‘Your measuring chain, it is a marvel of engineering, is it not? A hundred feet of blistered steel, I believe. Precise to an inch, so Colonel Hawke tells me.’
‘Sadly that’s not so, sir,’ replied King. ‘It’s a very old-fashioned chain, which expands in the heat. They wouldn’t let me have what I really wanted – compensation bars being too expensive, so they said.’
‘How massively disappointing for you.’
King glanced at his leader, looking for some hint of sarcasm in the remark. ‘It may seem a little selfish to you, sir – me wanting all this highly expensive equipment – but one needs to map accurately, or not bother at all. This trip must have given you proof of that. Colonels Lambton and Everest, now they mapped to a thousandth of a decimal place. They saw that as the only way to do the work we do. Surveyors will all tell you the same thing, sir. Oh, I know I’m soaring a bit high for a sergeant. I’ve been told that by other officers. But men have come up from lower and have done great things. Captain Cook, you know, came from very humble origins.’
‘Yes, but he was a navy man and therefore doesn’t count.’
Again, King realized he was being made fun of, but did not rise to the bait. He breathed loudly, as if pulling in fresh clean air. ‘The Himalayas, sir. Some of them have been done, but not all. Certainly not all. The ruler of Nepal, the King in Kathmandu, has closed off the borders again. We can’t get in there and we can’t get into Chinese Tibet. Someone, some day, is going to do it. I wish it could be me. I want to train Sajan as my artificer, my assistant, and map the unknown regions. Is that flying too high?’
‘Every man should have his ambitions, his aspirations, and the grander they are the better for his spirit.’
The stars were out now as the horses placidly plodded on. Gwilliams and Raktambar were also listening mutely to this conversation, interested in spite of themselves. Entertainment had been sparse over the past several weeks and this was as close to it as they were going to get.
‘I wish though, they had given me compensation bars.’
Crossman asked, ‘What makes them so expensive?’
‘The brass, I suppose. They’re fashioned of two bars, one of brass, the other of iron, fixed side by side, bolted together in the middle. Somehow the two metals expand differently and cancel each other out – I don’t know exactly how, for no one has explained that part to me – but what you get is a sort of adjustment going on all along the chain.’
‘You seek this precision like a philosopher seeks the meaning of life.’
‘Oh, yes – yes, I do,’ replied the eager young man, ‘as I have said to you. It is so necessary to the work. Do you know, until Lambton we did not know the shape of the Earth? Think of that! Our own home and we did not know its contours – not exactly.’
‘And what shape did he find it?’
‘Sort of roundish, with a flattening at the poles, I believe.’
‘Well, having made this astonishing discovery, mankind’s knowledge will no doubt advance at a tremendous pace. Are there other things – other than metals improperly expanding – which bedevil the profession?’
Once again King looked askance at the lieutenant. This time he said, ‘These frivolous sarcasms do you no justice, sir.’
‘I’m sorry. You can take it, King. I am listening, after all.’
‘I suppose. Yes, yes there’re other devils. The worst of them being refraction. Refraction of the light. That’s the most terrible of the demons. Let me explain to you, sir . . .’
‘I had the idea you were going to.’
‘. . . you may think that a mountainous region, or a jungled area, is the worst kind of terrain to map. Not so. Not so at all. The worst kind of country to map is a wide plain. You remember those droogs we saw in the south?’
‘Those hills like puddings dumped upon the landscape?’
‘That’s them, sir. Well, they’re excellent for setting up flagpoles for sightings across an expansive plain. Or Hindu temples, with their tall towers. One must have a trig point, sir, in order to sight from the base line. You will recall on the Rajputan plains there was nothing. Not so much as a high tree. One has to build towers oneself in such circumstances. It slows down the work enormously, as you can imagine. And out on those plains you remember the haze – the haze from the heat, from the smoke of thousands of cooking fires, from the dust swirled up from the earth – all those cause a refraction in the light when one is trying to sight through a telescope. This bending makes for imperfections in the readings and – well,’ King threw up his hands in a gesture of horror, ‘so we get inaccurate maps.’
‘So how did they map the plains accurately – or did they?’
‘Yes, they did. Colonel Everest invented a lamp and flares, which he used at night, thus beating the refraction. They would build a tower, use a lamp flanked by fires, and sight on the artificial light. He’s a most brilliant surveyor, Colonel Everest. I admire him a great deal.’
‘But a bit of a martinet I understand.’
‘All great men are entitled to lose their tempers, sir.’
Crossman thought wryly of the times over the last few days when he had lost his and how King had regarded that loss with utter disgust. Obviously he was not great enough to carry the sin.
‘So, heat expansion and refraction. Horrible devils, eh?’
‘There are many more. One has to have an accurate reading of one’s altitude when measuring the landscape. An aneroid barometer is the best instrument for this work.’
‘Which you haven’t got, I imagine, being too expensive?’
King played the game now, satisfied with having Crossman’s attention for once. ‘Exactly, sir. They wouldn’t let me have one. I have to make do with an ordinary barometer, or by taking the temperature of boiling water, a very primitive method. Sometimes we surveyors have to mark our position with astronomical observations, for which plumb lines need to be used. There’s another devil for you. The surrounding hills and the density of the earth beneath our feet cause plumb line deviations. Wicked things, deviations, as you can well imagine, sir.’
‘Perfectly ghastly, I’m sure. But tell me, didn’t the natives regard your man Everest as some kind of sorcerer? It smacks of witchcraft, all these midnight fires on towers, pointing things at the stars, dangling lobes of lead over the earth. I know if I were a local person I should be very suspicious of some pale-skinned stranger walking past my village wielding strange devices and artefacts, muttering oaths and curses, stopping to inscribe odd symbols in a book of magic. It’s a wonder they didn’t burn him.’
‘Oh, it wasn’t like that at all. He was like some far sultan come from a distant land. Why, on one occasion alone he reported having four elephants, forty-two camels, thirty horses and seven-hundred natives with him. He travelled with a huge retinue, sir. No expense spared. He was not a witch, he was one of the wise men, seeking the knowledge of a star!’
Crossman retorted pleasantly. ‘If you think my wife’s dowry is going to stretch to elephants and camels, you’re sadly mistaken, Sergeant. You were right earlier on. You need to rid your head of all those high ideals. Crossing the Himalayas like some modern day Hannibal? Better to settle for doing route maps which will aid the army on its marches. Elephants indeed! Do you hear this, Gwilliams? Elephants and camels. Ah, here we are at a bend and there’s a cloud over the moon. I suggest we stop and camp here. Never mind, King. If it’s meant to be, it’ll come to pass.’
The next morning Gwilliams shook Jack awake and he opened his eyes to see the camp crowded with heavily-armed men. Jezails and chora knives were much in evidence, but there were one or two matchlocks such as Jack had seen Hindus and Muslims carrying in India. The intruders were squatting around the campfire or simply standing around leaning on their muskets. There was little to differentiate this group from the Bochura they had encountered, except for an air of absolute confidence. It was clear these warriors came from a tribe which was used to being feared.
Crossma
n rose to his feet, splashed water on his face from a bowl, and addressed the company in Pashto.
‘Who is the chief here?’ he asked. ‘Or the chief’s first man?’
They seemed startled to be addressed in a language they understood. One very tall lean man, all skin and bone, stepped forward. He was a good half-head taller than Crossman who was no dwarf. Two startling blue eyes looked out from a leathery face covered with more creases than a well-used map. He wore a loose smock and cotton trousers, much the same dress as Crossman himself had on, but his lungi was wound round a pointed cap which Jack knew was called a kullah. His tulwar sabre was richly inlaid with semi-precious stones, but the most magnificent thing about him was his waistcoat, which was of richly embroidered black cloth covered in gold and silver thread designs. He saw Jack looking at this last item, looked down at himself, and when his head came up again his expression was just as richly patterned in smiles. Obviously he was proud of his waistcoat and nodded at Jack as if to say, Pretty impressive, eh? His face was, however, without the necessary intellect which a chief would need to rule here.
‘You are the chief’s man?’ said Crossman. ‘I am Lieutenant Jack Crossman of the 88th Connaught Rangers, a mighty regiment which has left death and destruction in its wake wherever it has been.’
‘You are British army?’ the rasping cigarette voice replied in surprise. ‘Where is your red coat and your tall hat?’
‘I left them at home, as did my soldiers. A soldier’s uniform is not made for travel in these hot, dusty regions. One needs the comfort of loose garments which let in the breeze. I commend you on your waistcoat, sir. Where did you get such a beautiful item of clothing, if I may make so bold as to enquire?’
Again the tall skinny man looked down at himself, but this time he fingered a hole no bigger than a pea in the front of the waistcoat.
‘I killed a man for it.’
‘With a single shot, by the look of it.’
‘Of course.’ The head came up again. ‘Otherwise I would be dead too.’
At that moment a crow-like bird, perhaps a black drongo, flew overhead. The warrior whipped his jezail to his shoulder and shot the bird in flight. He looked at Crossman and his eyes widened in another faint smile, as if to say this time, Just like that, eh? He loaded his weapon, slowly and deliberately, while staring at the handle of Jack’s revolver. His Tranter would be a prize here, in the hills, where such firearms were seldom seen.
While the pair were talking, one of the tribesmen began prodding Raktambar in the chest, forcing him backwards, seemingly trying to intimidate him. It was a challenge. Jack moved instantly to defuse the situation, especially not wanting them to pick on the only Hindu in the group. Gwilliams and King would not act without his orders, but the Rajput might very well decide to give as good as he got. Raktambar glanced his way, his expression saying that he was been patient long enough.
‘Stop that!’ ordered Jack in a very haughty English accent, one such as these hill tribesmen might have heard before from visiting officers of the Queen. The tone of his loud authoritative voice was enough to halt the tribesman in his tracks. ‘Keep your hands to yourself, you grubby man. If you wish to fight, we shall accommodate you later.’
The man stiffened, looked at Skinny, then moved away from Raktambar, glaring at Crossman.
‘You, one-hand,’ said Skinny, ‘you do not shout at a Kafirisi tribesman in such a way, unless you wish to die.’
Jack pushed his face forward and said in Pashto. ‘I am an officer of Queen Victoria’s army abroad. The greatest army in the world. You will not threaten me.’ Skinny edged away a foot or two. Jack continued briskly, ‘Now, Kafirisi you say? You are the people we have been seeking these many weeks. You will take me to your chief, Akbar Khan, for I have business with him.’ In English he added, ‘Men! Strike camp. Pack the horses. Do it in the most busy fashion you can muster, swiftly yet not with overdue haste. Make it seem as if their presence means nothing to us.’
Gwilliams immediately kicked sand on the fire to put it out, eased his saddle out from under a tribesman who was sitting on it and began to saddle his horse. King began to roll up his blankets, despite the fact that a man was standing on the end of them. When he reached a pair of feet in dirty sandals he gave the blanket a little jerk, not enough to topple the passenger, but enough to make him stumble backwards. The man gave a shout and put his hand on the hilt of his Khyber knife while staring hard at the sergeant. King took no notice of him whatsoever and began packing his equipment into a cotton bag. Raktambar too went quietly about his business. Crossman stepped around Skinny and attended to his own packing.
The tribesmen stood watching and waiting until it was all done. They gave no indication as to whether they were going to go along with Jack’s request to meet with their chief.
The tribesmen mounted their horses and kept them in a rough circle around Crossman and his men. There was still a great deal of tension in the air. Who knew what the relationship of this group was to the rest of the tribe? Perhaps they were a rough outfit, operating on their own? Certainly there was more autonomy within one of these tribes than in a regular army, with subchiefs and subsubchiefs taking much on themselves. There would be no reason to suppose they would not shoot all four intruders and steal their horses and goods before the rest of the tribe got their hands on them. Just because Crossman knew the name of their paramount chief did not mean he had free access to the region. Skinny and his followers might well have the authority to act on their own without necessarily going back to their head.
The first shot of course would lead inevitably to the deaths of Jack and the other three. They were surrounded by at least two dozen tribesmen, all of whom were undoubtedly crackshots. All of whom would think nothing of carving their bellies with those long Khyber knives.
Skinny sat patiently waiting as Jack was the last to mount.
Jack then said, ‘Oh drat, wait a minute, I haven’t performed my ablutions yet, have I? How stupid of me. I suppose it was the fact that we had guests this morning which drove it right out of my mind. Gwilliams, would you mind shaving me?’
The corporal’s bushy eyebrows shot up, but he dismounted.
Crossman then apologized in a smiling frank way, in Pashto and Urdu for the delay.
With everyone ready to move, Gwilliams deliberately took out a tin mug and filled it with water placing the mug on Jack’s horse’s rump so that it balanced there. Then he took out of his saddlebag one of those gentlemen’s travelling toilet packs, the kind that have pockets all the way along. He untied the strings and unrolled it. He lay it over the horse’s behind, alongside the mug of water. Next from the pack he took a mirror which he hooked to the lieutenant’s horse’s bridle, so that the officer could see what was happening to his face. He then took out a shaving brush, wetted it and soaped it, before beginning to lather Jack’s cheeks, chin and under his throat.
The horse, used to this morning procedure, remained perfectly still.
The tribesmen watched both men carefully with narrow eyes.
Next, Gwilliams took out a cut-throat razor from the pack and, opening it, carefully began to shave the officer. His hand was as steady as stone, the honed edge of the razor glinting cruelly in the early light. He started with the officer’s left cheek, scraping carefully down to the chin, then washing the foam from the razor in the mug water. Then it was the turn of the right side of his face, a more awkward movement. Finally he scraped under the chin and around the mouth, requesting that Jack bulge his cheeks with air for the best effect.
Gwilliams then took a small towel from his saddlebag and wiped away the residue of the soap, very carefully, and asked his lieutenant to inspect his face in the mirror, feeling over it with his hand for smoothness. A last satisfying scrape at a missed patch and all was complete. The toiletries were then placed the pack and the pack rolled. Gwilliams gave the remainder of the water in the mug to his horse and placed the items in his saddlebag.
Finally both
men mounted. Jack took his horse up alongside Skinny’s.
‘Are we ready then?’ he asked in Pashto. ‘Shall we ride?’
‘You do not want to bathe and have a shit first?’ asked Skinny. ‘I am sure we all have plenty time.’
‘No, I never loosen my bowels before noon, then it’s best I bathe afterwards, my English stomach not being used to Afghan food.’
This brought a howl of laughter from the tribesmen and they moved forward, the tension having filtered away during the wait.
‘What are they laughing at?’ whispered King to Crossman. ‘What was all that about? The shaving, sir?’
‘I wanted to show them I wasn’t afraid. That I had not a care in the world.’
‘And had you?’
‘Of course I had. Inside I was shaking like an aspen in a Suffolk breeze. Funny thing, having only one fist, King. A single does not react in the way two hands do. My knees were knocking together, but of course they couldn’t see them. I think we’re going to get to see Akbar Khan. It was touch and go.’
‘Was it?’ The sergeant went pale. ‘Would they kill us for nothing?’
‘Probably not for nothing. We are rich men beside them, even though we have brought little with us. Colonel Hawke was telling me that a Captain Williams was out with a party not far north of here just six months again. They were riding around a ravine and had to go single file through a gap between two cliffs. Williams was a little ahead of the others and went through first. His companions were quite close behind but by the time the first of them came through the other side Captain Williams was lying dead, covered in knife wounds, his upper body stripped of clothing and his horse and weapons gone. They never did find the killers, though they only had three or four minutes to perform the deed.’
‘Good Lord, sir! You would have thought he would have put up some sort of fight. Surely he had a loaded weapon with him?’
‘If he had, he had no time to fire it. These men live by plunder, Sergeant. They kill more swiftly than a snake. We’re not out of the woods yet, by any means. However, we have one thing in our favour, they’re fascinated by eccentricity. I can give them that, if need be. Another show like the shaving one, perhaps. I have an inventive mind, as do you.’
Brothers of the Blade Page 24