Amitav Ghosh - Flood of Fire

They needed to be taken in hand, Kesri knew, but before he could do anything about it a team of surgeons and medical attendants arrived, to oversee the evacuation of the wounded, and in the confusion of the moment Kesri forgot to order the men to go below. This was an unfortunate omission; later he would curse himself for having allowed the men to witness the evacuation.

Very few of the evacuees were in a condition to use the usual facilities for debarkation. Neither the side-ladders nor even the swing-lift would serve for the seriously injured so a special crane was set up to winch them down to the waiting boats in a hanging litter.

The agonized screams of the injured fifers, as they were transferred from their pallets to the litter, were harrowing enough to listen to; worse by far was what happened when it came time for the injured punditji to be moved. He was carried out of the infirmary in an immobile condition, lying prone on a pallet. When his litter was hoisted off the deck, he sat suddenly erect, like a puppet jerked up by the tug of a string. Raking the maindeck with wild, bloodshot eyes, he uttered a bone-chilling shriek, calling out the name of the god of death, Yamaraj.

By the time his litter reached the boat the punditji was dead.

*

Soon after the Hind dropped anchor Zadig hired a sampan and went off to look for Robin Chinnery. He was gone for what seemed to Shireen an inordinately long time. But just as she was beginning to worry, he returned, full of good cheer.

Everything was settled, he told Shireen;. the house that Robin had found for Shireen, in Macau, was ready and waiting.

Shireen gave a sigh of relief. ‘That is very good news, Zadig Bey. I hope you thanked Robin for me? I was beginning to think that something had gone wrong.’

Zadig was quick to apologize: it had taken him a long time to locate the Redruth , he said, and he had found Robin in a great state — it turned out that he was preparing to sail northwards, with the British fleet.

‘But why?’ said Shireen in surprise. ‘Has he joined the navy?’

This drew a great guffaw from Zadig. ‘No, Bibiji, Robin is the least martial of men. He is actually going along as an artist. He tells me that it is quite the thing nowadays for armies to be accompanied by painters so that their exploits and victories can be recorded for posterity. A colonel has invited him and it is too good an opportunity to be refused. Robin will set sail tomorrow.’

‘What a pity,’ said Shireen in disappointment. ‘I would have liked to meet him.’

‘He would have liked to meet you too, Bibiji. In Canton, during the opium crisis, he was often at Bahram-bhai’s house. He wanted to offer his condolences but unfortunately there’s no time today. He will come to see you when he returns: in the meantime he sends you his salaams. So does his friend, Paulette.’

‘She was there too?’

‘Yes, Bibiji — and she too will come to see you some day. She was at Hong Kong you know, when Bahram’s body was found.’

‘Oh?’ said Shireen. ‘I didn’t know that. What an odd coincidence.’

‘No, Bibiji, not really. Paulette spends a lot of time on the island.’

Zadig turned to point in the direction of Hong Kong. ‘Do you see that tall mountain over there? That is where Paulette’s guardian, Mr Penrose, has set up a nursery, for his collection of plants. Since Mr Penrose is rather infirm, it is Paulette who takes care of it: she goes there every day.’

‘On her own?’

‘Yes, Bibiji, she often goes on her own. She dresses up in breeches and a jacket and no one gives her any trouble. She was up there that day when Bahram died. The nursery has a very good view of the bay and the shore: Paulette noticed a great commotion and came hurrying down to the beach below the nursery. And there she found Vico, the munshi and some lascars from the Anahita gathered around Bahram’s body.’

Shireen fell silent, resting her eyes on the looming island. ‘I would like to talk to her, Zadig Bey.’

‘I’m sure an opportunity will arise soon enough, Bibiji. She too is keen to meet you.’

*

Down in the shadows of the dimly lit cubicle, Raju listened numbly as Baboo Nob Kissin gave him the news: his father was no longer in Macau; he had gone off to Canton to take a job; he could not be contacted because the Pearl River was under blockade; even to try to send a message was fraught with risk, since it might bring down suspicion on his head — nonetheless, attempts would be made …

After listening for a while Raju broke in: Apni chithi likhechhilen na? You had written a letter to him, hadn’t you? You had told him I was coming?

Yes, of course I had, said Baboo Nob Kissin. But my letter must not have reached him. He must have left Macau before it arrived. He was gone by the time I reached the coast; I have not been able to reach him since.

The explanation was lost on Raju, who turned on Baboo Nob Kissin as though he were personally to blame: But why? Why did he leave? Why didn’t he wait?

Because he didn’t know, said Baboo Nob Kissin. It’s not his fault — how could he have imagined that you would set out in search of him? Had he known he would certainly have waited. We just have to send him word, somehow, and I am sure he will come for you.

But what am I to do till then? cried Raju in dismay. Where will I stay? With whom?

The boy’s increasingly fraught tone alarmed Baboo Nob Kissin.

Listen, Raju, he said. Tomorrow I will be leaving to go north on the Ibis — Mr Reid will be the captain. You can come with us as a ship’s boy if you want.

But I don’t want to move to another ship! cried Raju, his eyes glistening. I have friends on the Hind — why should I leave them? Isn’t it enough that my father isn’t here? Do you want me to lose my friends too?

Pierced by the note of accusation in his voice, Baboo Nob Kissin could only appeal to the heavens — Hé Gobindo; hé Gopal! Under his breath he cursed himself for having brought this calamity upon his own head: had he not sought out the boy and his mother, in Calcutta, he wouldn’t have had this problem on his hands.

As so often in his life, the decision had been made for Baboo Nob Kissin by Ma Taramony, his guiding spirit. Having long regarded Neel with a maternal eye, she had decided that it was imperative for Baboo Nob Kissin to visit his wife, on his return from China to Calcutta: it was his duty, she had told him, to tell the unfortunate woman that her husband was still alive and would return some day, to take her and Raju away from Calcutta.

Although Baboo Nob Kissin had had his reservations, he had obeyed Ma Taramony’s instructions in the belief that the matter would end there. Not for a moment had it occurred to him that he was in danger of being set upon by a wilful and headstrong boy who, on hearing the news would proceed to beg, cajole and demand that he, Baboo Nob Kissin, a mere messenger, come to his assistance in his quest to seek out his father.

Baboo Nob Kissin had protested to the best of his ability but his resistance had been hindered by an unfortunate quirk of his character: a besetting fear of children. Although more than a match for wily seths and ruthless zamindars, the gomusta was incapable of resisting the importunities of a child — not because of the softness of his heart but out of a deep dread of the terrible power of their powerlessness. When the look in their wide, expressive eyes turned to anger or disappointment, they seemed to him to be gifted with the ability to inflict all kinds of injuries. There was little he would not do to escape their maledictions — and somehow Raju had seemed to be aware of this and had turned it to his advantage, besieging him with pleas, entreaties, cajoleries and veiled threats.