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

little and began to laugh.
    The luxury! It was almost unimaginable after all he’d been through. The bed alone was bigger than his cabin on the Ibis – the very cabin in which he had held Paulette in his arms and briefly kissed her lips.
    Through the last many months, in Mauritius and in Calcutta, Paulette had been Zachary’s constant companion: whenever his plight had seemed insupportable he had conjured up her phantom, so that he could quarrel with her. ‘You see, Miss Paulette, what you’ve put me through! Do you ever think about it, Miss Paulette? That I wouldn’t be in the chokey now if it weren’t for you?’
    And then her tall slim frame would take shape in the shadows and she would step out of the corners of whatever hell-hole he happened to be in. Gawky, as always, half-tripping over her feet, she would come to sit beside him, just as she had during their last and fiercest argument on the Ibis : when she had pleaded with him not to prevent the escape that was to be attempted that night.
    â€˜You asked me to let the five of them get away, Miss Paulette and so I did – and you see where it got me?’
    But sometimes the exchange would take a softer turn and the argument would end as it had that night, when he had thrown his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. At times her presence would become so real, even in the cramped circumstances of a flop-house, that he would have to banish her from his mind for fear that the men around him would begin to snigger, as they always did when a man was heard to be working his pump.
    But now, blissfully alone, for the first time in months, lying in this soft, yielding bed, there was no need to hold her off: his body seemed to be waking from a long sleep, tingling with an almost forgotten urgency of desire. A voluptuousness like he had not felt in an age took possession of him – it was all too easy to imagine that it was not his own hand but Paulette’s that was snaking into his breeches.
    Afterwards, as he was drifting off to sleep he thought, as often before, what a providential thing it was that the Creator, having cursed the race of Man with an unruly and headstrong organ, had also been merciful enough to give him a handy means of taming it.
    He slept as soundly as he ever had and on waking in the morning he shared another brief but ecstatic encounter with Paulette before jumping out of bed, wonderfully refreshed. After making himself some tea and porridge he set to work, scouring the foredeck.
    The boat had been so long neglected that it was slow going. Around noon a khidmatgar unexpectedly brought him a tray of leftovers from the Burnham bobachee-connuh and he carried it gratefully inside: there was rice, a large bowl of Country Captain, and relishes of all sorts, enough to last him through lunch and supper as well.
    He ate his fill, and the drowsiness induced by the rich food prompted him to return to his cabin. It wasn’t with any conscious intention of summoning Paulette that he lay down, but when she came to him, of her own accord, he could see no reason to push her away.
    But afterwards, catching sight of the gluey stains on the bedsheets he was stricken with guilt. Pulling up his breeches, he went back to the foredeck and resumed scrubbing.
    This part of the boat had no covering or shade and he was soon uncomfortably hot. Removing his shoes, socks and shirt made little difference: all his clothing was soon soaked in sweat; his breeches, already sticky, seemed to be plastered to his skin.
    The river, muddy though it was, looked very appealing now. He cast an appraising glance at the Burnham mansion, wondering if anyone would see him if he stripped down to his underwear and jumped into the water.
    The house was a long way away, with a wide expanse of lawn in between. It was siesta time and there was not a soul to be seen, in the house or on the lawn. He decided that the chance was worth taking: there were thick