One evening, when Zachary was fretfully pacing the quarterdeck, a boat pulled up beside the Ibis. ‘Holloa there, Mr Reid!’ shouted a familiar voice. ‘Permission to come aboard?’
‘Yes of course, Mr Chan.’
It turned out that Mr Chan was on his way to Guangzhou, at the invitation of the province’s new head-officials. ‘You see, Mr Reid,’ he said with a laugh, ‘how the tide turns? The mandarins who drove me from the city are all gone now. The new prefect has decided that he needs my advice. So after an absence of two years, I am at last able to return to my native city without fear of harassment.’
‘You’re lucky, Mr Chan,’ said Zachary enviously. ‘I wish I were going with you — what I wouldn’t give to see Canton!’
‘Have you never been there then?’ said Mr Chan.
Zachary shook his head. ‘No — I’ve been stranded here for over a month and I don’t think I can take it much longer.’
‘Well something must be done about that!’ said Mr Chan. ‘Mr Burnham is in Canton, isn’t he?’
‘So he is.’
‘I shall probably be seeing him,’ said Mr Chan, ‘and I’ll certainly put in a word for you. I’m sure something can be arranged.’
‘Oh thank you, Mr Chan! I would be ever so obliged.’
‘But you mustn’t thank me prematurely,’ said Mr Chan. ‘You should know that my assistance hangs upon the outcome of the little errand that brings me here today.’
‘Of course.’
Zachary couldn’t for the life of him imagine what service he could possibly offer to a man of such consequence; and Mr Chan’s first remark, which was uttered in a casual, almost uninterested tone of voice, served only to deepen his puzzlement: ‘This vessel, the Ibis — I gather she has an interesting history?’
Zachary could see shoals in the waters ahead and chose to answer cautiously: ‘Are you referring to what happened on the Ibis’s late voyage to the Mauritius Islands?’
‘Exactly,’ said Mr Chan. ‘Am I right to think there was a half-Chinese convict on board? A man called Ah Fatt?’
‘That is correct.’
With a nod of acknowledgement Mr Chan continued. ‘I had been led to believe that this man had died. But it has recently come to my ears that he may instead have washed up at Hong Kong. I gather he has changed his appearance and is using a different name.’
Since no specific question had been asked Zachary did not think it necessary to respond. But his silence seemed to provoke Mr Chan, who removed his hand from Zachary’s shoulder and wheeled around to face him. ‘I should explain,’ he said, in a sharper tone of voice, ‘that this man is of great interest to me, Mr Reid.’
‘May I ask why?’
‘Let’s just say that I have some unfinished business with him, a trifling matter. It would be a great help to me if you could confirm that he is indeed at Hong Kong.’
Such was the contrast between the blandness of Mr Chan’s words and the silky menace of his tone that Zachary knew that the nature of the unfinished business was anything but trifling. Nor could he imagine that anyone would want to trifle either with Mr Chan or with the ex-convict: the man was a killer after all — Zachary had seen that with his own eyes, on the Ibis, on that night when he had settled his accounts with Mr Crowle. That he, Zachary, had thereby himself been spared injury — or perhaps even death — was the only consideration that made him hesitate to betray Freddie to Mr Chan.
‘Come now,’ said Mr Chan, prodding him gently. ‘We are partners, are we not, Mr Reid? We must be frank with each other — and you may be sure that no one shall know but I.’
All of a sudden now, Zachary recalled the veiled threats and innuendoes that had issued from the convict’s lips in Singapore. It was then that he made his decision: the man knew too much; to be rid of him would be no great loss for the world.
Zachary looked into the visitor’s eyes: ‘Yes, Mr Chan — I think you’re right. I too have reason to believe that he is at Hong Kong.’
Mr Chan continued to stare at him intently. ‘And would you by any chance happen to know what name he is using?’
‘He calls himself Freddie Lee.’
A smile spread slowly across Mr Chan’s face.
‘Thank you, Mr Reid, thank you. This makes everything much easier for me. I am glad we understand each other so well! One good turn deserves another — you will hear from Mr Burnham very soon; I will make sure of that.’
Zachary bowed. ‘It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr Chan.’
‘And with you, Mr Reid.’
Mr Chan was as good as his word. At the end of the week a letter arrived from Mr Burnham, to tell Zachary that he had been released from his official commitments. He was to proceed at once to the foreign enclave in Canton, leaving the Ibis at Whampoa.
*
For several weeks after the extraction of the bullet from his side Neel was incapacitated by a fever. Of the extraction itself he remembered only that it was performed by a group of Chinese and Tibetan monks, armed with fearsome-looking needles and instruments. Fortunately he lost consciousness at the start of the procedure and did not regain it until the next day.
After that he would wake intermittently, to find himself lying on a mat, in a small, low-ceilinged room. In one corner lay the books and writing materials he had left behind at the Ocean Banner Monastery, with Taranathji. When he could summon the strength he would read or make notes.
Often he would hear musket- and cannon-fire in the distance; the noise would fade into his fevered dreams. From time to time familiar faces would appear — Taranathji, Compton, Baburao — and if their visits happened to coincide with a period of lucidity, they would speak of what was happening.
A truce had been declared, they told him; British warships were stationed all along the Guangzhou riverfront; steamers and gunboats were roaming the waterways, destroying batteries and gun-emplacements at will, attacking any vessel that aroused their suspicions. In the foreign enclave the Union Jack had once again been hoisted over the British Factory; many merchants had moved in and trade had been forcibly resumed. A very senior officer, General Sir Hugh Gough, had taken command of the British forces and he and Captain Elliot had issued a series of proclamations and ultimatums, demanding that the seizure of Hong Kong be formally ratified by the Emperor; that six million silver dollars be handed over immediately; that the ban on the opium trade be rescinded.
And so on.
But the Emperor was adamant: not only had he refused to make any concessions, he had recalled Qishan to Beijing in disgrace. The Governor-General had been replaced by a new set of officials, one of them a famous general; the Emperor had said to them: ‘The only word I accept is annihilation.’
But on arriving in Guangzhou the Emperor’s new envoys had been confronted with the same dilemma that had confounded their predecessors: the British forces were too powerful to be openly challenged — extensive preparations would be required if they were to be repulsed. So they had continued to parlay with the invaders while redoubling their efforts to strengthen their own forces.
Now thousands of fresh troops were pouring into the city, from other provinces and cities; new vessels, modelled on British gunboats, were being built at secret locations and guns were being cast in a foundry at nearby Fatshan, among them a colossal eighty-pounder.
Everybody knew that it was just a matter of time before war broke out again, this time with Guangzhou as the battlefield. This had caused great alarm, especially among those who lived outside the city walls; thousands had already fled from the suburbs and many more were planning to go. In some areas law and order had collapsed. The influx of troops from other provinces had added to the chaos; rumours were in the air that soldiers from faraway provinces had violated local women. This had led to clashes between the townsfolk and the newly arrived troops. Turmoil such as this had not been seen in Guangzhou since the fall of the Ming dynasty, two hundred years before.