Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

Jodu had found the garments below a deck-plank; after helping Neel into the boat he reached under the plank again and pulled out some more clothes, for Neel. He also came upon a jar of drinking water and some fried pancakes. The pancakes were stale but edible; Jodu devoured two of them before pushing the boat away from the shore.

Their way was lit by fires, kindled by the British gun-boats: blazing war-junks lay slumped over on their beams; the embers of shattered gun-emplacements smouldered on the river’s banks; on a small island trees flamed like torches. Jodu kept to the shadows and was careful to feather the oars so the boat glided along with scarcely a sound.

At Whampoa Roads a British corvette could be seen, in the flickering light of burning houses. The vessel was riding at anchor, her looming silhouette pregnant with menace, her guns swivelling watchfully. Along the edges of the waterway hundreds of boats were slipping through, heading in the direction of Guangzhou. Such was the panic that nobody paid Jodu or the sampan any notice.

As they drew closer to Guangzhou the signs of destruction multiplied. At the approaches to the city two island fortresses were on fire. Abreast of each was a British warship. The vessels had created such fear that people were pouring out of their homes, jamming the roadways.

Approaching the Ocean Banner Monastery they found a steamer anchored off it, abreast of the Thirteen Factories. On both shores people were milling about in large numbers; in the midst of the confusion no one noticed as Neel staggered through the monastery’s gates, leaning heavily on Jodu.

*

For ten days after the Battle of the Tiger’s Mouth the Bengal Volunteers remained in the vicinity of Chuenpee, on their transport vessel. Through that time they were constantly on the alert. Even though all Chinese troops had been withdrawn from the area new threats appeared every day: there were random attacks by bandits and villagers; some British units lost stragglers while patrolling ashore; there were rumours of camp-followers and lascars being kidnapped and killed.

As a result the men of B Company became impatient to return to their camp at Saw Chow. But instead the opposite happened: the troops who had proceeded up the Pearl River earlier were withdrawn and sent back to Hong Kong, and the Bengal Volunteers were ordered to move forward to Whampoa.

When it came to be learnt that the Hind was to sail upriver, there was much swearing and cursing. Only Raju was pleased: he knew that Whampoa was close to Canton and he imagined that if he could but get to the city his father would miraculously appear.

But on arriving at Whampoa Raju saw that nothing much was to be expected of it. It was just a way-station on the river, ringed by small townships and villages: it reminded Raju of the Narrows at Hooghly Point, where ships and boats often anchored on their way to and from Calcutta. The worst part of it was that nothing could be seen of Canton — and nor was there anything of interest nearby except a few pagodas and temples.

The boys’ first excursion ashore ended at one of those temples. It was like no temple that Raju had ever seen, with its hanging coils of incense and its unrecognizable images — yet there was an air of sacredness in it that was very familiar.

At a certain point Raju succeeded in giving the other fifers the slip. Stealing into a darkened shrine-room, he knelt before the figure of a gently smiling goddess and joined his hands in prayer.

‘Ya Devi sarvabhutéshu,’ he prayed, mouthing the first words of a remembered invocation: ‘Devi, my father is somewhere nearby. Help me find him, Devi, help me.’

*

For Zachary, the excitement of the Battle of the Tiger’s Mouth was followed by several weeks of oppressive tedium. His orders were to keep the Ibis at anchor near Humen, which was occupied by a small detachment of British troops. Other than ferrying provisions ashore and watching for thieves and bandits, there was little to occupy him.

With time hanging on his hands Zachary fell prey to anxiety, especially in regard to Captain Mee. The inconclusive end of their last meeting gave him much to worry about: he had no way of knowing whether the captain had reconsidered his threats or not. To wait for him to make his move would be an error, he knew, and he was impatient to bring matters to a head. But there was no chance of doing that while the captain was at Whampoa and he was posted to Humen.

It became especially galling to remain there after news arrived that trade had been resumed at Canton, as a condition of continuing negotiations. After that British and American merchant ships were seen daily, proceeding upriver to acquire teas, silks, porcelain, furniture and all the other goods for which Canton was famed. To be idling while others made money was exasperating; Zachary soon began to regret the onrush of enthusiasm that had led him to offer his services to the expedition.

One evening, when Zachary was fretfully pacing the quarterdeck, a boat pulled up beside the Ibis . ‘Holloa there, Mr Reid!’ shouted a familiar voice. ‘Permission to come aboard?’

‘Yes of course, Mr Chan.’

It turned out that Mr Chan was on his way to Guangzhou, at the invitation of the province’s new head-officials. ‘You see, Mr Reid,’ he said with a laugh, ‘how the tide turns? The mandarins who drove me from the city are all gone now. The new prefect has decided that he needs my advice. So after an absence of two years, I am at last able to return to my native city without fear of harassment.’

‘You’re lucky, Mr Chan,’ said Zachary enviously. ‘I wish I were going with you — what I wouldn’t give to see Canton!’

‘Have you never been there then?’ said Mr Chan.

Zachary shook his head. ‘No — I’ve been stranded here for over a month and I don’t think I can take it much longer.’

‘Well something must be done about that!’ said Mr Chan. ‘Mr Burnham is in Canton, isn’t he?’

‘So he is.’

‘I shall probably be seeing him,’ said Mr Chan, ‘and I’ll certainly put in a word for you. I’m sure something can be arranged.’

‘Oh thank you, Mr Chan! I would be ever so obliged.’

‘But you mustn’t thank me prematurely,’ said Mr Chan. ‘You should know that my assistance hangs upon the outcome of the little errand that brings me here today.’

‘Of course.’

Zachary couldn’t for the life of him imagine what service he could possibly offer to a man of such consequence; and Mr Chan’s first remark, which was uttered in a casual, almost uninterested tone of voice, served only to deepen his puzzlement: ‘This vessel, the Ibis — I gather she has an interesting history?’

Zachary could see shoals in the waters ahead and chose to answer cautiously: ‘Are you referring to what happened on the Ibis ’s late voyage to the Mauritius Islands?’

‘Exactly,’ said Mr Chan. ‘Am I right to think there was a half-Chinese convict on board? A man called Ah Fatt?’

‘That is correct.’

With a nod of acknowledgement Mr Chan continued. ‘I had been led to believe that this man had died. But it has recently come to my ears that he may instead have washed up at Hong Kong. I gather he has changed his appearance and is using a different name.’

Since no specific question had been asked Zachary did not think it necessary to respond. But his silence seemed to provoke Mr Chan, who removed his hand from Zachary’s shoulder and wheeled around to face him. ‘I should explain,’ he said, in a sharper tone of voice, ‘that this man is of great interest to me, Mr Reid.’

‘May I ask why?’

‘Let’s just say that I have some unfinished business with him, a trifling matter. It would be a great help to me if you could confirm that he is indeed at Hong Kong.’