River of Smoke - Amitav Ghosh [242]
Towards the end of the day a new militia made its appearance in the Maidan: it had been drafted almost entirely from the corps of men who had worked as servants in the foreign factories. Now they were armed with pikes, lances and staves and were smartly dressed in jackets with red cummerbunds. Every man was carrying a rattan shield; on every head was a sturdy conical hat, inscribed with large Chinese characters.
Neel recognized several of the men. He was taken aback by the change in their demeanour: while working as servants they had been scruffily clothed and subservient in manner; now, attired in their new uniforms, they formed as proud a troop as he had ever seen.
For dinner that night Mesto served up a chicken feast: batter-fried marghi na farcha and a savoury alleti-paleti made of gizzards; a creamy marghi na mai vahala with fine shreds of meat; and crisp frilly cutlets.
Why, it’s a burra-khana! said Neel. Is there some reason for it?
Vico nodded: The Seth hasn’t left the hong in days, not since he came back from Mr Dent’s in such a hurry. Mesto has made some of his favourite Parsi dishes in the hope of rousing him from his gloom.
*
Next morning a notice, addressed to Bahram, was delivered to the Achha Hong by Captain Elliott’s personal secretary. It was an urgent summons to a meeting at the Consulate. It could not be ignored so Bahram quickly changed his clothes and made his way to the doorway of the hong.
Although he had not been outside in the last few days, Bahram had observed the activity in the Maidan from his window and had some idea of what to expect – and yet, once at ground level, he realized that the atmosphere of the Maidan had changed even more than he had thought. He had never imagined that a day would come when he would find Fanqui-town empty of swadders and buttoners. Like many other foreigners he had always regarded the enclave’s cheap-jacks as something of a nuisance and had often wished them gone – it had not occurred to him that their absence would leave the enclave so much diminished in spirit.
It was true, of course, that it had not been easy to cross the Maidan when it was a-swarm with mumpers and mucksnipes – but to do it now, under the frowning gaze of guardsmen, was more unpleasant by far. What made it worse still was that Bahram knew by sight many of the guards who were now patrolling the enclave with staves and pikes in hand. One, for instance, was a steward from the Club: it was strangely disconcerting to be stared at, as if you were some kind of escaped jailbird, by a man who had just the other day appeared at your elbow with a plate of roast duck. This was, in a way, the most unsettling part of it: it was as if the hidden mechanisms of Canton’s economy had suddenly been laid bare for all to see; even the lowliest servants and tradesmen – people who had, in the past, fallen over themselves to please the fanquis – now had a look of judgement and appraisal in their eyes.
Nowhere was the cordon of security tighter than around the British Factory: ever since Dent had entered the Consulate, the whole compound had been kept under close watch, to prevent his escape. The Co-Hong merchants too had stationed themselves there, as if to shame their erstwhile partners into giving up their goods. To reach the entrance, Bahram had to step past their chairs; they nodded stiffly at each other, their faces unsmiling and impassive.
On entering the British Factory, Bahram was met by a detachment of sepoys: they were aware of who he was and one of them led him to the Consulate’s library, where the meeting was to be held. This was a large, elegant room with tall shelves of leather-bound books ranged against the walls. At the far end, under a gilded mirror, was a fireplace and above it, a mantelpiece. The room was already full when Bahram arrived: glancing around it, Bahram saw that every member of the Committee was present and many others besides.
Captain Elliott was standing with his back