Jack Windrush Collection

Chapter 19

For a long time, the pain dominated Jack"s life. He closed his eyes and fought the scream that he wanted to emit, but knew he could not. All his life, he had been trained to control his emotions, as a British gentleman should. His mother – or the cold-eyed woman he had thought of as his mother – had taught him never to react to pain by inflicting more of the same, which was a lesson reinforced at the boarding school where he had suffered his childhood and youthful years.

Jack dragged back these lessons now and put the pain into perspective. There was more than one pain; there was the overall mental pain of defeat, and there was the single sharp agony in his left thigh. It was that latter pain that he found hard to control – it was that pain he had to identify and ease, or at least understand.

He looked around. He was one of three people inside the defensive pit, a hole with pointed stakes pointing upward for the attackers to fall on; a trou de loup as the technical experts would term it. The Burmese had camouflaged their trap with mats of dry grass, and he had led the 113thstraight in, like the inexperieneced Griffin he was. Coleman lay bleeding from his head, while Graham was screaming with a pointed stake through his groin and another deep in his chest. Jack looked at his thigh; the point of the stake had gone straight through and out the other side. The pain came in waves. His sword lay between the stakes, the ineffectual glitter of its blade mocking him.

trou de loupOh, dear God, we are at the mercy of Bo Ailgaliutlo. Instead of bringing honour and glory to the 113th, I have led them to another defeat; that"s the Curse of the 113th.

Oh, dear God, we are at the mercy of Bo Ailgaliutlo. Instead of bringing honour and glory to the 113th,I have led them to another defeat; that"s the Curse of the 113th.The desultory firing ceased, in its place came Burmese voices and high-pitched laughter. When Jack looked up, a circle of Burmese faces peered down at him, somebody pointed and laughed, and three wiry men in loincloths and brief turbans jumped into the pit. They ignored the British soldiers and lifted the muskets and Jack"s sword, which they tossed up to their companions.

Two men stood over Graham, who continued to scream. One Burmese with a deep gouge down his face sat on him, so he slid further onto the stake, while the others laughed at the renewed screams.

"You filthy bastards!" Jack gasped, "torturing an injured man! You dirty hounds!"

Leaving Graham, the dacoits stepped to Jack and stared at him. One kicked his injured leg while the other fingered his uniform.

"British officer," Jack said. "Leave my men alone!"

The two Burmese spoke again, ignoring Graham and the stake that was thrust through Jack"s leg until Graham gave a long gurgling moan. Jack became aware of a man on the lip of the pit, watching everything that happened. He wore a faded red jacket, but it was the eyes that were familiar.

"Halloa!" Jack heard the catch in his voice. "Are you Bo Ailgaliutlo, the Englishman?"

The man in the red jacket looked at him but said nothing.

"Help Private Graham," Jack said, "he is badly wounded and needs attention. He cannot harm you in his condition. Please." He found it difficult to be polite to a renegade and enemy to his country, but Graham was one of his men. "Please, Bo Ailgaliutlo."

The man in the red coat said something and one of the Burmese in the pit drew his dha and stepped toward Graham.

"No!" Jack shouted, "help him!"

The man looked directly at Jack, and then pulled back Graham"s head, so his throat was bare and slowly, deliberately cut his throat. Graham gurgled as the blood poured out of him.

"You dirty murdering bastard!" Jack tried to wriggle free of the stake, but the pain intensified, and he shrank back, swearing. Bo Ailgaliutlo watched expressionlessly from above, then spoke again and pointed to Jack. The Burmese with the dha stepped forward and grabbed hold of Jack"s hair.

"Let go!" Jack swung a punch. He knew it was unavailing, but he was determined not to make it easy for them.

So this is how I die; murdered in a stinking pit in Burma by a dacoit. No glory and no honour, no brave last stand around the colours, no medals and no admiring witnesses. Sordid, dirty and unknown, here dies Jack Windrush, unwanted bastard.

So this is how I die; murdered in a stinking pit in Burma by a dacoit. No glory and no honour, no brave last stand around the colours, no medals and no admiring witnesses. Sordid, dirty and unknown, here dies Jack Windrush, unwanted bastard."You leave Ensign Windrush be!" Jack was unaware that Coleman was conscious. "I said, you leave Ensign Windrush be, you dirty Burmese devils!"

Bo Ailgaliutlo said one word and held up a hand. The Burmese knifeman paused. Bo Ailgaliutlo spoke again, and the knifeman put his dha away.

"What is your name?" Bo Ailgaliutlo spoke with difficulty as if he found the words painful to use.

"Ensign Jack Windrush of the 113th Regiment of Foot," Jack said. "And this is Private John Coleman of the same regiment. The wounded soldier your brute so foully murdered was Private Henry Graham—"

"He was dying in great pain," Bo Ailgaliutlo said slowly. "My man did him a great service by killing him. He would have lingered for hours with no hope of survival." He changed to Burmese again, giving sharp orders.

The Burmese crowded around Jack and examined the stake through his thigh.

"What are you going to do?" Jack asked.

They ignored him, grabbed the stake and ripped it bodily out of the ground. Jack screamed and yelled again when they hoisted him between them and dragged him to the surface.

Control yourself; British officers do not show pain.

Control yourself; British officers do not show pain.Bo Ailgaliutlo looked closely into Jack"s face, nodded and gave more orders.

Jack bit deep into his lip as the Burmese laid him on face up on the ground. Bo Ailgaliutlo stood over him as they brandished a dha and put it to his groin.

So now I am to be tortured. Well, I know nothing of any use to anybody.

So now I am to be tortured. Well, I know nothing of any use to anybody.One of the Burmese patted his pockets as expertly as any London pickpocket. He said something to his companion, thrust his hand in deep and came out holding one of Jack"s golden Buddhas. They laughed and ransacked Jack"s clothes, removing both Buddhas and Jack"s pocket-book.

"So you"ve been looting have you?" Bo Ailgaliutlo shook his head. He held out his hand and took the Buddhas and the wallet. Flicking through the pocket-book, he tossed all the coins and banknotes to the Burmese. "I"ll look through your papers later, ensign," he said and spoke to his followers.

The Burman sliced open Jack"s trousers from waistband to ankles and pulled them away, and then Bo Ailgaliutlo tied a tourniquet around his upper thigh.

"This will hurt," he said, and held Jack down while the Burmese pushed the stake right through his leg and out the other side.

Jack heard himself scream, and then merciful unconsciousness released him from pain.

He opened his eyes. There was mottled sunlight through darkness and the sound of rustling. Pain, always pain, in everything he did there was pain. He looked around. He was in a large wooden hut with a roof of thatch through which sun seeped in motte-filled bars. Pain. There were other people there, men, some of whom he recognised, others he did not.

"The officer"s awake." That was Thorpe"s voice.

"Welcome back, sir." There was dried blood from O"Neill"s head to his chin, and something had ripped his uniform across the breast. "You"ve been out for two days, near as I can judge."

"Where are we?" Jack"s head thumped with every word while both legs were ablaze with agony. He looked down; he was lying on his back, chained by the wrists to a long pole with his bare legs raised high and fastened to another pole. Some kind person had slapped a mess of leaves and ripe bananas on the throbbing wound in his thigh.

"In some prison hut, sir," O"Neill said. "A lot of the lads are here, but not all. Some of the sailor boys are here as well."

Jack closed his eyes and allowed the pain to wash over him.

I"m a prisoner of the Burmese. I have led my men to defeat and disaster. I"m a failure as an officer.

I"m a prisoner of the Burmese. I have led my men to defeat and disaster. I"m a failure as an officer."Roll call," Jack heard the strain in his voice. "Let"s see who is here." His voice was a croak. "Sergeant Wells, call the roll if you please."

There was silence for a moment before O"Neill spoke again. "Beg pardon sir, but the sergeant didn"t make it. He"s not here, sir."

Wells dead! That wise, subtle, cunning veteran killed.

Wells dead! That wise, subtle, cunning veteran killed."How did he die?" Jack asked.

"I don"t know sir." O"Neill shook his head.

"Does anybody know?"

Nobody knew. Nobody had seen him fall. Thorpe and Armstrong had survived, with O"Neill and Coleman, but all the others of the 113th were gone. The seamen had also suffered casualties, with officers as well as men falling before Burmese shot and blades. There were only forty prisoners in that hut, some wounded and all despondent.

"Not the best day, then." Bertram"s voice sounded from the far corner of the hut. "I saw the Commander taken, so he"s still alive, but I don"t know where. Old Sinclair is dead though. One of the cavalrymen spitted him clean."

"What happens now?" Lieutenant Buchanan asked weakly. In common with all the others, he was chained on his back. He rattled his chains in despair.

"We have two choices," Jack said. "Either we sit and wait for rescue, or we try and get out of here ourselves."

"Let"s hope that Lieutenant Hook had the sense to get back down to Rangoon," Bertram said. "Even without engines, he should be there within a week or ten days, and there could be a relief column up within a month at the most."

"A month!" Buchanan lifted his feet, so the chains rattled. "I can"t stand a month like this."

"Hopefully, they"ll come before that," Jack said. He looked up as the door opened and two Burmese entered, escorting Bo Ailgaliutlo between them.

"You are Windrush." Bo Ailgaliutlo did not waste time.

"I am Ensign Jack Windrush of the 113th Foot," Jack agreed.

Bo Ailgaliutlo nodded. "Are you any relation to Major William Windrush?"

"General William Windrush was my father." Jack lifted his chin.

Bo Ailgaliutlo stepped back slightly. "So, he made General rank did he, and you are his pup." He leaned closer, his eyes china-blue and laughing. "You may be useful as a bargaining token, later."

"You knew my father did you, you traitorous blackguard." Jack"s tongue betrayed him once more.

"I knew of him." Bo Ailgaliutlo didn"t seem concerned by the insult. "I"m surprised you are in the 113th. That family always served in the Royal Malverns." He nodded to the Burmese and snapped an order that saw Jack released and dragged out of the hut with his leg trailing behind him. He yelled once and bit his lip against the pain.

"Keep your chin up, Windrush!" Bertram shouted.

"Don"t you hurt the ensign, you dirty bastards!" Coleman added but chained as they were, the 113th could do nothing but shout encouragement as Jack was dragged out. They were in a group of huts within the walls of the stockade, with groups of Burmese men and women walking around, some armed, others not. A few stopped to watch him.

"You treasonous blackguard!" Jack tried to ignore the shooting agony of his injured leg. "As soon as General Godwin hears about this, he"ll send a relief column and destroy your fort and all your men. You"ll hang, Bo Ailgaliutlo."

"I very much doubt that Ensign Windrush," Bo Ailgaliutlo said dryly. He said something in Burmese and the two silent guards pulled Jack to a line of upright poles set in the centre of the stockade. "How will the good general find out, when we have captured your lovely little boat?"

Nausea rose in Jack"s gut as he saw that there was a man tied to each pole. "Dear God," he said, "what have you done to them?"

"We killed them," Bo Ailgaliutlo said.

"You barbarian; you murdering dog!" Jack recognised the first mutilated body as Lieutenant Hook and the second as what remained of Knight. After that, he stopped looking, for all the men had been sliced and hacked to death.

"Barbarian?" Bo Ailgaliutlo shrugged. "That is entirely possible, ensign, but only a moment ago you threatened my men and me with hanging, while your Sergeant Wells tortured a wounded prisoner. The kettle and the pot are both black in wartime, my upstanding, gentlemanly friend."

And Myat? Where are Myat and Ranveer?

And Myat? Where are Myat and Ranveer?"Did you kill everybody on board?" Jack asked.

"Not everybody; we are not as ruthless as the British." Bo Ailgaliutlo didn"t elaborate. He spoke again in Burmese, and his men pulled Jack inside a small hut. They proved their experience in this sort of operation when they chained Jack to a log with a few skilful moves and stood back.

"Now, I have two hostages," Bo Ailgaliutlo pointed to the far corner of the hut, "and I only need one. Which of you will I keep alive and which will I give to my men, or my women, to dispose of?"

"Damn you, you murdering traitor," Jack said. He peered into the far corner of the hut. Commander Marshall lay on the ground, securely tied down.

What do I do now? We are prisoners of a renegade in the heart of Burma. The Burmese have captured my ship, and all my men are dead or prisoner. Yet Bo Ailgaliutlo knows my family and to judge by his accent; he is well educated. He was no private soldier; he was a sergeant at least, or perhaps a gentleman ranker.

What do I do now? We are prisoners of a renegade in the heart of Burma. The Burmese have captured my ship, and all my men are dead or prisoner. Yet Bo Ailgaliutlo knows my family and to judge by his accent; he is well educated. He was no private soldier; he was a sergeant at least, or perhaps a gentleman ranker."Is that you Windrush?" Despite his predicament, Marshall"s voice was as acidic as ever. "Damn you for an incompetent buffoon! I sent you to chase the cavalry away, and they merely circled us. I sent you to make a path for the main assault force, and you immediately fall into a ditch."

Jack didn"t try to contain his tongue. "The whole affair was pointless, sir, attacking a stockade with a handful of men and two small cannon."

"You give me impudence, Windrush! I will put that in my report, depend on it. Your career is at an end now for nobody will employ you after this little fiasco."

Does this man realise he"s a prisoner?

Does this man realise he"s a prisoner?"Both our careers could be at an end, sir, if Bo Ailgaliutlo decides to kill us. He has already murdered half your crew."

"Nonsense! I am a Commander in the Honourable East India Company"s navy; he knows that if anything happens to me, the Company"s vengeance would be swift and terrible."

"Yes, sir, but nobody knows where we are, and Bo Ailgaliutlo has captured Serangipatam, so there is nobody to carry the news."

SerangipatamMarshall relapsed into silence.

"How long have we been here?" he asked later.

"They captured us two days ago, sir, maybe three," Jack said. "If we"re lucky, General Godwin might send an expedition to rescue us in a month or so."

That"s unlikely. We"re on our own. We must survive as best we can.

That"s unlikely. We"re on our own. We must survive as best we can.After a while, a fat Burmese waddled in with a mess of rice and fish and fed them, thrusting his fingers deep into Jack"s mouth.

Jack counted the passing of time by the visits of that man with the rice. There were periods of darkness and periods of light, and there was feeding time. Every so often a pair of burly Burmese would haul him outside into sunlight so bright it hurt his eyes and throw buckets of water over him.

"Bath night." Jack tried to make a joke of it, although Marshall said nothing.

After the drenching, the guards took Jack back to his place in the hut and shackled him down. At first, he counted the days. When the monotony dragged on, he stopped; it didn"t matter what day it was as they were all the same.

After a space of time, the guards dragged Commander Marshall away from the hut. Jack never saw him again; he did not miss him; he preferred his own company. The routine continued. Jack found that it was quite pleasant to lie and allow his mind to drift. He thought about the dreams of his early life and the tortured pleasures of public school, the abortive ambitions of military glory and the concentration on his career that allowed no time for fun. Then he thought of Myat Lay Phyu.

She was not as young as he had first thought, but he found it hard to judge the age of these Burmese women. They were all wondrously slender. He thought of her serenity, that determined thrust of her chin and the slide of her longyi over her hips. A sound disturbed his daydream.

longyiWhat was that sound? It was like marching feet as if an army was on the move. Better think of Myat and…

The scratching was irritating. At first, Jack ignored it, but when it persisted, he looked over to the gloom of the far corner. "Go away," he whispered, "leave me in peace."

The scratching continued, growing louder.

"Ensign Windrush!" The voice was quiet but distinct.

"What?" Jack tried to cudgel sense into his dazed brain. "Who"s there?" He was so used to the silence that he had to work out the meaning of the words. "What is it?"

"It"s me, sir." The voice was familiar, but Jack couldn"t remember from where. Weeks of solitary captivity had dazed his mind.

"Who is that?" He tried to twist around in his chains.

"Sergeant Wells, sir. I"ve come to free you."

"You"re dead," Jack said and giggled. "Am I dead as well? Are you taking me to the next place?"

"You"re not dead, sir." Wells" hard tones were painful after the silence of the hut. "Nor am I." He was unshaven and his hair was unkempt, but he still wore his uniform. He crawled across the floor with a knife in his hand. "How are these chains fastened, sir?" Wells examined them briefly. "Oh, I see; it"s a simple catch. We"ll soon have you out of here."

"Most of the men are dead. Graham, Knight, Lacey have all gone. Myat and Ranveer too, I think." Jack found the words tumbled out of him.

"Myat is alive, sir." Wells worked on Jack"s chains. "This thing is rusted in the humidity. And Ranveer is here, too."

Myat is alive?

Myat is alive?"Commander Marshall"s dead." Wells swore as he struggled with the chains. "Beg pardon for the language, sir, but this rust is hard to shift. When were you last released, if I may ask?"

Jack shook his head. "I don"t know, sergeant. What day is it?"

"I don"t know sir. It"s the middle of November, I think."

"How about the men, sergeant? Have you freed them too?"

"No sir, they"re in a different place." Wells gave a little grunt as he freed the bolt on Jack"s ankle chain. "That"s it, sir. Can you move your legs?"

Not an inch.

Not an inch."Give me a minute." Jack knew his muscles were weak after many weeks immobile, but he desperately wanted out of the hut. He held forward his arms. "Can you get these manacles off too?"

"Yes, sir. Hold still." Wells freed the bolts and threw the manacles on the ground. "I"ll help you, sir."

Jack tried to stand, but although the wound in his left leg was healing, neither leg could bear his weight. "I"ll have to crawl."

Moving crab-wise across the ground, Jack followed Wells to a gap in the wall.

"Do you have him safe?" Myat crouched at the gap, her face as impassive as ever.

"Safe, but weak," Wells said. "Come along, sir."

Even the humid air of the stockade smelled sweet after the dense confines of the hut. Jack took a single deep breath and began to cough until a hard hand closed on his mouth.

"It is better to keep quiet, sahib until we are away from this place."

"Ranveer!" Jack couldn"t help his grin as he pushed the Sikh"s hand away. "I thought you were dead as well."

"If you can keep silent, Ensign Windrush, "we might get away from here alive." Myat shook her head in disapproval.

Only then did Jack notice the corpse on the ground. The Burmese sentry lay on his back with a single wound on the side of his neck. "Was that you, Sergeant Wells?"

"No sir: I got that one over there." Wells pointed to a second body at the back of the hut. "This one was Ranveer."

Jack looked around the stockade. "Where are all the Burmese? The place is nearly deserted."

"I"m not sure, sir. The place has been full of warriors all this time, but the last two days Bo Ailgaliutlo gathered them all in their boats and yesterday they paddled down the river. That"s how we could get you out. We"ve been watching the stockade since they captured you, but this was our first chance."

And this is the man I thought was conspiring against me.

And this is the man I thought was conspiring against me."Thank you, sergeant. I am more grateful than I can say." Jack tried to stand again, staggered and Ranveer grabbed him before he fell. "How are the rest of the men?"

"What"s left are in that hut there." Wells nodded to the large hut that stood in the centre of the stockade. "There are about a dozen guards, sir, a few too many for us to handle."

"We"re not leaving them behind," Jack said. "What weapons do we have?"

"My musket sir, Ranveer"s tulwar and whatever these two Burmese fellows carried."

tulwar"Bring their muskets and dhas over." The idea formed in his head even as he spoke. "They don"t know there are only two of you, and a woman and a weak-as-water officer. Let"s make them think there are more of us than there are."

Jack watched the sentries on the large hut for around quarter of an hour. As Wells had said, there were twelve of them, all armed with musket and dha.

"They don"t appear very vigilant," he said. "They gossip together and smoke their cigars."

"Why should they be vigilant?" Wells asked. "They"ve had the lads as prisoners for weeks without any difficulty. Our men are chained hand and foot and fed rice and water. They"re in no position to do anything."

"We have three muskets. How much ammunition do we have?"

"I have thirty rounds, sir and these fellows," Wells indicated the dead Burmese, "had a few rounds, some of stone balls, some lead."

"That will have to do. Myat, do you know how to load a musket?"

"Of course, I do, Ensign Windrush." Jack was sure there was mockery in Myat"s nod.

"Here is what we do. We will take a musket each and open fire on the sentries. With luck, we may hit some of them, but more likely we will merely alarm them. The object is to make them believe we are an entire relieving column, so shout like the devil." He saw Wells and Myat exchange glances.

The sentries were in two groups, one at each end of the hut, with one man occasionally slouching away on some errand of his own. The acrid smell of Burmese tobacco drifted across the compound.

"We will concentrate on one group," Jack decided. "That way we might scare half of them away and the remainder should be easier to manage." He pointed to the huddle of sentries who were closer. "Sergeant, you know your own weapon best, so you keep that while Ranveer and I will use the Burmese muskets. Myat, please load for me. My hands are not working very well."

Sheltering in the angle of Jack"s former prison, they aimed at the guards. The musket felt heavy and clumsy in Jack"s grasp, but he fought his weakness.

I have led my men to defeat and captivity. I must do something right.

I have led my men to defeat and captivity. I must do something right."On my command," Jack said softly. "Ready, present … fire!"

Two of the muskets cracked immediately; Jack"s hung fire for a second and then fired. One of the Burmese soldiers fell, yelling, and the others turned in surprise to see from where the attack came.

"Reload!" Jack handed his musket to Myat, "and shout out!"

"113th! To me, the 113th!" Well"s roar echoed around the stockade, joined by Jack"s much weaker croak.

Ranveer had a deep-throated roar: "Bole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal!"

"Bole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal!"Wells fired again, with Ranveer a few seconds later and Jack third. Another of the dacoits slid down, kicking and writhing. The others were raising their muskets or had run for cover. Jack aimed at the back of one of the running men and fired. The man yelled, grabbed at his leg and fell, to wriggle on the ground.

That"s for Lacey and Graham.

That"s for Lacey and Graham."Keep firing!" Jack ordered. He ducked as a Burmese ball thumped into the corner of the hut a few feet from his head. Wells shouted again and fired a third time.

"Watch your flanks!" Jack warned.

The second group of Burmese was coming around the side. They advanced at the run, some holding their muskets, others having drawn their dhas.

"Get that lot," Jack ordered. He grabbed the reloaded musket from Myat, aimed at the centre of the group and fired. His ball took the leading man square in the chest and threw him backwards, so he collided with the man immediately behind him. Both fell. The remaining four hesitated; two turned around, and two raised their dhas high, screamed a battle cry and rushed toward their attackers. Wells fired and missed, Ranveer fired and hit one of the retreating men, drew his tulwar and charged forward.

"Bole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal!"

"Bole So Nihal, Sat Sri Akal!""You crazy Sikh bastard!" Wells yelled, slotted home his bayonet and ran to help. Jack took one step, staggered and collapsed. He could only watch as Ranveer sliced the advancing Burmese across the stomach and then chopped at his head. The Burmese fell at once. Wells spitted one of the retreating men and followed on to disappear around the corner of the building.

"Be careful, Edmund!" Myat stood up sharply, her hand to her mouth.

Edmund? I hadn"t thought of Sergeant Wells being an Edmund – and how did Myat find out?

Edmund? I hadn"t thought of Sergeant Wells being an Edmund – and how did Myat find out?"Musket!" Jack held out his hand. "Wells can take care of himself, where is my musket?"

Myat"s eyes were wide as she looked at him, and then she seemed to remember what she was doing and hastily reloaded.

For a few moments, Jack heard Ranveer"s war cry alongside Wells" roars and the lighter voices of the dacoits. He took the musket from Myat as three Burmese exploded from cover with Wells and Ranveer behind them.

"I told you Wells would be fine," Jack said. He dragged himself to a kneeling position and aimed at the leading Burman. Waiting until the man was only twenty yards away, he targeted his stomach and pulled the trigger. The weapon jerked viciously in his hands, and the Burman staggered. Ranveer finished him off with a backhanded s***h across the ribs.

"Two got away." Wells threw a smart salute. "They ran before we could reach them."

"You could have got killed!" It was the first time Jack had seen Myat show any real emotion. She stalked up to Wells, shouting in a mixture of Burmese and English, and slapped him hard on the arm. "You could have died, Edmund Wells!"

Jack thought it best to look away as Wells shouted back at Myat, his English also mixed with a smattering of Burmese words. "You"re very concerned with the life of a British soldier."

Myat looked at him with eyes that retained vestigial anger. "Don"t you realise yet, Ensign Windrush? He is my husband!"

Oh, dear God in heaven! Jack stared at her. "Wells is your husband?" He tried to control the emotions that threatened to engulf him.

Oh, dear God in heaven!"Myat." Wells reached out a hand but paused when it was evident he was too late. Myat had said the words. He stiffened to attention. "Myat and I were married more than ten years ago, sir."

"Legally?" Jack asked.

"By Burmese custom, sir." Wells remained at attention.

A lot made sense now. That was why Wells elected to stay in India. A British soldier with a native wife would not find life easy in England. Myat would not be accepted by the convention-bound sergeant"s mess, while the other sergeant"s wives would have cold-shouldered her at the least.

"It was Myat who rescued you from Gandamak," Jack said.

"Yes, sir." Wells remained at attention.

"Was Myat the reason you transferred to the 113th when your first regiment returned home?" Jack noticed that Myat was standing shoulder-to to-shoulder with Wells, man and wife facing trouble together.

"That"s correct, sir." Wells remained at attention, even though Myat had linked her arm with his.

"Did your old commanding officer know of your marriage?" In some regiments, even non-commissioned officers had to seek the colonel"s permission before they married. It would be a very broad-minded colonel indeed to permit a soldier to marry a native woman.

"No, sir." Wells said.

Marrying without permission was an offence. Wells had made himself liable to the cat and a dishonourable discharge with the loss of his pension.

"Colonel Murphy may be more understanding, Sergeant," Jack said. "I would wait to see what his views may be before you approach him. I will ask him what he thinks of such matters and let you know."

Wells" salute would have graced any RSM in the Brigade of Guards. "Thank you, sir."

Another reflection chilled Jack. He remembered the thoughts that had occupied him when in captivity. He had considered a liaison with the wife of a ranker – that was one of the worst crimes imaginable for an officer. Was that his father"s passionate blood showing? He shook away the thought. He had more immediate concerns than an abortive romantic liaison.

"Now shall we get the other prisoners free?" Jack said. "Ranveer, could I borrow your arm, please?"

Jack said nothing as Myat came to him. She touched his shoulder lightly. "You had three battles to fight; against your country"s enemies, against your conscience and against yourself. You are winning the third."

Wells tore open the door of the prison hut. "Officer present! Stand to attention 113th!"

It was the smell that hit Jack first. It was the smell of men locked up for weeks in a confined space with no facilities and no sanitation. With Ranveer supporting him, he stood in the doorway.

"Lie still men; Sergeant Wells and Ranveer Singh will free you. We are leaving this place just as soon as we can."

There were not many left alive. Coleman, Thorpe, Armstrong and O"Neill crawled out of the hut, followed by five of the seamen. All the others had died of disease or neglect. Lieutenant Bertram was the only surviving naval officer, and he was yellow with fever.

"Feed these men up," Jack ordered, "We will stay in this stockade until we are fit to move."

Myat pressed her hands together and gave a deeper than usual nod to Jack. "The men stink, Ensign Windrush. They need to wash, and you also need some clothes to cover yourself." She ran her gaze down him from face to feet and back.

Jack had forgotten he wore only his shirt. He shifted uncomfortably as Myat smiled.

"Your men may be jealous." She handed over a strip of material. "A loincloth," she told him. "Would you like me to show you how to tie it in place?"

"No, thank you," Jack hurriedly covered himself. "I"m sure I can manage."

Myat wrinkled her nose. "Maybe you should manage a wash as well," she suggested.

"More important than washing," Jack turned the conversation around. "We need weapons." He raised his voice. "Sergeant Wells!"

"Sir!" Wells stiffened to attention, and Jack ignored the winks that he and Myat exchanged or the manner in which Myat also came to attention in unsmiling mockery.

"Scour the stockade for weapons, Sergeant. Muskets if you can find them, dhas if you can"t, or sharpened sticks if that"s what we can get. I want every man to have at least something to defend himself with if the Burmese return."

Myat looked away. "Oh, you won"t need weapons, ensign. One sniff of the stink here and any dacoit will avoid this stockade. That is if you don"t all die of disease before the dacoits come."

Wells couldn"t resist the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"And when you have searched for weapons, sergeant, organise a bathing party, could you?" Jack gave Myat a look that was meant to subdue her, but instead only resulted in a slight narrowing of her eyes as she fought to control her laughter. "Else this woman of yours will drive me to distraction."

"Yes, sir," Wells said. "She"s very good at that, sir if you don"t mind me saying."

I know, sergeant, I know.

I know, sergeant, I know.Walking without the support of Ranveer was painful. Jack forced himself to take one step, then another. He cut himself a staff and moved further, yard after yard until he felt confident in his ability to move independently. It was another two days before he took full control of the stockade.

"I want to get these men back to Rangoon."

Why am I saying so much to a ranker and a native translator? Because they saved my life, damn it!

Why am I saying so much to a ranker and a native translator? Because they saved my life, damn it!"Most of the men can hardly stand yet, Ensign Windrush," Myat pointed out.

"I"m quite aware of that," Jack said, "but Bo Ailgaliutlo"s men won"t be away forever, and when they come back, they"ll trap us like rats."

"Buddha says…" Myat began, but Jack interrupted her.

"Buddha can say what he likes. Buddha was never in command of a unit of weak men in enemy territory. We are getting out if they"re fit, or not."

Myat bowed her head in less-than-meek acquiescence.

"Sergeant, keep the sentries alert and force them back to fitness. I"m going to inspect this place."

The interior of the stockade was simple, with a scattering of huts of various sizes around an open space. The huts were untidy, with betel-stained mats on un-swept floors, rough-cut teak pillars rising to thatch that rustled with rats, vermin and nothing much else.

"What are you seeking, Ensign Windrush?" Myat watched him bang his heels on the floors and rap on the walls.

"Whatever I can find," Jack said.

"Bo Ailgaliutlo"s hut is apart from his men," Myat spoke quietly. "If you seek what he took from you."

"You seek the same things," Jack said.

"It is your responsibility to return them, not mine to take them." Myat was expressionless again.

Bo Ailgaliutlo"s hut was smaller and graced by more ornate décor, a splendid brass bed and, oddly, Jack thought, a portrait of a young Queen Victoria. Two uniform jackets hung from a beam. One had belonged to Commander Marshall, and the other was Jack"s. He slipped it on with relief.

Now I look like a soldier again.

Now I look like a soldier again.There was nothing valuable on display, so Jack prodded at the walls, seeking hidden cavities. He was about to give up when Ranveer entered the hut.

"Is the sahib searching for something?" Ranveer looked as solemn as a servant should, with eyes that gleamed.

"Yes, the sahib is. The sahib is searching for his property that Bo Ailgaliutlo stole," Jack didn"t hide his frustration.

"The two golden statues?" Trust Ranveer to know everything.

"That"s them," Jack said.

"Would the sahib like me to help?" Ranveer"s face was innocent.

"Damned right, the sahib would like you to help," Jack said.

Ranveer wasted no time. He removed the rush matting from the floor and stamped with the heel of his boot, worked his way from one side of the hut to the other and said, "Here, sahib. It is hollow here."

There was a slot in the planking, through which Ranveer slipped his fingers. When Ranveer pulled, a section of the floor lifted. Underneath were Jack"s Buddhas, a small bag of European coins and pieces of Oriental jewellery.

Is that the spoils of Bo Ailgaliutlo"s dacoitry, or a nest-egg for the future?

Is that the spoils of Bo Ailgaliutlo"s dacoitry, or a nest-egg for the future?Tossing the coins to Ranveer, Jack pocketed the Buddhas. Their weight was comforting.

Now I have hope again. Now I can buy my way to respectability.

"Right men," Jack addressed his assembled collection of soldiers and sailors in the maidan outside the huts. "We have to get back. Myat knows the area better than anybody here, and she tells me that we have a garrison on Pegu, a place for which we all have fond memories."

He waited for his words to sink in. The men looked tired, sick and worn. Some of them perked up a little at the mention of Pegu.

"We are marching to join that garrison. With luck, we will be there within a fortnight, and then it will be clean beds, decent food and safety."

It was only a short speech and not as inspiring as Commander Marshall"s. There was no cheering, only a stolid acceptance of their position as the men filed slowly away.

Jack watched them go.

"We are not marching to Pegu, Ensign Windrush." The voice was weak but determined. "I am taking charge here."