Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

Two days before the Ibis was to weigh anchor for China, Baboo Nob Kissin came to the budgerow to deliver Zachary’s twenty chests of opium. As he was about to leave he said: ‘Master Zikri, when I reach Hong Kong, it is possible that Miss Lambert will once again make inquiries regarding your good self. Maybe you would like to file off a missive for her? You can yourself furnish all necessary details about your movements — that way her soft corners will not be damaged. I will facilitate safe delivery.’

This alarmed Zachary, making him wonder what Paulette’s expectations were in regard to himself: did she believe that they were as good as betrothed? If so, would it not be best to correct this misunderstanding?

‘All right, Baboo,’ said Zachary grimly. ‘I’ll give you a letter for Miss Lambert.’

‘Tomorrow morning I will come to get.’

It was already quite late and after going through many sheets of paper Zachary was still unable to find the right words to express his outrage at the insinuations that Paulette had made to Mrs Burnham, in regard to himself. Exhausted by the struggle, he went to bed and on waking the next morning he decided that it would be best to write briefly without going into too much detail.

April 16, 1840

Calcutta

Dear Miss Lambert

I hope this letter finds you in the best of health. I am writing because our common acquaintance, Baboo Nob Kissin Pander, in relating the circumstances of his Meeting with you in China, has mentioned certain matters that suggest that there may be a Misunderstanding about our standing in relation to each other.

I am sure you will remember that shortly after your Flight from Mr Burnham’s home you appealed to me to obtain a Passage to the Mauritius islands for Yourself. You will recall also that I advised you against this Course and instead made an Offer of Matrimony, which you rejected.

Although I did not feel so at the time, on thinking of this Matter I have realized that I owe you a great debt of Gratitude for refusing my sincere but rash offer of Matrimony. It is perfectly clear to me that we are in no wise well-suited to each other, and that I should consider myself fortunate that your Refusal spared me the Necessity of embarking on a course of what would have been the most reckless Folly. In truth we are but acquaintances whose paths have crossed by Hazard and neither of us is justified in entertaining any Expectations of the other.

I felt it necessary to offer you this Explanation since I too am soon to depart for China and it is not unlikely that our paths will cross on those shores. Should we meet again, I trust it will be merely as Acquaintances.

Until then I have the honor to remain

Your faithful servant

Zachary Reid, Esq.

As he was signing his name Zachary heard the crunch of wheels, somewhere nearby. Looking out of a window, he saw that Baboo Nob Kissin had arrived in a hackery-garee.

‘Master Zikri!’ shouted the gomusta. ‘I have brought a gift.’

Zachary stepped out on deck to take a look. ‘What’s the gift?’

‘A servant!’ said Baboo Nob Kissin, beaming. ‘He will look after your good self during voyage. You must at once bag this golden opportunity.’

Inclining his head towards the hackery-garee, Baboo Nob Kissin clapped his hands. ‘There — look!’

Turning to the carriage now, Zachary saw, to his astonishment, that a boy had climbed out of it and was looking expectantly in his direction. He was dressed in pyjamas, slippers and a long, white tunic, bound at the waist by a cummerbund — the usual garb of a khidmatgar — but the lad could not have been more than ten years old. He was too young for a turban even, and had only a narrow bandhna around his forehead, to hold back his long black hair.

‘Hell and scissors, Baboo!’ Zachary cried in outrage. ‘How’s he going to be my servant? He’s just a gilpy of a boy. It’s I who’ll be feeding him and swabbing his ass.’

‘Arré baba, he may be young,’ said Baboo Nob Kissin, in a soothing tone, ‘but he is attentive and diligent. Clean and healthy also — tongue is clear so motions must be regular. Eating-sheating also not too much. Whatever you ask he will do — make bed, give bath, press foot. You can just sit back and enjoy. He will adjust very well on you; he will be topping khidmatgar.’

‘God dammit, Baboo! I don’t need a topping kid-mutt-whatever.’

The expression on Baboo Nob Kissin’s face now changed to one of earnest entreaty as he explained the boy’s predicament: ‘Father has expired and prospects are dim in Calcutta. Mother is very poor. If he remains here then child-lifters may catch hold of him. That is why he wants to go to Macau — his father’s co-brother is working there. He is my friend so that is why I must provide assistance.’

Something about this didn’t seem right to Zachary. ‘But I don’t understand, Baboo,’ he said. ‘If the boy’s uncle is your friend then why isn’t he shipping out with you, on the Ibis?’

‘Mr Chillingworth may not permit, no?’ said the gomusta. ‘That is why I am requesting you only. It will not be much trouble for you, Master Zikri. After you get to China you can wash your hands with him and dispose him off to uncle. Meanwhile he will happily work as khidmatgar for you — salary also is not necessary. He is extremely helpful, suitable for all donkey-works. Talkative in English also.’

Still unpersuaded, Zachary continued to protest. ‘But listen, Baboo — where’s he going to blow the grampus? There won’t be room for him to bunk down in my cabin.’

‘No problem,’ said the gomusta. ‘You can put in your bedding. No formalities.’

‘Fuckin’ell!’ Zachary spluttered. ‘I’m not going to take no nipper into my bed!’

Baboo Nob Kissin carried on undeterred. ‘Arré baba, he is a little fellow, no? He can lie on the floor even, no problem. If he makes a mischief you can shoe-beat. Just think of it as commission, for me, because of help I have given to you.’

This was an argument that could not be gainsaid. ‘Well, if you put it like that …’

Zachary beckoned to the boy and was somewhat encouraged when he came skipping up the gangplank as though he had been doing it all his life: at least he was nimble on his feet, not a clumsy landlubber. He was a lively-looking fellow too, with a sharp, expressive face. Despite himself, Zachary liked the cut of his jib.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Raj Rattan, sir,’ he said in a clear voice. ‘But everyone calls me Raju.’

‘You sure you want to go all the way to China?’

‘Yes, sir!’ cried the boy, his eagerness plainly visible in his shining eyes. ‘Please, sir.’

‘Oh all right then!’ said Zachary. ‘I’ll give it a try and see if it works out between us. Go git your things.’

The boy ran to the gharry and jumped in, leaving the door ajar. Zachary saw now that there was a woman inside: her head was hooded by her sari and he could not see her face.

‘Who’s that?’ he said to Baboo Nob Kissin.

‘Boy’s mother only. Has come for leave-taking purposes.’

For a minute or two the woman clutched the boy to her chest; from the angle of her head, it was clear that she was weeping. Then the boy whispered in her ear and she let go of him; he jumped out and came running back to the budgerow, with a small bundle slung over his shoulder. On reaching the top of the gangplank, he turned to look back at the carriage, where a glimmer of his mother’s sari could still be seen, in the crack of a window.

‘All will be well,’ Baboo Nob Kissin said to Zachary. ‘Do not worry. He is a good boy.’

‘I sure hope so,’ Zachary growled, ‘or I’ll bring him to his bearings soon enough.’