The Far Horizon (3 page)

‘Elizabeth, you are worrying unnecessarily,’ George said finally. ‘It is all in the past now. Lachlan loved Jane then. He loves you now. That is all you need to think of.’

‘I feel…’ Elizabeth took a deep breath, ‘that in India it would all come back to him. The life he had with her there. All the memories would come back to him, and
she
would come back to him … not physically of course … but in a
spiritual
way. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’ George’s vision was focused on some pink flowers growing at the far edge of the garden. ‘But I think you are wrong in your thoughts, and worrying without cause.’

‘Then help me to understand, George. You know him better than anyone, even better than I do, because you know his past, you were
there!
So why am I wrong, George? Why am I worrying without cause?’

George was still gazing at the flowers. ‘Because Lachlan will never go back to India. Not even if the Army commands it. He would resign his commission if they insisted.’

‘What?’ A rush of colour came into her cheeks. ‘How do you know this, George?’

‘He told me.’

‘Told you?’ Elizabeth frowned in puzzlement. ‘When did he tell you? You were not here this morning when the dispatch was delivered, and he had left by the time you returned.’

‘He told me, some weeks before his marriage to you,’ George said quietly. ‘It was a decision he had already made. He knew you were his future, and India was his past. He knew the two could never be combined.’

Elizabeth sat back, as if a ton weight had been lifted off her lap, the relief making her smile happily and look lovely again. ‘Oh, George, my instincts were right, I just
knew
I should speak to you first, I just
knew
you would be honest with me.’

George smiled at her, but there was sadness in his eyes and in his heart. He also would probably never go back to India, but his young mother was buried there, aged only twenty-two when she had died, and because of that India would forever be his motherland.

Chapter Three

‘Was it you who put my name forward?’

‘No, it was nothing to do with me. I don’t enjoy such influence with the High Command.’ General Balfour sulkily thrust out his bottom lip. ‘I believe the culprit was Arthur Wellesley … or as he is now called, the Duke of Wellington.’

‘Wellesley?’ said Lachlan, surprised. ‘Wellesley recommended me for this?’

‘You served with him in India, didn’t you, same as me. You know that his brother has now been appointed as the Viceroy over there? Oh yes.’ Balfour sulked for a second longer. ‘And I believe your name was also put forward by General John Moore. You served with him in America I believe?’

Lachlan nodded. ‘We were lieutenants together in Canada and New York.’

‘He’s just been knighted, Moore, did you know that? Anyway, between the two of them, the Duke of Wellington and General Sir John Moore, they have persuaded the Commander-in-Chief that you are the best man for the job.’

‘I wish one of them had had the courtesy to consult with me first,’ Lachlan said through gritted teeth. He couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t believe it. ‘I mean …’ he said with a puzzled frown, ‘why would either of them think I would even
accept
a posting such as this?’

General Balfour looked sympathetically at the fair tall man standing by the fireplace in absolute shock, and who wouldn’t be in a state of shock in his position? This was a posting for an old sea dog, like all the other old sea dogs – not for a man still in his prime – and definitely not for a professional soldier like Lachlan Macquarie.

Balfour had known Lachlan since he was a young lieutenant just arrived in India, and he a colonel, his commanding officer. Even back then there was something about the young man that Balfour had instantly liked, and through the years and many campaigns their personal friendship had grown into something akin to uncle and nephew. Macquarie had a natural intelligence lacking in so many of the other young officers, young popinjays who had used their family’s wealth and influence to buy their gold-braided uniforms and positions, unlike Macquarie who had arrived in India without a penny and had
earned
every one of his promotions.

And then there was that terrible situation with Jane … that had crushed him, almost destroyed him, but in time the steel had returned to his resolve and he was back in the game, leading his men across the Egyptian desert to the Nile to join the rest of the British troops in a battle with the French at Alexandria.

Lachlan said irritably. ‘The Duke of York – ’

‘Is our Commander-in-Chief,’ General Balfour reminded him tersely. ‘And although he is not a soldier – not in any real sense of the word – the Duke of Wellington most definitely
is
a true soldier, as is General John Moore. And if both of these fine men have recommended you to the King, then – ’

‘The King!’ Lachlan’s shock was now turning into fury. ‘But why would they do that? Without consulting with me first? And why
me
anyway? I’m not a politician, I’m simply a
soldier
for goodness sake!’

‘Yes, and that’s why they need someone like you now, because it is the
soldiers
over there who have been causing all the trouble.’

Balfour prised himself out of his chair and grunted. ‘Let’s have a drink and discuss this some more. I know by rights I should be feeling proud of you, my boy … all these top brass recommendations … but if you accept the post I shall be very sorry to see you go.’

After an hour of discussing it in more detail, Balfour concluded, ‘Well, if nothing else, one fact still cheers me. If you
do
accept the post, you’ll be back in two years. No one ever stays there for long … it’s a rotten place by all accounts. And it’s a job for a strong man, a tough man. Are you that tough, Macquarie?’

Lachlan shrugged. It mattered not whether he was tough enough or not, because he had no intention of accepting the posting, he would resign his commission first.

‘Well, dear boy, are you?’ Balfour persisted. ‘Tough enough to go to Hell and back in service of your king and country?’

Lachlan shrugged again, disinterested, and lifting his cloak to leave. ‘What do you think, sir?’

‘I think you’re a splendid soldier and a fine man,’ Balfour admitted. ‘But that’s all I have to say now. In the end, of course, the decision must be yours.’

*

When Lachlan returned home, Elizabeth was anxiously waiting for him at the front door.

‘The dispatch – was it about a new posting? It was, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘To India?’

‘No, but India would be like Heaven in comparison.’

‘To where?’ she demanded. ‘In comparison to where?’

Inside the parlour Lachlan made Elizabeth sit down and then explained the contents of the dispatch to her, and the reasons behind it, in the same way Balfour had explained it to him.

‘As heads of the Army and the Navy, the Duke of York and his brother the Duke of Clarence are both in a state of great alarm due to a mutiny that has taken place in the British Colony of New South Wales, deposing the Governor, William Bligh.’

‘New South Wales?’

‘A mutiny by the soldiers of the New South Wales Corps,’ Lachlan continued.

New South Wales … where on earth was that? Elizabeth wondered, but managed to keep silent while he went on.

‘The news of the mutiny has shocked the Admiralty; this being the second that Captain Bligh has suffered. First the mutiny on
HMS Bounty
, and now another mutiny in New South Wales.

‘They want Bligh replaced, and quickly.’

‘By you?’

‘It seems so. From what Balfour said, the Duke of York and his brother have decided that the custom of New South Wales being ruled by a succession of naval captains has become inappropriate for a place controlled solely by the military. The new Viceroy, therefore, should not be a naval commodore, but a military commander.’

Elizabeth stared at him. `And they want
you –
as Viceroy?’

‘To be the new Governor-General.’

‘But Lachlan …’ Elizabeth had to stand up and walk around; this was all so unexpected. ‘First tell me …
where
is this New South Wales – is it in Wales?’

‘No, my love, it’s somewhere on the other side of the world.’

Lachlan stood up and paused for a time to stare out of the window at the greenness of his own Scotland, still unable to believe that he had been asked to fill such a post.

He turned back to Elizabeth and gave her a wry smile as he said, ‘You might have heard of the place by another name – Botany Bay.’

‘Botany Bay?’ No, Elizabeth had never heard of it … and then suddenly it came to her. ‘You mean, that place … where they are sending all the criminals?’

‘Yes, a penal settlement, a
convict
colony – so why would I, an active and serving
soldier,
want to go to a place like that? No more than I can understand why Arthur Wellesley and John Moore recommended me!’

‘Wellesley?’ Elizabeth had to sit down again. ‘The Duke of Wellington recommended you?’

‘Yes – sour-face himself and John Moore. So while those two are over on the continent living the life of soldiers and
fighting
Napoleon and the French
– they are sending dispatches to the Duke of York saying I am the man who should be sent out to that dump-hole to oversee a crowd of stinking felons and bring a regiment of bad soldiers back into line! Look at me – do I look that old and decrepit? Do I look like my soldiering days are over?’

Elizabeth looked at her beloved husband with tears shimmering in her eyes. To her, he was the most wonderful man in the world, active and strong and full of energy … and yes, she could fully understand his bitter feelings of betrayal against his two former friends. Why had they done it?

Lachlan’s anger was consuming him to a point that he had to walk out of the room, out of the house, and then mounted his horse and rode straight back to General Balfour.

‘It’s because they were
asked
in dispatches from the
Duke of York
to recommend a good man who would be up to the job,’ Balfour explained. ‘London doesn’t care a jot about the convicts – it’s the
soldiers
out
there
that need controlling. What London wants is a good officer who, unlike Captain Bligh, knows how to command the respect of his men, but also – a man who would also be able to command the respect of the civilian colonists as well.’

‘I’ll not go,’ Lachlan said firmly. ‘I’ll resign first. My regiment is the 73
rd
and I’ll not exchange them for a bunch of mutineers.’

‘You wouldn’t have to exchange them,’ Balfour said, lifting a dispatch from his desk. ‘This came about an hour ago, just after you had left … It seems that London has anticipated your refusal and your reluctance to leave your own regiment … and so they have sent this urgent dispatch informing me that they have decided to send the entire 73
rd
regiment out there with you.’

‘What?’

‘It makes sense, I suppose, now the New South Wales Corps have proved themselves to be unfit for the task. And remember, dear boy, not only would you be accompanied by your own men, you would all only be out there for about two years, quite a short posting really.’

‘Oh, this is unbelievable …’ Lachlan was about to turn away and leave, and then stopped … this latest news just beginning to sink in.

‘So,’ he said, turning back to General Balfour, ‘if they are preparing to send out the entire 73
rd
, then …’ he smiled self deprecatingly, ‘well I’m just a colonel – but as commander of the regiment that means
you
are now being posted out there too.’

‘I certainly am not!’ Balfour exclaimed, his personal anger only now beginning to show. ‘London is not going to succeed in getting
me
out to that hell-hole on the other side of nowhere – not even for two years – and I have just sent a dispatch to the Commander-in-Chief informing him of that fact. I’ll take my pension instead.’

Still holding the dispatch from London, Balfour crushed the paper in his hand and then flung it into the waste-paper basket.

‘And remember, Macquarie,’ he said huffily, ‘it’s
you
they have chosen to be their new Viceroy, not me!’

Chapter Four

When Lachlan returned home Elizabeth had gone out for a walk.

‘Aye an’ a
long
walk it’s been,’ Mrs Burgess said, ‘I expected her back along before this. An’ young Mister George has been looking for ye. He came asking me a few times if ye were back yet.’

‘Where is George?’

‘He’s out in the back yard, filling a bucket of water from the pump for me.’

George had his shirt sleeves rolled up and had just filled the pail when Lachlan approached him.

‘Helping the servants again I see,’ said Lachlan.

George shrugged a grin. ‘I’m not as proud and aloof as they say I am.’

‘Were you looking for me for any reason in particular?’

George straightened and began to roll down his sleeves. ‘Yes, I have made a decision about my future.’

‘A decision?’ Lachlan felt a stab of alarm. ‘Which is?’

George stood thoughtful for a moment, and then looked around him.

‘Let us walk down to the field,’ he suggested, ‘away from the house, so our conversation is not broken by interruptions.’

They strolled down to the field in silence, and when they reached it, they rested their forearms on the gate together and Lachlan waited for George to speak.

‘My life,’ George said quietly, ‘has got to change. I am no longer the small boy you rescued from the slave trade. I am a man now, and I want to act like a man, and live like a man.’

Lachlan frowned, perplexed.

‘Your generosity, I cannot live on it anymore, take it from you anymore,’ George explained. ‘It’s time for me to make my own way in this world, and earn my own living.’

Could this day get any worse, Lachlan wondered, and once again a sensation of impending loss swept over him. First his daughter … and now George … no father could love a son the way he loved George.

‘Yes … well, your education will open many doors and opportunities for you.’

George smiled in amusement. ‘My education started long before I entered any classroom in London or Edinburgh. That was just a long study of books. My real education came from the life I lived in India with you and the sahibs in the British army.’

Lachlan thought back and realised that George was right. From a boy he had lived his young life amongst hardened British soldiers. Always at Lachlan’s side on campaigns, he had marched with them, joked with them, and had even suffered with them all through the long march across the desert from Suez to the Nile. And when the thirst became unbearable in the cruel dry heat of that desert, George had even helped the soldiers by teaching them a trick he had learned from his Arabic mother.

Those soldiers in the 77
th
had loved George Jarvis, loved his laughter and good humour and repaid him by teaching him how to fight, and fight hard, in self-defence. And truth to tell, by the time they had returned from Egypt, George had changed from a boy into a hardened and strong young soldier himself.

No wonder he had found the physically lazy and soft life of college classrooms so difficult to tolerate.

‘But you did well at college,’ Lachlan said. ‘You excelled in all your studies. And now that you are no longer forced to read books, I notice, since leaving college you spend a lot of your time doing just that – reading books.’

George laughed. ’Now I read books for pleasure not for exams. Books of my own choosing.’

‘So what is this decision you have made … about your future?’

George Jarvis did not answer for a while. Stars were appearing in the sky and the air was getting cooler.

‘I want to be a soldier.’

‘What?’

‘A serving soldier.’ George turned and looked at Lachlan, his dark eyes very serious. ‘In your regiment, the 73
rd
.’

‘The 73
rd
…’ Lachlan made a sound like a groan and bowed his head over his forearms on the gate. ‘No, George, no … one regiment I cannot allow you to serve in, is the 73
rd
.’

‘Why?’

‘Because, in a few weeks time, the entire 73
rd
regiment is being posted down to Botany Bay.”

‘Botany Bay?’ George’s interest quickened. ‘Where is that?’

‘Some place south of Hell.’