Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

The fire from the fort’s guns and ginjalls had grown steadily heavier as Kesri and Captain Mee stood on the crest of the hill, surveying the defences. But the barrage continued to be ineffective with most of the shots going awry, slamming into the hillside and throwing up geysers of dirt. The landing-party’s artillerymen were able to go unhurriedly about their business as they assembled their own field-pieces and howitzers.

At a signal from Captain Mee, B Company’s golondauzes and gun-lascars stepped ahead to set up their own artillery pieces. Maddow was, as usual, carrying two wheels of a gun-carriage; after slinging them off his shoulders he fell in with the other loaders, each of whom was holding a projectile, ready to reload.

There was a moment of stillness as the gun-crews awaited the order to fire. Then a cry went echoing down the line and the golondauzes lowered their smoking fusils to the touch-holes of their weapons. Suddenly, with a great roar, the guns erupted and the hillside was blanketed in black smoke.

In the meantime two steamers, Queen and Nemesis , had also manoeuvred themselves into shelling distance of the battlements on the hill. Now a jet of flame spurted out of the muzzle of the Queen ’s enormous sixty-eight-pounder; at the same time the two pivot-guns of the Nemesis began to rattle, shooting canister. These were powerful anti-personnel weapons — cans filled with musket-balls. When fired, the canisters would explode in the barrel, creating hailstorms of bullets.

It was as if a tempest of fire and iron were pouring up the hill; within minutes pillars of smoke began to rise out of the forts.

*

Shireen was at the breakfast table, eating a plate of akoori, when the first dull thuds of distant cannon-fire were heard in Macau. Dinyar was sitting across from her, and he glanced up with an expression of surprise.

Oh! Seroo thie gayou — so it’s started after all! I didn’t think they’d go through with it.

With what?

The offensive. I’d wagered that the Plenipotty would find some excuse to dither again.

Shireen could think of nothing to say: with trembling hands she reached into the folds of her dress, to touch her kasti, for reassurance.

You should be glad, Shireen-auntie, said Dinyar cheerfully. It’s good news for all of us. It’ll speed up our compensation.

Fond as Shireen was of Dinyar, she could not let this pass.

But Dinyar, think of the men! And the boys too!

Oh they’ll be all right, said Dinyar with a laugh. No harm will come to them — not while they have the Nemesis for protection.

Picking up a bell, Dinyar called for his hat and cane; now that the battle had started he would have to settle his lost wager. On his way out, he stopped at the door. Don’t worry, Shireen-auntie, he said. We’re perfectly safe here. Look!

Shireen saw that he was pointing to the Inner Harbour, where a British sloop-o’-war lay at anchor, bristling with guns.

With Dinyar gone the sound of cannon-fire seemed to grow even louder. Abandoning her breakfast, Shireen went to her bedroom and seated herself in front of the small altar that she had set up in one corner, with a lamp burning under a picture of Zarathustra. Opening her Khordeh Avesta prayer-book Shireen began to recite the ‘Srosh Bãz’ prayer: Pa name yazdan Hormazd … May the Creator, Ahura Mazda, Lord of the Universe …

This prayer had always been her first recourse in times of trouble. Often in the past it had helped to lighten the load of whatever was weighing on her mind — but now, with the sound of gunfire drumming in her ears, she found it hard to recite the words properly. Faces she had come to know on the Hind kept appearing before her: Captain Mee, the fifers, Kesri Singh.

As she was coming to the last lines of the prayer Shireen heard a squeak from the front gate. Thinking that it was Zadig Bey she put away the prayer-book and moved to her sitting room.

But when the steward opened the door it was not Zadig Bey who stepped inside but a woman in a veil.

‘Mrs Burnham! Cathy! This is a surprise.’

‘I hope you don’t mind, Shireen …’

It turned out that Mrs Burnham had just moved into a house that her husband had rented, at the end of the road. But he was away on the commodore’s ship so she was on her own.

‘I thought it would be nice to have a little gup-shup, Shireen-dear, and couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.’

‘Of course. I’m glad you came.’

When Mrs Burnham’s veil came off Shireen saw that she was deathly pale, as she had been on her first visit to the villa.

‘Are you feeling poorly again, Cathy?’

‘No, it’s not that …’ Mrs Burnham closed her eyes.

‘It’s the guns, isn’t it?’

Mrs Burnham nodded. ‘My head went into a chukker the moment the firing began.’

‘It’s distressing, isn’t it?’

‘Well, it shouldn’t be for me,’ said Mrs Burnham. ‘I grew up with cannon-fire, you know. It was always in the background in the cantonments where we lived; artillerymen were forever doing live drills, so the sound was all too familiar. But it’s a different kind of tumasher, isn’t it, when it’s a real battle, and the men who are in harm’s way are known to you?’

Shireen nodded. ‘Ever since it started I’ve been seeing their faces — especially the havildar and Captain Mee.’

‘I have too.’

Mrs Burnham folded her hands in her lap and lowered her eyes. ‘Except that I keep seeing them as they were twenty years ago.’

‘Were they very different then?’

‘Not Kesri Singh perhaps,’ said Mrs Burnham. ‘But Neville — Captain Mee — he certainly was.’

Shireen sensed that Mrs Burnham needed to unburden herself of something. She said gently: ‘Did you know Captain Mee well then?’

‘Yes.’ Mrs Burnham paused and her voice fell to a whisper. ‘To tell you the truth, Shireen, I knew him as well as I’ve ever known anyone.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, Shireen, it’s true.’ Mrs Burnham’s words began to tumble out in a rush. ‘There was a time when I knew Neville so well that I never wanted to have anything to do with any other man.’

‘So what went wrong?’ said Shireen.

Mrs Burnham made a tiny gesture of resignation. ‘My parents …’

There was no need to say any more.

Shireen nodded, in sympathy. ‘Did you not see him again after that?’

‘No. I had lost track of him until the day I came here, to this house, to invite you to the levée. And after that, when he came to the Anahita on New Year’s Day, it was as if kismet had handed him back to me, wiping away all those years. In my heart it was as though not a day had passed.’

She stopped to jerk her head in the direction of the estuary. ‘And now he’s over there — in the midst of the fighting. He was in Macau these last few days and it was the most precious time of my life. I don’t think I could bear to lose him again.’

Opening her reticule, Mrs Burnham took out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. ‘I must seem utterly depraved to you, Shireen. But please don’t think too badly of me; none of this would have happened if I had been as lucky as you.’

‘What on earth do you mean, Cathy?’

‘I mean, if I too had been fortunate in marriage.’

‘Fortunate?’

The word had burst involuntarily from Shireen’s lips but once it was said she too was seized by a need to unburden herself. ‘Oh Cathy — my marriage was not what you think.’

‘Really?’

‘After my husband died,’ said Shireen softly, ‘I discovered that he had a mistress and another family, here, in China.’

‘No!’

‘Yes, Cathy, it’s true. It was a terrible shock to me. I could not believe that he, who had always seemed so devoted, so dutiful and devout, could be entangled in this way with someone from another country, someone who did not share his faith.’