The captain turned his head slightly and an angry flush rose to his large, heavy-jawed face. A vein began to throb on his temple and, as if by instinct, his fingers began to fidget with the hilt of his sword.
This was a decisive moment, Zachary knew, and he kept his gaze fixed unflinchingly on the captain’s face. Their eyes met and locked together; for a long moment it was as if two powerful currents had collided and each were trying to force back the other. Then something seemed to shift and Zachary sensed that he had only to keep his nerve in order to prevail; without dropping his eyes he repeated, ‘Good evening, Captain Mee,’ and again thrust his hand at him.
And now at last the captain brushed a hand across Zachary’s fingertips. ‘Good evening.’
Zachary smiled. ‘It’s always a pleasure to see you, Captain.’
The captain turned away with a grunt. ‘What the devil do you want?’
‘I was wondering,’ said Zachary evenly, ‘whether you’d given any thought to my proposal?’
The captain’s chin snapped up and his eyes flashed in anger.
Zachary returned his stare with an unperturbed smile. ‘We must recall, mustn’t we, Captain Mee,’ he said, ‘exactly what is at stake, for yourself and others — especially a certain lady?’
The veiled threat hung between them for a second or two while Captain Mee struggled for words. Then, in a low, gruff voice, he mumbled: ‘What do you require of me?’
At that a warm exultancy surged up in Zachary: he knew that he had won, that he had bent the captain to his will. He had suspected that the captain’s truculence was an expression not of strength but of insufficiency and this was now confirmed; Zachary understood that outside soldiering Captain Mee was at a loss to deal with the world and expected only failure and defeat. That he should capitulate to a bluff; that he should so readily abase himself to protect the woman he loved — all this seemed laughable to Zachary: how weak they were, these childlike, bumbling warriors, with all their talk of honour and conviction. It was all he could do not to gloat.
‘We mustn’t worry about the details, Captain,’ he said. ‘It’s the principle that matters and I’m glad we find ourselves in agreement on that.’
Zachary stuck out his hand again and this time he made sure to give the captain’s reluctantly proffered fingers a hearty shake. ‘It will be a pleasure doing business with you, Captain.’
As he turned away, Zachary heard the captain mumble, ‘Go to hell,’ and was tempted to laugh.
On the other side of the room Mr Burnham was still deep in discussion with his fellow merchants. Zachary made his way over, tapped Mr Burnham on the elbow and led him aside.
‘I’ve had a word with Captain Mee, sir.’
‘And what came of it? Is he amenable?’
‘I’m glad to tell you, sir,’ said Zachary proudly, ‘that he is.’
‘Good man!’ Mr Burnham beamed as he clapped Zachary on the back. ‘That’s all I needed to know. You can leave him to me now, I’ll handle the rest. It’s enough that you’ve brought him around — can’t have been easy, I imagine.’
‘No, sir,’ said Zachary. ‘It wasn’t.’
‘I won’t ask how you did it,’ said Mr Burnham. ‘But I do think you deserve a commission.’
In any other circumstances Zachary would have been flattered by Mr Burnham’s words. But the successful resolution of his encounter with Captain Mee had given him a new sense of confidence; in these opulent surroundings nothing seemed beyond his reach.
‘I hope you will not mind me saying so, sir,’ he said, ‘but a commission is not what I want.’
‘What do you want then?’ said Mr Burnham, taken aback.
‘What I’d really like, sir,’ said Zachary, ‘is to be a partner in your firm.’
Mr Burnham’s face darkened as he took this in. But then his lips curved into a smile. ‘Well, Reid,’ he said, stroking his beard, ‘I’ve always said that when the spirit of enterprise stirs in a young man, there’s no telling where it will take him! Let’s wait for this campaign to come to an end and then we’ll see what can be worked out.’
Reaching for Mr Burnham’s hand, Zachary gave it a hearty shake. ‘Thank you, sir. Thank you.’
This second success was enough to make Zachary giddy with triumph. But as he was wandering off in search of a celebratory glass of wine, it struck him that his victory was still incomplete and would remain so until Mrs Burnham knew of it. Only when word of it had been conveyed to her would his triumph be complete; there would be a sweet, subtle pleasure in stripping her of her illusions about her knight-in-armour.
The thought brought on a sharp pang of desire, making him hungry to see her again. It struck him now that if he played his cards carefully then she too might be persuaded to yield to him again. It was no more than he deserved. After all wasn’t it she herself who had broken the promise she had made to him? Hadn’t she said that when the time came to end their liaison they would meet one last time, for a night of delirious delight, before saying goodbye?
*
The distraught wavering of Neel’s handwriting, when he learnt of Raju’s arrival in China, was perhaps a better illustration of his state of mind than the disordered jumble of words that he jotted down in his notebook that night.
What happened was this: appearing unexpectedly at the Ocean Banner Monastery, Jodu told Neel that he had spent the last several weeks with Serang Ali, who had been summoned to Canton to help with the preparations for a renewed Chinese offensive.
One of Serang Ali’s tasks was to gather information about British troop and ship movements. A few days earlier rumours had reached Guangzhou that a large British force was to be moved to Whampoa; Serang Ali had been sent to Hong Kong to investigate. While there he had met up with their old comrade from the Ibis, Ah Fatt: he had confirmed that only one company of troops and a single ship now remained at Hong Kong; every other soldier and vessel in the British force had been sent forward to Whampoa and Canton.
But there was some other news too …
This was when Neel learnt, to his utter shock, that Raju had travelled to China and was now at Whampoa, on a ship, with a company of sepoys.
To remove the boy from the ship would be impossible, Jodu told Neel; their best hope of spiriting him away was to wait for the sepoys to come ashore. In Serang Ali’s current crew there were many local men; they would help.
But when will they come ashore?
Maybe very soon, said Jodu enigmatically. For all you know something big may happen soon; maybe even tomorrow.
The date was 19 May 1841.
*
All through the last week the hallways of the British Factory in Canton had been abuzz with rumours of an impending Chinese offensive. Duringthis time Zachary had been busy shuttling between the foreign enclave and Whampoa, transferring Mr Burnham’s goods to the Ibis.
Going back and forth in a longboat, Zachary had been able to observe for himself the renewed military preparations around Guangzhou: a huge encampment of soldiers had appeared at the eastern end of the city; new batteries had been built including a large one near Shamian Island, very close to the foreign enclave; and flotillas of war-junks had gathered inside the creeks that debouched into the Pearl River.
All of this was in plain view — as was the British force that had recently come to Whampoa from Hong Kong, bringing thousands of additional troops: it was led by the seventy-two-gun Blenheim, which towered over every other craft in the anchorage.
From all this and more it was amply clear that both sides were again preparing for war. Zachary was not in the least surprised when Mr Burnham announced, one afternoon, that the Chinese were expected to spring a surprise that night: Captain Elliot had issued instructions for the British Factory to be evacuated; the merchants who were resident there were to move to a vessel that was anchored opposite the foreign enclave. The Nemesis would be nearby, standing guard.