such good humour that I may have lingered on this task a little longer than I should have done. For scarcely had I repaired to my easel than we were interrupted by a great uproar in the Maidan. We both ran out to the terrace and were confronted with a most disquieting sight. A crowd had gathered in the Maidan and people were rushing about in disarray. At the centre of the tamasha was a paltan of Manchu sepoys with flags, pennants and plumes protruding from their helmets and uniforms. The paltan was marching through the Maidan in a square formation; in the midst of it some dozen or so prisoners could be seen, bound together by chains. Such was the press of people around the captives that not much was visible of them apart from their heads – and of these only a couple were tonsured and pigtailed in the Chinese manner: the rest were turbaned or bandannaed in an unmistakably Hindusthani fashion!
Achhas in chains? The local constabulary so rarely imposes itself upon foreigners that Jacqua was as amazed as I: he too had never seen anything like it before. Who could these unfortunate Achhas be? What was their crime?
Seized by curiosity, Jacqua and I ran down to the Maidan and thrust ourselves into the crowd.
It took Jacqua only a few minutes to learn what was afoot: the troops had raided Mr Innes’s house, in the Creek Factory, and had caught him in flagrante, unloading opium from a ship’s cutter. They had then arrested the men in the boat, amongst whom were two locals, who had served as guides. The rest of the crew were lascars and they too were now to be incarcerated in a chowki inside the walled city!
The two guides were bruised in body and their clothes were torn to bits. The lascars were unmolested but they too made a pitiable sight, in their bare feet and their thin cotton pyjamas and kurtis, with nothing to protect them from the cold but the bandhnas around their heads and the cumblies over their shoulders. They must have been gubbrowed out of their wits but they did not show it: they seemed stoic and resigned, in the usual Achha way. Even though I knew them to be smugglers and richly deserving of their fate I confess I could not help feeling some pity as I watched them shuffling along, with their eyes lowered: what would I have done, I wondered, were I in their place, surrounded by an angry crowd, in a strange city, being led off to a Celestial prison?
With Jacqua’s help I pushed my way to the front of the crowd, which had in the meanwhile been pressing closer and closer to the guardsmen and their captives. The paltan was now entering Old China Street and in passing through this defile I was pushed abreast of one of the lascars. He was lean of build, but sturdy-looking and although he was hanging his head like the others, I had the impression he was quite young. I was close enough to see that the grimy bandhna around his head was a worn and faded gamchha, and this led me to wonder whether he might not be from Bengal, as lascars often are.
The clamour of the crowd seemed to grow louder as we passed through the shaded confines of the street. This distracted the guards and I was able to push still closer to the young lascar: I could see only the side of his face, but something about the cut of his jaw led me to think I had seen him somewhere before. The crowd was so thick I could not get a good look at him – but I swear to you, from where I stood he looked very much like that ‘brother’ of yours: your beloved Jodu.
But you must not worry, Puggly dear. In the first place I cannot be sure of who the boy was; and Jacqua assures me anyway that ‘cuttee head’ is not to be the fate of those lascars (I confess I had begged him to inquire, for this thought had not eluded me…) – but no, you may be assured it will not come to that; they have merely been incarcerated in the citadel.
Since that day, a semblance of normalcy has returned to Fanqui-town yet nothing has been quite the same. The Creek Factory, where Mr Innes lives, is under siege, with soldiers and guards posted all around it. You might ask why do they not enter the factory and seize Mr Innes? According to Zadig Bey, they will not do this because it has always been the custom here for the Co-Hong merchants to stand surety for their foreign counterparts. The authorities insist that it is the Hongists’ duty to drive Innes out of Canton: if he chooses not to leave it is they who will be made to suffer – and the penalties that have been inflicted on them are indeed frightful.
I was to see proof of this with my own eyes when I made my next attempt to visit the Pearl River Nursery.
But I mustn’t get ahead of myself: the antecedents of this little trip will be of interest to you as they pertain directly to your paintings.
The packet you dispatched last week was delivered to me four days ago – how lucky we are that a full set of illustrations had been readied by Miss Ellen Penrose (and I must say the illustrations are, if I may so, quite surprisingly competent). The packet could not have arrived at a better time – or so I thought – for it had been arranged, as you will remember, that Ah-med would fetch me from the hotel the very next day, exactly one week having passed since my last visit to the Pearl River Nursery. My desire to see Mr Chan being still undiminished it was with the greatest eagerness that I prepared myself for Ah-med’s arrival. Having packed your pictures in a bag, I told Mr Markwick that I was expecting a visitor and was to be informed as soon as he appeared. Then I ensconced myself in my room and remained there for the next several hours.
The time was not spent unprofitably for I was able to make a start on Jacqua’s torso – and yet you cannot imagine how disappointed I was, Puggly dear, when Ah-med failed to appear! I was quite stricken -but annoyed as well, and when the chapel clock struck six I decided I would wait no longer. I sought out Jacqua and told him I was determined to go to Fa-Tee on my own, the very next morning, in a hired boat. To my great delight he offered (as I had rather hoped he might) to accompany me and even said he would arrange for a boat.
So the next morning we set off, and you cannot conceive, my dear Puggly, how expectant I was. All the circumstances seemed exceedingly propitious: it was a fine day and the boat was not a horrid little coracle, managed by harpies, but a sampan rowed by a kindly old boatman. I own it was a little narrow, which meant that Jacqua and I had to sit side by side, and were often compelled to hold on to each other because of the lurchings of the vessel. But this only added to the interest of the journey so we decided to prolong it a bit by going a little way downriver. It was not till we were well past the usual landmarks – the Shamian sandbank, the Dutch Fort, the execution grounds – that it came to our attention that a huge crowd had gathered along the shore, in order to goggle at some kind of tamasha that was being staged upon a barge.
On approaching a little closer it became evident that the spectacle consisted of a man who had been put on public display, with a huge wooden pillory around his neck. Jacqua spoke to some passing boatmen and learnt that this man stood accused of being a confederate of the wretched Mr Innes: this was his punishment for conniving to smuggle opium into the city. The boatman said he might even be beheaded if Mr Innes did not leave the city!
We assumed of course that the man was a Thug or a Dacoit, much like Innes himself – so you will understand, Puggly dear, the extent of my horror when we came close enough to get a good look at the accused man. For the man was none other than Punhyqua, the eminent Hongist and connoisseur of flowers and gardens!
It was so distressing to see him thus, with a huge board around his neck and thousands of people leering at him that I yearned to be whisked away to Fa-Tee – but this too proved impossible. Scarcely had we turned around, to head towards Fa-Tee, when we came to a barrier where we were told that new rules had been put in effect and we could proceed no further without a special chop. So we turned back, and on returning to Markwick’s I discovered that the journey would have been wasted anyway – for in the meanwhile Ah-med had come to the hotel to inform me that Mr Chan had left town on urgent business!
Since that time I have seen no further trace of Ah-med and nor have I received any word from Mr Chan – but this is not surprising perhaps for the atmosphere in Fanqui-town has become quite alarmingly charged. Mr Innes still refuses to leave and every day there are rumours of new sanctions and threats against him. One afternoon, placards were posted all around the Creek Factory, in Chinese and in English. I brought one away, as a keepsake, and I cannot resist the temptation to copy the words, for I know they will interest you:
‘On the third of this month the foreign merchant Innes, with a daring disregard of the laws, clandestinely brought opium up to Canton in a boat which was seized by the government. He openly defies the imperial mandates and displays the most supreme contempt for his own reputation. His conduct merits universal outrage. We decline therefore to do any more business with him and shall not suffer him to dwell in our buildings: we accordingly placard our resolve in the most explicit manner, that every reasonable man may be informed of it and take timely warning.’
Is it not quite the most ominous pronouncement? But such a man is Mr Innes that even this has made no impression on him.
The strangest part of the whole affair, says Zadig Bey, is that Mr Innes cannot have been acting alone – he must have had accomplices and it is quite possible that he would be able to lighten his burden of guilt if he were to
