THE GENERALS

by Simon Scarrow

  The Company’s resident in Seringapatam, Barry Close, leaned forward as he responded. ‘That’s fine in principle, sir, but as long as Dhoondiah Waugh has gold and silver to pay for supplies, then we can be sure that the brinjarris will sell him grain, and other goods, even weapons.’

  ‘I have thought of that,’ said Arthur. ‘I think it’s time we made the merchants aware of the dangers of dealing with Dhoondiah Waugh.’ He turned to Purneah. ‘A hint might be given to them that I am in the habit of hanging those whom I find living under the protection of British and Company forces and dealing treacherously towards our interests. I shall spare neither rank nor riches in this respect.’

  Purneah nodded. ‘I shall see to it, sahib.’

  ‘Very well.’ Arthur indicated the bottle of arrack on the table. ‘Fitzroy, if you would do the honours?’

  When every man had a full glass,Arthur raised his to make the toast. ‘Gentlemen, the hunt is on. To the day’s fox.’

  Early in June Arthur led the small army he had formed into the northern region of Mysore, the stronghold of Dhoondiah Waugh. In addition to two King’s battalions there were five Company battalions. Each unit had been allocated two small field guns, since grapeshot had proved to have a profoundly demoralising effect on enemy warriors more used to small arms fire and hand to hand fighting. In order to move swiftly enough to counter the enemy’s moves, Arthur also took along two King’s regiments of cavalry and three of the Company’s mounted units.

  The villages the column marched through all bore evidence of Dhoondiah Waugh’s cruel regime: the blackened shells of burned buildings and the pinched faces of those who had lost all their animals and crops to the brigands. All that he saw made Arthur more determined than ever to crush Dhoondiah Waugh and give some peace and order to the desperate natives who stared at the passing soldiers and held out their hands as they begged for scraps of food.The hircarrah scouts soon found the first of the enemy’s strongholds on the border with the Mahratta federation. The defenders were offered terms, and when they contemptuously turned them down Arthur ordered his guns to blow the gates open with roundshot before his soldiers stormed the fort and killed every man under arms within. The rest were released, and Arthur had few doubts about their fate if they ever passed through the lands they had once preyed on.

  One by one the enemy’s strongholds fell to the British forces, and the stores of arms and food that could not be carried off were set on fire. As the summer heat beat down on the parched landscape the campaign assumed a steady rhythm of marching during the cool hours before dawn and into the morning, before lying up during the suffocating midday heat, and then resuming their progress into the early evening before making camp for the night. The only relief from marching came when they encountered each stronghold, which fell in less than a day, and then the column moved on.

  As July began with still no sighting of Dhoondiah Waugh and his army Arthur began to doubt that his campaign plan was working. The British were steadily whittling down the enemy’s supply bases and reducing his strongholds and yet Dhoondiah Waugh resolutely refused to give battle, even though he surely knew where Arthur’s column was from day to day, since his horsemen were nearly always in sight somewhere in the hazy distance, keeping a watch on the column’s progress.

  ‘The bloody man is going to retreat to the ends of the earth,’ Fitzroy grumbled one morning early in the month. He was riding at Arthur’s side, and squinting in the harsh glare of the sun. The dust kicked up from the column filled the air and settled on the jackets and crossbelts of the battalion marching beside them so that it seemed as if they had all passed through a pool of ochre dye.

  Arthur licked his lips and spat out the grit that had got caught in his saliva. ‘He can’t go too far. If Goklah is true to his word then even now he will be moving towards us with his army. Dhoondiah Waugh will have a battle on his hands whichever way he turns. There will be no escape.’

  ‘I pray so,’ Fitzroy muttered. ‘Before we all choke on this wretched dust. I imagine you’ll be looking forward to returning to the comforts of Seringapatam as much as the rest of us, sir?’

  ‘Yes. I suppose so,’ Arthur replied. His mind went back to one of the final communications he had received from Richard, shortly before setting off on the present campaign. Another attempt was to be made to take Java, to secure the trade routes from French privateers. Richard had asked him to consider taking command of the expedition once he had dealt with Dhoondiah Waugh. Although the idea attracted him, Arthur had been forced to set it aside while the present campaign was under way. His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden pounding of hooves as a rider came galloping down the column.

  ‘Wellesley, sahib?’ the man called out. ‘Colonel Wellesley?’

  ‘Here!’ Arthur raised his hat and waved it from side to side as he halted Diomed.

  The rider yanked his reins and veered his mount towards Arthur. It was the chief of the hircarrah scouts, a man whose reliability Arthur had come to trust. He had been sent ahead of the column to gain knowledge of Goklah’s movements and report back. Now he reined in and Arthur saw at once that both the man and his mount were exhausted from days of hard riding.

  ‘What is it?’ Arthur asked in Hindoostani. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Goklah has been defeated by Dhoondiah Waugh, sahib. Six days ago.’

  ‘Defeated?’ Arthur shook his head. It could not be true. Goklah had over fifteen thousand men and eight guns. He looked closely at the scout. ‘How did this happen?’

  ‘Sahib, I was not there,’ the scout replied carefully. ‘I met some survivors hiding in a nullah. They told me what had happened. They were ambushed as they camped for the night. I rode on to the battlefield to see with my own eyes, and it was true, sahib. A shallow valley filled with the dead.’

  ‘And Goklah? What of him?’

  ‘Dead, sahib. The men saw it, and they said that Dhoondiah Waugh himself dyed his beard in the blood of Goklah.’

  Arthur continued to stare at the man for a moment, as the column tramped past. He was aware of Fitzroy at his side, fretting to know the nature of the news the scout had brought. He told the scout to join the column, but not to speak a word of the fate of Goklah. As the man rode off he turned to Fitzroy and spoke in an undertone.

  ‘Goklah is dead. His army is destroyed.’

  ‘Good God . . . What now, sir?’

  ‘What now? We carry on with the plan.’

  ‘Sir?’ Fitzroy looked surprised. ‘How can we? Goklah’s army was three times the size of ours. If Dhoondiah Waugh can defeat Goklah, what chance have we got?’

  ‘Man for man, our forces are more than a match for any army on this continent. As long as we hold the column together we have little to fear. Besides, with such a victory under his belt, Dhoondiah Waugh might become reckless enough to face us in battle. And if he does, then he is doomed, Fitzroy. Hold to that thought.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Fitroy replied uncertainly.

  Arthur turned his mount back towards the head of the column and with a click of his dry tongue he gently urged Diomed forward.

  They continued to reduce the enemy’s strongholds until, at the end of July, they stormed the final fortress of Dummul late in the afternoon. As dusk settled over the surrounding hills Arthur’s men went through the fort with firebrands, systematically torching everything that could burn. Brilliant sheets of red and orange flame crackled up against the rouge glow of the sunset. A thick plume of smoke gathered over the blaze, billowing gently into the gloom as it rose steadily higher. Even though they had burned several of Dhoondiah Waugh’s strongholds in the previous weeks the soldiers still regarded the spectacle with fascinated awe for a while before returning to their camp and preparing their evening meal.

  ‘That’s it, then, sir,’ Fitzroy announced. ‘The last of them. There’s nowhere for Dhoondiah Waugh to run now.’

  ‘True enough,’ Arthur agreed.

  ‘What will he do now, sir?’

 
; ‘There’s not much he can do, apart from keep on the move. We’ve destroyed his supplies, so there will be little food to sustain a large force. He’ll have to divide his army. Very soon, the prospect of continually being on the march without rest and further spoils will cause his men to melt away. At which point, Dhoondiah Waugh will be little more than a common criminal on the run. The days of the King of Two Worlds are numbered. It has come to the final act.’

  Chapter 58

  As Arthur had anticipated, Dhoondiah Waugh divided his army into three smaller forces, each one to fend for itself while trying to evade the British pursuit. But with the hircarrah scouts scouring the landscape looking for signs of the brigands it was only a matter of time before they were discovered.The first of the forces was surprised as it camped for the night and was annihilated by a column led by Colonel Stevenson. Arthur posted a thirty thousand rupee reward for information leading to the death or capture of Dhoondiah Waugh and within days a report on the precise location of the enemy was received. The rebel chief was leading the larger of his surviving columns away from Stevenson. On his present line of march he would be passing across the open ground at Conaghull - a mere ten miles from the main British column.

  It was shortly after noon, and Arthur’s mind raced as he grasped the opportunity that lay before him. As well as the bulk of the infantry and artillery he still had two regiments of King’s cavalry and two native mounted regiments, nearly fourteen hundred horsemen in all.‘Fitzroy, I want the cavalry ready to ride at once. They are to leave their kit behind. All they will need is one day’s rations and their weapons.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Hurry, man! We must move quickly.’

  Within half an hour, the cavalry column had left the main body and was riding hard across the landscape in the direction of Conaghull. Just over two hours after he had first received the report, Arthur spotted a dense cloud of dust a few miles distant and he felt relief wash through his heart. At last, they had pinned Dhoondiah Waugh down. He indicated the haze to Fitzroy and called out, ‘We’ll attack as soon as we reach them.’

  ‘Yes, sir. If you think that’s wise.’

  They rode on, until they were no more than a mile from the enemy force, now visible through gaps in the clumps of trees that dotted the plain. As the enemy drew into sight, Arthur halted his men and with Fitzroy rode over to a small hummock for a better sighting of the ground ahead.

  From the crest they had a fine view across the plain. Fitzroy’s expression steadily became more concerned as his eyes took in the mass of men and horses moving across the landscape. ‘Sir, there must be nearly . . . five thousand men over there.’

  Arthur nodded as he squinted through his field telescope. ‘At least. But no more than half are mounted.’

  ‘They still outnumber us, sir.’

  ‘Yes. But, as ever, this is is a test of quality over quantity, and the superiority of our men has not failed us yet.’

  ‘There’s always a first time, sir,’ Fitzroy responded quietly.

  Arthur lowered his telescope and turned to his aide with a smile. ‘And that time is not now.’ He turned back towards the enemy army and pointed to an open stretch of ground. ‘That’s where we’ll take them. We’ll form a single line parallel to the enemy and charge.’

  ‘A single line? No reserves, sir?’

  ‘No. We need to strike with maximum impact. If we don’t succeed with the first charge there will be no need for a reserve. It’s all or nothing, Fitzroy.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then let’s go!’ He wheeled Diomed round and galloped back down the slope to the long column of mounted men waiting impatiently in the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. They moved off at a tangent to the enemy and had closed to within half a mile by the time they reached the position Arthur had indicated. As they caught sight of their pursuers, Dhoondiah Waugh’s warriors halted and prepared to fight for their lives. Arthur drew his men up in one long line.The two King’s regiments were in the centre while the native cavalry formed up on the flanks.

  It was a brave sight, Arthur reflected as he glanced either side at his cavalrymen. He loosened the straps on his saddle holster, checked his stirrups were secure, and then drew his sword and bellowed the order, ‘Draw sabres!’

  The order was relayed down the line and the air was thick with the rasp of blades scraping from their scabbards. When the noise had died away, Arthur raised his blade high and then swept it forward towards the enemy to signal the advance.

  He nudged his heels in and Diomed paced forward. On either side the line rippled into motion as the horses began to cross the open ground, half a mile from the waiting enemy.The officers and their sergeants kept shouting orders to keep the line dressed, and Arthur noted with professional satisfaction that the men were maintaining their positions almost as well as if they had been on an exercise at Horseguards.

  Ahead he could see the enemy infantry raising their muskets, no more than four hundred yards away.

  ‘At the trot!’

  The line lurched forward, slightly more uneven now as the pace increased. Ahead, the first of the enemy opened fire, flashes and puffs of smoke pricking out along the face of the mass of men awaiting the British cavalry. At that range Arthur knew the chances of any ball hitting a target were remote, but he felt his pulse quicken none the less, and as soon as they had closed to within three hundred yards he raised his sword again.

  ‘Gallop!’

  Beneath him the ground shook as the iron-shod hooves thundered over the baked soil. The air was alive with flashes of sunlight glinting off blades and buttons and buckles. Before them the enemy line disappeared behind a curtain of gunfire and out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw a horse pitch forward as blood burst from a wound in its skull. Then it was gone, and Arthur guessed that they must be within a hundred paces of the enemy.

  ‘Charge!’

  As soon as he gave the order, the trumpeter at his shoulder blasted out the notes and the signal was echoed down the line as the men let out a roar and spurred their horses on.The stench of gunpowder filled Arthur’s nostrils, and the world was swallowed by a thick swirl of pallid smoke, before a figure on horseback leaped into view almost in front of him. Arthur’s sword had been poised, point forward, and he just had time to flex his arm and swing a cut as Diomed ploughed into the enemy’s mount with a panicked whinny, knocking the smaller horse aside. The blade swished through the air, the tip slicing across the bridge of the man’s nose, severing the bottom section. As he recovered and lifted the blade for the next cut, Arthur jerked the reins to the left, swerving Diomed towards half a dozen foot soldiers who scattered. Arthur swung at the nearest, who threw up a round shield just in time to deflect the blow into the arm of one of his comrades. The sabre cut through bare flesh and bone. The man with the shield thrust out his sword, aiming the blow at Arthur’s side, and he just had time to throw himself back in his saddle so the blade stabbed past his stomach, tearing through the leather cuff of the glove that held the reins. Arthur swept his blade up in a desperate unorthodox blow that smashed into his foe’s elbow, and the sword clattered to one side.

  For a moment, he was clear of the fight and no one faced him. Snatching a glance around him, Arthur saw that his men had shattered the enemy line completely, and were engaged in personal duels with other riders in a loose melee that stretched out for nearly a mile across the plain. Most of Dhoondiah Waugh’s foot soldiers had already broken and were streaming away from the fight, run down here and there by some of Arthur’s men who had cut their way right through the enemy line. A short distance away he saw a party of enemy horsemen gathered round a standard and realised he must be looking at Dhoondiah Waugh and his bodyguard.

  ‘Follow me!’ Arthur called out, waving his sword overhead to draw attention. ‘On me!’

  Several dragoons immediately rallied to the call and spurred their mounts to the colonel’s side. As soon as he had a score of men ready Arthur pointed his sword at the e
nemy horsemen. ‘That’s Dhoondiah Waugh, boys! He must not escape. Charge!’

  Diomed burst forward, with Arthur rising up in his stirrups as he leaned forward, sword raised. He sensed the men charging just behind him on either side and was lost in the mad thrill of the action. All the long weeks of marching under a hot sun, the razing of enemy strongholds, and the constant stream of intelligence reports and redeployment of forces - all that vanished from his mind as he charged straight through the melee at Dhoondiah Waugh and his bodyguards, heedless of any danger as his heart thudded in his breast.