Flood of Fire by Amitav Ghosh Read Free Book Online Page A

eyes on the budgerow but in that short time the condition of the houseboat had deteriorated so much that he was tempted to think that she had gone into mourning for her lost master, as abandoned dogs and horses are said to do: the colours of the hull had been bleached to dull shades of blue and grey and the Raskhali emblem – the stylized head of a tiger – had faded to a barely visible outline. Yet, even in this state of neglect it was evident that the budgerow was a fine, broad-beamed vessel that had been designed to suit the tastes of a wealthy man.
    The first quick inspection proved reassuring: Zachary saw that his work would consist mainly of cleaning, retouching, polishing and making a few replacements. The budgerow’s hull was fundamentally sound and no structural elements would require rebuilding. Many deck-planks needed to be replaced and the head-works and upper stem would have to be retouched and repointed. The intricately carved stem-cheeks had rotted and would need to be replaced and re-carved. Many of the gammonings had come loose and something would have to be done about them; a few of the hawse-timbers, knightheads and bobstay pieces also needed attention. But all in all the situation was not quite as bad as it appeared – with a little luck he’d be able to get the job done in six to eight months.And the best part of it, he reckoned, was that he would be able to manage most of the work on his own.
    He decided to start by clearing the decks. Peeling off his shirt, he worked his way down the vessel’s starboard side until he reached the door that led to the main reception room. When he turned the knob the door creaked open: the room smelled of damp and mildew; the chandelier was wrapped in a shroud of cobwebs and the furniture was blanketed in layers of dust.
    This was where Zachary had first met the former Raja of Raskhali, Neel Rattan Halder. He remembered how surprised he had been to see that the host was quite young – a sickly-looking man with indolent eyes and a lethargic manner. Looking around the mouldy reception room now, Zachary was aware of a twinge of pity: who would have thought that day, when they were all sipping champagne in this room, that the Raja had but a few more weeks of liberty left and would soon end up feeding the sharks?
    Stepping out of the reception room, Zachary set to work on the ladder that led to the open deck on top. Clearing the rungs one at a time, he slowly made his way into the fading sunlight and found himself looking at a fine view of the riverfront. The Burnham mansion was a few hundred yards downriver, on the same shore; on the far bank lay the tree-lined perimeter of Calcutta’s Botanical Garden.
    For Zachary the surroundings were steeped in memory, most of all of Paulette Lambert, the Burnhams’ erstwhile ward: the Botanical Garden was where she had grown up and the Burnham mansion was where she had been living when Zachary first met her. Now, glancing at the twilit house, he was reminded of a dinner-party at which he and Paulette had been seated next to each other: he had never imagined then that she would soon run away, to board the Ibis in the garb of a coolie-woman; nor had he imagined that she would come into his cabin one night and that he would hold her in his arms. The recollection was vivid enough to send a pang of yearning through his body. Stepping quickly down the companion-ladder, he went back to the lower deck and began to open the doors of the cabins at random.
    The last door was reluctant to yield and he had to force it with his shoulder. When it creaked open he found himself in a palatialstateroom, panelled with fine wood and fitted with brass sconces. This room appeared to have been spared the ravages that had consumed the other parts of the boat: the bed was still covered with sheets, curtained by a dusty mosquito net. Parting the netting, he threw himself backwards on the bed: it was so soft that he bounced a