Jack Windrush Collection - Books 5-8

Chapter 2-4

For a moment, Jack stared at his opponent across the intervening foliage, and then both moved together, scrabbling to load. Jack chose the rifle, the enemy lifting the jezzail and both concentrating on their weapon and oblivious to anything else. Jack knew that he was faster than most at loading, yet his wounded enemy was first and was aiming the jezzail while Jack lifted his Minié.

Both shots merged in a double c***k. Jack felt the tug on his right sleeve even as he saw the opponent stiffen and fall. He took a deep breath to still the hammer of his heart. That had been close. These black-turbaned musket men were expert. Now he should leave his perch before another targeted him. I"ve been lucky twice; if luck deserts me, I"ll be dead.

I"ve been lucky twice; if luck deserts me, I"ll be dead.Kicking the weapons to the ground, Jack swung over the edge of the platform and slithered down the tree, swearing as he hit half a dozen branches on his descent.

"Welcome back, sir," Whitelam said, "and keep your head down. The pandies are angry at you."

Jack agreed as a cannon fired from the fort, spraying grapeshot all around. Throwing himself to the ground, he rolled to the back of the tree and lay still as the enemy used him as a target. How old am I? Twenty-five? If I was a cat, I"d already have used up all my lives.

How old am I? Twenty-five? If I was a cat, I"d already have used up all my lives."We"ve to withdraw, sir," Elliot reported. "The general"s ordered in the artillery."

"Bloody General Walpole!" Jack heard one of the 42nd shouting. "He cannae organise a simple assault. Look at the dead – Walpole"s a murdering sot, so he is."

Others seemed to agree, to judge by the comments. With their unblemished record of victories now spoiled, the Highlanders were incensed, blaming Walpole for their defeat.

"The Sawnies are right," Thorpe said. "Walpole"s a murdering sot."

"Enough of that!" Jack shouted. "Get back to the camp and leave the moaning to others." Jack knew that he should nip any criticism of the higher command in the bud, for criticism led to disobedience and then mutiny, and this war started with mutinous soldiers. The 113th trudged back with their heads down and murder in their hearts, and as they withdrew, artillerymen pushed forward two eighteen-pounders and a pair of mortars.

"Leave it to the artillery." Jack looked at the dead and wounded that the abortive attack had cost. Ordinary soldiers always pay the price of a bad commander"s folly.

Ordinary soldiers always pay the price of a bad commander"s folly."People laugh at Sir Colin for his caution," Elliot said. "He"s a far better commander than Walpole or a hundred Walpole"s will ever be."

Jack didn"t respond directly. "Take command of the men."

"Where are you going, sir?"

"To look at those sharpshooters I killed," Jack said. "Do you remember Uda Devi, the woman the Highlanders shot outside Lucknow?"

"I do," Elliot said.

"She fought the same way, shooting from the top of a tree. I wonder if either of those snipers were women." Jack realised he was shaking. "I hope one was Jayanti. It was only good fortune that they didn"t kill me."

"Good luck, sir." Elliot handed over his hip flask.

Not caring if Elliot saw him trembling or not, Jack took a deep draft. The taste no longer mattered; he needed the alcohol to settle his nerves. "Thank you, Arthur. Get the men safely back." He returned to the jungle.

The eighteen-pounders began their bombardment, shaking the ground and pouring acrid smoke through the trees. There were no birdcalls now, and even the insects seemed subdued as Jack searched for the peepul where the first sniper had been. There were so many trees, and all looked so similar that it was ten minutes before he located the peepul and another five before he found the body. It lay a few yards from the foot of the peepul, face down and already furred by flies.

"Sorry, my brave enemy." Bending over the crumpled, bloody mess, Jack turned him on his face and pulled off the veil.

"Oh, dear God, I was right."

The face of a young woman stared sightlessly up at him. She was darker skinned than most indigenous people of the area, lithe and wiry. Jack guessed her to be around twenty years old.

"Why?" Jack asked, "why must a girl like you die?" He sighed. "Rest easy, warrior woman. You fought bravely for what you believed."

The second markswoman had fallen into a tangle of vegetation. Jack eventually saw a leg sticking up and cleared the undergrowth until he found the body. Kneeling down, Jack gently unrolled the veil that covered the lower face. Again, young features stared at him, twisted in death.

"Go with your God," Jack said, "or rather, your Gods." He unfolded the veil and replaced it over the woman"s face to protect her from the questing flies.

"So now we know," Elliot said when Jack passed on his information. "Colonel Hook was correct, and we"re on the right track."

"I wish we had some spies we could trust." Jack lit a cheroot. "General Walpole doesn"t seem to favour our normal information gathering techniques. We can"t plan anything based on two dead women."

"Could we not ask the trooper who escaped from Ruhya Fort?" Elliot asked. "He seems like a handy sort of fellow."

"I think he"s gone back to Hodson"s Horse." Jack was pleased that for once he knew more than Elliot did.

"That"s a shame." Elliot passed across his hip flask. "We must carry on blind then, and hope for a break."

"At least we know a little more." Jack sipped at the flask. "We know that female warriors are fighting for the rebels and the fact that they all dress the same indicates they"re in the same unit. I wish we knew how many of them we have to face."

Elliot retrieved his flask. "Could you imagine a whole army of Uda Devis? The women here are every bit as dedicated as the men."

Jack thought of his stepmother"s calculating years-long wait to unleash her vengeance on him. "That could be true for women in general. We place them on a glass pedestal, we call them weak and emotional, we claim they lack common sense, and we say we have to look after them." He shook his head. "Except for a couple of fleeting encounters in Hereford and on the boat to India back in "51, I had never spoken to a woman until I met Myat in Burma. I knew nothing of them."

Elliot grinned. "I know what you mean. Public schools aren"t the best preparation for mixing with women. Some of the officers I"ve met seem genuinely afraid of them." He laughed.

"You never talk about women," Jack said.

"I"ve got four sisters." Elliot sipped at his flask. "I know they are neither angels nor demons." He grinned. "Some days they are a mixture of both! Now your Mary—"

"She"s not my Mary," Jack denied at once.

my"Methinks you doth protest too much." Elliot"s grin returned. "Your Mary has more of the angel than the demon in her." His expression became serious. "Be careful there, Jack, my lad. While your old amour Helen may have enhanced your career, what with her being a colonel"s daughter and all, Mary will not, however delightful a woman she might be."

amour"We are not here to discuss Mary Lambert," Jack said.

"Of course not." Elliot switched the subject with ease. "Did you hear about poor Colonel Grey?"

"Colonel Grey? What about him?" Jack asked.

"He"s dead. Dysentery." Elliot grunted. "That"s another colonel the 113th has lost."

"This regiment is hard on colonels," Jack said. "We hardly get to know them and then they"re gone."

"That is so." Elliot shrugged. "Death is common out here."

"Too common," Jack said. "And it comes too young. That woman I shot was about twenty years old, and a Dalit, I think. That"s an untouchable, the lowest caste in India.

"I know what a Dalit is, Jack, damn it!" Elliot said.

"One in every six people in India is untouchable." Elliot shook his head. "I can understand why the Rajahs fight us. They want control over their lands again. I can also see the sepoys" point in mutinying if they believed that we were interfering with their religion. But I don"t understand why the untouchables fight. Every other caste despises them and condemns the untouchables to the lowest and most menial jobs. One would think they would welcome British help, and maybe wish us to end Hinduism and the caste system."

"One would think that," Jack agreed cautiously. "Religion is a strange thing."

Elliot sighed. "I once believed that the Indians liked us because we bring fair justice and some security. If even the untouchables don"t want us, perhaps I was wrong."

Jack nodded. "I thought that we belonged here. I was born here, after all. People always say that as India was never a single nation, there are no foreigners and we, the British, are viewed as just another caste by the Hindus." He shrugged. "Now, with this rebellion, I"m not sure."

"I don"t know anymore," Elliot said. "Then you think of our Indian allies, Gurkhas, Sikhs and the camp followers, and you remember the loyal sepoys of the Madras and Bombay Presidencies. These men fight beside us and share all the danger we face. If they ever combined against us, they would so vastly outnumber us that we couldn"t hope to stand against them."

"Let"s pray that doesn"t happen," Jack said.

They sat in silence for a moment as the heat built up and the regular batter of the eighteen-pounders reminded them that the battle for Fort Ruhya continued on the other side of the belt of jungle.

"I used to think that we had more morality than the native peoples," Jack said at last. "After we hanged hundreds or thousands of people on our rampages through the countryside, I"m not sure that we are superior."

Elliot grunted. "I wonder how things will be after this war." He looked sideways at Jack. "I don"t know if I should ask this again, Jack."

"Ask," Jack said. "We"ve been friends long enough."

"Mary," Elliot said. "And Jane. How do you feel about things?"

Jack took Elliot"s hip flask without asking and drank deeply. "If you ever send in your papers, Arthur, don"t consider a career in the diplomatic corps."

"Sorry, Jack."

"How do I feel about being a quarter Indian, my father having an affair with a Eurasian woman and my liking for another Eurasian?" Jack handed back the flask. "That"s a lot to ask in one sentence, Arthur."

"I know," Elliot said.

"I am glad to have friends who are still my friends despite my mixed blood," Jack admitted. "And that is not to say that I"m ashamed of my mother and her line."

"Jane was a fine woman," Elliot agreed, "a true Christian and one of the best."

Jack thrust an unlit cheroot into his mouth. He could talk to Elliot about such matters. There was nobody else on Earth, except perhaps Mary, in whom he would confide. "As soon as I arrived in India, I felt as if I belonged," he said. "That feeling hasn"t disappeared. The pandies, the massacres and the battles haven"t altered anything. Sometimes I hate the heat and the poverty, the flies and the disease, and other times I love the colour and the friendliness, the generosity and the beauty, but I never feel like a stranger here, as I did in Burma or the Crimea, or Malta even."

"I hate the place," Elliot admitted. "I hate the cruelty and the poverty and the heathen gods. I"m counting the days until I leave." He nursed his flask. "And now the big question, Jack. Again: what about Mary?"

"I wish I knew the answer to that," Jack decided to light his cheroot. His hand was still shaking. I don"t want to go into battle again.

I don"t want to go into battle again.