Jack Windrush Collection

Chapter 17

The jungle felt closer and even more menacing from a small boat in the open river. Jack fingered his revolver as Bertram slowly rowed forward, testing underneath the water with a long pole to search for stakes or other obstructions.

"Here we are," Bertram reported at once. "They"ve staked the deep-water channel."

"Mark the stakes with a flag," Marshall shouted from the bow of Serangipatam. "And secure a line around them."

SerangipatamRough-hewn and pointed, the stakes protruded from the water in an irregular row, securely hammered into the bed of the river and lethal. Bertram stripped off and jumped in the river to tie a line around each. "There are more stakes underwater," he reported.

Insects soon found the men in the boat, buzzing and biting despite any attempts to swat them.

Hurry it along.

Hurry it along.Jack watched Bertram slide underwater with a slender line. He looked around; the jungle crowded on them, overhanging trees seeming to invite agile dacoits to ambush them.

"There are no drums." Wells scanned the riverbanks. "Why are they not taking advantage of us when we"re static?"

"Maybe we killed so many of them yesterday they have to regroup," Jack hoped.

Bertram surfaced with a surge of water and hauled himself on the boat. "That"s one." He handed the line to one of the seamen. "Secure this to a stronger cable, Hughson." He winked at Jack. "Three more and we"ll have a gap wide enough for old Seringy to pass through."

SeringyTaking another length of the thin line, he poised on the edge of the boat and dived in again. Green water surged and subsided. Jack watched his pale body under the surface for a moment and returned his attention to the river banks.

"That"s two." Bertram was gasping when he emerged. He rested his arms on the side of the boat before pulling himself in. "Two more to go."

"How"s progress, Lieutenant Bertram?" Marshall called.

"Halfway, sir," Bertram replied. He jumped back in the water just as the arrow thrummed into the wooden plank at Jack"s side.

"Where did that come from?" Jack eyed the imaginary shelter of the boat"s low freeboard. He knew he couldn"t duck in front of the men.

"The left bank, sir." Wells scanned the jungle. "I can"t see anyone."

Jack flinched as a blue-rumped parrot screeched above him. "Keep alert." He knew the order was superfluous.

"Yes, sir."

The second arrow thumped into the prow of the boat, an inch from a sailor.

"There"s only one archer, I think." Wells was as calm as if he was sitting in an English pub.

"That"s three done." Bertram was gasping. He leaned on the gunwale for support. "All right up here?"

"All under control," Jack told him. "You get your breath back before you go back below."

"There he is!" Armstrong aimed and fired in the same instant, with the sound of the musket sending a hundred birds screaming from the trees.

"What…?" Bertram looked astonished.

"It"s nothing for you to worry about, sir. You get a line on that last stake." Jack ducked at the whistle of another arrow. "Will somebody get that blasted archer?"

This time the 113th was ready, and four muskets blasted in unison.

"There he is!" Jack saw a flicker of movement in the trees and shouted. "Don"t shoot! It"s only a boy!"

"He"s a dead boy!" Armstrong would have fired, had Jack not grabbed the barrel of his musket.

"I said, hold your fire! We"re not here to shoot children!" For a second, the two men glared at each other, and then Armstrong dropped his eyes.

"Sorry, sir."

Jack released the musket and pushed Armstrong away. "Try and get that line done quickly, Bertram, could you?"

Bertram submerged with a swirl. The 113th scanned the jungle.

"Wells – shout out that we"re friends. If he does not fire, neither will we." Jack took a deep breath and stood upright. "You men keep down."

"I don"t know how to say that, sir," Wells said, "but I"ll do my best." He stood beside Jack and shouted: "twé-yá-da wùn-tha-ba-deh,"and then lowered his voice. "I think that means “good to meet you”, sir."

"twé-yá-da wùn-tha-ba-deh"Now get down, Sergeant." Jack remained standing until Bertram surfaced.

"Get back on board," Marshall ordered, "and get some clothes on, Bertram. You"re a naval officer."

Bertram scrambled hastily into his uniform as sailors passed the line from the stakes to Serangipatam. "Get us back to the ship, lads."

Serangipatam"Half astern," Marshall ordered as soon as they stepped aboard.

Serangipatam steamed astern with a great rush of water breaking creamy brown along the river bank. Jack joined the men in the bow as the cable tautened, then began to vibrate.

Serangipatam"Nothing"s happening, sir," Sinclair reported.

The river at Serangipatam"s counter churned into a creamy froth as her engines strained and then all four stakes leapt out of the water and floated, double pointed and barbed halfway down the length.

Serangipatam"Halt engines," Marshall ordered quietly. "Quarter speed ahead. Bertram, put a leadsman in the bows."

"That"s one more advantage of a screw steamer over sail." Bertram was grinning. "If we were only sail-powered, we would have had much more difficulty with these stakes." He gestured toward the banks of the river. "These Burmese won"t understand how we can go back and forward at will without using oars or the wind or even the river current. It will be like magic to them."

Jack looked to the dense foliage that crowded each bank of the river. "Even so," he said, "it was a well-worked ambush, and they pressed forward well. Bo Ailgaliutlo knows his business."

Bertram winked. "Aye he does," he said, "but so does Commander Marshall. The dacoit chief has met his match this time. The commander will hunt him down and drag him back to Moulmein in chains, or hang him from a convenient tree."

A few weeks ago, Jack would have been surprised to hear such bloodthirsty sentiments from a fresh-faced youth like Bertram, but the reality of war on the frontier had hardened him. Death and disease and the s*******r of innocents had stripped away childish illusions.

"Hanging"s the best thing for renegades and dacoits," Jack agreed. He fingered the golden Buddhas in the pockets of his shell jacket. It was as well Bo Ailgaliutlo didn"t organise an ambush where that young archer had been.

Marshall had not shifted from the poop. "Sinclair, put a scout boat a cable"s length in front to watch for stakes and other obstacles." He pushed his cap square on his head. "Keep your men alert, Windrush."

"Yes, sir." Jack saw the figure standing static on the branch. At first, he thought it was part of the tree, and then he focussed. It was a youth, perhaps fourteen years old and so covered in tattoos that it was hard to see where the boy ended, and the tree began. As soon as Jack saw him, the boy backed off a pace and sped up a creeper so fast that Jack found it hard to follow him.

"Was that a monkey, sir?" Thorpe had seen the movement.

"Something like that," Jack said. He had seen that tattooed boy before; Bo Ailgaliutlo had sent a spy and knew precisely what they were doing.

Progress slowed to a crawl as they inched up the river, with the oarsmen replaced every two hours and the soldiers every four. There were no more attacks that day, no sound of drums, nothing except the constant swish of the river, the natural sounds of birds and the ever-present hum of insects.

"They"ve all gone." Thorpe shifted on the wooden thwart of the boat. "There"s nobody left in the world."

"Just us," Wells waited for a few moments before he added, "and ten thousand dacoits."

"Are there that many?" Thorpe"s eyes widened.

"There are at least that many," Wells kept his voice low, "and all looking for you. So be vigilant Thorpey, keep your piece loaded and watch the banks like a hungry hawk!"

"Did you hear the sergeant?" Thorpe repeated in a whisper, "he says there are thousands of them dacoits watching us all the time."

"There"s one there," Coleman pointed to an overhanging banyan tree, "I see him!"

"So do I!" Thorpe pointed his musket, but before he had time to press the trigger, Jack pushed the barrel up.

"Easy Thorpe, don"t let your imagination take over." He glowered at Coleman. "And you keep your mouth under control, Coleman."

This expedition is insanity. Bo Ailgaliutlo has hundreds of dacoits while we are only a handful; he knows exactly where we are and what we are doing. His men are masters of the forest, and although we can always beat them in a straight fight, the dacoits are expert in ambuscade and devils for trickery. All we are doing is providing food for the insects and weakening our army.

This expedition is insanity. Bo Ailgaliutlo has hundreds of dacoits while we are only a handful; he knows exactly where we are and what we are doing. His men are masters of the forest, and although we can always beat them in a straight fight, the dacoits are expert in ambuscade and devils for trickery. All we are doing is providing food for the insects and weakening our army."Anchor in mid-stream," Marshall ordered an hour before dusk, "and rig boarding nets."

Jack watched as the seamen hoisted nets of rough rope to the yardarms and fastened them to the rail all around the ship. "Keep it slack," Marshall gave brief instructions. "It"s harder to cut through slack rope than taut, and more difficult to climb up."

"Do you think they"re still there?" Lieutenant Sinclair asked.

"They"re there," Marshall said. "They are watching us right now."

Jack fought the shiver that ran down his spine. He imagined those wiry, fierce warriors hiding behind the screen of jungle with their long muskets and sharp dhas. "Half the men on watch at all times, Sergeant Wells," he said.

"There"s one!" Thorpe pointed into the dark. "I see one!" he pointed his musket and fired, the shot echoing around them.

"I can see one too!" Armstrong fired, "they"re coming again!"

"Cease fire!" Jack yelled. He grabbed Coleman"s musket before he also wasted a musket ball. "There"s nothing there but shadows!"

"If you can"t keep your men under control, Windrush, I"ll have them all disarmed and confined in irons." Marshall"s chilling voice came from the quarterdeck.

"Yes, sir," Jack acknowledged.

"Right, you men!" Jack heard the anger in his voice. "I don"t want anybody to fire without permission from Sergeant Wells or me; do you understand? If anybody fires without orders, I"ll give them fifty at the triangle." He took a deep breath. "In fact, I don"t want anybody doing anything without orders. I only want you to watch for the dacoits. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Coleman and Thorpe said at once.

Jack handed back Coleman"s musket. "All right. Reload and keep your positions. Shout out if you see the dacoits but otherwise, say nothing and don"t shoot!"

Jack took a deep breath and turned away. They can"t help it. They can only work within the limitations of their capabilities.

They can"t help it. They can only work within the limitations of their capabilities."Rig lanterns again, Lieutenant Bertram," Marshall ordered, "but darken the side that faces the ship so the light is all projected outwards and Serangipatam is in darkness. In other words, we can see them, but they can"t see us. Have ten men ready with cutlasses and muskets, and the duty watch is to be armed as well. Guns loaded with case shot and ready to fire."

SerangipatamDespite their precarious position, Jack always found the sunset possessed a calming beauty. He stood beside the mainmast, watching the sun blaze orange-gold behind the tangled trees of the jungle, with the reflection flickering along the ripples of the river. He enjoyed the rare serenity, between the heat of the day and the unknown sounds of the night.

He looked astern, where Myat sat on the stern rail, with her profile silhouetted against the dying sun as she talked to Sergeant Wells. Short-nosed and with a determined chin, she was small-breasted and serene.

God, she"s beautiful.

God, she"s beautiful.The thought came unbidden to Jack"s mind, and he abruptly looked away. He was not here to indulge in any fruitless amorous adventures with the indigenous people, or with any b****y woman. He was here to enhance the reputation of the 113th, and push forward his career. The reminder caused him to put his hand in his pocket and caress the smooth gold of a Buddha.

This statuette is the first step to where I belong. This statuette is my future, not some Burmese woman.

This statuette is the first step to where I belong. This statuette is my future, not some Burmese woman.Myat laughed, the sound as musical as temple bells on a sultry dawn. Jack looked up as Wells also laughed. He felt the surge of unreasoning anger and opened his mouth to shout, then closed it again quickly.

I"m jealous! I am jealous of a sergeant because he is talking to a native woman.

I"m jealous! I am jealous of a sergeant because he is talking to a native woman.Jack turned away to face the darkness of the east.

"Have you thought yet, Ensign Windrush?" Myat"s voice was serene as she stood beside him. The orchid was fresh and white against the dark of her hair.

"Thought about what, Myat?" He used her name deliberately although the syllables were awkward on his tongue.

"Have you thought about returning the stolen statues to their proper home?" Myat was blunt without being offensive.

"They remain with me."

"You are a Christian," Myat gave a graceful little nod, "and I respect your belief, but sometimes, Ensign Windrush, it is wise to heed our religion and philosophy."

Was that a threat?

Was that a threat?"Thank you for your advice, Myat,." Jack bowed in return. "However, I am sure that I will survive without the good opinion of Mr Buddha."

Myat"s expression didn"t alter. "As you wish, Ensign Windrush. Please remember that the greatest action is not in gaining position, but in not conforming to the ways of the world. When you choose to alter your mind, please tell me."

Jack noticed her small head shake as she passed Wells.

So that"s it. Myat and Wells are in this together; he wants her to get my Buddhas.

So that"s it. Myat and Wells are in this together; he wants her to get my Buddhas."Sergeant Wells!" Jack spoke louder than he intended. "Take the first watch, please. Wake me at midnight."

The sound was slight but out of place. Jack realised he"d been listening to it for some time before his conscious mind took note. He checked the time; two in the morning, about four hours until dawn. He had been on watch for two hours.

Is it my nerves? Or am I imagining things and is my mind playing tricks on me?

Is it my nerves? Or am I imagining things and is my mind playing tricks on me?The noise continued – it sounded like somebody was slapping the hull with his hand, a hollow, irregular beat.

"Can you hear that, Hook?" Jack only whispered.

Hook was Officer of the Watch. He listened, shook his head, removed his hat and listened again. "I can hear something," he said, "I think."

The sound continued as Jack walked the deck. "Can you hear that Thorpe?"

"Yes, sir," Thorpe slammed to attention.

"Do you know what it is?"

"No, sir," Thorpe said.

"Why did you not report it, Thorpe? It"s your duty to report anything unusual." Jack fought down his exasperation.

"We was told not to fire or do anything without orders, sir." Thorpe tried to look stoical, as befitted a British soldier.

Jack sighed. "So you were, Thorpe. In future, if you see or hear anything that you don"t think is right, report it at once to Sergeant Wells or myself."

Can I trust Wells with that responsibility? I have no choice, damn it.

Can I trust Wells with that responsibility? I have no choice, damn it.That tiny sound continued to irritate Jack. It acted as a backdrop to the natural sounds of the night as he toured the ship, trying to trace it to its source.

"Sir," the seaman was short and wiry with eyes that shone intelligently above a nutmeg-brown face. "I believe you"re looking for a noise, sir."

"That"s right," Jack nodded.

"It"s over here, sir." The man nearly grabbed hold of Jack"s sleeve in his eagerness to help.

Jack knelt at the rail. A section of the boarding net was open, and one of the loose ends trailed over the side, tapping against the hull with every roll of the ship. "Is this meant to be like this … what"s your name?"

"Anderson sir." The seaman shook his head. "No, sir. The net should be intact." He stooped closer. "I reckon some bugger — beg pardon, sir– somebody has cut this, and recently."

When Jack examined the ends, he saw that somebody had neatly sliced the rope. Tracing the squares of the net, he found five distinct cuts. "A small man could get in here," he said. The more he looked, the more he saw. The deck was wet in places just within the gap in the boarding net, with what might be the drying semblance of a human foot. "Somebody has come on board here," he said.

"One of these Burmese fellows," Anderson agreed at once. "There"s wet footprints over here too, sir, leading to number two hatch."

"Inform Lieutenant Hook," Jack decided. Number two hatch led to the engine room via a short ladder and a dark passageway. Jack pulled out his revolver and cautiously negotiated the ladder. He had no desire to meet a party of dacoits in the dark. With these viciously sharp dhas, they were dangerous enough when he could see them.

Scratching a Lucifer, Jack applied the tiny flame to a lantern and eased himself into the passageway. The light pooled ahead, yellow against the dark woodwork. He held it low, seeing the damp stains on the deck and the splash of something that was not water. Placing the lantern on the deck, Jack looked closer. The liquid was dark and sticky, while the direction of the splash indicated that somebody coming away from the engine room had dropped it.

It"s blood. There are three, no four, splashes of blood on the deck.

It"s blood. There are three, no four, splashes of blood on the deck.Something terrible has happened here.

Something terrible has happened here.There was another small hatch with a second ladder descending to the engine room which, together with the coal bunker, took up over half the space on the lowest deck. Jack held the lantern over the open hatch and peered down. There should be one of the two engineers on watch in the stifling heat, together with one of the four firemen, the seaborne labourers who stoked the boilers and did all the essential labouring tasks in the furnace heat below decks.

"Halloa," Jack called softly.

There was no reply.

He shifted his lantern, so the light played on the shiny, still engine below.

"Halloa!" He raised his voice slightly.

Still no reply.

Holding the lantern in his left hand and the revolver in his right, Jack climbed down the ladder, jumped the final three steps and looked around the engine room.

Oh, dear God in heaven!

Oh, dear God in heaven!Blood shimmered across the deck with every movement of the ship. The engineer lay on his back, his white shirt and dirty white trousers all terribly stained with blood. Somebody had cut his throat so deeply that his head sat at an acute angle from his body. A fireman lay next to him, bare-chested and with his fists closed into tight balls; his throat was also expertly cut.

"Windrush?" The light from Marshall"s lantern merged with his own. "Move aside." He knelt beside the engineer. "Dead," he said, "and the second Engineer has also been murdered in his bunk. Did your men hear nothing?"

"Not a thing," Jack reported. "The dacoits must have come aboard during the night, sliced through the net and moved straight to the engine room and the engineer"s quarters."

"They knew exactly where to come and who to murder," Marshall said. "They killed the most vital men on board, for, without engineers, we are entirely dependent on the wind and current." For the first time since Jack had met him, Marshall looked worried. "Bo Ailgaliutlo has hit hard this time." He nodded. "He must have had help. No Burmese dacoit would know his way around a steam screw ship." His voice was low and cutting. "Your soldiers should have kept a proper watch; that will be in my report, Mr Windrush – you can depend on it."

Without another word, Marshall raced to the spar deck. "Myat! Come here!"

It was still an hour shy of dawn, with the river black beyond the circle of lantern light and the ship stunned by news of the murders.

"They must have had help." The words whispered from man to man. "It was that woman; never trust a Burmese."

Was it Myat? Would she help Bo Ailgaliutlo?

Was it Myat? Would she help Bo Ailgaliutlo?"Myat is not Burmese," Wells said quietly. "She is from Pegu. She would never betray us."

"You seem to know a lot about the translator, Wells." The jealousy returned, twisting knife-like inside Jack as he imagined Wells and Myat together, writhing n***d on the bamboo mats in that hut in Pegu.

Before Wells could reply, Myat appeared on deck, walking as serene as always with her lacquered sandals making no sound on the teak planking.

"There she is, the murdering b***h!" One of the remaining firemen pointed an accusing finger. "We should string her up!"

"None of that!" Jack shouted.

"Ensign Windrush!" Marshall did not raise his voice. "I will take care of discipline on my ship. Your concern is the laxity of your guards that allowed dacoits to murder my crew." He took hold of Myat"s arm. "You, madam, stand there."

A petty officer moved closer as Marshall addressed Myat.

"Do you know anything about the murder of three of my crew?" Marshall was as direct as ever.

Myat bowed her head before the Commander. "I knew nothing until one of your men told me," she said quietly.

"There is no fear in her," O"Neill said. "She is not afraid at all."

"That"s because she"s b****y innocent." Wells" voice was hard.

Jack remembered his doubts about Myat and Wells only the previous day. Wells shifted restlessly on deck. His eyes fixed on the quarter-deck where Marshall conducted his very public interrogation.

"The dacoits boarded us last night and murdered my engineers and one of my firemen," Marshall recounted the facts. "They could only have known where to go if somebody had told them, and only you speak Burmese and know the layout of the ship."

"I have had no dealings with Bo Ailgaliutlo or any of his men," Myat said softly. "He is the enemy of my people."

"Told you," Wells said softly.

"I am inclined to hang you out of hand," Marshall mused, "and leave your body to dangle above the river as a warning to others." He glared at Myat. "Or I could have the ship"s corporal beat the truth out of you!"

Wells stiffened. His hand strayed to the hilt of his bayonet.

Should I interfere? Should I speak up for Myat? Why? I don"t entirely trust her myself, and she is the only person on board who can communicate with the dacoits, but I have seen Wells speak a few words of Burmese as well.

Should I interfere? Should I speak up for Myat? Why? I don"t entirely trust her myself, and she is the only person on board who can communicate with the dacoits, but I have seen Wells speak a few words of Burmese as well.Despite himself, Jack put a single finger on Well"s tense arm. "Easy, Sergeant."

"I"ll do for him, sir, I"ll f*****g do for him."

"Enough, Sergeant." He has fallen under Myat"s spell as much as I have.

He has fallen under Myat"s spell as much as I have."Instead, I will confine you in irons under armed guard, pending interrogation when we return to Rangoon." Marshall spoke more loudly than usual. "And if you attempt to escape, the guard will shoot you dead."

Jack saw Wells relax slightly; his hand slid away from the hilt of the bayonet.

Myat didn"t protest as two burly seamen hustled her below; she exchanged one glance with Wells, and then the burly ship"s corporal shoved her ungently below deck.

"Assemble all hands at dawn," Marshall ordered and left the quarterdeck.

Jack fingered the Buddhas inside his pocket. "What was that all about, Sergeant?"

"I don"t like to see women treated like that, sir."

Especially that particular woman, eh, sergeant?

"I understand, Sergeant, but if you had pulled that bayonet, the commander would have hanged you for mutiny."

"Yes, sir." Wells" face was unreadable.

Jack touched his Buddhas. All I have to do is survive this campaign and get back to England. He pictured the house on the western slopes of the Malvern Hills, facing the sweet fields of Herefordshire. He would have servants and lands, a carriage or two and an elegant wife. Survive and leave.

All I have to do is survive this campaign and get back to EnglandSurvive and leave."Men!" Commander Marshall had donned full dress uniform including a gold hilted sword and an immaculate coat. He looked down at his assembled crew, and for only the second time since Jack had known him, he smiled. "We have pursued this renegade Bo Ailgaliutlo from Rangoon to this God-forsaken spot; we have seen the outrages of which he is capable, we have defeated his ambush, and we know exactly where his den is."

Marshall swept his hand toward the jungle behind him in a gesture so melodramatic it could grace a London stage or a Pegu pwe.

"He is there! In there from his stinking fastness, Bo Ailgaliutlo sent assassins to murder three of our shipmates!" Taking off his cap, Marshall shook his head. "My men and your friends, butchered without mercy." He waited until the crew had hooted their anger. "Well my lads, it"s time for retribution. We are going after this fox, this wolf, this evil renegade, this blood-dyed traitor. We are going to land on that shore," Marshall pointed to the river bank, "and we are going to singe his beard, we are going to hunt the lion from his den, we are going to bell this traitorous cat!"

That"s too flowery. That speech will not inspire British seamen and soldiers.

That"s too flowery. That speech will not inspire British seamen and soldiers.Jack shook his head as the bluejackets broke into mighty cheers that echoed from the jungle and silenced the sounds of birds. He watched his men – Coleman and Armstrong cheered with the seamen, while the veteran O"Neill looked thoughtful. Only Wells was silent. The sergeant touched a hand to his bayonet and threw the commander a look that should have killed him stone dead.