A Good Soldier

by Richard Townsend Bickers

  “It has more to do with this matter than you realise, Hugh. Think about it. Whom could it benefit if you were to find yourself in an inextricable financial trap? Why, MacLean, of course! That would leave you utterly at his mercy. Can you not see that he inveigled you right from the start, deceived you? He traded on his friendship with your father to gain your trust. He had a deep grudge against everyone who enjoys a higher station in life than he was born to. By victimising you, he was getting some revenge on the military caste, whom he loathes. He won your gratitude and loyalty by an immediate display of generosity when you fell into adversity. But it was false. He invited those particular guests to his dinner party that night, to witness your quarrel with Pocock. He knew what manner of man Pocock is and that he was bound to pontificate about your regiments mutiny and to insult you. He knew you would challenge him to a duel, because that corresponded to your code and your character.

  “He must have hired a couple of ruffians to dress like your Sher Mahommed Khan and Karim Baksh, and hold up the MacLeans’ carriage and beat up Pocock. Then he tried to frighten you and make you panic into rushing away from Calcutta immediately. He provoked you into threatening him, again because it was in character for you to act so, which gave him the chance to rescind his partnership agreement with you and shed his responsibility for a half-share in the value of the cargo you brought here. At the same time, it put you deeply in his debt.”

  “By God! Do you really think he was so base and so scheming, Henry?”

  “I am convinced of it. It would not surprise me if I were to find out that he had, in some way, been in collusion with the river pirates and the Thugs, to make it even more difficult for you to pay his debt!”

  “I know you are not serious about that. But the rest of your reasoning is convincing; and shocking.”

  “There is only one thing I do not understand. Why did this witness, if he is a cousin of Anwar Ali’s, babble about what he saw?”

  “Indians use the word ‘cousin’ to describe any distant relation: a man would call his brother-in-law’s nephew’s father-in-law his cousin. It does not necessarily mean closeness.”

  Constance and Ruth joined them. “We’ve just made some fresh cookies,” said Constance, offering him a plate.

  “Biscuits.”

  “Don’t argue,” Ruth said. “Whatever you call them in England, these are home-baked by American hands: so they’re cookies, Mister.”

  It was a relief to have a harmless domestic jest to wrangle about. He was already bound to them by gratitude and affection for their care during his illness.

  Last night he had turned in his distress to Shakuntala only partly because he hoped she had heard, or could find out, if anyone knew or suspected what had happened at his go-down. The chief impulses that had driven him to her were affection, the need for comfort and the healthy urging of a body that had fully recovered its vigour.

  Flirting with Ruth, admiring her beauty, loving her for the solicitude she had shown him, if not for other reasons which he had not yet admitted to himself, he began to feel a mild shame for a kind of duplicity which had never complicated his female relationships before. The recognition of this emotion came to him with a surprise that equalled those he had had from Henry Whittaker and Shakuntala.

  Ruth also felt some agitation. Realisation of the nature of the chaff and contention between them had dawned on her with an abruptness to which she reacted with umbrage; because it undermined her independence. She had seen young male and female prairie wolves and bear cubs at play. She had seen their cuffing and wrestling change from good humoured sparring to sexual provocation and response. The admission that she needed Hugh Ramsey was chastening and she was not readily subdued. She had yet to realise in how many ways he could fulfil her needs; and she, his. It was not an issue, anyway, which she wanted to confront. His life was dedicated to India. The light at the end of what was, for her, a dark canyon, shone in America.

  Constance and Ruth went to keep an appointment with Mrs. Bond and her three daughters. With the onset of the Cold Weather it was agreeable to go out in the morning and forenoon. The doctor’s wife was abustle with all sorts of plans for concerts and charades during the coming evenings. She had even invited Mrs. Owthwaite along to talk about feasible projects. Constance and Ruth were determined to introduce the British, and anyone else whom they could persuade the other white families to accept, to the American style of square dancing. Ruth had learned to play the violin: almost her only concession to the artistic refinements demanded of a well-born Boston young lady. Both Henry and Constance could call the changes. Their three years out West had given them a robust and lively style. The Whittaker ladies gleefully predicted that the memsahibs and miss-sahibs of Nekshahr were about to experience considerable amazement.

  Ramsey, his thoughts on Ruth, remarked involuntarily “You are a most fortunate man, Henry.”

  “I know it, my boy.” He hesitated, divining what had prompted Hugh. “I hope you’ll enjoy the same happiness and good fortune some day.” He remembered his sons, as he did every day, and reflected that not all his fortune had been good nor all his days happy. Hugh was as good a surrogate son as he could ever expect to find. “Well, now, I’ve given a lot of thought to the first serious talk we had and I’ve come to some conclusions.”

  “I’m in your hands. I am no businessman, as you reminded me yesterday.”

  “Before I left home I paid a visit to my old university to learn what I could about this country. The cultivation of indigo has yielded vast profits and I find it is very little grown in this state. I believe we should make that our first priority. We should also establish a dye factory and ship the dye to other parts of India and to other countries. Next I favour cotton. For one thing, dye and cloth are complementary. Then, from the cotton plant we also get oil which can be used for cooking, and by grinding the seeds we get a very nourishing cattle food. We shall also ship the cotton cloth everywhere we can. Cattle food leads to cattle. As this is a Muslim state, we have a fine opportunity to rear beasts for slaughter and to build a tannery to turn their hides into leather: which we shall also ship out. What d’you think of that?”

  “I’m amazed and impressed. Will not the capital cost be extremely high?”

  “Not as high as the profits I figure we would earn in the first two years. I... my bank, that is, would soon recover the outlay.”

  “What inducement can we offer the Nawab?”

  “A considerable increase in revenue without the troublesome business of having to fight the taluqdars every time he gathers tax. We would be responsible for making the highest possible profit and paying him his share.”

  “It would please the landowners. We would buy their crops and hides. Much of the new planting and cattle-breeding would be on the Nawab’s estates, which would please him further.”

  “Convincing him isn’t going to be easy. I leave that entirely to you. It’s a fair division of our two fields of knowledge, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Hardly. The heavier burden falls on you.”

  “Wait and see, my boy. There will be many problems. Persuading the Nawab to accept so many innovations may be the least of them. You will have to convince the landowners, the Dewan and all the other influential men that the new projects will benefit them. You will have to get the Resident on our side; and convince him that what we plan to do will not threaten the interests of the East India Company. You may even have to deal with the Governor General.”

  “I hope I can justify your confidence.”

  *

  Captain Neville Thorn was at the dangal, the equivalent of a gymnasium and an arena, where the wrestlers trained. With a dozen and more other large men, he was practising dand: a form of the exercise which later generations in the Occident would know as the deep knees bend. The Indian version consisted of standing with the feet apart, clutching a stout staff at shoulder level. The wrestler squatted so that his buttocks touched his heels, then rose upright again helped by a st
rong pull on the staff. This developed the thighs and shoulders. The exercise, repeated fast and for long periods, quickened the breathing and enlarged the chest. Dand were traditionally carried out in a pit six or eight feet deep.

  After the dand came rhythmical swinging of heavy wooden skittle-shaped clubs in a variety of complicated patterns. Finally the men paired off and practised throws, changing partners from time to time.

  Thorn greatly relished these training sessions. They gave him an exhilarating feeling of health and vigour when he had completed them. The adulation of onlookers was gratifying. There was immense satisfaction in pinning another strong man to the ground. When vanquished he took it in good part as a sportsman. The others also bore no malice in defeat. After the strenuous exertion there was the comfort of sluicing his profusely sweating body with water flung over him from wooden pails by eager boys who hoped one day to become pahlwan themselves. Last came the sensuous pleasure of a massage with mustard oil, by a retired pahlwan with huge, hard hands.

  He enjoyed the banter and the comradeship, the rivalry and the professional gossip.

  One item of gossip offered to him that evening had nothing to do with wrestling. It was confided in him by one of his particular cronies while they were ostensibly absorbed only in trying to wrench one another’s limbs off, trap each other’s heads in an unbreakable lock, or thrust each other’s shoulders immovably onto the mat. Thorn’s friend spoke to him in a whisper between the ritual grunts they both emitted. Thorn questioned him in the same manner.

  From the dangal, Thorn rode straight to the Residency.

  “I apologise for disturbing you, sir.”

  “You have been disporting yourself among your muscular friends, I take it.”

  “I came directly from there because I have urgent information to impart, sir. It was given to me by a highly reliable man. He has been useful to us in the past.”

  “The fellow who is chief warder at the prison?”

  “That is the one, sir. The Nawab has ordered the transfer of fifty prisoners from the jails here, at Mirgaganj and Daryanagar to the old fort at Girbad. As you know, Girbad is not the most strongly defended point on the Karampur frontier.”

  “Fifty altogether or fifty from each prison?”

  “Fifty from each prison, sir. What is more, only Hindus are to go. It is all very strange. The head warder has been told to select men who are as young and vigorous as possible and to double their rations for the next week.”

  “Does that mean they are to leave for Girbad in a week’s time?”

  “Yes, sir, a week hence.”

  “Who gave him his orders?”

  “The Nawab personally.”

  “Did he give any reason for this transfer?”

  “To build and repair block houses.”

  “Then Owthwaite must have a hand in it. He would decide on the disposition of new defence posts. No doubt the convicts will go under military escort.”

  “A small squad, sir. The convicts will be chained, of course, so there will be no danger of an escape. They are not being marched there. They are to be taken by bullock cart: presumably to preserve their strength for the work they must do. Also as a measure of urgency: there are to be relays of animals so that the carts will travel day and night.”

  “Owthwaite is taking the Karampur threat seriously. How strong is the garrison at Girbad just now?”

  “Two companies, plus non-combatants. The fighting troops are all Mahommedans and have a fierce personal loyalty to the Nawab.”

  “Over two hundred troops, then. Who is in command?”

  “That is the most curious thing about this, sir. Each head warder is to accompany his batch of prisoners and hand them over to the Nawabzada.”

  “The Nawabzada is going to Girbad?”

  “So it seems, sir. It’s odd that they should be using convicts for this work. There is no precedent for it. Why waste time giving poor under-fed devils extra rations to build up their strength, and another couple of days getting them there, when they could empress labour locally and start the work at once?”

  “A very strange affair indeed, Thorn. It is unfortunate that I cannot verify it with Owthwaite, the Dewan or the Nawab. Not only would it compromise your source of information, but also you know how all those three resent any apparent intrusion on military matters.”

  “Perhaps it was Owthwaite’s idea to send the Nawabzada up there so that word would reach the Raja of Karampur and warn him how seriously the threat of war is being taken... let him know the frontier is strongly defended. Owthwaite gave me the impression that he quite sincerely does not want war.”

  “I agree. It should dampen the Nawab’s ardour for attacking Karampur, too, if his Heir Apparent is in the firing line.”

  “Yes, sir. And I hardly think the Nawabzada is likely to run any risks: he has never struck me as good military material! I doubt that he will incite his father to cross the frontier.”

  “This may be a fortunate turn of events, Thorn.”

  “A deuced odd business, just the same, sir. And the prison tailors’ shop here is making Karampur uniforms, it seems.”

  “Damned odd. You did well to report to me without delay.” A sudden access of warmth for his senior assistant reminded the Resident — did he ever forget it? — that he had three spinster daughters. And Thorn must crave the society of young white women. With unusual geniality he said “Come and have pot luck with us.”

  *

  It was after dark when a visitor arrived unobtrusively at Ramsey’s bungalow.

  Ramsey was taking the cool of the evening on the veranda, reading a copy of Blackwood’s Magazine borrowed from Dr. Bond. Sher Mahommed Khan’s inquisitiveness, pugnacity and zeal in defence of his master brought him to his feet and advancing along the semi-circular drive as soon as he heard a horseman enter the gate. Ramsey looked up from his magazine and saw his servant’s white-clad shape half-way down the drive, heard the murmur of voices and saw him returning quickly while the rider followed slowly.

  “Huzur, it is Dhala Rao.” Sher Mahommed Khan looked as benevolently pleased as an uncle springing a surprise; not that he thought a visit by any Hindu was much of an event.

  Ramsey went to welcome his friend of the river journey, the pleasant merchant-landowner from Agra way. He returned Dhala Rao’s smiling salutation with pleasure.

  “Come, be seated. What brings you to Nekshahr?”

  “I had business at Mirgaganj. There I heard that you had been sick. Then news came that your go-down had been destroyed in a fire. I have come to assure myself that all is well with you.”

  “Am I such an object of interest that word of my health and fortunes reaches so far from Nekshahr?”

  “You know that all Europeans in a state where there are so few of them are topics of talk. When it is one like you, with a distinguished father and famous grandfather, and who knows our customs and language as well as we do ourselves, of course the interest is all the greater.”

  “As you see, my health is restored: thanks to our excellent doctor.”

  “And your fortunes, if I may ask without offence?”

  “Could be much worse, Dhala Rao.”

  “You had disposed of much of your stock before the fire?”

  “Half of what was left after we had been plundered by Thag on the journey after we left the river.”

  “Hai mai! Arré bapré bap! Kaisa bipat... what misfortune. The gods were with you that you escaped death.”

  Sher Mahommed Khan had been waiting for a chance to stick his oar in. “It was I who was with the Bara Sahib Bahadur. And Karim Baksh, of course.” With a generous inflection, he admitted: “It was the Sahib himself who perceived that our fellow travellers were Thag. And who did as great slaughter among them as I... and Karim Baksh.”

  “Will you tell me about it, Sahib? This is a feat that deserves to go down in legend. To fall into the hands of Thag and survive!”

  Ramsey told the story, with frequent interpolat
ions and elaborations from Sher Mahommed Khan. When it was done, he gave the latter a look that there was no mistaking. Sher Mahommed Khan, obviously miffed but pretending unconcern, and Karim Baksh withdrew from earshot.

  “And all is well with your affairs, Dhala Rao?”

  “I am uneasy, Sahib. There is a bad atmosphere in Zafarala. The Nawab is feared and unloved. People are saying he is weak and frightened of those taluqdar who dare to defy him. One, Anwar Ali, was recently under siege but the Nawab weakly withdrew his soldiers and the tax-gatherer. The Raja of Karampur is sabre-rattling. If he sends his Army across the frontier, the people fear that the Nawab will not have the courage to fight him.”

  “The Nawab’s Army is the strongest of all: he has nothing to fear from Karampur. I do not believe he is frightened. He is acting with wisdom. He does not want war. If it comes, he has an excellent Military Adviser in Major Owthwaite Sahib.”

  “I have been to the frontier region to see for myself. I had business at Girbad. But the most important matter is, what can I do for you, Rumgee Sahib, to repay the great service you did me?”

  “Your arrival is opportune, Dhala Rao. I have a partner who has newly come to Nekshahr...”

  “I have heard of him: Ooitker Sahib.”

  “He is a banker, so our plans are well financed. But we need a friend like you outside Zafarala. I will explain to you in strict confidence what we hope to do. You will understand then the part that you can play.”

  Dhala Rao listened attentively, drawing on a huqqa, sipping Iasi, curds diluted with water, nodding with approval now and then.

  Ramsey concluded “Tomorrow I will arrange for all three of us to meet here in the morning.”

  “Ooitker Sahib is evidently a wise and experienced businessman, Rumgee Sahib. I am happy for you.”

  “Now, Dhala Rao, we must celebrate this reunion and forget about business. I will have food sent for you from a Brahmin kitchen, brought and served by one of your caste. When we have both eaten, I shall change my clothes and take you to see a friend of mine who is the best dancer in the land.”