A pipa of fresh water had been placed in the shade of the deckhouse and a mess-boy was dipping into it to pour a couple of ladlefuls into each woman's lota. The jamna longboat was hanging a few steps aft of it and Paulette saw that several women had taken shelter beneath it, some squatting on their haunches and some lying prostrate: she pulled herself along the rails and squatted beside them, in the last remaining patch of shade. Like the others, Paulette drank deeply from her vessel before pouring the last trickle of moisture on her head, allowing it to seep slowly down the sweat-drenched ghungta that was draped over her face. With the water percolating through her parched innards, she began to feel the first tremors of life returning, not just to her body but also to her mind, which seemed to wake to consciousness after having lain long-dormant beneath her thirst.
Till this moment, defiance and determination had made Paulette wilfully blind to the possible privations of the voyage: she had told herself that she was younger and stronger than many of the others and had nothing to fear. But it was clear now that the weeks ahead would be hard beyond anything she had imagined; it was even possible that she would not live to see the journey's end. As the awareness of this took hold of her, she turned to look over her shoulder, at Ganga-Sagar Island, and found herself almost unconsciously trying to gauge the distance.
Then Bhyro Singh's voice rang out, signalling the completion of the muster: Sab házir hai! All present!
Turning aft, Paulette saw that Captain Chillingworth had appeared on the quarter-deck and was standing like a statue behind its balustrade of fife-rails. On the main deck, a ring of lascars, maistries and silahdars had been posted around the schooner's bulwarks to keep watch over the assembled girmitiyas.
Facing the assembly, lathi in hand, Bhyro Singh shouted: Khamosh! Silence! The Kaptan is going to speak and you will listen; the first to make a sound will feel my lathi on his head.
Up on the quarter-deck, the Captain was still motionless, with his hands clasped behind his back, calmly surveying the crowd on the deck. Although a light breeze had begun to blow now, it had little or no cooling effect, for the air seemed only to grow hotter under the Captain's gaze: when at last he spoke, his voice carried to the bows with the crackle of a leaping flame: 'Listen carefully to what I say, for none of it will be said again.'
The Captain paused to allow Baboo Nob Kissin to translate, and then, for the first time since he had appeared on the quarter-deck, his right hand came into view and was seen to be holding a tightly coiled whip. Without turning his head, he gestured towards Ganga-Sagar Island, pointing with the weapon's tip.
… In that direction lies the coast from which you came. In the other lies the sea, known to you as the Black Water. You may think that the difference between the one and the other can be seen clearly with the naked eye. But that is not so. The greatest and most important difference between land and sea is not visible to the eye. It is this – and note it well…
Now, as Baboo Nob Kissin was translating, the Captain leant forward and put his whip and his white-knuckled hands on the fife-rails.
… The difference is that the laws of the land have no hold on the water. At sea there is another law, and you should know that on this vessel I am its sole maker. While you are on the Ibis and while she is at sea, I am your fate, your providence, your lawgiver. This chabuk you see in my hands is just one of the keepers of my law. But it is not the only one – there is another…
Here, the Captain held up his whip and curled the lash around the handle to form a noose.
… This is the other keeper of the law, and do not doubt for a moment that I will use it without hesitation if it should prove necessary. But remember, always, there is no better keeper of the law than submission and obedience. In that respect, this ship is no different from your own homes and villages. While you are on her, you must obey Subedar Bhyro Singh as you would your own zemindars, and as he obeys me. It is he who knows your ways and traditions, and while we are at sea he will be your mái-báp, just as I am his. You should know that it is because of his intercession that no one is being punished today; he has pleaded for mercy on your behalf, since you are new to this ship and her rules. But you should know also that the next time there is any disorder on board, the consequences will be severe, and they will be visited upon everyone who plays a part in it; anyone who thinks to make trouble should know that this is what awaits them…
Now the lash of the whip coiled out to make a crack that split the overheated air like a bolt of lightning.
Despite the heat of the sun the Captain's words had chilled Paulette to the marrow. As she looked around her now, she could see that many of the girmitiyas were in a trance of fear: it was as if they had just woken to the realization that they were not only leaving home and braving the Black Water – they were entering a state of existence in which their waking hours would be ruled by the noose and the whip. She could see their eyes straying to the island nearby; it was so close that its attraction was almost irresistible. When a grizzled, middle-aged man began to babble, she knew by instinct that he was losing his struggle against the pull of land. Although forewarned, she was still among the first to scream when this man made a sudden turn, shoved a lascar aside, and vaulted over the deck rail.
The silahdars raised the alarm by shouting – Admi girah! Man overboard! – and the girimitiyas – most of whom had no idea what was happening – began to mill about in panic. Under cover of the commotion, two more migrants broke through and made the leap, hurling themselves over the bulwark.
This sent the guards into a frenzy and they started to flail their lathis in an effort to herd the men back into the dabusa. To add to the confusion, the lascars were busy ripping the covers off the jamna longboat; when they tilted it sideways a flock of squawking hens and roosters descended upon the deck. The malums too had converged upon the boat, shouting hookums and pulling at the devis, raising clouds of chicken-muck that plastered them in feathers, shit and feed.
Temporarily forgotten, the women were left to huddle around the jamna devis. Craning over the deck rail, Paulette saw that one of the three swimmers had already disappeared below water; the other two were thrashing against a current that was sweeping them towards the open sea. Then a great flock of birds appeared above the swimmers, swooping down from time to time, as if to check whether they were still alive. Within a few minutes the swimmers' heads vanished, but still the birds remained, wheeling patiently above, as they waited for the corpses to float back to the surface. Although the bodies were not seen again, it was clear, from the way the birds were circling in the sky, that the corpses had been seized by the outgoing tide and were being swept towards the horizon.
This was why, when at last the long-awaited wind began to blow, the crew was exceptionally slow in making saiclass="underline" because, after everything that had happened already, the prospect of crossing wakes with the three mutilated corpses had filled the lascars with an unspeakable dread.
Nineteen
Next morning, under a lamb's-wool sky, the Ibis ran into swells and gusts that set her to a frolicsome pitching. Many of the girmitiyas had begun to experience stirrings of discomfort while the Ibis was still on the Hooghly, for even at her most placid the schooner was a great deal livelier than the slow river-boats to which they were accustomed. Now, with the Ibis tipping all nines in a jabble-sea, many were reduced to a state of infantile helplessness.