The Generals r-2

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by Simon Scarrow


  He reached the capital just after sunset one night, and rode quietly round the walls of the city until he reached the Dowlut Baugh. There was sure to be a mass of paperwork and other duties awaiting his attention, but Arthur promised himself a good night’s rest before he resumed his duties as military governor.

  There was one letter he did attend to. It was from Richard in his own hand and Arthur broke the seal and read it while a servant prepared a bath for him. Richard was delighted by his success against Dhoondiah Waugh. No one in India could now doubt Arthur’s potential as a military commander. He had brought peace to a land larger and more populous than all the islands of Britain. His return to Seringapatam was fine timing, since the need to mount an expedition to seize Java was more pressing than ever. Richard offered his brother the task of planning the operation, preparing the men and supplies required, and ultimately commanding the force. He concluded, in words that warmed Arthur’s heart:

  I employ you because I rely on your good sense, discretion, activity and spirit. I cannot find all those qualities united in any other officer in India.

  Arthur set the letter down and leaned back in his chair to gaze out of the window. Outside, the moon gleamed in the starry sky, bathing the ornate gardens of the palace in a silvery loom, and the Cauvery flowed like a black ribbon across the lush landscape of Mysore.The feeling of being at peace was overwhelming, and Arthur realised that, finally, he had achieved a recognition he could be satisfied with.

  Chapter 60

  Trincomalee, Ceylon, January 1801

  Out in the harbour the transports lay at anchor, while around them the placid waters teemed with small craft from which the natives sold fruit, carvings, jewellery and jugs of spirits to the sailors and soldiers aboard the ships. Despite the fact that the ships had arrived in the harbour some weeks earlier trade was still thriving and at least it gave the men something to do while the preparations for the expedition continued. Arthur and his small staff had been obliged to make their headquarters in the offices of a burgher trader, since the Governor of Ceylon - the Honourable Frederick North - had declined to offer them accommodation at the fort. Indeed, his lack of hospitality and helpfulness was causing considerable delay in making Arthur’s small flotilla ready to sail.

  There were over five thousand soldiers aboard the transports and North had refused to allow them permission to land, not even to carry out exercise and training. The reason he gave was that Ceylon had been in British hands for less than five years and the last thing the Governor needed was for some insensitive, or inebriated, soldier to cause offence to the natives or the local population of Dutch traders and their families. So the men remained crowded in the transports while Arthur did his best to complete the loading of supplies into the transports’ holds. There were still shortages of biscuit, salt beef, medicines, spirits and above all ammunition. Once again, the officials of the Company were proving reluctant to authorise the release of their stocks of powder. At first Arthur had tried to persuade North and his officials to see reason and co-operate with him, but after a week he gave in and sent a message to Calcutta, begging Richard to intercede and make it quite clear that Arthur should have unrestricted access to whatever resources he needed to prepare the expedition. It would take at least three weeks for a reply and Arthur had to resign himself to yet more delay.

  In the meantime, he did his best to repair relations with the Governor and his staff by hosting a dinner aboard his ship for the senior officers of his command, those of the garrison at Trincomalee and Admiral Rainier and the captains of the squadron assigned to support the expedition. The warships were anchored slightly further offshore where they would be free to put to sea in the event that any French vessels appeared on the horizon. Arthur was aware that there was a strong animosity between the Governor and the admiral, but he braced himself to doing his best to repair relations all round. It frequently surprised Arthur how often personal differences of opinion were permitted to stand in the way of the vital interests of the state, as if such men felt that they were more important than the nation they professed to serve.

  On the morning of the appointed date, Arthur’s mood was not improved by the receipt of a private message from Richard, which had crossed the letter he had sent to Calcutta. Once he had decoded the message Arthur’s brow creased into a frown. There was a possibility that the Java expedition would once again have to be cancelled. The situation in the Mediterranean was such that the expeditionary force might be enlarged and redeployed to Egypt instead. Arthur was told to make the force ready to sail either to the east, towards Java, or west, towards the Red Sea. The final decision would be communicated to him as soon as possible.

  The message made Arthur uneasy. The last news he had had of the situation in Egypt was that the French still had a considerable army there. If Arthur and his men were sent to Egypt they would be outnumbered and would have to face a well-trained and well-armed enemy. Arthur did not doubt that his men were a match for any French soldiers that lived, and he was confident enough in his abilities to confront them, but a campaign in Egypt was a more uncertain prospect than the capture of Java, and it would have to be tackled with great care. He could not help but be scornful of the politicians back in London who could redirect thousands of men from one theatre of war to another on a whim.

  The air in the great cabin of the East India Company ship Suffolk was hot and humid, despite the attempt to create a through draught by using windscoops over the skylights and opening all the stern windows. The officers of the army and Navy were in their best uniforms and the Company officials in their best coats, and everyone attempted to endure the heat with stolid indifference. A long table had been laid with spotless cloths and gleaming silverware and cut glasses, and the odours of the cooking wafted through from the captain’s galley.

  ‘What’s that, Wellesley?’ Admiral Rainier sniffed.

  ‘A saddle of mutton, sir. My steward, Vingetty, cooks it in a rich sauce and serves it with a salad. Accompanied by a Madeira.’

  ‘Salad?’ Rainier frowned. ‘I don’t know about a salad. Mutton deserves something more wholesome, like boiled vegetables.’

  Arthur stopped himself from wincing at the idea. He nodded tactfully. ‘Of course, sir, but Vingetty makes a better salad than he boils a vegetable, so there we are.’

  ‘Hmmm. Well, needs must.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Now would you care to take your seat?’

  As the guests took their places Arthur made sure that the Governor was seated at the head of the table with Rainier on one side while Arthur sat opposite. Frederick North was a stout, sour-faced man with a pale complexion despite the years he had served in Ceylon. Once everyone was seated he picked up a soup spoon and rapped the table until the other diners fell silent.

  ‘Grace . . .’ North clasped his hands and shut his eyes and some of the others followed suit. Rainier caught Arthur’s eye and looked to the heavens with an exasperated expression, but said not a word as North began.

  ‘Divine Lord, who watches over us all, bless us here today that we might serve our King and country well, and prosper by the fruits of our own efforts. Amen.’

  ‘Amen,’ echoed round the table, as North picked up his napkin and tucked it into his neck cloth.

  ‘An interesting grace,’ said Rainier. ‘One of your own?’

  ‘Yes. And suitable to the occasion, given that you and Colonel Wellesley will soon be sailing off to war.’

  ‘If ever the order comes,’ Rainier grumbled. ‘Been telling ’em for years that we have to take Java.’

  ‘I know,’ North replied tartly. ‘As you keep telling me. And as I keep telling you, we should be concentrating our efforts on Mauritius. As your superior, I would expect you to carry out my orders.’

  Admiral Rainier shrugged his shoulders wearily and Arthur realised that this had long been a bone of contention between the two men. Rainier replied in a bored tone,‘You are the senior civil authority with power over all forces stationed
here, but the moment the squadron leaves these waters control of the vessels reverts to me. I will only carry out operations against Mauritius under Admiralty orders.’

  ‘Which I am certain are on the way. Assuming my powers of persuasion have made their lordships see reason.’

  ‘We shall have to wait and see, won’t we?’ Rainier smiled, then looked across the table at Arthur. ‘What’s the first course?’

  ‘Turtle soup.’

  ‘Fish, or as near as.’ Rainier wrinkled his nose.

  ‘I’d have thought a sailor would be fond of fish, sir.’

  ‘And I’d have thought a soldier would be fond of bloody boiled vegetables. Especially a man from Ireland. That is where your family is from, ain’t it?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Once again Arthur felt the implied slight, and wondered if the family would ever shake off its history.

  ‘That’s right,’ North added. ‘And I am sure that your brother must be delighted with the peerage conferred on him following the victory in Mysore. But I forgot, the news reached here only yesterday. He will not know yet.’

  ‘A peerage, sir?’ Arthur felt his breast lift with pride for his brother, and at the same time there was a tinge of jealousy that no reward had come his way.

  ‘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 Trinc
omalee, 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 swallowed. ‘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.’

 

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