Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

The conditions were particularly hard on Captain Mee, whose mood had taken a turn for the worse ever since the day of the fighting around the Tiger’s Mouth. The change was particularly striking, or so it seemed to Kesri, because at the start of the operation he had seemed still to be riding on the high spirits in which he had returned from his sojourn at Macau. But from the time of his visit to the Ibis , to drop off the wounded ensign, he had fallen into a black humour: Kesri had thought at first that it was just that he was distressed to see the young ensign’s career ending so sadly and suddenly. But he soon realized that it could not be that alone, that something else had happened to make the captain brood and fret to this degree; not since the days of his abrupt separation from Miss Cathy, at Ranchi, had Kesri seen him in such a dark state of mind. Now, as the troops sat stewing in their transport vessels, at Whampoa, the captain seemed at times to be almost beside himself with frustration: Kesri had never known him to be as morose and irascible as he was during those three long days.

On the third day the turmoil around the city reached a climax, with the sound of gunfire echoing along the riverfront from sunrise onwards. That afternoon the officers’ daily briefing on the Blenheim went on for an unusually long time. Soon after Captain Mee’s return Kesri received a summons to his cabin. On stepping in Kesri knew at once that they would soon be going into the field: for the first time in days Captain Mee seemed untroubled and at ease. He sounded almost cheerful as he said: ‘It’s on at last, havildar! We’re going to teach the Longtails a lesson they won’t forget.’

A chart was lying open on a desk: following the captain’s forefinger, Kesri saw that the walled city of Guangzhou was shaped like a dome, with its base resting on the Pearl River, to the south, while its apex lay upon a range of hills and ridges, to the north. Sitting finial-like on its crown was a five-storeyed edifice called the Sea-Calming Tower. Opposite the tower, just beyond the city walls, were some hills topped by a cluster of four small forts. Three of these were circular in shape but the largest, which faced the Sea-Calming Tower, was rectangular.

These four forts were lightly defended, said Captain Mee: the Chinese commanders had calculated, no doubt, that if the British launched an attack on the city it would come from the south so they had concentrated their forces along the banks of the Pearl River. But General Gough had prepared a surprise for them, a two-pronged assault. A small British detachment would land at the Thirteen Factories, on the Pearl River shorefront, with the aim of seizing and clearing the foreign enclave. But the main force would continue along the Pearl River to White Swan Lake at the western end of the city, before veering northwards, along another river: it would land well above Guangzhou at a village called Tsingpu. Between the landing-point and the four forts lay three or four miles of farmland: this was a rural area, with only a few scattered villages so no resistance was expected. Once the hills had been scaled and the forts seized, the city would be helpless: a single battery of guns positioned on the northern heights would be enough to control all of Guangzhou.

Some 2,400 fighting men were to be deployed for the operation, accompanied by the usual contingents of auxiliaries and camp-followers. The force would be divided into four brigades: the Bengal Volunteers, with its 112 sepoys, had been assigned to the 4th Brigade which would also include 273 Cameronians and 215 men of the 37th Madras.

‘Any questions, havildar?’

The only aspect of this plan that worried Kesri was the composition of the 4th Brigade: he knew, from his experience with the Cameronians, that they would be none too pleased at having to join forces with sepoy units — there was bound to be some friction.

Other than this he had no concerns: the meticulous planning, the carefully drawn chart and the precise numbers were all reassuring, presaging as they did a set-piece operation of the kind at which British commanders excelled. With any luck the battle would bring the campaign to an end and they would be able to go home soon afterwards, with some decent prize money in their pockets.

‘Embarkation will be when, sir?’

‘Tomorrow, 1 p.m., havildar.’

The lateness of the hour surprised Kesri; it was unusual for a big operation to start so late in the day. ‘Why that time, sir?’

Captain Mee smiled. ‘Have you forgotten, havildar? It’s the twenty-fourth of May tomorrow — Queen Victoria’s birthday. There’ll be a gun salute at noon.’

Kesri had indeed forgotten about the Queen’s birthday. He was glad to be reminded of it, however, for this was one of those occasions when sepoys were entitled to a special ‘wet batta’ of grog.

*

There being no one else to claim Freddie’s body it fell to Zadig Bey and Shireen to make arrangements for his funeral.

They quickly agreed that he would be buried according to Chinese rites; that, said Zadig, was what Freddie would have wanted. As for the site, it was Shireen who suggested that he be buried next to his father.

This suggestion drew a quizzical look from Zadig. ‘But what about Dinyar and the other Parsi seths?’ he said. ‘What will they say about Freddie being buried next to Bahram-bhai? What if they object, because he wasn’t a member of the community?’

‘Let’s not worry about the seths,’ Shireen said. ‘What matters is what Bahram would have wanted. And in death at least I think he would have wanted to give Freddie the acceptance he could not give him in life. It’s only right that Freddie should be buried beside him.’

Zadig did not demur: ‘Yes, that is true — Bahram-bhai would have wanted it so.’

They agreed also that the funeral would be held that very day. The body had been in the water a long time already and the weather being as hot as it was it would not do to put off the interment. In any case the island would be celebrating the Queen’s birthday the next day, and who knew what problems might arise?

Since neither Zadig nor Shireen had any idea of how to organize a Chinese funeral, the arrangements were left to Freddie’s landlord. It was he who found a coffin and pasted yellow and white papers on it; he also hired grave-diggers, a cart and a few professional mourners.

It took a while to get all this done and it was not till late afternoon that the corpse was properly prepared and the coffin closed.

The sun was dipping towards the horizon when the procession set off from Sheng Wan. As they were leaving the village Zadig said to Paulette: ‘Have you had any news from Robin Chinnery?’

Paulette nodded: ‘Yes, he sent a letter recently, from India. He fell very ill in Chusan and was evacuated to Calcutta—’

She broke off to point to the bay, where a longboat could be seen heading towards Sheng Wan. ‘Look, there’s Mrs Burnham.’

The cart was told to go on while Paulette, Zadig and Shireen went back to the seashore to greet the visitor.

Despite the heat and humidity, Mrs Burnham was wearing gloves and a veil, as always, except that they were black instead of white. She was mortified to find the others dressed in light-coloured clothing.

‘Oh good heavens!’ she said, clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘I’ve made an ooloo of myself, haven’t I? I don’t suppose they wear black at Chinese funerals, do they? Should I go back and change?’

‘Oh no,’ said Shireen. ‘I’m sure it’ll make no difference. It’s enough that you came.’

Mrs Burnham gave Shireen’s hands a squeeze. ‘Of course, Shireen dear: I’d have come earlier if I had known.’

The cart was now a long way ahead so they had to hurry after it.