Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

I doubted it, but still, I showed the notice to Compton who gave a triumphant shout — Dak jo! — and went racing off to Zhong Lou-si. I heard nothing more about it until today, when Compton made a triumphant announcement: Ah Neel! We have got that ship — the Cambridge!

This is how it happened: apparently the owner of the Cambridge , Captain Douglas, is well-known to the officials of Guangdong Province — he is a notorious troublemaker and has for months been disrupting the traffic on the Pearl River, sailing up and down the estuary, firing at will on fishermen and trading junks. The local authorities had even put a price on his head, of a thousand silver dollars.

These being the circumstances, Zhong Lou-si had guessed that Captain Douglas would not willingly sell the Cambridge to a Chinese buyer. To get around this problem he had enlisted the help of a wealthy Co-Hong merchant, Chunqua. He in turn had persuaded his American partner, Mr Delano, to buy the ship. Mr Delano’s bid had been accepted and the Cambridge had been duly handed over to him. After waiting a few days Mr Delano had sold the ship to Chunqua, who had then presented her to Commissioner Lin, as a gift! The Cambridge is now in the possession of the Chinese authorities who are planning to equip her with a new set of guns.

The deftly handled acquisition has been hailed as a triumph for Zhong Lou-si, said Compton, and my small part in it had not gone unrecognized either. Zhong Lou-si had sent a fine bottle of mao-tai to thank me for having brought the notice to his attention.

It is heartening — and rather surprising! — to see that a high official, and an elderly one at that, can be so nimble in his thinking and so far-sighted.

Zachary was hard at work on the budgerow one morning when he heard a khidmatgar’s voice: Mistri-sah’b! Chitthi! ’

The man had brought over an envelope that Zachary knew, at a glance, was from Mrs Burnham.

January 30, 1840

Dear Mr Reid

I need to see you immediately. Please come to my sewing room at once. I’ve told the nokar-logue that I need your advice on some new pelmets so be sure to bring your tape-measure.

C.B.

Within minutes Zachary was at the sewing room door. ‘Madam? Mrs Burnham?’

He heard her voice on the other side of the door, speaking to a maid, as unruffled as ever: ‘Oh, is it the mystery? Let him in. Chullo!’

The maid opened the door and hurried away. Zachary stepped in to find Mrs Burnham sitting at her sewing table, looking perfectly composed, with her embroidery in her hands.

But the moment the door closed she dropped the frame.

‘Oh Mr Reid!’ she cried, jumping to her feet: ‘Everything has been turned on its ears!’

‘What do you mean, Mrs Burnham?’

‘He is here, Mr Reid! My husband — Mr Burnham! He has returned from China with two ships — the Ibis and another vessel that he has recently acquired, the Anahita . They are anchored at the Narrows, which is some twenty miles away. He has sent a chitty with a sowar — he will be here this evening.’

Zachary stared at her, aghast: ‘Were you expecting him?’

‘No! I had no conception!’ She pressed a fluttering hand to her throat. ‘Oh Mr Reid — and that’s the least of it.’

‘What else then?’

‘You will not credit it — my husband has decided that we must move to China!’

‘To China!’ said Zachary. ‘But why?’

‘He says that a new free port is soon to be created on the China coast. A decision to that effect has already been taken in London. He says that great new opportunities will open up and he must be there to make the best of them.’

‘And your daughter?’

‘She is to remain with her grandparents for the time being.’

Zachary’s head was spinning now. ‘So what does this mean for you and me? Will we not be able to meet after this?’

‘Absolutely not!’ she cried. ‘We can never again meet as we used to. You must not allow that thought to so much as cross your mind. Mr Burnham is fiendishly clever and it is not in your power, or mine, to deceive him while he is here.’

‘So this is it? The end?’

‘Well, Mr Reid, we knew, didn’t we, that it would have to end one day? Apparently that day has come and we must accept it.’

A lump rose to Zachary’s throat.

‘But you promised, Mrs Burnham, that when the time came we would end it properly.’

‘Well it is impossible now, don’t you see? He will be here this evening.’

She put a hand on his arm. ‘Look, Mr Reid — it is as hard for me as it is for you. No — truth to tell, it is much harder for me. I have only my old life to go back to — levées, church, improving causes and laudanum to put me to sleep at night. But you are young, you have your life ahead. You will go on to find happiness with Paulette, or someone else.’

‘Paulette be damned!’ snapped Zachary.

Over the last few months, as his intimacy with Mrs Burnham had deepened, so had Zachary’s feelings towards Paulette grown increasingly rancorous: what was most vexing to him was that she should put it about that he had seduced her, whereas the truth was that his behaviour towards her had never been anything other than honourable. Why, he had even proposed marriage once, only to be rudely rebuffed! If such were the wages of righteousness then he could scarcely be blamed for having turned to adultery.

‘I don’t give a fig for Paulette!’

‘No! Do not say that! Paulette may have made mistakes but she is a good girl — I am convinced of it. She would make a good wife for you.’

Zachary had to fight back an urge to stamp his feet, like a petulant child.

‘I don’t want to marry her! I don’t want to marry anyone.’ A look of concern came over Mrs Burnham’s face. ‘Oh but Mr Reid, of course you must marry, and soon at that, or else your old ailment may again claim you. If any good has come of our connection, it is surely that that chapter is closed. Now that you have cured yourself you must not, on any account, allow yourself to relapse. All the most enlightened men are agreed on this subject — better the bordello than the indulgence of selfish, solitary pleasures.’

‘Surely, Mrs Burnham,’ said Zachary, ‘you are not urging me to resort to knocking-shops and bawdykens?

‘By no means,’ said Mrs Burnham. ‘What I am urging you to do is to conquer the primitive who lurks inside you. We are in an age of progress and in order to belong to it you must destroy everything that is backward in yourself. And I am convinced that if you set your mind to it you will not find it difficult. With hard work, prayer, regular exercise, a soothing diet and cold baths you can surely vanquish the affliction. You must become a man of the times, Mr Reid — you must change yourself. If you succeed the whole world will be at your feet! It is what I expect of you; it is what you deserve.’

‘It’s all very well for you to say so, Mrs Burnham,’ said Zachary. ‘But what I really deserve is for you to make good on the promise you had made to me — about how our connection would end.’

‘Now, now, Mr Reid.’ Her tone had changed now; there was a note of command in it that he had not heard in a while. ‘You’re not a child; you mustn’t make a tumasher of it.’

With a wave of a handkerchief she ushered him towards the door. ‘You must be off before the harry-maids come back.’

For a moment Zachary stood his ground, in mulish defiance, so she leant closer and whispered into his ear: ‘Remember, Mr Reid — if my husband should have the faintest suspicion he will destroy us both. So please, you must get ahold of yourself.’

Slowly Zachary’s feet began to move. On reaching the door he turned to her again: ‘Goodbye, Mrs Burnham.’