Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

But then came a surprise. Instead of advancing, the British warships pulled back to Chuenpee, to evacuate the men who had gone ashore a few hours earlier.

Evidently the attack had been postponed till the next day.

*

In the evening, after making sure that the sepoys and their followers were properly settled below deck, Kesri met with Captain Mee, to review the day’s action. The captain had suffered a slight wound: his upper arm had been grazed by a musket-ball and he was wearing a poultice, with his elbow in a sling and his raggy jacket hanging off his shoulder.

‘Sorry about your wound, sir,’ said Kesri.

‘Are you?’ The captain grinned. ‘I’m not. It’ll earn me a few weeks’ leave in Macau.’

The tally of casualties on the British side, said the captain, was thirty-eight wounded, with no fatalities. On the Chinese side the toll was estimated to be about six hundred killed and many more wounded. Thirty-eight heavy guns had been seized and spiked in Chuenpee; twenty-five on Tytock. Along with the guns found on the junks and elsewhere, the total number of cannon destroyed amounted to one hundred and seventy-three.

‘Our men did well today, havildar — Major Pratt was full of praise for them.’

‘Really, sir?’

Kesri knew that Captain Mee had long been hoping to have his name included in dispatches. ‘Any mention of you, sir, by the commander-sah’b?’

The captain shook his head. ‘No, havildar — not a word.’

‘Maybe tomorrow, sir?’ said Kesri. ‘There will be another action, no?’

‘I wouldn’t count on it, havildar,’ said Captain Mee. ‘I’m told the Plenipot is under pressure to call off the offensive. I believe a letter has been dispatched to the Chinese commanders explaining the procedures for surrender. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were sent back to our camps so that the higher-ups can go on with their endless buck-bucking.’

This sent a chilly pang of disappointment through Kesri. Now that a full-scale attack had been launched he had hoped that the campaign would at last be brought to a speedy conclusion.

But sure enough, the next morning, a boat with a white flag was seen heading over from Humen to the Plenipotentiary’s flagship.

Shortly afterwards Kesri learnt that the offensive had been called off and the Bengal Volunteers were to return to Saw Chow.

*

Through the night the Cambridge was swept by news and rumours. As the magnitude of the disaster sank in, emotions rose to an extreme pitch, with the Chinese officers and crewmen alternating between rage and numb despair.

When word spread of the role that ‘black aliens’ had played in the carnage at Chuenpee the attitude of the Chinese sailors began to change: the camaraderie that had developed between them and the lascars abruptly evaporated and a new coldness took its place. It was as if Neel, Jodu and the others were somehow responsible for the actions of the sepoys.

The fact that nothing was said openly only made matters worse. Neel was relieved when Compton lapsed into an accusatory outburst: Why, Neel, why? Why are your countrymen killing our people when there is no enmity between us?

But Compton, said Neel, why do you associate us with the sepoys? We are not all the same. Jodu and I could not be sepoys even if we wanted. And why would we want to be sepoys? The truth is that they have killed more people in Yindu than anywhere else.

The one piece of good news that night was that Admiral Guan was still alive — he was feared to have died when the war-junks were attacked. But it turned out that he had managed to escape to Humen.

In the small hours an order was received from the admiral’s command post instructing the Cambridge to move to a new position as soon as possible. Accordingly, when the sky began to lighten, the Cambridge moved away from the island of North Wantung, to the far bank of the channel, where there was another gun-emplacement. There they began to prepare for the impending attack.

At dawn, when three British frigates were seen to be moving up the channel the crew of the Cambridge were sent to their posts. But then, inexplicably, the frigates turned back.

It was not till later in the day that they learnt that negotiations had been re-opened; a team of mandarins was again parleying with the British Plenipotentiary.

Soon it became evident that the British had an additional reason for calling off their attack: no sooner had the talks begun than the ship that was carrying Lancelot Dent’s cargo began to move. Crossing the Tiger’s Mouth, the vessel sailed off in the direction of Hong Kong.

Everyone understood then that the merchant Dent was behind the stoppage in the fighting: he was the mohk hau haak sau — the ‘black hand behind the scene’. He had clearly paid huge cumshaws to the British commanders in order to ensure the safety of his cargo.

You see, said Compton bitterly. This is what happens when merchants and traders begin to run wars — hundreds of lives depend on bribes.

That evening Compton made a trip across the channel, to visit Humen. He came back with momentous news: Governor-General Qishan had capitulated; he had consented to many of the invaders’ demands, including the handing over of a sum of six million silver dollars, as compensation for confiscated opium. He had also agreed to give the British the base they had long been clamouring for: the island of Hong Kong — known as ‘Red Incense Burner Hill’ in Chinese official documents.

A formal understanding to this effect was to be drawn up in a couple of weeks.

*

The effects of the battle at Chuenpee were felt almost immediately at Hong Kong. Overnight, like litter from a faraway storm, swarms of boats began to drift into the bay. These were not shop-boats, loaded with provisions, souvenirs and produce, like those that came over from Kowloon every day. They were dilapidated, bedraggled sampans piled high with household goods — utensils, mats, stoves and clothing. Dogs, cats and poultry could be seen perched on their hooped bamboo roofs; on their prows sat broods of little children, many of them with wooden floats tied around their waists, to save them from drowning if they fell overboard.

It was as if a vast floating population were being carried in by the tides. Every night waves of boat-people would be swept in; in the morning Paulette would wake to find yet more sampans at anchor around the Redruth .

Freddie, who was now a daily visitor to the nursery, was perfectly at home amongst the floating population. ‘They are my people, ne?’ he said to Paulette. ‘My mother also was boatwoman — I was brought up with Dan people.’

But why were they coming over in such numbers? What was bringing them to Hong Kong?

‘Too much trouble for them in Guangdong now,’ said Freddie. ‘Land-people troubling them. They cannot stay, ne? Everyone say Hong Kong will soon be given to British. Boat-people think it will be safer here.’

Soon some of the new arrivals began to move ashore, building huts and shacks, settling where they could. The beach where Paulette’s daily climb began did not long remain deserted. A shack appeared at its far edge one day and within a week a hamlet seemed to have sprouted around it. Although the inhabitants seemed peaceable enough, Paulette was glad when Freddie offered to accompany her on her daily climb to the nursery: she accepted without hesitation.

Meanwhile the British were also expanding their presence on Hong Kong. Every day cutters and longboats would ply back and forth between the island and the bay, bringing over soldiers, sailors, shipowners and sightseers from the naval and merchant vessels that were at anchor around the island. Teams of surveyors would roam over the beaches and slopes, taking measurements and putting down stakes and markers.