A Call To Arms (37 page)

‘It’s the rivers which give me the greatest trouble,’ confided Hervey, as Armstrong listened to the summary of the appreciation. ‘There are too many of them and they’re too unpredictable.’

Armstrong shifted his weight on the sack of gram, pushed his
legs out straight and reached into his pocket for his pipe. ‘Rivers are rivers, aren’t they?’

To another, the remark might have meant nothing. To Hervey, who had consulted many maps and negotiated many rivers in Armstrong’s company, there was no need of elaboration. ‘Not here, by all accounts. I’ve been reading the natural history of the country, and strange it is too. Only thirty years ago the Jamuna shifted its course a full fifty miles.’

Armstrong was not overawed. ‘But if these Burmans is coming down a river to attack, then they must know where it leads. And in that case we just hunt the heel line. That’s what you’d call it, isn’t it?’

Hervey smiled. Armstrong had never followed hounds, but he had always studied his officers’ pastimes to advantage. ‘We need guides, though. And from what Mr Somervile says, they don’t much travel in these parts. I’ve yet to see these Burman agents who brought him the intelligence. They ought to have some idea of the country between here and there, even if they’ve not seen the assembly area for themselves.’

‘I’ve always distrusted guides. Ever since that time in Spain.’

A searing experience that had been. Hervey could see it now – Armstrong’s ferocious strength unleashed on the Spanish guides who had proved treacherous the night before Corunna. Never again had he had much trust in men who did not wear a uniform. ‘Mr Somervile places great faith in the hill tribes, the Chakma especially. They know the forest well, and they’re no friends of the Burmans.’

Armstrong made a face as if to say they would have to prove it first. ‘And what do your books say about the weather, sir? Thank God it’s over the worst, at least.’

Hervey knew that if Bagyidaw had threatened invasion but two months before, there could have been no thought of an anticipatory operation. The humidity at that time induced a torpor which would have prevented any expedition. The monsoon, which battered them daily, made the going so treacherous that no man was permitted to leave camp except in the company of two others. It had been a time when the stoutest hearts had begun to wonder how long they could endure. ‘Yes, it’s surely over the worst. We must hope the rivers are falling.’

Private Johnson appeared. ‘Oh, there thee is, Cap’n ’Ervey. Mr Somervile’s man’s been lookin’ for thee.’

‘What does he want?’

Johnson took off his forage cap and wiped his brow with his sleeve. ‘Somethin’ abaht some blackies that needs to talk to thee.’

‘This sounds promising,’ said Hervey. ‘Where is Mr Somervile’s man now?’ he asked, turning back to Johnson.

‘Waitin’ outside. Shall I fetch ’im in?’

‘No, no. I’ll be along shortly. Would you ask Mr Seton Canning to take evening stables for me? And tell my bearer to expect me late; and to leave some collops or whatever.’

‘Ay sir.’ Johnson replaced his cap, glanced at the serjeant-major and nodded his respects, then turned to leave the feed store.

‘Nearly got his name in the incident book last night, did Johnson,’ said Armstrong when he was gone.

‘Really?’ Hervey thought Johnson long past the orderly serjeant’s notice.

Armstrong blew out a great cloud of sweet-smelling smoke from the last of the Tokay-soaked leaf he had bought in Calcutta. ‘He put BC on his back. With a left hook, too!’

‘Did he indeed? Do we know why?’

‘Disputed ownership.’

‘Of a woman?’

‘None of ’em’d come to blows over that. They’d share ’em quite happily.’

‘Well what, then?’

‘A razor.’

‘Great heavens.’

‘Seems there’s been a bit of light-fingering of late. Thought was that it must be one of the darkie-wallahs. There are so many of them that come and go.’

‘And Dodds was found with Johnson’s razor?’

‘Seems so. But the circumstances sounded a bit queer. Dodds swore blind it must’ve been put with his kit by mistake.’

‘Is that likely?’

‘It’s
possible
. Half the troop’s shaved in bed of a morning. So rather than make anything formal of it, Johnson tipped ’im a settler.’

Hervey smiled with a certain pride, though the inference of
Dodds’s recidivism worried him. ‘I thought he’d been treading a straight path. You yourself said so.’

‘I did, and he had, to start with. He needs chasing, though. That sort just can’t stick with it.’

Hervey sighed. But even if he needed chasing, Dodds was still a sabre. He could only hope that he was not a prigster, as the men had it. ‘I have a feeling that between them, Corporal McCarthy and that subdivision will keep his hand to the task.’

‘They better had,’ Armstrong muttered. ‘What about dhoolies and syces and the like?’

Hervey shook his head. ‘No dhoolies, no syces, no gram-grinders – no
anything
but what we would have had with us in France. Half a dozen cacolets, perhaps. And pray God we shan’t need them.’

Armstrong made notes. ‘And Boy Porrit?’

Porrit had come with four other boys at the last minute in Chatham, sons of the gun or dockyard foundlings. He and another had been mustered with E Troop, though his ‘twin’ had died of a fit not long out to sea.

‘It’s a year since he was enlisted – at sixteen – Sar’nt-Major. The farrier will need him.’

‘Sir, he was nowt but a bairn when he ’listed – barely fourteen, I’d reckon.’

‘His papers say otherwise, and now’s not the time to be counting. He’d want to go, anyway.’

Armstrong kept his peace. Porrit would be another that he would have to keep an eye on, albeit a paternal one; as if there weren’t enough already.

‘One more thing. Who should be my coverman?’

Armstrong turned the question over in his mind for a moment. ‘Stent or Harkness.’

‘Not McCarthy?’

‘Not with that seat. Not yet. I’d go for Stent. Harkness is stronger with a sword, but Stent’s the better jockey. And he’s more of a thinking head.’

Hervey stood and brushed the dust from his overalls, put on his cap and made his excuses. ‘One way or another we’ll have something by morning. I’ll say whatever at first parade. Good night.’

Armstrong rose too. ‘Ay. And I’ll keep my peace, no matter. Though God help us if it ever comes to a fight.’ The imprecation
was more than the soldier’s casual profanity. Armstrong had seen Hervey in his determination many a time before, but there was a distinctly new edge to the steel now – an edge he feared might cut both ways.

10 November, next day

‘Stand a-a-at … ease! Stand easy.’

Hervey’s command put the half-hundred on muster parade next morning into an attitude at once relaxed and yet full of anticipation. Muster was normally a prompt affair, little more than a count of heads – the serious business of inspections began later with ‘boot and saddle’ – so that the order for standing easy presaged an announcement. It might be good news or bad; it was the practice in the Sixth to announce defaulters’ punishments at muster; or there might be a court circular ‘to be read at the head of all troops’ (Hervey had been dreading the despatch which would give the report of their erstwhile colonel-in-chief’s trial, for the arraignment of Princess Caroline had been long spoken of with very decided views in the regiment). Or it might be that, as this morning, the officer commanding would have some instruction for them which could not be trusted to the written page of routine orders, being either too oppressive without fuller explanation, or else too portentous to be conveyed from the notice-board. There was a buzz of expectancy now, barely audible but a buzz nevertheless.

‘You will have heard talk about the lines these past weeks regarding the warlike antics of King Bagyidaw of Ava,’ began Hervey, glancing from right to left along the front rank and into the rear rank as best he could. All eyes were alert and turned to him. ‘The lieutenant-governor has therefore concluded that it shall be prudent to reinforce the regular patrols along the borders of the Company’s territory, and to obtain reinforcements for the security of Chittagong and the other principal settlements. Accordingly a brigade is being assembled at this moment in Calcutta to augment the garrison, and we have orders to proceed to the border this day.’

Hervey paused to let the announcement take its effect. The earlier buzz returned, even stronger. And it was the sound of approval. Hervey wondered what it might be if he were able to tell them the whole truth. But that would have to wait until they were gone from earshot of any who would retail the intelligence to the Burmans – however impossible the act might seem.

‘The remainder of the morning is to be spent in preparation for taking to the field, in accordance with standing instructions. The troop is to muster at two o’clock in campaign order, and in all respects ready to march. That is all for the present. Carry on, please, Serjeant-Major.’

‘Sir!’ snapped Armstrong, and with a relish that made some of the dragoons shudder. ‘E Troop!’ he barked.

The two ranks snapped back to the braced ‘at ease’.

‘Atte-e-en
shun
!’

Armstrong’s right hand shot to the peak of his shako as Hervey and his two officers turned away.

‘Don’t ask of me anything more at this time,’ said Hervey when he saw Seton Canning’s mouth open. ‘There’ll be fuller orders when we march. Just keep a close eye on things. They’ll need the
jaldi
putting into them, that’s for sure, even with the likes of Armstrong and Collins chasing.’

It was strange, thought Hervey, even as he said it, how in a matter only of months they had adopted so much of the Bengal army’s cant.

‘Do you want me to take boot and saddle?’ asked Seton Canning.

‘If you please,’ said Hervey, without a glance. ‘And go to it this
morning on the assumption that we’ll see action before the week’s out.’

His lieutenant seemed surprised. ‘Do you really think so, Hervey?’

‘Don’t be a bloody fool, Harry. I’d not say so if I didn’t think it!’

Seton Canning was taken aback. It was the first time Hervey had spoken thus to him. ‘Shall you give us orders before we march?’

‘No,’ said Hervey, keeping up his pace. ‘I’m not trusting myself to say a word. You’ll learn why soon enough.’

The lieutenant could still feel the edge in his captain’s tone, and he decided to withdraw. ‘Anything more, sir?’

‘No,’ replied Hervey briskly, his mind now intent elsewhere. ‘I have to see Skinner’s Horse about something. Carry on.’

Hervey walked alone to the native horse lines. He had no clear idea how he would secure his intent, for he had no warrant from the lieutenant-governor, and, moreover, the Skinner’s commandant had yet to return from his long furlough. To Hervey, the other British officer, the adjutant, was a man of uncertain temperament. He was no gentleman, and therefore inclined to some resentment; but he was diligent, the commandant had said, and he had the respect of the native officers. He had dined with E Troop’s officers several times, but none had found him a boon companion, although the hospitality ought at least to make for civility now.

As Hervey approached the Skinner’s lines, the daffadar of the quarter-guard began shouting, and soon sowars in yellow kurtas and fur-edged lungis were doubling from the guardroom, snatching lances from the rack on the verandah and falling into line in front of the yellow-painted bound-stones. The daffadar called them to attention, and a dozen pennants fluttered then fell uniformly to the right side of each vertical lance. He marched up to Hervey, halted and saluted. Then he spoke in a high and melodious voice – Hindoostani, clear and measured, as if he were not a native speaker. So near was it to Urdu that Hervey grasped its purport: the daffadar had sent a runner to inform the orderly jemadar, and the daffadar would conduct him to regimental headquarters.

‘Is the adjutant at orderly room, daffadar?’ asked Hervey, the Urdu simple enough.

‘Yes, sahib.’

‘Very well.’

The daffadar saluted again and turned to lead the captain-sahib to the headquarters. Hervey looked at each sowar as he walked past the guard. They were big men, full-bearded, from the country west of Bengal. He would wish them with him if it ever came to a fight. He had no doubt they would sooner come with him across the border than stay here, but that he could not risk.