Some of them had hoped, and some had feared, that the Yum-chae would be there too – but such was not the case; only these other officials were present.

They were asked their names, their countries and so on, and then the mandarins said: ‘Why doesn’t Mr Dent obey the Yum-chae?’

It was Mr Thom, the translator, who spoke for them: ‘The foreigners are convinced that Mr Dent would be arrested and detained if he went into the old city.’

It was the judge who answered. He said: ‘The High Commissioner’s eyes are very sharp and his ears very long. He knows this Dent to be a very rich capitalist. The High Commissioner holds positive orders from the Emperor to put down the opium trade; he wishes to admonish this Dent and also to inquire into the nature of his business. If this Dent does not consent to come before him, he shall be dragged out of his house by force. If he resists he will be killed.’

To this the delegation made no response so the treasurer said: ‘Why do you continue to shield this Dent? Is the trade with China not dear to you foreigners?’

‘Yes,’ answered Mr Thom. ‘But Dent’s life is still dearer.’

And then, said Zadig, a very strange thing happened, Bahram-bhai. They liked Mr Thom’s answer so much they began to clap! Can you believe …

Before he could finish, Vico burst in. Patrão – look out of the window!

With Zadig beside him, Bahram went to the window and looked down: a crowd had gathered around the entrance to the British Factory. Visible over the heads of the milling spectators were the turbans of a paltan of sepoys; some of them had guns on their shoulders and the man in the lead was carrying the Union Jack.

‘Captain Elliott,’ said Zadig. ‘It must be him!’

‘Oh thank God, thank God,’ said Bahram. Closing his eyes, he murmured a prayer of gratitude; for the first time in many days he felt safe; having the British Representative nearby was like being granted a reprieve.

Seventeen

March 25, 1839

Markwick’s Hotel, Canton

Dearest Puggly, bad news is always hard to convey, but never more so that when one is hard pressed for time. You will understand then why this letter is doubly difficult: for not only have I to tell you about a most unfortunate development, it appears that I must do so with the greatest possible dispatch – for there are signs that something ominous is brewing in Fanqui-town today. I can hear disturbing sounds even as I write – on the roof of this hong, hammers are pounding, feet are running urgently to and fro – these are reminders that I have but little time and must be brief …

You will be glad to know that yesterday, under the most trying circumstances, Baburao succeeded in bringing your precious plants safely to Canton. The traffic on the river was all at sixes and sevens, he said, because Captain Elliott, the British Representative, was speeding down to Canton from Macau, trying to stay ahead of the Chinese authorities. Baburao actually saw Captain Elliott go past, at a bend in the river – he was in a swift cutter, rowed by a team of lascars, with a paltan of sepoys for an escort: when approached by mandarin boats, they forced their way past, more or less at gunpoint.