Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

As he clung to Maddow’s back Kesri became aware of a searing pain in his thigh. Only now did it dawn on him that his hamstring had been severed — and once he had become conscious of the injury the pain welled up in waves, almost overwhelming him. As if through a fog, he recognized Captain Mee’s voice: ‘Havildar? What the devil …?’ — and he realized he was back with the platoon, in the enclosed centre of a square. On every side of him sepoys were fending off attacks.

‘You’re losing a lot of blood, havildar.’

Through gritted teeth Kesri said: ‘Kaptán-sah’b, you go back to the men. Maddow here will take care of me.’

The captain nodded and his face faded away. Meanwhile Maddow had already slit open Kesri’s trousers.

Bahut khoon ba , said Maddow. There’s a lot of blood; I’d better tie up the cut.

Maddow peeled off his tunic, tore off a few pieces of cloth and bound them over Kesri’s wound. Then he reached into a pocket and pushed something into Kesri’s mouth. In a second Kesri’s nostrils were filled with the grassy, sickly-sweet odour of opium.

It was like an answer to a prayer: at the very smell of the substance the pain receded and Kesri’s breath returned.

In a few minutes Kesri heard Captain Mee’s voice again: ‘How are you, havildar?’

‘Better, Kaptán-sah’b. And the men?’

‘They’re doing their best — but if we can’t get our guns to fire I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to hold off this rabble. They’re everywhere.’

An odd calm had descended on Kesri now and he remembered something he had once witnessed, as a young sepoy.

‘Give me some rain-capes, Kaptán-sah’b,’ he said. ‘Let me see what I can do.’

With Maddow’s help, Kesri fashioned a tent-like covering with a couple of rain-capes. Then he snapped open his Brown Bess; digging a sodden cartridge out of the barrel he told Maddow to find him some dry cloth.

Maddow took off his turban and tore a few strips from the inside, where the cloth was still dry. Kesri took them from him, twisted them into wicks and used them to wipe dry the inside of the barrel. Then he called for Captain Mee and told him to try firing the musket under cover of a rain-cape.

A minute or two later he heard the crack of a musket-shot, followed by cries in the distance.

‘That’ll scatter them for a bit,’ said Captain Mee, ducking under the tented cape. ‘Do you think you could do that again, havildar?’

‘Already done, Kaptán-sah’b.’

As Kesri was handing over the next musket a shot rang out, in the distance, and was quickly followed by another.

‘Percussion guns!’ said Kesri.

‘Yes,’ said the captain jubilantly. ‘I suppose it’s the Cameronians. They must have heard our shot.’

Knowing that help was near, Kesri allowed his head to sink to the ground. By the time the Cameronians arrived he had lost consciousness.

My dear Zachary

I write in haste …

I do not know if there is anything I could do or say to persuade you that I have never meant to cause you pain. If I have seemed cruel or capricious it is only because I knew that there could be no better expression of my love than to set you free, to find your own way in the world. I am, as you know, a foolish, vain, unhappy creature and I wanted to spare you the misery and dishonour that I have inflicted upon everyone I have ever loved. But in that too I was vain and foolish: I understand now that there is only one way in which I can truly set you free –

There is but one last thing I ask of you — that you take care of Paulette, whose hopes of happiness I have also destroyed. You are now well launched in your career and will no doubt achieve great success; for her, things will be much harder. If ever I meant anything to you then you will do for me what I could not do myself: make amends.

I hope also that some day you will come to forgive both yourself and the woman whose unfortunate destiny it was to be

Your

Cathy

May 29, 1841

The British force regrouped quickly once the storm had passed: the units that had gone astray were tracked down and the three brigades then made a hasty retreat to the safety of the four fortresses.

But the confrontation was far from over: the hostile demonstrations continued for two more days, with as many as twenty-five thousand villagers turning out to oppose the invaders; they marched behind the banners of their villages and answered only to leaders of their own choosing.

The British commanders countered by delivering yet more ultimatums to the mandarins, warning that the city would face attack unless the crowds stood down. These threats eventually prompted official intercession and the villagers were persuaded to return to their homes. Only then did the British troops withdraw from the heights above Canton.

Kesri was not aware of these events of the time and did not learn of them until much later: the force was still marooned in the fortresses when the wound in his thigh turned gangrenous; it was there that his left leg was amputated.

Through that time Kesri was aware of very little, having been given massive doses of morphine. But once, during a brief period of lucidity, he realized that Captain Mee was standing by his cot, looking down at him.

When the captain saw that Kesri had opened his eyes, he said, in a shaky voice: ‘Havildar — how are you?’

‘I’m alive, Kaptán-sah’b,’ Kesri whispered.

‘I’m sorry, havildar …’

‘You should not be sorry, Kaptán-sah’b. I am here today — I did not think I would be.’

‘I might not have been here either,’ said the captain, ‘if it weren’t for you. The Cameronians probably wouldn’t have found us in time if you hadn’t got those guns to work. Who knows what would have happened?’

‘We were lucky, Kaptán-sah’b.’

‘It wasn’t just luck,’ said the captain. ‘It was what you did with those muskets that saved us. You should know the CO’s recommended you for a citation, for bravery in the field.’

‘Thank you, Kaptán-sah’b.’

‘Tomorrow we’ll be going back to our transport ship at Whampoa,’ said Captain Mee. ‘From there you’ll be evacuated to Hong Kong. You’ll be well looked after there — I’ve asked them to give you a room to yourself. And the gun-lascar, Maddow, will be accompanying you; he’s specifically asked to go.’

‘Thank you, Kaptán-sah’b. I’m grateful.’

‘It’s no more than you deserve.’

The captain gave Kesri a pat on the shoulder. ‘I’ll come to see you as soon as I get back to Hong Kong. It shouldn’t be too long.’

‘Yes, Kaptán-sah’b. Thank you.’

After that, for several days, Kesri was aware of very little but of Maddow’s constant presence at his side, changing his clothing, cleaning his stump, clearing away his bedpans, giving him his morphine.

One day, in a moment of consciousness, Kesri said: Batavela — tell me, why do you look after me like this? Why did you come back for me that day, when I was cut down? It’s not your job — you’re not a soldier. Didn’t you know you could have been killed?

Several minutes passed before Maddow answered.

Kesri Singhji, he said at last: I did it for your sister’s sake. I knew that if I didn’t I would never again be able to look her in the face.

My sister? Do you mean Deeti?

Yes. Deeti.

It was all clear now; as Kesri drifted out of consciousness again, Deeti’s face appeared in front of his eyes and he knew that she had once again taken charge of his destiny.

*

It was thought at first that Mrs Burnham’s body had been trapped inside the Anahita and would be unrecoverable. But two days after the storm, on the very afternoon that Mr Burnham returned to Hong Kong, the corpse was found at the eastern end of the bay.