Sea of Poppies (39 page)

In the dining room, where the men had gathered around the host's end of the table, Mr Burnham's offer of a cigar was politely declined by Captain Chillingworth. ‘Thank you, Mr Burnham,' said the Captain, reaching for a candlestick, ‘but I prefer my buncuses, if it's all the same to you.'

‘As you please,' said Mr Burnham, pouring a glass of port. ‘But come now, Captain: give us the news from Canton. Does it appear that the celestials will see reason before it is too late?'

The Captain sighed: ‘Our friends in the English and American factories do not think so. Almost to a man they believe that a war with China is inevitable. Frankly, most of them welcome the prospect.'

‘So the Chuntocks are still set, are they,' said Mr Burnham, ‘on putting a stop to the trade in opium?'

‘I am afraid so,' said the Captain. ‘The mandarins do indeed seem quite set in their course. The other day, they beheaded some half-dozen opium-sellers, right at the gates of Macao. Strung up the bodies in full public view, for everyone to see, Europeans included. It's had an effect, no doubt about it. In February the price of the best Patna opium had sunk to four hundred and fifty dollars a chest.'

‘Good God!' said Mr Doughty. ‘Was it not twice that last year?'

‘So it was.' Mr Burnham nodded. ‘You see, it's clear now – the Long-tails will stop at nothing to drive us out of business. And they'll succeed too, no doubt about it, unless we can prevail upon London to fight back.'

Mr Justice Kendalbushe broke in, leaning across the table: ‘But tell me, Captain Chillingworth: is it not true that our representative in Canton, Mr Elliott, has had some success in persuading the mandarins to legalize opium? I've heard it said that the mandarins have begun to consider the benefits of free trade.'

Mr Doughty laughed. ‘You are too optimistic, sir. Damned hardheaded gudda is Johnny Chinaman. Not a chance of changing his mind.'

‘But what the judge says is not unfounded,' said the Captain quickly. ‘There's a party in Pekin that is rumoured to be in favour of legalization. But the word is that the Emperor's shrugged them off and decided to destroy the trade root and branch. I'm told he's appointed a new governor to do the job.'

‘We should not be surprised,' said Mr Burnham, looking around the table in satisfaction, with his thumbs hooked in his lapels. ‘Certainly I am not. I knew from the start it would come to this. Jardine and Matheson have said so all along, and I'm of the same mind. No one dislikes war more than I do – indeed I abhor it. But it cannot be denied that there are times when war is not merely just and necessary, but also humane. In China that time has come: nothing else will do.'

‘Quite right, sir!' said Mr Doughty emphatically. ‘There is no other recourse. Indeed, humanity demands it. We need only think of the poor Indian peasant – what will become of him if his opium can't be sold in China? Bloody hurremzads can hardly eat now: they'll perish by the crore.'

‘I fear you are right,' said Justice Kendalbushe gravely. ‘My friends in the Missions are agreed that a war is necessary if China is to be opened up to God's word. It's a pity, of course, but it's best to get it over and done with.'

Eyes twinkling, Mr Burnham looked around the candlelit table: ‘Since we are all agreed, gentlemen, perhaps I can share a bit of news that has just come my way? In the strictest confidence, of course.'

‘Of course.'

‘Mr Jardine has written to say that he has prevailed on the Prime Minister at last.'

‘Oh, is it true then?' cried Mr Justice Kendalbushe. ‘Lord Palmerston has agreed to send a fleet?'

‘Yes,' Mr Burnham nodded in confirmation. ‘But fleet is perhaps too grand a word. Mr Jardine reckons that no great show of force will be needed to overwhelm China's antique defences. A few frigates, perhaps, and a couple of dozen merchantmen.'

‘Shahbash!' cried Mr Doughty, with a handclap. ‘So war it is then?'

‘I think we can take it as a certainty now,' said Mr Burnham. ‘I'm sure there'll be some pretence of a palaver with the Celestials. But it will all come to naught – we can depend on the Long-tails for that. And then the fleet will go in and wrap it all up in short order. It'll be the best kind of war – quick and inexpensive with the outcome never in doubt. Won't need more than a handful of English troops: a couple of sepoy battalions will get it done.'

Mr Doughty gave a stomach-shaking laugh. ‘Oh that's for sure! Our darkies will rout the yellowbellies in short order. It'll be over in a couple of weeks.'

‘And I shouldn't be surprised,' said Mr Burnham, stabbing the air with his cigar, ‘if there's cheering in the streets of Canton, when the troops go marching in.'

‘That's a pucka certainty,' said Mr Doughty. ‘The Celestials will be out in force, lighting up their joss-sticks. Ooloo though he might be in some ways, Johnny Chinaman knows a good thing when he sees it. He'll be delighted to be rid of his Manchu tyrant.'

Zachary could no longer hold himself aloof from the excitement that was simmering around the table. He broke in to ask Mr Burnham: ‘When do you think the fleet will be ready, sir?'

‘I believe two frigates are already on their way,' said Mr Burnham. ‘As for the merchantmen, Jardine and Matheson's ships will begin assembling soon, as will ours. You'll be back in plenty of time to join in.'

‘Hear, hear!' said Mr Doughty, raising his glass.

Captain Chillingworth alone seemed to be unaffected by the high spirits and general good cheer: his silence having grown too pronounced to be ignored, Mr Justice Kendalbushe bestowed a kindly smile on him: ‘A great pity, Captain Chillingworth, that your
health will not permit you to join the expedition. No wonder you are gloomy. In your place I would be sorry too.'

Suddenly Captain Chillingworth bristled. ‘Sorry?' His voice was emphatic enough to startle everyone. ‘Why, no: I am not sorry in the least. I have seen enough of such things in my time; I can well do without another round of butchery.'

‘Butchery?' The judge blinked in surprise. ‘But Captain Chillingworth, I am sure there will be no more killing than is strictly necessary. There is always a price, is there not, for doing good?'

‘ “Good”, sir?' said Captain Chillingworth, struggling to pull himself upright in his chair. ‘I am not sure whose good you mean, theirs or ours? Though why I should include myself in your number I cannot think – heaven knows that very little good has come to me from my doings.'

Two bright spots of colour rose to the judge's cheeks as he absorbed this. ‘Why, Captain,' he said sharply. ‘You do credit neither to yourself nor to us. Is it your implication that no good will come of this expedition?'

‘Oh it will, sir; there's no denying that.' Captain Chillingworth's words emerged very slowly, as if they had been pulled up from a deep well of bitterness. ‘I am sure it will do a great deal of good for some of us. But I doubt I'll be of that number, or that many Chinamen will. The truth is, sir, that men do what their power permits them to do. We are no different from the Pharaohs or the Mongols: the difference is only that when we kill people we feel compelled to pretend that it is for some higher cause. It is this pretence of virtue, I promise you, that will never be forgiven by history.'

Here Mr Burnham intervened by placing his glass forcefully on the table. ‘Well, gentlemen! We can't keep the ladies waiting till we've solved every problem in the world; it's time we joined them.'

An outburst of relieved laughter broke the awkwardness, and the men rose to their feet and began to file out. Zachary was the last through the door, and he stepped out to find the host waiting for him. ‘You see, Reid,' Mr Burnham whispered, placing an arm around his shoulder; ‘you see why I'm worried about the Captain's judgement? Much will depend on you, Reid.'

Zachary could not help being flattered. ‘Thank you, sir,' he said. ‘You can trust me to do my best.'

Mrs Doughty's eyes twinkled as she looked at Paulette, over the rim of her cup. ‘Well, my dear!' she said. ‘You've certainly worked a bit of jadoo tonight.'

‘I pray your pardonne, Madame?'

‘Oh, don't think you can play the gull with me!' cried Mrs Doughty, wagging a finger. ‘I'm sure you noticed, didn't you?'

‘Noticed what, Madame? I do not follow.'

‘Didn't you dekko? How he wouldn't touch his ortolans and hardly tasted the foogath? Such a waste! Asked ever so many questions too.'

‘Who, Madame?' said Paulette. ‘Of whom do you speak?'

‘Why, Justice Kendalbushe, of course: you've certainly scored quite a hit there! Couldn't take his eyes off you.'

‘Justice Kendalbushe!' cried Paulette in alarm. ‘Did I do something wrong Madame?'

‘No, you silly bandar,' said Mrs Doughty, tweaking her ear. ‘Not at all. But I'm sure you noticed, didn't you, how he jawaub'd the dumbpoke and sniffed at the peacock? It's always a sign, I say, when a man won't eat. I can tell you, dear, he was all a-chafe every time you turned to talk to Mr Reid!' She went prattling on, leaving Paulette ever more convinced that the judge had spotted her using the wrong fork or an inappropriate knife, and was sure to report the solecism to Mrs Burnham.

To make things worse, when the door opened to admit the men, the judge headed straight over to Paulette and Mrs Doughty and proceeded to deliver a homily on the subject of gluttony. Paulette pretended to listen although all her senses were focused on Zachary's unseen presence, somewhere behind her. But between Mrs Doughty and the Captain, there was no getting away until the evening was all but over. It was only when the guests were taking their leave that Paulette was able to speak with Zachary again. Despite her efforts to remain collected, she found herself saying, with much greater vehemence than she had intended: ‘You will look after him, won't you – my Jodu?'

To her surprise, he answered with an intensity that seemed to match her own. ‘You can be sure I will,' he said. ‘And should there be anything else I can do, Miss Lambert, you need only ask.'

‘You must be careful, Mr Reid,' said Paulette, playfully. ‘With a name like Zikri you may be held to your word.'

‘And gladly too, Miss,' said Zachary. ‘You can call on me for sure.'

Paulette was touched by the sincerity of his tone. ‘Oh Mr Reid!' she cried. ‘You have already done too much.'

‘What have I done?' he said. ‘I've done nothing, Miss Lambert.'

‘You have kept my secret,' she whispered. ‘Perhaps you cannot conceive what that means in this world I live in? Look around you, Mr Reid: do you see anyone here who would for a moment believe that a memsahib could think of a native – a servant – as a brother? No: the worst possible imputations would be ascribed.'

‘Not by me, Miss Lambert,' said Zachary. ‘You can be sure of that.'

‘Really?' she said, looking him full in the eyes. ‘It does not seem uncroyable to you that a bond so intimate and yet so innocent should exist between a white girl and a boy of another race?'

‘Not at all, Miss Lambert – why, I myself . . .' Zachary suddenly began to cough into his fist, cutting himself short. ‘I assure you, Miss Lambert, I know of many, much stranger things.'

Paulette sensed that he had something to add, but now there was a sudden interruption, caused by a thunderous detonation. In the awkward silence that followed, nobody glanced in the direction of Mr Doughty, who was examining the knob of his cane with an air of pretended nonchalance. It fell to Mrs Doughty to make an attempt to retrieve the situation. ‘Ah!' she cried, clapping her hands cheerily together. ‘The wind is rising and we must make sail. Anchors aweigh! We must be off!'

M
any days passed with no word being received about when exactly Neel was to be moved to the jail at Alipore, where convicts were usually sent to await transportation. In the meanwhile, although he was allowed to remain in his former apartment at Lalbazar, the change in his circumstances was made evident to him in dozens of different ways. No longer was he allowed visitors at all times, and days went by when he met with no one at all; the constables who stood guard at his door no longer exerted themselves to provide him with diversions; their manner, once obsequious, now became gruff and surly; at night they took to chaining his doors and he was not allowed to leave his rooms without shackles on his wrists. No longer was he waited on by his own servants, and when he complained of an accumulation of dust in his rooms, the constable on guard answered by asking if he would like to be brought a jharu, so he could do the job for himself. If it were not for the mockery in the man's voice, Neel might have said yes, but instead he shook his head: It's just a few days more, isn't it?