‘I think you had better stay with us tonight, Reid,’ said Mr Burnham. ‘I’ll have to remove all my goods from the factory and that’ll take a while. And the situation being what it is, it’ll be too risky to go back to Whampoa after nightfall.’
A couple of hours went by in moving the last of Mr Burnham’s crates and chests to the longboat. It was almost sunset by the time the job was completed.
A brief ceremony was held in front of the British Factory as the Union Jack was taken down: it was a solemn moment, for the flag had flown atop that mast for almost three months now. Then, along with all the other merchants, Zachary and Mr Burnham were rowed over to a schooner, Aurora, that was anchored off the foreign enclave: this was where they were to dine and spend the night.
No sooner had they stepped on board than Manchu bannermen were seen moving along the waterfront. It was clear that the attack was now imminent.
The guests ate a hurried meal and then gathered on the foredeck. It was a dark, moonless night and the riverfront, usually so noisy, was unnaturally quiet. There were no coracles shuttling between the shores and nor were there any pleasure-boats circling around White Swan Lake. British warships and cutters had been stationed at intervals along the riverfront; their lanterns formed a thin necklace of light in the darkness.
The foreign enclave was dark too, except for the American Factory, where a few merchants had stayed on. Although the British Factory was empty and shuttered its steeple-clock was still working: just as it struck eleven the battery at Shamian Island opened up with a great thunderclap. Seconds later the whole waterfront erupted as bright jets of fire spurted from a string of concealed batteries and gun-emplacements.
The Nemesis was the first to return fire. One by one the other warships followed, unloosing broadsides at the city’s batteries and gun-emplacements. Then, with a great crackling noise, sheets of flame appeared in the surrounding creeks.
‘Fire-raft! Dead astern!’ shouted the Aurora’s lookout.
Rushing aft, Zachary saw that a blazing boat was heading towards the Aurora. Nor was it the only one — many others quickly appeared, on the river and on White Swan Lake. It was as if a tide of fire were roiling the water.
But the use of fire-rafts had been anticipated by the British commanders: this was why cutters had been positioned along the river. They moved quickly now to intercept the blazing boats; armed with gaffs and poles, sailors pushed them aside, to burn out at a safe distance.
Even as this was going on, British gunships were intensifying their bombardment of the city. The Nemesis too took some hits and her engine was disabled for a while, but her guns continued to fire and the Algerine quickly pulled up alongside to provide support. Between them the two warships unleashed a terrific fusillade at the battery on Shamian Island, and it wasn’t long before its guns fell silent.
Yet, despite the pounding, the Chinese artillery continued to fire, hour after hour. Every time a gun was knocked out another would appear somewhere else.
Meanwhile fires were blazing in various parts of the city and crowds were milling about on the roadways. Through all this the foreign enclave had remained unscathed, for the British warships had been instructed to direct their fire away from it. This special treatment did not long escape the notice of the townsfolk: with the foreigners beyond their reach the foreign enclave was now the only target on which they could vent their rage.
In the small hours of the night a large crowd was seen to be advancing upon the enclave. A detachment of Royal Marines was sent over to rescue the Americans who had stayed behind; they were whisked away just as the crowd poured into the enclave.
From the safety of the Aurora the merchants watched as the doors of the factories were battered down. Then the crowds rushed inside, to carry away whatever they could find. After the buildings had been emptied they were set alight.
The factories were all lavishly constructed, with fine wooden panelling and parquet floors. They burned mightily, with upcurling plumes of fire shooting out of their doorways and windows.
The merchants on the Aurora watched in horror as the factories went up in flames. The spectacle was poignant even for Zachary whose acquaintance with the Thirteen Factories was very brief. Some of the other merchants had frequented those buildings for decades; some had accumulated vast fortunes there. Many began to weep.
By the time the sun rose the buildings had been reduced to charred skeletons.
After breakfast the senior merchants on the Aurora were summoned to a meeting on the Nemesis. On returning, Mr Burnham told Zachary that British gunships had destroyed dozens of war-junks and fire-boats during the night; as for guns, so many had been silenced that the number was yet to be computed. On the British side the toll was negligible: some injuries, a couple of dead, and a few lightly damaged ships. The Nemesis had been swiftly repaired and she had seen a great deal of action afterwards. In a single sortie the steamer had destroyed forty-three war-junks and thirty-two fire-rafts.
But the Chinese offensive was far from exhausted, said Mr Burham: it was thought that they still had many fire-rafts and attack-boats in reserve. The mopping-up operations would continue for a while yet: once completed the British forces would probably launch a punitive attack on the city, to demonstrate, once and for all, that these attempts at resistance were futile and that no more prevarication would be tolerated.
In the meantime the merchant ships anchored at Whampoa were to remain where they were until such time as a convoy was organized to take them to Hong Kong Bay. Zachary was to stay with the Ibis until the convoy departed; he was to proceed to Hong Kong with the other merchant ships.
‘And you, sir?’ said Zachary to Mr Burnham.
‘I’ve been asked to stay on in Canton for a while,’ said Mr Burnham. ‘When you get to Hong Kong would you be so good as to tell my wife that I’ll be back in a fortnight or so, after this bit of nonsense has been sorted out?’
‘Yes of course, sir,’ said Zachary. ‘I’ll go over to see Mrs Burnham as soon as I get there.’
*
At Hong Kong Bay it was so sultry that morning that Paulette woke up wondering whether she was in the grip of a fever. Her sheets and her nightclothes were drenched in sweat — yet inside her, at her core, there was an icy feeling of disquiet.
But when she mentioned it to Fitcher he said there was no reason to worry: it was just that the weather had taken an odd turn. The temperature had risen sharply and he had a feeling that a big storm was on the way.
During his time in southern China Fitcher had become familiar with the signs of an approaching typhoon: the sudden heat, the stifling humidity and the stillness of the air were to him as much harbingers of a ‘big blow’ as a falling barometer. So certain was he of this that he went out to the western end of Hong Kong Bay, in a boat, to see whether clouds had appeared on the southern horizon. That was the direction from which typhoons usually came, sweeping up from the south to lash the coast, battering Macau, Hong Kong and Kowloon before travelling northwards to Canton and beyond.
But there was not a cloud anywhere to be seen that morning; the sky was a flat white mirror, radiating heat.
The storm would not break for a while yet, Fitcher told Paulette, and it would probably be preceded by a few showers and spells of rain. That was how it usually happened: there was no immediate reason for concern.