River of Smoke it-2

by Amitav Ghosh

  As the reading proceeded, Bahram had the odd impression that he was listening not to the translator, but to some other voice that had taken command of the young man’s mouth and lips, a voice that was at once completely reasonable and utterly implacable. Bahram was astounded by this: how could the voice of this remote and distant figure, Lin Tse-hsu, have seized control of this youthful Englishman? Was it possible that some men possessed so great a force of character that they could stamp themselves upon their words such that no matter where they were read, or when, or in what language, their own distinctive tones would always be heard?

  Who was this man, this Lin Tse-hsu? What gave him this peculiar power, this authority, this unalloyed certainty?

  ‘ “I have now merely to lay on Elliott the responsibility of speedily and securely arranging these matters: the delivery of the opium and the giving of bonds in obedience to my orders. If he can take the opium that is on board the store-ships and at once deliver it up, it will be my duty to give him encouragement. If he has aught to say, and it be not inconsistent with reason, let him make a clear statement of it. But if he speaks not according to reason and imagines, amid the darkness of night, to abscond with his men, it will show the conviction within him that he can have no face to encounter his fellow men. Will he be able to escape the meshes of the vast and wide net of heaven?” ’

  Here, Mr Morrison lowered his notes in some embarrassment: ‘Shall I continue, Captain Elliott?’

  Captain Elliott’s face had reddened a little but he answered with a nod: ‘Yes. Please go on.’

  ‘ “It needs to be enjoined upon Elliott that he should come to have a fear of crime and a purpose to repent and amend; that he should give clear commands to all the foreigners to obey the orders, requiring them to speedily deliver up all the opium that is on board their store-ships. Thenceforward all the foreigners will conduct a legitimate trade, rejoicing in the exhaustless gains thereof. But if, assuming a false garb of ignorance, Elliott voluntarily draws troubles upon himself the evil consequences will be of his own working out, and where shall he find a place of repentance afterwards?’ ”

  *

  Bahram had shut his eyes and on opening them now he was glad to see that the translator had finished reading and was returning to his seat.

  Captain Elliott went again to stand by the mantelpiece. ‘Well, gentlemen,’ he said in his dry, unemphatic way, ‘Commissioner Lin has had his say. There can be no further doubt that he intends to use every possible means to force the surrender of the opium that is currently stored on your ships. He knows very well that it would be impossible for him to seize your cargoes by main force – your ships would have no trouble in beating off an assault by his naval forces. So he intends instead to hold us hostage here until the opium is surrendered. And the truth is there is nothing we can do about it. Escape is clearly impossible: we are surrounded on all sides and under constant surveillance; our boats have been beached so we would not be able to get away even if we were to fight our way down to the river. A failed attempt would lead only to injury and humiliation. Nor at this moment can we contemplate the use of force: we have no warships at our disposal and no troops either. To assemble a suitable expeditionary force will take several months. And even if we did possess the necessary strength, an attack on Canton could not be contemplated at this time because it would place all our lives in jeopardy. Clearly no assault is possible until we are evacuated from this city, and to accomplish that in a manner that ensures the safety and security of all of Her Majesty’s subjects is now my principal concern. I need hardly add that it is perfectly clear at this point that we will not be allowed to leave until the Commissioner’s demands are met.’

  Captain Elliott took a deep breath and ran a finger nervously over his moustache. ‘So gentlemen, I am afraid the conclusion is inescapable: you will have to surrender all the opium that is currently stored on your ships.’

  There was a stunned silence and then many voices began to speak, all at once.

  ‘It is robbery, sir, plain robbery. It cannot be tolerated!’

  ‘Are you aware, Captain Elliott, that you are speaking of goods worth many millions of dollars?’

  ‘And what is more, they do not even belong to us. You are asking us to steal from our investors!’

  Captain Elliott let the voices roll around him for a few minutes. When he broke in it was on a conciliatory note. ‘Gentlemen, I do not for a moment dispute the truth of your arguments: that is not at issue here. The question is merely one of securing our release. The Commissioner has set his trap and we are caught in it; there is only one way in which we can escape his clutches and that is by surrendering the opium: there is no other option.’

  This only added to the clamour.

  ‘No option? For subjects of the world’s most powerful nation?’

  ‘Why, sir, you are a disgrace to your uniform!’

  ‘Are we Frogs that we should throw up our arms in surrender at the first hint of trouble?’

  With a grimace of resignation Captain Elliott glanced at Mr Slade who rose at once from his chair. The clamour continued as he went to the fireplace, cane in hand.

  Then Mr Slade unloosed a roar: ‘Gentlemen! Gentlemen, as you well know, no one is more in sympathy with you than I. But this is an instance when we would do well to recall the words fallaces sunt rerum species. We must pay heed to the immortal Seneca; we must look beyond appearances.’

  Bahram understood now that Captain Elliott was far cleverer than he had thought: knowing that he commanded little authority in Fanqui-town, he had evidently taken the trouble to recruit some influential voices to speak in his support.

  ‘A moment’s reflection will reveal to you, gentlemen,’ said Slade, ‘that by seizing our property under threat the Commissioner is doing us a great service. For he is thereby offering Lord Palmerston exactly what needs in order to declare war: a casus belli.’

  At this, the protests began to fade away and quiet descended on the room.

  ‘I have looked into the matter,’ continued Mr Slade, ‘and even a brief inquiry reveals several instances where the seizure of property belonging to British subjects has provided the grounds for a declaration of war. It happened after the massacre of Amboyna, in 1622, when the Dutch seized the property of the English residents of that island and subjected them to unspeakable tortures. Extensive reparations were later exacted. Similarly, the government of Spain has also been forced to indemnify British subjects for the seizure of their property on at least one occasion. But let me emphasize: I cite these examples only as precedents, because the history of commerce does not exhibit any instance of so extensive a robbery as is being contemplated now by Commissioner Lin – and that too on a specious plea of morality.’

  ‘But Mr Slade!’ The interjection was from Charles King who had risen to his feet. ‘You have neglected to mention a crucial difference between these precedents and the case at hand – which is that the property in question here consists of smuggled goods. The prohibitions of Chinese law against opium are of nearly forty years standing and their existence, and steadily increasing severity, is well known to all. Need I remind you, by way of comparison, that British law states that any person found harbouring prohibited goods shall forfeit treble their value? Need I add further that British law also states that any person who is found guilty of the offence of smuggling shall suffer death as a felon?’

  ‘And need I remind you, Mr King,’ said Mr Slade, ‘that we are not in Britain but in China? Nothing remotely comparable to the processes of British law obtains here: no proceedings have been brought; no arrests made.’

  ‘Ah! So that then is your objection?’ retorted Mr King. ‘Because instead of arresting the contrabandists and seizing the prohibited goods by force of arms, the Commissioner has, after repeated warnings, merely demanded their surrender? Because he has treated the owners not as individual felons but as a community in open insubordination against a regular government? But you would do well to note, s
ir, that the system of collective responsibility lies at the very heart of Chinese processes of law.’

  Mr Slade’s face had turned colour and his voice rose again to a roar. ‘You disgrace yourself sir,’ he thundered, ‘by comparing English law with the whims of despots! If you, as an American, wish to submit to Manchu tyranny that is your business. But you cannot expect free men such as ourselves to join you in accepting the vagaries of Celestial misrule.’

  ‘But…’

  Before Mr King could say any more an outcry ripped through the room.

  ‘… you’ve said enough already sir…’

  ‘… don’t even belong here…’

  ‘… prating Yankee hypocrite…!’

  Mr King cast a glance around the room and then, pushing back his chair, he quietly exited the room.

  ‘… good riddance…!’

  ‘… grow a long-tail sir, it’d suit you well…’

  When silence had been restored Mr Dent rose to his feet and went to join Captain Elliot and Mr Slade at the fireplace. Turning to face the room he said: ‘I am completely of a mind with Mr Slade: Commissioner Lin’s demands amount to a straightforward act of robbery. But as Mr Slade has pointed out, there is a silver lining: if the Commissioner persists in this course he will present Her Majesty’s government with an excellent opportunity to avenge the humiliations to which we have been subjected – and that while also placing our commercial relations with China on a sounder footing. What years of attempted negotiations have failed to achieve will be quickly settled by a few gunboats and a small expeditionary force.’

  Mr Slade, not to be outdone, thumped his cane on the floor again: ‘Let me remind you, gentlemen, of what King William the Fourth said when he sent his commissioners to the Canadas: “Remember, the Canadas must not be lost!” Needless to add that the British trade with China is of vastly greater commercial importance to Britain than the Canadas. It reaps an annual revenue of five million pounds and involves the most vital interests of the mercantile, manufacturing, shipping and maritime interests of the United Kingdom. It affects, in an eminent degree, the territorial revenue of our Indian empire. It must not be lost by any wavering imbecility in meeting the present difficulties.’

  Now, seeing the tide turn in his favour, Captain Elliott permitted himself a smile: ‘It will not be lost, gentlemen, I can assure you of that.’

  Mr Dent nodded: ‘If it comes to a passage of arms, as it surely will, no one who has any familiarity with the state of China’s defences can doubt that our forces will prevail. Nor can there be any doubt that once the outcome is decided the British government will ensure that we are repaid for our losses, and at rates that are to our advantage.’ Now, steepling his fingertips, Dent looked around the library. ‘We are all businessmen here, so I need hardly explain to you the implications of this. In effect we will not be giving up our cargoes to Commissioner Lin.’ Here he paused to flash a smile at his listeners: ‘No, we will be extending him a loan – one that will be repaid at a rate of interest that will serve both as a punishment for his arrogance and a reward for our patience.’

  Glancing around the room Bahram saw that many heads were nodding in agreement. He realized suddenly that he was alone in being utterly dismayed by this turn of events. His alarm grew deeper when not a single voice was raised in protest, even when Captain Elliott rose to his feet to say: ‘I take it there are no further objections?’

  To speak in public, in English, was not something Bahram had ever liked to do, but he could not stifle the cry that now burst from his throat. ‘Yes, Captain Elliott! I object.’

  Captain Elliott’s face hardened as he turned to look in his direction. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘You cannot give in, Captain Elliott!’ cried Bahram. ‘Please – you must stand fast. Surely you can see, no? If you give in now, this man will win – this Commissioner. He will win without harming a hair on our heads, without touching a weapon. He will win just by writing these things -’ Bahram pointed at the papers in the translator’s hands – ‘he will win by writing these, what do you call them? Hookums? Chitties? Letters?’

  Captain Elliott’s face creased into a smile. ‘I assure you, Mr Moddie, the Commissioner’s victory will be short-lived. As a naval officer I can tell you that battles are not won by letter-writers.’

  ‘And still he has won, hasn’t he?’ said Bahram. ‘At least this battle is his, is it not?’ He had no other words in which to express his desolation, his sense of betrayal. He could not bear to look at Captain Elliott any more: how could he ever have imagined that this man would somehow conjure up an outcome that was favourable to himself?

  Mr Burnham had swivelled around in his chair, and he broke in with a broad smile.

  ‘But Mr Moddie, don’t you see? The Commissioner’s victory – if such it is – will be purely illusory. We will get back everything we give up, and more. Our investors stand to make handsome profits. It is just a matter of waiting.’

  ‘That is just it,’ said Bahram. ‘How long will we have to wait?’

  Captain Elliott scratched his chin. ‘Perhaps two years. Maybe three.’

  ‘Two or three years!’

  Bahram remembered the angry letters that had been accumulating in his office; he tried to think of how he would explain the circumstances to his investors; he thought of the reactions of his brothers-in-law when the news reached them; he could almost hear them exulting, in their discreet way; he could imagine what they would say to Shireenbai: We warned you; he’s a speculator, you shouldn’t have let him squander your inheritance…

  ‘Surely your investors would wait, Mr Moddie, would they not?’ Burnham insisted. ‘It is just a question of a little time after all.’

  Time!

  Every man in the room was looking in Bahram’s direction now. He was too proud to tell them that time was the one thing he did not have; that a delay of two years would mean certain default; that for him the results of Captain Elliott’s betrayal would be ruin, bankruptcy and debtor’s prison.

  None of this could be said, not here, not now. Somehow Bahram managed to summon a smile. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Of course. My investors will wait.’

  The heads nodded and turned away. Once freed of their scrutiny Bahram tried to sit still, but it was impossible – his limbs would not obey him. Gathering the skirts of his angarkha together, he slipped noiselessly out of the library. With his head down he walked blindly through the Consulate’s corridors and out of the compound. He passed the Co-Hong merchants without sparing them a glance and was halfway across the Maidan when he heard Zadig’s voice behind him: Bahram-bhai! Bahram-bhai!

  He stopped. Yes, Zadig Bey?

  Bahram-bhai, said Zadig breathlessly. Is it true that Captain Elliott has asked everyone to surrender their opium?

  Yes.

  And they have agreed to do it?

  Yes. They have.

  So what will you do, Bahram-bhai?

  What can I do, Zadig Bey? Tears had come to his eyes now, and he brushed them away. I will surrender my cargo, like everyone else.

  Zadig took hold of his arm and they began to walk towards the river.

  It is only money, Bahram-bhai. Soon you will recover your losses.

  The money is the least of it, Zadig Bey.

  What is it then?

  Bahram could not speak; he had to stop and choke back a sob.

  Zadig Bey, he said in a whisper, I gave my soul to Ahriman… and it was all for nothing. Nothing.

  *

  ‘Ah Neel! Ah Neel!’

  Neel was crossing the Maidan when Young Tom called out to him from the linkisters’ tent: ‘Ah Neel, have got message for you, from Compton. He say tomorrow you come Old China Street, at noon. He meet there.’

  ‘At the barricade?’

  ‘Yes. At barricade.’

  ‘All right.’

  The next day, at the appointed time, Neel made his way to Old China Street. The barricade at the far end was a f
ormidable-looking affair, and looked all the more so because the street was deserted and all the shops were shut: it was made of sharpened bamboo staves and the soldiers who were deployed around it were armed with matchlocks and cutlasses.

  Neel’s steps slowed involuntarily as he walked up to the picket: on the far side, on Thirteen Hong Street, a large crowd of curious onlookers had gathered. The spectators were packed closely together and Neel would not have caught sight of Compton if he hadn’t held up a hand to wave: ‘Hei! Neel! Ah Neel! Here!’

  Compton was carrying a wooden chop, with a row of characters painted on it. When this was presented to the officer on duty, the barricade parted and Neel was allowed to go through.

  After he had stepped across, Neel said: ‘What’s this, Compton? How is it that I was allowed to pass?’

  ‘Something important. Gam you will see.’

  They stepped into the print-shop and Compton opened a locked cabinet. Taking out a sheet of paper, he handed it to Neel. ‘Here, Ah Neel; look at this.’

  It was a list of eighteen names, each with a number beside it: the lettering was in Chinese, but there were annotations alongside each entry, in English. Neel saw at a glance that the names were those of Canton’s leading foreign merchants.

  ‘What do the numbers mean, Compton?’