Raging Rajahs (Man of Conflict Series, Book 2)

by Andrew Wareham

  Septimus was upset and could see the tenor of his life being disturbed for weeks; he was not in the mood for mercy, still less for compassion.

  “So, Mr Sawbridge, let us clarify this matter. It will be as well to be quite certain of the facts. You were present together with Mr Marriott and Mr Coates at a ‘dancing house’ in the native town. The Peacock of the Empire, one understands it to be called. Others of the regiment were present but chose to leave at an earlier hour. Correct, so far, sir?”

  The lieutenant was stood at attention in front of the desk, had been given no permission to stand at ease; he was sweating, aware that Major Pearce held his future in his hands. They looked unforgiving hands just at the moment. The Provost Captain stood to one side had a very unpleasant expression too.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “In common with all such establishments, the dancing girls habitually prostitute themselves, I am told.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The two officers in your company permitted themselves to be taken upstairs by partners of their choice and you remained alone at your table, drinking to excess.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You were approached then by an older female who enquired whether you had other tastes and you assaulted her. You struck her across the face.”

  “She dared suggest that I would desire the company of a boy, sir! I considered myself entitled to rebuke her!”

  Septimus noted that he normally considered a rebuke to take the form of words.

  “A number of Indian men then appeared and placed you under restraint before manhandling you to the doors. Outside, in the roadway, in full public view, you abused them and shouted and made threats. You said, in fact, that you would bring ‘your men’ and burn them out. A provost patrol then came on the scene, ascertained you to be drunk and brought you away, still demanding that the Indians be taken up and beaten or imprisoned.”

  Sawbridge made no response.

  “The provosts brought you back to the cantonment, sir, and proposed to take you to their Guard Room. You then demanded to be immediately released, insisting that they had no right to lay hands upon you. You struck a corporal and a private soldier, sir, before being forcibly placed into a cell.”

  Silence.

  “Is that correct, Mr Sawbridge?”

  “They had no right to place me under restraint! I am a gentleman, sir, and am not to be manhandled by the common ruck!”

  “Thank you for explaining that to me. You will return to your quarters and remain there, under arrest, sir. Should you venture outside of that honourable detention then I shall see you manacled in a cell in our own Guard Room, sir. You are dismissed!”

  Septimus waited until Sawbridge had left, then turned to the Provost Captain.

  “I must speak to my colonel, Captain Wade, but I see little alternative to a court-martial. ‘Conduct unbecoming to an Officer and a Gentleman’ is the very least charge I can imagine. He struck Other Ranks!”

  Wade shook his head; he was unused to arresting officers, was dismayed that he had been forced to.

  “He broke the nose of the private soldier, sir.”

  “What of the Indian female?”

  Wade had made no attempt to discover her well-being.

  “We must at minimum offer her payment in compensation. The regiment can deal with that, if you are willing, Captain Wade. What have you to say of the charge to be laid?”

  “A count of assault upon a private soldier would be possible, sir. The Brigadier might well expect such a charge – he has a great down on misconduct by officers.”

  “We will be forced to discuss the whole affair with him before calling for a Court. Will you wish to be present at our meeting, sir?”

  Wade was happy that the Hampshires should try to keep the affair as quiet as was possible. Scandal reflected upon every white man in the end – their whole presence in India was based upon their adhering to standards of a higher morality than the natives achieved.

  “Thank you, Captain Wade. Please be assured that I have no intention of permitting this unpleasant gentleman to walk away from this affair. I will not wish to see him encouraged simply to send his papers in.”

  Colonel Horncastle wanted no court-martial of any officer of his – it would reflect so badly upon them all. Better far to hush it up.

  “I doubt it can be done, sir. Sawbridge chose to punch a private soldier in a public place, in full view of a dozen others passing by. The word is already out, sir.”

  “Then we must speak to the Brigadier, Major Pearce. He must be consulted prior to calling court-martial on an officer.”

  Brigadier Cholmondely – pronounced ‘Chumley’, Horncastle had warned Septimus – had, naturally, heard rumour of the scandal in the Hampshires’ midst. He listened in silence to Horncastle’s exposition of the nasty affair and satisfied himself that it fitted with all he had been told.

  “Slapping the Indian woman was unpleasant, but one can hardly call a court-martial for that, I think! Striking a private soldier with his fist is so far beyond the pale as to be almost unbelievable. And a corporal, though hitting him less severely. There is no alternative to a court-martial. The sole question is of the set of charges, colonel.”

  They sat with a copy of the military code and then called for the advice of the Advocate-General. In the end they decided that a count of ‘Conduct Unbecoming’ would cover the lesser attack upon the corporal and the public drunkenness in the native town; the hurt caused to the private soldier was such that there had to be a charge of assault, even though it could carry a death penalty.

  The Court-Martial sat within days – they did not want to have the business hanging around, casting a shade on their everyday life.

  Five officers, all senior to Sawbridge, were selected from the Major-General’s staff. They could not be taken from the ranks of the Hampshires and it was better that they should not come from another marching regiment and cause a possible resentment.

  Septimus spoke with Marriott before the trial, enquiring just why Sawbridge had been with them if he had not intended to avail himself of the services of the dancing girls.

  “I cannot guess, sir. Yet I have to say that I have never known him to do so, which is unusual in any of the unmarried officers. I will confess that I have had my suspicions of his tastes, sir, but I have never seen him to make use of the boys who are quite equally available. I repeat, sir, I cannot understand what his… difficulties, shall we say, may be.”

  “Do not speculate in court, I beg of you, sir. We have no wish to create a scandal – that is no more than we already have!”

  Septimus called Cooper to escort him and made his way to the Peacock of the Empire. He sat at a table and called for tea, just as readily available as alcohol and somewhat safer in quality. The girl who served him spoke no English but sent a man who did – the money in the pockets of the officers meant that any drinking house or brothel could always speak to them.

  “A lady of this house was attacked by one of my officers, I believe.”

  “Yes, sahib.”

  “Is it possible to speak to her?”

  It was.

  A forty-year old, retired from a more active role in her profession, came to the table. Her face was still bruised across one cheek.

  Septimus stood and nodded to her.

  “I must apologise, ma’am, for the actions of my officer. That he was drunk is no excuse. He faces trial for his actions of that night, and will be punished if he is found guilty.”

  “Guilty of an attack upon an Indian woman, Major?”

  Septimus was taken by surprise that she spoke clear English, had to think for a few seconds. She forestalled his obvious question.

  “I was mistress to a Senior Writer of the Company for many years, Major. He was not ungenerous when he returned to England.”

  “Then you will know, ma’am, that I could not make any charge against an English officer for less than murder of an Indian woman.”

 
She shrugged. He was saying nothing new.

  “I came here to offer an apology, ma’am, that an officer of mine could behave in such a fashion. I had thought of offering money as well, but suspect that might be an offensive act.”

  “The Peacock is a profitable place, Major – I probably have more money than you. But it was an honest thought. Had I been one of the girls and unable to earn a living while I was disfigured, then it would have been a right and proper act. What will happen to your lieutenant, sir?”

  “I do not know – I am not yet used to the ways of the Army in India.”

  She accepted his honesty – much would depend on the officers who made up the court. Some might be inclined to cover up; others would be of a moralistic, crusading mentality.

  “Had Sawbridge been here before, ma’am?”

  “Twice, but never going with a girl. I watched him during the dancing and it was not the girls he was looking at. I suspect he will not admit to himself what he is by nature.”

  “Poor man! So many of that kind will not let themselves be known, it seems. I know of more than one officer of that inclination, the most of them good fighting soldiers, too. I wonder why it breaks the mind of the few?”

  She neither knew nor cared, wished only that it had not broken her face.

  The court was obviously manned by moralists on this occasion, Sawbridge guilty as charged and sentenced to be dismissed from the service, cashiered – the price of his commission lost to him - and told that he was fortunate not to stare a firing-squad in the eye.

  Major Horncastle was despairing.

  “Formal, public slighting of his honour as a gentleman, Major Pearce. The Brigadier will accept no less, despite my request to him. I hoped to simply turn the man away, but must preside at the punishment parade, Major Pearce.”

  “You must, sir, but I shall make all of the arrangements. He is – was – one of my people.”

  Septimus made enquiry of the various merchants in Bombay, discovered a country ship sailing for Cape Town within the week, booked a cabin upon her. He would ensure Sawbridge was deposited aboard her; he could organise his own passage from Cape Town, or jump overboard beforehand if he preferred; what he did as soon as he was out of Bombay was his business.

  He paid a visit to Sawbridge - now confined in the Guard Room, being a convict – and extracted the cost of his cabin from him. He took the adjutant with him and left him to arrange the closure of all Sawbridge’s financial affairs in Bombay – he wanted no loose ends, no debts to suddenly be brought to the regiment’s attention.

  The punishment parade was held in early morning, in the cool. The regiment drew up, five companies strong and flanked by a battalion of Company foot to make up the numbers to a respectable level. The Indian privates and non-commissioned officers, referred to as sepoys, stared openly at the white sahib as he was brought to justice; their own officers, all British kept their eyes away, embarrassed. The colonel read out the verdict of the court and then Sawbridge was brought in front of the parade to the tune of a single drum for the application of his sentence. He marched out proudly enough then flinched in horror as he saw sepoys watching him. He tried to cover his face and turn away from them but was held ruthlessly upright by the escort from his own company.

  Colonel Horncastle read aloud the charges of which he had been convicted and informed the parade that ‘the man Sawbridge’ was no longer a member of the regiment and might not wear its honourable dress.

  The drummer boys of the battalion, many of them actually grown men, ripped off his epaulettes and the regimental buttons on his tunic. The thread had been half-cut before he came on parade so as not to tear his uniform to shreds. His sword was taken from him and was ceremoniously snapped – the blade again sawn almost through in advance. He was then ordered out of the gate, the bandsmen behind beating out the pace of the Rogue’s March as he was drummed out of the regiment in the most traditional fashion. He was in tears well before he was outside and in the hands of the provosts waiting for him.

  Septimus watched as the broken ex-officer was bundled into a carriage already laden with his personal possessions and was driven down to the beach where a surf-boat was waiting.

  “A sad sight to see a man humiliated so, sir!”

  “Had he been a ranker, Mr Taft, he would have hanged in all probability. At minimum he would have received a thousand and then would have been thrown out of the gate to make his own way as he could – and that would have been a death sentence, too! He should be counting his blessings, sir!”

  “You have no sympathy for him, sir?”

  “None, Mr Taft – he broke the code, sir! The men may be punished and forgiven. An officer can expect no redemption in this life.”

  One of Taft’s subalterns was shifted across to take Sawbridge’s place and Grundy was made up to lieutenant, without purchase, as was easily arranged on foreign posting. Grundy would have no entitlement to half-pay on stepping down from service with the battalion – that was reserved to officers who had purchased – but at the end of their posting he would be encouraged to transfer to the Company’s armies or civilian posts rather than return to England. Most ranker officers chose to remain overseas rather than go to the expense of a posting in England and the Company, which paid far higher than the Army, recruited a number of its Collectors and its police and other functionaries from them in addition to army officers. It was the case as well that a Mess in India could ignore the birth of its ranker officers while in England being acutely embarrassed by them.

  D Company rapidly became the smartest and most efficient of Septimus’ five, rather to his surprise and much to his pleasure. Taft himself became no more military-looking, but he did his best and at least remembered to keep his back straight and stand as an officer should – sufficient for the needs of the parade ground.

  Marianne came to her time and produced a son, not without difficulty, she being a small lady and the boy, Jonathan George, a ten-pounder, but all ended well and there was a degree of rejoicing in the cantonment, Septimus by now being generally respected, even if less than well-loved.

  Before the end of the Dry Season the Pearces received invitations to dinners with Company officials. Enquiry disclosed that it was rare for officers to be brought into society in Bombay in a shorter time – they were given the opportunity to demonstrate their fitness to mix with the genteel first.

  “One must remember, Major Pearce, that the merchant classes here form the peak of society, and are jealous of that fact. They may often demand a greater degree of conventional gentility than the aristocracy might in London, for having more to prove. A six month voyage from England tends to isolate them from the real gentlefolk; very few of the Upper Ten Thousand are to be found in India. The Governors of the Presidencies and the Governor-General himself may be of the aristocracy – though even that not always – and a number of King’s officers are second and third sons of lords, but other than that the ruling groups here are drawn from the County at best, and often from the middle order of people, the sons of rectors and attorneys and doctors. Having risen to the top, they must demonstrate themselves to be the cream, sir!”

  Colonel Horncastle, son of a baronet, regarded this as a witty comment. Septimus saw it as a sensible reality.

  On the appointed afternoon Septimus accompanied Marianne in their carriage – he still did not think of it as a gharry, he had not been out long enough to pick up the leavening of Hindi words that distinguished the old hands. They travelled the mile to the vast bungalow of Mr Edwin Carruthers, a Senior Writer by rank and one of the most eminent of Company officials by appointment. The colonel, also to be present, had identified Carruthers as a two thousand pounds a year man and with the right to forty cubic yards each convoy.

  “Hold space, Major Pearce, for free. He will purchase silks and ivories and possibly gemstones during the year and consign them to an agent in London on the annual convoy. If he cannot see two hundred pounds a yard in profit he will be most upset! On t
he voyage out there will be less profit, but he will still make a few shillings, probably from bottles of India Pale Ale and brandy mostly. There is a great thirst for bottled beer and a good bottle of spirits will go to auction, the demand so high.”

  “An income of ten thousands, at least, is not small, sir!”

  “It is not, and he may well be able to add to it, less respectably, from Indian contractors who will wish to encourage him to favour their businesses. The Company builds many of its own ships in India, and purchases muskets and blades and uniforms from local suppliers, and no doubt much else besides.”

  Septimus had not realised that to be the case – the country was rich indeed, he now understood.

  Mr Carruthers greeted his guests with all formality, stood in his reception room while their names were called on entry.

  Colonel Horncastle was well-known to him and he made the introduction of Septimus and his lady, commenting that Major Pearce was young in his rank, having risen on the field of battle in the Sugar Islands.

  “A gentleman of military distinction, one has heard, Major Pearce, and you have already done well in the field in India I am told, sir! And Mrs Pearce – a daughter of the Osbornes of Hampshire, I understand, ma’am! I believe I must congratulate you both on a son and heir!”

  They smiled and said the right words in the correct accent, much to Carruthers’ pleasure. A few of the merchant class retained the old ruralities in their speech, which he could not approve of. He passed the Pearces on to his lady wife, a more jealous judge of gentility, for her examination; they passed muster for knowing how to take a glass from a tray presented to them and for being courteous to a Judge of the Bombay Court who was already half-drunk.

  They drank soup – without spilling – and ate their dinners while maintaining properly inane and polite conversation with their neighbours and without talking across the table, generally agreed to be an ill-bred habit. They were acceptable.