Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

What the Emperor thought of this letter was not yet known, but rumour had it that he was not persuaded by the Commissioner’s arguments. It was even being said that the Emperor had agreed to hand the Commissioner to the British, to face whatever punishment they saw fit.

For Zhong Lou-si and his circle these tidings were like tremors in the earth: it was impossible thereafter to ignore the indications of a coming upheaval in the firmaments of their authority. Every day there were fresh shocks and aftershocks, in the form of reports and rumours, to remind them that the ground was shifting under their feet.

From Compton’s reports it became clear to Neel that a struggle had broken out in the official circles of Guangzhou, with many different factions competing for power. It was evident also that those who were getting the worst of it were the men of heterodox views, like Zhong Lou-si. The traditionalists were in the ascendant now, and as their stars rose a miasma of suspicion came to settle upon those who had advocated or practised the study of foreign affairs, such as Zhong Lou-si and his circle.

Nor was it only officials who were affected by the recent developments. Common people too were beginning to feel the effects of the British blockade of the Pearl River. Rumours of the attacks on Ting-hae, Macau and other cities had started to spread, creating much disquiet. In Guangdong all those who had connections with foreigners — and there were many such in the province — were increasingly coming under suspicion. Everywhere there was talk of han-chien, faan gwat jai and chieng-shang , traitors, rebels, spies and treacherous merchants who colluded with the British.

For Baburao and his family the problem was especially acute: it was now common knowledge that Indian haak-gwai soldiers and sailors were rampaging up and down the coast in tandem with the English faan-gwai . Baburao’s connections with Bengal were well known on the waterfront; it was well known also that Asha-didi’s kitchen-boat catered mainly to Achhas, men from Yindu. This led to so much unpleasantness that she was left with no option but to shut down the eatery.

Then, on a cool autumn evening, two months after the battle at Macau, there was a knock on Neel’s door. It was Compton, looking utterly distraught.

I have some bad news, Ah Neel …

Commissioner Lin had been removed from his post, Compton announced, and that too in a deeply insulting manner. The Emperor had sent a letter to the Commissioner’s deputy addressing him as Lin Zexu’s successor.

In this ignominious way had that great man, Commissioner Lin, been deposed: no forewarning, no notification — just a letter to a junior to indicate that he had been replaced! This was the Commissioner’s reward for his faithful and honourable service to the Emperor!

Neel had never seen Compton so much cast down.

Official confirmation came a few days later: Lin Zexu had been recalled to Beijing in disgrace. He was to be replaced by Qishan who had been appointed Governor-General of the two southern provinces of Guangdong and Guangxi.

The news created a furore in Guangdong where the former Commissioner remained immensely popular. People poured out to express their sympathy for him: wherever he went he was besieged by crowds; people would surround his palanquin and thrust gifts at him — shoes, umbrellas, robes, incense-burners and the like.

Lin Zexu’s fall from grace was a defeat also for Zhong Lou-si, and thus, by extension, for Compton too. They both knew that under the new dispensation Zhong Lou-si’s influence would be greatly reduced: effectively it would mean the undoing of all the work of the last two years.

Neel happened to be present in Compton’s shop one afternoon when Zhong Lou-si came by for an unannounced visit. It seemed to Neel that Zhong Lou-si had aged many years in the last two months; he was leaning heavily on a stick, his expression resigned and careworn. They parted on a melancholy note. Neel would never see Zhong Lou-si again.

The next day Compton went to Lin Zexu’s residence to pay his respects before his departure. On arriving there he learnt that the former Commissioner would not be leaving after all. The Emperor had sent instructions for him to remain in Canton. He was to assist the new Governor-General, Qishan, in conducting an inquiry into his own conduct.

Lin Zexu had become the equivalent of an ancestral tablet, to be taken out and put away according to the needs of the moment.

Now, as Guangzhou waited for the arrival of the Governor-General, the disquiet that had gripped the city was deepened by a sense of drift and uncertainty.

One evening, on his way back to Baburao’s houseboat, from Compton’s shop, Neel was surrounded by a gang of urchins as he stepped off the ferry. The boys began to shout curses and obscenities.

… Yun gwai, faan uk-kei laan hai!

… laahn gwai, diu neih louh mei!

… jihn hai, haahng lan toi!

It was not unusual for taunts like these to be directed at foreigners — or, for that matter, Chinese people from other provinces, or even neighbours from the next village — but there was a note of rage in the boys’ voices that Neel had not heard before. The strange thing was that they had identified him not as a ‘black alien’ but rather as a ‘traitor’: what would have happened if they had realized that he was a haak-gwai ? It was better not to know. What was clear in any case was that Neel could not go back to Baburao’s houseboat: to lead the boys there might create problems for the family. Neel decided instead to head for the Ocean Banner Monastery which was just a little way further.

The urchins’ shouts grew louder and louder as Neel walked towards the monastery. Just as he was stepping through the gates a rock hit him in the back — but fortunately the gang did not follow him inside.

Taranathji was his usual warm, welcoming self. He nodded gloomily on hearing Neel’s story. The mood in Guangzhou was turning very ugly, he said. It wasn’t just foreigners who were being targeted; Chinese people from other provinces were also being set upon by the local citizenry. Such was the situation that the monastery’s Tibetan monks no longer stepped outside.

Taranathji told Neel that he was welcome to remain in the monastery and Neel gratefully accepted the offer. A message was sent to Baburao and he appeared at the monastery shortly afterwards with a bagful of Neel’s belongings.

Baburao was not surprised to hear that Neel had been set upon. He had heard similar tales from friends and relatives; boat-people too were being stigmatized as traitors and spies. The provincial authorities had been heaping blame on their community for their failure to sink British warships. They had thought that boatman ‘water-braves’ would be able to destroy the foreign ships with their special powers; they were enraged that this had not come about.

Kintu amra ki korbo? said Baburao in Bangla. What can we do? Landsmen may believe that we have miraculous powers but we don’t — we are just ordinary folk.

The next morning Neel sent a message to Compton to let him know that he had taken refuge in the monastery. Compton came over to visit and advised Neel to stay where he was until some more permanent arrangement could be made.

A few days later Compton came to see Neel again. He had spoken to Zhong Lou-si, he said, and they had agreed that it would be best for Neel to move to the Cambridge , which was still anchored at Whampoa. He would be safe there since the Cambridge was under the special protection of the provincial authorities; and no doubt the crew would be glad of his services as a translator.

*

Zachary sold his last lot of opium in early December, off the coast of Manchuria. With the Ibis ’s holds now empty he lost no time in turning the schooner around to head back to the south.