Flood of Fire (63 page)

Here a burst of applause interrupted Mr Burnham; he raised a hand to acknowledge it before resuming.

‘Let us not forget that at the heart of this conflict lie two precious and inviolable values, freedom and dignity. This war will be fought not only to liberate the Sons of Han from Manchu tyranny, but also to protect our own dignity, which has suffered greater outrages in this land than in any other.'

This was answered by a spontaneous chorus of ‘Shame! Shame!'

Mr Burnham let the shouts die down before continuing: ‘Is it conceivable that we should forever swallow the insults that are hurled at white men in this land? Shall we always permit ourselves to be vilified as “barbarians”, “foreign devils”, “red-haired demons” and the like?'

The gathering responded with a roar: ‘No! Never!'

‘Is it conceivable,' said Mr Burnham, ‘that we, who stand under the proudest, most warlike flag on earth, should not seek satisfaction for repeated and heinous affronts to the representatives of our most gracious Sovereign?'

Again he paused and again the gathering answered with a roar: ‘No!'

‘So be it,' said Mr Burnham. ‘Let the Celestials taste the retribution they have invited upon themselves and let us hope that it will make them turn towards the path of redemption – for does not the Good Book say, “If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not?” Indeed I envy the Chinese their good fortune in that the rod of their chastening will be wielded by hands like these.'

Reaching for Captain Mee's wrist, Mr Burnham held up his arm, drawing cheers from the audience.

Now, with the last rays of the setting sun shining directly on him, Mr Burnham's face reddened, as if in exaltation: ‘I have not the least doubt, gentlemen, that God will bless and aid you in your endeavour, for it is His work that you will be doing. When the task is finished China will be changed beyond recognition: this will be your legacy to history. Future generations will read with wonder of the miracle that you have wrought. Truly will it be said
that never in the history of the world was so great a transformation brought about by so small a company of men!'

As cheers erupted around him, Mr Burnham raised a hand: ‘And now, gentlemen, let us say a prayer.'

*

Paulette was murmuring the words of the prayer, with her head lowered, when she caught another glimpse of Zachary and realized that he was still hovering nearby. She would make her escape as soon as the prayer was over, she decided – but before she could slip away she was distracted by another announcement: ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, a salute to our flag, by our fine Bengal sepoys.'

Even as Kesri was calling out the first command, Zachary was whispering in Paulette's ear: ‘There is something I need to say to you …'

Escape being impossible now, Paulette headed aft, to the far end of the deck, where there was no danger of their being overheard. At every step she felt that she was being pushed literally to her limit; when she reached the bulwark she turned on Zachary, eyes blazing: ‘No, Mr Reid!' she hissed. ‘There is nothing that you need to say to me. Was your letter not enough? I know you now for what you are – a liar and betrayer. You are a person whose words are without worth or value. There is nothing you can say that would be of the least interest to me.'

These words, and the vehemence with which they were spoken, stung Zachary so deeply that his carefully composed apology wilted on his tongue. He could not think why he had indulged Mrs Burnham's hopes of a reconciliation: why should he be saddled with the task of making amends for a misunderstanding on her part? He had done more than enough for Paulette in the past and had never had anything but grief for his pains: his chief impulse now was to make Paulette eat her words, even the least of them – and at just that moment a shouted command drew his eyes to Kesri, who was standing at attention, at the far end of the maindeck, with his sword ceremonially upraised.

Suddenly Zachary knew exactly what he had to say.

‘Did you mean it, Miss Lambert,' he said, ‘when you said that I have nothing of interest to say to you?'

‘Yes I did.'

‘Very well then – I shall undertake to prove you wrong.'

Zachary turned to point to Kesri who was now shouting a command at the squad of sepoys.

‘You see the havildar over there?' said Zachary. ‘That tall sepoy? Well, I think it will be of great interest to you, Miss Paulette, to know who he is.'

‘Why? Who is he?'

Zachary paused so that his revelation, when it was made, would have the maximum effect: ‘He is the brother of your friend from the
Ibis
– Ditty.'

Paulette drew back, in shock. ‘I do not believe you, Mr Reid,' she said, in a wavering voice. ‘You have misled me many times before – why should I repose any trust in what you say?'

‘Because it is true, Miss Lambert. The havildar and I travelled here on the same ship, the
Hind
. Somehow he found out that I had been on the
Ibis
. He came to speak to me about his sister and I told him what I knew. He asked me not to tell anyone about it, and I have respected his request, till today. But you at least should know who he is – for perhaps it will help you to remember that it was because of Ditty that you came to my cabin that night, on the
Ibis
; it was for her sake that you begged me to let her husband escape, along with the other fugitives. I did as you asked, and for that I have had to spend many months in confinement, sleeping on cold stone floors, while you' – now, as the memories of all his old grievances came flooding back, Zachary's tone sharpened – ‘while you were lying on a bed of flowers and roses, having been adopted by a rich man.'

Stung into silence, Paulette could think of no retort.

‘Yes, Miss Lambert,' Zachary continued, ‘the
Ibis
has left us with many secrets and I have been faithful in keeping them. I may not be as much of a betrayer and liar as you think.'

Listening to him Paulette was suddenly, blindingly aware of the import of his words: she understood that no matter how much she might want to be finished with Zachary, she would never be free of him – the bond of the
Ibis
was like a living thing, endowed with the power to reach out from the past to override the volition of those who were enmeshed in it. It was as if she were being mocked for harbouring the illusion that she was free to decide her own destiny.

Before she could think of anything more to say Zachary tipped his hat at her and bowed: ‘Good day, Miss Lambert. I do not know if we shall meet again but if we do you may be sure that it will not be by my design.'

*

A burst of applause rang out as the sepoys' salute drew to a close. When it had faded Mrs Burnham, who had been sitting beside Shireen, on the quarter-deck, rose to her feet: ‘The sepoys have performed so splendidly that I feel I should thank the havildar myself.'

This proposal received an enthusiastic endorsement from her husband: ‘Of course you must, dear,' he said. ‘And we must make sure that they are served some refreshments.'

Down on the maindeck, by dint of habit, Kesri was tracking the flow of people on the
Anahita
's decks as though they were troops on a battlefield. For the most part his attention was centred on Captain Mee and Mrs Burnham: they were like the standard-bearers, providing points of orientation in the midst of the dust and smoke of battle; he kept track of their whereabouts almost without being aware of it. He had noticed that after their initial meeting beside the side-ladder – when his own, speedy intervention had saved the captain from making a fool of himself – the two of them had stayed well away from each other. Now, seeing that Mrs Burnham was coming towards him, Kesri snapped to attention, fixing his eyes on a point in the middle distance. When she said – Salaam Kesri Singh! – he snapped off a salute, without looking directly at her.

Salaam, memsah'b.

You and your men performed very well, Kesri Singh.

Aap ki meherbani hai
; you are kind to say so, Cathymemsah'b.

Then passed a moment of silence and when she spoke again it was in a completely different tone, flat and urgent. Kesri Singh, she said, we have very little time and I do not want to waste any of it.

Ji, memsah'b.

I want to ask you something, Kesri Singh. It is about Mee-sahib.

Ji, Cathy memsah'b.

Is he married?

No, Cathy memsah'b, he is not.

Oh.

She paused and her voice fell: Then maybe he has a … a …
kali-bibi
, ‘a black wife'?

I cannot say, Cathy memsah'b. He is my kaptán-sah'b. We don't speak about such things.

Even as he was saying this Kesri guessed she would not be taken in; as a military daughter she was sure to know that such matters were impossible to conceal within a battalion.

Nor was he mistaken; he could tell from her face that she had interpreted his response as a rebuff.

So you don't want to talk to me, Kesri Singh, is that it?

There is nothing to tell, Cathy memsah'b. Mee-sah'b is not married and there is no woman in his keep.

Has he ever spoken of me?

Not to me, no, memsah'b.

Is that all then? You have nothing else to say to me?

The desperation in her voice stirred Kesri's pity.

There is one thing I can tell you, Cathymemsah'b, said Kesri.

Yes?

Ek baar
, said Kesri, one time, twelve years after that winter in Ranchi, Mee-sah'b was wounded in some fighting. I was beside him and I was the one who removed his koortee. In the pocket, near the breast – Kesri raised a hand to touch his heart – there were some papers.

She gasped: What papers?

I think it was your letter.

My letter?

Yes, Cathy memsah'b. I think it was the letter you gave me, to give to him, all those years ago, in Ranchi.

Kesri knew, because two shimmering dots had appeared at the lower edge of his vision, that her eyes were glistening. And at the same moment he saw that Captain Mee was coming down the companion-ladder, advancing towards them. In an attempt to warn Mrs Burnham, he allowed his eyes to flicker away. Glancing over her shoulder she saw that the captain was heading in their direction; she turned quickly away to busy herself with her reticule.

‘Ah Mrs Burnham,' said Captain Mee, in a tone of forced banter.
‘I hope my havildar is not giving away all our battalion's secrets? He seems to have a lot to say to you.'

‘Why Captain Mee,' said Mrs Burnham, speaking as he had, in a bantering tone. ‘I trust you're not jealous of your havildar?'

Then suddenly the air seemed to go out of her lungs.

‘Oh please, Neville,' she said in a soft, shaky voice. ‘How long must we pretend?'

The directness of her tone caught Captain Mee off-guard, wrecking his composure. Like rings on a pond, the pain, yearning and disappointments of the last twenty years seemed to ripple across his face. When next he spoke, his tone was like that which Kesri had heard in his tent, a few days before: the voice of a hurt, bewildered nineteen-year-old.

‘Cathy, I don't know what to say. I've been waiting so long – and now …'

From under the brim of her hat Mrs Burnham shot Kesri a glance that brimmed with gratitude. Then slowly they moved away.

*

‘There you are, Reid!'

Throwing an arm over Zachary's shoulder, Mr Burnham led him aside. ‘Have you been able to have a word with Captain Mee yet?'

‘Not yet, sir,' said Zachary. ‘It may be difficult here, with so many people about, but I'll try.'

‘Best to do it now,' said Mr Burnham. ‘If we don't get to him soon you may be sure that someone else will.'

With that Mr Burnham went off to talk to a guest while Zachary took a turn around the crowded quarter-deck, looking for Captain Mee. Seeing no sign of him, his eyes strayed to the maindeck and landed instead on Mrs Burnham: he saw, to his surprise, that she was deep in conversation with – of all people! – the sarjeant of the Bengal sepoys.

Zachary had watched Mrs Burnham from afar at many parties and levées: it seemed to him now that there was something odd about her bearing; her posture was not at all like that of her usual, social self. Her head was cocked in such a way as to suggest that she was hanging on the sepoy sarjeant's every word.

But what could a havildar have to say that would be of such interest to her?

Even as he was mulling this over, Zachary noticed that a uniformed figure was heading towards the pair. A moment later he realized that this was none other than Captain Mee.

Zachary froze. Standing riveted to the deck, he watched as Mrs Burnham and Captain Mee spoke to each other. When they moved away from Kesri, he leant forward, his knuckles whitening on the deck-rails. At that point Mrs Burnham happened to turn her head so that the glow of a paper lantern fell directly on her face. Zachary had to stifle a gasp – for the countenance she had turned to Captain Mee was not her public visage but rather the one that Zachary had himself come to recognize in her boudoir. So far as he knew there was only one other man who had ever been privy to this other aspect of Mrs Burnham – and that man was a soldier, a lieutenant, she had said, her first and only love.

Zachary noticed now that Captain Mee's red-coated shoulders were also inclined towards Mrs Burnham in a manner that suggested a more than casual acquaintance. Suddenly suspicion boiled up in him, to be followed by an onrush of jealousy so intense that he had to hold on to the rails to steady himself.

What were they talking about, looking at each other so intimately?

Zachary had to know; the curiosity that had taken possession of him was too powerful to be resisted. Before he was aware of it, his feet were moving, carrying him down the companion-ladder to the maindeck. Plunging into the throng of guests, he began to work his way towards the couple. But he was only a few paces away when he thought the better of it: if Mrs Burnham spotted him she might well guess what he was up to.