Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

‘Blessed indeed are those, Reid, whom God chooses to be present at such moments in history! Think of Columbus, Cortez and Clive! Is there any greater or more satisfying endeavour for a young man than to expand his own fortunes while extending God’s dominion?’

‘No, sir!’

But not to everyone did it fall, said Mr Burnham, to recognize these emerging avenues of opportunity. Many timid and cautious men were sure to be scared off by the uncertainties of war — these creatures of habit were predestined to fall by the wayside while the bold and the chosen claimed the prize.

As for himself, said Mr Burnham, he did not doubt for a moment that a new empire of commerce was opening up, for all who had the foresight and courage to seize the day. Such was his conviction that he intended to send the Ibis to China immediately, with a large cargo of opium; the schooner would be skippered by Captain Chillingworth and Baboo Nob Kissin would be the supercargo. He would himself proceed to China later in the year, after all his affairs had been settled in India; his ship, the Anahita , would also be carrying opium, in addition to a large consignment of other goods.

But that was not all; Mr Burnham explained that he had lent a vessel to the expeditionary force — the Hind . She was now at Bombay collecting a load of Malwa opium and a few passengers. On returning to Calcutta, she would take on a contingent of troops and equipment; then she would sail with the rest of the expedition’s fleet, under the command of Mr Doughty.

Only now did Mr Burnham come to his proposition.

‘What I need,’ said Mr Burnham, ‘is a good, sound man to sail on the Hind as her supercargo. To him will fall the task of safeguarding my consignment of Malwa opium. Should he be offered attractive prices at ports along the way, he will be free to use his own judgement to make sales. He will be comfortably accommodated, and he will have the right, as do all supercargoes, to carry a certain quantity of goods to trade on his own account. In addition to whatever profits he may make — and they may be considerable — he will also be paid a salary. And last, but not least, if he acquits himself well on this venture, he will be assured of my support in the advancement of his career.’

Mr Burnham paused now to stroke his glossy beard before focusing the full intensity of his gaze on Zachary. ‘Well, Reid,’ he said, ‘it is no secret that you have long enjoyed my good opinion. In you I can see certain aspects of myself as I was when I first came out East. The other day when I saw you at the opium auction it seemed to me that you may now be on the brink of discovering your true vocation. Baboo Nob Kissin, as you know, holds you in the highest regard. He believes that you are the perfect man for the job I have described; he is, no doubt, a dreadful old heathen, but he is also a shrewd judge of men. He tells me that you need to cover the purchase price on twenty chests of opium.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, Reid, I am willing to loan you the money, as an advance on your salary.’ He paused again, as if to give Zachary a moment to collect himself. ‘It only remains now for you to tell me, Reid: are you ready?’

Zachary had been listening to Mr Burnham’s words just as closely as he had once hung upon the utterances of his wife: the effect they had on him too was, in a strange way, not dissimilar. A shiver of anticipation passed through him now as he straightened his back and placed his hand over his heart.

‘I am indeed ready, Mr Burnham,’ he said. ‘God willing, you will not find me wanting.’

*

With the day of departure rapidly approaching, the balamteers’ performance continued to improve: a joint exercise with the Cameronians exceeded everyone’s expectations and a series of inspections, including one by a staff officer, went off with only a few minor hitches. Nor, fortunately, were there any desertions, as Kesri had feared.

All of this seemed to augur well, but Kesri knew that the real test was fast approaching — the day of Holi.

This festival was by tradition celebrated with great gusto in the Bengal Native Infantry. Kesri knew that the men of B Company would want to go to the Sepoy Lines on that day, to make merry. Bhang would flow liberally, everybody would be doused in colour, guns would be fired into the air, dancing boys would put on frenzied performances and the bazar-girls would be under siege. It would be a wild mêlée of a mela, and Kesri guessed that if anybody had it on their minds to desert this was when they would do it. He voiced his concerns to Captain Mee and they decided between them that to prevent the men from participating would only create trouble; it would be best to let them go in small groups, each accompanied by an NCO. Moreover, they would be under orders to report back by sunset and there would be a head-count in front of the barracks. As a further precaution, Captain Mee decided also to notify the fort’s intelligence officers.

In the past Kesri himself had always celebrated Holi enthusiastically but this year revelry was the last thing on his mind. When the day came he went to the Sepoy Lines with the men and did his best to keep an eye on them, quaffing hardly a tumbler of bhang. But to keep track of everyone was impossible: the festivities were too exuberant and there were too many people milling about. In the evening, when the ghanti was rung for roll-call, the head-count was found to be short by six men. Further inquiries revealed that four of the missing sepoys were merely incapacitated by bhang and ganja; this meant that only two men were missing. Captain Mee sent a report to the intelligence bureau and within minutes runners were dispatched to the city’s roadheads and crossing points.

Kesri doubted that the two deserters would have the wiles to effect a getaway; they were both young, not quite twenty yet. Sure enough they were apprehended while trying to board a ferry.

Kesri spoke with Captain Mee and they agreed that the deserters would be court-martialled and that the maximum penalty — death — would be sought, as a deterrent to others. But they agreed also that it was important to find out why they had deserted, and whether they had been aided by others in the battalion. To that end Captain Mee arranged for Kesri to interrogate the boys himself.

Kesri questioned the prisoners separately and received more or less the same answers from both. Their complaints were not unfamiliar: the most important of them concerned their pay. It was now common knowledge that the expedition’s Indian troops would be paid less than their British counterparts and this had become a matter of great resentment for many sepoys — Kesri himself was none too pleased about it.

It had long been a grievance with sepoys that they were paid less than white soldiers. Few were persuaded by the military establishment’s argument that British troopers needed better pay because they were serving in a foreign country. Now the disingenuousness of this line of reasoning stood exposed: China was foreign to sepoy and swaddy alike; why then should the expedition’s white soldiers earn more than them? But other than grumble there was nothing the sepoys could do: to make a bigger issue of it was to invite a court martial.

Another item that figured large in the deserters’ list of grievances was the matter of inferior weaponry: they had taken the army’s refusal to upgrade their guns as a slight on their izzat as fighting men. This in turn had bred other suspicions: they had heard that their transport vessels, like their weapons, would be of inferior quality, more likely to go down in bad weather. They had also heard that in the event of a shortage of rations their provisions would be commandeered for white soldiers — they would be made to eat potatoes and other loathsome things; or else they would be left to die of starvation and disease.