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Authors: Michael Moorcock
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bar.
Shortly afterwards Nye came in. He looked tired, as if he had not been to bed since I had seen him.
“Give me a triple gin, Olmeijer, quick. Morning, Bastable. I don’t advise you to go back through the town alone. There’s a lot of trouble. Big gangs of Malays and Chinese fighting each other. Arson, rape and bloody murder all over the place.”
“Has Begg found out about...?”
“Not yet, but pretty well everyone else knows. He’ll hear soon. The Chinese managed to steal a Malay boat last night and buggered off with it—probably poor Underwood’s murderers making their getaway. The Malays roughed up some Chinese families. The Chinese retaliated. I think we’re in very hot water this time.”
I told him about the wireless message to Darwin and the probability of a ship coming. He looked more than relieved. “You’d better send one of your chaps into New Brum, Olmeijer. Tell him to let everyone know—to get up here as fast as possible.”
Grumbling, Olmeijer rolled off to find a servant.
Nye walked round to the other side of the bar. “I think another drink is called for—on the house. Bastable?” I nodded. “Dempsey?”
I saw that Dempsey had woken up and was making for the door. He shook his head and said with a tight, crooked smile, “I’ve some business in town. Cheerio.”
“It’s dangerous,” I said.
“I’ll be all right. Hope to see you later, Bastable.”
We watched him leave.
“Poor bastard,” said Nye. He shuddered and downed his gin.
CHAPTER NINE
Hopes of Salvation
B egg came up to the hotel in the afternoon and asked suspiciously after Underwood. We said that we had heard he’d had some sort of accident. He didn’t believe us, of course, but he had his hands full in the town and couldn’t wait to question us further. He’d escorted some clergymen to the hotel and some Chinese nuns from the Catholic mission. They sat huddled in the far corner of the bar and didn’t talk much to us. Nesbit’s secretary, a round-faced, anxious Bengali, had come with Begg and he remained almost constantly by the window, looking out as if he expected the airship to arrive at any minute. I asked Begg about Dempsey and the soldier glowered at me, muttering that Dempsey had been seen with some of the Chinese “rebels” and might find himself in real trouble with the authorities if he wasn’t careful. I also learned that Hira had decided to stay on at the hospital along with most of his nuns.
By that evening a few more people had drifted up, including two Irish priests who joined the others in the corner. Olmeijer seemed delighted to have so many new guests and rushed around seeing that rooms were prepared for them. Even I received a room on the second floor.
Begg returned looking tired and angry. His normally neat uniform was dusty and he had a bruise over his right eye. He seemed to be blaming Nye and me for his problems and wouldn’t speak to us at all on this second visit. He had brought us three of his twelve-man army for protection. The rest were remaining in the town to “keep order”, though from the noise below there was precious little of that, and to protect the Official Representative’s residence, for Brigadier Nesbit, it emerged, had elected to stay, along with his valet.
Begg returned a little later. He was alone and as stiff-backed as ever as he guided his horse down the hill and disappeared into the darkness and the cacophony below. I don’t believe he was seen alive again.
By midnight the ladies and gentlemen of the cloth had all gone to bed and Nye, Olmeijer and myself were in our usual places at the bar while the little Bengali paced back and forth beside the windows.
Even Nye seemed a trifle nervous and once he expressed the belief that we “might not quite last out”. Then he, too, went to bed and the Bengali followed him. Olmeijer had his big account book open on the bar and for a while seemed cheerfully engrossed in his arithmetic before closing the book
Shortly afterwards Nye came in. He looked tired, as if he had not been to bed since I had seen him.
“Give me a triple gin, Olmeijer, quick. Morning, Bastable. I don’t advise you to go back through the town alone. There’s a lot of trouble. Big gangs of Malays and Chinese fighting each other. Arson, rape and bloody murder all over the place.”
“Has Begg found out about...?”
“Not yet, but pretty well everyone else knows. He’ll hear soon. The Chinese managed to steal a Malay boat last night and buggered off with it—probably poor Underwood’s murderers making their getaway. The Malays roughed up some Chinese families. The Chinese retaliated. I think we’re in very hot water this time.”
I told him about the wireless message to Darwin and the probability of a ship coming. He looked more than relieved. “You’d better send one of your chaps into New Brum, Olmeijer. Tell him to let everyone know—to get up here as fast as possible.”
Grumbling, Olmeijer rolled off to find a servant.
Nye walked round to the other side of the bar. “I think another drink is called for—on the house. Bastable?” I nodded. “Dempsey?”
I saw that Dempsey had woken up and was making for the door. He shook his head and said with a tight, crooked smile, “I’ve some business in town. Cheerio.”
“It’s dangerous,” I said.
“I’ll be all right. Hope to see you later, Bastable.”
We watched him leave.
“Poor bastard,” said Nye. He shuddered and downed his gin.
CHAPTER NINE
Hopes of Salvation
B egg came up to the hotel in the afternoon and asked suspiciously after Underwood. We said that we had heard he’d had some sort of accident. He didn’t believe us, of course, but he had his hands full in the town and couldn’t wait to question us further. He’d escorted some clergymen to the hotel and some Chinese nuns from the Catholic mission. They sat huddled in the far corner of the bar and didn’t talk much to us. Nesbit’s secretary, a round-faced, anxious Bengali, had come with Begg and he remained almost constantly by the window, looking out as if he expected the airship to arrive at any minute. I asked Begg about Dempsey and the soldier glowered at me, muttering that Dempsey had been seen with some of the Chinese “rebels” and might find himself in real trouble with the authorities if he wasn’t careful. I also learned that Hira had decided to stay on at the hospital along with most of his nuns.
By that evening a few more people had drifted up, including two Irish priests who joined the others in the corner. Olmeijer seemed delighted to have so many new guests and rushed around seeing that rooms were prepared for them. Even I received a room on the second floor.
Begg returned looking tired and angry. His normally neat uniform was dusty and he had a bruise over his right eye. He seemed to be blaming Nye and me for his problems and wouldn’t speak to us at all on this second visit. He had brought us three of his twelve-man army for protection. The rest were remaining in the town to “keep order”, though from the noise below there was precious little of that, and to protect the Official Representative’s residence, for Brigadier Nesbit, it emerged, had elected to stay, along with his valet.
Begg returned a little later. He was alone and as stiff-backed as ever as he guided his horse down the hill and disappeared into the darkness and the cacophony below. I don’t believe he was seen alive again.
By midnight the ladies and gentlemen of the cloth had all gone to bed and Nye, Olmeijer and myself were in our usual places at the bar while the little Bengali paced back and forth beside the windows.
Even Nye seemed a trifle nervous and once he expressed the belief that we “might not quite last out”. Then he, too, went to bed and the Bengali followed him. Olmeijer had his big account book open on the bar and for a while seemed cheerfully engrossed in his arithmetic before closing the book
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