Guns to the Far East (10 page)

Elsewhere in India, after a brief period of uncertainty, the pattern was being repeated, as regiment after regiment throughout the Bengal Presidency broke out in open revolt. There were fears now for Allahabad and Benares, as well as for Lucknow and Cawnpore, and troops sent to their relief were being delayed by lack of transport and supplies, and by the need to put down uprisings in towns and villages along their route.

“India is denuded of European troops,” Phillip heard his host say gravely. “My information is that there are fewer than forty thousand in the whole country, including the Company's regiments—and the sepoys in the three Presidency armies number over three hundred thousand, with most of the artillery in their hands. So far, I understand, the Madras and Bombay armies have remained loyal, for which we can only thank God … and pray that the Sikhs follow their example, because if the Punjab rises, India will be lost.” He spread his hands in a despairing gesture. “The lives of thousands of our countrymen—and of their wives and families—are at stake, I fear. In view of which, our war here will have to take second place, so far as demands for troops and supplies are concerned … India must come first. Even if we lose face as a result of our failure to attack and occupy Canton, this need not, in the long run, have any serious effect on our position here. The Chinese are accustomed to prolonged negotiation and endless discussion and bargaining, it's the breath of life to them. We've proved we
can
enter the city and, thanks to the Royal Navy's brilliant actions at Fatshan and Escape Creeks, gentlemen”—he beamed at his three naval guests—“we control the Canton River. That, by itself, must have given Commissioner Yeh cause for thought; he's lost his fleet and with it more face than we're likely to lose, if operations have to be postponed.”

“Do you suppose, sir,” Lieutenant Beamish asked diffidently, “that Lord Elgin will agree to the troops he's been promised being diverted to India?”

“He's done so already, my dear boy,” his host assured him. “And with the full concurrence of General Ashburnham, I'm given to understand. He sent the troopship
Simoon
to Calcutta with the Fifth Regiment. They were in Singapore, waiting to come on here. But His Lordship will, I am sure, consult with your Admiral and with Sir John Bowring and Consul Parkes before reaching a final decision. He will find the merchants of Hong Kong behind him to a man if he decides to put India's very urgent claims before all others.”

“Have you heard whether there is a prospect of any naval ships being sent from here to Calcutta, sir?” Phillip enquired but, to his disappointment, the merchant shook his head.

“It is too early to say, my young friend. But—as an inspired guess only—I believe it possible that one or two may be sent, probably for a limited period, until the crisis is over. A warship or two in the Hoogly might be all that is required to ensure the safety of Calcutta.” He sighed, glancing across at a tall, grey-bearded man, who was also his guest but whose name Phillip had not caught when being introduced. “What's your opinion, Hamish?”

The stranger smiled. “It concurs with yours, Henry. We must act and act at once if we're not to lose India. Here we have plenty of time. If we take any more drastic action than we have already taken—entry into Canton or a blockade of the Peiho—it must be with the agreement and support of the other Treaty Powers. Since Baron de Gros is travelling via the Cape, he isn't likely to arrive until sometime in September and, in the meantime, de Bourboulon considers that he has no power to act on behalf of the French Government. The same applies to the Americans—Dr and Mrs Parker are making plans to return home, although his replacement as Plenipotentiary, Mr William Reed, has not yet left the United States or so he told me a few days ago. I would say, therefore, that we are in a position of stalemate for the next two or even three months, and for us to hold troops or ships here—when India is in desperate need of both—would be neither wise nor necessary.”

Henry Jardine extinguished his cigar and rose. “Let us join the ladies, shall we?” he suggested. “And endeavour to forget our troubles for a little while, at least. Our naval friends are here to recuperate … does a hand or two of Whist appeal to you, Commander Hazard? Or perhaps you would enjoy a little music … Mrs Chesterfield has promised to regale us with some songs from her repertoire and she has a truly fine voice.”

Phillip murmured a polite rejoinder but even the charms of Mr Jardine's three attractive daughters and the accomplished singing of Mrs Chesterfield failed to distract him from his own anxious thoughts. Next day he returned to Hong Kong, called at the naval Agent's for mail and coming away emptyhanded, hailed a rickshaw to take him to the waterfront, with the intention of going out to the
Shannon
's anchorage by sampan. One of the frigate's boats was, however, tied up at the quay and the midshipman in charge, a slim, good-looking youngster of sixteen or seventeen, after eyeing him uncertainly for a moment, saluted and greeted him by name.

“Are you seeking passage to the
Shannon,
sir?” he enquired.

Phillip returned his salute. “Yes,” he answered, “I am. But … you have the advantage of me, I'm afraid. Your name is … ?”

“Edward Daniels, sir.” The boy smiled. “I don't suppose you'll remember but we rode up to the Naval Brigade camp from Balaclava together a few days before the battle. And we met Lord Cardigan on his way back to his yacht for dinner— he was somewhat scathing about sailors on horseback and the quality of our mounts. I remember that because it rankled rather—I was proud of my pony. I'd just paid a fiver for it.”

The young mid on the white pony, Phillip recalled, who had talked of his fears and hopes, his opinion of the Army and then, in a burst of frankness, had admitted that he doubted his ability to live up to the high standard of courage and leadership set by his present Captain, William Peel, to whom he had then just been appointed as aide-de-camp. The overimaginative fourteen-year-old who had confessed, almost apologetically, that he hated to see men killed in battle but who—when the real test came during the abortive June assault on the Redan—had saved Peel's life under fire and been awarded the Victoria Cross for his gallantry. Edward St John Daniels had filled out and added several inches to his height but the same intelligent blue eyes met his and Phillip echoed the midshipman's smile and held out his hand, genuinely pleased to see him again.

“Good Lord—I hardly recognised you! But I remember you very well, Mr Daniels … and the illuminating conversation we had on our way to Kadikoi when, if my memory isn't at fault, we agreed that our Service was vastly superior to the Army. You had strong views on the subject—sparked off, I fancy by Lord Cardigan's appearance. You asked me, I think, how His Lordship could command a brigade of cavalry from a yacht.”

Daniels reddened. “I expressed my opinions rather too freely, sir. I was a bit damp behind the ears in those days and didn't know when to shut up. All the same”—his smile returned—“I
still
don't see how ‘The Noble Yachtsman'—that's what we used to call Lord Cardigan—managed to get away with it. He wouldn't have, in the Navy, would he, sir? I mean, sir, Captain Peel and Admiral Lushington
could
have lived aboard the
Diamond
in Balaclava Harbour if they'd had Cardigan's mentality but they didn't, of course—they roughed it in camp with the rest of us. And so did Commodore Keppel, when he took over command of the Naval Brigade.”

“True,” Phillip agreed. He nodded in the direction of the waiting boat. “Who have you come to collect, Mr Daniels?”

“Our First Lieutenant, Mr Vaughan, sir, and some of our other officers. Lord Elgin invited them to take luncheon with him on shore. We gave His Excellency passage from Singapore, as you probably know, and it was, well, a sort of return of hospitality. Captain Peel was invited also but he had to call on the Commander-in-Chief.”

“Then he's not on board? I was hoping to see him.”

“Oh, you will, sir,” Edward Daniels asserted. “I saw his gig leave the
Calcutta
ten minutes ago.” He consulted his pocket watch. “Our fellows shouldn't be long now and I'm sure the Captain will be delighted to see you, sir.” He hesitated and then gestured to Phillip's heavily bandaged arm. “Excuse my asking, Commander Hazard but—did you get that in the Fatshan boat action?”

“After it, to be strictly accurate,” Phillip admitted. He explained the circumstances and saw the midshipman's eyes widen in astonishment. “Good heavens! I never imagined anything like
that
happening. What a rum business and awfully bad luck—for you, I mean, sir. And to think we were kicking ourselves for missing Fatshan! There's nothing much going on up river now, I believe.”

“Not a great deal, they tell me, no.”

“We aren't likely to get there in any case,” Daniels said. “There's a rumour that we and possibly the
Pearl
will be ordered to Calcutta but—” He broke off, as half a dozen rickshaws came to a halt on the quay, to decant the same number of immaculately uniformed officers from their curtained interiors. “Here are our fellows at last, sir. I'll inform the First Lieutenant that you're here.” He performed the introductions punctiliously. “Lieutenant Vaughan, sir—Commander Hazard, late of the
Raleigh,
sir. Lieutenant Salmon—Lieutenant Lind of the Swedish Navy, sir, on attached service. Our Surgeon, Dr Flanagan. And Mr Garvey and Lord Arthur Clinton, messmates of mine.”

Vaughan was a tall, thin man of about his own age, Phillip observed, who gave him a firm and friendly handshake. Salmon was younger, fit and athletic, the Swedish officer a blond young giant with a humorous quirk to his mouth, and the surgeon—just as typical of his race as the Swede—the oldest of the six. Of the two midshipmen, Garvey was dark and well built, Clinton fair and frail, with almost effeminate good looks—a younger son, as Phillip later learnt, of no less a personage than the Duke of Newcastle.

They boarded the boat—Vaughan giving him precedence— the bowman cast off, and the crew gave way smartly together. During the ten-minute pull to the
Shannon
's anchorage, Lieutenant Vaughan questioned him minutely as to the present situation in the Canton River and the effect and nature of the recent actions there. Phillip did his best to answer the stream of questions, aware that the others were listening with equal interest and—on the part of Salmon and Lind—undisguised envy. Both had apparently served in the Baltic Fleet throughout the Russian War, where opportunities for action had been fewer and less glorious than in the Crimean theatre and Black Sea, and both looked frankly disappointed when Phillip repeated the gist of what his host of the previous evening had told him.

“Then it looks as if we shall be ordered to Calcutta,” Salmon said resignedly. “Not that it's likely to be any more exciting for us than this place. We'll be stuck in the Hoogly, I expect, defending Calcutta with the mere threat of our guns! We probably shan't even get ashore.”

“You think there really is a chance of your being sent to India?” Phillip asked Vaughan.

The First Lieutenant shrugged. “If there isn't going to be anything doing here for the next month or two, then it's certainly on the cards. Lord Elgin said at luncheon today that he's seriously considering the advisability of going there, in order to confer with Lord Canning and to see for himself how bad the situation is. From all accounts, it's pretty bad … and it could get a great deal worse. If His Excellency does decide to go, we shall take him.”

They were approaching the
Shannon
now and Phillip studied her with appreciative eyes as her First Lieutenant proudly listed her virtues. She had been built only two years previously, as the first of a new and very powerful class of steamscrew frigates, designed to obtain great speed under either steam or sail and to carry very heavy armament. Of 600 horsepower and 2,667 tons, she carried 51 guns, Lieutenant Vaughan stated—twenty 56 cwt. 32-pounders on the upper deck, one 95 cwt. 68-pounder on the forecastle, and thirty 65 cwt. 8-inch guns on the main deck.

“We've had twelve knots with the screw, Commander Hazard. And after we left Simon's Bay, in a strong nor'-westerly gale, under double reefed tops'ls, courses, and reefed foretopmast stuns'ls, she averaged between fourteen and fifteen knots. During one squall, when the log was hove, she was going at 15.8. Not bad, eh?”

“Not bad at all,” Phillip agreed. He thought nostalgically of the beautiful
Raleigh,
without steam-power, one of the last of her kind. Commodore Keppel had brought her out of Portsmouth Harbour under studding-sails, scorning the assistance of the tugs standing by to take her in tow, and she had made a record passage from South America to the Cape, averaging 275 miles a day for six days under sail alone. But now … He sighed and said nothing and, as Midshipman Daniels brought his boat alongside the
Shannon
's accommodation ladder, Lieutenant Vaughan asked courteously, “Is yours a social call, sir, or do you wish to see the Captain?”

“My call is on the Captain but he's not expecting me, Mr Vaughan, so perhaps you'll be so good as to ascertain if it is convenient to receive me.”

“I'm sure it will be, sir. But I'll ascertain of course. You knew him in the Crimea, didn't you?”

Phillip nodded. The First Lieutenant escorted him to the Captain's day cabin, knocked on the door and, being given permission to enter, opened the cabin door and announced him by name. “Go in, sir,” he invited. “Captain Peel says he'll be delighted to see you … Commander Hazard, sir, of the
Raleigh.
”

“Late of the
Raleigh,
to my sorrow, is it not, Phillip?” William Peel rose and came to meet him, his hand outstretched, He had changed little since Phillip had last seen him. At thirty, Peel had been the youngest Post-Captain in the Navy, with a brilliant record, which service with the Naval Brigade in the Crimea had enhanced. Now, at thirty-three, he still looked as youthful as he always had, a smile of singular warmth lighting his pale and rather austere face, as he ushered his guest to a chair and went to pour drinks for them both.