‘Oh, yes. He has been given a title, in the Irish peerage.’ North spoke the last words with emphasis and some relish. ‘But still, a peerage is a peerage, eh? I am sure your brother will be delighted with the honour.’
Arthur knew that Richard would see the reward as a very poor second to the British peerage he aspired to, but he smiled at North. ‘Of course, sir. Delighted.’
‘And I imagine that you look forward to emulating his triumph. Though I dare say you will admit that your path to success is being smoothed by having a brother who is the highest authority in India.’
Arthur felt his cheeks flush at the naked accusation that he was benefiting from nepotism. It was a charge that he knew had been levied against him in the past by other officers, and no doubt was still bandied about to explain his various appointments. But had he not proved worthy of every task that had been assigned to him? He had ably commanded one wing of General Harris’s army. He had brought peace and prosperity to Mysore, and thanks to his system of supplying his forces in the field he had led his forces further into the heart of India, and marched faster, than any British commander before him. And still his accomplishments were written off as the product of family connections. Good God, when will this end, he thought furiously. He forced himself to keep a calm exterior as he turned to North.
‘I can assure you, sir, that the Governor General would never put his family above the needs of his nation. Nor would I actively seek preferment on such a basis.’
‘Of course not.’ North nodded. ‘Your achievement is a credit to you, young man. To have assumed such a command as your present one, while still only a colonel, is tribute enough to your talent. I can only imagine how many officers of superior rank serving in India must regard you as something of a prodigy and toast your continued success. However, experience would suggest that there might be some resentment at the positions of authority that have come your way.’
Admiral Rainier coughed. ‘Steady on, North.You go too far. I have it on good authority that Wellesley is the right man for the job. Of course there will be some old soaks who grumble about his success. There always are.’
‘Some?’
‘Enough of this!’ Rainier blustered, grabbing his glass. ‘It’s time for the toasts! Gentlemen! To His Royal Majesty, King George III!’
‘The King!’ the others responded.
‘I give you one more toast,’ Rainier continued. ‘To our good host, Colonel Wellesley, and may glorious victory attend him . . . wherever the bloody government decides to send him in the end!’
A few days later another message arrived from Richard. The situation in Calcutta was becoming more vexed, his brother told him. He had decided that if the expedition was to be sent to Egypt then it would need to be reinforced, in which case it would be extremely difficult for Richard to justify maintaining an officer of Arthur’s rank in command of so large a force.Worse still, Richard wrote, it seemed that General Baird had designs on securing the command for himself and had been busy canvassing all the senior military officers in India to support his application. Indeed, the Commander in Chief of the forces at Calcutta, Sir Alured Clarke, had strongly urged Richard to give the command to Baird. Arthur must prepare himself for the possibility that he would be required to hand over the command to a superior officer.
As Arthur read this, a sense of bitter betrayal entered his soul. Had not Richard himself told him that he prized Arthur above all officers in India? Now, here he was, buckling under the pressure of opinion from men motivated by little more than professional jealousy, and, in the case of Baird, a more personal rivalry. The same evening Arthur sat down to write a reply with a heavy heart. He told Richard that he must make a clear and final decision on the matter. Either he must confirm Arthur’s command of the expeditionary force, or he must choose another officer. Any doubts about his ultimate authority would only serve to hamper Arthur’s attempts to collect the supplies he required, and undermine his standing with subordinate officers. He asked Richard to respond as soon as possible and resolve the matter.
The days passed slowly as he waited for a reply, and the more he reflected on the situation the more he realised that Richard had staked more than was sensible, or at least politically wise, on the appointments he had given him. If an official as far from Calcutta as Frederick North was aware of the resentment arising from Arthur’s preferment, then such a feeling must be widespread indeed. And who knew, perhaps the envious muttering of those in India had already reached the ears of Parliament and the board of directors of the East India Company back in London? After the prosecution of Warren Hastings, all subsequent Governor Generals had to be wary of being seen to wield power too partially, or for personal gain. Richard had already risked enough in making Arthur Governor of Mysore. Elevating him over the heads of military officers of higher rank and greater experience would be to court political ruin. Richard’s hands were tied, Arthur realised, and he gloomily awaited the inevitable news of his replacement from Calcutta.
But before any such message could arrive, a frigate docked at Trincomalee bearing a dispatch from London. Arthur was summoned to the office of the Governor shortly afterwards. As he entered the room, he saw that Rainier was already seated opposite North’s desk.The Governor waved him towards a spare chair, and began the meeting at once.
‘Dundas has decided to send the expedition to Egypt,’ he said bluntly. ‘The transports, and Admiral Rainier’s squadron, are to sail to Bombay to meet up with other forces before making for the Red Sea. Are your men and your ships ready?’
Arthur had taken the news to be confirmation of the loss of his command. But almost at once he realised that it raised another problem. One that could do untold damage to his reputation.
‘Sir, there are still a few supply issues to resolve, but nothing that can’t be settled once we reach Bombay. However, I am waiting for the Governor General to make a final decision over the command of the force. If he has decided to replace me, then I can hardly quit Trincomalee before the new commander arrives . . .’
Admiral Rainier nodded as soon as he got the point. ‘No. I can see how that would look. You going off in high dudgeon, taking your army with you. I know that’s what the orders say, but it won’t count for much once tongues start wagging.’
‘Precisely, sir.’ Arthur turned to North. ‘I should wait until I hear from Calcutta.’
‘But you can’t wait.’ North tapped the dispatch.‘It says you are to set sail immediately.’ He smiled. ‘Whatever the cost to your reputation.’
Chapter 61
The fleet set sail early in February and arrived at Bombay in March. During the voyage the fleet was overhauled by one of the fast packet ships used to carry dispatches. Arriving too late at Trincomalee, the ship had set off after the fleet. There was a message from Richard to inform his brother that Major General Baird was now in command of the expedition. Arthur hurriedly wrote a dispatch to Baird explaining his actions and sent the packet ship back to Ceylon. For the rest of the voyage he slipped into a melancholy mood and upon reaching Bombay began a detailed report of his preparations and advisory notes for his replacement.
Baird finally caught up with the expeditionary force at the beginning of April. He immediately summoned Arthur to meet him in the Governor’s residence. Arthur took his reports with him, and entered the ornate entrance to the building with a sense of foreboding. His mood was not helped by an itching sensation that had begun a few days earlier and now affected most of his body. The army surgeon he had consulted had served long enough in India to recognise the symptoms at once.
‘It’s the Malabar Itch, I’m afraid, sir,’ Dr Scott said as Arthur buttoned up his shirt. ‘You’re in for an uncomfortable time over the coming weeks.’
‘How does this Malabar Itch develop?’
‘Once the skin irritation covers your body you can expect blisters to follow.They will erupt and spread the infection which will make sleep all but impossible.’
Arthur swa
llowed. ‘And then?’
‘Well, if it doesn’t drive you mad enough to kill yourself, you can expect the blistering to recede after two or three weeks. Full recovery will take some months and you will need to rest, sir. No soldiering.’
‘Damn it, man, I’m supposed to be leaving to fight in Egypt within a month.’
‘A month?’ Dr Scott shook his head. ‘Believe me, sir, in a month’s time you will be bed-bound.There’s no question of your embarking on a campaign for a long time.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Arthur snapped as he pulled on his coat and made for the door. He paused, and turned back. ‘Is there anything to do to treat the illness?’
‘The usual treatment is an ointment composed of lard and sulphur.’ Dr Scott pursed his lips. ‘I’ve heard that some of my colleagues have had more success by having their patients bathe in diluted nitric acid.’
Arthur winced. ‘Sounds painful.’
‘It is, sir. But you might want to consider it.’
‘I might,’ Arthur muttered as he left the dispensary.
Now, a few days later, he felt the hot prickle of the blisters chafing against his clothes and it took a great effort to resist the urge to scratch viciously at the irritation. He took a deep breath and entered the office assigned to Baird.There were a number of men present, some of whom Arthur recalled from the day he had assumed control of Seringapatam. One or two of them glanced at him with barely concealed smugness in their expressions. Baird was seated behind a large desk and looked up the moment Arthur closed the door behind him.
‘Wellesley. How are you?’
‘I’m well, sir.’ Arthur considered asking if Baird’s voyage had been pleasant, but thought better of the impulse, under the circumstances. ‘I take it you received my letter, sir.’
‘Yes,’ Baird replied. There was a silence and Arthur braced himself for a harsh dressing down. ‘As far as I am concerned you did the right thing, Wellesley. If you had left it any longer the winds would not have been favourable for the Red Sea.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Arthur felt the relief wash through his body at the general’s words. He approached the desk and handed his document folder over. ‘My report, sir. And the plans and documents pertaining to the campaign.’
Baird took the folder and placed it on his desk. ‘I’ll read through that as soon as possible, and consult you again then. In the meantime, I have one question for you.’
‘Sir?’
‘I know that there have been some differences of opinion between us in the past, Wellesley, but I’m not foolish enough to bear a grudge. I’d be grateful if you would serve as my chief of staff. Well, will you do it?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Arthur replied. ‘Of course. I’d be honoured.’
‘Good!’ Baird smiled genuinely. ‘I’d hoped you’d agree. Now then, I’ll read through your report and then we’ll talk again.’
The chance did not arise, as the illness took its hold on Arthur. The blisters spread across his skin until his whole body was encrusted in white protrusions the size of peas. If he scratched at them, the blisters burst and spread their foul contents, and left him in even more discomfort. Arthur attempted to distract himself by reading as much as possible, and writing a long letter each day to Kitty. As Dr Scott had said, sleep became impossible since every point of his body that was in contact with the bedding felt as if it was on fire. After a few days Arthur finally consented to try the nitric baths and substituted one kind of agony for another as the treatment left his skin feeling almost unbearably sore and tender.
General Baird came to see him early in May. He stood a short distance from the bed and shook his head sadly as he gazed down at Arthur.
‘The fleet is sailing tomorrow. I wish you were coming with us.’
‘So do I, sir.’
‘I can understand that. After all the work you have put into preparing this army, you deserve to be there when it goes into action.You’ve done a fine job,Wellesley. I have no doubt that your brother’s confidence in your abilities is fully justified.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘There is a ship, the Susannah, which is waiting here to pick up the last consignment of powder. She leaves in ten days. If you have recovered by then, you can leave with her and catch us up. After that, the shift in the trade winds pattern will make it almost impossible to reach the Red Sea in time.’
‘I understand, sir.’
‘Once again, my thanks.’ Baird smiled. ‘I think you’ll understand if I refrain from shaking your hand.’
Arthur laughed, then winced as the movement brought on a fresh wave of fiery irritation.
‘I hope to see you in Egypt, then.’
Arthur nodded. ‘Goodbye, sir.’
His recovery proceeded slowly, too slowly to re-join the expedition, and Arthur watched sadly from the window of the hospital as the Susannah slipped her moorings and headed out to sea.
Three days later a cargo ship arrived with the news that the crew had witnessed the Susannah founder in a storm, taking every soul aboard with her.
When Arthur heard this, he could not help wondering at the perversity of fate. To have given him a reputation-making command only to take it away, then make him too ill to join the expedition, and thereby miss a terrible death at sea. It was impossible to know if there was any divine design to his life. Rather, he seemed to be swung from fortune to misfortune with the regularity of a metronome. As his health slowly recovered Arthur’s grievance against Richard for his decision to replace him continued to fester after an exchange of letters failed to resolve their differences. Richard refused to acknowledge that he had been pressured into withdrawing Arthur’s command, and maintained that the reason for his decision was his need for Arthur’s services in India.
Once he was well enough to travel, Arthur took a ship to Mangalore and then rode inland back to Seringapatam. He arrived early in May, as a thunderstorm lashed the city. Arthur’s illness had turned his hair grey at the temples, and his skin was still acutely sensitive as a result of the painful treatment he had undergone to cure the Malabar Itch. Vingetty did his best to make his master comfortable as the humidity of the monsoon season continued to aggravate his condition. He resumed his duties as military governor and summoned Barry Close to a meeting as soon as he returned to his office.
‘It’s good to see you back, sir.’ Close smiled warmly as he entered the office and shook Arthur’s hand.
‘I trust that Mysore has been running smoothly in my absence.’
Close cocked his head to one side. ‘We have peace, trade and taxes, but there are still a few malcontents out there trying to stir up bad feeling against the Company.’
‘Thus it ever was,’ Arthur replied wearily. ‘But nothing to concern us unduly, I take it?’
Close hesitated a moment before he replied. ‘I’m not so sure, sir. I’ve had some disturbing reports from my agents in the Mahratta federation.’
‘Well?’
‘It seems that some of the warlords have hired themselves a number of French mercenaries to train scores of battalions of new recruits.’
‘Which warlords exactly?’
‘Scindia and Holkar.At the moment Holkar is remaining loyal to the Peshwa, but Scindia?’ Close shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea what the devil’s up to.’
‘But you have some suspicions,’ Arthur prompted.
‘Yes, sir.Yes I do.’ Close stroked his chin. ‘I believe he intends to rise up against the Peshwa, and impose a puppet ruler of his own. Scindia’s men have also been raiding into Hyderabad. It’s possible he plans to seize control of Hyderabad as well.’
Arthur quickly thought through the implications. ‘If that happens, Scindia will pose a far greater threat to our interests than Tipoo ever did.’
‘That’s my fear, sir.’ Close nodded. ‘And we would have a war on our hands, the like of which has never been witnessed on Indian soil.’
Chapter 62
Napoleon
Paris, July 1800
‘I gave them a great victory!’ Napoleon slammed his fist down on the desk. ‘What more do they want of me?’
The First Consul and his closest advisers had just returned to the Luxembourg Palace after the celebrations of the anniversary of the fall of the Bastile. There had been the usual parades by the National Guard units, a few speeches to remember those who gave their lives for the revolution, and then the entry into the arena of over a hundred of the veterans of Marengo. Lucien had planned the moment carefully. The men wore tattered uniforms, some were bandaged, and they carried the colours of the Austrian regiments that had surrendered in the rout that followed Desaix’s heroic counter-attack. When the soldiers appeared the band struck up a specially composed piece of uplifting music, and the tens of thousands of Parisians who had gathered to watch the spectacle were supposed to burst into wild patriotic cheers. Instead they remained stonily silent and the final fanfare sounded flat and false as the notes faded. Napoleon had barely been able to contain his fury as the carriages made their way back to the palace, and finally gave vent to his rage as they entered the First Consul’s private apartments. Lucien, Talleyrand and Fouché had sat still through the tirade and now waited a moment to be sure that the storm had run its course before daring to respond.
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