This contrivance served its purpose well enough at the start, and Baboo Nob Kissin was able to cross the main deck at a stately pace, walking in a manner that was not undignified, although perhaps a little top-heavy. But when he came to the entrance of the chokey, the matter took quite another turn: it was not easy for a man of his girth to pass through a low, narrow doorway, and in the process of bending and wriggling, some of the gifts seemed to acquire a life of their own, with the result that the gomusta had to use both his hands to hold his heaving bosom in place. Since the two silahdars were waiting at the door, he could not let go of his burden even after he had made his way in: sitting cross-legged in the tiny cell, he was forced into a posture like that of a wet-nurse cupping a pair of sore and milk-heavy breasts.

Neel and Ah Fatt stared at this weighty apparition in astonished silence. The convicts had yet to recover from their run-in with Mr Crowle: although the incident on the fo'c'sle deck had lasted no more than a few minutes, it had hit them with the force of a flash flood, sweeping away the fragile scaffolding of their friendship and leaving a residue that consisted not just of shame and humiliation, but also of a profound dejection. Once again, as through their time at Alipore Jail, they had fallen into an uncommunicative silence. The habit had taken hold so quickly that Neel could not now think of a word to say as he sat staring at Baboo Nob Kissin across a heap of unpicked oakum.

'To check up the premises, I have come.'

Baboo Nob Kissin made this announcement very loudly, and in English, so as to cast the visit in a properly official light. 'As such, all irregularities will be spotted out.'

The speechless convicts made no reply, so the gomusta seized the opportunity to subject their foul-smelling surroundings to a close scrutiny by the flickering light of his lamp. His attention was immediately arrested by the toilet balty and for a few moments his spiritual quest was interrupted by a more earthly interest.

'In this utensil you are passing urine and doing latrine?'

For the first time in a long while, Neel and Ah Fatt exchanged glances. 'Yes,' said Neel. 'That is correct.'

The gomusta's protuberant eyes grew still larger as he contemplated the implications of this. 'So both are present during purging?'

'Alas,' said Neel, 'we have no choice in the matter.'

The gomusta shuddered to think of what this would do to bowels as sensitive as his own. 'So stoppages must be extremely rigorous and frequent?'

Neel shrugged. 'We endure our lot as best we can.'

The gomusta frowned as he looked around the chokey. 'By Jove!' he said. 'Spaces are so scanty here, I do not know how you can refrain to make your ends meet.'

This met with no response and nor did the gomusta require any. He realized now, as he sniffed the air, that Ma Taramony's presence was struggling to reassert itself – for only the nose of a mother, surely, could transform the odour of her child's ordure to an almost-pleasing fragrance? As if to confirm the urgency of his inner being's claim for attention, a pomegranate leapt from its hiding-place and came to rest atop the pile of oakum. The gomusta peered outside in alarm, and was relieved to see that the two silahdars were chatting with each other and had not noticed the fruit's sudden jump.

'Here, quickly, take,' said the gomusta, rapidly disbursing his trove of fruit, eggs, parathas and jaggery into Neel's hands. 'All is for you – extremely tasteful and beneficial to health. Motions may also be enhanced.'

Taken by surprise, Neel switched to Bengali: You are too generous…

The gomusta cut him abruptly short. Gesturing conspiratorially in the direction of the silahdars, he said: 'Kindly eschew native vernaculars. Guards are big trouble-shooters – always making mischiefs. Better they do not listen. Chaste English will suffice.'

'As you please.'

'It is advisable also that concealment of edibles is expedited.'

'Yes of course.'

Neel quickly slipped the food behind him – and just in time too, for the hoard was no sooner hidden than one of the silahdars poked his head through the door, urging the gomusta to be done with whatever he was doing.

Seeing that their time was short, Neel said quickly: 'I am most grateful to you for these gifts. But may I inquire as to the reason for your generosity?'

'You cannot connect it up?' cried the gomusta in evident disappointment.

'What?'

'That Ma Taramony has sent? Recognition is not there?'

'Ma Taramony!' Neel was perfectly familiar with the name, having often heard it on Elokeshi's lips – but the mention of it, now, took him by surprise. 'But has she not passed away?'

Here, after shaking his head vigorously in denial, Baboo Nob Kissin opened his mouth to issue an explanation. But then, faced with the task of finding words that were adequate to the enormous complexity of the matter, he changed his mind and chose instead to make a movement of the hands, a sweeping, fluttering gesture that ended with his forefinger pressed against his bosom, pointing to the presence that was blossoming within.

It was never clear whether it was because of the eloquence of this signal, or merely out of gratitude for the food the gomusta had brought – but it happened anyway that the gesture succeeded in disclosing something of more than trivial importance to Neel. He was left with the impression of having understood a little of what Baboo Nob Kissin was trying to convey; and he understood also that there was something at work within this strange man that was somehow out of the ordinary. What exactly it was he could not say, and nor was there time to think about the matter, for the silahdars had now begun to hammer on the door, to speed the gomusta's departure.

'Further discussions must wait for rainy day,' said Baboo Nob Kissin. 'I will try to prepone to earliest opportunity. Until then, please note that Ma Taramony has asked to bestow blessings-message.' With that, the gomusta patted both convicts lightly on their foreheads and plunged headfirst out of the chokey's door.

After he was gone, the chokey seemed even dimmer than usual. Without quite knowing what he was doing, Neel divided the hoard of food into two parts and held one out to his cell-mate: 'Here.'

Ah Fatt's hand stole out of the darkness to receive his share. Then, for the first time since their encounter with the first mate, he spoke: 'Neel…'

'What?'

'Was bad, what happen…'

'Don't say that to me. You should say it to yourself.'

There was a brief silence before Ah Fatt spoke again. 'I going to kill that bastard.'

'Who?'

'Crowle.'

'With what?' Neel was tempted to laugh. 'Your hands?'

'You wait. See.'

The matter of a sacramental flame was much on Deeti's mind. A proper fire, even a small one, was not to be thought of, given all the hazards. Something safe would have to be provided instead. But what? The wedding being a special occasion, the migrants had pooled their resources and gathered a few lamps and candles to light the dabusa for the last part of the nuptials. But a shuttered lamp or lantern, like those that were commonly used on the ship, would rob the ceremony of all meaning: who could take seriously a wedding in which the bride and groom performed their 'seven circles' around a single, sooty flame? Candles would have to serve the purpose, Deeti decided, as many as could safely be stuck on a single thali. The candles were found and duly lit, but when they were carried to the centre of the dabusa, the fiery thali was found to have developed a mind of its own: with the ship rolling and pitching, it went shooting around the deck, threatening to set the whole dabusa alight. It was clear that someone would have to be stationed beside it, to hold it in place – but who? There were so many volunteers that a half-dozen men had to be assigned to the task, so as not to give anyone cause for offence. Then, when the bridal couple attempted to stand up, it was only to underscore, yet again, that this ritual had not been conceived with the Black Water in mind: for no sooner had they risen than their feet were knocked out from under them by the heaving of the ship. They both flopped belly-first on the deck-planks and went tobogganing towards the jamna side of the hull. Just when a head-cracking collision seemed inevitable the schooner tilted again, to send them shooting off in the other direction, feet first. The hilarity created by this spectacle ended only when the most agile young men came forward to surround the bride and groom with a webbing of shoulders and arms, holding them upright. But soon the young men began to slip and slide too, so that many others had to join in: in her eagerness to circle the flames, Deeti made sure that she and Kalua were among the first to leap into the scrum. Soon it was as if the whole dabusa were being united in a sacramental circle of matrimony: such was the enthusiasm that when it came time for the newlyweds to enter the improvised bridal chamber, it was with some difficulty that other revellers were prevented from accompanying them as they went in.