Read Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. Online
Authors: Winchcombe Taylor
"Oh, I've bought ye another hundred's worth of gumlac, and I'll arrange wi' the next ship's supercargo for more space for ye," the Scot said casually, "Nay, don't thank me, lad, 'tis a pleasure."
So that I'll take one of your daughters off your hands, myself, eh? Ram thought. Well, I'll take the bribe but avoid the trap.
Hume rose. "I'll tell Ritter ye're to go off on company business. Leave all to me, lad. Good night to ye."
The prospect of going off alone to see new sights and meet new people kept Ram so engrossed that he lost his feeling of guilt about Bea and he even began to resent her obvious coolness toward him. As for Annie, she had hardly spoken to him, even in public.
The night came before the day when he would drop downriver, and he was tense with anticipation as he undressed in his bedroom.
"Ram!" Annie herself glided in. "The chicks, quick!"
Another fiasco, with Bea storming in? But he drew the lattices and blew out two of the lamps.
"I had to come." She seated herself. "Why were you so cruel? I said I'd give ye everything, but ye wouldn't wait. You took herl"
He tried to explain, but she cut him short. "I know. She's ma sister. She'll lay with any man. But I want you only. Don't ye know that, lad?" Her eyes were glinting.
"Will she come after you tonight too?" he managed, trembling.
"She's other fish to fry," she laughed. "I waited till she'd gone. D'ye know who she's with? Your pig-faced superior!"
He remembered Bea's scornful ". . . yon pink German, wi' his swine eyes . . ." He wanted to retch.
Annie had risen, watching him. "Now I'm here, would you send me away?" Her voice was husky, challenging. "Or would ye want to find out if I'm not better than ma sister?"
He did. She was—infinitely. Even his limited experience recognized that here was one who gave with feral abandon. Only later, as they lay side by side, did he feel a twinge of disgust, for the broken words she'd used in her passion had duplicated Bea's.
She spoke, softly at first, then with growing rancor. "Lad, can ye understand what life has for folks like me? Why d'ye think Father took service wi' this foreign company? Because Mama's blacker than any native and we're looked down on by the great ladies of the H.E.I.C! Half-castes!" She spat the word. "Don't I make love like women wi' whiter skins. Wouldn't my bairns be as cuddly? If ye don't want to marry me, just take me home and I'll be your whore—aye, and I'll make Father give us my dowry anyhow."
"I can't leave at will," he hedged. "Prince Eugene himself sent me here, and he can order me to Coblom or even back to Austria."
She wept, her tears diamondlike in the soft lamplight. "Don't mind me, I'm a weak fool," she sniffed, getting up. "Bea came back that night and wakened me to tell me everything. I could have killed her! She'll tell again tonight—how strong the German is. I'll laugh in her face." She kissed him hotly. "I love ye. Ram!"
He watched, fascinated, as she donned her shift, her petticoats, how she drew on her stockings and tied them above her knees. \\'Tien she had taken up her cloak, she turned once more to the bed.
"Sleep well, love."
"Not yet," he begged, drawing her down. "Dawn's far off."
She tittered. "Why didn't ye say so before I dressed?"
As Ram went aboard, three half-naked men salaamed. One was Lai Manjhi, the captain, who escorted him into a small leaf-thatched cabin, wherein Gopal Das had arranged a charpoy, chairs and a table. The dhow cast off and the sail went up—Lai Manjhi working a great sweep over the stern.
Ram looked back at the factory, puzzled as to what he could do to escape the net one or more of the Humes was drawing around him. But soon worrying became too great an effort and he became content to watch the banks sliding by and to half hear the chatter of the boatmen. Idly he counted them again. Four, including Gopal Das. No, five—there was one up in the bow, who had only one eye.
"Baja Rao!" he called sternly. "What here do you?"
Coming aft, the Maratha salaamed. "Sahib, I am your slave and I pray you'll not turn me away."
"Why are you here? I need no more servants."
"Twice Born, I am your slave, not your servant. You are a warrior; you saved my life, I, too, am a warrior; I am grateful. I must be with you till I've saved your life in return."
"Who knows when I may be in danger?" Ram countered. "Perhaps back at the fort. And there you cannot go."
A grin exposed pan-darkened teeth. "Then I must save you elsewhere. Sahib, you've seen far lands. Would the Twice Born tell of his battles, of how Feringis make war?"
Ram laughed. Here was an engaging rogue! "What interest is it to you how Europeans fight?" So Ritter was right; the fellow was a spy, sent to examine the fort and Austrian tactics.
"Sahib, I too come from afar. Though I'm Maratha born, I am of true Rajput descent, and Rajputs are the greatest warriors in all Hind. We alone held out against the Moslems and fought them so hard they were forced to make alliances with us, to take some of our women to become their princesses and mother their sons."
"Go on," Ram nodded, intrigued.
"You've heard, lord, of the mighty Sivaji, who wrested central India from the Great Mogul, scarce forty years since?"
Ram shook his head.
"Sivaji Rao Bhonsla, King of the Marathas," Baja said softly. "My father was from his loins by his fifth wife, Lakhsmibai." His good eye flashed. "He was a great hero. I am his son's son."
"Yet you served us as a simple sepoy."
Baja smiled. "Lord, tell me of the battles beyond the Black Water."
Ram began telling of Belgrade, Malplaquet and other fights. Often the Maratha interrupted with shrewd questions. "Arrc, these are brave tales! Here we see only a few of your well-trained soldiers, yet you speak of countless thousands, with hundreds of guns. By Vishnu, if I commanded a single thousand such men, I would carve out an empire!" He salaamed. "Lord, forgive me, I have held you too long in talk." He returned forward, leaving Ram to ponder why this strange native had thrust himself upon him.
Calcutta was reached, with two great ships and many smaller craft anchored off it. The dhow tied to the wharf and, with Gopal Das following, Ram landed. After Bankipur, here was a metropolis. There was great bustle, with sweating coolies loading and unloading cargoes, and sallow-faced English writers tallying the loads. Reaching Fort William, he asked for Machin and was directed through the Water Gate and to the Welshman's bungalow. There, a servant was sent for its owner. Machin arrived and whooped.
" 'Strewth, the Austrian! How do ye, man? What brings ye here?"
"Leave," Ram grinned. " 'Tis cursed dull upriver, so I got permission to come away awhile."
"You must have a damned easy commander, look you. Old Red-Belly Rale's not so accommodating. You'd think the nawab, the French, Dutch and even you Austrians were about to attack us, the way he keeps us on duty. Well, you must be hungry. Let's have tiffin."
"Here's to add to it." Ram had Gopal Das open the packages. "Tokay—remember? Cheeses, Vienna sausage and Holland schnapps."
Ned's eyes bulged. "Lucullan, ecod! You Ostend gentlemen must be rolling in wealth."
"We do well enough." Actually, Hume had provided these choice things—as bait.
"Praises be, I'm off duty tonight," Ned gloated. "Let's eat little now and I'll have some fellows in to dine on your gifts."
The dinner was boisterous, with Ensigns Jory and Haslow, and writers Tomson, Burrows and McNeil as guests. All wanted to hear about the new company, the three writers licking their lips upon learning that even its private soldiers were permitted private trading.
"Damme, why did I yearn for a red coat?" Ned groaned, after the third round of Tokay. "Were I on the trading side, I'd be away to Bankipur tomorrow,"
"Aye, but the Act," Burrows frowned. "I've a father who'd take it unkindly if his son were branded a traitor."
"The Board of Governors sit on their fat arses, petitioning Parliament every time foreigners threaten their profits," Ned sneered. "If I understood trade, I'd be off to where money's to be made."
McNeil half agreed, but the rest shied away, saying that even if one did acquire wealth with a foreign rival, the governors would see to it that one could never enjoy spending it back home.
Though realizing their dilemma. Ram decided to speak privately with McNeil. As for Ned, Hume could make him a trader in time.
"Damme, Harry, ye've let the bottle sleep at your elbow!" Ned hiccuped. "Lookee, man, pass it on. This talk makes dry throats. If Fred Morgan were here, he'd keep it moving.
"Fred Morgan?" Ram queried. "Soldier or writer?"
"Ensign. On detachment at Falta. Best fellow in the world to drink with. Now, ye gutless Saxons, here's to my own dear land, where we fear no English, not even the governors of the H.E.I.C.!" Ned began the stirring Rhyfelgyrch gwyr Harlech. The rest joined in, though in English, and no one left until the liquor had gone.
Ram awakened to a world of pain. Gradually he remembered Ned helping him to bed while bellowing another of his wild Welsh songs.
" 'Strewth, what a night," the ensign greeted hollowly. "And I'm Officer of the Day. Damme, my head's like a melon and my belly's filled with a thousand devils. Your Tokay's potent, look you."
"More likely the schnapps." Ram shuddered at the proffered food. "Have you a nag I can ride to shake off my aches?"
"I've a tattoo you're welcome to. We poor sots can't afford Arabs like you." Ned grimaced. "I'm off to inspect the guard."
Ram looked out at the shimmering heat and the prospect of riding palled. "Lookee, instead I'll drop down and meet Fred Morgan and be back when you're off duty tomorrow."
"As you will. 'Twill be cooler on the river." Machin buckled on his sword. "Lud, I feel like I've taken a dozen purges." He went out, squaring his shoulders.
Sending Gopal Das to ready the boatmen, Ram sat on the veranda hoping his head would shrink to normal. Hoofs clattered and a man swore: "Damme, the renegade! What brings you spying?" Rale was glaring down at him from a curvetting chestnut. "Where's that jackanapes Welshman of mine? He should be on parade."
Ram said coldly that Machin had already left, that he himself was on leave and traveling by dhow.
"Then travel! Only your uniform saves you from arrest. The company don't tolerate Britons who serve against it."
Ram managed to remain cool, even diplomatic. "Whenever you're upriver, sir, you'll be welcome at Bankipur. We'd feel honored."
"If I do, 'twill be sword in hand." Rale spurred away.
Restraint having made his head worse. Ram went to the dhow. He had had qualms about coming to tempt men away, but not now!
It was cooler on the river and, lying on his cot, he felt his pain subsiding into a mere bilious headache.
"Lord." Baja squatted beside him, holding a drinking gourd. "Drink and the pain will go."
"What do you know of my pain?"
"Lord, I too have met the dawn with an aching head."
The concoction tasted acrid, but soon his headache had gone.
Baja, watching, nodded. "Arre, lord. Fort William is strong," he chuckled slyly. "But only from the river. Inland, it is so weak, two hundred well-led men could take it."
"You've lost no time."
"True, for I must learn why so few Feringis can seem so strong. When we of Hind fight, we lead many thousands, with war elephants and great guns, yet often we are defeated. Why, Twice Born?"
"Discipline." Irritated, Ram turned away.
Baja changed tactics. "Sahib, when the big ship comes, it's said you'll send gumlac. Add opium and you'll have great profit."
"Is there nothing you don't know about me?"
"Am I not your slave, lord? Five duppas of opium, each of ten seers' weight, are available for the Twice Born."
Over loo pounds of the stuff—worth a small fortune! Ram was startled, but wary. "I haven't enough gold to pay for it."
"Who spoke of paying, sahib? When the ship brings back your profit will be time to speak of payment." Then abruptly Baja salaamed, saying, "The sahib is weary and would sleep," and left.
Ram tried to puzzle out a reason for this offer, but the strange drink had relaxed him and he slept until Gopal Das awakened him to say the dhow was tying up at the Falta wharf.
Fred Morgan was square built, dark and in his early twenties. Just over a bout of fever, he welcomed Ram as a brother. The sole officer at Falta, he was acutely bored, but when his guest produced Tokay and schnapps, his spirits rebounded and soon he was envying anyone who could afford such potables. This time Ram drank sparingly, but plied the other with both drink and food for thought.
"My father got me an H.E.I.C. commission so I could make a fortune," Morgan repined, "but how the devil can a redcoat get loot when there's no war? Wish I could turn trader."
"You can." But before Ram could make sure of his man, a sepoy brought news that a strange ship was coming upriver, so Morgan hastened off to report to the port master. This could be an enemy.
"La Paix, out of Ostend," he said on his return. "Not anchoring."
Ram jumped up. "One of ours. I must go aboard. There'll be letters and news. You'll come with me?"
"Can't. Rivals, you know. Bowing and scraping, but ready to be at your throats. But I can't stop you going."
"Thankee. Perhaps later you won't think we're rivals." A dinghee took Ram off to intercept La Paix, aboard which he was met by the master, who presented three new writers for Bankipur.
"Lieutenant, this is a surprise!"
It was his own captain, Ernst von Bruck, from Coblom.
"A surprise for us both," the big man amended. "I'm on my way to learn how you and Ritter fare. What brings you down here?" Catching Ram's wink, he added: "Come below. Gentlemen, you'll excuse us?" Once in his cabin, he asked: "Well, youngling?" When he heard of Hume's plan, he laughed. "Cutthroat work, eh? It's the same with us. We've already lured away some British, Dutch and
French." He added that La Paix, having made a quick round trip from Coblom to Ostend and back, was now bound for Bankipur for additional cargo. "L'Esperance should be back in a month or so. The Prince is well pleased with us. Now, is your mission completed?"