Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

Kesri reached for the satchel that Captain Mee had given him and ran his fingers over the coins: they were worth much more, he knew, than the pension that was due to him.

And then another thought struck him: the other officers were sure to know that Captain Mee had recently received his back pay and allowances; they were bound to search for the money in his rooms and when they failed to find it there would probably be an inquiry.

What would happen if the officers came to learn that Kesri was in possession of a satchel-ful of gold and silver? Would they believe that Captain Mee had given a gift of such value to his havildar?

Or would they find a pretext to take it away?

Kesri could not stand to think of it: to throw the satchel in the water would be better than to lose it to them.

Turning on his side, Kesri whispered to Maddow: Listen — are you awake?

Ji, Kesriji. Do you want some medicine for the pain?

No. I want to ask you something.

Ji, Kesriji.

That day, when that boy disappeared …

Yes?

You helped him, didn’t you? You helped him escape, with those men you were talking to — isn’t that so?

Why do you ask? said Maddow quietly.

I was just thinking, said Kesri, that if you were to speak to those men again, then maybe we could get away too — you and I? Do you think it could be arranged?

*

British-held Hong Kong’s first auction of land was held on 14 June 1841, a fortnight after the storm.

The area on sale was smaller than expected: it consisted of only fifty plots, each with a sea-frontage of one hundred feet, along a stretch of shore on the seaward side of the island’s only proper thoroughfare — the Queen’s Road. The authorities announced beforehand that the currency of the auction would be pounds sterling. But since Spanish dollars were still in wide use a fixed rate of exchange was thought necessary — it was declared to be four shillings and four pence for one silver dollar. It was ordained also that the bidding would start at ten pounds and advance in increments of ten shillings; every purchaser would be required to erect a building valued at one thousand dollars or more, within six months of the sale; as a guarantee of this undertaking, a sum of five hundred dollars would need to be deposited with the treasury as ‘earnest money’.

Although few could afford to meet these terms the event still drew a great number of spectators, from the dozens of ships that were anchored at Hong Kong Bay. Passengers, supercargoes, mates, bo’suns and even cabin boys flocked to Mr Lancelot Dent’s new godown at East Point, where the auction was to be held: even if they couldn’t bid they could at least sniff the scent of wealth.

Presiding over the proceedings was Mr J. Robert Morrison, the Acting Secretary and Treasurer to the Superintendents of Trade. Only a few dozen chairs had been set out, for the turnout was not expected to be large. When the godown began to fill up Mr Morrison issued instructions that only bidders were to sit; spectators would have to stand at the back, in a roped-off enclosure.

Once the bidding started it proceeded briskly. Some of the merchants had already received their share of the six-million-dollar indemnity paid by the Chinese; as a result there were many bulging purses at the auction.

One of the largest lots, a parcel of 30,600 square feet, fetched £265; another even larger lot, of 35,000 square feet, went for £250, its location being less desirable. Very few lots went for less than £25; most fetched well over double that sum. Only one lot went unsold.

The Parsi seths were among the most enthusiastic bidders; between them they acquired no fewer than ten lots. The Rustomjees, a Bombay family, acquired more land than any other group of bidders, amassing no less than 57,600 square feet. Seth Hormuzjee Rustomjee alone bought six lots, a total of 36,000 square feet, for £264.

The second largest buyer was Jardine, Matheson and Co. which acquired three contiguous lots for £565, with a total area of 57,150 square feet. Mr Dent, who had been expected to make an equally big purchase, disappointed the auctioneers by spending only £144, on two lots that added up to a mere 14,800 square feet.

As a special consideration a few prospective buyers were permitted to reserve plots for future purchase. One such was Fitcher Penrose who was unable to attend the auction for reasons of ill-health. Another was Zadig Bey who was in mourning for his godson; although he attended the auction with Shireen, neither of them made a bid.

This was Zadig and Shireen’s first appearance together in public and and many took it as a declaration of their intention to wed. When they entered the godown there were some who held their breath, imagining that they were about to witness a famous contretemps in which Shireen would be dealt the cut direct by her co-religionists.

But they were disappointed: far from shunning Shireen, her fellow Parsis accorded her a warm welcome; soon they were observed to be chatting with each other in a fashion so cordial as to leave no doubt that the seths had reconciled themselves to her remarrying outside the community.

By this time Shireen too had received compensation for her late husband’s losses from the opium crisis of two years before. Most of it she had already remitted to Bombay to pay off his debts; in addition she had sent large sums to her two daughters. But even after these disbursements the monies that remained still amounted to a sizeable fortune, amounting to tens of thousands of silver dollars.

Those in the know were well aware that Shireen was a wealthy woman and many were surprised when she did not join the bidding. Later, when she went to congratulate Seth Hormuzjee Rustomjee he even asked her why she had refrained from making a bid. Shireen’s answer was that she had decided to wait until the slopes of ‘Peaceful Mountain’ were made available to buyers.

Why?

The air was more salubrious there, Shireen explained, and it was her intention to endow a public hospital, in the name of her late husband, Bahram Moddie.

*

At the end of the bidding it emerged that one tract of land, consisting of lot numbers 16 to 20 had been reserved by an unnamed buyer: this being one of the largest acquisitions of the day, there was much excited comment.

Afterwards, when the spectators had dispersed and Mr Dent’s servants were serving champagne to the successful bidders, Mr Morrison was besieged with questions about the buyer’s identity. His protests to the effect that he was not at liberty to say found little purchase with the gathering. The clamour quickly grew so loud that he threw up his hands and cried: ‘This much I can certainly tell you, gentlemen, that the purchaser is amongst us now. If he should wish his name to be known then he will reveal it himself.’

At this a hush fell. It lasted until Mr Burnham, who was dressed in deep mourning, stepped forth and turned to face the gathering. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I am grateful to Mr Morrison for being so scrupulous in respecting my request for confidentiality. It was not in order to create a mystery that I asked him to withhold the name of the purchaser. It is because to reveal it would require another announcement, one that I had deemed unbecoming for a time of bereavement. But it strikes me now that no one would have been more gratified by this disclosure than my late, beloved wife so there is perhaps no reason to delay it any longer.’

Here Mr Burnham stopped to gesture to Zachary who went to stand beside him. Placing a hand on his shoulder Mr Burnham continued: ‘Ladies, gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that the purchaser of lots 16 to 20 is a new entity, created just this week — the firm of Burnham and Reid.’

A round of applause broke out now and Mr Burnham paused until it had died away: ‘It would be remiss of me,’ he went on, ‘if I were to omit to mention another collaboration that we have entered into just this day, an association that will, I am certain, greatly strengthen our new company.’