Zemindar

by Valerie Fitzgerald

  ‘Oh, Oliver, where the devil are you?’ I thought inelegantly to myself for the fiftieth time that night. ‘Where the devil are you?’

  I kept the tea warm, but Charles did not come in until some hours later. He had spent the night on duty in Dr Fayrer’s garden, up near the Baillie Guard. The house was full of women and children, in spite of its exposed position, and a battery had been thrown up in the garden while the roof was used by riflemen. Charles was filthy, his face black with smoke and sweat, his eyes bloodshot, and his clothes smelt of gunpowder.

  ‘Bad news!’ he said as he entered and stood his rifle in a corner. ‘Sir Henry’s been wounded.’

  Behind him Ishmial, who had constituted himself Charles’s orderly and seldom left his side, leaned dispiritedly on his musket.

  ‘Sir Henry! Oh, Charles, surely not?’

  Emily stopped washing Pearl in the enamel basin and looked up aghast.

  ‘A shell got him, while he was resting in his upstairs room in the Resident’s House. He was going to move out of it this morning, they say, because it was too exposed to fire, but the shell came in through the window and burst in the room.’

  ‘But he’ll be all right; he’ll live, won’t he, Charles?’ asked Emily.

  Charles shook his head. ‘The doctors can’t do anything for him. No hope. They have moved him across to Fayrer’s, but the pandies seem to have guessed what has happened and have turned all their fire on the very verandah he is lying on. Somebody here is informing them, blast ’em! Look, I must get back as soon as possible. Just wanted to see you were all right. Give me a bite of something to take away, if you have it.’

  ‘But, Charles, you’ve been up all night!’ expostulated Emily.

  ‘So has everyone else,’ returned her husband shortly. Emily compressed her lips and turned her attention to Pearl, while I reheated the tired tea and watched the two men gulp it, still standing.

  That evening, when Charles at last returned to snatch some sleep, he was drained of all colour, and when we enquired about Sir Henry, he only shook his head and muttered, ‘Dreadful! Dreadful!’ He lay down fully clothed on Emily’s bed and turned his face to the wall, but I do not think he slept.

  For two days Sir Henry lived on in an agony hardly ameliorated by the doctors’ chloroform, and his awful screams, clearly heard by all the men of Fayrer’s post, unnerved them far more than did the guns of the mutineers. It was Toddy who brought us the intelligence of his death, early on the morning of the 4th of July, the fourth day of the siege.

  ‘Proper blessin’ ’e’s gone,’ he announced solemnly. ‘Yelled like a stuck pig for two days. ’Orrid to ’ear ’im, it was—proper ’orrid.’ He meant no disrespect.

  In moments of crisis, when many people are confronted with a single emotional reality, atmosphere becomes almost tangible. So it was with us that day, as we were overtaken by a collective anxiety that one could almost grasp. We had lost our leader. No doubt many of the garrison knew Sir Henry well enough to feel a personal grief, a private sense of loss, but for most of us his thin stooped figure had come to mean an embodiment of decision and of wisdom. Who could take his place? The fear we had begun to accustom ourselves to surged up into something like panic. All day the guns spat viciously, the bullets whined and buildings crumbled under the fire; but, for all the noise of war, the enclosure was quiet with a heavy, inward quiet as men reckoned their chances, eyes meeting eyes in silent question, and women sat in the smothering darkness of their quarters, trying to come to terms with terror.

  ‘A disaster, Miss Laura! I have no hesitation in expressing myself so strongly. A disaster! The worst that could befall us!’

  Mr Roberts had called in on us soon after hearing the news. He carried a rifle, as did every other man but, unlike the other men, he managed to look neat and almost as clean as usual. Kate, too, for the first time in three days, was sharing the gloom and heat of our kitchen, and the four of us sat round the table talking.

  ‘What is to happen to us now I cannot think,’ went on Mr Roberts. ‘We may have days to wait before the relief arrives, and who is there among us who can take Sir Henry’s place?’

  ‘I believe Sir Henry himself had appointed Major Banks his successor, circumventing old Buggins, which I am sure old Buggins will not like,’ said Kate.

  ‘Ah! A successor is one thing, but Banks is not of the same calibre.’

  ‘No, but a good soldier and a good administrator. And then there is Jack Inglis. He’ll do too, Mr Roberts, he’ll do. They won’t replace Sir Henry, certainly, but one man’s death should not strip us of all hope, surely?’

  ‘What is the old saw about the hour producing the man?’ I asked.

  ‘We must hope so, Miss Laura. We must hope so. But when you reckon the odds against us … well, this is truly a blow!’ He mopped his forehead and then took off his spectacles and polished them. I had never seen him without them before and he looked bare and somehow lost as he screwed up his eyes to see what he was doing.

  ‘Why … why …’ He shook his head in unbelief and gestured with his spectacles. ‘Do you know that it is reckoned that the insurgents have something like forty thousand men to draw on? Forty thousand men well armed and well trained!’

  ‘Forty thousand!’ gasped Emily. ‘But that’s a terrible number. We can’t have anything like that on our side, can we?’

  ‘No, Mrs Flood, nothing like that. We have perhaps fourteen hundred dependable men within this stockade; that is without the Sikhs, of course, of whose loyalty much doubt is felt and not only by myself.’ Having made his point, Mr Roberts replaced his spectacles on his nose with an air of accomplishment.

  ‘Heavens! Then …’

  ‘Yes, my dear! We are in a very bad situation. Very bad. And now Sir Henry’s death has compounded it indeed.’ He had no idea of the effect his words were having on Emily, whose eyes had filled with frightened tears as she listened to him.

  ‘And now this news from Cawnpore …’ our visitor continued.

  ‘Cawnpore? What news is there from Cawnpore?’ Kate asked suspiciously.

  ‘You mean you have not heard?’

  ‘Only what everyone else has heard—that Wheeler has been forced to treat with the Nana Sahib.’

  ‘Ah, but there is more, I’m afraid. Mind you, it’s not official yet, but it is being said that Mr Gubbins has received information that there has been some further trouble in Cawnpore. Treachery on the part of the Nana, most probably, and that there are no survivors of the garrison. But, as I say, I have not heard this from any official source, and one must bear in mind the potency of rumour in a situation like the present one.’

  ‘No survivors? It can’t be, Mr Roberts. Surely it cannot be?’

  ‘So it is said, Miss Laura. Had you any friends in Cawnpore?’

  ‘No, that is, there is a possibility that Mr Erskine was there.’

  ‘Mr Erskine? But why should he be in Cawnpore, of all places? I can understand that if life in Hassanganj proved untenable he might want to reach Lucknow, but Cawnpore, after all, is quite out of his way.’

  ‘I hope you are right, but Toddy-Bob thinks he had some business to attend to there, and … and I know he had friends there about whom he was anxious.’

  ‘Well, that is unfortunate. If, of course, there is anything to this rumour, and there very well may not be. We must remember that.’

  Kate caught my eye across the table and smiled to reassure me, then turned her attention to Mr Roberts.

  ‘This is not the time, Mr Roberts, as I thought you would have had the good sense to realize, to repeat rumours! And that is …’ But she was interrupted by Emily, who, though she had followed the conversation, was obviously not thinking of Cawnpore.

  ‘But Kate, is it true—are there really so many pandies against us? Because if there are, then we have no hope, have we? How can we possibly keep them off? Oh, Laura, we are all going to be killed, aren’t we?’ Emily began to weep.

  ‘Now do you see what you
have done, Mr Roberts? You’ve scared the poor little creature out of her wits. You really have no business to go around spreading alarm in this fashion. Surely we all have enough to contend with?’ Kate spoke wrathfully, while I comforted Emily. Mr Roberts, honestly surprised at being taken so seriously, stood up in some confusion.

  ‘My dear Mrs Flood, forgive me. I had no idea that you could still be in ignorance of the true position. I was just making plain the facts as I see them, and I certainly had no wish to add to your …’

  ‘Yes, yes, Mr Roberts, but I think we have had enough hard facts for one morning. I am sure you are needed somewhere else.’ And without further ceremony, Kate opened the door and ushered him out, still apologizing.

  ‘Hush now, Emily! He’s a fussy little man and can’t see the wood for the trees. Don’t cry, child. There is absolutely no way of knowing how many men are on the other side of the wall; no responsible man would even hazard a guess, so pay no attention to Mr Roberts.’

  Kate sat down again. ‘Sure, and don’t I know ’em. They’re all alike, these know-all, fussbody civilians, and never a one of ’em has laid eyes on any angry man. Figures! Statistics! Information! They never reckon on such a thing as fighting spirit! And what’s more, there is one fact that our Mr Roberts is doing his best not to face, and that is that he is plain scared himself!’ She sniffed her disapproval. ‘So cheer up now, Emmie. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, believe me. We’ll manage without Sir Henry if we have to, and without Mr Roberts’s forty thousand men too. Irresponsible creature that he is!’ She sniffed again.

  ‘I hope there is really no truth in the other matter he mentioned,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, couldn’t be, woman dear. Just Mr Roberts again; though, mind you, old Buggins is almost as much of an alarmist himself. The Nana Sahib would never descend to treachery. Remember he was a friend of ours. To fight us is one thing. But treachery? Never!’

  ‘What were you saying about Oliver? Is he really in Cawnpore?’ Emily asked through her handkerchief as she wiped her nose.

  ‘Toddy-Bob said he might have gone there, but just for a few days. On some business he had to attend to in regard to Hassanganj, I suppose,’ I replied, deliberately vague.

  ‘Then he’d have been with General Wheeler, Laura?’

  ‘Not he! You should know him better than that, Em. Can you see him joining the military? In anything?’

  ‘Well, I do hope not, because if there has been trouble in Cawnpore, then he might be involved in it.’

  ‘Never! He is undoubtedly safe in Hassanganj and happily reconciled to remaining there until all this is finished. He must know that he could not get through the city to reach us, and so remaining in Hassanganj would be the commonsense thing to do. He’ll turn up in due course, when all the unpleasantness is over.’

  ‘Oh, I do hope so! And I wish he was here now, even though I know I sound selfish. I really do; I’d feel so much safer if he were here.’

  My tone to Emily had been robust and reassuring, but my mind was far from quiet on Oliver’s account. What if, despite his avowed opinions and probable desires, he had somehow become involved in the trouble at Cawnpore? And what if there truly had been treachery on the part of the Nana Sahib? What if …?

  But such conjecture was fruitless, and I resolved not to harbour any hypothetical anxiety to add its weight to my actual burdens.

  That evening, Sir Henry Lawrence was buried in the churchyard on the river side of the enclosure, sewn up in a grey blanket and in a common grave with eleven other men who had died during the day. Not even for him was there room for a separate grave, or time or labour to dig one. The barrage continued without interruption during the brief service. No bugle sounded as they laid Sir Henry to rest so hurriedly, no solemn roll of drums, no Last Post, no fusillade of honour. Only the rifles and round shot and shell blast of the men whom he once had commanded—on both sides of the barricade.

  CHAPTER 7

  George Barry, thinking they would prefer it, had arranged for all three Hassanganj volunteers, Charles, Toddy-Bob and Ishmial, to serve together at Fayrer’s battery, but the day after the death of Sir Henry Lawrence Toddy-Bob dropped in to tell us that he had ‘fixed himself up’ at Gubbins’s battery instead and, since he would have to sleep there, we would be seeing rather less of him. I was careful not to enquire how Toddy had managed to bring about this transfer; his transactions, of whatever nature, were generally better left severely to him; but I did ask why he had wanted it.

  ‘I thought you had no use for Mr Gubbins, Tod?’ I said. ‘Why the sudden desire to fight at his battery?’

  ‘Well, and that’s true enough, Miss Laura; ’e’s not a character as I can admire personal like, not knowing the amount of rumours and such like as is going about regardin’ him, ’specially now. You’ve ’eard that ’e’s kickin’ up a ruckus about Sir ’Enry appointing Major Banks to take over from ’im?’ I nodded. ‘And, Miss Laura, did you know that it was ’e who nagged Sir ’Enry into going out to Chinhat? Told ’im it were ’is duty to make an example of the pandies as were comin’ from Cawnpore, ’e did. Sir ’Enry, they say, didn’t like the idea at all, not knowin’ just ’ow many of them there would be, like, but ’e went out because old Gubbins pushed ’im to it. And look what ’appened then!’

  ‘That’s the merest gossip, Tod,’ I said sternly. ‘We have no business to believe such things. It won’t do any good to rake it up now that it’s finished.’

  ‘Oh, but it ain’t just gossip, Miss Laura! I knows a chap as was at the Residency steps when Sir ’Enry galloped in after the battle, and ’is first words were—and this is true, so ’elp me, Miss Laura—’is first words were: “Well, Gubbins has had his way and I ’opes ’e ’as ’ad enough of it!” Them’s ’is words exact!’

  ‘Then why ever are you so anxious to protect his house?’

  ‘Simple, Miss Laura. Because of what’s in it!’

  ‘Oh, Toddy!’ I said more in sorrow than in anger, while Emily giggled.

  ‘Well now, Miss Laura, you knows ’as ’ow I wouldn’t do anythin’ dishonest, like. But it’s come to my notice that a man can come by a fair amount of stuff at that battery, and all quite legitimate. Buggins hands out cigars and sugar and even beer, so they tell me, and I got to thinkin’ there was no use passin’ by such an opportunity. Never knows when we might need a little somethin’ extra, for the nipper perhaps or if one of us got took sick, so it’s best that I should be there. That’s all.’

  ‘Well, it’s a good safe place, I gather, and Mr Gubbins was in a position to provision it adequately, so I hope you will be happy there. But don’t forget us, Tod. We’ll miss not having you here.’

  ‘Gawd love you, no, miss. I shan’t forget you. Not till the Guv’nor gets in leastways, and after that, well, I’ll be free to mind me own business. Not that it’s any ’ardship keepin’ an eye on you, mind, but a body gets to feel a bit tied all the same.’

  ‘You feel tied to—me?’

  ‘Yes, miss, only natural as I would.’

  ‘But how … why …?’

  ‘Because the Guv’nor says ’as ’ow you was to be the special care of me and Ishmial. ’Spect he figured as ’ow Mr Charles would do right by Miss Emily, but you had no one, like,’ he finished lamely.

  ‘Well, that was very good of Mr Erskine, Toddy, and I appreciate his thoughtfulness, but please believe yourself as free as air. I am only too happy to exonerate you from all responsibility for my welfare.’

  ‘That’s as may be, miss, but the Guv’nor ’asn’t said so, and I’d a deal sooner wait for the word from ’im.’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Oh, no trouble, miss! Leastways, I’d sooner put up with you than the trouble the Guv’nor would make for me if ’e were to find as ’ow I’d neglected me duty. So if you don’t mind …?’

  ‘Well, so long as you want it your way. At least we understand each other, and I’ll try not to be too much of a burden.’

  ‘Thank
you, miss.’ And Toddy touched his cap and swayed off with his rolling gait, clutching his bedding roll to his bosom.

  ‘Well, that’s one mouth less to feed,’ I said as he disappeared. ‘I hope Mr Gubbins’s largesse will come up to his expectations.’

  ‘And how truly considerate of Oliver Erskine to give you two nursemaids!’ remarked Emily acidly. ‘Perhaps if he had known just how little comfort my husband would be to me, he might have let me have a share in one of them at least.’

  ‘Oh, Emily, it’s no good adopting that attitude, surely? Charles can’t be here more than he is, and that’s all there is to it. You must face up to it. We are as protected as anyone can be in this building and he knows it; you can’t expect him to keep running in to see how you are doing every hour or so.’

  ‘I have seen him for precisely forty-five minutes in the last twenty-four hours, Laura. I think he owes me more time than that.’

  ‘And, Emily,’ broke in Kate quietly, ‘I think you owe him more understanding … and indeed more sympathy. Use your imagination, girl! Have you any idea of what it is like trying to snatch some sleep, fully clothed, with a gun firing no more than a few feet from you every few minutes?’

  ‘Then why doesn’t he come and sleep here like a decent Christian?’

  ‘Oh, you make me lose all patience, Emily! Do you think he wouldn’t if he could?’