While that remained the case, Arthur reflected, the British presence in India would never amount to much more than a distasteful leeching operation. If it was allowed to continue, then he firmly believed that Britain’s greatest ever opportunity for enrichment and international prestige would be lost. With scrupulous governance, and an ethic of service to the people, India could be the brightest gem in any nation’s crown.
Such had been his thinking on the long voyage out from England. But now that he was here, the raw truth of India made him lose hope. The view of Calcutta from the deck of the Indiaman was as nothing compared to the assault on the senses that greeted Arthur as he stepped out of the small boat on to the roughly constructed quay. Every kind of filth was impacted on the ground and at the entrance to the nearest street lay a dead dog, crushed by a cart so that its entrails had burst from its belly and were now covered in a dark droning cloud of flies.
‘Salaam, sahib!’ A thin native in a loincloth scurried up and struck his forehead as he bowed to Arthur. Bright white teeth flashed in a smile. ‘I take your bags, sahib.’
‘I don’t have any,’ Arthur replied. ‘They’re on the ship.’
The porter glanced over the English officer for anything else that might need carrying, but Arthur waved him aside.
‘Out of my way, please.’
‘Acha, sahib!’ The porter bowed and hopped to one side as Arthur started along the quay towards the distant mass of Fort William. The squalor of the rapidly expanding town sprawled back from the banks of the river along filthy thoroughfares that Arthur glanced down as he made his way through the crowd of porters, beggars and merchants. The sounds of their cries, alien and shrill, the strangeness of their clothes and rags and the colour of their skins made Arthur keenly aware of how out of place he must seem. Indeed, as he glanced round, he realised that he was almost the only white man visible on the quay.
At length the quay gave way to a patch of mud at the river’s edge where children were playing in the water, splashing each other in silvery spray that reminded Arthur how hot he was. He wore the uniform in which he had set off from England, made from a heavy wool that might be sensible for this time of year back in Europe but was a positive torment here in Calcutta. He resolved to find himself a good local tailor as soon as possible to have some uniforms cut from a lighter material. It would be good if the men of the 33rd could be similarly dressed, or a hard march and a fight in this climate might well finish them.
Arthur entered Fort William and made his way to the elegant whitewashed headquarters, surrounded by a wide walkway which was raised above the ground and shaded by an overhanging roof. Several officers were sitting on cane chairs round a low table, talking quietly as they drank. Behind them squatted a small figure in a linen robe operating a large canvas screen that fanned the officers as they sat. They stood up as Arthur approached, one or two of them unsteadily, and exchanged a salute with him.
‘Good day, gentlemen. Colonel Arthur Wesley at your service. Is the Governor General at headquarters today?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the senior officer, an India Company major, replied. ‘Sir John is in his office. Do you wish me to show the way?’
Arthur nodded. ‘I’d be obliged. Might I know your name?’
‘Harry Ball, sir.’ He smiled readily.‘A regular, before I took the John Company bounty, and I ain’t looked back since. If you’d follow me?’
He led the way inside the headquarters and Arthur took the chance to examine the man. So this was one of the East India Company officers. At first glance there was only the uniform to distinguish Ball from the officers in His Majesty’s service. Ball seemed to be in his mid-forties, grey hair cropped short above a creased and tanned face. He looked competent enough, Arthur decided, hoping that he was typical of his kind. There were few enough King’s regiments in India as it was. Without the white-officered Company units the lands held by the three presidencies could be swallowed up by any maharaja, nawab or nizam whose greed and ambition got the better of him.
Major Ball led Arthur up a wide flight of steps to the offices on the second floor. The corridors and rooms of the building were airy and spacious and the Europeans who worked there were bent over their desks, cooled by one of the ubiquitous fans worked by the silent figures squatting discreetly at the side of each room. The Governor General’s office was on the corner of the building, looking out over the ramparts to the broad expanse of the river beyond where the Queen Charlotte lay peacefully at anchor amid the other shipping. A man dressed in a loose shirt was reading some papers that lay on top of an enormous desk of solid design. His plain coat rested on the back of his chair.
Ball tapped on the doorframe. ‘Sir?’
The Governor General looked up and Arthur saw that he was an older man, in his fifties with a kindly face and keen eyes. He smiled. ‘I assume you are off the ships that arrived this morning.’
‘Yes, sir. Colonel Arthur Wesley. Officer commanding the 33rd Foot.’
‘The 33rd?’ Sir John Shore leaned back and scratched his chin. ‘We were expecting you a bit earlier. By the new year at any rate. Your regiment set sail in June, did it not?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Slow going, Wesley,’ he said in a vaguely irritated tone.
Arthur felt unfairly slighted. It was hardly his fault if the vagaries of wind and sea had delayed the arrival of his regiment. But there was little point in making an issue about it the moment he met his new superior.
‘Yes, sir. I thought so. But I’m sure the captains of the Company ships were doing their best to make the swiftest possible passage.’
‘I suppose so.’ Sir John waved him towards one of the chairs arranged on the far side of his desk. ‘Thank you, Ball. You may go.’
Major Ball nodded and turned away, his footsteps echoing along the corridor as he strode off to rejoin his comrades on the veranda.
‘Good man, that.’ Sir John nodded after him. ‘Knows the country well, and his men even better. Wish there were more officers like him in the Company’s battalions. They have caused me quite a bit of trouble since I was appointed. Some of the blackguards even had the audacity to threaten mutiny last January. Threatened to take charge of India and run it for themselves unless I turned a blind eye to their peculations, and pressed the Company to increase their pay.’ Sir John shrugged the matter aside. ‘Anyway, Colonel Wesley, I expect you didn’t report to me just to hear about the grumbles of our discontented Company officers, eh?’
Arthur smiled. ‘No, sir. But it is as well to garner any information that may be of use later on.’
‘Yes, I believe so. Anyway, I imagine you would like to be briefed on the situation here, before we attend to the more mundane matters concerning the billeting of your men.’
‘I should be grateful for that, sir.’
Sir John nodded. ‘Very well, then. First, you will not be aware of it, but Spain has allied itself with France.We had the news from an overland dispatch that reached Calcutta last week.’
Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. The odds against England winning the present war had lengthened considerably.
‘When was the alliance made?’
‘Back in October. And for all we know it has already crumbled. That is the burden of living so far from London, I’m afraid.We are never less than several months behind events taking place in Europe, but we must operate on the basis of the last official dispatch from England.To that end we now find ourselves at war with three out of the four major powers who have influence in the far east, France, Holland and Spain. We are not at war with Portugal. Not yet. Not as far as I am aware, at least. Of course, the biggest threat to English interests in India comes from the French.We saw off the Compagnie des Indes some years back, but since the revolution they have been doing their best to stir up discontent in the subcontinent. That’s one of the reasons for the 33rd’s being sent out here.’
‘Is there trouble brewing?’
‘There’s always trouble on
one front or another,’ Sir John replied wearily. ‘The presidency of Calcutta is an area somewhat bigger than England, controlled by perhaps no more than two thousand of our people. If the natives ever took it into their heads to unite and crush us it could be done in an instant.’ He stared at the new arrival.‘I tell you,Wesley, our remit here is a very delicate affair. We rule because we have what the locals call iqbal.’
‘That’s their word for good luck, or good fortune, isn’t it?’
Sir John smiled with surprise and nodded. ‘I’m impressed. Where did you learn that?’
‘I had plenty of time to read about my new posting on the voyage over, sir,’ Arthur explained. ‘I have even made a little progress in one of the local tongues, though of course I will need some further tutoring.’
Sir John laughed. ‘That’s the damnedest thing I ever heard! I doubt that one in a hundred of my staff here can claim more than a few words of Hindoostani.What on earth did you do that for?’
Arthur shrugged. ‘It seemed the sensible thing to do, sir. If a man is to serve to best effect he must be familiar with the geography and people amongst whom he is required to campaign.’>
‘That’s a bloody odd notion,Wesley. But if you think it serves a purpose then stick with it.’
‘I intend to, sir.’
‘Ah . . . where was I?’
‘Iqbal, sir.You said we ruled here because the locals believed in our good fortune.’
‘Yes, that’s it.That’s the most important thing for you to learn while you are here, Wesley. Whatever else you do, you will be judged by the good fortune that attends you.Therefore it is vital that you suffer no reverses, that you build on a reputation for success. That means that you must plan for every eventuality, consider every detail of your operations so that they progress as if blessed by fate, rather than as a result of tireless staff work.You follow me?’
Arthur nodded.
‘Good. Because you will need all the luck you can get to meet the challenges facing us here in India. Bombay, Madras and Calcutta are surrounded by the territories of powerful nations. Some of them are bitterly opposed to us. Take that fellow Tipoo Sahib, the Sultan of Mysore. Caused no end of trouble to my predecessor, Lord Cornwallis. We’ve had an uneasy peace with Mysore since then, but now I hear from my spies that Tipoo is negotiating with France to enter into some kind of alliance. Worse still, the Nizam of Hyderabad and the rulers of the Mahratta confederation are employing a large number of French officers to train and command their armies. Of course, we have had a number of English officers in the employ of such states, but lately they have been having their contracts cancelled and finding themselves thrown out by their former employers, and always replaced by a Frenchman. For now we have peace, but the French will be using their influence to do whatever they can to defeat us in India.’
‘I imagine they would, sir,’Arthur responded.‘While the Navy keeps them from the shores of England, all the French can do is attack our trade. The loss of India would cost England dear.’
‘Then make sure that your brother realises that as well as you do.’ Sir John nodded. ‘That’s right, I’ve done a little research on you too, Colonel. Your brother Richard has been on the Board of Control for a few years now, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes, sir, that’s right.’
‘Then I urge you to make him aware of the dangers facing us here. God knows I have tried my best to wake London up to the situation, but perhaps a family connection might make a difference.’
‘Trust me, sir. Richard knows how important India is to England’s interests. But I will keep him abreast of events here, as I see them,’ he added carefully.
‘Very good. I appreciate that.’ Sir John spoke with quiet sincerity.‘Now then, I imagine you’ll want to make arrangements for your men?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘For the present the 33rd is to be accommodated here in the fort. Barracks have been prepared for them.When I say prepared, I mean that they have been emptied.You will of course have to spend a little time and effort to make them . . . habitable. But I would not make them too comfortable if I were you, Colonel.’ Sir John smiled slightly as Arthur gave him a searching look.
‘Sir?’
‘Let’s just say that the 33rd might well be afforded the chance to get to grips with the enemy sooner than you think. I can’t give you the details yet, but you will be told in good time. Now, if you’ll forgive me I have some tedious correspondence that demands my attention.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Arthur rose from his chair. ‘Thank you, sir.’
Sir John looked at him for a moment in silence before he concluded. ‘India might not be every Englishman’s cup of tea, Wesley. But you’re young and you look healthy enough. Who knows, India might be the making of you.After all, this is the land of the pagoda tree. Shake it hard enough and a fortune will be yours.There’s plenty of money and fame for the taking for those with the courage, and the good fortune, to seize it.’
‘Iqbal.’ Arthur smiled.
‘That’s right. Iqbal. It means everything here. Make sure you have it.’
Arthur shrugged. ‘Frankly, sir, I don’t believe in luck. It is simply too fickle to trust. I place my faith in myself. I aim to make my own success, and leave fate to others.’
‘Really? Nevertheless, I wish you good luck, Colonel Wesley.’ He glanced down at his papers, and Arthur was turning to leave when the Governor General suddenly looked up. ‘Oh! I forgot to say, welcome to India.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Sir John laughed. ‘You might thank me now. But I promise you there will be times when you curse the moment you ever set foot here. When that happens, and it will, then you will find yourself reflecting that you really are welcome to India.’
Chapter 24
The barracks that had been allocated to the 33rd were in a deplorable condition, Arthur discovered. It was true that they had been emptied of their last occupants in readiness for the arrival of the King’s regiment, but whether the last creatures to dwell there had been men or beasts was hard to discern. The rooms were filthy and some had clearly housed animals, from the musky smell and the presence of dried grass and traces of excrement.
As soon as the equipment and serge coats had been set down outside the men set to work scrubbing the barracks out with vinegar. The old bedrolls were taken out and burned. This immediately drew the attention of the quartermaster of the fort who angrily demanded to know who would be paying for a new issue. Arthur forced himself to respond calmly to the man and point out the need for his troops to live in the healthiest possible conditions. He indicated one of the bedrolls waiting to be added to the smoking pyre.
‘Do you see that?’ Arthur pointed. ‘The damn thing is crawling with lice.’
‘Lice?’The quartermaster snorted.‘Lice never hurt anyone, sir. That’s a perfectly serviceable bedroll. I demand you stop this wanton destruction of Company property at once!’
‘You’re right.’ Arthur nodded, with a slight smile. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it.You men!’ He called over to two soldiers standing by the pile of bedrolls. ‘Bring that one over here!’
They dragged the bedroll over and laid it on the bare ground between the two officers.The quartermaster’s nose wrinkled as a waft of old sweat and decay rose up. The material of the bedroll was stained, worn and torn in places, and over it all scurried the numerous tiny slivers of lice.
‘Perfectly serviceable, eh?’ Arthur looked at the quartermaster, and his expression hardened.‘Let’s see, shall we? Lie down on it.’
‘What?’ The quartermaster looked surprised, then horrified.
‘I said lie down on that bedroll,’ Arthur replied harshly. ‘You say it’s serviceable. I want you to demonstrate that to these men.’
The two soldiers watched the exchange in amusement, thoroughly enjoying the quartermaster’s discomfort.
‘You can’t be serious, sir.’ The quartermaster looked down at the bedroll and winced. ‘It’s practi
cally alive with lice. I’m not going near it.’
‘I see.Then I take it you’re saying that it’s not serviceable after all?’>
The quartermaster squirmed miserably.
‘Well?’ Arthur pressed him. ‘Speak up, man.’
‘Perhaps not, sir.’
‘Good. Now I want you to get back to your desk and make sure that my men are issued with new bedrolls. Before the end of the day, understand?’
The quartermaster looked round at the soldiers cleaning the barracks and those still carrying out more bedrolls for the fire.‘All of them, sir?’
‘Every single man.’
‘Who’s going to pay for it?’
Arthur pointed at the bedroll. In the corner was a stencil: Property of the East India Company. ‘Since they belong to the Company the Company can pay for the replacements. See to it. Now, please.’
The quartermaster puffed out his cheeks and shook his head, but Arthur glared at him, daring him to make any further protest, and the man turned away and walked stiffly back towards headquarters.Arthur smiled as he watched him leave, then turned and saw that the two soldiers were grinning at him.
He frowned. ‘What are you standing there for? Get that bedroll up and burn the damned thing before anyone catches anything from it.’
‘Yes, sir!’ The soldiers bent to their task at once, lifting the spoiled bedroll by the ends and carrying it over to the blaze before tossing it on to the pyre. There was a faint pop and crack as the lice started to burst in the flames.
The next day, Arthur began to drill his men in earnest. The Governor General’s hint that the regiment would soon be seeing action was at the front of Arthur’s mind as he watched the sergeants and officers putting the 33rd through its paces over the following weeks.
Sir John made sure that the newly arrived colonel was introduced to Calcutta society, such as it was, as soon as possible. Calcutta was as wild a town as Dublin; the officers drank and gambled to even greater excess than any of the young swells that Arthur had known at the castle. He did his best to partake of the social life of the small European community of Calcutta, and drank with the officers in moderation, but he tended to withdraw from their company once the high jinks began, as befitted a man with his senior rank.
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