‘Quite so.’ Crossman felt the scrutiny of those piercing eyes as the colonel openly appraised him. ‘Yet here you are. Good. Good. And how’s the hand?’
Crossman looked down at his damaged wooden appendage.
‘No trouble, sir. I’ve invented an iron hand, which I’ve yet to try out in anger.’
The colonel smiled. ‘You were always a one for your devices and machineries, Lieutenant. And Sergeant King? Are you two getting on all right.’ The colonel’s tone suggested he only wanted one answer.
‘The sergeant’s with me, sir,’ he couldn’t help himself, ‘now about this mapping business . . .’
‘Ah yes,’ the eyes lit up, ‘quite so. Mapping. Very useful to us in our business, Lieutenant. Two birds with one stone, eh? We can be about a legitimate business, yet do our own work at the same time. And – and, mark you, the maps we make can help us in our future operations. There’s no advantage more useful than knowing where one is, where the enemy is, and what lies between, now is there? Now, down to political business. Have you any intelligence for me? What did you pick up on your way?’
‘Not a great deal, Colonel. Anything we did discover will be redundant now that mutiny has actually broken out. All I managed to obtain were inferences and warnings, veiled threats of an uprising, all of which it seems have been fulfilled prior to my arrival.’
‘Quite. I thought as much. Events have overtaken you. Fact is,’ the colonel stood up, a tall lean grey-haired man with a sharp edge to his profile, ‘I know far more than you do at the moment.’ He laughed a little. ‘I should be reporting to you.’ He began pacing up and down behind his desk. ‘There’ve been uprisings all over, and more will come, without a doubt. A full-scale mutiny at Meerut. Several regiments of sepoys and sowars turned against us. There are many dead. Women and children slaughtered as well as officers and men. The mutineers have now left Meerut and marched down to Delhi, gathering sympathizers on their way – many of them badmashes and other flotsam – and the reports from Delhi are appalling. Massacres. Babes being put to the sword before the eyes of their mothers. The mothers then killed and mutilated. Ugly. All sorts of thugs joining the sepoys, swelling their numbers, committing foul deeds.
‘The old Mughal emperor in Delhi has been dragged into it – the mutineers are claiming him as their leader – but the poor old fellah’s a feather’s flight away from death as it is, so he can only be some sort of symbol to them.’
The colonel paused in midstride, then, after a moment or two, continued his pacing.
‘We’ve had a little uprising here in Ferozepur, but we put it down very quickly. The facts, when you look at them in stark figures, are not very encouraging. The East India Company army has something like three hundred thousand men – have you eaten by the way?’ The colonel’s hospitality, Jack remembered, was always ten paces behind his work.
‘I’m fine, sir. I ate, and drank, not two hours ago. Do go on.’
‘Right. Anyway, of those three hundred thousand only fourteen thousand are Europeans. The rest are native troops. We do have over twenty thousand Queen’s army stationed in India, quite a lot of them here in the Punjab. You can see by those numbers that if the Company’s native regiments as a whole decide to rise up together we won’t stand a chance. They’ll cut us down and roll over us like a wave. Our only hope is that some of the Bengal regiments, and those of the Bombay and Madras armies, will remain loyal to the British. It’s a fragile time, Lieutenant. The Company might shatter to pieces if we don’t manage to keep some friends.’
‘We’ve fought greater numbers before and won, sir.’
‘But not from within. This is akin to civil war. Any help we get will be from the brothers of our enemies. We’re entangled, Lieutenant. Fortunately, I don’t think they will all rise up at once. Many of them are waiting to see what happens. Our reputation, as conquerors, will hold many of them back until – I hope – it will be too late for them to commit themselves.’ He sighed. ‘This damn Company army has gone to ruin in the past few years, Jack.’ Crossman was startled at the use of his Christian name into being even more attentive to the colonel’s words. ‘European officers have become lazy and indolent. Their men hardly ever see some of them. When they’re not lying on their charpoys they’re out pig-sticking or playing polo. Decadence. It’s brought down great empires before now.’
Hawke paused to take a drink.
‘These Company officers, they’ve come to thinking that the machine will run on its own. You’re interested in machines, Jack. You know you have to look after them, lubricate them, replace worn parts, repair them. This damn machine has been allowed to run on without anyone bothering to look to its servicing. Oh, there are good officers out there,’ he threw a hand in the air, ‘but for every good officer there’s a dozen bad ’uns. Fat colonels, gin-soaked majors, idle captains. Yet even now – even now – many of them won’t disband their regiments, saying their men would never mutiny, never go against them. And what’s happening? The sepoys are shooting them out of the saddle of course. Just because they’ve been in India half their lives – all their lives in some cases – they think that entitles them to be loved.’
He whirled on Crossman. ‘The causes of all this are numerous – it’s not just the grease on the cartridges – it goes much deeper . . .’
‘I’ve been told,’ said Crossman, hoping now to add something to this debate, ‘that the annexation of Oudh didn’t help things. Also this business of sending high-caste sepoys overseas.’
‘Oh, those and others, Lieutenant. The whole pie has been crumbling at the edges for a long time now. You know I am Anglo-Indian myself. My mother, bless her soul . . . Well, I have half this continent in me. I understand the frustrations of the people. The fact is, this has been caused by stupidity. Nothing else really. Plain stupidity. Ignorance. These people are used to being conquered, used to being ruled by invaders, and for the most part settle for what comes, so long as their culture is respected. Even the great conquerer Akbar knew that. He was a Muslim but he did not try to convert the Hindus to his religion.
‘So long as they do not feel their religion threatened. It doesn’t take much,’ the hands went up, fluttered like birds, ‘just a bit of common sense. Once you start trying to change them against their will, then the dove becomes the tiger.’ He stopped, poured two glasses of water and offered one to Crossman. ‘You’ve listened to me long enough, Lieutenant. What questions do you have?’
‘Obviously, sir, I want to know how we can help, my little team and me. What’s happening here, in the Punjab? I understand we have several Queen’s army regiments stationed here at the moment.’
‘Yes, we do. Also, the Punjab Irregulars. Five cavalry regiments and ten infantry battalions, and the Corps of Guides of course’
‘Are they all likely to remain loyal to the British?’
‘I think so, yes, yes, I do,’ the colonel seemed to be convincing himself even as he spoke. ‘They aren’t Bengalis of course – the regiments here are made up of Pathans, Sikhs, Musselmen, Gurkhas, Afghans and Baluchis. None of these feel any sort of kinship for the Hindu or Muslim sepoys of the Bengal army. The Sikhs are dead keen to have a go at them, in fact. You may recall it was with the Bengal Army that we conquered the Sikh empire. They owe the Bengalis a thump or two and they’re raring to get at them. No, I’m pretty sure we’re secure here on the North-West Frontier – with one possible exception.’
Crossman had the feeling that here was where his duty lay.
‘Yes, sir – that is?’
‘The local Afghan tribes to the north. No one can be sure what the thinking is on the other side of the Khyber Pass. Do they see this as an opportunity to shed themselves of the British? It’s a distinct possibility. Or will they simply sit and wait for the outcome of this insurrection? Also a possibility. General Reed is heading what they call a Movable Column, out of Peshawar, but we do not want a rising in the hills to take advantage of the absence of our troops in the region, nor d
o we want anyone attacking our rear. You may recall we’ve got a bloody nose from the Afghans once before. I need you to ride north with all speed and assess the situation amongst the hill tribes, gain an assurance of their loyalty if you can.’
Crossman blinked and remained quiet.
‘Lieutenant? You seem a little puzzled by your orders.’
‘To be frank, sir, I am. There are surely more qualified people here to do that kind of work. It is my work, but aren’t there others who’ve been here since Adam who could do it better? Pathans and Afghans, and British officers who have formed bonds with the local tribes?’
‘There is – there are. They are all working. The number of tribes in those hills, which show as much aggression to their neighbours as they do to strangers, is legion. Even to cover the most important of them would take an army of agents. You’re a welcome addition, despite your lack of local experience. Your help will relieve some of the burden we face. Major Hodson is the big man around here for political activity, although he’s down in Amballa at present. Anyway, he’s happy for us to use you, and anyone else we can get. All right? I suggest you go can get yourself a bath, and a good meal, then I’ll send someone over with details of your mission.’ He chuckled, despite the gravity of the situation. ‘Not so much a fox hunt out here, as a tiger hunt, eh Lieutenant?’
‘Yes, sir.’ He paused before he said, ‘There won’t be much chance for King to do any mapping, will there?’
Hawke gave him one of his iron smiles. ‘No, and I take it you’re pleased about that.’
‘He is rather obsessed. Keeps going on about a man called George Everest. Some Surveyor-General or other. I gather he would follow the man into hell’s fire.’
Hawke said, ‘Met Colonel Everest once. Didn’t like him. Not many people do. Now Lambton, I understand, was the better man.’ The colonel sighed. ‘These mathematicians and science-wallahs are all right in their place, but they start to think the world revolves around their work. Who cares whether India is mapped to the inch, so long as we have charts which guide us over unknown ground. But there you go, they are – what was the word you used? obsessed? – they are obsessed with precision. Well, back to soldiery matters . . .’
The colonel then gave Jack a detailed appraisal of the situation in Meerut, Delhi and other stations, as he understood it, and then gave the lieutenant leave to prepare his men for the ride.
Jack left the bungalow with mixed feelings in his breast. There were a couple of junior officers on Hawke’s veranda. Crossman managed to speak with them for a short while, to gauge their feelings at this momentous time in the history of the Company. What he heard was not encouraging. There was a great deal of spleen and very little calm thinking. Jack only hoped that the big names in the region – Nicholson, Chamberlain and Edwardes – were more rational. From the junior officers he heard threats of wholesale slaughter of the population, of retaliatory massacres, of razing towns and villages to the ground. The general rage of the British seemed somewhat out of control.
The task ahead of him, as a gatherer of information, was daunting to say the least. To go immediately up into the northern hills to assess the situation there was a frightening thing for someone so new to India and even newer to the North-West Frontier. He had imagined he would enter the water gradually, getting used to the temperature by degrees, submerging himself slowly and carefully. Yet, here he was, being forced to dive in without knowing anything of much use to him.
Of course, these were desperate times, what with massacres of not only men but also wives, daughters and sons. Infants being hacked to death. Babies being murdered. Even from just looking about him now, at the faces of officers and men in the barracks, he could see the incandescent fury in their eyes. British women and children! And European continental families, along with Americans, Australians and Canadians, for the British were not the only traders in this rich and profitable land. They felt it was a monstrous act, an unpardonable act, an act which required not justice but wholesale vengeance. Someone would have to contain this rage or it would explode with terrible consequences and the sickness move into following generations.
When Crossman arrived back at the quarters King had secured for them, he found Ishwar Raktambar sitting by the doorway. The Rajput’s horse was tethered near a water trough not far away, the foam from a hard ride shaping where the saddle had been. Raktambar stood up as Jack approached. He looked as contrite as Jack had ever seen him. There was a sober expression on his face. For once he did not appear aggressive nor sulky, only attentive and ready to talk.
‘Sahib, I see the furrows on your face. You are not pleased to see me. Yet I have come back to honour the promise made to you in front of the maharajah, to protect you for your time in India.’
‘I admit I’m surprised to see you. I thought we understood you were to return to your master?’
‘Once out in the country, I had much time to think,’ said the Rajput. ‘Please do not make me beg to come back. I have my honour, sir. I have my honour. It means more to me than anything. If I go back to my home, I go back without that honour. I offer you my hand in friendship,’ he extended his arm, ‘and my loyalty. I will give you my loyalty and you will give me yours. It is only fair, sahib, to have your oath as you have mine.’
Natives were always throwing this word ‘fair’ into any bargain, knowing it to be an important one amongst the British.
‘Can I trust you, then? What made you change your mind?’
‘You can trust me with your life, sahib, as I expect to trust you with mine.’ Raktambar clearly wanted this to be a two-way bargain, in order to be fair and honourable to both men. ‘We are brothers of the blade.’ He touched the hilt of the sword at his hip.’ He paused, then continued, ‘What made the change of my mind? The sunset. I looked into the sunset and saw my pride draining from the sky like blood. For a Rajput there is nothing so important. We must put aside our loyalties to the rest of the world, you and I, and we must look to each other. These are uncertain times. This is what I saw in the sunset. You looking to me and me looking to you.’
The arm was still out. Jack finally took the hand and shook, grimly.
‘I hope neither of us will regret this, Raktambar. We are different men from different worlds.’
‘Different in many ways, but not the most important.’
Crossman smiled. ‘I believe you’re right. Now, see to your mount, then join us for some food. There’s a lot to discuss.’
The Rajput heaved a sigh, possibly of relief, but more likely of resignation, then he too grinned. The tall man walked away, leaving Jack wondering what was going to become of the two of them. Was he making a mistake? He did not blame Ishwar Raktambar in the least. Certainly not for having loyalties to his fellow Indians, nor for wishing to be safe at home in the arms of his beloved, but the fact was the Honourable East India Company was in crisis – the British were in crisis – and reliable men were needed. One had enough to do without having to watch one’s back for signs of treachery amongst one’s own men. Better to let the danger go away, than to keep it with him. Even as he was stepping through the doorway, Jack was beginning to regret his decision to keep Raktambar.
20
They were gathered in Crossman’s bungalow, a small but adequate dwelling which had come – to Gwilliams’ great disgust – with a manservant. This cook-bearer was at that moment making them mango drinks in the small kitchen off the back of the building. They had clustered on the veranda, the room behind them being stifling hot. On hearing of the arrival of newcomers, flies had come in their thousands from surrounding areas to greet them. King was at the moment engaged in a wholesale slaughter which did not seem to reduce the numbers of the unwanted visitors in the least. Around his chair, like a spilt box of dried blackcurrants, were the bodies of the dead. King still wielded his swat, becoming adept at hitting flies in the air, as well as those which had settled on arms, legs and furniture.
‘We’re to receive orders to go north-west
, to a place known as Piwar,’ Crossman said. ‘To assess the danger of an uprising amongst the hill tribes. We leave in the morning. You may have heard on the grapevine that there’s been trouble all over India – outbreaks in Aligarh, Mainpuri, Etawah, Bulandshar, Nasirabad, Moradabad, Shahjahanpur and many of the smaller stations. In others, Lahore, Agra, Lucknow, Peshawar – as you know – native regiments have been disarmed. But many British officers are refusing to disband their regiments, believing they will remain loyal. We all hope that’s the case, but we must prepare for the worst.’
Sergeant King rose from his wicker chair, which had been protesting noisily with each violent movement of his body as he attacked the enemy.
‘I’ll go and get the men ready,’ he said. ‘We’ll probably need to purchase another set of camels – ours need a rest.’
‘Stay where you are, Sergeant.’
The sergeant blinked and sat back down again.
Jack explained, ‘We’re not taking your retinue, King. This is a proper military expedition, not a mapmaking jaunt.’
‘Very funny,’ muttered Gwilliams. ‘Retinue. King. Yes, a humorous note has entered the proceedings.’
‘What?’ cried a hurt Sergeant King, predictably. ‘Why can’t they come anyway?’
‘Because,’ the lieutenant explained, ‘I say so.’ He had never thought he would use those words – words which he had treated with contempt when he had been a private and on the other end of them – but they saved a lot a time. ‘Speed is important. It’s vital. They’ll slow us up. Do as you’re told for once in your life, Sergeant, or I shall get very cross.’
‘. . . man,’ said Gwilliams, grinning.
‘And that’s enough from you too, Corporal. This is a serious business. I’ve just been briefed by Colonel Hawke. There’s been a full-scale mutiny at Meerut. Several regiments of the Bengal army have shot their officers, and others, set fire to barracks and bungalows, and then – gathering a lot of badmashes on the way – set out for Delhi. So far as I can gather they’ve got control of Delhi and whole families are being cut down. The plight of our people in Delhi is dire. A column is setting out from Peshawar, but they’re concerned about the tribes beyond the Khyber. We have to join others in paying a visit, gaining assurances from the hill tribes that they have no intention of attacking our column from the rear, or using the absence of our soldiers to create havoc in the hills and down here in the Punjab. How far we can trust their word, once we’ve got it is anyone’s guess, but at least we can gauge the mood and the numbers. Any questions.’
Brothers of the Blade Page 18
