The War Chest

by Porter Hill

  The outburst surprised Horne. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I would never laugh at you, sir.’

  What had Watson meant by ‘jeopardising his position’ and ‘risk the security of his retirement’? Horne’s curiosity was piqued.

  Watson had divulged too much. He knew it, but he still wanted Horne to be, if not grateful, then at least a little more surprised by his sudden arrival.

  He pressed, ‘What would you have done, Horne, had I not appeared?’

  The question was naïve and surprised Horne. ‘Returned to Bombay Castle, sir. Reported to you and submitted my report to Governor Spencer—as it was Spencer who issued my orders.’

  Watson’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. ‘No, no, Horne. I doubt if Spencer will want a written report on this mission when you return to Bombay Castle. Not with the trouble he’s taken to keep the assignment so secret. I suspect he’ll follow the pattern the Governors required after your victory at Madras—sealed lips.’

  Horne reminded Watson, ‘Sir, we claimed no prisoners-of-war at Madras.’ He gestured to the three ships in the cove, the Huma, the Tigre, and the recently seized Calliope. ‘But since leaving Madagascar, sir, we’ve captured fifty-two men. Fifty-three including Captain Le Clerc.’

  ‘Le Clerc?’ Watson was pleased to change the subject from Governor Spencer. Not knowing what Spencer had said on learning that he had gone to help Horne in the search for the war chest, Watson feared the consequences.

  He asked, ‘What’s Le Clerc like, Horne?’

  ‘Arrogant. Angry that he’s been posted out here to India. Humiliated at being captured by men he considers to be pirates.’

  ‘He has no idea you’re connected to the Company?’

  ‘None, sir. I should imagine he’d prefer being taken prisoner by Admiral Pocock and the Royal Navy.’

  Watson’s blue eyes twinkled. ‘Am I correct, Horne, in believing you don’t approve of the man?’

  Horne grimaced. ‘Captain Le Clerc abandoned his crew and an officer aboard the Tigre, sir. He left them to defend themselves miserably in a storm while he sailed off safely aboard the Calliope.’

  ‘Abandoned an officer, Horne?’ Watson was surprised. ‘You didn’t tell me you’d captured an officer apart from Le Clerc. Where is he?’

  There were many facts Horne had not reported to Watson in the few hours since his arrival. He had chosen to proceed with the work of burying the dead to prevent the bodies from decaying quickly in the heat. He had trusted there would be ample time for a report and discussion.

  He answered, ‘The young officer’s name was Gallet, sir. He took his own life. Shortly after we seized the Calliope.’

  ‘I see.’ Watson wiped his jowls. ‘So tell me what you’ve got out of Le Clerc? Has he talked yet about that bloody war chest?’

  ‘Captain Le Clerc refuses to admit that he came to Oporto to pass on the war chest to another French ship. Yet he does not deny the pattern I suggested to him, the way in which I suspect the cargo’s been brought from France, passed from ship to ship.’

  Watson had already heard Horne’s theory about how the French treasure had been passed like a handkerchief or coin at a children’s party. He remained more interested in the chest itself.

  ‘But you have seen the war chest, Horne?’ he asked anxiously. ‘You know it’s here? On Le Clerc’s brig you captured?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen it, sir. But as I explained earlier, I still haven’t examined it.’

  ‘So what are we waiting for?’ Watson settled the cocked hat on his large head. ‘Let’s go out to the Calliope and have a look.’

  Horne was hesitant. ‘Sir, there’s one question I would like to put to you.’

  ‘Speak, Horne.’ Watson was anxious to repair to the French brig.

  ‘What will happen to the Huma, sir?’

  Watson stared dumbly at him.

  ‘The Huma,’ repeated Horne. ‘The captured frigate I’ve been sailing.’

  Watson’s eyes bulged. ‘I know what the Huma is. But do you mean to stand there asking me about a bloody pirate ship when all our futures are at stake?’

  This was Watson’s second allusion to the uncertainty of their future, Horne noted. What had occurred at Bombay Castle to make the old walrus so uneasy?

  Watson rasped, ‘How do I know what’s going to happen in the future when damned Spencer hasn’t even fully informed me about this mission?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Horne could not bring himself to apologise for inquiring about the future of the pirate ship. Securing his men’s future was more valuable, he felt, than gold in a French war chest. The Huma would be a fine vessel for his Marines. A true buccaneer ship.

  Watson capitulated slightly; patting Horne’s shoulder, he assured him, ‘Oh, have heart, Horne. Have heart. Given the chance, I’ll put a word in Spencer’s ear to allow you to keep the Huma—that is, if the old crow is still talking to me when we sail into Bombay.’

  A third reference to trouble between the two men. Horne, however, still refrained from pressing for details.

  Instead, he suggested, ‘The Company could very well rule the Huma as a prize for the Maritime Service, sir. A young merchant officer aboard the Unity captured the frigate along with a pattimar.’

  Watson wagged his head. ‘Yes, yes. Spencer told me about the green Company officer. He also told me how you gave assistance beyond the call of duty.’

  Blustering, he exclaimed, ‘Dash it, Horne. Let’s stop babbling here in this heat. Let’s get out to the Calliope and see what’s in that bloody chest. That’s the only way we’ll know if any of us has a future.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Horne centred his hat on his forehead.

  Watson preceded Horne down the incline, sword clanking against his leg. He waved at the five waiting Marines as he rattled past them, calling, ‘Come on, lads, let’s see if you’ve done your job, eh?’

  The Commander-in-Chief continued down the slope to the open boat bobbing in the surf.

  Horne followed Watson, his eyes on the three captured vessels in the cove, the seamen busily working on repairs.

  Moving his gaze to the flagship, Ferocious, he thought again of Watson’s nervous allusions to Governor Spencer. The old walrus was definitely troubled by something.

  * * *

  Babcock nodded to Horne, signalling that he would soon follow him and Watson to the waiting boat. But, first, he and the other Marines wanted to pay their own respects to their dead comrade.

  Stepping in front of the grave, Babcock rested his weight on one foot. ‘You didn’t talk much, you ugly Turk, but I’m going to miss you anyway.’

  Appraising the knotted rope he had taken from Mustafa’s corpse on the Tigre, he continued, ‘I don’t know where you go from here, Ugly. But wherever it is …’

  He tossed the garrotte onto the grave. ‘Here, you might be needing this.’

  Jingee and Kiro remained standing side by side as Babcock slouched past them down the hill.

  After remembering a Hindu prayer for a deceased warrior, Jingee’s mind moved from Mustafa to the men he had killed on Oporto. Horne had praised him for accomplishing the land manoeuvre but had cautioned him about becoming too quick to kill, too eager to use his knife when there might be less deadly ways to silence the enemy.

  Had he killed too quickly? Could he have spared the Frenchmen’s lives instead of slitting their throats? Jingee’s pride suffered from Horne’s criticism, but he stood stoically by Mustafa’s grave and questioned his past actions. He was ready to mend his ways. The main concern in his life was always to please the Captain sahib.

  Beside Jingee, Kiro mused over how little Mustafa had spoken to other men. But, then, neither did he himself ever have much to say.

  Had Mustafa been trying, too, to achieve some goal he had long ago set for himself? If so, had he achieved it? Kiro thought about the goal of becoming a skilled warrior he had long ago set for himself in Japan. He added a prayer for himself as well as Mustafa. Before Kiro turned away from the grave, he added a thir
d word for Adam Horne, for giving men a chance to live out their dreams.

  Jud threw back his head, eyes open, looking at the clouds streaking across the late morning sky. Up there, hidden somewhere in that blue glass bowl, were his wife, his son and, now, Mustafa.

  Jud smiled. When would he also go to live in the sky? Jud believed that death was immortality.

  Groot set the blue cap on his sun-bleached hair after racking his brain for a prayer for Mustafa. Hurrying down the rocky slope to catch up with Babcock, he called, ‘Wait, Babcock. I want to apologise.’

  Babcock did not slow down. ‘Apologise for what?’

  Groot ran. ‘For laughing at you. For calling you a land lubber yesterday.’

  ‘Nothing a cheesehead says could ever bother me, Groot.’

  ‘But I want to congratulate you, Babcock. You had a good idea in tricking the enemy onto the reef. Your idea saved us.’

  ‘You were at the wheel,’ Babcock reminded him.

  ‘But it was your idea. It was a very good idea.’

  Babcock slowed down; he looked at the promontory where the remains of the French frigate were lapped by the Indian Ocean. ‘My idea doesn’t seem so good when you think about how many men it killed.’

  Groot looked at Babcock. ‘Are you getting soft?’

  Babcock did not answer the question. Instead, he pulled his big ear, asking, ‘Do you remember how many of us prisoners Horne first took from Bombay Castle to turn into Marines?’

  Groot considered. ‘Ten. Twelve.’

  ‘Sixteen. And how many men left Bull Island after training?’

  Groot thought. ‘Seven.’

  Babcock nodded. ‘Right. But how many are left now?’

  Lowering his eyes to the ground, Groot said, ‘With Mustafa gone there are only … five of us.’

  ‘Which one of us is going to be next?’ Babcock studied Groot. ‘Is it going to be you, cheesehead?’

  Turning, Babcock continued down the hill to join Horne and Commodore Watson.

  Groot did not know if the big American colonial was joking with him or not. He suspected Babcock had been serious, that he was not as carefree as he often pretended.

  Groot ran down the hill after him, calling, ‘What are you going to do with your monkey, Babcock?’

  ‘You ask too many questions, Groot.’ Babcock waved his hand and kept walking down to the waiting boat.

  * * *

  Aboard the Calliope, Horne stood with Commodore Watson and four Marines in the captain’s cabin as Jingee hurried in from the companionway, carrying a mallet, a chisel and an iron bar.

  Horne took the tools and passed them to the Marine standing next to him, Jud.

  Horne, Watson, and the Marines crowded around as Jud knelt in front of the iron-banded chest. They watched anxiously as the big African began hitting the mallet against the chisel’s wooden butt.

  The padlock broke with a snap.

  Horne handed Jud the iron bar.

  The muscles rose under Jud’s ebony-skinned arm as he prised, finally breaking the iron band with his force on the bar.

  Rising, he stood back to allow Horne to open the chest’s lid.

  Horne deferred to Commodore Watson.

  Dabbing the handkerchief at his forehead, Watson stepped in front of the bow-topped trunk. Taking a deep breath, he glanced apprehensively at Horne. Then, shaking his head, he hesitated and stood back from the trunk. ‘No, Horne. It’s your victory. You open the lid.’

  ‘Victory, sir?’ Horne appraised the large chest. ‘If there’s no gold inside, sir, nobody can claim a victory.’

  ‘Ah! But if there is gold inside, Horne, we’ll be welcomed back at Bombay Castle with open arms.’ Watson looked at the other five Marines. ‘Who knows? Governor Spencer might be so pleased with your success that he will assign the Huma to Horne. She’ll be your ship.’

  Horne and the men exchanged hopeful glances.

  Watson added, ‘And I’ll get my pension.’

  Displeased with himself for mentioning his own worries, he scowled, rasping, ‘But here you go jabbering again, Horne. Dash it. Open the lid let’s see what’s inside.’

  Watson and the five Marines pushed around Horne. The hinges creaked as Horne lifted the lid and, then, everybody began to laugh. There was more gold than any of them had ever seen.

  END

  Adam Horne and the Bombay Marines Adventures

  continue in

  CHINA FLYER

  GLOSSARY

  Bilboes—shipboard shackles devised in the Spanish foundries of Bilbao

  Brahmin—the highest Hindu caste

  Compagnie des Indes Orientales—The French East India Company

  Dhoolie—a covered litter

  Dhoti—loincloth

  Dongi—small canoe made from plantain leaves

  Dubash—literally ‘two languages’, hence an interpreter or secretary

  Dungri—blue Indian cotton cloth

  Howdah—saddle or house on back of elephant

  Feringhi—foreigner

  Karma—fate or destiny, a person’s activities in many reincarnations. Hinduism. Buddhism

  Kshatriya—the second highest and Hindu warrior caste

  Moong dal—a split pea, frequently used in a savoury pancake batter

  Pankration—ancient manner of Greek combat, forerunner of Japanese Karate

  Panchama—literally, ‘the fifth’, people outside the four Indian castes

  Punkah—overhead fan operated by rope

  Sari—female garb, long cloth

  Sepoy—Indian troop trained by European standards

  Sudra—people below the Hindu high castes

  Topiwallah—literally, men with hats; hence, foreigners

  Vaisya—the third Hindu caste, the powerful merchant class

  By the Same Author

  THE BOMBAY MARINES

  Copyright

  First published in Great Britain in 1987

  by Souvenir Press, 43 Great Russell Street, London WC1B 3PD

  This ebook edition first published in 2013

  All rights reserved © Souvenir Press Ltd

  The right of Porter Hill to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly

  ISBN 9780285642126

  The Adam Horne trilogy

  If you have enjoyed this Adam Horne adventure the other titles in this trilogy are available.

  The Bombay Marines

  In this, the first part of the Adam Horne trilogy, it is 1761 and Pondicherry, the last stronghold of the French in India, has fallen to the British. Captain Horne is given a secret mission: to capture the defeated French commander, Thomas Lally, from the prison of Fort St. George on Madras – if he fails his unit will be disbanded.

  When most of the Bombay Marines are deployed on the east coast of India Horne finds his unit is left undermanned and he is left with only one choice: to take his pick of the motley collection of thieves, rapists and murderers held in the prisons of Bombay Castle and train them for what will be the most closely guarded campaign of the Seven Years’ War.

  From the colourful waterfront of Bombay to the sadistic penal colony of Bull Island and the cataclysmic denouement within the walls of Fort St. George Adam Horne, and his ex-convicts, must be prepared for the exotic dangers of India.

  War Chest

  In this second part of the Adam Horne trilogy, following The Bombay Marines, the dare-devil Captain Horne is re-united with his motl
ey but loyal band of ex-convict fighters.

  Horne sails to Madagascar on a mission of such danger and daring that no one in London, where the plan has been evolved, believes that it can succeed. With the war against the French at stalemate, the British Chiefs of Staff are looking for an unofficial means to reactivate the conflict in India and to drive the French from the subcontinent forever. Who better to use than a band of expendable cut-throats, the East India Company’s Bombay Marines?