Rogue Officer

by Kilworth, Garry Douglas

  Deighnton was looking furious, as well he might. Here was his prey, all snapped out like an officer on parade, not a hair out of place, presenting the inquiry with a detailed account of his escapades. Deighnton had been expecting Jack to be dragged in, filthy and lice-ridden, wearing the same dirt and rags he had been carrying with him for several weeks.

  The colonel read just a few lines of the report, then looked up and noticed Jack’s missing hand.

  ‘The . . . er . . . deformity – here?’

  ‘No, sir. Crimea.’

  ‘Ah – ’ the colonel glanced towards Deighnton – ‘and so you two knew each other in the Crimea?’

  ‘No, we did not,’ said Jack. ‘Until this moment I did not know of Captain Deighnton’s presence in the Crimea.’

  ‘Captain Deighnton is a survivor of that dreadful charge the Light Brigade made on Russian cannons, though not with his current regiment.’

  He would be, thought Jack. Deighnton was likely to come out of a massacre without a scratch. He was that sort of officer. Damn it, how big did cannonballs have to be to hit a man like Deighnton? He probably rode through a hail of grapeshot and canister with men and horses going down on all sides, and felt only the wind of their passing. If rain were acid, men like Deighnton would walk through it without a drop falling on their shoulders.

  ‘He is a hero, Lieutenant. Were you a hero of the Crimea?’

  ‘He did his part,’ muttered Deighnton, without looking up. ‘I understand he distinguished himself at the battle for the Redan, which is where he lost his hand.’

  ‘So, two heroes of the Crimea, albeit one of lesser glory.’ He sighed deeply. ‘What a shame it has to come to this sort of thing, one officer accusing another. One would have thought the pair of you should be toasting each other, rather than be at daggers drawn. Most unfortunate. Now, Lieutenant, please give me an account in your own words . . .’

  Jack began his story, noting that the colonel was reading the report in front of him as Jack was telling the tale, presumably to check that the two versions were more or less the same. Jack did vary his oral report slightly, knowing that if he was too exact he could be accused of learning his story by rote and trotting it out verbatim, which would be just as damning as coming out with a tale that differed considerably from the written version.

  ‘My men will verify those parts where they were involved, but of course cannot do so for the part where I was a captive. Nor can they confirm my orders, which were given to me orally by my superior in the presence of no one but ourselves. You will appreciate, sir, that this kind of work requires the utmost secrecy. If anything leaks out, through servants or others, to the general population, the missions would be at risk. My disguises would be useless to me and the whole effort would be compromised.’

  The colonel turned to Deighnton. ‘Captain?’

  Deighnton leaned back in his chair and tapped the table with a coin as he spoke. ‘All I know is I saw him run after freeing himself from a Ghazi zealot. The pair of them were brawling in the dust, scratching and kicking like two women. Crossman was fortunate that his Rajput servant was close by to behead the Ghazi, or he would have had his eyes clawed out . . .’

  ‘Those Ghazis are a formidable enemy,’ said the colonel. ‘Frightful fellows.’

  ‘After which I heard that Crossman had not been seen since. I learned from others that he had ridden north, galloped away from the scene of the fighting, leaving the battle behind him. It’s my contention that Crossman – I do not believe him to be a coward, having seen him fight with bravery on other occasions – became overwhelmed and confused by his encounter with the frenzied attack of the Ghazi. His mind disjointed, he took flight.’

  Disjointed, mused Jack. Strange choice of word – but exceptionally clever. ‘His mind was disjointed.’ He’s not accusing me of cowardice, but the result would be the same. If I ran, I ran, whatever the reason. Yet the captain understands why I ran, albeit it is no excuse. So very clever. You bloody bastard, he thought. I wish you were dead. Why didn’t I shoot straight on that morning? Why didn’t I blow your cunning little brains out?

  ‘The captain is right,’ said Jack. ‘I was disorientated after my scrap with the Ghazi, but only very briefly, for a few minutes at the most. I maintain as in the report – I insist – I received an oral order from Major Lovelace to the effect that I had to go out and ascertain the general direction of the retreating enemy army of Khan. This I did, sending back my sergeant to inform General Campbell, while venturing on alone to verify my findings. It was shortly after this that I was ambushed by rebel sepoys and taken prisoner. My men will verify the fact that I was taken prisoner, for though they did not actually witness me being captured, or my escape from the rebels, they did assist me in following my captors and in bringing them to justice.’

  The colonel listened to this with care before taking some spectacles out of his top pocket, putting them on, and then peering at some papers on the desk before him.

  ‘I see here Captain Deighnton maintains that the loyalty of your men is such that they will swear black is white if you wished it.’

  Jack could not help but let out a hollow laugh which echoed around the walls of the large stone hall.

  ‘Sir, I have a Rajput who would rather be back with his beloved maharaja than trailing about with me; a sergeant who is more interested in mapmaking than doing his job of spying and sabotage; a private who hates all officers and especially those who jumped from sergeant to lieutenant without a by your leave; and an American frontiersman who finds it difficult to show the British Army loyalty, let alone a British aristocrat. I think you’ll find that my men are much the same as other ranking soldiers in the British Army – they care nothing for those who lead them.’

  The colonel looked over his glasses at Deighnton.

  ‘He’s certainly very eloquent,’ he said. ‘I like a man who puts up a clever and spirited defence.’

  The look on the captain’s face showed he did not agree.

  Throughout the inquiry Major O’Hay had been sitting staring at the tabletop, his bottom lip protruding, a thoughtful expression on his face. He was one of those men who listens with growing indignation and abhorrence to ugly stories about phantom officers, but finds when that officer has a face, a body, a bearing, a manner and a way of addressing others – in short, a character – he can no longer maintain the disgust he felt when that officer could only be imagined. He finds the fellow not at all like he thought he would be: the chap seems somehow more human and credible. Not a monster at all.

  The major suddenly came alive. ‘May I interject a word here, Colonel?’

  ‘Certainly, Major – what is it?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking, sir – this lieutenant is not known to us or anyone else in camp – except Captain Deighnton. I have a feeling there is some history between these two men. I’ve been watching them both very carefully, and there is personal animosity in the way they exchange looks and words. Would the colonel allow me to question both officers?’

  Good for you! thought Jack. Unexpectedly insightful. I had you pegged as a lazy Indian Army officer, happy to drift on the tide so long as no effort was required from you.

  Deighnton said venomously, ‘I object! I’m not being investigated here – the lieutenant is the man before the court.’

  Colonel Boothroyde said sharply, ‘This is not a court. You, sir, are the accuser – what have you got to hide?’

  O’Hay immediately started in on the captain, not giving him time for further protests.

  ‘How is it, Captain Deighnton, that you – a cavalry officer – are familiar with a lieutenant of an infantry regiment? Do your families know one another?’

  ‘No, they do not, sir,’ said Deighnton, with some asperity. ‘Lieutenant Crossman and I clashed during the siege of Delhi – his Indian servant was in jail there and the lieutenant contrived to free him by devious means which need not concern this inquiry.’

  ‘You quarrelled?’

&
nbsp; ‘Most assuredly.’

  ‘And who won this quarrel – who came out the victor?’

  Deighnton almost stood up, but thought better of it and simply twisted in his chair. ‘I don’t understand the relevance of all this . . .’

  ‘Lieutenant?’ continued O’Hay. ‘Who came out best?’

  Jack said, ‘I managed to free my Rajput, who had been wrongly imprisoned in the first instance.’

  ‘So the captain has a cause?’

  Deighnton said through even teeth, ‘Are you calling me a liar, Major? Is there some implication that I’m concocting this story out of nothing?’ When he spoke his eyes narrowed and he looked as dangerous as a cobra. The major actually flinched under this attack. But, thought Jack, to give him his due he did not retreat.

  ‘I am not calling you anything, Captain. I, like the colonel here, am trying to get at the core of this rotten apple. You have a grievance against this lieutenant having been bettered by him in a quarrel. One could say you are not entirely without bias.’

  Colonel Boothroyde saved the major from another withering look by supporting him. ‘The more that comes out here, the less simple the matter appears. You say you had a companion in your captivity – a Dutchman? What was his name?’

  ‘He gave his name as Rudi Hilversum,’ Jack said.

  There was a sharp intake of breath from Major O’Hay. He leaned across and whispered in the ear of the colonel. Deighnton was suddenly smirking again, victory evident in his expression. The colonel looked severe as he addressed Jack again.

  ‘Are you offering this villain as someone who will corroborate your testimony, Lieutenant?’

  ‘Villain?’ Jack’s stomach turned over. ‘I have no idea of his former activities. Hilversum had already been captive a while when I myself was made prisoner. I had neither met nor heard of the man before that moment. I have to say he showed fortitude and courage in the face of death and I had no reason to doubt his character. May I ask why he is thus branded, sir?’

  ‘Hilversum has been suspected of various crimes from gunrunning to embezzlement,’ Major O’Hay stated. ‘If you call him as a witness on your behalf you might well regret it.’

  ‘You say suspected, sir. Has he ever been convicted?’

  ‘To my knowledge he has not been charged with anything yet, but he has a very undesirable reputation, Lieutenant. I’m surprised you have not heard of him – most have. Perhaps your clandestine activities keep you out of the way of ordinary gossip, which can be no bad thing. Colonel,’ Major O’Hay said, turning to his superior, ‘may I offer a suggestion here?’

  ‘Certainly, Major,’ replied the colonel, seeming only too relieved to have someone make a decision for him. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Sir, might I suggest that all witnesses leave the room while we bring this process to a close?’

  Since there was only one witness present, that man being Captain Deighnton, the cavalry officer snorted violently.

  Colonel Boothroyde stared at the captain with intense dislike in his expression. ‘Sir, leave us if you please?’

  Without another word the sour-faced captain rose and strode, tall and straight, the length of the hall, his sabre clinking against the metal on his belt. Jack reluctantly admired his adversary’s bearing. Deighnton was everything required of a cavalry captain: tall, lean, handsome, and so far as Jack had learned, courageous to a fault. He had breeding. His horsemanship was brilliant. His appearance immaculate. He was also intelligent and articulate: not one of your stuttering Percivals or gormless inbreeds. An aristocrat’s son, he was feared and envied for his utter disregard for his own safety. Deighnton had the appearance of a prince and the heart of a despot. Such was the man who had made an enemy of Jack Grossman.

  ‘Now,’ said Major O’Hay, bringing everyone’s attention back to the table where the colonel sat shuffling papers, ‘to the question of what to do with Lieutenant Kirk.’ Jack, weary of protest, let this ride. ‘My suggestion, Colonel, should you wish to accept it, is that we release the lieutenant for the present time so that he may go about his duties. He is to understand that he is not exonerated from these charges, but at the moment the evidence is too weak to bring court martial against him and his men. At some future date he is to present himself to his commanding officer – the colonel of the 88th – to whom we shall send the details gathered so far. Let his own CO decide whether to press the case or abandon it, according to any new evidence which might be garnered in the meantime.’

  Colonel Boothroyde threw a very grateful look at his aide.

  ‘Major, I believe I was coming to the same decision myself. You have put it very neatly into words.’ He turned to Jack and wore his severe expression. ‘Lieutenant – whatever you call yourself – you are free to go for the moment. But hold yourself ready, sir, to account for your actions. There is a grey mark against your name which has not yet been erased. You, Lieutenant, will bring yourself before your own commanding officer at a future time, once we have this household – ’ he meant of course India – ‘thoroughly back in the grip of its rightful stewards. Is that understood?’

  Although Jack was already at attention, he brought his heels together with a click and saluted the colonel. ‘Perfectly, sir. Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me,’ replied the colonel. ‘It is not for you to thank me, sir – I have done my duty, that is all. Dismissed.’

  The two senior officers rose and left the room, chatting about some affair to do with the mess, leaving a damp and relieved Jack. Soldiers around the room relaxed. The sergeant major who had been standing just to Jack’s right, ready to prevent him from attacking any of the inquiry officers should things have turned nasty, turned and marched briskly towards the hall’s exit.

  Keenlyside grinned and extended his hand.

  Jack shook it, saying, ‘Well, I’m not off the hook yet.’

  ‘No, but as good as.’

  ‘I hope so. It’s a horrible charge – desertion. My father – well, let’s not dwell on such horrors. Can I buy you a chotapeg?’

  ‘No thanks. Can’t drink. I’m actually still on duty. I should think you could do with some tiffin. Can you leave the uniform in the bungalow? Chap wants it back of course.’

  Jack looked down at himself. ‘Oh, yes – forgot. It’s back to the choga for me.’

  ‘I envy you.’ The lieutenant ran a finger under his coatee collar. ‘I’d prefer Indian cottons to these beastly garments.’

  Jack left the hall. He was relieved to find Deighnton was nowhere to be seen. While he still wore the uniform, which had more of an electric effect on soldiers than his Indian garb, he went straight to the billet where his men were confined. As he suspected, no one had bothered to send word to release them. The sentries were still there. Jack dismissed them. They took no notice of him, staring past him at some point on the horizon.

  ‘Who’s your sergeant?’ he asked one of them.

  ‘Sergeant McKinnon.’

  ‘Well, one of you fetch him – the other can still remain here to guard the prisoners.’

  The soldiers looked unsure of themselves.

  ‘NOW!’

  One of them left at the double, heading towards the Guard Room. A few minutes later he came out again and whistled, shrilly, between two fingers. The remaining soldier glanced at Jack, saluted him, then trotted off with his rifle in the direction of the whistle. Jack went into the billet and informed Sergeant King that they were leaving.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ muttered King. ‘I was beginning to feel the rope around my neck.’

  ‘I don’t think it would have come to that,’ replied Jack, but he said it without much conviction. ‘It was a fair hearing.’

  Corporal Gwilliams said, ‘Well, you’re lucky to get one of those – there’s not many in the bag, from what I’ve seen of army justice.’

  ‘Too right,’ cried Wynter. ‘I’ve ’ad a good few bad ’uns.’

  Raktambar and Sajan said nothing, but Raktambar nodded slowly and serio
usly in Jack’s direction, acknowledging Jack’s victory.

  The group managed to find some horses and prepared to ride south to join General Rose’s advance into Central India. Before they left, Jack went to see the young subaltern, Lieutenant Keenlyside, who urged Jack to find his superiors as soon as it was possible.

  ‘Captain Deighnton has left camp,’ said Keenlyside, ‘and is far from satisfied with the outcome of the inquiry.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Jack said. ‘He wanted me found guilty.’

  ‘The word is that once you were out of Boothroyde’s sight the colonel began having second thoughts. He’s anything but convinced of your innocence, but is constrained by the lack of evidence both for and against your case. I believe if you stayed around here too long, you might end up back on arrest again. My advice is to scoot before the Old Man changes his mind. He’s apt to that. Not a constant man, our commander. He can be influenced. Fortunately for you, O’Hay turned against Deighnton, but the commander listens to whoever has his ear at the time. Deighnton may very well return with some officer of senior rank and you’ll be back in the pot.’

  ‘Thanks for the advice. I was of the same mind.’

  ‘Off you go then, old chap,’ said Keenlyside, grinning. ‘Scoot on down to Rose and see if you can’t find your Loveladle or whatever his name is – you need some big guns behind you.’

  Six

  Jack had learned from the young Lieutenant Keenlyside that General Rose had defeated Tantia Tope at Kunch and had later captured Kalpi. Having completed operations in Rohilkand, Rose’s force had moved on towards Gwalior. The rebel armies had now fragmented into guerrilla groups which ranged the countryside, creating mayhem on a smaller scale than before, but with irritating effect. They were now harder to find, less easy to pin down, yet still as ferocious as before. These were men who had nothing to lose. They had made a bid to cast off their British rulers and had failed, but they were not simply going to lie down.