctantly proffered fingers a hearty shake. ‘It will be a pleasure doing business with you, Captain.'

As he turned away, Zachary heard the captain mumble, ‘Go to hell,' and was tempted to laugh.

On the other side of the room Mr Burnham was still deep in discussion with his fellow merchants. Zachary made his way over, tapped Mr Burnham on the elbow and led him aside.

‘I've had a word with Captain Mee, sir.'

‘And what came of it? Is he amenable?'

‘I'm glad to tell you, sir,' said Zachary proudly, ‘that he is.'

‘Good man!' Mr Burnham beamed as he clapped Zachary on the back. ‘That's all I needed to know. You can leave him to me now, I'll handle the rest. It's enough that you've brought him around – can't have been easy, I imagine.'