Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

Compton assured me that measures have been taken to ensure their safety. At Zhong Lou-si’s insistence the provincial authorities have provided a special guard to protect them.

The day after the storm, from sunrise onwards, Zachary worked with the Hind ’s carpenters, helping to rig up a jury mast. The job took many hours, under a burning hot sun. At mid-day, when Zachary returned to the cubicle to change his dripping shirt, he found Raju waiting.

‘Sir, Havildar Kesri Singh told me to give you a message.’

Zachary raised an eyebrow: ‘You mean the Indian sarjeant?’

‘Yes, sir. He wants to meet with you, in private. He’ll come here tonight at eight thirty, when the bell for the first watch is rung. He asked me not to tell anyone but you, sir. He doesn’t want others to know.’

‘What’s he want with me?’

‘It’s something about the Ibis , sir.’

‘The Ibis ?’ A puzzled frown appeared on Zachary’s forehead. ‘What’s the Ibis got to do with him?’

‘I don’t know, sir,’ said Raju. ‘Yesterday I was telling the banjee-boys about you and the Ibis ; he must have overheard.’

This mystified Zachary all the more: he’d had no inkling that Raju was aware of his role in the Ibis incident; the subject had never come up between them and nor would he have thought that the boy would have any interest in it.

‘Where’d you hear about the Ibis , kid-mutt?’

‘From you, sir,’ Raju blurted out. ‘In court.’

As soon as the words were spoken Raju knew he had made a terrible mistake; quite possibly he had betrayed his own identity, and perhaps his father’s too. Stricken with guilt, he made a desperate attempt to retrieve the situation.

‘I mean, sir … I heard Baboo Nob Kissin talking about it.’

Zachary’s frown deepened. ‘Why would Baboo talk to you about the Ibis? What the hell’s the Ibis got to do with you?’

Raju was now too distraught to speak: he stared wordlessly at Zachary, lips quivering.

His response puzzled Zachary; he could not understand why the boy was so upset. ‘What’s the matter, kid-mutt?’ he said in a softer voice. ‘There’s no cause to be all cabobbled. I don’t mean you no harm. You understand that, don’t you?’

The kindness of his tone only deepened Raju’s confusion. In their short time together, Zachary had so completely won his trust that he would have been glad to tell him the truth — that his father had been on the Ibis too; that he was on his way to join him now, in Macau. But Baboo Nob Kissin had admonished him not to speak of these things, on any account: there was no telling what Zachary might do if he discovered who Raju was and that his father was still alive; quite possibly he would think it his duty to report the matter to the authorities.

Zachary had only to look at the boy’s red, choking face to know that he was harbouring some kind of secret. In a quiet undertone, he said: ‘What is it, kid-mutt? Is there something you want to tell me?’

Raju shook his head forcefully, pressing his lips together.

The ineptitude of his dissembling made Zachary smile. ‘You know, kid-mutt,’ he said quietly, ‘there’s a lot about you that don’t add up: the way you speak English, your dainty ways. You can say what you like but I just don’t believe you were always a servant.’

Raju made no answer but stared back at him, tongue-tied.

Seating himself on his sea-trunk, Zachary looked into Raju’s eyes. ‘Tell me, kid-mutt,’ he said, ‘did we ever meet before that day when Baboo Nob Kissin brought you to see me? Should I have recognized you when you came to the budgerow with him?’

Mutely shaking his head, Raju mouthed the words: ‘No, sir.’

Zachary knew he would get nothing more out of the boy. With a rueful smile he said: ‘Who are you, kid-mutt? I wish I knew.’

Now suddenly tears began to trickle out of the corners of Raju’s eyes; he swallowed as if to choke back a sob.

The sight jolted Zachary. ‘Hey there, kid-mutt! There’s no call to cry and such. I’m not hollerin at you or anything …’

A twinge of remorse prompted Zachary to place a hand on Raju’s shoulder. The weight of it made Raju stumble towards him, and without quite meaning to, Zachary caught him in his arms and hugged him to his chest.

The gesture demolished Raju’s defences and his tears began to flow as if a dam had collapsed.

Since the day of his father’s arrest, two and a half years before, Raju had not once given free rein to his emotions; not wanting to add to his mother’s burdens, he had held everything in. Now it was as though all the tumult of the last two years was rising to his eyes and pouring out, on to Zachary’s shoulder.

Zachary felt the warm wetness on his skin, and it brought on a moment of panic: never before had he hugged a child to his chest in this way; never had he had to comfort a small, helplessly sobbing creature like this one. It was instinct rather than reflection that told him what to do: a hand rose, as if of itself, and stroked the boy’s head, awkwardly at first and then with increasing assurance.

‘It’s all right, kid-mutt,’ Zachary mumbled. ‘Whatever it is that’s botherin you, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll be around if you need me. I’ll take care of you.’

The words shocked him, even as he was saying them. Never before had he told anyone that he would take care of them; nor had anyone ever uttered those words to him, except his mother. It was as if he were hugging an old version of himself; someone who was irretrievably lost to him now; a child whose absence he could not help mourning.

*

The ship’s bell had no sooner tolled than Kesri stepped out of his cabin, dressed not in his uniform but in a plain white ungah and dhoti. He reached Zachary’s cubicle just as the eighth peal was fading away. The door opened as soon as he knocked and Kesri found himself face to face with Zachary, who was in his breeches and a striped sailor’s banyan.

The cubicle was lit by a single lamp: in its light Kesri saw that a few chests had been arranged at one end, to make a seat. Facing it, at the other end of the narrow space, was a sea-trunk.

‘Come in, Sarjeant.’

Gesturing to Kesri to take the sea-trunk, Zachary seated himself on the chests.

For a minute or two they studied each other and then Kesri said: ‘Good evening, Reid-sah’b.’

‘Good evening.’

Kesri cleared his throat, trying to think of a suitable preamble; failing to find one, he came abruptly to the point: ‘Reid-sah’b, is it true you were on Ibis ?’

‘Yes,’ said Zachary. ‘I was the second mate, on the voyage to Mauritius.’

‘There was one Subedar Bhyro Singh, with you, no?’

‘Yes, there was.’

‘What happened to Subedar Bhyro Singh?’

In a few words Zachary explained that Subedar Bhyro Singh had had a run-in with a coolie and had insisted that the man be flogged. The coolie was a big fellow, very powerfully built. After a dozen lashes he had broken free of his bindings and turned the whip upon his tormentor, breaking his neck with the lash. All of this had happened in a matter of seconds; later it had come to be learnt that the trouble between the two men had begun with an assault on the coolie’s wife, by the subedar.

‘The woman,’ said Kesri quickly, ‘the coolie’s wife — what was her name?’

Zachary had to scratch his head several times before the name came to him. ‘It was something like “Ditty” as I remember.’

Kesri had been holding his breath and it leaked out of him now, in a long, deep sigh. His chin sank into his chest as he absorbed what Zachary had said.