It wasn’t long before Neel’s friends began to leave. One day Baburao came to the monastery to tell him that he was taking his whole family to Hong Kong. Guangzhou had become too unsafe, especially for boat-people; most of their relatives had already left.
Aar ekhane amra ki korbo? said Baburao, in Bengali. What are we to do here? In today’s Guangzhou there is no place for an eatery like ours.
In Hong Kong Asha-didi would be able to start over again, serving biryani, puris, samosas, kababs and all the other items for which her kitchen was famous; with so many lascar-crewed ships in the bay, there would be no shortage of Indian customers.
The move had been in preparation for a while, said Baburao. Over several weeks he and his sons had secretly transferred their household goods to his junk; they would leave in a day or two.
And the houseboat?
It will lie empty here for now, said Baburao. Maybe we’ll come back to get it some day. Then it was Compton’s turn to say goodbye. He had decided to go back to his village, he said, but he probably would not stay there long. There was no work for him there; he would have to move to a place where he could earn a livelihood.
So where will you go? said Neel.
Where can I go? said Compton despairingly. If I am to set up a print-shop again I will have to go to a place where an English-language printer is needed.
Such as?
Macau maybe, said Compton shamefacedly. Or maybe even Hong Kong.
You? In Hong Kong?
What else can I do, Ah Neel? Everything has changed. To survive I too will have to change.
A dispirited smile appeared on Compton’s face: ‘Maybe from now on we speak English again, jik-haih? I will need to practise.’
When they shook hands Neel said: ‘Thank you, Compton: for everything you’ve done for me — for all your help.’
‘Don’t thank me, Ah Neel,’ said Compton. ‘After this maybe it will be you who help me, haih me haih aa?’
The one face that never appeared at Neel’s bedside was Jodu’s. When Neel asked about him he was told, by Taranathji, that Jodu had remained in the monastery for only a few days after their arrivaclass="underline" then a visitor had come looking for him, a sailor from foreign parts — a fierce-looking man with a mouth that was stained red with betel.
Jodu had left with him and had not been seen since.
*
Within half an hour of reaching Whampoa, Zachary was seated in the Ibis’s longboat, heading towards Canton’s foreign enclave. He had heard a great deal about the size and populousness of Guangzhou but when the city walls came into view he was transfixed nonetheless: the ramparts seemed to stretch away forever, disappearing into the sunset sky. He had once overheard Captain Hall, of the Nemesis, saying that the two most marvellous sights he had seen in his life were Niagara Falls and the city of Canton: now he understood why.
Zachary’s amazement deepened as the Ibis’s longboat made its way along the city’s miles-long waterfront: the sprawl of habitation, the traffic on the river and the sheer density of people was almost beyond comprehension. Grudgingly he admitted to himself that his native Baltimore would be dwarfed by this vast metropolis, even if it were three, four or five times larger than it was.
To find Mr Burnham in this vast honeycomb of a city would be a devil of a task, he assumed. But when the boat drew up to the foreign enclave he had no difficulty in deciding which way to go: a tall flagpole with a fluttering Union Jack led him directly to the British Factory where Mr Burnham had taken an apartment.
On entering the factory Zachary was handed over to a bowing, gown-clad steward who led him through a series of richly panelled hallways and carpeted corridors. Zachary’s eyes widened as he took in the gilt-framed pictures, the gleaming sconces, the tall porcelain vases, the ivory doorknobs, the lavishly painted wallpapers, the thick carpets — the opulence of the place was marvellously seductive; this, Zachary decided, was how he would like to live.
Mr Burnham’s apartment too was lavishly appointed, so much so that the luxuries of Bethel seemed modest by comparison. The door was opened by another pig-tailed, black-gowned servant, and Zachary was led through a wainscoted vestibule to a large study.
Mr Burnham was sitting at a desk, enthroned in a rosewood chair. ‘Ah there you are, Reid!’ he said, as he rose to welcome Zachary. ‘You’ve arrived at last.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Zachary. ‘And I’m much obliged to you for making the arrangements.’
‘Oh it was nothing. And you’ve come not a moment too soon.’
‘Really, sir? Why?’
‘There’s a reception this evening in this factory.’
Mr Burnham paused, as if to add emphasis to what he was about to say.
‘A large contingent of military officers will be present.’
Zachary was instantly on the alert. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘I believe Captain Mee is expected.’
‘I see, sir.’
‘I was wondering,’ Mr Burnham continued, ‘whether there’s been any progress on that little matter that we talked about?’
‘Well, sir,’ said Zachary. ‘I did speak to Captain Mee a while ago and I do believe I succeeded in planting a thought or two in his mind. He’s had some time to think the matter over — so I should be able to get an answer from him now.’
‘Good,’ said Mr Burnham, glancing at his fob. ‘Well we should go then — the reception will have started already.’
Zachary followed Mr Burnham down a flight of stairs to a mahogany-panelled refectory. A dozen or so merchants had already gathered there and they pounced on Mr Burnham as soon as he stepped in.
‘Burnham, have you heard? The mandarins have moved four thousand more troops from Hubei to Canton.’
‘And a new battery has been built on the Dutch folly!’
‘There can be no doubt of it now — the Chinese are preparing another offensive!’
‘And what I want to know is what in hell is the Plenny-potty doing about it?’
As others joined in the outcry Zachary retreated to the edges of the group, and manoeuvred himself into a position from which he could keep an eye on the door.
It wasn’t long before Captain Mee entered, with a group of red-coated officers: he was in full dress uniform, with a sword at his side. Their eyes met briefly as the officers stepped in and Zachary knew, from the way the captain flushed, that he was rattled to see him.
In the meantime Mr Burnham had added his voice to the discussion: ‘I have it on good authority, gentlemen, that General Gough has already issued orders for the troops at Hong Kong to be brought forward to Whampoa. As long as he’s at the helm we have nothing to fear!’
‘Hear, hear!’
Zachary listened with only half an ear; his attention was now wholly focused on Captain Mee.
The captain too seemed to be aware that he was being watched and his discomfiture became steadily more evident: he kept mopping his face and fidgeting with his collar. Seeing him drain several glasses of wine in quick succession, Zachary realized that he would have to act quickly if the danger of a drunken scene were to be averted. When the captain drifted away to a window he decided to make his move: he crossed the refectory and stuck out his hand: ‘A very good eveningto you, Captain Mee.’