Authors: Amitav Ghosh
Flood of Fire (21 page)
On top of all this, fevers and disorders of the stomach took a terrible toll. Such was the rate of attrition that the naik of Kesri's platoon was twice replaced, the second time by none other than Hukam Singh.
One day, Kesri's platoon was sent ahead of the column to reconnoitre a village. The settlement was just a cluster of huts, shaded by coconut palms â the very picture of tranquillity. But by the time the sepoys got there they were tired out, having been on the march for several hours. In any case, they had passed through many such villages before, without incident. They were not at their most vigilant, as a result of which they walked straight into a close-quarters ambush.
Hukam Singh was in the lead and he was the first to be cut down, with multiple wounds to his thigh and groin. Kesri happened to be with him at the time. He fought off the attackers until the platoon regrouped and drove the Burmese away.
Hukam Singh was still alive but was bleeding profusely. They tied up his wounds, made a litter, and took turns carrying him back. For much of the way Hukam Singh seemed to be in a delirium, alternately thanking Kesri for saving his life and expressing remorse for his past treatment of him. At the end, when they finally rejoined the column and handed him over to the battalion's medical orderlies, Hukam Singh caught hold of Kesri's hand and said: You saved my life â my life is yours now. I cannot forget what you did for me.
Kesri didn't put much store by these words, thinking them to be a part of his delirium. But a few days later he received a summons from Bhyro Singh, who was now a jemadar. Bhyro Singh told Kesri that on the basis of a strong recommendation from Hukam Singh the battalion's CO had decided to promote him to the rank of naik.
Kesri was so elated that it was only at the end of the interview that he remembered to inquire about Hukam Singh's condition.
Hukam Singh kaisan baadan?
How is Hukam Singh?
Bhyro Singh did not mince his words: Hukam Singh's soldiering
days were over, he said. If he recovered from his wounds, he would have to go back to his village.
Many months went by before Kesri saw Hukam Singh again. In the interim the Pacheesi saw a great deal of fighting, in the Arakan and in southern Burma. Kesri was himself wounded again, in an action near Rangoon. Fortunately for him the wound was a âlucky' one in that it wasn't severe. It also got him a bonus that excited much envy among his friends â so much so that Seetul said:
Kesri, tu ne to hagte me bater maar diya!
, âKesri, you dropped a turd and killed a partridge!'
As a bonus, instead of having to march all the way back to Calcutta, Kesri returned on a ship: the first steam-powered vessel ever seen in the East â the
Enterprize
.
After returning to Barrackpore Kesri went to see Hukam Singh at the cantonment hospital. He found him so changed that it was as though he had become a different man. He was walking now, but with a pronounced limp; he was also much thinner, and looked as if the flesh of his face had wasted away. But the changes in his speech and demeanour were even greater than the alterations in his appearance. A look of resigned melancholy had replaced the malice that had so often lurked in his eyes before. He seemed almost gentle, like a man who had found some kind of inner peace.
Over the next few years, the men of the Pacheesi were almost continuously in the field, fighting in Assam, Tripura and the Jungle-Mahals. Occasionally sepoys would go home on leave, and since many of them were related to Hukam Singh, Kesri would occasionally get news of him. He learnt that Hukam Singh had gone back to his village, near Ghazipur, and that Bhyro Singh had got him a good job at the opium factory.
Then one day, some three years after the Arakan campaign, Kesri was summoned by Bhyro Singh, who was now at the very top of the ladder of sepoy ranks â a subedar. His brother, Nirbhay Singh, now a jamadar, was also with him.
Was it true, they wanted to know, that Kesri had a younger sister who was still unmarried?
This was completely unexpected but Kesri gathered his wits together and said yes, it was true that his youngest sister, Deeti, was still unmarried.
They explained to him that they had received a letter from Hukam Singh: he and his brother Chandan had gone to the mela near Nayanpur, and had learnt about Deeti from the sadhus. Hukam Singh was keen to marry her and had asked Kesri to intercede with his parents.
But is Hukam Singh well enough to get married? said Kesri. He wasn't in good health when I last saw him.
Bhyro Singh nodded: Yes, Hukam Singh has recovered his health, although he will always walk with a limp. He wants nothing more than to marry.
Seeing that Kesri was still unconvinced, Bhyro Singh added: What is to lose? I hear your sister's stars are not good, and she is already of an age when it will be hard for her to find a husband. Hukam Singh has a good job and several bighas of land. Isn't this a good offer?
The truth of this could not be denied: Kesri knew that his parents were worried about Deeti's marital prospects and he did not doubt that they would be overjoyed by the proposal. And nor would Hukam Singh, in his present state, make an objectionable husband: he was a changed man now; no longer was he the vicious bully he had been in the past.
Yet, something in Kesri jibbed at the thought of handing his beloved Deeti to a member of Bhyro Singh's family.
Bhyro Singh must have read his reluctance on his face, for he said: Listen, Naik Kesri Singh, there is another thing you should consider: this marriage would link your family to ours and it would make you one of us. And if you were one of us, we would see to it that you were quickly promoted to havildar. What do you say? Why don't we settle it right now? I am going home on leave soon, and I would like to see Hukam Singh settled and married while I am there.
Kesri realized then that this was not just an offer but also a threat. A promotion had been due to him for a while and he knew that the only reason he had not received it was because Bhyro Singh, as the battalion's subedar, had not supported it. If he turned down this offer now another promotion might never come his way.
He took a deep breath.
Hokhe di jaisan kahtani
, he said. Let it be as you say; I will send a letter home.
Within a few months the marriage was arranged. Kesri was unable to attend the wedding but he heard about it from Bhyro Singh, who told him that everything had gone exactly as it was meant to and the marriage had been duly consummated on the wedding night. Deeti had been found to be a virtuous woman, a virgin.
At the end of the year, he heard from his family that Deeti had given birth to a daughter, by the name of Kabutri.
The next year Kesri went on leave again, for the fourth time in his twelve years of service. He was now the father of three children, one boy and two girls. His second daughter had been born after his last visit and he had yet to see her.
During his stay in Nayanpur, Deeti came to visit, with her daughter. She had looked a little careworn and had stayed only a couple of nights: but as far as Kesri could tell she was content with her lot â she had certainly made no complaint and just before leaving she had painted a picture of Kabutri and given it to Kesri. He still had it in his keeping.
It grieved Kesri now to think of his little sister as a widow already. He could not understand why his family had not written, or sent word of what had happened.
Six
November 4, 1839
Honam
Two days ago an urgent letter arrived from Zhong Lou-si, who is away in another county, touring with Commissioner Lin. The letter said that Compton and I were to leave immediately for Whampoa, to catch a passage-boat. We were to travel to Humen, which is the location of a customs house where every incoming ship has to obtain clearance to proceed to Canton.
Apparently a British-owned vessel, the
Royal Saxon
, had just come in from Java; the captain, an Englishman, had indicated that he wanted to proceed to Canton with his goods. The captain had even indicated that he was willing to sign a bond, forswearing the opium trade, on penalty of his life. This was good news for us, because Captain Elliot has for the last several months prevented British merchants from coming to Canton because he did not want them to sign the bond. But here at last was a sign that British merchants were at last willing to defy the Plenipotentiary himself â this was exactly what Commissioner Lin has been hoping for. One other English vessel had already broken Captain Elliot's embargo: if the
Royal Saxon
too was able to proceed to Canton then many others would surely follow â it would be a great victory for Commissioner Lin!
Our instructions were to serve as translators for the customs house officials who'd be dealing with the captain and crew: our job was to make sure that there were no
misunderstandings. The sailors were mainly lascars, which was why it was necessary for me to be present. Since I'm classified as a
yi
, a foreigner, Zhong Lou-si had enclosed a special chop, to make sure that I encountered no official difficulties.
Humen overlooks the channel that Europeans call the Bogue or Bocca Tigris â the âTiger's Mouth'. It is about one hundred and eighty Chinese
li
from Guangzhou â about sixty English miles â and the journey, by boat, usually takes a day and a half.
We had no time to waste: the tide had just crested at Guangzhou and Compton said that the passage-boats would depart when the current turned. I went home to pack a few things, and we met again at Jackass Point, in the foreign enclave. From there a ferry took us to Whampoa where we caught a passage-boat for Humen.
The se boats are long, caterpillar-like vessels, crowded with passengers, livestock, cargo and vendors. Our official chop was a big help and we were able to find a quiet corner in which to settle in for the night.
We reached Humen in the late afternoon, on the second day. The town is of modest size, but it adjoins the largest defensive field-works of the Pearl River. There is a fort there with a massive battery of guns; it serves as the channel's gatekeeper â foreigners call it the fort of Anunghoy. Behind the fort, the shore slopes steeply upwards, to form a crested ridge. At the top of this hill there is another fortified gun-emplacement with a powerful battery of cannon.
The harbour at Humen is dominated by the customs house: this is where we had been told to go. On arriving there we learnt that the
Royal Saxon
was already at anchor nearby: the ship's captain was under instructions to proceed to the customs house next morning, to sign the bond. But in the meantime, a squadron of British vessels, with Captain Elliot on board, had also sailed in from Hong Kong, no doubt with the intention of preventing the
Royal Saxon
from approaching Humen. Everyone was
on edge, wondering what would happen the next day.
Compton had thought that we would stay either at the customs house in Humen or at a nearby yamen. But on inquiring we learnt that there was no room for us in either. We were told that we would have to make other arrangements. Although Compton was disappointed, I was relieved: it was clear that the customs house officials were suspicious of me despite my official credentials; I was none too keen to remain there.
We went into Humen, to look for an inn, but these too were filled to capacity: apparently a massive project is under way to strengthen the fortifications of the Tiger's Mouth, and large numbers of workers and overseers have flooded into the town.
Fortunately, Compton has relatives nearby, which is only natural since he is a native of that county. They live in a hamlet, on a neighbouring island called Shaitok (foreigners call it Chuenpee). We took a ferry over and met with a warm welcome from Compton's relatives.
In the late afternoon the boys of the house took us for a long walk. The island is lush and leafy, with two conical hills. But its prettiness is deceptive: like Humen, Chuenpee bristles with cannon. Right on the water, there is a massive gun-emplacement: it looks across the Tiger's Mouth towards Tytock, on the far side of the channel, where there is another large battery. On the summit of Chuenpee's tallest hill there is another fort, a small one. The hill commands a panoramic view of the surroundings. The landscape was breathtaking: it was as if a scroll-painting had appeared before my eyes. To the east the estuary broadens into a wide funnel, with Hong Kong on one side and Macau on the other; to the west, the Pearl River meanders through a verdant plain, heading off in the direction of Guangzhou. The water of the estuary is a brilliant, sparkling blue, broken here and there by forested islands. On the far shore there are jagged mountains, with misted peaks.
Compton had brought a telescope with him, and we
took turns examining the ships below. The Chinese fleet was concentrated at Tytock, on the other side of the channel: it consisted of sixteen war-junks, with castella-tions, fore and aft. Matted sails hung from their masts, projecting obliquely upwards, like the wings of moths. They were bedecked with streaming pennants and banners, and their bows were decorated with large, painted eyes. They were certainly
faa faa hik hik
â extremely colourful in appearance, but in size they were small, no more than a hundred feet in length, about as much as the
Ibis
if not less. Even ordinary trading junks are larger; as for European vessels, even a sixth-rate British warship is far bigger and heavier.
Swarming between the war-junks were many small boats and a dozen or so rafts with black flags: these were âfire-vessels' Compton said; they are used as incendiary weapons, to spread flames amongst enemy ships. Some of them also carry âstink-bombs' â chemical devices that disperse noxious gases and fumes.
The British ships were a couple of miles to the east, where the estuary broadens. The squad was a small one, consisting of a couple of ships' boats and two warships. By British standards these were small vessels, and far from fearsome; one was I think a sloop-of-war and the other a small frigate. I guessed that according to the Royal Navy's scale of ratings, they were fourth-rate warships.
Between the two squadrons, like a plump fish caught between two schools of predators, was the
Royal Saxon
, anchored beside an island. Scanning her decks with a spyglass, I spotted many turbaned heads â lascars! I began to wonder how I'd have felt in their position, caught between British and Chinese warships?
On the way back to the hamlet, Compton said he thought the British warships would
beih fung tauh
â avoid trouble. There are just two of them, what can they do against sixteen ships?
I thought it best to say nothing.
Next morning we went back to the customs house at Humen. The officials told us that we would not be needed after all: a chop had already been issued to the
Royal Saxon
and she would soon be coming through, on her way to Whampoa.
There was nothing for us to do, so we decided to go back to Chuenpee to pick up our things. As we were approaching the hamlet, we saw the boys of the house running towards the top of the hill. We began to run too and soon caught up with one of Compton's nephews. We went up the hill together and on reaching the top we saw that the
Royal Saxon
had hoisted sail and was heading towards the Chinese customs house at Humen. This had roused the two British warships to give chase: they were about half a mile behind her, with every mast and yard crowded with canvas.
All of this had happened very quickly, and the Chinese fleet was clearly taken unawares. The war-junks and even the smaller boats were still at their moorings; not a single vessel had budged.
The two British warships closed quickly on the
Royal Saxon
. First the frigate flashed warnings with her signal flags. Then, with a puff of smoke and a booming report, a single cannon-shot was fired across the
Royal Saxon's
bows.
Compton, who was standing beside me, could not believe his eyes: Are they going to attack an English ship?
I told him that they weren't really attacking the
Royal Saxon
â they were warning her not to break the embargo by proceeding to Canton.
The
Royal Saxon
had taken heed and had already begun to change course. She now tacked steeply to starboard. Meanwhile, the Chinese ships had begun to move too; led by the largest of the junks, they brought their bows around and began to advance towards the British ships.
The two English warships slackened pace a little, but when it became clear that the junks were on course to
intercept them, the sloop fell behind the frigate, to form a line of battle.
The war-junks were now bunched together, with the fire-boats and rafts swarming between them. As the warships drew abreast, one of the fire-boats was set alight and pushed towards the approaching frigate. Neither of the warships veered from their course â the fire-boat was moving too slowly to do them any harm. Holding steady, the English ships closed to a distance of less than a hundred feet. When the Chinese squadron was directly a-beam of them, the frigate flashed a signal, and the two warships unloosed their first broadside.
Puffs of smoke blossomed along the starboard beams of both warships. By the time the sound had crossed the water, the Chinese fleet was obscured from our sight by a dense white cloud. Moments later a noise of a different kind came across â a sickening sound of splintering and crackling, pierced by screams and shouts.
When the smoke cleared the stretch of water where the Chinese fleet had been was utterly transformed: it was as if a sheet of lightning had come down from the sky, to set the channel on fire. Dozens of masts had been shattered; some had been blasted into the water and some had crashed down on the junks' decks, killing and maiming the men below. A couple of junks were listing steeply, their bows rising as water flooded into their punctured hulls. Of the burning fire-boat nothing remained but a few, flaming pieces of wood. Around the wreckage, the water was churning with flailing limbs and bobbing heads.
I had to shut my eyes. When I opened them again I saw that the largest of the junks had begun to move again: apparently this was the only vessel in the Chinese fleet that was still capable of functioning. Although two of her masts were gone, she slowly turned her bows around and fired off a volley. It served no purpose: the two British warships were far away, turning sharply for their next run.
Compton told me the big junk was Admiral Guan's and handed me his telescope. Putting it to my eye, I caught a glimpse of an elderly man, trying desperately to rally his blood-spattered, reeling crew. In the meantime, the two British warships had completed their turn and were heading back to deliver their second broadside. As they drew abreast, the admiral turned to face them, looking directly into the cannon: it was an act of hopeless defiance.
Once again a curtain of smoke rose from the flanks of the two warships; once again the junks disappeared from view. This time, the sound of the fusillade was followed by a much greater noise, an explosion that sent great sheets of flame and debris shooting into the air. When the blast reached the hill the ground shook beneath our feet. It was clear that they had hit a magazine because a great tower of flame rose from the water.
When the smoke cleared we saw that one of the junks had burst open, like a shattered eggshell. The detonation hurled a mass of flying debris at the surrounding vessels, riddling them with gaping holes.
In the distance, the two British warships were sailing serenely back to their anchorage. They had suffered no damage other than a few minor burns caused by flaming debris.
Around us, many were weeping, including Compton's nephew.
It's the end, he sobbed, it's finished.
Compton put an arm around his shoulders. No, it's not finished, I heard him say. This is just the beginning.