River of Smoke - Amitav Ghosh [113]
‘Did you say “vulgarian”, Mr Slade?’
‘No. I said Bulgarian.’
‘But I thought Mr King was from America. You are sure he’s Bulgarian?’
‘It is not impossible, you know,’ said Slade darkly. ‘To be both.’
‘Baap-re-baap! American and Bulgarian also? That is too much, no?’
Here Dent came to the rescue and and whispered in Bahram’s ear: ‘You must make some allowances for our good Mr Slade: he is a stickler for proper usage and has a great detestation of corrupted words. He particularly dislikes the word “bugger”, which is so much in use among the vulgar masses. He believes it to be a corruption of the word “Bulgar” or “Bulgarian” and insists on using those instead.’
This further deepened Bahram’s puzzlement for he had always assumed that ‘bugger’ was the anglice of the Hindusthani word bukra or ‘goat’.
‘So Mr King is having goats, is he?’ he said to Mr Slade.
‘It would not surprise me at all,’ said Mr Slade mournfully. ‘It is common knowledge that a congenital Bulgar will Bulgarize anything that takes his fancy. Amantes sunt amentes.’
Bahram had never heard of anyone keeping goats in Fanqui-town, but it stood to reason that if someone did it would be a representative of Olyphant & Co. – for that firm had always been the odd one out in Fanqui-town, choosing to do business in eccentric, money-losing ways. What was more, the firm’s managers had even had the effrontery to criticize others for refusing to follow their lead: not surprisingly, this did little to endear them to their peers.
Bahram was one of the few tai-pans who was actually on good terms with Charles King – but this was because he usually discussed things other than business. He knew very well that the Olyphant agent inspired deep hostility within the upper echelons of Fanqui-town, and was astonished to see him amongst the members of the Committee.
Bahram turned to Dent with a puzzled frown: ‘Is Charles King also on the Committee?’
‘Yes indeed he is,’ said Dent. ‘He was invited to join because he is a great favourite of the mandarins. It was felt that he would be able to represent our views to them. But it must be admitted that it has not turned out well: instead of advocating our issues to them, he unfailingly does exactly the opposite. He is forever trying to bully and hector us into obeying his Celestial patrons.’
At this point the Club’s stewards entered with the first course. The stewards were all local men, with braided queues, round caps and sandalled feet. Their tunics were in the Club’s colour, blue, and were worn over grey, ankle-length pyjamas.
Unlike the stewards, many of the Chamber’s cooks were from Macau: when freed from the obligation of producing the kind of fare that was most in demand in the Club’s dining room – roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, haggis, steak-and-kidney pies and the like – they were capable of serving superb Macahnese food. Now, looking at the plate that had been set before him, Bahram was delighted to see that it contained one of his favourite dishes: a bright green watercress soup called Caldo de Agrião. With it was served a variety of condiments and sauces, as well as a fine Alvarinho wine from Munçao.
Bahram was absorbed in savouring the wine and the soup when Mr Slade’s voice boomed across the table. ‘Well Mr Jardine, since no one else will dare ask, it falls to me to bell the cat. Is it true, sir, that you intend soon to return to England?’
The soup was suddenly forgotten and every head turned to look towards Mr Jardine who was sitting at the other end of the table, between the host and Mr Wetmore. A quizzical smile appeared on his unlined face and he said quietly: ‘Well Mr Slade, I was planning to make my intentions public at the end of the evening, but since you have presented me with this opportunity, I will seize it. The answer is, in short: Yes, I am indeed planning to return to England. The date has not yet been decided but it will probably be in a month or two.’
A silence fell, leaving many spoons suspended in the