THE GENERALS

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘Hello, Kitty.’ Arthur nearly let himself smile, but stopped just in time. ‘I tried to find—’

  ‘How dare you?’ she interrupted harshly.

  ‘Kitty!’ Arthur took a step towards her, and she flinched as before a vile serpent.

  ‘Stay back, Arthur. I think I should be sick if you came any closer. In all the time I have known you I never once suspected that you could behave in such a low, calculating, ungentlemanly manner.There’s a good man, I told myself. Honest, charming and intelligent. Well, now you’ve made the stupidest, most wretched mistake of your life. To think that I loved you. That I wanted to marry you! The very thought makes my flesh creep. I . . .’ Her head lowered and she angrily cuffed away a tear. But it was not enough to stop the raw emotion pouring from her body and her shoulders shuddered as more tears came.

  Arthur looked at her, torn by the desire to go and comfort her, and knowing that she would be repelled by the act. He swallowed nervously. ‘Kitty, let me explain. Please.’

  She shook her head violently, quickly brushed her eyes and looked up at him defiantly. ‘What is there to explain, Arthur? I know everything. Most of all, I know how you have betrayed me and my family. I feel like such a fool not to have seen through you.’

  ‘There is nothing to see through, Kitty. I am the same Arthur as I ever was. The same man you once said you loved.’

  ‘Don’t you dare say that! You worm.’

  ‘Let me speak. Hear me out, Kitty.Then you can call me what you will if your heart is still turned against me. But listen to me first.’

  She pursed her lips, and glowered at him, red-eyed, and then nodded slowly. ‘Have your say, Arthur, for all the good it might do.’

  For the first time that day his heart lightened a fraction, and he drew a breath to calm himself before he told her about his letter to Richard, and its unfortunate consequences.

  ‘I told Lord Camden that under the circumstances there was no question of my taking the position,’ he concluded. ‘I’ve been looking for you ever since, because I wanted to tell you the truth about it, before you heard what had happened and perhaps misunderstood.’

  ‘Misunderstood? It’s a bit more serious than that, Arthur.’

  ‘Don’t you think I know?’ Arthur struck his chest. ‘Kitty, I realise I am within a hair’s breadth of losing the person I love more than any other in this world, but I swear I am telling you the truth. I had no part in this.’ He took a step closer and sank down on to his knees in front of her. ‘I swear I have not done anything to be ashamed of. I have told Camden I cannot take the job and I pleaded with him to return it to your uncle. I have acted as honourably as the situation allowed.’

  She stared at him in silence, and he saw the conflicting emotions in her expression. Slowly, he reached for her hand and held it gently. Her lips trembled and she lifted his hand to her cheek and pressed her flesh against his.

  ‘Oh, Arthur, I want to believe it. Tom said some dreadful things this morning. He had an urgent meeting today. Afterwards I feared he might come to find you, to demand satisfaction.That is why I had to speak to you first.’

  ‘I’ll have to explain it to him.’

  ‘Not now. He would as soon shoot you as see you. Let me speak to him first. I’ll send a message when it’s safe to tell him in your own words.’ She released his hand and dried her eyes on the sleeve of her coat. ‘I had better get back. He may be at home and wonder where I have gone.’

  Arthur eased himself up on to his feet. ‘Yes, of course. I’ll wait until I hear from you.’

  He escorted her to the door, and as they stood on the threshold Arthur held her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. ‘I love you, Kitty. I would never do anything to endanger or dishonour that love.’

  She smiled briefly. ‘I know. And I love you. I think I always will.’

  Then she turned and hurried away.

  Even though Captain Pakenham accepted Arthur’s explanation, he was understandably angry about Richard’s role in the affair. Kitty’s brother was less forgiving and refused to have anything further to do with the Wesley family, forbidding Arthur to visit his home, and warning Kitty to steer clear of him.Worse still, the affair had soured Arthur’s relations with Lord Camden and it was clear that there would be no chance of preferment from that quarter for a long time.

  Accordingly Arthur swallowed his pride and his bitterness and wrote to Richard to see what his brother could do by way of finding him a field command, since only a career in the army still lay open to him. The orders came swiftly. Lieutenant Colonel Wesley was to rejoin the 33rd regiment of foot in Plymouth where the regiment was preparing for service in the West Indies. Arthur packed his meagre belongings into travel chests, and made his farewells.

  He managed to get a message to Kitty through Captain Fenshaw, who was more than happy to convey a note from his soon to be departing rival. They met, late in August, at a small coffee house close to the castle. For the first time in over a week the sky was clear and Dublin was bathed in warm sunshine that raised the spirits of the city’s inhabitants, so that there was a marked contrast between the expressions of the two figures sitting at a table in a corner and those of the other customers, who chatted together in cheerful tones.

  ‘I’ve no idea how long I will be away this time,’ said Arthur. ‘It may be for some years.’

  ‘Years?’ Kitty winced. ‘Why so long? The last campaign was over in a matter of months.’

  ‘I know. But this time it will be different. The government wants to take the war to the French colonies. So it’s going to be a question of subduing one island at a time. That might take much longer than anyone thinks, particularly with conditions as they are in the West Indies.’

  ‘Conditions?’ Kitty frowned.‘You mean the dangers to health, don’t you? Charles told me about all the diseases: yellow fever, dysentery . . .oh, I don’t want to remember the rest.’ She reached her hand across the table and interlaced her fingers with his. ‘Arthur, promise me you will take care of yourself.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, Kitty. But in any case I imagine that I won’t be able to see you again for a long time. By then, you will have forgotten me, and be married to someone else. Charles perhaps.’

  ‘Don’t say such things.’ She looked down and shook her head. ‘I want you.’

  ‘It would be the height of folly for us to marry as things stand, Kitty. Just know that my feelings for you will never change. Whatever happens. And if I do return one day, having made my fortune, and by some miracle you have not wed, then . . .’

  She looked up and forced a smile. ‘I’ll still be here. If you still want me.’

  Arthur felt a raw flood of emotion fill his heart, only to turn to a terrible aching agony at the cruel knowledge that in a short time they would be parted, perhaps for ever.

  ‘Kitty. On my life, I will still want you. I promise.’

  Chapter 14

  December, 1795

  It was a fine, clear winter day and the harbour at Southampton was filled with shipping.The masts, spars and rigging looked like a vast, intricate spiderweb from where Arthur observed the scene from the main quay. In amongst the coasters and small trading vessels were the large Indiamen flying the East India Company’s flag. Further out lay the warships of the Royal Navy, from small sloops up to the stately ships of the line. The vessels were anchored to one side of the channel as several ships, taking advantage of a favourable breeze, glided into Southampton, passing those setting sail for other destinations. Their topsails were sheeted home and bulged as they filled under the pressure of the wind, canting the vessels gently to leeward.

  The quay was filled with men unloading cargo from the merchant ships, and others loading supplies and equipment aboard the troopships berthed near the naval yard. Arthur watched as his officers and sergeants marshalled the red-coated men of his regiment, the 33rd Foot, and marched them up the ramps on to the decks of the vessels that would be their cramped quarters for the next few month
s. The harsh shouts of the sergeants competed with the breeze singing through the rigging and the shrill cacophony of seagulls. Once the last of the men were aboard, Arthur turned away and made his way back to his lodgings at the Crown and Anchor inn to settle his personal affairs before joining his men. If the wind direction remained constant, the regiment would sail on the noon tide of the following day. So he worked hard to complete the remaining tasks before he quit England.

  He still owed the family’s land agent over a thousand pounds and had arranged for his mother, Lady Anne Wesley, to guarantee the debt until he should return from foreign service to repay it. He owed Richard considerably more once he had reckoned up all the loans advanced to him by his brother to purchase commissions and pay for the costs of his election to the seat at Trim. Lastly, he wrote a final letter to Kitty, in which he set down his intention to make a name and a fortune for himself, and should she still be unmarried on his return to honour his pledge to marry her. Arthur had given much thought to this letter. Time could change a man’s feelings, yet he felt sure enough of the permanent nature of his love for Kitty to commit himself to her in writing.

  He signed the letter, folded it carefully, wrote Kitty’s name and address on the front and then sealed it. Then he sat back in his seat and poured himself a large glass of Madeira. It was dusk and the light was fading.The rooms he had rented at the Crown and Anchor were comfortable enough, but the windows were small and stained and looked down into the coach yard. Not that there had been a moment to contemplate a view had there been one.

  As soon as Arthur had arrived in Southampton he had been overwhelmed by the host of tasks demanding his attention. He had to ensure that the regiment was fully equipped for the coming campaign, and that all the men with families had made arrangements for a proportion of their pay to be sent directly to their wives. Wills had to be written and countersigned before being sent back to the battalion’s depot. A small number of men were in jail for sundry offences and debts and Arthur had had to humbly request their release, or cajole the local magistrates into believing that it was their patriotic duty to return the miscreants to their colours so that they could atone for their sins by fighting for King and country. One of his officers had run up a large gambling debt which Arthur had borrowed money to pay off rather than lose the young man’s services. The debt would be recouped from his pay, eventually. The letter to Kitty had been the final task, and one that had been put off until there were no lingering distractions to interfere with the composition of what might well be his last message to her.

  Now it was finished, and there was nothing more to do. As soon as the wind was favourable Arthur would board his ship and sail away from England. As he sipped, sparingly, from his glass Arthur realised how tired he was. Frantic weeks of activity had taken their toll and he felt drained of energy. His head was pounding and his body ached. He rose from his seat wearily and undressed. Leaving his clothes hanging over the back of his chair, he climbed into his bed and closed his eyes.

  He woke early, cold and shivering. Outside the wind moaned across the roofs of the port and when Arthur made his way down to the quay it was clear that a gale was blowing directly up the channel. The weather remained foul for several more days and while the men sat aboard their ships, struggling to find their sea legs, Arthur spent his time walking and riding along the shores of the Solent, watching and waiting for the shift in the wind that would make it possible for the convoy to leave Southampton. In the evenings he returned to his room to read the books he had bought about the West Indies. He had also borrowed some French newspapers from the harbour master so that he might learn the latest news of the conflict in Europe. As he perused the articles he once again came across the name of Bonaparte. It seemed that France’s hero of Toulon had now added to his laurels by crushing a royalist uprising in Paris and had been promoted to full general. Arthur sighed wearily. It seemed that luck favoured some men far more than others. While this man Bonaparte seemed to have every good fortune strewn in his path, every possible obstacle was being placed between Arthur and any measure of success. Much as he abhorred the revolution in France and all that it stood for, he could not help feeling envious of Bonaparte’s situation. One day perhaps Arthur’s luck would change, and he would strive to match, and possibly outdo, the achievements of men such as General Bonaparte.

  At last, in the middle of December, on a bitingly cold day, the wind veered round to the east and the captain of the frigate Hermione, charged with escorting the transports, sent word to Arthur that the convoy would set sail the next morning.

  The wind howled across the surface of the sea, whipping foam off the crests of the waves. On the ships the rigging moaned and shrilled as the deck rolled one way and then the other beneath Arthur’s boots. Overhead thin strips of sail were stretched taut beneath the furled material hanging from the spars. Two small triangles of jib sails above the bowsprit helped to thrust the transport ship on as it followed the loose line of vessels ahead, steering south-west away from the coast of the Isle of Wight. Half a mile off the starboard bow the Hermione surged forward, bursting through the waves in great showers of spray that were blown back over her foredeck.

  Wild as the weather was on deck, Arthur was enjoying himself, wrapped up in a thick coat and covered with oilskins to protect him from the icy squalls that blew in every so often, almost blotting out the coast of England when they struck. The wild fury of nature filled him with a sense of awe, mingled with an all too human pride in man’s triumph over the elements as the ships ploughed defiantly through the waves towards the open sea. Ahead he could just make out the Needles: tall columns of white rock stretching out from the end of the Isle of Wight. The lead transport was sticking to Captain Shelby’s orders and, as Arthur watched, began to pass well clear of the rocks. As the last of the transports beat past the Needles he could hear the boom and roar of waves striking the columns even above the wind. Then they emerged from the partial shelter of the island and the ship was exposed to the full force of the wind. The deck canted over alarmingly and he clung to the side rail.

  ‘Colonel! Colonel Wesley!’

  He turned and saw a figure making his way forward along the quarterdeck. A fluke of wind blew the rim of the newcomer’s oilskin hat flat against his forehead, and Arthur recognised Captain Hodges. Hodges was an experienced sailor and strode forward comfortably enough as the deck heaved and swooped beneath his boots. As he closed up on Arthur he cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted, ‘I’d advise you to get below, sir!’

  Arthur shook his head. ‘Not yet! I want a last look at England!’

  Hodges stared back for a moment and then shrugged as he turned back towards the quarterdeck. ‘It’s your funeral, sir.’

  In truth Arthur just wanted to delay returning to the narrow cabin that had been allocated to him close to the stern of the ship. The soldiers had been ordered to stay below and keep out of the way of the sailors, but the world below deck was a hellish chaos. There was no fixed point of reference for the eye relative to the motion of the ship and within minutes the wild motion had stricken scores of men with nausea and several were vomiting into the first slop bucket that came to hand. Their suffering was made worse by the stink wafting up from the ship’s bilges. Some of the men were too terrified to feel unwell and sat wedged in corners against the great compass timbers of the ship that groaned and creaked with the strain of battling the storm. Their lips moved in silent prayer, or curses, and the cumulative effect of it all drove Arthur up on deck where he had sought Hodges’ permission to stay there a while, out of the way of the crew.

  But now it was growing dark, and already the lead ship was no longer visible, just the bright spark of the heavy lantern lashed halfway up the mizzen mast. As night closed in round the transport, Arthur finally picked his way back towards the gangway that led to the cabins, and with a final glance at the black mass of the sea surrounding the transport he ducked down and carefully descended the steep stairs into the narrow pass
age. His cabin was one of the more spacious, but even so it was not very much larger than the cot it held. Arthur stripped off his oilskins and cloak, placed them over his sea chest, and then called for one of the ship’s servants to bring him a drink. As he settled into his blankets to go to sleep his ears were filled with the protesting creaks of stressed timbers, the deep moan of the wind, and the thud-crash of the waves.

  The morning brought fresh problems. The convoy had been scattered during the night, and when Arthur joined Hodges on the deck in the wan glow of the light filtering through the dark grey clouds rolling overhead he could see the pale streaks of the sails of only two ships on the surrounding sea.

  ‘Are any of the other transports in sight?’

  ‘Lookout reports two more, hull down to the south of us.’