‘Accha, sahib.’

The ferry was heavy-laden. It would take many minutes for its cargo to shuffle off, and in that time the baboo ought to be able to complete the transaction. Fairbrother tried to see without looking how many were in Ghufoor Khan’s immediate party. He seemed to be talking to two, but in the press behind him there could be any number.

He’d have to be bold. When the Khan importuned the ferryman to let him on, he’d tell him he wanted no more than three, for the sake of his fevered brother.

As soon as the raft was lashed to the pier, baboo-sahib pushed aboard to harangue the ferryman. He asked how much he’d taken for the crossing from the other side. The man was reluctant to say – who knew whether he was indeed a traveller, or a tax inspector? – so the baboo tried the more costly tack: ‘The huzoor will double the sum!’

The ferryman thought for a moment, then came up with a patently inflated figure. There was no time to bargain, however; and besides, reckoned baboo-sahib, the man would be so surprised that he’d be even more eager (no small thing when the crowd were told they’d have to wait another hour and more).

‘Very well, twenty sicca rupees!’

The ferryman, astonished, sprang to his work, laying about with his lathee several men already trying to board.

Fairbrother saw the look of dismay on Ghufoor Khan’s face. He was sure he wouldn’t simply give up. It amused him, indeed, to think with what ingenuity he must now be concocting a ruse by which to inveigle himself and his followers onto the ferry.

The bullocks were a little more intractable than usual, which at first held up the boarding, but in a quarter of an hour it was done. Then, just as Fairbrother and the baboo were about to follow, the Khan made his move.

‘Huzoor, I am a pilgrim bound for the great and holy shrine at Sthambadree. I will pray at the shrine for your companion who has the fever. Let us accompany him now, my three fellow pilgrims and I’ (he indicated each of them) ‘so that we may pray for him as we cross the holy river of Krishna.’

Fairbrother nodded without waiting for the baboo to translate. It was plain enough that just four would come aboard – better odds, indeed, than he’d expected.

Once the bullocks were quietened and the lathees had done their work – more than one traveller had swum to the side to try to get aboard – the ferryman cast off and his men began hauling on the ropes. Fairbrother took himself to the front, deliberately apart. This, too, seemed to suit Ghufoor Khan, who spent the half-hour of the crossing in chanting and earnest hand clasping.

At the other side, all went well, the hubbub among the waiting crowd masking the instructions Fairbrother gave the corporals. He didn’t intend waiting long before his move – a mile or so, out of earshot of the ferry.