attitude of the seamen who looked after them – for as men go, mariners were probably the worst gardeners in existence. They seemed to regard the plants as threats to themselves, and would deny them water at the least sign of any scarcity; when their vessels were menaced by storms or shoals, the pots were treated no better than the most dispensable kinds of ballast.
All other expedients having proved unsatisfactory, Sir Joseph had decided, a couple of years ago, to send a properly trained gardener to Canton. The man chosen for the job was a foreman at Kew, a young Scotsman by the name of William Kerr. The fellow had done his job well enough for a while, but he seemed of late to have become somewhat restless: he had written to say that he was planning to go off to the Philippines next summer and he had requested Sir Joseph to send out a man who could be trusted to safely take home the collection that he had already put together, in Canton.
‘So what do you say, my good fellow?’ said Sir Joseph. ‘Are you of a mind to travel on such a mission? If so I will undertake to secure a place for you on a Company ship that is to depart for Canton next week.’
Fitcher had accepted the assignment, and even though his departure and arrival in Canton were much delayed, the ultimate results of the voyage were good enough to earn him the patronage of the powerful Curator: a few years later he was sent out to China again, not just as a custodian this time, but as a replacement for William Kerr. It was this second voyage that was to establish Fitcher’s reputation amongst botanists and horticulturists – for after spending two years in Macau and Canton, he had succeeded in bringing back many new plants. He had been careful to select varieties that were likely to prove hardy in Britain, and several of his introductions had quickly become established in English gardens: two varieties of wisteria, a seductive new lily, a fine azalea bush, an unusual primrose, a lustrous camellia and much else.
‘Canton’s placed many a foot on the ladder of fortune,’ said Fitcher, ‘and I was fortunate that mine was among them.’
‘And what is Canton like, sir?’ said Paulette. ‘Are there gardens everywhere?’
Fitcher gave one of his rare laughs. ‘Oh it’s nothing like that – it’s the busiest, most crowded city I ever saw. The biggest too, bigger even than London. It’s a sea of houses and boats and the plants are in places ee’d never expect. On the roof of a sampan, pouring over the top of a kewny old wall, hanging down from some sheltered balcony. There are carts that roam the streets, loaded with flower pots; there are sampans plying the river, selling nothing but plants. On feast and festival days the whole city bursts into bloom and flower-sellers hawk their wares at prices fit to make an English nurseryman turn chibbol-coloured with envy. Why, I m’self once saw a boatload of orchids sell out in an hour and that too, with each blowth valued at a hundred silver dollars.’
‘Oh how I long to see it, sir!’
Fitcher frowned. ‘But that ee won’t ee know.’
‘Oh?’ said Paulette. ‘But why not?’
‘Because European women aren’t allowed to set foot in Canton. That’s the law.’
‘But sir,’ cried Paulette in dismay, ‘how can that be so? What of all the merchants who live there? Do they not have their wives with them? Their children?’
Fitcher shook his head. ‘No. Foreign women can go no further than Macau – that is where they must remain.’
The discovery that she would not be able to travel to Canton came as a bitter disappointment to Paulette: it was as if a flaming sword had descended from heaven to shut her out of Eden, forever depriving her of the chance to inscribe her name in the annals of botanical exploration.
Paulette could feel tears starting into her eyes. ‘But sir! Will I not be able to go with you to Canton then? Where shall I stay?’
‘Many a respectable English family in Macau takes in lodgers. It’ll just be for a week or two at a time.’
Paulette had imagined that she would be collecting plants in the wild. Now cheated of her opportunity she burst into tears. ‘But sir, I will miss the best of it.’
‘Come now, Miss Paulette,’ said Fitcher. ‘Ee needn’t take it so hard. There’s a passel of islands along the coast where ee’ll be able to do some collecting. There’s no cause to be upset. Look, I’ll show ee…’
Fetching a chart of the south China coast, Fitcher pointed to the yawning mouth of the Pearl River and the hundreds of tiny islands that lay scattered across it. On the western hinge of the jaws lay the Portuguese settlement of Macau: this was where foreign ships had to go to obtain the ‘chop’ that would permit them to travel up the Pearl River to Canton. At the eastern end of the river mouth, lay a sizeable island called Hong Kong: it was a wind-swept, sparsely populated place and the people who lived there did not seem to mind if foreigners went ashore, men or women. Fitcher had been there once: it was the only time he had been able to collect in the field in China. He had found some fine orchids and had always wanted to go back, to give the island a thorough going- over.
‘That’s as good a place as ee could wish for Miss Paulette,’ said Fitcher. ‘Ee’ll be able to botanize in the wild there, just as ee’d hoped.’
*
Zadig greeted Bahram, as always, with a wide-armed embrace and kisses on both cheeks. It was only when they stepped back to look at each other that Bahram realized that a great change – a transformation – had come over his old friend.
Arre Zadig Bey! he said. You’ve become a white man! A sahib!
Zadig was dressed in duck trousers, a high-collared shirt, and a jacket and cravat – he glanced at his clothes in some embarrassment and made a gesture of dismissal. Don’t laugh too loud, my friend, he said. One day you may have to wear these things too. In a town like this it sometimes comes in useful.
They were in the salon of the Owners’ Suite, where two large Chinese armchairs had been arranged beside an open window. Ushering Zadig to one of the chairs, Bahram said: I hope you haven’t become too European for some paan?
No, said Zadig smiling. Not yet.
Good! Bahram gestured to a khidmatgar, who went off to fetch his paan casket.
Zadig, in the meanwhile, had been looking around the salon which he had visited many times before. I’m glad to see nothing’s been damaged here, he said. It was terrible to see what happened to the front of the ship.
Yes, said Bahram. We were lucky it wasn’t worse. I’ve never been in a storm like that one. Two of our lascars were swept away – and my old Parsi munshi was killed, just sitting in his cabin. Some of the holds got flooded too.
Was the cargo damaged?
Yes. We lost three hundred crates.
Of opium?
Yes.
Three hundred crates! Zadig raised his eyebrows. At last year’s prices that would have fetched you enough to buy two more ships!
A khidmatgar appeared with a silver casket and set it on a teapoy. Opening the lid, Bahram took out a fresh green betel leaf and smeared it carefully with chalky lime.
It was the worst storm I’ve ever been through, said Bahram. When I heard about the flooding in the hold I went to see what could be done. There was so much water in there I got knocked over and a very strange thing happened.
Yes? Go on, Bahram-bhai, I am listening.
Bahram reached for an areca nut and sliced it with a silver cutter. For a moment, he said. I thought I was drowning. And you know na, what they say, about the things a drowning man sees?
Yes.
I thought I saw Chi-mei. That’s one reason why I am so glad to see you, Zadig Bey. I want to know what you learnt about Chi-mei and Freddy when you were last in Canton.
Folding the betel leaf into a triangle, Bahram handed it to Zadig, who tucked it into his cheek.
I’m sad to say, Bahram-bhai, there’s not much I can tell you. I went to the floating city to look for Chi-mei’s kitchen-boat, but it wasn’t there. So I sought out your old comprador, Chunqua, and he told me what happened.
Bahram picked up the nut-cutter again. Yes? Tell me.
Zadig hesitated. It’s an ugly thing, Bahram-bhai, that’s why I didn’t want to write to you about it. I thought I
