'Stow yer magging, Reid!' The first mate's hand came flying out of the shadows to strike Zachary across the face. Then a blade flashed in the lamplight and its point came to rest on Zachary's upper lip. 'I'se done my time, Mannikin, and ye'll do it too. Ye're just a broth of a boy: I'll bring y'to yer bearings soon enough.'

'With your knife, Mr Crowle?' Now the blade began to descend, travelling downwards in a straight line, from Zachary's nose, past his chin to the base of his throat.

'I tell yer, Mannikin, ye're not nigger enough to leave Jack Crowle hangin a-cockbill; not when he's all catted and fished. I'll corpse yer before I let yer gi'me the slip.'

'Better do it then, Mr Crowle. Better do it now.'

'Oh, I'd kill yer without a thought, Mannikin,' said Mr Crowle, through his teeth. 'Don't y'doubt it. I'se done it before and I'll do it again. Wouldn't make a penn'orth o'difference to me.'

Now Zachary could feel the cold metal point pushing against his throat. 'Go on, Mr Crowle,' he said, steeling himself. 'Do it. I'm ready.'

With the tip of the knife biting into his skin, Zachary kept his eyes fixed upon the first mate's, even as he was preparing himself for the thrust. But it was Mr Crowle's gaze that wavered first, and then the knife faltered and fell away.

'God damn yer eyes, Reid!'

Throwing his head back, the first mate gave voice to a howl that welled up from the bottom of his belly. 'The devil take yer, Reid; God damn yer eyes…'

Just then, even as the first mate was standing in front of Zachary, staring in disbelief at the knife he had been unable to use, the door of the cabin creaked open. Framed in the doorway stood the slight, shadowy figure of the half-Chinese convict: he had a sharp-tipped handspike in his grip, Zachary saw, and he was holding it not as a sailor would, but like a swordsman, with the point extended.

Sensing his presence, the first mate spun around, with his knife at the ready. When he saw who it was, he snarled in disbelief: 'Jackin-ape?'

Ah Fatt's presence seemed to have a tonic effect on the first mate, restoring him instantly to his usual self: as if exhilarated by the prospect of violent release, he made a swinging lunge with his knife. Ah Fatt swayed easily out of the way, seeming hardly to move at all, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet. His eyes were almost closed, as if in prayer, and his handspike was no longer extended, but folded against his chest, its point tucked under his chin.

'Going to cut yer tongue out, Jackin-ape,' said Mr Crowle, in a voice that was filled with menace. 'Then I'm a-goin to make yer eat it too.'

The mate made another thrust, aiming at the belly, but Ah Fatt turned sideways, eluding the point of his blade. This time the momentum of the strike carried the mate forward, exposing his flank. Spinning on his heel, like a bullfighter, Ah Fatt thrust the handspike through his ribs, burying it almost to the hilt. He held on to his weapon as the mate dropped to the deck, and when the spike was free of his body, he turned the bloody point towards Zachary. 'Stay where you are. Or else, you too…'

Then, just as quickly as he had come, he was gone: slamming the door behind him, he thrust the handspike through the handles, locking Zachary into the cabin.

Zachary fell to his knees beside the pool of blood that was leaking out of the first mate's flank: 'Mr Crowle?'

He caught the sound of a choking whisper: 'Reid? Reid…'

Zachary lowered his head, to listen to the faltering voice. 'Y'were the one, Reid – the one I'se been lookin for. Y'were the one…'

His words were choked off by a surge of blood, gushing up through his mouth and nose. Then his head snapped back and his body went rigid; when Zachary put a hand under his nostrils, there was no evidence of breath. The schooner lurched and the first mate's lifeless body rolled with it. The edge of the old crew-list could be seen peering out of his vest: Zachary pulled it out and stuffed it into his own pocket. Then he rose to his feet and shoved his shoulder against the door. It gave a little, and he jiggled it gently until the handspike slipped out, falling to the deck with a thud.

Bursting out of the first mate's cabin, Zachary saw that his own door was already open. Without pausing to look inside, he went racing up to the quarter-deck. Rain was lashing down from the sky in knotted sheets; it was as if the schooner's sails had come unfastened and were tearing themselves apart against the hull. Instantly drenched, Zachary raised a hand to shelter his eyes from the sting of the rain. A wave of lightning surged across the sky, widening as it travelled westwards, flooding the water below with a rolling tide of radiance. In that unearthly light a longboat seemed to leap out at Zachary, from the crest of a wave: although it was already some twenty yards off the schooner's beam, the faces of the five men who were in it could be clearly seen. Serang Ali was at the rudder, and the other four were huddled in its middle – Jodu, Neel, Ah Fatt and Kalua. Serang Ali had seen Zachary too, and he was raising his hand to wave when the craft dropped behind a ridge of water and disappeared from view.

As the lightning was retreating across the sky, Zachary became aware that he was not the only one who was watching the boat: there were three others on the main deck, below, standing with their arms interlinked. Two of them he recognized immediately, Paulette and Baboo Nob Kissin – but the third was a woman in a sodden sari, who had never before uncovered her face in his presence. Now, in the fading glow of the clouds, she turned to look at him and he saw that she had piercing grey eyes. Although it was the first time he had seen her face, he knew that he had glimpsed her somewhere, standing much as she was now, in a wet sari, hair dripping, looking at him with startled grey eyes.

Acknowledgements

Sea of Poppies owes a great debt to many nineteenth-century scholars, dictionarists, linguists and chroniclers: most notably to Sir George Grierson, for his Report on Colonial Emigration from the Bengal Presidency, 1883, for his grammar of the Bhojpuri language, and for his 1884 and 1886 articles on Bhojpuri folk songs; to J. W. S. MacArthur, one-time Superintendent of the Ghazipur Opium Factory, for his Notes on an Opium Factory (Thacker, Spink, Calcutta, 1865); to Lt Thomas Roebuck, for his nautical lexicon, first published in Calcutta, An English And Hindostanee Naval Dictionary Of Technical Terms And Sea Phrases As Also The Various Words Of Command Given In Working A Ship, &C. With Many Sentences Of Great Use At Sea; To Which Is Prefixed A Short Grammar Of The Hindostanee Language (reprinted in London in 1813 by Black, Parry & Co., booksellers to the Hon. East India Company; later revised by George Small, and reissued by W. H. Allen & Co., under the title A Laskari Dictionary Or Anglo-Indian Vocabulary Of Nautical Terms And Phrases In English And Hindustani, London, 1882); to Sir Henry Yule & A. C. Burnell, authors of Hobson-Jobson: A Glossary Of Colloquial Anglo-Indian Words And Phrases, And Of Kindred Terms, Etymological, Historical, Geographical And Discursive; and to the Chief Justice of Calcutta's Supreme Court of Judicature for his verdict in the 1829 forgery trial of Prawnkissen Holdar (reprinted in Anil Chandra Das Gupta, ed., The Days of John Company: Selections from Calcutta Gazette 1824-1832, West Bengal Govt. Press, Calcutta, 1959, pp. 366-38).

This novel has been greatly enriched by the work of many contemporary and near-contemporary scholars and historians. The complete list of books, articles and essays that have contributed to my understanding of the period is too long to reproduce here, but it would be remiss of me not to acknowledge my gratitude for, and my indebtedness to, the work of the following: Clare Anderson, Robert Antony, David Arnold, Jack Beeching, Kingsley Bolton, Sarita Boodhoo, Anne Bulley, B. R. Burg, Marina Carter, Hsin-Pao Chang, Weng Eang Cheong, Tan Chung, Maurice Collis, Saloni Deerpalsingh, Guo Deyan, Jacques M. Downs, Amar Farooqui, Peter Ward Fay, Michael Fisher, Basil Greenhill, Richard H. Grove, Amalendu Guha, Edward O. Henry, Engseng Ho, Hunt Janin, Isaac Land, C. P. Liang, Brian Lubbock, Dian H. Murray, Helen Myers, Marcus Rediker, John F. Richards, Dingxu Shi, Asiya Siddiqi, Radhika Singha, Michael Sokolow, Vijaya Teelock, Madhavi Thampi and Rozina Visram.