If I was successful, then they would reward me by placing me in a lucrative post – someone had to do the work, they were not finding additional money.
It was the Company. I could not refuse short of purchasing a passage on the next Indiaman home.
“Thank you, Mr Arbuthnot, for your confidence in me. I do not doubt that we can bring this matter to a successful ending. When do we sail?”
“Captain Partridge boards ship tomorrow, Mr Jackson. Assuming he is happy, then you could take your people aboard within the week.”
“Very good, sir. Have I permission to enter the ship myself before sailing day and inspect the available accommodation and stores and armoury?”
“Captain Partridge will be glad to see you. He expects you, in fact, not imagining that you would turn down a chance of adventure. He has a respect for your abilities, and your luck, Mr Jackson.”
I wondered what that meant, and what he had actually said. I would find out next day, probably.
The Company had given Captain Partridge a fine command for the job. Coromandel was a four hundred and fifty tonner, ship-rigged and teak built, as were most country ships. Most sailors who had experience of them held that teak was better than English oak for shipbuilding. I did not know and would not join that debate. She seemed dry and within reason new and that was the extent of my judgement.
Coromandel was pierced for six guns on the broadside and a chaser at the bows and a pair to the stern. I saw she had long guns, twelve pounders on the broadside and a somewhat greater bowchaser. The sternchasers were both short barrelled pieces, and the old favourite of John Company, the eighteen pound cannonade. Provided her gunners were up to scratch, she would annoy any pirate to be found in these waters.
I spotted mountings for swivels on her stern, which I much approved of. Any would-be boarders in small boats would have a difficult time of it.
Like many merchant ships, she had a full poop extending perhaps a quarter of the length of the ship. Useful for the crew if attacked – the boarders would mostly come aboard where the sides were lowest and the poop could serve its old purpose as a castle for the defenders. It was less handy for making an assault on a port, as the boats would not be hoisted out so quickly. It would be necessary to come inshore towing the boats in a string, with the chance of losing them to wind and wave of the night.
I took a surf boat out and begged permission to board, was waved up the side and greeted with some pleasure. Captain Partridge remembered Fred’s name as well and spoke to him kindly, which showed a good heart at least.
“No cargo, Mr Jackson, so we shall be able to use the holds for the men. Not especially comfortable, perhaps, but it will be for a few weeks only.”
I made no reply other than to beg permission to see for myself.
The ship had been in the rice trade, which needed dry holds. She was boarded out, bilge water kept well clear, which was perhaps the sole positive I could discover. There was no provision for hammocks, which meant pallets on the deck – uncomfortable and impossible if there was any sort of sea. I went in search of the galleys, found none – there was just the original ship’s cook with his two boilers.
I returned to the captain’s cabin.
“Sorry, sir. It cannot be done in this ship in its present condition. She is not fit to carry men, sir.”
To give Captain Partridge his due, he asked why rather than falling into a rage.
“What’s to be done, Mr Jackson?”
“Several weeks, at least, of work, sir. It took more than one week to fit up Jenny Dawes to carry the extra Indian sea-soldiers. It will take longer to set up hammock spaces and an enlarged galley for a half battalion.”
“We must sail within the week, to reach the new harbour before the French can bring in cannon and build batteries.”
“Not in Coromandel, sir. The sea-soldiers would be half-starved and unable to fight for lack of sleep.”
“What do you suggest, Mr Jackson?”
“A second ship, one rigged for troop-carrying, if there be such in port. If not – well, I have no practical suggestion.”
“Troopers are normally unarmed, Mr Jackson. Old East Indiamen or Third or Fourth Rates of the Navy en flute, their guns landed.”
“Retain Coromandel as escort, sir. Could you have her twelve pounders taken away, to be replaced by eighteens, perhaps? With no soldiers aboard, it might be possible to carry greater guns.”
“We must speak to Mr Arbuthnot. Come with me.”
Arbuthnot listened and was not pleased to be told that his plans must be radically amended. He did not know that it was possible and could not see that the soldiers could not make do at a pinch.
“Six weeks is not impossible for the voyage, sir, if the winds are foul and we are forced to make a longer journey rather than the simple passage of the Straits of Malacca.”
Captain Partridge was uncompromising, having made up his mind that the original plan must fail.
“In your candid opinion, Mr Jackson, can it not be done?”
“Men would die, sir, unable to sleep and suffering from inadequate food. Of the bulk who survived, I do not know how many would be able to fight. I much suspect that we would fail in the assault and that Coromandel might be taken. That, sir, would be a disaster – the French able to demonstrate that the Company had made a dastardly attack upon them. I really would dread to think of what London might have to say!”
Mr Arbuthnot laughed, possibly for the first time since in our acquaintance.
“I know exactly what would be said, Mr Jackson! ‘The man Arbuthnot, previously of such good character, permitted, encompassed in fact, the misuse of the Company’s money, goods and men to commit an unlawful act. He is no more than a pirate, and no doubt intended to make vast sums of money with which to retire to England. He must be tried for treason, at minimum, and hanged by the neck, unless a more fitting end can be discovered. He and all his minions, including the wicked Partridge and the evil Jackson’.”
“Then the project cannot go ahead, sir?”
“Of course it can. If we do not end the French menace then we may lose a China convoy, which would be even worse for us! Coromandel and a troop carrier, Mr Jackson. God knows where we shall find such a beast – but we shall and must!”
Captain Partridge and I were called to inspect an old country-built Indiaman, Leeds Castle, which was of the smaller, eleven-hundred-ton class, just three days later. She had been brought in storm-damaged some months before with the original belief that she could not sail as far as England again. The yard had done some work on her in the expectation that she might be used on the pilgrim run up to Mecca. They had installed cabins and put bunks into the holds and had built cooking hearths for a thousand jam-packed and poor of the faithful.
An hour convinced us that she would do for a full battalion, if such could be found for the expedition.
“Your people, Mr Jackson, aboard Coromandel. Your boarders and Jamadar Rao’s men together?”
“They know each other and can fit in, Captain.”
“Good. Mr Arbuthnot has, as they say, ‘worked the oracle’, Mr Jackson.”
“What has he done, sir?”
I readied myself to be suitably amazed, to applaud a stroke of true genius.
“Why, Mr Jackson, he has laid his hands on a battalion of sepoys, Bombay Foot, who are to dress in mufti, to seem no more than ragged badmashes on the pirate lay.”
“What of their officers, Captain Partridge? Are they not Englishmen and so much out of place?”
“They will wear rags and black themselves all over, Mr Jackson. Burned cork, I am told, does the job very well. Grease and soot from the boilers in the galley will also be most effective. They say, or so I am told, that it will be ‘a jolly jape’. They will be under their senior captain, the major not best suited for this sort of game; too old for it.”
“Good God!”
“I agree, Mr Jackson. But seven hundred of trained sepoys will do a very fine j
ob for us. A battalion of the Native Light Infantry, the 5th, I believe, has been selected.”
“Fighting men with a fine name, Captain Partridge. What is the command?”
“I am in overall command, Mr Jackson. You have your seventy or thereabouts of men and will be expected to take the lead in the initial assault, having experience at sea. The captain of the Native Light Infantry will follow with his men, according to whatever plan we come up with.”
“Then let us welcome the gentleman, sir, and set sail as soon as may be. What of Coromandel’s guns, sir?”
“Unchanged. There are no others to hand without sailing to Calcutta, which must add weeks to our voyage.”
“And time is of the essence, sir.”
“Well said, Mr Jackson.”
I believe Captain Partridge honestly thought that to be an original statement. Not the best educated, merchant seamen. Or naval, for that matter.
“The soldiers board ship in the morning and we sail as soon after that as possible. The trooper is up for water and rations came aboard yesterday, double-checked by the ship’s purser and the battalion’s quartermaster. Military stores are due today – powder and ball, essentially.”
“Very good, sir. How are the Light Infantry armed, do you know, sir? They was used to carry a fusil, I am told, a carbine, more-or-less, but I heard they were to have ordinary Brown Besses instead.”
Captain Partridge did not know.
“Why?”
“The fusil is lighter and less cumbersome and light troops are expected to march faster and farther than the ordinary run of foot. I doubt it makes a deal of difference at thirty yards, and I would hope not to exchange musket fire at any greater range.”
We were rowed across to Leeds Castle next morning immediately after the soldiers embarked and made the acquaintance of the British officers, who were at liberty. The native officers, a pair of subedars, were busy, settling the men and organising the cookhouse routine.
“Captain Young, sir!”
The gentleman lifted his hat to us and we responded, naturally, being in favour of the courtesies of life.
“Captain Partridge and Mr Jackson, who has the boarding parties from Coromandel. Mr Jackson has experience in fighting aboard ship and landing ashore and will give us the benefit of his practical knowledge. He has landed in South America and the African coast and fought Chinese pirates off Canton.”
Captain Partridge wished, I think, to dispel any doubts there might be about my obvious youth. I had no objection to him doing so – it would make my work easier, I suspected.
“How many men, Mr Jackson?”
“I have made my Englishmen back up to a score, sir, all of them men from the well-known blue water port of Poole, in Dorset. Besides that, I have fifty of Indian men under Jamadar Rao, all of them sepoys who have served their time and are not averse to earning extra money before they retire to their villages. They have shown very willing, sir.”
“Excellent! The proposal is that your party should lead us ashore, being handier in boats than my sepoys can be. You are to make a first lodgement and discover a landing place and then the battalion will pass through you to finish the job.”
“That is the plan, Captain. I do not doubt that, like all plans, it will be subject to amendment on the spot, but while we use the intellects God has given us, things should work well.”
“I agree, sir. You will wish to meet my officers – not so many as there should be! The fevers have been a little sharp this year and we are waiting on men from Home.”
I noticed that repeatedly – officers who had been out for twenty years and had every intention of staying in India till they died still called England ‘Home’.
Captain Young was well into his forties – ancient, to me – and had survived his share of the fevers and looked as if he might not last many more years, going by his yellow eyes and gaunt cheeks. The Company Armies promoted by seniority exclusively – not a general under the age of sixty – and their officers tended to be inflexible and suspicious of novelty. I was surprised that Captain Young had accepted my presence at all. He turned to the group of men behind him, politely hanging back till then.
“Captains Norris, Tapperley, Corton and Foskett. Captain Partridge and Mr Jackson, gentlemen.”
We exchanged bows and waved our hats at each other, all very properly.
Six lieutenants stood behind them again, were not introduced individually but saluted us. I noticed one to be staring at me, hard-eyed and less than delighted to make my acquaintance. A stocky sort of fellow, my own age or thereabouts, with a broken nose and a scar across his cheek since last I had seen him… I greeted him with delight.
“Mr Binks! My old school friend, sir.”
I advanced and shook Binks’ hand, the others approving the sight of old pals meeting again.
“I had not known you were to go soldiering, Binks! It must be nearly four years now, is it not, old chap?”
“Very nearly, Jackson. I was delayed a little in taking my commission while the broken leg healed, and my nose as well. I had always been intended to come out to India – my cousin Shaftesbury had arranged it for me.”
“Ah well, if you must go falling downstairs, Binks, then you must expect the odd scar, you know. Not to worry, old chap. Every chance of a tidy little scrap to come, you know. That will set us both up!”
Binks laughed at the prospect – as he must – all of the soldiers were in favour of bloody battles, especially those that killed off men senior to them. I had no reason to suppose that he was not a fierce warrior himself – though it did occur to me that I might be sensible to keep an eye on him when the fighting started, just in case he fancied a spot of revenge.
We returned to Coromandel and led the trooper out of the roadstead barely an hour later, clapping on sail and using a wind that the nautical types assured me was favourable. I thought about sitting down to consider a plan for the assault on the French harbour but decided that as I knew nothing of the place, there was very little I could do in advance.
“How long will it take to get the sepoys ashore from their trooper, Captain Partridge?”
“They have a score of pulling boats, Mr Jackson. Say an hour to launch them and then another to set the men aboard and that will be one half of them on their way. Another hour to get them inshore and on land, with luck, and then as long again to return for the remainder. Five or six hours might just get them all onto the beach. If there is a quay, that will save a deal of time, might cut it to four. If they are well disciplined and handy, they might get into the boats before dawn and set out at first light. At best, you can expect them all to be available some three hours after dawn. At worst – if there is a current, an undertow, say – then you might lose one half of the boats and not see the survivors formed up before noon.”
It was absolutely necessary to get some idea of the lay of the land.
Coromandel’s boats were all European in design and appearance. It would not be sensible to send one of them off in advance to sail past the harbour and get a look at it.
“We will need to take a dhow or some other sort of local craft, sir, when we are close to the port and send it away with some of our people to discover the nature of the landing.”
“It will help if they can also pin down the location of the place, Mr Jackson! I think we must follow the coast north until we come to the end of the marshlands – mangroves, I must suppose they will be – and then take a fisherman and explore the shore northwards. A seaman, it must be, one of the mates, to make a sketch of the harbour and give an indication of the depth of water as well as spy out the fortifications, if there are any yet, and perhaps give a once over to any ships at anchor or tied up. If there is a heavy frigate in port, we may have an interesting morning ahead of us.”
I had not thought about the naval side of the affair. It was obvious, now that Captain Partridge had mentioned it, that the French must have been transported to their new harbour by ship, and that ship might s
till be there.
“Do you believe that Mr Arbuthnot has considered the difficulties inherent in this task, sir?”
“No. Mr Arbuthnot is a chair-bound warrior, Mr Jackson. He knows what must occur and expects us, the lesser mortals, to dance to his command and perform any and all tasks at his bidding, irrespective of the difficulties inherent. He does not know what he demands of us. We will never tell him because we depend on his approval.”
Captain Partridge was used to the little ways of his land-bound superiors – nothing they did could amaze him any more.
“By the way, Mr Jackson, what is the story of Mr Binks? I presume you gave him the broken nose and the scar across his cheek. And the broken leg, was it? How did he come to fall downstairs? Did you push him?”
“Push him, sir? Certainly not! I kicked him.”
“Ah! I see. I must imagine you had good reason?”
“More than sufficient, sir. I would say that I had not realised the stairs to be quite so close, or that he would be so clumsy as to fall down them. He was staggering at the time, due to a well-placed knee immediately prior. He probably did not intend to fall down the stairs, but I assure you I made no attempt to catch him.”
“Fortunate, perhaps, that he did not break his neck.”
“It was, sir. I would not have been too concerned had he done so, but I did not know then that he was related to the Earl of Shaftesbury. It is as well that he survived, perhaps. You may gather that Mr Binks’ misfortunes led directly to my leaving school and eventually appearing in India. I hold no grudge against him for that. I discovered before I left England that I had been destined for the University to read Divinity and to become a parson. I prefer my present fate.”
Captain Partridge burst out laughing, was able eventually to tell me that the Church did not know what it had missed.
“Dear me, Mr Jackson. I cannot see you as a sixty pounds a year curate, sir! I would dearly love to hear you give a sermon, that I will say! On turning the other cheek, no doubt!”
Nobody’s Child Page 22
