The Gallant (39 page)

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Authors: William Stuart Long

Tags: #Fiction, #General

“Brigadier General Havelock was sent for posthaste from Persia,” Birch went on, “but he was delayed by a shipwreck-fortunately without serious loss-and arrived here only three weeks ago. He left for Allahabad on the

twenty-fifth of June. Since then we have been informed by the electric telegraph that Lucknow is under siege … and Havelock has but two European regiments-less than two thousand men-with which to

relieve both Cawnpore and Lucknow. And, as I said, Colonel Neill’s advance force has not yet reached Cawnpore.”

The catalogue of woe continued, Birch holding out little hope. Red was shocked to hear that General Anson, the commander in chief, had died of cholera while on his way to Delhi with the hurriedly formed field force from Ambala.

“Frankly, gentlemen,” Birch admitted with a sigh, “until Delhi is once more in our hands, I fear that this insurrection will spread throughout the length and breadth of the province. Even Calcutta may come under attack, unless we can obtain substantial reinforcements in very short order.”

He talked on, with unconcealed despair, as much to himself as to his two silent listeners, and then, with a sudden, unexpected change of tone, he turned to Red with a crisply voiced question as to his orders.

“I was under orders from Their Lordships to proceed to China, sir, to join Admiral Seymour’s flag in Hong Kong,” Red told him flatly. “My orders have not been changed, but-was “But Governor Blundell took it on his own authority to send you here with Captain Maclaren’s detachment?” Colonel Birch put in.

“His Excellency based his decision on the recent consultation he had with Lord Elgin, sir, who left for China on board the

Shannon

just before I made port in Singapore. He informed me, sir, that in view of Lord Elgin’s parting instructions, he believed himself justified in ordering me to convey Captain Maclaren’s detachment to your aid.”

Colonel Birch nodded vigorously in

approval. “The governor general has been in touch with Lord Elgin, Captain Broome. The latest information we have had is that he is to come here in person, on board the

Shannon,

and accompanied by two other naval vessels with a contingent of royal marines to reinforce the defenses of this city. We anticipate his most welcome arrival within the next three

weeks-sooner, God willing, if that is possible.

The war with China would seem to be in a state of stalemate, and for that praise be to heaven, since it will mean that some of our reinforcements will be troops diverted here from that theater. In view of which-was Birch paused, eyeing Red pensively. “It is not improbable that, when His Excellency William Stuart Long

the governor general returns, he may follow Governor Blundell’s example and decide to commandeer your vessel. A fast frigate, Captain Broome, would be of inestimable value to us at this crucial time, particularly as a means of conveying troops here from Madras. I take it, Captain, that your frigate is fit to put to sea if required?”

Red inclined his head. “I shall need water, sir, and some fresh provisions. Once these are loaded and Captain Maclaren’s detachment has disembarked-was He was interrupted by a staff officer in infantry uniform, who burst into the office, white of face and clearly agitated. “Colonel,” he announced without preamble, “a message has just come through on the telegraph from Allahabad. It’s from

General Havelock, sir, and I’m afraid it’s very bad news.” He thrust a sheet of paper into the military secretary’s hand, and Colonel Birch, after studying it for a moment, read the message aloud, his voice harsh with strain.

was “A report of the fall of Cawnpore received from Lawrence but is not believed by the authorities here. A steamer with a hundred Europeans armed with Minie rifles and two six-pounders starts tomorrow to endeavor to relieve Wheeler.” That is the first message, gentlemen. But the second, sent at dawn this morning, is indeed the most tragic news.” He swallowed hard, and, Red saw, his hand was trembling visibly as he held up the sheet of paper to the light from the shuttered window at his back.

was The news of the entire destruction of the Cawnpore garrison confirmed by messenger, who, carrying letters from Lucknow to Allahabad, witnessed an act of treachery, resulting in a massacre of … all defenders.” This—God in heaven, this is appalling! I-I-was Birch recovered his composure and turned to the officer who had brought him the telegraph. “John, this must be given to His Excellency without delay.”

“They’ve not returned yet, sir. I

thought-was

“Don’t think, man-send a mounted orderly to meet him. No, better still, go yourself. They must be nearing the city-H.e. has a dinner party tonight.

He said he would not be late. He-was The clatter of hooves from the driveway below sent Birch and his staff officer rushing to the window. Drawing back the shutter, the military secretary exclaimed in relief, “His Ex

cellency

is here! Excuse me, gentlemen, I must go to him at once.”

Both officers vanished, and Red, left standing there, looked at Fergus Maclaren. He noticed, without surprise, that the engineer captain’s eyes were filled with tears.

“What did the colonel say?” Maclaren managed wretchedly. “A thousand of our countrymen-our countrymen and

women,

Broome-massacred by that treacherous swine the Nana of Bithur! When I think of them, when I see their faces, I-God, I am sickened. Poor,

bloody old Wheeler and his daughters! I used to dance with Amelia. …”

Red put an arm about the younger man’s shoulder, moved by his grief. What, he wondered dully, was the situation now in Ranpur? were Jenny and Will even now in the same danger of betrayal and mutiny as those poor souls who had died so hideously in Cawnpore? Or had they, perhaps, reached Lucknow, where Sir Henry Lawrence had made preparations to resist a siege? But Lucknow was under siege, Colonel Birch had said. Under siege but still able to send messengers to Allahabad, andwitha British regiment, the Queen’s 32nd, to fight in its defense.

“Merciful God,”

Red prayed silently,

“spare my beloved little sister and her husband. I beseech Thee to keep them safe from harm. In -

in Lucknow, if it be Thy will.”

Fergus Maclaren got heavily to his feet, and Red said decisively, “We’ll go back to the ship, Maclaren, and arrange to disembark your men. And I’ll have to break the bad news to my first lieutenant. In any case, we won’t be wanted here while this crisis is on. If the governor general bids us to dine, we can come back.”

“Yes,” the engineer officer agreed. “Sitting here and just thinking about it would be more than I could stomach!

By heaven, though, I hope we can be on our way upcountry without delay! I have a burning desire to hit back at the treacherous devils who turned on those poor, unhappy souls in General Wheeler’s entrenchment. Death is what a soldier faces, but to make war on women and children puts the Nana and his mutinous sepoys beyond the pale! I’ll gladly give my life to avenge their martyrdom, and count it well spent.”

 

William Stuart Long

“I envy you,” Red confessed wryly. “Since all I can do is command a troop transport.

But-let’s be on our way, shall we?”

They were met in the great, echoing hall by the young aide who had summoned them to Government House.

“I’m to escort you back to your ship, sir,” he told Red. “And to tell you that His Excellency cordially invites you to dine here this evening, when he will receive you in private after the meal. The invitation does not include Captain Maclaren-Colonel Birch, sir, is putting your orders in hand,” he added, addressing Maclaren. “You may expect transport to the railhead for yourself and your detachment within a matter of hours. You will be given the first priority, the colonel says, sir, to carry you to your destination with all possible expedition.”

Maclaren’s expression relaxed. “And what is my destination, sir?” he asked quietly.

“Lahonda, sir,” the young aide answered readily, and Red saw that his companion was smiling.

“I could ask for no more,” he exclaimed. “By God I could not!” With sudden impatience he grasped Red’s arm and hurried him to the waiting carriage.

Dinner, that evening, was in the nature of a banquet, and Red was faintly shocked by the pomp and ceremony of the occasion, which far outshone any similar occasion he had experienced in Sydney’s Government House.

The guests numbered close on a hundred-wealthy, elegantly attired civilians, the women bedecked with jewels, the men in white ties and tailcoats, and the military in a variety of uniforms, from the scarlet of the Queen’s regiments to the magnificent gold-and-silver-laced blues, greens, and grays of the East India Company’s colonial levies, almost outlandish in their splendor and the seeming arrogance of their bearing. Red felt comparatively sober in his naval full dress, and saw only two others like him, both junior officers of the Company’s marine.

The governor general and his handsome, vivacious wife received their guests in the ballroom, responding courteously to the bows and low curtsies as the long line progressed slowly in front of them, each guest announced by name and in stentorian tones by a majordomo in a splendid livery of scarlet and gold. Beside them on the low dais was a tall, bewhiskered figure in the blue and silver of the Madras Presidency Army, his tunic ablaze with stars and orders. Red identified him as General Sir Patrick Grant, lately summoned to the capital of Bengal from his own command to act as commander in chief.

To the music of a military string orchestra, the guests passed beneath glittering chandeliers into a vast banqueting hall, its tables set with gold and silver plate, and an army of liveried Indian servants lined up against the picture-hung walls, waiting to serve the meal.

For Red, despite the excellence and variety of the food and wine set before him, the dinner was a strain on his nerves and patience. His neighbors were civilians, two married couples of the wealthy merchant class, who, after one or two probing questions aimed at ascertaining his rank and social standing, talked among themselves of matters so far from his ken that he found himself virtually excluded from their conversation. They wasted few words on the events following the sepoy mutiny-clearly the news of the fall of Cawnpore and the massacre of its defenders had not yet been made public-and the siege of Lucknow seemed not to concern them. The rebels” seizure of Delhi was dismissed in a brief “condemnation of the evident unpreparedness of the Meerut command and the admission that the disaster could have far-reaching effects unless the governor general took firm action and the military bestirred themselves.

To Red’s shocked surprise, they did not appear aware of any threat to Calcutta, the younger of the two gentlemen declaring, with some annoyance, that he had offered his services to the recently formed militia and been refused a commission.

“For the Lord’s sweet sake, Henry,” he informed his older counterpart, “the idiots made one of my clerks a damned lieutenant, on the strength of his having served for six months in some yeomanry regiment in Yorkshire! I couldn’t put myself in a position where I’d have to take orders from him,

could I? So I let them have a brace of my polo ponies and bowed out. I just hope I get the ponies back undamaged, when the scare’s over.”

“Do you think it

will

soon be over, Charlie?” one of the elegantly dressed ladies asked, a note of displeasure in her voice.

 

William Stuart Long

“It’s disrupting things so. I’ve even heard that H.e. wants to cancel the evening band concerts, so that he can send the bandsmen to swell the garrison in Benares! As if fiddlers and horn players would be of the smallest use as fighting men!”

“It will all fizzle out,” the man she had addressed as Charlie declared assertively, “if Sir Patrick Grant takes decisive action and demands that the European troops we need are sent here. They’re not required in Burma or Persia anymore, or in China either, come to that. And the Punjab’s quiet, with the Sikhs ready to fight for us. But for God’s sake, what use is a commander in chief who skulks here, in Lord Canning’s pocket? He should be off upcountry, commanding the damned troops!”

“We should send the navy,” his wife put in, glancing archly at Red. “A naval brigade, with ship’s guns and brave bluejackets to fire them.

They could be sent up by river, couldn’t they? I’m sure, Captain-er-I’m afraid I did not catch your name-I’m sure that you and your splendid sailors would be willing to volunteer, would you not?”

Lost for words with which to reply, Red inclined his head stiffly, his hackles rising.

But at last the dinner came to an end; the guests rose and were ushered back into the ballroom, whence came the muted sounds of music as the band struck up a lively waltz and a flock of dancers took the floor.

“Captain Broome-was Attired in mess kit, with an impressive row of medals pinned to his tunic, Colonel Birch was at his side, and Red turned to him in relief. “His Excellency will see you now,” the older man said, smiling. “If you’ll come with me. His lordship will only be able to spare you a few minutes-he’s expected in the ballroom, you understand, and his absence would cause comment. At all costs, we have, to keep up the appearance of calm, because the last thing we want here is a panic. And when the newspapers publish the terrible news about Cawnpore, it could well cause a panic. Certainly it will bring the dangers of the present situation home to a great many people who hitherto have had little inkling of its gravity.”

Like his dinner partners, Red thought cynically, visualizing the effect such appalling news would have on the woman who had bemoaned the cessation of the nightly band concerts on

Calcutta’s Maidan. He followed Birch without comment and found himself in a small anteroom, where the governor general was waiting, General Grant at his side. He was struck, as the colonel made the necessary introductions, by the strained expressions on both men’s faces. Lord Canning was, as nearly as he could judge, comparatively young for the position he held-in his mid-forties, perhaps …

certainly little older-although his dark hair was receding and the neat black beard he wore was flecked with gray. His eyes, as they met Red’s, held an infinite weariness, but his voice, in contradiction, was brisk and incisive.

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