River of Smoke(189)
A look of pity came into Chang Lou-si’s eyes when Compton translated this for him. He said something which seemed to be addressed mostly to himself.
‘Chang Lou-si says: it is so China does not become another Hindusthan that the Yum-chae must do what he has to do.’
‘That is right,’ said Neel with a nod. ‘That is why I am sitting here with you.’
*
The meeting at the Chamber had ended so late, amidst so much ill-feeling, that Bahram would have had no sleep that night if not for a generous dose of laudanum. Having once drifted off, he slept deeply and awoke just as the chapel clock was striking eleven.
The windows of the bedroom were shuttered and except for the lamp on the altar it was completely dark. Still fuzzy from the laudanum, Bahram wondered whether he had slept right through the day and into the night. Then he saw glimmers of sunlight filtering in through the gaps in the window frames and suddenly the events of the night before came rushing back to him: the arguments and counter-arguments; the broken faces of Howqua and Mowqua, and Dent’s warning that giving up a single chest would quickly lead to the surrender of them all; and then he remembered the intervention that had clinched the matter: Mr Thom’s prediction that there would be riots if any harm came to Howqua, Mowqua or any other Co-Hong merchant. That was when Wetmore had suggested that the Chamber offer up a thousand chests of opium as ransom for the Hongists’ lives.
Like the other tai-pans Bahram had agreed to contribute his fair share of crates – but there was no surety, of course, that Commissioner Lin would accept the offer: not till ten in the morning would it be known whether he was going to carry out his threats.
And now it was eleven, the hour well past: for all he knew Howqua and Mowqua were already dead.
Reaching for the bell-rope, Bahram tugged hard and within minutes a khidmatgar appeared at the door.
Where’s Vico? said Bahram.
He went out, Sethji.
And the munshi?
He’s in the daftar, Sethji. Waiting for you.
Bahram gestured to the man to step inside. Lay out my clothes, jaldi.
Dressing hurriedly, Bahram crossed the corridor and stepped into the daftar.
Munshiji, did you go to the Consoo House this morning?
Ji, Sethji.
What happened? Did Commissioner Lin announce his verdict?
No, Sethji. I was there till half past ten. Commissioner Lin didn’t come to the Consoo House. There was no verdict. Nothing.
Are you sure?
Ji, Sethji, I am sure.
Giddy with relief, Bahram reached for the door jamb to steady himself. If Commissioner Lin hadn’t come to the Consoo House, it could only mean that he had accepted the Chamber’s offer. A thousand chests was no small thing, after all: even a year earlier that quantity of opium would have fetched three hundred and twenty-five thousand taels – equivalent to about eleven and a half tons of silver bullion, in other words. If Commissioner Lin were only to keep a fraction of it for himself, it would still be enough to provide for generations of his descendants. There was a scarcely a man on earth who would not have been tempted.
A great weight seemed to rise off Bahram’s shoulders. He looked around the daftar and was glad to see that everything was as it should be: breakfast was on the table and Mesto was waiting with a napkin over his arm. A sense of calm came over him as he seated himself at the table: for once, he felt no desire to know more about the news; all he wanted was to eat his breakfast in peace.
Sethji, shall I read from the Register?
No, munshiji, not today. It would be better if you went to find Vico.
Ji, Sethji.
The munshi’s voice receded as Bahram ran his eyes over the table. It was clear at a glance that Mesto had made an extra effort that morning: he had evidently done a round of the Maidan’s food vendors for Bahram could see char-siu-baau buns, light, fluffy and filled with roast pork, and a few chiu-chau dumplings as well, of the kind he liked best, stuffed with peanuts, garlic, chives, dried shrimp and mushrooms. Mesto had also prepared one of Bahram’s Parsi favourites, kolmi bharelo poro, an omelette with a filling of stewed tomatoes and succulent prawns.
Bahram tasted it and gave Mesto a smile. Excellent! Almost as good as my mother’s!
Mesto grinned with pleasure and pushed the dumplings towards him. Try these, Sethji; they’re really fresh.
Bahram ate slowly, lingering over every dish. The better part of an hour passed but neither Vico nor the munshi had returned by the time he finished his meal.
What’s taking them so long? Mesto, send a boy to look for them.
Mesto had been gone only a few minutes when Vico and Neel burst in, flushed and out of breath.
Patrão, a paltan of Manchu soldiers has gone to Mr Dent’s place! The Weiyuen is with them.