Dekho — see, these fires that you see today, you know what they are? They are just kindling. They have been lit in order to awaken the demons of greed that are hidden in all human beings. That is why the English have come to China and to Hindustan: these two lands are so populous that if their greed is aroused they will consume the whole world. Today it has begun.
Kesri’s head was spinning now. I am a simple man, punditji, he said. I don’t understand. Why should I be present at the beginning of the end? Why should you be here either?
Isn’t it clear? said Baboo Nob Kissin in a tone of some surprise. We are here to help the English fulfil their destiny. We may be little people but we are fortunate in that we know why we are here and they do not. We must do everything possible to help them. It is our duty, don’t you see?
Kesri shook his head. No, punditji, I don’t see.
Baboo Nob Kissin put a hand on his head, as if in blessing.
Don’t you understand, my son? The sooner the end comes the better. You and I are fortunate in having been chosen to serve this destiny: the beings of the future will be grateful to us. For only when this world ends will a better one be born.
*
On the Cambridge, which was moored less than twenty miles to the north of the Tiger’s Mouth, a hush fell on the decks when several immense plumes of smoke and dust were spotted in the distance, rising slowly towards the clouds.
The size of the plumes was such that only one conclusion was possible. The forts of the Tiger’s Mouth were on fire.
As reports came pouring in, it became evident that it was just a matter of time before the First Bar was attacked. The only question was when: would the English ships press on that very day or would they wait awhile?
With the passage of the hours the possibility of an immediate attack began to fade: the stretch of water between the Tiger’s Mouth and the First Bar was known to be treacherous and it was unlikely that the English warships would attempt to navigate it so late in the day.
At sunset, when the distant columns of smoke were turning red in the fading daylight, a silence descended on the Cambridge: after many hours of fevered speculation the quiet was almost eerie. When Jodu called the vessel’s Muslims to prayer, there was something serene and reassuring about the sound of the azaan, even for those who were not of the faith.
After the prayers were over, a huddle formed around Jodu who began to speak in a low, earnest voice. The intensity of his expression piqued Neel’s curiosity; he could not resist eavesdropping.
It turned out that Jodu was talking about Judgement Day and how to prepare for it.
Later Neel asked Jodu if he really thought it would come to that. Jodu answered with a shrug: Ké jané? Who knows? But if it does, I want to be ready.
*
A little after sunset a seacunny came to tell Zachary that yet another boat had pulled up beside the Ibis. Leaning over the bulwark Zachary saw that the boat was carrying a single litter: lying in it was a very young subaltern, an ensign. He was accompanied by a few dooley-bearers and an officer — none other than Captain Mee.
Zachary caught his breath: it seemed to him that this might be exactly the opportunity he had been waiting for. He went to stand beside the side-ladder and when Captain Mee stepped on deck, he held out his hand: ‘Good evening, Captain Mee.’
Captain Mee’s uniform was stained with sweat and streaks of blood: evidently he had been so preoccupied in looking after the wounded ensign that he had not had time to clean up or change. He seemed barely to recognize Zachary: ‘I take it you’re the skipper of this vessel?’
‘Yes I am.’
The captain peered at him. ‘Oh you’re the …’
Zachary steeled himself for an insult but it never came: instead the captain gave his hand a cursory shake. ‘Good day to you.’
In the meantime the wounded ensign had been winched up from the boat: when his litter landed on the deck of the Ibis he gave a cry of pain.
‘Hold on there, Upjohn,’ shouted Captain Mee. ‘We’ll have you snugged down in a minute.’
The captain’s voice was uncharacteristically mild, almost solicitous; evidently his concern for the young officer had softened the edge of his habitual abrasiveness. Zachary took this as a propitious sign.
‘Badly hurt, is he?’
‘Took a nasty tumble when we were scaling the walls at North Wantung,’ said the captain gruffly. ‘May have broken his back.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir,’ said Zachary. ‘If there’s anything I can do for him please do let me know.’
Captain Mee seemed to thaw a bit. He gave Zachary a polite nod. ‘That’s kind; thank you.’
Zachary hung back while the captain followed the wounded ensign’s litter into the stateroom. When he spotted him coming out again, Zachary stepped into the cuddy.
‘May I have a quick word, Captain Mee?’
The captain hesitated. ‘I don’t have much time.’
‘Oh it won’t take long.’ Zachary held open the door of the first mate’s cabin. ‘Would you mind stepping inside?’
The cabin was very small, illuminated by a single candle. After Zachary had shut the door they were barely an arm’s length apart.
‘What is it then?’
The back of Captain Mee’s head was pressed against the ceiling even though he was standing with his shoulders hunched. The only place to sit was the bunk, with its grimy and tangled sheets; Zachary decided that it would be best for them to remain on their feet.
‘It’s a very simple matter, Captain,’ said Zachary. ‘I wanted to suggest a business proposition.’
‘Business?’ The captain spat out the word as though it were a piece of grit. ‘I don’t twig your meaning.’
‘Captain, I happen to have at my disposal a large stock of provisions, of the kind favoured by sepoys — rice, lentils, spices and so on. My partners and I would be most grateful if you could bring this to the notice of your purchasing clerks.’ Zachary paused to cough into his fist. ‘And of course we would make sure that you were suitably compensated for your consideration.’
A look of bewilderment descended on the captain’s face. ‘What do you mean “suitably compensated”?’
To Zachary the question seemed like an expression of interest and it sent a thrill of excitement through him. The hook was in now and all that remained was to set it.
Picking his words carefully, Zachary said: ‘I am referring to a small token of our appreciation, Captain Mee. I am sure you know that we Free-Traders are very, very grateful to you and your fellow soldiers for the wonderful job that you are doing here in China. Since you’ve had to work hard and face many hazards it’s only fair, surely, that you too should receive a share of the benefits? It seems a shame that middle-ranking officers such as yourself should be rewarded with nothing more than a few paltry allowances’ — here again Zachary stopped to cough into his fist — ‘especially considering that many of your seniors have already received substantial considerations.’
The expression on Captain Mee’s face changed as comprehension slowly dawned on him. ‘Oh, so that’s the bustle, is it?’ he said. ‘You’re offering me a backhander — a bribe.’
‘You mustn’t jump to conclusions, Captain Mee.’ Only now did Zachary realize that he had taken the wrong approach — but no matter, he had other cards up his sleeve.
‘Don’t pitch me your gammon — d’you take me for a muttonhead? I know very well what your fakement is, you spigot-sucking shitheel.’
The captain’s big, heavy-jawed face was contorted with rage now; his fists were knotted and twitching. Zachary took a step back, flattening himself against the bulkhead. ‘Captain Mee, may I remind you that you are on my vessel? You need to get ahold of yourself.’