Jack Windrush Collection

Chapter 15

Jack nodded. "I"m glad to see you on board."

The woman wore the same short white jacket she had worn in Rangoon but with a green longyi tight around her hips and a bright orchid placed in her hair. "Commander Marshall asks that you join us in his cabin," she repeated.

This woman is going to give nothing away.

This woman is going to give nothing away."Then I shall join you both with pleasure,." Jack"s bow contained more respect than mockery.

"This way." She turned without another word and walked away. Jack glanced briefly at the smooth slide of her hips within the longyi and looked away again.

I have no time or inclination for distractions.

I have no time or inclination for distractions."We are going ashore tomorrow," Marshall began the conversation even before Jack had sat at the small table which was bolted to the deck, "me, you, Myat Lay Phyu," he nodded to the woman, "and as many men as you think will be best for an escort."

Myat Lay Phyu – that is an enchanting name. It suits her.

Myat Lay Phyu – that is an enchanting name. It suits her."Might I ask where we are going, sir? I take it we are hunting for Bo Ailgaliutlo and his dacoits?" Jack kept his voice level and polite. "If I knew it would help me judge how many men to bring."

Marshall held his eyes for a long thirty seconds before he replied. "We are hunting for the renegade, Bo Ailgaliutlo, Windrush. Myat Lay Phyu is my translator."

"I wondered why she was on the ship." Jack held out his hand. "How do you do, Myat Lay Phyu?" He stumbled over the syllables of her name.

Her touch was light and firm. "Very well, thank you Ensign Windrush. How do you do?" Her face was impassive. "Myat will do if you cannot manage the rest of my name."

"You speak English very well," Jack complimented her.

"So do you," Myat replied. She withdrew her hand and folded it beside its sister in front of her. Even in her short white jacket and longyi, she didn"t look as out of place as he felt in that cabin.

"I am English," Jack said.

"I know." Myat"s expression didn"t alter.

Myat is the only woman I"ve ever wanted to like me, and she most obviously does not. She treats me as if I was a buffoon.

Myat is the only woman I"ve ever wanted to like me, and she most obviously does not. She treats me as if I was a buffoon."Now the pleasantries are complete; I will ask you both to pay attention." Marshall shuffled some papers on his immaculate desk. "We will be landing shortly after dawn. By then the locals will have time to recover from their surprise at seeing us here and will have called in the head man, whatever his name is." He glanced at Myat.

"His name is Bo Loung," she said and relapsed into silence.

"Bo Loung," Marshall repeated.

"How long will we be ashore for?" Jack tried to calculate rations and water.

"I do not know," Marshall said. "I will talk to this Bo Loung fellow through Myat and ask about the renegade Bo Ailgaliutlo." There was no expression on his face. "That is my duty. I will also try to persuade Bo Loung to back the British against the King of Ava. That is my choice. Either he will join us, or we will send an expedition to flatten his little town. That is the reality." For a second, Jack thought he saw a glimmer of humour in Marshall"s ice-chip eyes.

"I see we use subtlety in our diplomacy." Jack wished he hadn"t spoken as soon as Marshall fixed him with a stare like frozen granite.

"Force is the only thing these people understand," he said quickly. "They are child-like barbarians and like all children, must be taught right from wrong."

"Yes, sir." Jack wondered if Myat appreciated Marshall calling her people child-like barbarians. How had she learned English? Who was she? "They certainly build some beautiful temples, sir."

How had she learned English? Who was she?Marshall grunted. "You are to ensure I have peace to talk with this Bo Loung fellow. Keep away his advisers and whatnots – these people always have a horde of followers and hangers-on who get in the way. If anybody tries to interfere, then stop them, whatever it takes. Any questions?"

"No, sir." Jack wondered if he was meant to jump to attention or merely salute. Instead, he nodded.

"Good; take as many men as you think you may need." Marshall stood up. "That"s all. Dismiss."

"Where are we, sir?" Jack was determined not to act like a young schoolboy.

"We are at Pegu. Dismiss." Marshall was curt.

Pegu. I"ll check that on the map.

"Easy all," Marshall ordered. The seamen lifted their oars, so the longboat eased onto the river bank.

"They"re waiting for us," Wells said. He nodded to the group of men who stood on the river bank. There were a dozen warriors in short jackets and dark longyis, with spears in hand and dhas at their waists. In their midst stood a man wearing a flowing, knee-length longyi with a bright yellow cowl around his neck. His spiked hat had fine chain mail washing down the back of his neck.

longyislongyiThe stout man in yellow is Bo Loung,"Myat said quietly. "Please remember, Commander Marshall, that the nation of Pegu used to dominate Burma and does not like being ruled from Ava."

"Leave the diplomacy to me, Myat. You"re here to translate, not to give advice. Windrush, you make sure that none of the others interferes."

Jack nodded. "Yes, sir." He raised his voice slightly. "You heard the Captain, men. Follow my lead but be gentle. These people are not our enemies, but we"re not yet sure if they are our friends."

He had brought all his men with him. He"d been tempted to leave some on Serangipatam but decided that the seamen could look after their vessel. If the Peguese proved hostile, he would need all the muskets he could get.

Serangipatam"Tell them we"re friendly," Marshall ordered as the warriors raised their spears. Another body of men ran to join them, some with muskets.

"Ready lads," Jack said softly, "but don"t fire until I tell you."

Myat balanced in the prow of the boat, facing the shore "Min ga la ba," she said "kama lo k"aw-ba-deh Myat Lay Phyu."

"Min ga la ba," she saidEven in these circumstances, Jack realised he was admiring her.

The Bo stepped forward and signalled for his men to remain still. He shouted something, and Myat replied, with the name “Commander Marshall” incongruous among the Burmese words.

There was a pause, and then the Bo replied.

"Bo Loung says that you are welcome to come to his town," Myat said.

"As well for him," Marshall grunted. "Or I would blast the place to pieces."

Marshall was first out, Navy fashion, and then Jack led his men onto land, muskets ready for trouble.

"This is Bo Loung." Myat introduced the ornately clad man, who gave a graceful bow. "He is a Pegu chieftain and entitled to respect."

Jack responded to the Bo"s bow while Marshall nodded.

A smiling Burmese woman trotted up and placed a garland of bright flowers over Marshall"s head. The commander gave an impatient tut until Myat advised him it was a sign of respect.

"Where will we talk? Ask him where we will talk?" Marshall was as abrupt to the Pegu chieftain as he was to his crew. "And tell him to get these hangers-on out of the way."

"That"s our job, boys." Jack moved forward as the Peguese warriors moved closer to the Bo. "Come on, people, let the Commander talk to your headman in peace." He pushed gently without effect until Myat spoke to the Bo, who snapped an order and his warriors stepped back slowly, eyes fixed on Jack and his men.

"Ensure I have peace, Windrush," Marshall ordered.

The Bo indicated a large hut nearby, with a wide veranda. Ignoring the gaggle of n***d children who grinned and chattered to him, Marshall pushed inside, with the Bo and Myat following.

"What do we do now, sir?" Wells asked.

"We wait." Jack swatted at the mosquitoes that already gathered around his head.

And provide food for the insects. Is this my function now? To stand guard while a John Company Commander tries to browbeat a Burmese chief into helping us?

And provide food for the insects. Is this my function now? To stand guard while a John Company Commander tries to browbeat a Burmese chief into helping us?More children swarmed to the veranda to gaze at these strange men in outlandish clothes. Wells attempted to ignore one persistent little chokerah who tugged at his trouser leg, gave the boy a gentle cuff on the shoulder and then broke an army issue biscuit in half and handed him that instead. The boy withdrew with his treasure and gnawed it, watching Wells through huge eyes. One of his companions, barely more than ten years old, lit a cigar as long as his arm and puffed mightily.

chokerahThe voices inside the hut rose and fell, with Marshall"s dominating. Jack listened for the calm tones of Myat as the sweat trickled down his face and soaked into his shirt.

"These buggers are getting a bit close," Wells indicated the men of the town. "Do you want me to chase them away, sir?"

The warriors who had been with Bo Loung had been joined by many more, so there were around fifty men gathered among the huts, only thirty yards from the 113th. They spoke among themselves, gestured towards the British and occasionally fingered the dhas they wore. About half carried spears or long flintlock muskets.

Wells squinted at the men. "They"re carrying Tower muskets sir, by the look of it; our own guns exported to be used against us."

"They know about muskets then," Jack said. "Have two men aim above their heads but don"t fire yet."

"Beg pardon sir, but I might be able to chase them without threats." Wells sounded almost apologetic. "I know a few words of Burmese, remember."

"Try if you wish," Jack said, "but be careful." He watched as Wells shouldered his musket and walked, seemingly casually, toward the gathered Burmese. When he was about fifteen paces away, he stopped, pressed his hands together as if he was about to pray and bowed toward them before saying half a dozen words in Burmese.

"Ready lads," Jack said softly. He placed his hand on the butt of his revolver, prepared to draw and fire if the crowd proved hostile. Instead, they seemed more surprised that Wells knew their language.

A man in the full turban that Jack believed signified a person of wealth stepped forward. His dha was longer than most, while a cheroot was thrust through the hole bored through the lobe of his left ear.

"If he pulls that sword," Jack spoke low-voiced to O"Neill, "drop him, but be careful not to shoot Wells." He nodded to Coleman and Thorpe. "You two keep watch on the other side of the hut. I don"t trust your marksmanship."

I don"t trust you not to aim at your sergeant.

I don"t trust you not to aim at your sergeant.Wells and the Burman were engaged in a halting conversation that included a lot of gesticulation and, on Well"s side, fewer words. After a few moments, it became apparent that the Burman was not hostile.

"He"s a decent lad," Wells called over his shoulder. "He"s Peguese and not Burman, and he has no love for the King of Ava."

"You men remain here," Jack decided. "O"Neill, you are acting corporal God help us. Keep them under control, no shooting unless we are attacked, and be pleasant to the amiable Peguese."

A small boy ran from the crowd of Burmese, grinned to Jack and thrust forward a mango toward O"Neill.

"Careful of the chokerah," Wells called out, "that"s this fellow"s son."

chokerahO"Neill knelt on one knee and accepted the fruit, handing over a farthing in return. "That"s very kind of you, young fellah." His Irish brogue seemed strangely at home in this exotic place.

The boy grinned widely, tucked the coin inside his loincloth and scampered away. Jack couldn"t resist smiling back.

"I see you are making friends with the locals." Once again, Jack hadn"t seen Myat appear. She stood outside the hut, still as any statue of Buddha.

"Sergeant Wells has it all in hand," Jack agreed.

Myat surprised him with a small smile. "You have a good sergeant."

"Did the talks go as hoped?" Jack knew that Marshall would tell him nothing.

"The Bo informed us that a dacoit chief had passed this way," Myat was more forthcoming. "He did not know if it was Bo Ailgaliutlo or not." Her smile was small but seemed to age her. How old is this woman? She"s not as young as I had thought at first. She is undoubtedly older than me. In Burma, it"s rude to ask a lady"s age. "He was just glad to see the chief pass without molesting him."

How old is this woman? She"s not as young as I had thought at first. She is undoubtedly older than me. In Burma, it"s rude to ask a lady"s age. ""How many soldiers – fighting men – were there?" Jack asked.

When Myat shook her head, her cylinder of hair bobbed on her head. "He did not count them. He said there were many." She looked toward Sergeant Wells and the thin cordon of redcoats, her eyes strangely troubled. "Far more than you have, ensign."

One British soldier is worth ten foreigners and twenty Frenchmen.

One British soldier is worth ten foreigners and twenty Frenchmen."I"m sure we can handle them."

"Please may it not happen," Myat said and added, "it would be better if Buddha were with you." She held out her hand, palm uppermost. "I will take the statuettes back to the temple for your peace of mind."

"You tried your best there," Jack approved, "but my mind is quite peaceful, thank you, and I require them myself."

"Your life and that of your soldiers are more important than wealth or worldly goods." Myat"s expression didn"t alter.

"I am responsible for my life, and the fortunes of war and not the smile of Buddha decide the fate of my soldiers." Jack felt unaccustomed anger creep over him. What right has this woman to lecture me?

What right has this woman to lecture me?Myat"s nod was graceful and unexpected. "I will be ready when you reconsider," she said, "but you are far from England. In Pegu, the teachings of Buddha have more power than the pursuit of wealth."

"There"s more to it than wealth, damn it!" Jack nearly shouted the words as Myat nodded her head again.

"Of course, there is, Ensign Windrush." Although her expression did not alter, Jack knew she was reproaching him.

Jack thrust his hands deep into his pockets and fingered the smooth gold of the statuettes. These are mine and mine they will remain. It is a soldier"s right to retain the spoils of a hard-fought battle.

These are mine and mine they will remain. It is a soldier"s right to retain the spoils of a hard-fought battle.Is it not?

Is it not?He fought away his doubts.

"The greatest goodness is a peaceful mind," Myat said gravely. "We are born afresh each day and what we do today is what is most important."

"What the devil does that mean, Myat?"

"It means yesterday"s wrong-doings can be cancelled out by the good we do today." She nodded again, held his eyes for a long second and walked with short, graceful steps toward Wells and the crowd of Peguese.

"Windrush!" Marshall barked. "I"m going back to the ship. Take charge."

Jack nodded. He was merely a spectator as three dignified elders gave gruff orders that saw a crowd of people gather. They came in ones and twos, in small groups and entire families, all talking and laughing, joking as they spoke to the men of the 113th. Jack watched as both groups conversed happily; the fact that neither knew a word of the other"s language didn"t seem to matter. That"s British soldiers for you.

That"s British soldiers for you.The sound of drums made him reach for his revolver until Wells shook his head. "It"s all right, sir. The people are putting on a pwe for us, a sort of play."

pweThere was no stage or lights and seemingly no rehearsals. The crowd merely parted to reveal a party of men and women in gaudy costumes, with two principal actors making gestures every bit as dramatic as anything in a London theatre.

"Look at the crowd, sir; half of Pegu must be here." Wells was smiling.

Jack nodded; the men of the 113th were a scarlet island amid a sea of Burmese. Men and women crushed together, talking animatedly as an orchestra of instruments Jack didn"t recognise played happily in the background. The air reeked of garlic.

"Where"s Myat? What"s this all about?"

"I am here, Ensign Windrush." Myat emerged from Wells" shadow. "The people of Pegu have organised this pwe for you. It would be impolite not to watch." She gave another faint smile. "The soldiers might even enjoy the spectacle."

As a young female dancer appeared beside the two performers, Jack agreed that the soldiers might well enjoy the show. Aware that this may be an elaborate trap, he kept a watch around the crowd, but everybody was staring at the dancer. There were no muskets on view, and the few men with dhas were watching the performance.

"The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go."

He heard Myat"s words even through the chatter of the crowd and forced himself to watch the dancer. She was as slim as all Burmese women appeared to be, with minuscule breasts and flaring hips under a scarlet longyi. She pirouetted to what sounded like bagpipes, leaping in the air and landing to the clashing of drums. Every soldier present focused on the girl.

Eventually, the music climaxed. The girl"s face was white with thanaka paste that protected the skin from the sun and stiff with concentration. The 113th was in unison with the Pegu crowd, cheering the dancer"s rhythmic movements; they were part of this pwe, as was he. Jack allowed the atmosphere to wash over him. When the girl turned away and rotated her bottom to the pulsating rhythm the men of the 113th cheered loudly. I wonder if Myat could do that. Jack found he was smiling, searching for her in the crowd.

thanakaI wonder if Myat could do thatTheir eyes met, briefly and he looked away before she did. Then the music altered again, the girl came off to appreciative applause from the 113th, and the crowd surged forward.

A group of men surrounded Jack, nearly carrying him in their enthusiasm to make friends.

"Drink!" A man stumbled over the unfamiliar English word as he thrust a wooden cup of something into Jack"s hand. He held it at arm"s length until the man retrieved the cup, sipped, smiled and handed it back.

"Thank you," Jack said. It tasted very sweet. He sipped more. He allowed the man to escort him inside a hut, where undressed teak poles held up a thatched roof, and bamboo covered the floor. Other men pressed closer, talking loudly, offering him fruit and drink, smiling, talking and so obviously wishing to prove their friendship that he relaxed. He sat cross-legged on the floor beside the others, replying in English as they spoke in Burmese, but somehow, language did not matter. He was among friends. He drank more of the sweet liquid and laughed out loud.

The music of the pwe continued to reverberate in Jack"s head. He drank more and smiled as his Peguese friend filled his cup up, then saw Myat at the open door talking with an older man and waved to her. She nodded to him and moved closer, with the men moving to give her room. Myat tasted the drink in his cup.

"It"s very sweet," Jack heard the slur of his own words.

"It"s made from sugar cane," Myat told him.

Jack drank more. "The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go." He repeated her words.

Myat stood up, and Jack watched her as she walked away. He wanted to reach out and pull her back, his mind filled with images he had suppressed for years and others he had never known before.

"Myat…"

She didn"t answer.

"Myat…"

She was gone. There were only Burmese men in the hut, and two soldiers of the 113th, together with a handful of women in cheap longyis and sandals; their black hair hung loose and open mouths displayed teeth stained red with betel juice.

longyisDear God: what am I doing? I"m a British officer consorting here with rankers and women of the lowest morals.

Dear God: what am I doing? I"m a British officer consorting here with rankers and women of the lowest morals.Jack struggled up, spilling the contents of his cup. "Excuse me," he said, "I have to go." He stumbled out of the hut into the darkness of the evening. "I"m a visitor here," he said to the first person he met.

Myat nodded. "I know," she said. Her eyes smiled at him.