‘It is thoughtful of you to say you will invite me,’ he said. ‘I will be delighted to accept. Now tell me, what was the second question you had for me?’

Leon was now laboriously writing the word ‘silver’ under his drawing. When he looked up from this, he said, ‘Hospital no good, Sir Raff. This I see.’

‘What? What do you mean, “no good”?’

‘For hospital, we need doctors. Without that, hospital no good. You think there are doctors hiding under mangrove, or swinging up in branches with gibbons? We need British Empire doctors. Black coat. Tall hat …’

At the mention of ‘British Empire doctors’ the rajah’s heart cramped with dread. Edmund had many times mentioned his brother Valentine, working as a doctor in the city of Bath, and it was to him that the rajah should have written, but from day to day, he put off this task. His excuse was that he had searched among Edmund’s possessions for the brother’s address and had not yet found it.

‘We don’t need such people,’ he said. ‘The Dyaks know many medicinal remedies. Doctors from England have no more knowledge of the Mal de peste or its causes than we do.’

‘But why should they not help us? You say, rajah, you rule here to bring help to us – Sir Raff Savage helping Poor Ignorant Savage! You don’t think this? Your Englung mind superior and us just nin-poops?’

‘No. I don’t think it. We know certain things; the people of Borneo know other things. We try to join our knowledge up.’

‘Join knowledge up? That’s what I say. Bring British Empire doctors to see our life. Look up at our sky and ask the Brahminy Kites “why is fever in the mist?”’

A BOUT OF SINGING

For a long time the bodies of fish and turtles killed in the explosion floated down the river past Taminah’s pool. Then, one day, there were no more of them. The river flowed steadily on, but it appeared empty of all life except the clinging and curling fronds of water-weed. Taminah stood at its edge, wondering how long it would be before living fish returned.

At her back, were the juddering and breaking sounds of construction: beechwood piles driven into the earth to form the stilts of the longhouses, bamboo poles cut with great blows of the axe, accompanied by human cries, saws being worked with delicacy to create level planks for the flooring.

Knowing that her son had been put in charge of the building work, Taminah had agreed to help him by cutting and stitching palm leaves for thatching. An elderly Chinese worker, known only as Lin, a man whose body was so thin and deformed by the long labours of his life that he was unable to stand up straight, brought her great mountains of palm, carried on his bent back and let them fall on her veranda, sending the cockerels scurrying away on their long tethers. Taminah gave this man water and he thanked her and in his smile it was revealed to her that he had no teeth, and pity for him suddenly extended to wanting to cradle him in her arms and stroke his head. Each time he returned with more and more palm, this feeling of wanting to show Lin tenderness and affection grew stronger.