Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

Zachary caught his breath: it seemed to him that this might be exactly the opportunity he had been waiting for. He went to stand beside the side-ladder and when Captain Mee stepped on deck, he held out his hand: ‘Good evening, Captain Mee.’

Captain Mee’s uniform was stained with sweat and streaks of blood: evidently he had been so preoccupied in looking after the wounded ensign that he had not had time to clean up or change. He seemed barely to recognize Zachary: ‘I take it you’re the skipper of this vessel?’

‘Yes I am.’

The captain peered at him. ‘Oh you’re the …’

Zachary steeled himself for an insult but it never came: instead the captain gave his hand a cursory shake. ‘Good day to you.’

In the meantime the wounded ensign had been winched up from the boat: when his litter landed on the deck of the Ibis he gave a cry of pain.

‘Hold on there, Upjohn,’ shouted Captain Mee. ‘We’ll have you snugged down in a minute.’

The captain’s voice was uncharacteristically mild, almost solicitous; evidently his concern for the young officer had softened the edge of his habitual abrasiveness. Zachary took this as a propitious sign.

‘Badly hurt, is he?’

‘Took a nasty tumble when we were scaling the walls at North Wantung,’ said the captain gruffly. ‘May have broken his back.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir,’ said Zachary. ‘If there’s anything I can do for him please do let me know.’

Captain Mee seemed to thaw a bit. He gave Zachary a polite nod. ‘That’s kind; thank you.’

Zachary hung back while the captain followed the wounded ensign’s litter into the stateroom. When he spotted him coming out again, Zachary stepped into the cuddy.

‘May I have a quick word, Captain Mee?’

The captain hesitated. ‘I don’t have much time.’

‘Oh it won’t take long.’ Zachary held open the door of the first mate’s cabin. ‘Would you mind stepping inside?’

The cabin was very small, illuminated by a single candle. After Zachary had shut the door they were barely an arm’s length apart.

‘What is it then?’

The back of Captain Mee’s head was pressed against the ceiling even though he was standing with his shoulders hunched. The only place to sit was the bunk, with its grimy and tangled sheets; Zachary decided that it would be best for them to remain on their feet.

‘It’s a very simple matter, Captain,’ said Zachary. ‘I wanted to suggest a business proposition.’

‘Business?’ The captain spat out the word as though it were a piece of grit. ‘I don’t twig your meaning.’

‘Captain, I happen to have at my disposal a large stock of provisions, of the kind favoured by sepoys — rice, lentils, spices and so on. My partners and I would be most grateful if you could bring this to the notice of your purchasing clerks.’ Zachary paused to cough into his fist. ‘And of course we would make sure that you were suitably compensated for your consideration.’

A look of bewilderment descended on the captain’s face. ‘What do you mean “suitably compensated”?’

To Zachary the question seemed like an expression of interest and it sent a thrill of excitement through him. The hook was in now and all that remained was to set it.

Picking his words carefully, Zachary said: ‘I am referring to a small token of our appreciation, Captain Mee. I am sure you know that we Free-Traders are very, very grateful to you and your fellow soldiers for the wonderful job that you are doing here in China. Since you’ve had to work hard and face many hazards it’s only fair, surely, that you too should receive a share of the benefits? It seems a shame that middle-ranking officers such as yourself should be rewarded with nothing more than a few paltry allowances’ — here again Zachary stopped to cough into his fist — ‘especially considering that many of your seniors have already received substantial considerations.’

The expression on Captain Mee’s face changed as comprehension slowly dawned on him. ‘Oh, so that’s the bustle, is it?’ he said. ‘You’re offering me a backhander — a bribe.’

‘You mustn’t jump to conclusions, Captain Mee.’ Only now did Zachary realize that he had taken the wrong approach — but no matter, he had other cards up his sleeve.

‘Don’t pitch me your gammon — d’you take me for a muttonhead? I know very well what your fakement is, you spigot-sucking shitheel.’

The captain’s big, heavy-jawed face was contorted with rage now; his fists were knotted and twitching. Zachary took a step back, flattening himself against the bulkhead. ‘Captain Mee, may I remind you that you are on my vessel? You need to get ahold of yourself.’

Captain Mee’s lips curled into a sneer. ‘Oh, don’t you worry about that — if I didn’t have a hold on myself you’d be decked already. But that’s too good for a kedger like you — what I have in store for you is going to hurt a lot more.’

‘And what, pray, is that?’

‘I’m going to blow the dicky on you,’ said the captain. ‘Now that I’ve smoked out your game I’m going to take this all the way to the top; I’m going to make sure you never try your flummery on anyone again. Bilkers like you have been responsible for too many deaths to count — why, between you, you’ve killed more of our men than the Chinese have! God damn my eyes if I don’t see you brought to book, you cunny-lapping cockbawd.’

The torrent of abuse fell on Zachary like a cold shower: far from intimidating him it made his mind quicker. He knew exactly what he had to do now, to bring the captain to heel.

‘Well, Captain Mee,’ he said, with a thin smile. ‘You must do as you wish of course. But perhaps you should ask yourself which is the greater crime in the eyes of the world: bribery or adultery?’

The captain’s eyes flickered, in shock: ‘What the devil do you mean?’

Zachary’s smile widened, in relish. ‘I mean, Captain Mee, that you have far more to lose than I do.’ He paused, so as to add emphasis to what he was going to say next.

‘And as for Mrs Burnham, she stands to lose the most, does she not?’

The captain froze for an instant. Then suddenly a fist came flying through the air and hit Zachary in the jaw. He staggered sidewise, until the rim of the bunk dug into the back of his leg causing his knees to buckle. The next he knew he was lying flat on the bunk and his mouth was full of the metallic taste of blood. Yet strangely the pain was not unwelcome; it seemed to clear his mind and quicken his calculations: he understood that by provoking the captain into losing control of himself he had seized the advantage. He had to make the best of it now.

Rubbing his jaw, he summoned another smile. ‘Mrs Burnham must have had the devil of a time,’ he said, ‘slipping a capote on an ox like you.’

Again he had the satisfaction of seeing the captain reel, as though it were he who had been hit in the jaw. On his big, heavy face there was a look of almost comical disbelief.

‘Oh yes,’ said Zachary, with slow relish. The throbbing in his jaw added immeasurably to the pleasure of knowing that it was the captain who was now helpless in his hands. Zachary smiled again: ‘Mrs Burnham sure has a way with capotes, doesn’t she? I’ll never forget the first time.’

Suddenly Captain Mee’s long limbs began to move, at great speed. Crossing the cabin with one stride he took hold of Zachary’s throat.

This only made Zachary laugh. ‘Why, Captain Mee!’ he said. ‘You seem surprised. All these years that you were wearing your hair-shirt — did you really think she was waiting for you? That you were the only one?’

‘Stubble your whids, you bastard: you’re lying!’