Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 ..

by Taylor, Winchcombe

  He ended his half apology with a further threat to Ram. "As for you, the H.E.I.C. has control over all Britons in Hind. So should ye drop us a word now and then of these foreigners' plans, it might go in your favor. Understand?"

  "Aye," Ram bowed disarmingly. "If I play traitor to them, I'll be a good Briton." He asked van Hoven's leave to quit the deck.

  "First you will insist our guest tries some of our schnapps," the Dutchman ordered. "When bumpers are raised, tempers ease."

  Ram delivered the invitation but, still ruffled, would have left had he not heard a whispered, "Wait!" and saw Rale's ensign winking at him. He winked back and, when the rest had gone below to the great cabin, the two drew together.

  "Ned Machin." The visitor held out a hand. "Don't take Rale too hard. Ambitious and liverish both. Been out here overlong, with too little glory and too much Madeira in his belly."

  Ram laughed, his temper eased. "Glad you told me. Big as he is, I was ready to call him out. Traitor, bedamned!"

  "But it's true, you know. I mean, the H.E.I.C. persuaded Parliament to pass the act. The Dutch and French had lured too many company servants away with better pay." When he learned that Ram had not only fought at Belgrade but was a Flanders veteran, he groaned enviously. "Ged, I'm twenty-two, with three years out here, and all I've done is mount guard and drill sepoys."

  "Sepoys? You mean native soldiers?"

  "Aye. Madrassies, we have here—from the Coromandel Coast. Smart as paint on parade, but I've never seen them in action."

  "Come below to my cabin and we'll broach my private stores," Ram invited. "I've some rare Tokay from Hungary."

  But already Rale had been escorted back on deck. The schnapps had clearly mellowed him, for his mahogany face was now beefy-red and his gait unsteady. "Tonight . . . sup . . . governor's mansion," he hiccuped. "Damn my guts, why can't they understand plain English? Where's that cursed interpreter?"

  Ram translated the invitation and its acceptance. As the visitors went overside, Machin whispered: "Bring the wine, and after mess we'll crack it in my bungalow."

  That night. Ram doubted that it would ever be cracked, for the banquet of hot curries, roast beef, game, pasties and exotic fruits

  seemed endless, while his head reeled from continuous translating. The setting was bizarre: the pompous governor, wearing a massive gold chain, the chief traders and factors, the military officers, the writers, port officials and others, all seated according to rank and served by scores of dark-skinned servants. Wine and spirits flowed and, but for the huge punkahs suspended from the ceiling and pulled by tireless natives, many diners, hosts included, might have died from the heat and the overrich food.

  Toasts were drunk to George I, the Emperor, Prince Eugene, the H.E.I.C. and even the visitors. But at last Machin was able to steer unsteady Ram outside,

  "If my bearer isn't around, I'll break his bloody neck," he promised. "Hi, hehra, idhar ao!"

  "Main yahun hurt, sahib." A torch-carrying native appeared.

  "Come." Arm linked in Ram's, Ned followed the man. He began to sing in a soft-voweled tongue. It was a stirring march and at its end he laughed happily. "My native Welsh. Rhyfelgyrch gwyr Harlech! —March of the Men of Harlech to you. 'S'bout what we did to you dog-faced Saxons long ago. Here we are."

  His bungalow hardly compared with the governor's mansion, but to Ram, after months of sharing a tiny cabin with a nightly drunk surgeon, it was palatial. Too, it swarmed with servants.

  Ram's Tokay had been taken earlier by the bearer, and now it reappeared, cool, to be poured into silver goblets.

  "Boots," Ned ordered. A native unshod him and did the same for Ram. "Coats." The red and the white were deftly removed.

  "Now to work." Ram was proffered some of his own wine.

  Muzzily he blurted a problem. "For months I've studied Bengali but, damme, I don't understand your speech with your lackeys."

  "Hindustani. Company's servants all over India must know it, as well as the local tongues. In Bombay, Madras and here."

  They drank again. Ram made an effort. "Mus' get aboard." From afar he heard Ned shouting in Hindustani, He knew that wine was spilling from his goblet. His eyes closed. . . .

  "Herr Leutnant!" Beyer was shaking him. Groaning, he opened an eye and gradually he knew he was in his cabin.

  A throaty cackle came from Surgeon Wiktorin in the berth below. "Ach, young numskull, once ashore and you get into trouble."

  "How did I get back aboard?"

  "How? Just as I was settling into my sweetest sleep, four black Moors carry you in, Teufel, I thought I was nightmaring!"

  Helped by Beyer, Ram gained the deck. Gradually he remembered Ned, the bungalow, the Tokay. He began to revive; washed, skipped a scarcely necessary shave and dressed. Wiktorin was snoring.

  "Hen Doktor." Ram shook him.

  "Himmel, away!" It came out then that the rotund surgeon had returned aboard only a little before Ram, and if "black Moors" hadn't put him to bed, at least Beyer had. "These English," he groaned, "first they threaten us, then they feast us. Mad!"

  Ram didn't agree. Though no one had pumped him, he felt sure that, despite language differences, questions had been asked over wine cups and unguarded answers given. No, the English weren't mad.

  Calcutta was already astern by the time Ram felt able to face breakfast. Among the few at table was Franz de Boer. Glassy-eyed, he said the banquet had gone on and on. "The English say their big ships can't go much farther upriver than this, but we're Dutch-built and of shallow draft. We'll show 'em yet!"

  Ram gulped coffee, ate a biscuit, shuddered at the pork and went on deck. The river was narrowing now. A town unveiled on the right bank. A seaman said it was Serampore—Danish. The ship saluted it with three guns and three answered, but no barge came off, and L'Esperance continued onward.

  Soon a native boat ran alongside and a leather}' little European climbed aboard. "Anyone here speak English?"

  "Servant, sir," Ram bowed, deciding that the other was as old as Methuselah and as wizened as a monkey.

  "Alexander Hume. I can make ma way in French and Dutch, but I've little German." He had an exceptionally deep voice.

  After passing word for van Hoven, Ram introduced himself.

  "English, eh?" The Scot looked pleased. "Well, laddie, the H.E.I.C. may deem us renegades, but there's money to be made wi' a new company," When he heard of Rale's threats, he grinned wryly. "That's why I didna come aboard downriver. That sour-hearted redcoat would hang me if he could."

  When van Hoven had taken the chief trader below. Ram resumed

  watching the sights. Late in the forenoon he saw the Austrian colors above some low buildings on the left bank. Bankipur at last!

  But his spirits plummeted as the ship was towed to its beri:h. Here was no town: only some palm-thatched godowns and a new-made wharf. Did this represent the Ostend company's power in Bengal?

  But, like the rest, he hadn't reckoned with Hume. The desiccated little Scot was made of whipcord and energy, and under his driving the factory sprouted. And when, a month later, L'Esperance dropped downriver, her hold crammed with goods, Bankipur was becoming a thriving town. Native merchants erected shops in straggling bazaars, trade was brisk, and the godowns were brimming, while ofBces and bungalows were being built for the Europeans.

  Best of all, a fort was half completed. Ram sweated and growled under Ritter's pressure, but had to admit the Austrian understood fortification. Cannon were mounted and ammunition stored in a magazine. When Ritter demanded that half his command be mounted, thrifty Hume grudgingly bought tattoos—tough little native horses. To Ram's disgust, however, Ritter, an atrocious rider, insisted upon training his cavalry himself.

  Ram's bungalow, near the fort, stood in its own compound, with huts at the farther end for the servants. These consisted of: a behra, Gopal Das; a khansaman or butler, Bolal Sen; a khidmatgar or head table serx'ant; a bawachi who, being a Moslem, would cook beef but abhorred pork, and half a
dozen more. All brought their families to live on his bounty, but no women served him; even his washing was done by dhobi wallahs.

  Most of all, he was fascinated by the bazaar merchants, who came from all over India. He practiced Bengali and Hindustani on them, and it was from a rug dealer, Azul Khan, from far-off Afghanistan, that he bought his horses. For the beak-nosed old Pathan scoffed at his country tattoo and offered to get him pure-bred Arabs.

  He couldn't resist and, though they cost him much gold, he soon owned two stallions and three mares, fine animals with a touch of Satan in their veins. One stallion he named Battle from sheer nostalgia, the other Chota Billa—Little Cat—because of the delicate way he walked.

  As governor, Hume was obliged to obtain firmans—official permissions to trade—from the Nawab and lesser potentates, and aware

  how a show of strength impressed Orientals, he decided that the company needed native troops. So a hundred men were recruited, mainly Bengalese, who made most military-looking soldiers.

  Ram trained them, with Czappan as drillmaster, and when they had become a coherent body, he asked Ritter to inspect them. The oberleutnant agreed and rode along the ranks, with Ram and the feldwebel following proudly. He reined in abruptly and indicated one man. "Him! He was a laborer at the fort. I dismissed him as a spy. Why is he here?"

  "He's one of the best," Ram said, surprised. "He's a Maratha."

  "Have him out. I'll deal with him."

  Reluctantly, Ram ordered the sepoy brought before all-powerful Ritter Sahib, who flung questions at him. Why had he dared to enlist, after being dismissed as a spy?

  He admitted he was interested in how Feringis built forts and trained soldiers, but, he swore, he was no spy and only wished to serve the sahibs loyally.

  "Feldwebel, parade the Europeans and set up the halberds." Ritter grew savage. "We'll treat this rogue to twoscore lashes. If we don't make these bastards fear us, we'll be at their mercy."

  Though too disciplined to protest before the troops. Ram felt that Ritter was wrong. Too, he liked Baja Rao who, with flashing eyes and impressive mustaches, seemed more warlike than the rest.

  So the miserable business was executed, despite the Maratha's frantic pleas. With the Europeans paraded, he was stripped of his uniform and triced up. Then, his back in ribbons, he was cut down, dragged outside the fort and ordered never to return.

  "Good," Ritter commented. "The rest will improve faster now."

  Ram disagreed, but he was wrong: the Bengalese did improve as drill soldiers. Later, while talking with some, trying to learn their habits and thoughts, he found them indifferent to Baja Rao's fate. He was an alien from distant Indore, they said, a boaster who told fantastic lies of his courage; it was good he was gone.

  Soon afterward Hume sent for Ram. "Sit ye down, lad, I've been so busy wi' things I've had no time to talk wi' ye. Tell me now, are ye no' one of the Anstruthers of Fife?"

  "I'm Yorkshire bred though Holland born, but my great-grandfather came from Fife, sir. Isn't there an Anstruther town there?"

  "Aye," Hume beamed. "Thought there was good Scots blood in ye. I'm from Berwickshire maself. Well, we're the only two Britons among all these foreigners, so mayhap our interests are alike, eh?"

  "My deepest wish, sir," Ram agreed politely, though puzzled, Hume was old enough to be his grandfather.

  The other asked about the sepoys' progress. "I must away soon to the nawab at Murshidabad. A fine soldier escort would gi' me great izzat in his eyes, and mayhap he'll grant our firman for only one lakh of rupees' bribe instead of four or five. Would ye no' wish to lead the troops?"

  Ram said dutifully that it was Ritter's right to go, but Hume didn't agree, "Yon German's experienced, no doubt, so its best he stays. Suppose the fort's attacked treacherously? It's happened elsewhere. Nay, it's you I'll be taking,"

  So when Hume set out on his 400-mile journey. Ram led twenty mounted Austrians. Behind marched the sepoy company, officered by writers de Boer and van der Heer, newly made ensigns. Hume, van Hoven and Rooses traveled in palanquins borne by sturdy natives. Camels carried gifts for the Nawab and his principal ministers.

  As the column advanced upcountry, Hume told Ram much about current Indian history: The nawab, Murshid Kuli Khan, owed allegiance to the Great Mogul who sat on the Peacock Throne in Delhi. But the blood of the Moslem conquerors ran thin in its present occupant, Muhammed Shah, so that his viceroys and nawabs had become virtually independent, while the subject Hindus were rebelling, defeating his armies and winning back their old lands.

  "Bad for traders," Hume added. "Forces us to take sides. But we never keep together. If the British make agreement wi' one rajah, the Dutch or French back t'other. As for ourselves, we're new and a prey for all, if I can't win the nawab's good will."

  Murshidabad was the first Indian city Ram had seen, and as he led the troops through its packed streets, his eyes were so busy it was hard for him to hold his head disdainfully high. There were great temples, minareted mosques, ornamented palaces, seething bazaars; men of every Asian nation, from undersized Moplahs to rawboned Afghans and slant-eyed Mongols; women, the Hindus in lovely saris that accentuated their fluid grace, the Moslems veiled so that only their fine eyes showed.

  Then the audience at the nawab's durbar. As military commander. Ram accompanied the traders into the vast palace and was permitted to salute the Great Mogul's viceroy. Hume ordered the presents to be piled at the foot of the dais; then, half deferential, half haughty, he told of the advantages of having a new company which could distribute Bengal's wares in new areas of Europe. He spoke, too, of the company's founder, Prince Eugene, Europe's greatest soldier.

  Condescending to accept the gifts, the nawab replied that he would consider the matter of a firman, since trade was good for everyone. That was all, the audience was over.

  Back at their quarters. Ram was surprised to see Hume jubilant. "A mere lakh I'll be dropping into his itching palm!" the latter gloated. "A hundred thousand rupees is a sore sacrifice, wi' perhaps another half lakh to underlings, but the firman's ours."

  "But he promised nothing, sir," Ram puzzled. "Can you be sure?"

  "Sure enough. You'll see, in a month it'll all be settled."

  It was, and the Ostenders marched homeward. Sheer satisfaction made Hume seem ten years younger. "Mark me," he told Ram, "in a few years we'll be as big as John Company itself!"

  "John Company?"

  "Another name for the H.E.I.C.—a corruption of 'Joint Company,' as it was called when it was founded back in 1600." Hume chuckled. "We're no' likely to handle tea at Bankipur, though our Coblom factor will. It'll go to Ostend, but every chest will be smuggled to England. Not being taxed there, 'twill sell for half of what the H.E.I.C must ask. There'll be the devil to pay!"

  "Then it'll harm English trade?" Ram wondered why Hume was so bitter against the company he had served so long.

  "Aye, if folk get half-price tea, John Company's ruined and we'll likely take its place and all get as rich as nabobs."

  When Ram asked what he should invest in to send back in the next ship, Hume advised gumlac. "Most will be using their cargo space for silk, but gumlac's more valuable by bulk. 'Tis only a peculiar kind of tree gum, but it makes the finest sealing wax. 'Twill bring e three hundred per cent profit. I'm using my own space to the limit for it. Oh, by the by, I'm hoping we'll see much of ve when my wife and bairns arrive."

  "My thanks, sir. I didn't know you had a family."

  "They're at Serampore till I make ready for 'em. You being the only other Briton, I count on ye to amuse ma lassies, at least till some of our foreign scamps learn English or the vernacular."

  "Your daughters speak it?" It would be pleasant to practice Hindustani or Bengali with girls of his own race.

  "Aye, they were born oot here. What a Tower of Babel we are! We're few as yet, but we're from half Europe, and India to boot."

  Back at Bankipur, they found the fort completed but Ritter and others down with
a fever that bafBed Dr. Wiktorin. Hume and van Hoven, in fact, knew more about it and became amateur physicians, much to the surgeon's indignation.

  The writers-cum-ensigns returned to their accounts, so Ram put Czappan in charge of the Europeans and Kempny of the sepoys and took over-all command of the fort himself.

  One of his problems was that, through ignorance of native customs and prejudices, the white soldiers often caused broils in the bazaars. One morning, two Austrians failed to report in after overnight leave, so he led a mounted party in search of them. He was making inquiries in the Leathermakers' Bazaar and getting blandly negative replies when from its farther end came tumult. Yells, curses and the thud of blows sent men surging toward it.

  "Advance!" he ordered. "No striking without orders and guard well your rear." Spurring through the crowd, he strained to recognize German voices. In a space ahead he saw a single native fighting against half a score others who were armed with swords and lathis — long clubs. The lone man had only a dagger but was using it so well that his enemies kept at a respectful distance. As there was no sign of his missing troopers. Ram was about to turn back when the inequality of the odds made him change his mind.

  "Way make!" He drew his saber. Chota Billa's hoofs cleared a path and brought him between the assailed one and his foes. "Back, sons of an unclean mother! Spawn of jackals, begone!" Sight of armed Europeans was enough and, leaving two of their number writhing on the ground, the attackers fled. Though their intended victim's face was masked with blood and his left arm gashed, he still gripped his dagger, mouthing obscenities.

  "Vishna reward you!" he called suddenly. "It is I, Baja Rao!"

  Ram stared, then wanted to vomit. The Maratha's right eye lay on his cheek. "A htter quickly bring!" he ordered. "This luckless one to the fort carry." The crowd took up the cry, and soon Baja was being borne fortward.

  But there Wiktorin clucked over him glumly. "He's doomed. Best slit his throat and put him out of his miser)'."