Kesri didn’t know what to believe but duly apprised Captain Mee of the Madras sepoys’ story.
After hearing him out Captain Mee shrugged: ‘Well I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, havildar,’ he said, ‘that in situations like these it’s always easier to blame sepoys.’
Ji, Kaptán-sah’b.
‘And in this instance it’s a Madras havildar’s word against an English corporal’s.’
There was no need to say any more.
*
The Ibis was still a long way from Hong Kong when a bank of dark cloud hove into view on the horizon. The sight came as no surprise to Zachary: in the week that he had spent at Whampoa, waiting for the convoy of merchant ships to leave, he had seen plenty of signs of bad weather ahead. And the barometer, which had fallen steadily as the Ibis was sailing down the estuary, had removed all doubt about what lay in store.
But Zachary guessed that it would be a while yet before the storm hit the coast — probably not till early the next day, which meant that with any luck there would be enough daylight left for him to call on Mrs Burnham, in the Anahita, when the Ibis reached Hong Kong.
But when the convoy drew abreast of the island the Anahita did not immediately come into view, even though the bay was unusually thin of vessels. Evidently many skippers had decided to move their ships elsewhere, in anticipation of a storm. This was for the best, of course, since it reduced the possibility of collisions — but that was small consolation for Zachary, who had been looking forward to seeing Mrs Burnham.
But it turned out that the Anahita had not left Hong Kong Bay after all, she was merely hidden behind the Druid. She was anchored at the eastern end of the bay, abreast of Mr Burnham’s recently built godown, at East Point.
Zachary took the Ibis in the same direction and hove to within two fathoms of the Anahita. As soon as the schooner was properly anchored he called for the longboat to be lowered.
Within fifteen minutes Zachary was within hailing distance of the Anahita. Scanning the decks he spotted a familiar daub of saffron bobbing about on the maindeck. ‘Is that you, Baboo?’ he shouted, through cupped hands.
‘Yes, Master Zikri. And how are you? Hale and hearty I hope?’
‘Yes, Baboo, never better. Is Mrs Burnham aboard?’
‘Correct, Master Zikri — Burra Memsah’b is here.’
‘I have a message for her, from Mr Burnham. Please tell her I’m coming aboard right now.’
‘Yes, Master Zikri; ekdum jaldee.’
By the time Zachary had climbed up the Anahita’s side-ladder Baboo Nob Kissin was back on the maindeck, waiting to greet him.
‘Baboo, you know there’s a storm coming, don’t you?’ said Zachary.
‘Yes, Master Zikri — I will go ashore this evening, for safekeeping. Burra Memsah’b will also go. We will sit in Mr Burnham’s godown — a room has been specially prepared for Burra Memsah’b. Only sailors will remain on Anahita.’
‘I’m glad to hear that,’ said Zachary. ‘And where is Mrs Burnham now? Did you give her my message?’
‘Yes, Master Zikri — Burra Memsah’b is waiting you on the quarter-deck.’
‘Thank you, Baboo.’
Zachary stepped up the companion-ladder to find Mrs Burnham standing alone by the bulwark, watching the sunset: her white carriage-dress had taken on the rosy sheen of the sky and her hair was glowing in the fading light.
Zachary came to a sudden stop: her allure had never been greater and something began to ache inside him — it was like the soreness of an old wound, a reminder not just of the injury itself but also of its cause. When Mrs Burnham greeted him by saying, ‘I am very happy to see you, Mr Reid,’ it was as if a scab had come off. He told himself that if she was pleased to see him it was only because she was impatient for news of Captain Mee — and in the wake of this the jealousy that was seething inside him bubbled up and brimmed over, spilling salt upon old wounds.
‘I am glad to see you too, Mrs Burnham,’ he said stiffly, struggling to keep his composure. ‘I came because your husband had asked me to convey a message to you.’
‘What is it?’
‘He has been detained in Canton. He will be back as soon as things are more settled there, perhaps in a fortnight or so.’
Mrs Burnham’s smile died away and a look of concern descended on her face. ‘I believe there has been much trouble in Canton of late,’ she said. ‘I was very worried — about Mr Burnham, and you … and all our other friends.’
Zachary could not restrain the sardonic laugh that now burst from his throat. ‘Oh come, Mrs Burnham! There is no need to be coy, with me least of all; if you were worried I am sure it was not on behalf of either your husband or myself.’
‘But you are wrong, Mr Reid!’ she protested. ‘You are never far from my thoughts, I assure you.’
‘But nor am I so close, I’ll wager’ — his bitterness was so powerful now that he could no longer disguise it — ‘as Captain Mee. Come, admit it, Mrs Burnham, it was for him that you were worried, weren’t you?’
‘Amongst others, yes, certainly, I will not deny it.’
‘Then I am sure you will be happy to know,’ said Zachary, ‘that the last time I spoke to him he was in the best of health.’
‘Oh?’
He had wanted to catch her unawares and was pleased to see that he had succeeded.
‘I did not know,’ said Mrs Burnham, ‘that you were acquainted with Captain Mee.’
‘I certainly am, Mrs Burnham. I made his acquaintance at your husband’s suggestion.’
This too took her by surprise, exactly as Zachary had intended. ‘But what,’ said Mrs Burnham, ‘did my husband want with Captain Mee?’
‘Surely, Mrs Burnham,’ said Zachary, ‘that question needs no answer? I think you know as well as I do why your husband likes to keep a few soldiers in his pocket — you’ve told me so yourself. It is a lucrative business and your husband has been showing me the ropes. That was why he suggested that I make overtures to Captain Mee.’
Mrs Burnham’s eyes widened. ‘Are you saying you tried to offer him a dustoorie?’
‘Exactly.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘Oh he spurned me in no uncertain terms,’ said Zachary. ‘He even threatened to report me to his superiors.’
She had evidently been holding her breath for she let it out now in a long sigh.
‘I would have expected no less of him,’ she said with quiet pride. ‘He cares nothing for money or worldly advancement.’
Zachary allowed her to feast on this thought for a few seconds. Then he flashed her a smile: ‘Well, Mrs Burnham, I trust you will not be too disappointed then to learn that I was able to bring Captain Mee around.’
She turned to him in shock, her knuckles whitening on the gunwale. ‘What do you mean “bring him around”?’
‘Only that I succeeded in changing his mind.’
‘But how?’
‘I told him,’ said Zachary, ‘that if he carried tales about me, he would run the risk of being exposed as an adulterer.’
Mrs Burnham gasped and clapped a hand on her mouth. ‘No! You did not dare!’
‘You’re wrong there, Mrs Burnham,’ said Zachary. ‘Not only did I dare, I informed him also that he was not the only one to enjoy your favours.’
‘No!’ she cried. ‘I do not believe it!’
‘Well you should,’ said Zachary, ‘because it is true.’
‘And what was his answer?’
Zachary laughed. ‘He is, as you know, an impetuous man, so you will not be surprised to hear that he was beside himself with rage — I think he might even have killed me. But once again I was able to get the better of him.’