Flood of Fire (86 page)

Once the storm broke the crew had no time to check on Mrs Burnham. It wasn't till the ship began to take in water that a serang ran down to the Owner's Suite. He had found the suite's door jammed, perhaps by a piece of furniture: he had pounded on it and on receiving no answer he had gone to fetch an axe. But by the time he returned the ship's stern was already below water, the gangway flooded – he would have drowned if he had stepped in. There was nothing more to be done.

‘But Master Zikri …'

Although Baboo Nob Kissin was leaning close to Zachary now, his voice seemed to reach his ear from very far away.

‘Last night, Master Zikri, before I departed from
Anahita
, Burra Memsah'b gave one letter. For you. She said to ensure that you received.'

‘Where is it?'

‘Here – I have safely kept.'

Withdrawing into a corner, Zachary broke the seal and began to read.

*

The platoon set off with Captain Mee in the lead and Kesri bringing up the rear. As they veered leftwards Kesri handed his now useless musket to Maddow and took his sword in his hand.

The surrounding fields had already turned into a continuous expanse of water; the bunds had disappeared and the only points of orientation were a few clusters of dwellings, dimly visible through the rain. Although nightfall was still a while away the sky was so dark that it was as if the sun had already set.

Hearing a sound behind him, Kesri looked over his shoulder; peering into the failing light he spotted the misted outlines of moving figures. It occurred to him that these might be the Cameronians and for an instant he was light-headed with relief. But then a rock came hurtling through the rain, to hit him in the shoulder, and he knew that they were being followed by the mob.

‘Halt! Halt!' Kesri shouted and in a matter of seconds Captain Mee appeared beside him, sword in hand.

‘They're behind us, sir,' said Kesri – and as soon as the words were out of his mouth Kesri realized that he'd spoken prematurely. The armed men weren't just behind the platoon; they were all around, their outlines enshrouded by rain. Suddenly the pointed head of a pike shot out of the curtain of falling water; it would have pierced Kesri's ribcage if Captain Mee hadn't struck it down with his sword.

Now, as rocks and stones began to fly out of the deluge, Kesri felt something tugging at his ankles and looked down. It was a large hook, attached to a staff. He slashed at it with his sword, breaking it in two. But somewhere to the rear one such staff had succeeded in hooking a sepoy; he had fallen and was being dragged through the mud.

Two sepoys caught hold of the fallen man's arms and pulled him back. When he was on his feet again, Captain Mee shouted: ‘A square! Form a square!'

Sluggishly, fending off brickbats with their arms, the men fell into a square. Standing shoulder to shoulder they thrust their bayonets at every moving shape.

After a few minutes Captain Mee's voice was again in Kesri's ear: ‘We're too exposed here; we have to move. I saw some houses to the left. If we can reach them we'll have a wall at our back.'

Ji, Kaptán-sah'b.

‘I'll lead,' said the captain, wiping his streaming face with his sleeve. ‘You bring up the rear.'

The radius of visibility was no more than a few feet now; only when flashes of lightning streaked through the clouds was Kesri able to see beyond that. When the platoon began to move he kept his eyes fixed on the darkness, moving backwards, sword at the ready.

Projectiles kept raining down on the platoon as it waded through the mud. When at last there was a slight quickening in the pace, Kesri sensed that they were out of the paddies, on level ground. Then he glanced back and saw that a gap had opened up between him and the rest of the platoon: they were already out of his circle of visibility. He would have to hurry to catch up.

Just as Kesri was about to quicken his pace, the pointed end of a spear came hurtling towards him, from the right. He brought his sword down upon the shaft and had the satisfaction of seeing the tip fly off. And then, inexplicably, without his being aware of an injury, his left leg crumpled under him, bringing him down heavily, on his back. A flash of lightning split the sky, to reveal a circle of faces, closing in, with pikes and spears pointed at him.

Kesri's sword was still in his hand and he tightened his grip on it: he knew that his time had probably come but he felt no panic; only a kind of sadness that it should happen here, at the hands of men with whom he had no quarrel; men who were not even soldiers, who were trying only to protect their villages, as he himself would have done back home.

He saw a shadow moving towards him and slashed at it with his sword. Even as his blade dug into flesh and bone he felt an impact in his own flank. He was trying to turn when a pike crashed into his wrist and the sword dropped from his hand. And then, as he lay helpless on the ground, he heard a deep-throated voice calling his name – Kesri Singhji? – and he shouted:
Hã! Yahã!
Here, I'm here!

A bayonet swung out in an arc above him, scattering the faces that had been closing in.

Havildar-sah'b?

The voice was Maddow's.

Kesri answered with a grunt and Maddow squatted beside him, with his bayonet levelled at the darkness.

Hold on to my neck, havildar-sah'b, said Maddow, and I'll pull you on to my back.

Kesri wrapped his arms around Maddow's neck and felt himself being lifted up; then Maddow began to back away, with the Brown Bess circling watchfully in front of him, the bayonet slicing through the darkness.

As he clung to Maddow's back Kesri became aware of a searing pain in his thigh. Only now did it dawn on him that his hamstring had been severed – and once he had become conscious of the injury the pain welled up in waves, almost overwhelming him. As if through a fog, he recognized Captain Mee's voice: ‘Havildar? What the devil … ?' – and he realized he was back with the platoon, in the enclosed centre of a square. On every side of him sepoys were fending off attacks.

‘You're losing a lot of blood, havildar.'

Through gritted teeth Kesri said: ‘Kaptán-sah'b, you go back to the men. Maddow here will take care of me.'

The captain nodded and his face faded away. Meanwhile Maddow had already slit open Kesri's trousers.

Bahut khoon ba
, said Maddow. There's a lot of blood; I'd better tie up the cut.

Maddow peeled off his tunic, tore off a few pieces of cloth and bound them over Kesri's wound. Then he reached into a pocket and pushed something into Kesri's mouth. In a second Kesri's nostrils were filled with the grassy, sickly-sweet odour of opium.

It was like an answer to a prayer: at the very smell of the substance the pain receded and Kesri's breath returned.

In a few minutes Kesri heard Captain Mee's voice again: ‘How are you, havildar?'

‘Better, Kaptán-sah'b. And the men?'

‘They're doing their best – but if we can't get our guns to fire I don't know how much longer we'll be able to hold off this rabble. They're everywhere.'

An odd calm had descended on Kesri now and he remembered something he had once witnessed, as a young sepoy.

‘Give me some rain-capes, Kaptán-sah'b,' he said. ‘Let me see what I can do.'

With Maddow's help, Kesri fashioned a tent-like covering with a couple of rain-capes. Then he snapped open his Brown Bess; digging a sodden cartridge out of the barrel he told Maddow to find him some dry cloth.

Maddow took off his turban and tore a few strips from the inside, where the cloth was still dry. Kesri took them from him,
twisted them into wicks and used them to wipe dry the inside of the barrel. Then he called for Captain Mee and told him to try firing the musket under cover of a rain-cape.

A minute or two later he heard the crack of a musket-shot, followed by cries in the distance.

‘That'll scatter them for a bit,' said Captain Mee, ducking under the tented cape. ‘Do you think you could do that again, havildar?'

‘Already done, Kaptán-sah'b.'

As Kesri was handing over the next musket a shot rang out, in the distance, and was quickly followed by another.

‘Percussion guns!' said Kesri.

‘Yes,' said the captain jubilantly. ‘I suppose it's the Cameronians. They must have heard our shot.'

Knowing that help was near, Kesri allowed his head to sink to the ground. By the time the Cameronians arrived he had lost consciousness.

The British force regrouped quickly once the storm had passed: the units that had gone astray were tracked down and the three brigades then made a hasty retreat to the safety of the four fortresses.

But the confrontation was far from over: the hostile demonstrations continued for two more days, with as many as twenty-five thousand villagers turning out to oppose the invaders; they marched behind the banners of their villages and answered only to leaders of their own choosing.

The British commanders countered by delivering yet more ultimatums to the mandarins, warning that the city would face attack unless the crowds stood down. These threats eventually prompted official intercession and the villagers were persuaded to return to their homes. Only then did the British troops withdraw from the heights above Canton.

Kesri was not aware of these events of the time and did not learn of them until much later: the force was still marooned in the fortresses when the wound in his thigh turned gangrenous; it was there that his left leg was amputated.

Through that time Kesri was aware of very little, having been given massive doses of morphine. But once, during a brief period of lucidity, he realized that Captain Mee was standing by his cot, looking down at him.

When the captain saw that Kesri had opened his eyes, he said, in a shaky voice: ‘Havildar – how are you?'

‘I'm alive, Kaptán-sah'b,' Kesri whispered.

‘I'm sorry, havildar …'

‘You should not be sorry, Kaptán-sah'b. I am here today – I did not think I would be.'

‘I might not have been here either,' said the captain, ‘if it weren't for you. The Cameronians probably wouldn't have found us in time
if you hadn't got those guns to work. Who knows what would have happened?'

‘We were lucky, Kaptán-sah'b.'

‘It wasn't just luck,' said the captain. ‘It was what you did with those muskets that saved us. You should know the CO's recommended you for a citation, for bravery in the field.'

‘Thank you, Kaptán-sah'b.'

‘Tomorrow we'll be going back to our transport ship at Whampoa,' said Captain Mee. ‘From there you'll be evacuated to Hong Kong. You'll be well looked after there – I've asked them to give you a room to yourself. And the gun-lascar, Maddow, will be accompanying you; he's specifically asked to go.'

‘Thank you, Kaptán-sah'b. I'm grateful.'

‘It's no more than you deserve.'

The captain gave Kesri a pat on the shoulder. ‘I'll come to see you as soon as I get back to Hong Kong. It shouldn't be too long.'

‘Yes, Kaptán-sah'b. Thank you.'

After that, for several days, Kesri was aware of very little but of Maddow's constant presence at his side, changing his clothing, cleaning his stump, clearing away his bedpans, giving him his morphine.

One day, in a moment of consciousness, Kesri said:
Batavela
– tell me, why do you look after me like this? Why did you come back for me that day, when I was cut down? It's not your job – you're not a soldier. Didn't you know you could have been killed?

Several minutes passed before Maddow answered.

Kesri Singhji, he said at last: I did it for your sister's sake. I knew that if I didn't I would never again be able to look her in the face.

My sister? Do you mean Deeti?

Yes. Deeti.

It was all clear now; as Kesri drifted out of consciousness again, Deeti's face appeared in front of his eyes and he knew that she had once again taken charge of his destiny.

*

It was thought at first that Mrs Burnham's body had been trapped inside the
Anahita
and would be unrecoverable. But two days after the storm, on the very afternoon that Mr Burnham returned to
Hong Kong, the corpse was found at the eastern end of the bay.

Mr Burnham being prostrate with grief, the arrangements for the funeral were made by Zachary and Mr Doughty. It was decided that she would be buried at the Protestant cemetery in Macau. A coffin was quickly bought and the body was transported the next day. The interment was in the late afternoon and a large number of people attended.

Through the ceremony Zachary kept careful watch for Paulette. But it was only at the end that he caught sight of her: she was at the back of the graveyard, sitting on a mossy tomb, with her face buried in a handkerchief. He stole up on her quietly, so that she would not have time to make an escape.