Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

In any other circumstances Zachary would have been flattered by Mr Burnham’s words. But the successful resolution of his encounter with Captain Mee had given him a new sense of confidence; in these opulent surroundings nothing seemed beyond his reach.

‘I hope you will not mind me saying so, sir,’ he said, ‘but a commission is not what I want.’

‘What do you want then?’ said Mr Burnham, taken aback.

‘What I’d really like, sir,’ said Zachary, ‘is to be a partner in your firm.’

Mr Burnham’s face darkened as he took this in. But then his lips curved into a smile. ‘Well, Reid,’ he said, stroking his beard, ‘I’ve always said that when the spirit of enterprise stirs in a young man, there’s no telling where it will take him! Let’s wait for this campaign to come to an end and then we’ll see what can be worked out.’

Reaching for Mr Burnham’s hand, Zachary gave it a hearty shake. ‘Thank you, sir. Thank you.’

This second success was enough to make Zachary giddy with triumph. But as he was wandering off in search of a celebratory glass of wine, it struck him that his victory was still incomplete and would remain so until Mrs Burnham knew of it. Only when word of it had been conveyed to her would his triumph be complete; there would be a sweet, subtle pleasure in stripping her of her illusions about her knight-in-armour.

The thought brought on a sharp pang of desire, making him hungry to see her again. It struck him now that if he played his cards carefully then she too might be persuaded to yield to him again. It was no more than he deserved. After all wasn’t it she herself who had broken the promise she had made to him? Hadn’t she said that when the time came to end their liaison they would meet one last time, for a night of delirious delight, before saying goodbye?

*

The distraught wavering of Neel’s handwriting, when he learnt of Raju’s arrival in China, was perhaps a better illustration of his state of mind than the disordered jumble of words that he jotted down in his notebook that night.

What happened was this: appearing unexpectedly at the Ocean Banner Monastery, Jodu told Neel that he had spent the last several weeks with Serang Ali, who had been summoned to Canton to help with the preparations for a renewed Chinese offensive.

One of Serang Ali’s tasks was to gather information about British troop and ship movements. A few days earlier rumours had reached Guangzhou that a large British force was to be moved to Whampoa; Serang Ali had been sent to Hong Kong to investigate. While there he had met up with their old comrade from the Ibis , Ah Fatt: he had confirmed that only one company of troops and a single ship now remained at Hong Kong; every other soldier and vessel in the British force had been sent forward to Whampoa and Canton.

But there was some other news too …

This was when Neel learnt, to his utter shock, that Raju had travelled to China and was now at Whampoa, on a ship, with a company of sepoys.

To remove the boy from the ship would be impossible, Jodu told Neel; their best hope of spiriting him away was to wait for the sepoys to come ashore. In Serang Ali’s current crew there were many local men; they would help.

But when will they come ashore?

Maybe very soon, said Jodu enigmatically. For all you know something big may happen soon; maybe even tomorrow.

The date was 19 May 1841.

*

All through the last week the hallways of the British Factory in Canton had been abuzz with rumours of an impending Chinese offensive. Duringthis time Zachary had been busy shuttling between the foreign enclave and Whampoa, transferring Mr Burnham’s goods to the Ibis .

Going back and forth in a longboat, Zachary had been able to observe for himself the renewed military preparations around Guangzhou: a huge encampment of soldiers had appeared at the eastern end of the city; new batteries had been built including a large one near Shamian Island, very close to the foreign enclave; and flotillas of war-junks had gathered inside the creeks that debouched into the Pearl River.

All of this was in plain view — as was the British force that had recently come to Whampoa from Hong Kong, bringing thousands of additional troops: it was led by the seventy-two-gun Blenheim , which towered over every other craft in the anchorage.

From all this and more it was amply clear that both sides were again preparing for war. Zachary was not in the least surprised when Mr Burnham announced, one afternoon, that the Chinese were expected to spring a surprise that night: Captain Elliot had issued instructions for the British Factory to be evacuated; the merchants who were resident there were to move to a vessel that was anchored opposite the foreign enclave. The Nemesis would be nearby, standing guard.

‘I think you had better stay with us tonight, Reid,’ said Mr Burnham. ‘I’ll have to remove all my goods from the factory and that’ll take a while. And the situation being what it is, it’ll be too risky to go back to Whampoa after nightfall.’

A couple of hours went by in moving the last of Mr Burnham’s crates and chests to the longboat. It was almost sunset by the time the job was completed.

A brief ceremony was held in front of the British Factory as the Union Jack was taken down: it was a solemn moment, for the flag had flown atop that mast for almost three months now. Then, along with all the other merchants, Zachary and Mr Burnham were rowed over to a schooner, Aurora , that was anchored off the foreign enclave: this was where they were to dine and spend the night.

No sooner had they stepped on board than Manchu bannermen were seen moving along the waterfront. It was clear that the attack was now imminent.

The guests ate a hurried meal and then gathered on the foredeck. It was a dark, moonless night and the riverfront, usually so noisy, was unnaturally quiet. There were no coracles shuttling between the shores and nor were there any pleasure-boats circling around White Swan Lake. British warships and cutters had been stationed at intervals along the riverfront; their lanterns formed a thin necklace of light in the darkness.

The foreign enclave was dark too, except for the American Factory, where a few merchants had stayed on. Although the British Factory was empty and shuttered its steeple-clock was still working: just as it struck eleven the battery at Shamian Island opened up with a great thunderclap. Seconds later the whole waterfront erupted as bright jets of fire spurted from a string of concealed batteries and gun-emplacements.

The Nemesis was the first to return fire. One by one the other warships followed, unloosing broadsides at the city’s batteries and gun-emplacements. Then, with a great crackling noise, sheets of flame appeared in the surrounding creeks.

‘Fire-raft! Dead astern!’ shouted the Aurora ’s lookout.

Rushing aft, Zachary saw that a blazing boat was heading towards the Aurora . Nor was it the only one — many others quickly appeared, on the river and on White Swan Lake. It was as if a tide of fire were roiling the water.

But the use of fire-rafts had been anticipated by the British commanders: this was why cutters had been positioned along the river. They moved quickly now to intercept the blazing boats; armed with gaffs and poles, sailors pushed them aside, to burn out at a safe distance.

Even as this was going on, British gunships were intensifying their bombardment of the city. The Nemesis too took some hits and her engine was disabled for a while, but her guns continued to fire and the Algerine quickly pulled up alongside to provide support. Between them the two warships unleashed a terrific fusillade at the battery on Shamian Island, and it wasn’t long before its guns fell silent.