A Good Soldier

by Richard Townsend Bickers

  “Are you really so confident?”

  “Not a shadow of doubt about it.”

  “The revenue farmer who gathers the taxes from that troublesome fellow Anwar Ali had a half-company of your infantry to support him in your absence. They don’t seem to have done very well.”

  “The Nawab ordered them to withdraw.”

  “That was ignominious.”

  “They were outnumbered. Anwar Ali had reinforcements from Ghulam Kasim.”

  “It was still a defeat, surely? Won’t you be outnumbered by the Raja of Karampur’s force?”

  “The revenue-farmer didn’t have cannon. And the lad in command of the troops was green. I’ll be in command. And I’ll have my guns.”

  “Are you equally confident that the Nawab will heed your advice?”

  “Sure of it. He won’t attack without me there. And he’s asked me to stay here and put the Army through manoeuvres to get ’em ready for what’s coming. I’ve already got a battalion on the frontier: infantry and artillery. There is a small garrison of fanatics in the fort at Girbad. The bulk of my troops are spread west of there.”

  “I hope your presence there will be a deterrent to Karampur.”

  “That’s what I told ’Is Nibs. Personally, meself, I think the Raja will ’ave a go. Otherwise all the money he’s paying them mercenaries will be wasted. But it’ll all be over in a few hours. My gunners will see to that. And when the Karampur Army turns tail and runs, I’ll personally take my cavalry after ’em.”

  “If I may say so, I think that the sooner you return to the frontier with a strong force of horse, foot and guns, the better.”

  “I would be doing that tomorrow if the Nawab had not been so insistent on my holding these manoeuvres. Then he wants a grand parade so he can review his troops before we set off. I told him the Army’s already prepared for war. And there would be more point in a review after we’ve beaten Karampur. But he’s a sharp one. He said ‘If your presence on the frontier deters Karampur from attacking, there will be no victory to celebrate with a review. So we’ll hold it now, before you go.’” Owthwaite turned to Ramsey. “You’ll be interested to see my two new companies of sharp-shooters. They’re armed with your weapons and they’ll march at the head of the infantry.”

  Carter and Thorn looked enquiringly at Ramsey.

  “I brought a number of the latest sporting rifles and shotguns which had just arrived from London. I gave the Nawab a pair. To my surprise, he bought the whole of my stock for the Army.”

  “That must have produced some welcome revenue after your losses on the way here.” Carter sounded kindly for once.

  “Yes, most useful.” But still, Ramsey reflected, a long way short of what he needed to settle his debt to MacLean.

  Thorn looked uncomfortable, cleared his throat and gave Ramsey a look of momentary guilt. Then looked with some uncertainty at the other two. “I haven’t mentioned this to the Resident. I wanted to have a word with you first, Ramsey, to confirm it. But as this is something of which,” he hesitated and seemed to choke a little, “Major Owthwaite should be aware, and this is a good opportunity...”

  “Get on with it,” Carter said testily.

  “Well... I hear that Ghulam Kasim called on you and went away with a pair of guns too.”

  Ramsey smiled. “Your wrestler friends must be a good source of information.”

  “I didn’t say...”

  “No, and it’s no concern of mine where you get your information. Everyone in India needs informers. Unwin has his in the harem. Your pahlwan friends are your eyes and ears. I do not resent it.”

  “Then you don’t deny it?” asked Carter.

  “Why should I? Ghulam Kasim’s father and mine were old friends. My father thought highly of Ghulam Kasim.”

  “It seems Thorn was right when he called you a born diplomatist. But I hope you remember my words of warning when you arrived here.”

  “I do not interfere in native politics, I assure you. The gift was merely a courtesy.”

  “A somewhat overgenerous one.” The Resident’s tone was cold. “Unless it was in anticipation of favours to come. But I assure you that Ghulam Kasim’s prospects of succeeding to the gaddi in the event of the Nawab’s demise are illusory. The Nawabzada will succeed him in the right and proper, and legal, manner.”

  “Like all of us British in a native state, I am a mere spectator: whatever my personal views. I would like to say, however, that the decision on who succeeds the Nawab may prove to rest in the hands of the Imam and of popular opinion,” Ramsey said.

  They had not long rejoined the ladies in the drawing-room, where Ivy was being noisily cheerful while the others were frigidly silent, when the butler came in, went up to the Resident and spoke in an undertone.

  Carter said something to him and then raised his voice. “I am sorry to interrupt you, Mrs. Owthwaite. Ramsey, one of your servants has come with a message. I have given orders for him to come to the front veranda.”

  Ramsey excused himself and hurried out of the room.

  Sher Mahommed Khan saluted. “Sahib, there has been a fire. Your go-down has been burned to the ground. Everything inside was destroyed.”

  *

  The Resident bore Ramsey no malice but was thankful for any event which ridded him immediately of his guests. He was always eager to see the Owthwaites go and tonight he had an urgent letter to write.

  He hastened to his office and within two hours it was in the pouch carried by a harkara, one of the mail runners who had been carrying the posts across India, in eight-mile stages, for 34 years.

  The harkara was accompanied by two torch-bearers, whose smokey, resinous brands cast jiggling pools of light on the dusty earth as the men jogged across plain and jungle. By day or night the harkara would be accompanied by a drummer when he had to traverse tiger country. There was a drummer with him when he left the Residency. Four miles beyond the city they would enter a dangerous tract of rocky gullies and scrub. In the worst areas, two archers gave protection in case the drum and the torches did not scare wild beasts away. Two archers set off with the harkara, the drummer and the torch-bearers when they trotted out of the Residency gates. They were safe from robbers. No one ever robbed the mails, for the runners never carried valuables.

  The Resident stood on the veranda and watched them go. His thoughts were quite untouched by any romantic image of a secure chain of communication that stretched all the way to Calcutta and by the perils which this harkara and every other to whom the pouch would be handed on had to face. The presence of a drummer or a bright, flaring light did not always frighten off tiger, leopard or panther. Nobody could ever be sure that any eight-mile stage allegedly safe would not at some moment of some day or night attract a wandering man-eater.

  The humble mail-runner represented the Post Office Department of India. His protectors would not desert him in a moment of danger.

  The Resident went to bed knowing that his letter would reach Government House in two weeks: by a route much more direct than road and river, and by feet that were fleeter than cart or boat.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Ramsey returned from viewing the ashes of his stock among the charred rubble of the still smouldering go-down, he was surprised to see Whittaker’s pony trap on the drive. The agreeable aroma of bay rum and good cigars that always heralded Whittaker met him as he climbed the veranda steps. “It was good of you to come at this late hour, Henry.”

  “My dear boy, we are partners, are we not?”

  “All the same, there was no need for Sher Mahommed Khan to send word to you at this hour of the evening.”

  “He did quite right.”

  “In any event, the loss of stock is my responsibility alone.”

  “That may be so, but our future fortunes are bound together; so I came to see if I could help in any way. Did you lose everything?”

  “Yes.”

  Ramsey threw himself into a cane chair and drank from the glass of brandy
and water Karim Baksh put into his hand. “Was it arson?”

  “So it seems.”

  “Who bears you such a strong grudge?”

  “In this country it is not necessarily a grudge. It could be for some devious reason that most Europeans would find incredible.”

  “And in this context, that includes Americans, I guess.”

  “Sorry. I have got into the habit.”

  “I know what you mean. What about grudges?”

  “None I can think of. Surely the Nawab, even in his most drunken, drugged fit, wouldn’t resent my meeting Ghulam Kasim to that extent.”

  “I suppose he does know?”

  “You can be sure of that. As for any more devious reason: the Nawab is the only one I can think of, again. I didn’t mention it to you, but he suggested I would make a better Military Adviser than Owthwaite. I demurred. He is in the habit of getting what he wants. He’s capable of ruining me like this just so that I will be glad to take the appointment.”

  “You really think it could be that?”

  “No. If he had made up his mind he was going to force the job on me, he’d have had my go-down destroyed and Owthwaite murdered! Owthwaite was alive and well just over an hour ago: he dined at the Residency also.”

  “That’s no guarantee he’s alive now or will be tomorrow.” Whittaker said it with a grimace.

  “You’re learning fast.”

  But, Ramsey told himself, Whittaker’s remark was not pure cynicism. He could not tell Whittaker what Owthwaite had revealed at the Resident’s table. The Nawab wanted his own way in all matters. If he was eager to attack Karampur, it was hardly in character to accept Owthwaite’s counsel of prudence. He might have pretended to agree to hold his hand and let Karampur make the first move; arranged Ramsey’s financial dilemma; and intended to dismiss Owthwaite and appoint Ramsey, on condition that he attacked Karampur at once.

  A man could drive himself out of his mind trying to work out all the possible machinations of an intriguer like the Nawab, Ramsey told himself. It was best not to try.

  “Let me take you up on something. You said you’re ruined. You aren’t ruined, Hugh. How long do you have before you must pay MacLean?”

  “Five months.”

  “What can he do if you can’t pay on time?”

  “While I’m not in British territory, nothing. If I returned to Calcutta or went to Bombay or Madras, he could have me jailed for debt: but that wouldn’t get him his money. Anyway, that is not the point. If I cannot meet my obligation I shall be dishonoured. That is not only personally impossible to accept, but it would also be the end of my career in India.”

  “Not in the native states, surely?”

  “The Honourable Company has ways and means of having British citizens expelled from native states. Then they have nowhere to go but one of the Presidencies. And if they are in disgrace, there is no place for them there.”

  “So we have five months in which to succeed in one of our joint enterprises.”

  “It may seem a long time in America or Europe, but here, where people procrastinate over every issue and decision, and where they go back on their word as lightly as they give it, it is barely enough time to achieve any of our objectives and make enough profit from it to enable me to pay MacLean on time.”

  “He’s a businessman. As long as you can pay him something and show him you’re good for the rest in a reasonable time, he’ll be satisfied. He’ll charge you interest, of course. But you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

  “I shall have a lot to worry about if I can’t pay on the nail. I shall have failed to keep my promise.”

  Whittaker sighed. He looked resigned and sorely tried. “Young fellow, Constance was right. You and my daughter do have a lot in common. She can be as doggone stubborn as a Missouri mule; and so, it seems, can you.” He raised a hand as Ramsey was about to retort. “Wait a minute. From what you’ve told me, the arrangement MacLean made with you is about as unfair and inequitable as I have ever heard of. If you had come here as his formal business partner, he would have borne half the risk. But, it seems, just on account of some trivial quarrel, he reneged on the deal he had originally offered you. He took advantage of you because he knew your character and he knew you hadn’t the means to do other than accept. So he drove a hard bargain with you that would make Shylock look like a philanthropist. Only someone as fiercely proud as you are would have reacted the way you did to the provocation Pocock gave you in his presence or that he gave you himself, or to his offer of an agency instead of a proper partnership. As far as I can see, the guy is a common swindler.” He stood up. “That’s a hell of a long speech. Too long to inflict on anyone who has just had his warehouse burned out. But, believe me, I only have your best interests at heart. We shall talk some more tomorrow. Come round in the morning.”

  *

  In ten minutes Ramsey had shed his European clothes and donned Pathan guise. With it he metaphorically changed his skin as well. He literally changed his attitude of mind. As soon as he was in a tonga, rattling, jingling and lurching towards the chakla, his troubles waned because he looked at them differently. Rising excitement at the knowledge that he would presently be alone with Shakuntala did more to mitigate his problems.

  He arrived while she and the other three girls were in the middle of a dance. The girl who welcomed him at the door recognised him and gave him an exaggerated Namaste accompanied by a smile that was full of mischief and invitation. He joked with her while she led him to an alcove and poured sherbet for him. He saw the joy on Shakuntala’s face when her eyes lit on him.

  When the dance was done and she came to join him, she drew the curtains closed and as they settled into one another’s embrace she said “That is the end of my dancing for tonight.”

  It was also the beginning and the end of their conversation for a while. Later, when they talked, it was to the accompaniment of music, songs and the jingling of the other girls’ anklets, the rattle of their castanets, muffled by the thick curtains.

  “I intended to visit you tomorrow: I have heard about the fire.”

  “Have you heard if anyone was seen to set light to the go-down?”

  She teased him. “Is that why you came? To seek information?”

  “You know why I came.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Because I could not keep away.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “Because...” But did he?

  “Because you love me?”

  “Yes.” He could say it: there were many ways in which to mean it.

  “Two men were seen. Strangers to the quarter. There was a reliable man here, earlier this evening, a merchant, who has a go-down in the same street. He was there late, taking delivery of some bales that had just come from the serai. He saw one of the men loitering as though keeping watch. Then the fire broke out.”

  “Was he speaking the truth or seeking to arouse interest?”

  “He speaks the truth. We know him well. He comes here twice a week to be with one of my girls. You know her: she came with me, it is Azizun.”

  “He did not say any more about them?”

  “They were Muslims.”

  “And he is a Hindu, I suppose?”

  “No, doubting one, he too is a Muslim.”

  “Strangers in that quarter?”

  “Yes. But not to Azizun’s friend.”

  “You little devil. Why didn’t you say so at once?”

  “Because I have learned your ways, my beloved.” She laughed at him. “Step by step; not as we people do, all in a rush.”

  “If they were strangers in the quarter, they might have gone there specially to do this thing.”

  “Azizun’s friend is a cousin of Anwar Ali, the taluqdar who...”

  “I know Anwar Ali. I talked with him in Calcutta at the office of my business associate. I know what a reputation he has here for disputing the taxes. Are you telling me that this friend of Azizun’s is Anwar Ali’s cousin, as a test
imonial? That it means I can trust what he says?”

  “No. Anwar Ali is a rogue. But his cousin is an honest man; believe me. I am telling you that this witness is Anwar Ali’s cousin, because he recognised the men whom he thinks set fire to your property. They are two zamindar who rent their land from Anwar Ali and are in his debt. They owe him money. He was threatening to have them beaten and driven off their farms.”

  *

  Whittaker was forthright in his view of the incident. As, Ramsey had learned early in their acquaintanceship, he was direct in all matters. “It looks like Anwar Ali gave those two zamindars the choice between being kicked off their land or burning down your store-room. And I’m beginning to see why he’d want to do that.”

  “Which is more than I can. To me, it’s as clear as mud.”

  “I am going to tell you what is in my mind, although it might offend you. There isn’t enough evidence yet, so I’m only surmising. But you’re looking at it from a soldier’s point of view and judging it by your standards of honesty and behaviour... honour. I see it with a businessman’s eyes. And although I admit I am baffled by the way an Indian would think, I do not believe there is any difference between the way a devious American’s mind and a devious Britisher’s mind works.”

  “What has that to do with Anwar Ali bullying two of his debtors into committing a crime against me? Why would he wish to do me any harm? I have never harmed him. I am on intimate terms with Ghulam Kasim, who is known to be his friend. If Ghulam Kasim ever became Nawab, Anwar Ali could expect many favours from him. Why would he prejudice that? If it came out that he had deliberately tried to ruin me, he would incur Ghulam Kasim’s enmity. Ghulam Kasim is a man who places great store on loyalty. He looked on my father as a kind of uncle when he was younger. To an Indian of his heredity and character, when he calls me ‘brother’ he means it literally.”