The struggle with France and Clive’s activities had changed the Company from a great organisation concerned only with trade to one also responsible for the administration of vast territories. The Company had not sought, and was actually averse to assuming, such responsibilities, and the majority of its Servants were unsuited, by habits they had already acquired, to be trusted with such work.
Those habits arose from the fact that the Company paid its Servants hopelessly inadequate salaries, compensating them with the right to trade on their own account, and that in the East immemorial custom decreed that anyone who benefited from a transaction should give the other party to it a present. Mir Jafer, for example, on being placed by the British on the throne of Bengal, had distributed among Clive and his officers half-a-million pounds. Later Clive had been called to account by Parliament. His reaction had been to protest that he stood astonished that he had been content with such a modest sum, and Parliament, knowing the circumstances, unanimously acquitted him of having used his power to enrich himself unreasonably. But, now that the Servants of the Company; great and small, had become officials with such wide powers of patronage, they proceeded to use them most unscrupulously.
Stories came home to England of Indian merchants and land-owners being blackmailed and otherwise oppressed. Such tales were soon followed by an influx of middle-class and often vulgar Servants of the Company who had brought home fortunes, were termed in no friendly spirit ‘Nabobs’, and whose ostentation gave considerable offence in the country areas where they bought properties from the worse-off of the old land-owning class. The misery of the Indian people had been further increased in 1770 by the most terrible famine on record, and hundreds of influential people in Britain were agitating for their interests to be protected.
This national outcry led to the Regulating Act of 1773, by which the Company’s nominee for Governor-General had to be approved by Government and, although given authority over Madras and Bombay as well as Calcutta, his every act had to receive the sanction of a Council, a majority of whom could, if they disagreed with his policy, obstruct it with a veto. The Act also created a High Court of Justice to which Indians could appeal without fear that it would favour the Company, since its Judges were responsible only to the Home Government.
This was the first shackle put upon the complete independence of the Company, and it fell heaviest on Warren Hastings, whom they had appointed as Governor of Bengal the previous year. Hastings was a man of integrity, vision and vigour, but he was faced with the still unsettled state of India and the competing ambitions of its many Princes.
The Marathas, who had combined under the Peshwa at Poona, were again in control in the north at Delhi. To the east of it an Afghan chief had usurped the throne of Rohilkhand and was threatening Oudh. In the west, owing to a trade route dispute, the Marathas were threatening Bombay. In the south Hyderabad had become hostile to the Company and the throne of Mysore had been seized by a Mohammedan adventurer named Hyder Ali, who threatened to, and later did, overrun the Carnatic.
The new Council consisted of five members: Hastings, who was its chairman, Barwell, a Senior Servant who understood the problems of the Company and so loyally supported Hastings, and three nominees of Parliament whose ignorance of India was such that, on landing in Calcutta, they thought that because the natives had bare feet it was because the Company had inflicted taxes so crushing upon them that they could no longer afford boots. Led by Philip Francis, the newcomers at once adopted a line of violent opposition to Hastings, and by their majority in Council consistently thwarted his attempts to bring order out of chaos.
For two years his position was made intolerable, then one of Francis’s supporters died, giving Hastings control through his casting vote as chairman. But the bitter struggle continued for another four years until Francis, after having been wounded in a duel by Hastings, went home.
During those years Britain had become involved in war with her American Colonists, France, Holland and Spain, and once more events in Europe had their repercussions in India. Athough Britain’s enemies could no longer put an army in the field there, they could still stimulate avaricious Princes to take up arms against the Company, and Hastings had to wage wars aganst the Marathas who menaced Bombay, the Rohillas in support of Britain’s ally Oudh, and Hyder Ali the bold usurper of the throne of Mysore. With the aid of three fine soldiers. General Sir Eyre Coote and Colonels Goddard and Popham, all three wars were won, and by brilliant diplomacy Hastings secured the paramountcy of the Company over vast areas of India.
But the wars had to be paid for. The Company grudged every penny spent on military operations and, owing to many years of rapacity and mismanagement by its Servants, its funds had dwindled alarmingly. The war in America and Europe had strained the resources of the Government at home to such a point that it could not afford to give help. So Hastings had to find the money himself. He found it in the only way possible for him: by withholding subsidies the Company had contracted to pay to certain potentates whose friendship was now doubtful, and by extracting great sums from the Indian allies whose territories he was protecting.
In 1873 a general peace was agreed by the Powers. The following year young Mr. Pitt, who had recently become Prime Minister, put through Parliament his India Act. Its object was to put an end to corrupt and arbitrary administration by the Company’s Servants. In effect, Parliament took over the responsibility for ruling all areas that were, or should come, under British control. An India Board was created with Dundas as its President, and for the future the Company was required to frame its policy, and nominate its senior Servants, in consultation with the Board. Thus after two hundred years the Company finally lost all power in India other than its trading monopoly.
In the teeth of extraordinary difficulties, Hastings had already introduced many of the reforms which were the object of Pitt’s Bill. He was the best friend that the people of India ever had, and he laid the foundations for the just and honourable administration of the Indian Civil Service which, in the following century, did so much to develop the country and bring western civilisation to it.
But in 1784 he returned home to be met with ingratitude and obloquy. With almost unbelievable venom his old enemy Francis stirred up Parliament against him. He was made the scapegoat for his corrupt predecessors and colleagues, and impeached. Burke, the most brilliant orator of the day, had taken up the cause of the oppressed people of India and hurled invective at him. Fox and Sheridan resorted to every mean trick their excellent intelligences could devise to pull him down.
The trial dragged on for seven years. Every act of Hastings during his fourteen years of administration was gone into minutely in the hope of finding evidence of his corruption. The main charges concerned his conduct in connection with the Rohilla war, and the way in which he had raised money for that and other wars, particularly his extraction of a large sum from Chait Singh, the Rajah of Benares, and his attempts to secure from the Begums of Oudh a million pounds that these two Princesses had been left by the late Nawab of that country. At last he was acquitted on all charges and, although his defence had cost him his fortune, the Company supported him in his old age. In 1813, at the age of 81, he was called on to give evidence before Parliament on a matter concerning India. The House then did him the honour of receiving him standing and bareheaded.
Hastings was succeeded by Lord Cornwallis, another honourable and intelligent Governor, who was also a fine soldier. He did much to strengthen and improve upon Hastings’ wise measures for the administration of the British controlled territories; but, like his predecessor, he was not left to do so in peace. Hyder Ali’s son, Tipoo Sahib, launched his warrior hordes from Mysore, first against his neighbours to the north, then against Travancore, a small state in the south-west which was in alliance with Britain. Cornwallis came to the rescue, Tipoo Sahib was defeated and compelled to surrender a great part of his territories.
In 1793 Cornwallis was succeeded by Sir John Shore, an able ci
vilian who had been in the Company’s service for a quarter of a century. Wars were still going on in the north and west. An Afghan adventurer seized the throne in Delhi, the Maratha Princes were fighting among themselves, and the Maharaja of Sindhia was involved in a long conflict with the Rajputs. But Sir John Shore was a man of peace and, as British territory was not actually threatened, he refused to allow himself to be drawn into any of these struggles.
That was still the situation in July 1796, so the company aboard the Minerva had every reason to hope that when they landed in Calcutta they would not be met with the news of any fresh alarms and excursions.
Clarissa played well the part assigned to her by Roger. Although like everyone else, she knew the main trend that events in India had taken, she lost no suitable opportunity when they met at meals of asking questions about Clive and Hastings, its more recent wars, Calcutta and Madras, its Princes and peoples, religions, jungles, animals and flowers.
Her principal informant was Mr. Sidney Winters. He was a big, paunchy man just on the right side of fifty. Most of his life had been spent in India and he was the senior partner of a Calcutta firm which, under the Company’s licence, had grown and prospered with the years. His hair was grey, his face florid, and he carried his large stomach on two absurdly short legs; but he had a pleasant disposition and, while not an educated man in the same sense as Sir Curtis Beaumont or Mr. Cruishank, there was nothing about India that he did not know. He delighted in drawing on this bottomless fund of knowledge for Clarissa and, as she was genuinely interested, at times she even made him come and sit with her up on deck, to the annoyance of the little group of beaux who constantly pursued her.
Of these, the Honourable Gerald Keeble had a big advantage, as he also sat at the Commander’s table; but Clarissa was inclined to prefer Robert Mclvor, a young Scot who by patronage of Dundas was being sent out to fill an administrative post—because he had more brains—and Mr. Fenton, of the 61st Foot—because he had a readier sense of humour. A heavy featured Captain of Dragoons and a wiry little Lt-Colonel from the Ordnance Department made up her regular court, but a number of others were generally hovering in the offing.
With regard to Roger himself, she also played her part well—almost too well he was inclined to think as the voyage progressed. It was one thing that she should never permit her glance to linger on him with any hint of more than a niece’s affection, but another that she hardly spoke to him unless he first addressed her. It was not that she was deliberately rude to him, but she was so fully occupied talking to other men; and his situation made it impossible for him to appear a competitor for her interest or company.
As a means of keeping his mind off her, he determined to learn Persian. That was then the diplomatic language of India and spoken at all its Courts; so, even during the brief stay he contemplated, he thought it might come in useful if he visited any of them. Warren Hastings, himself a fine Persian scholar, had initiated and encouraged the study, by Servants of the Company, of languages used in India; so Roger had no difficulty in finding among those aboard the Minerva one who could speak Persian fluently. He was a middle-aged man named James Griffin and under his tuition Roger, having a flair for languages, was soon making good progress.
As far as the weather was concerned, they were remarkably fortunate. After they had been at sea a week, they met with one bad patch which, for a few days, caused them a certain amount of discomfort and resulted in a sharp decline in the variety of the dishes served at dinner; but it was not anything approaching a tempest, and Roger succeeded in stalling off his dreaded seasickness. After calling at Madeira, they picked up the South-West Trades, to be wafted by them right across the Atlantic and over the Equator till they sighted Cape St. Roque, the westernmost point of Brazil.
When they crossed the Line, several sailors disguised as King Neptune and his Court clambered up over the ship’s side and the usual ceremonies, followed by much rough horseplay, were performed. As similar rites were customary in ships sailing to the West Indies on crossing the Tropic of Cancer, Roger had already ‘met’ Neptune; so he was not expected either to participate or to exercise his privilege as a first-class passenger of paying a forfeit to be excused a ducking. All the same, he made the Sea King a handsome present, and was given a front row seat to watch the fun.
As was almost always the case with East India convoys, when they reached the neighbourhood of Cape St. Roque they lay for some days almost completely becalmed. It was intolerably hot; so much so that the pitch became soft in the caulking of the upper decks and their planks so roasting that even the sailors, with their hardened feet, could not bear to walk about them for any length of time without shoes. Normally, the crew and the troops slept in hammocks, slung head to tail, and so close together that they resembled sardines in a tin; so, even at the best of times, their quarters were terribly overcrowded. Now, the greater part of them slept near naked on deck and the passengers, in their stifling cabins, envied them.
As long as the Minerva was becalmed, her boats were kept lowered, tow ropes were attached to all of them and relays of the crew laboured at their oars, dragging the heavy ship a mile or so an hour while her sails hung slack but still set to catch the faintest puff of breeze. For ten days, with the sweat running from them at every movement, the passengers and crew endured this inferno; then at last the South-East Trades picked up the ship and life aboard once more became livable.
Cape Town was their next scheduled port of call, but again, by custom dictated by the prevailing winds, the convoy did not head straight for it. Instead, it let the Trades carry it in a great sweep far to the south of the tip of Africa and some way round the corner, until it reached the ‘roaring forties’; only then did it turn north-west in the direction of the port.
It was now early September and so on the verge of spring in the Southern Hemisphere. This saved them from the winter gales they might otherwise have encountered; although the climate had become chilly compared with that to which for so many weeks they had been accustomed. But it was still warm enough to spend long hours sitting about the deck, and the competition for a place near Clarissa showed no signs of lessening.
Lady Beaumont had long proclaimed her to be the ‘dearest girl’ and she certainly gave no trouble to her chaperone by being discovered with chosen admirers on deck after lights out at night, or being found in other such compromising situations. For that Roger had little doubt about the reason, and now and then he felt a cynical satisfaction in the knowledge that he had only to say the word for her to brush aside all her beaux and come running to his arms.
Yet that was a poor compensation for the fact that, except at table, he hardly had a word with her. Her face, now tanned by the sun and framed in her pale gold hair, which had grown again, was more than ever lovely to look at, and he knew her to be an intelligent and charming companion. Through the long weeks of his automatic exclusion from her playtime circle, he had gradually developed a sub-conscious jealousy of the men she favoured with her smiles, and he even envied old Sydney Winters the tête-à-têtes she still accorded him now and then to natter to her about India.
The Cape was barely half-way to Calcutta; so there were at least another two months to go before there could be any change in their relationship and, even then, the final result of any such change provoked speculations about which he did not care to think. He only knew that being within sight of her nearly all of every day, yet debarred from the friendly intimacy they had previously enjoyed, made him see her differently and had immensely increased his desire for her.
At dinner on the 10th September, Captain Finch told them that he estimated the Minerva now to be no more than forty-eight hours out of Cape Town. That evening, about nine o’clock, the portly Mr. Winters came up to Roger in the saloon and asked him if he would favour him with a short conversation up on deck. Somewhat surprised, but by no means averse to a breath of fresh air, Roger agreed; so the two men collected their cloaks and met again at the top of the hatchway.
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After they had covered a few paces side by side, Winters said: ‘I understand that we shall reach Cape Town the day after tomorrow; and I owe you a sincere apology, Mr. Brook, but he replied politely, ‘No matter, Sir. Be kind enough to inform me of it.’
‘It is,’ Winters coughed, then went on suddenly, ‘a formal request that you will permit me to pay my addresses to your niece.’
The idea seemed so preposterous that Roger did not take it seriously. Swiftly suppressing a desire to laugh, and wishing to let the elderly merchant down lightly, he said: ‘Your proposal being an honourable one, I feel sure Miss Marsham will be flattered by it; but before replying to your request, I must speak to her on the matter.’
Winters coughed again, then said hurriedly, ‘You must be aware, Sir, that during the voyage, I have spent many hours in conversation with Miss Marsham. I had no intention of marrying again, but I have found her such a paragon of virtue, sensibility and charm that I can now think of no greater bliss than to make her Mrs. Winters. I should add that I am in a position to support her, even to the extent of providing her with every reasonable luxury.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Roger now spoke a shade testily. ‘But you must forgive me for pointing out, Sir, that attentions of the kind you have in mind from a gentleman so much her senior might prove unwelcome to her.’
‘It was with reference to that, Sir, that I made you an apology. As Miss Marsham and I conversed we became ever more fully aware of the similarity of our feelings upon a great variety of subjects. Almost with …’
‘I pray you do not build false hopes on that,’ Roger cut in.
Ignoring his remark, Winters continued. ‘Almost unrealised by me, a point was reached at which, without awaiting your consent, I laid my heart and fortune at her feet.’
Roger halted in his tracks. Only the darkness hid his expression of swift apprehension. After a moment he regained sufficient control over himself to ask in a normal voice, ‘What reply did she make to your proposal?’
The Rape of Venice Page 15
