Suddenly, Ho Yen cried out, ‘I’m going back. I won’t stay here.’

‘Don’t try to do that. They will beat you. Don’t go.’

Ho Yen wouldn’t listen to them. A few others followed him. They climbed up the stairs and started thumping on the iron lid, shouting, ‘Open the lid. Let us out! We are suffocating without air. We will die. Let us out!’

‘Call them back, there is no point in shouting. We too wanted to get out, but they wouldn’t let us. Instead, they thrashed us. They will do the same to you.’

For a moment Ho Han was perplexed. Then, climbing up the stairs he tried to reason with Ho Yen. But Ho Yen was in no mood to listen.

Suddenly the hatch opened. Three men stood near the hatchway. In the weak light of a candle, they could see the gleaming steel-capped whips in their hands. They started whipping the captives. The dark abyss of the ship was now heavy with the sounds of swishing whips, the blows of the sticks, and helpless shrieks of pain. The atmosphere was made even more loathsome by the fearsome voices of the guards.

‘Shut up, you! Not a word more, or else we will shoot you and dump you in the sea. Get down immediately!’

Closing the hatch over the injured men, they left. Ho Yen and the others touched their wounds gingerly and cried. Ho Han sat down, placing his head on his knees, his eyes brimming with tears.

It was pitch dark outside by then, as it was inside the ship. The hearts of the dreamers filled with absolute despair.

Six

1841

Six sturdy horses galloped furiously along a narrow road through a jungle in Matak country on the border of Upper Assam. It was a winter morning. The sun was yet to rise. Little was visible through the dense layers of fog.

The village folk living in the houses that stood on either side of the road were not fully awake, but a good many of them still came to look with sleepy eyes at the horsemen. Dew fell from the branches of the trees as the horses cut through the thick white fog; the clip-clop of their hooves resonated through the jungle. The curious villagers, blissfully unaware of what went on in the outside world, gazed at them in awe.

The riders were a familiar sight, but the villagers never ceased to be surprised at their complexion, their hair, eyes and clothes. Each time the riders went past, the rustle of curious conversation amongst the village folk lingered on long after their departure.

They had by now got an inkling of what these riders were up to. Rumours were rife that the forests around the villages were being cleared for the cultivation of tea. A few of the villagers had also been hired to do this work. The elephant mahouts and the grass-cutters brought home the news. No one knew what tea was. They just couldn’t figure out how leaves used as a remedy for coughs could produce a beverage!