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Overview
A Christian Science Monitor Best Fiction Book of the Year
A Guardian Best Book of the Year
A San Francisco Chronicle Best Book of the Year
The stunningly vibrant final novel in the bestselling Ibis Trilogy from Amitav Ghosh, Flood of Fire.
It is 1839 and China has embargoed the trade of opium, yet too much is at stake in the lucrative business and the British Foreign Secretary has ordered the colonial government in India to assemble an expeditionary force for an attack to reinstate the trade. Among those consigned is Kesri Singh, a soldier in the army of the East India Company. He makes his way eastward on the Hind, a transport ship that will carry him from Bengal to Hong Kong.
Along the way, many characters from the Ibis Trilogy come aboard, including Zachary Reid, a young American speculator in opium futures, and Shireen, the widow of an opium merchant whose mysterious death in China has compelled her to seek out his lost son. The Hind docks in Hong Kong just as war breaks out and opium is “pouring into the market like monsoon flood.” From Bombay to Calcutta, from naval engagements to the decks of a hospital ship, among embezzlement, profiteering, and espionage, Amitav Ghosh’s Flood of Fire charts a breathless course through the culminating moment of the British opium trade and vexed colonial history.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781429944281 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Farrar, Straus and Giroux |
| Publication date: | 08/04/2015 |
| Series: | Ibis Trilogy Series , #3 |
| Sold by: | Macmillan |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 624 |
| Sales rank: | 436,433 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
About the Author
Amitav Ghosh is the author of the bestselling Ibis trilogy, comprised of Sea of Poppies (short-listed for the 2008 Man Booker Prize), River of Smoke, and Flood of Fire. His other novels include The Circle of Reason, which won the Prix Médicis étranger, and The Glass Palace. He is the author of many works of nonfiction, including The Great Derangement: Climate Change and the Unthinkable and The Nutmeg's Curse: Parables for a Planet in Crisis. He holds two lifetime achievement awards and four honorary doctorates. In 2018, Ghosh became the first English-language writer to receive the Jnanpith Award, India's highest literary honor. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.
Read an Excerpt
Flood of Fire
By Amitav Ghosh
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Copyright © 2015 Amitav GhoshAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-4428-1
CHAPTER 1
Havildar Kesri Singh was the kind of soldier who liked to take the lead, particularly on days like this one, when his battalion was marching through a territory that had already been subdued and the advance-guard's job was only to fly the paltan's colours and put on their best parade-faces for the benefit of the crowds that had gathered by the roadside.
The villagers who lined the way were simple people and Kesri didn't need to look into their eyes to know that they were staring at him in wide-eyed wonder. East India Company sepoys were an unusual sight in this remote part of Assam: to have a full paltan of the Bengal Native Infantry's 25th Regiment – the famous 'Pacheesi' – marching through the rice-fields was probably as great a tamasha as most of them would witness in a year, or even a decade.
Kesri had only to look ahead to see dozens of people flocking to the roadside: farmers, old women, cowherds, children. They were racing up to watch, as if fearful of missing the show: little did they know that the spectacle would continue for hours yet.
Right behind Kesri's horse, following on foot, was the so-called Russud Guard – the 'foraging party'. Behind them were the camp-followers – inaccurately named, since they actually marched ahead of the troops and far exceeded them in number, there being more than two thousand of them to a mere six hundred sepoys. Their caravan was like a moving city, a long train of ox-drawn bylees carrying people of all sorts – pandits and milk-women, shopkeepers and banjara grain-sellers, even a troupe of bazar-girls. Animals too there were aplenty – noisy flocks of sheep, goats and bullocks, and a couple of elephants as well, carrying the officers' baggage and the furniture for their mess, the tables and chairs tied on with their legs in the air, wriggling and shaking like upended beetles. There was even a travelling temple, trundling along atop a cart.
Only after all of this had passed would a rhythmic drumbeat make itself heard and a cloud of dust appear. The ground would reverberate, in time with the beat, as the first rank of sepoys came into view, ten abreast, at the head of a long, winding river of dark topees and flashing bayonets. The sight would send the villagers scurrying for cover; they would watch from the shelter of trees and bushes while the sepoys marched by, piped along by fifers and drummers.
Few were the tamashas that could compare with the spectacle of the Bengal Native Infantry on the march. Every member of the paltan was aware of this – dandia-wallahs, naach-girls, bangy-burdars, syces, mess-consummers, berry-wallahs, bhisties – but none more so than Havildar Kesri Singh, whose face served as the battalion's figurehead when he rode at the head of the column.
It was Kesri's belief that to put on a good show was a part of soldiering and it caused him no shame to admit that it was principally because of his looks that he was so often chosen to lead the march. He could hardly be held to blame if his years of campaigning had earned him a patchwork of scars to improve his appearance – it was not as if he had asked to be grazed by a sword in such a way as to add a pout to his lower lip; nor had he invited the cut that was etched upon the leather-dark skin of his cheek, like a finely drawn tattoo.
But it wasn't as if Kesri's was the most imposing face in the paltan. He could certainly look forbidding enough when he wanted to, with his scimitar-like moustaches and heavy brow, but there were others who far surpassed him in this regard. It was in his manner of wearing the regimental uniform that he yielded to none: the heft of his thighs was such that the black fabric of his trowsers hugged them like a second skin, outlining his musculature; his chest was wide enough that the 'wings' on his shoulders looked like weapons rather than ornaments; and there wasn't a man in the paltan on whom the scarlet coattee, with its bright yellow facings, showed to better advantage. As for the dark topee, tall as a beehive, he was not alone in thinking that it sat better on his head than on any other.
Kesri knew that it was a matter of some resentment among the battalion's other NCOs that he was picked to lead the column more often than any of his fellow sepoy-afsars. But their complaints caused him no undue concern: he was not a man to put much store by the opinions of his peers; they were dull stolid men for the most part, and it seemed only natural to him that they should be jealous of someone such as himself.
There was only one sepoy in the paltan whom Kesri held in high regard and he was Subedar Nirbhay Singh, the highest ranking Indian in the battalion. No matter that a subedar was outranked, on paper, by even the juniormost English subaltern – by virtue of the force of his personality, as well as his family connections, Subedar Nirbhay Singh's hold on the paltan was such that even Major Wilson, the battalion commander, hesitated to cross him.
In the eyes of the men Subedar Nirbhay Singh was not just their seniormost NCO but also their patriarch, for he was a scion of the Rajput family that had formed the paltan's core for three generations. His grandfather was the duffadar who had helped to raise the regiment when it was first formed, sixty years before: he had served as its first subedar and many of his descendants had held the post after him. The present subedar had himself inherited his rank from his older brother, who had retired a couple of years before – Subedar Bhyro Singh.
Theirs was a landowning family from the outskirts of the town of Ghazipur, near Benares. Since most of the battalion's sepoys hailed from the same area and were of the same caste, many were inevitably connected to the subedar's clan – indeed a number of them were the sons of men who had served under his father and grandfather.
Kesri was one of the few members of the paltan who lacked this advantage. The village of his birth, Nayanpur, was on the furthest periphery of the battalion's catchment area and his only connection to the subedar's family was through his youngest sister, Deeti, who was married to a nephew of his. Kesri had been instrumental in arranging this marriage, and the connection had played no small part in his rise to the rank of havildar.
Now, at the age of thirty-five, after nineteen years in the paltan, Kesri had a good ten or fifteen years of active service left and he fully expected to rise soon to the rank of jamadar, with Subedar Nirbhay Singh's support. And after that, he could see no reason why he should not, in time, become the battalion's subedar himself: he did not know of a single sepoy-afsar who was his equal, in intelligence, vigour and breadth of experience. It was only his rightful due.
* * *
In the course of the last several months Zachary Reid had met with so many reverses that he did not allow himself to believe that his ordeal was almost over until he saw the Calcutta Gazette's report on the inquiry that had cleared his name.
5th June, 1839
... and this review of the week's notable events would not be complete without a mention of a recent Judicial Inquiry in which one Mr Zachary Reid, a twenty-one-year-old sailor from Baltimore, Maryland, was acquitted of all wrongdoing in the matter of the untoward incidents on the schooner Ibis, in the month of September last year.
Regular readers of the Calcutta Gazette need scarcely be reminded that the Ibis was bound for Mauritius, with two Convicts and a contingent of Coolies on board, when Disturbances broke out leading to the murder of the chief Sirdar of the immigrants, one Bhyro Singh, a former subedar of the Bengal Native Infantry who had numerous Commendations for bravery to his credit.
Subsequent to the murder, the Ibis was hit by a powerful Storm, at the end of which it was found that a gang of five men had also murdered the vessel's first mate, Mr John Crowle, and had thereafter effected an escape in a longboat. The ringleader was the Serang of the crew, a Mug from the Arakan, and his gang included the vessel's two convicts, one of whom was the former Raja of Raskhali, Neel Rattan Halder (the sensation that was caused in the city's Native Quarters last year, by the Raja's trial and conviction on charges of forgery, is no doubt still fresh in the memory of most of Calcutta's European residents).
In the aftermath of the storm the stricken Ibis was fortunate to be intercepted by the brigantine Amboyna which escorted her to Port Louis without any further loss of life. On the schooner's arrival the guards who had accompanied the Coolies proceeded to lodge a complaint against Mr Reid, accusing him of conspiring in the flight of the five badmashes, one of whom, a coolie from the district of Ghazipore, was the subedar's murderer. These charges being of the utmost gravity, it was decided that the matter would be referred to the authorities in Calcutta, with Mr Reid being sent back to India in Judicial Custody.
Unfortunately for Mr Reid, he has had to endure a wait of several months after reaching Bengal, largely because of the ill-health of the principal witness, Mr Chillingworth, the captain of the Ibis. Mr Chillingworth's inability to travel was, we are told, the principal reason for the repeated postponements of the Inquiry ...
After one of those postponements, Zachary had thought seriously about calling it quits and making a getaway. To leave Calcutta would not have been difficult: he was not under physical confinement and he could easily have found a berth, as a crewman, on one of the ships in the port. Many of these vessels were short-handed and he knew he would be taken on without too many questions being asked.
But Zachary had signed a bond, pledging to appear before the Committee of Inquiry, and to renege on that promise would have been to incriminate himself. Another, equally weighty consideration, was his hard-won mate's licence, which he had surrendered to the Harbourmaster's office in Calcutta. To abandon the licence would have meant forfeiting all that he had gained since leaving Baltimore, on the Ibis– gains that included a rise in rank from ship's carpenter to second mate. And were he indeed to return to America to obtain new papers, it was perfectly possible that his old records would be dug up which would mean that he might once again have the word 'Black' stamped against his name, thereby forever barring his path to a berth as a ship's officer.
Zachary's was a nature in which ambition and resolve were leavened by a good measure of prudence: instead of recklessly yielding to his impatience, he had carried on as best he could, eking out a living by doing odd jobs in the Kidderpore shipyards; sleeping in a succession of flea-ridden flop-houses while he waited for the Inquiry to begin. A tireless self-improver, he had devoted his spare time to reading books on navigation and seamanship.
The Inquiry into the Ibis incident commenced with a well-attended Public Hearing in the Town Hall. Presiding over it was the esteemed jurist, Mr Justice Kendalbushe of the Supreme Court. The first witness to be called was none other than Mr Chillingworth. He provided extensive testimony in Mr Reid's favour, holding him blameless for the troubles of the voyage which he ascribed entirely to the late Mr Crowle, the first mate. This individual, he said, was of a notoriously fractious and unruly disposition and had badly mishandled the vessel's affairs, creating disaffection among the Coolies and the Crew.
Next to appear was Mr Doughty, formerly of the Bengal River Pilots Service. Mr Doughty bore eloquent witness to the sterling qualities of Mr Reid's character, declaring him to be exactly the kind of White youth most urgently needed in the East: honest and hard-working, cheerful in demeanour and modest in spirit.
Kind, crusty old Doughty! Through Zachary's long months of waiting in Calcutta, Mr Doughty was the only person he had been able to count on. Once every week, and sometimes twice, he had accompanied Zachary to the Harbourmaster's office, to make sure that the matter of the Inquiry was not filed away and forgotten.
The Committee was then presented with two affidavits, the first of which was from Mr Benjamin Burnham, the owner of the Ibis. Mr Burnham is of course well known to the readers of the Gazette as one of the foremost merchants of this city and a passionate advocate of Free Trade.
Before reading out the affidavit, Mr Justice Kendalbushe observed that Mr Burnham was currently away in China else he would certainly have been present at the Inquiry. It appears that he has been detained by the Crisis that was precipitated earlier this year by the intemperate actions of the newly appointed Governor of Canton, Commissioner Lin. Since the Crisis has yet to be resolved it seems likely that Mr Burnham will remain a while yet on the shores of the Celestial Empire so that Captain Charles Elliot, Her Majesty's Representative and Plenipotentiary, may avail of his sage counsel.
Mr Burnham's affidavit was found to be an eloquent attestation to Mr Reid's good character, describing him as an honest worker, clean and virile in body, wholesome in appearance and Christian in morals. After the affidavit had been read out to the Committee Mr Justice Kendalbushe was heard to remark that Mr Burnham's testimony must necessarily carry great weight with the Committee, since he has long been a leader of the community and a pillar of the Church, renowned as much for his philanthropy as for his passionate advocacy of Free Trade. Nor did he neglect to mention Mr Burnham's wife, Mrs Catherine Burnham, who is renowned in her own right as one of this city's leading hostesses as well as a prominent supporter of a number of Improving Causes.
The second affidavit was from Mr Burnham's gomusta, Baboo Nob Kissin Pander who was also on board the Ibis at the time of the Incident, in the capacity of Supercargo. He too is currently in China, with Mr Burnham.
The Baboo's testimony was found to corroborate Mr Chillingworth's account of the Incident in every respect. Its phrasing however was most singular being filled with outlandish expressions of the sort that are so beloved of the Baboos of this city. In one of his flights of fancy Mr Burnham's gomusta proved himself to be a veritable chukker-batty, describing Mr Reid as the 'effulgent emissary' of a Gentoo deity ...
Zachary remembered how his face had burned as Mr Kendalbushe was reading out that sentence. It was almost as if the ever enigmatic Baboo Nob Kissin were standing there himself, in his saffron robe, clutching his matronly bosom and wagging his enormous head.
In the time that Zachary had known him, the Baboo had undergone a startling change, becoming steadily more womanly, especially in relation to Zachary whom he seemed to regard much as a doting mother might look upon a favourite son. Bewildering though this was to Zachary he had reason to be grateful for it too, for the Baboo, despite his oddities, was a person of many resources and had come to his aid on several occasions.
Such being the testimonials accorded to the young seafarer, the reader may well imagine the eagerness with which Mr Reid's appearance was awaited. And when at last he was summoned to the stand he did not disappoint in any respect: he was found to be more a Grecian than a Gentoo deity, ivory-complexioned and dark-haired, clean-limbed and sturdily built. Subjected to lengthy questioning, he answered steadily and without hesitation, producing a most favourable impression on the Committee.
Many of the questions that were directed at Mr Reid concerned the fate of the five fugitives who had escaped from the Ibis on the night of the storm, in one of the vessel's longboats. When asked whether there was any possibility of their having survived, Mr Reid replied that there was not the slightest doubt in his mind that they had all perished. Moreover, he said, he had seen incontestable proof of their demise with his own eyes, in the form of their capsized boat, which was found far out to sea, with its bottom stove in.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Flood of Fire by Amitav Ghosh. Copyright © 2015 Amitav Ghosh. Excerpted by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
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