Jason, wondering, on the off chance, if any of this concerned him, asked ‘do you see me being involved in this in any way? I know that Dame Fortune, that most fickle lady, plans matters without consulting us but one of my mottos is “react to the unexpected” and if anything ever was unexpected, this is.’
Ah Fat looked at him, thoughtfully. ‘A tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed Caucasian loitering in an Indian Chinatown? I suppose tourists or, even, European businessmen in the leather trade could visit the place, Jason. The purser and I will go there on Day 2 or 3. Yes, it would be fun for us to go together but not before I go with him. You don’t speak Hak Wa but you can get by with your Cantonese. You might learn something by not speaking it! Were you to come trailing along with me and the purser you’ll be so incongruous and of such suspicion that I myself will be in danger of being thought of colluding with imperialists, fascists, colonials and I don’t know who else,’ and he smiled ruefully.
‘Yes, I think a threesome is quite out the question.’ said Jason disarmingly. ‘Let’s “play it by ear” and see what turns up when we get there, shall we? Could be that nothing will.’
***
Two days out from Rangoon the sick child died. Both parents were distraught and wondered how they could take their daughter’s body back to Nepal for correct obsequies to be carried out. The father, a corporal from 1/10 GR, came to see Jason with the senior Gurkha officer of his own battalion for advice.
‘Taking your daughter’s body all the way to Nepal may not be possible or advisable,’ Jason said, ‘nor do I know how the authorities in Rangoon and later on in Calcutta will accept a dead body. I have no experience of deaths at sea. Let me go and see the Captain for advice.’ Yes, that was sensible. ‘I’ll come back with what he says and let you know.’
Jason went to see Captain Lam Wai Lim who had already been told of the death. Unthinkingly Jason broached him in Chinese which made the elderly man flex his back muscles in surprise but, with the inherent good manners of all Chinese, reacted as though being spoken to in fluent Chinese by a gwai lo was something normal. Jason mentioned the need for correct obsequies and the desire of the parents not to forgo such.
‘Captain Rance, my firm advice is a burial at sea. My carpenters can make a coffin which we will drape, sadly not with a Union Jack or a Nepalese flag as we hold neither, but the flag of the Steam Navigation Company. To take a dead body onto Burmese soil will result in repercussions that will be so protracted that we will have to leave you and the father of the baby behind in Rangoon. They will suspect foul play. It could take weeks. No, please try and convince the parents and their friends that my advice is almost mandatory.’
‘Won’t the Burmese authorities take the signature of the ship’s doctor as certifying the reason for the death? They must, surely,’ Jason expostulated.
‘Even if they do believe it they will behave as if they don’t. Anything quicker than, say, six weeks, will cost you more money than even a British captain can afford.’
Jason shook his head in weary disgust, thanked the Captain and said he would only give him a direct answer for the burial once he had spoken to the family.
He called for the parents and the senior Gurkha officer to let them know what the Captain had advised and why. It took some time to convince the mother although the father agreed once the Gurkha officer had reminded them that the battalion pundit was also on board and that he could give the correct blessings as the body was tipped overboard. The mother eventually, through tears, acquiesced and Jason told the Captain, whose only stipulation was that the burial had to be done outside Burmese territorial waters. On the following morning, a small coffin, draped with the company flag, diagonal white stripes on a blue background, was blessed by the pundit before being tipped overboard, with all 10 GR leave men parading in sympathy.
Jason, feeling a weight off his shoulders, went to amend the nominal roll of families of 10 GR. He hoped that the Port Authorities would not query the amendment. Burmese was not one of his languages so he could not be as convincing as he otherwise might have been. Leave it to chance!
***
Tuesday 18 November1952, Rangoon: Being tied up alongside the quay was unpleasantly hot, even as late as mid-November, and boring once the novelty of seeing stores loaded and unloaded had worn off. The Gurkha officers asked their OC Troops if the men and families could stretch their legs on the quayside. ‘I’ll find out,’ Jason had said and was told, several hours later, that, yes, they could exercise themselves – between two and four o’clock in the morning. The offer was politely declined.
***
Mr Dhruba Kumar Oli called his assistant, the Vice Consul, to his office. He was Mansing Basnet, whose round, honest face had an expression of permanent surprise as though he could not quite believe where he had found himself. But, in fact, he was a shrewd operator. The Consul had given him the letter to read and now he needed to discuss the most sensible course of action. Two heads were better than one for occasions such as this. ‘Mansing-ji, the boat with the mutinying soldiers should be safely tied up by now.’
‘Hajur, I have checked and yes it is.’
The two men looked at each other, both knowing what was in the other’s mind. ‘You have read the King’s letter, haven’t you?’ the Consul asked, knowing the answer but wanting to lead in gradually to what was in his mind and, also, on his conscience.
The Vice Consul nodded as the Consul knew he would. Words were unnecessary.
‘You know I cannot go myself but there was nothing in the letter that forbade you to go, was there?’ Past tense, with the letter burnt and its ashes blown away. ‘His Majesty wants himself and our Calcutta Consul briefed, doesn’t he?’ A nod. ‘It would be, what, provident to find out from any British officer in charge, there must surely be one, who even maybe in danger of his life.’
Yes, that made sense and, in fact, both men were bursting to find out everything about this whole unprecedented and amazing matter.
‘Hajur, that is certainly so.’ Now they were both implicated the Consul felt happier. ‘Suppose you asked me if you could go and see for yourself. That way I wouldn’t have tried to make you go, would I?’ Oli wheezed in his cunning and excitement.
The Vice Consul shook his head. ‘No, Hajur, that is true. There will be families on board and if your wife and mine went with me in the car it would let the mutinous soldiers see we had just’ – he emphasised that word – ‘come on a courtesy visit.’
The Consul smiled. ‘Yes. I like that. See to it.’
The consulate car was a recently bought Ambassador, a clunky, steady machine. ‘I’ll drive. Those Port Authorities can be difficult people but there should be no trouble in our getting into the dock area with our diplomatic ID cards and the car’s diplomatic plates and if you, Consul-ji, ring them up before I leave, it will make that doubly sure.’
The Vice Consul drove to the main gate of the docks where he was unexpectedly given a cheery wave through into the dock area when his diplomatic and the two ladies’ ID cards were shown. He knew the name of the boat so was given an entry pass and told what quay to drive up to. Eventually, with car parked and locked, the three Nepalis came to the gangway and, showing diplomatic cards once more and the one signed by the dock authorities, were taken to the Purser’s Office.
‘I am the Nepalese Vice Consul and these two ladies are the consul’s wife as well as my own. I wish to see the British officer in charge of the Gurkhas on board, if there is one.’
‘Yes there is a British captain. I will call him.’ The purser pulled the Tannoy microphone over and, in English, twice called out, ‘Attention please, attention please. Will the OC Troops please report to the Purser’s Office now.’ He put the machine back and asked the trio to wait.
Jason, wearing plain clothes, came down the stairs opposite the office, smiled at the three waiting people and asked the purser what was wanted. On being told he turned towards the three visitors but before he could introduce himself the man said in English ‘I am Mansing Basnet, Vice Consul of the Nepalese consulate, here in Rangoon. These ladies are the Consul’s wife and my wife.’
Jason made namasté in return and automatically replied in Nepali, ‘I am Captain Rance, the OC Troops. I’d have put on uniform to welcome you if I’d have known you were coming so please excuse my casual dress.’ He surprised and delighted all three Nepalis by his charming smile and linguistic fluency. ‘So you want to visit the leave party …’
He was interrupted. ‘Leave party, did you say?’
‘Yes, that’s right. That what we call them and I am in charge of them. Before we start off I must warn them. Please wait a moment.’
On the Tannoy he announced ‘Troops to go to their boat stations and families go to their cabins, please. We have official Nepali visitors who have come to meet you and this will it make it easy for them to see everyone.’ He repeated the message, finishing off ‘Thank you.’
They made their way slowly around the boat stations, Jason leading but not saying much and letting the Vice Consul do the talking. Surprisingly there was not nearly as much talk as the OC Troops had expected – snooty? –with, Jason noticed, the Vice Consul looking at the men rather more than speaking to them. The women with him said nothing. Not having experienced anything in Kathmandu or of Nepalese functionaries Jason merely thought how different it was, far from the way British officers behaved in Gurkha battalions.
After each group was looked at Jason told the men to stand down and carry on with whatever they were doing. ‘Now to the cabins, Hajur,’ he told his three visitors.
It was the women’s turn to talk but, again not much was said. They called the children over to them, surprised and a little nonplussed when some of them ran to Jason and grabbed him around his, not their, knees. Nothing was said about the sea burial in the dead girl’s cabin: it would have been an intolerable intrusion into the parents’ privacy to have had the matter referred to.
At the end Jason asked them if they would like to accompany him to the lounge and have either some tea or coffee. ‘No, we must go back. I want you to come with me.’
‘No, sorry Vice Consul saheb. I can’t because we are only allowed off the boat between 2 and 4 in the small hours and that only on the quay beside the boat. Otherwise of course I’d accept your invitation.’
‘I can get you through all formalities,’ answered the Vice Consul, authority in his voice.
