Chapter 3-1
2022 Words
Ten years. Jack leaned on the rail of the Peninsula and Oriental liner Ripon and watched the harbour lights of Southampton fade into the bleak distance. The homesickness increased as nausea rose in his throat. The authorities had told him the 113th would be in India for at least ten years. He would not see England again until he was thirty years old; if he survived. The steady chunk of Ripon"s paddles only increased his depression.
"Cholera, fever, loneliness, a hundred different types of diseases they have not even identified yet." The educated tones drawled out the words in between long pulls at his cheroot. "You are going all the way out East, are you not?" His eyes were fringed with lashes as long as any girls.
"I am," Jack agreed. He didn"t feel like talking.
His companion did. "I thought so; you have the look of a man who is saying goodbye to England for a long time." He took another pull at his cheroot. "It can"t be long enough in my case." He tossed the cheroot over the rail and watched it spiral down until the dark water extinguished it.
He wants me to ask why.
He wants me to ask why.Jack said nothing. The lights of Southampton were a dim glimmer through the haze.
"Do you know India?" The man lit a second cheroot.
"I was born there," Jack said unguardedly.
The man raised a weary eyebrow. "Oh, an Anglo-Indian are you?"
"No – military." Jack resented the implication that he was from one of the civilian families who made their careers in India.
"Military background? I didn"t see you at Addiscombe." The dark brown eyes were as innocent as Eve"s serpent.
Addiscombe. That"s the training school for the army of the Honourable East India Company; he is a John Company officer.
Addiscombe. That"s the training school for the army of the Honourable East India Company; he is a John Company officer."I wasn"t there," Jack said.
"You"re in a Queen"s regiment then; which one?" The questions were relentless as the officer probed deeper into Jack"s situation.
Jack nearly gagged as he spoke the name. "113th Foot." He couldn"t hide the bitterness as he added, "The Baby Butchers."
The officer gave a little smile. "I am George Lindsay, soon to be of the Madras Fusiliers." He held out his hand. "What name did fate bless you with?"
Jack took the hand. "I am Jack Windrush."
Lindsay leaned slightly closer. "Windrush – now there"s a famous name. You"re not related to the Windrushes, are you? The famous Fighting Will of the Royal Malverns?"
Jack instantly denied any family connection. "Only by name."
"I thought not. If you were, you"d be going into the Royals and not the 113th ."
"Exactly so," Jack nodded. "But I am only going into the 113th." He thought he saw smug contempt flick across Lindsay"s face. "You"ll be spending your entire John Company career in India then?" Jack shook his head slowly. "I"ve heard there is plenty of money to be made if you survive." He stepped back from the rail; the lights of England had disappeared behind a wall of mist, and his past must vanish as completely. "Now, I must get ready for my career serving the Queen. You fight for the profits of fat merchants; I fight for my country."
And to get my name and honour back, but that is none of your damned business.
And to get my name and honour back, but that is none of your damned business."In the 113th, old man, you only fight children and civilians." Lindsay appeared unruffled. "Your regiment has an unfortunate tendency to run away from real soldiers; especially Indian ones." He waved his cigar in the air, winked and sauntered away.
He"s right, damn him!
He"s right, damn him!Jack opened his mouth to argue, decided he couldn"t and stomped to the deck below. He shared his cabin with two other young India-bound officers, both of whom talked of nothing but glory and women.
"I"ve fixed my eye on that brunette looker," Ensign Rands announced, "she"s the gal for me."
"Oh my word,." Cornet Simpson"s affected drawl did nothing to hide the acne that disfigured his face. "She"s a delicate piece and makes the most of it, don"t you know?" He yawned openly. "My preference is for that lively blonde. She"ll be a Cheapside bargain." He looked at Jack. "How about you, Windrush old man?"
"Women are a distraction," Jack said and sought solitude on a ship where that was a scarce commodity. When promenading passengers crowded the upper deck, Jack found a small space in the darkness of the cable store, lit the stub of a candle and studied his profession.
When the weather turned wild in the Bay of Biscay, the upper deck was remarkably clear, so Jack positioned himself beside the upside-down launch and began to study military manuals. "Courage, above all things, is the first quality of a warrior," he read as the spray spattered around him. He lowered Clausewitz"s On War when he heard a familiar laugh.
On WarEnsign Lindsay and Cornet Simpson faced toward him as they spoke animatedly to a tall woman in a blue boat-cloak. As Jack watched, the women laughed again and turned her head, allowing him to see her face.
Good God, what are you doing here?
Good God, what are you doing here?Lucinda Harcourt looked directly at him. "Is that Ensign Windrush?" She raised a white-gloved hand in salutation. "Won"t you join us?"
"Do you know that bookish fellow?" Lindsay asked. "I"m afraid he much prefers his own company to that of ours." He slipped a hand through the crook of Lucinda"s arm. "I do believe he doesn"t care for ladies, either."
Jack opened his mouth to retaliate but closed it again. Clausewitz says: "If the leader is filled with high ambition and if he pursues his aims with audacity and strength of will, he will reach them in spite of all obstacles." Lucinda is merely another obstacle to my aim. I will not weaken at the first hurdle.
Clausewitz says: "If the leader is filled with high ambition and if he pursues his aims with audacity and strength of will, he will reach them in spite of all obstacles." Lucinda is merely another obstacle to my aim. I will not weaken at the first hurdle."Oh!" Lucinda gave him a look of astonishment. "I see. Well, Ensign Windrush, we will leave you to your own devices on this occasion, but your future company would please me very much."
"Oh, leave him, Lucinda, he"s a queer fish." Simpson dismissed Jack with a sneer. Lucinda awarded Jack with a small smile and waved her hand at him behind her back as she promenaded along the canting deck with her companions.
Clausewitz welcomed Jack back.
"Are you joining us for a hand of whist, Windrush? Lucinda and Harriet will be there." That was a daily invitation in spells of clear weather, and Jack gave a reply that gave rise to much amusement and not a little contempt.
"I have too much to do; you carry on."
"Oh, he certainly doesn"t like the company of ladies," Lindsay said.
When they called at Gibraltar to re-coal, Jack accompanied Lindsay and the others for a tour of the fortifications, asked many questions and took notes of the answers. He nearly missed the ship as the Grand Harbour fortifications in Malta engrossed him, ignored a squall as they neared Egypt and stood aside while his peers rushed ashore in Alexandria to test out their theories about the delights and souks of Egypt.
"Do come along Ensign Lindsay. I have heard so much about these romantic Oriental bazaars, and I need a chaperone, father says."
As Lindsay tipped his straw hat and rushed to obey Lucinda, Jack hefted his single trunk over his shoulder and negotiated the gangplank.
"Is he a pederast I wonder?" Simpson asked in a shocked whisper.
"I imagine that might be the case," Lindsay replied.
A pederast! Jack shuddered. One hint of homosexuality will blight my career and ruin my reputation for all time. Whatever courageous acts I perform, however good a soldier I am, will not matter if they think I am guilty of that most unspeakable of all sins. I must try to talk to Lucinda, at least. There will be an opportunity when we travel along the canal.
A pederast!One hint of homosexuality will blight my career and ruin my reputation for all time. Whatever courageous acts I perform, however good a soldier I am, will not matter if they think I am guilty of that most unspeakable of all sins. I must try to talk to Lucinda, at least. There will be an opportunity when we travel along the canal.Jack followed the others into an open boat that someone may have cleaned in the previous year. He watched clamorous boatmen attaching the tow, wiped sweat from his forehead and mustered a smile for Lucinda and dragged his brain for something to say. "Did you have success at the bazaar, Miss Harcourt?"
"We bought the most wonderful things!" Lucinda sat close. Jack flinched at the touch of her hand on his arm. "A carving of a sphinx that is three thousand years old." She displayed her treasure for Jack"s education.
It was rough sandstone, crudely carved. "Are you sure this is genuine?" Jack held it up.
"Of course, I"m sure!" Lucinda snatched it back at once. Hot eyes replaced her incipient smile.
"Of course, Lucinda is sure," Lindsay echoed. "You ignore him, Lucy; he"s not worth your time." He put an arm around her as the tow began with a jerk.
"I meant no offence, Lucy," Jack said.
"My name is Lucinda." She silenced him with a look that would have caused the Biblical plagues to flee from Egypt.
The ten-hour journey up the Mahmoudieh Canal to Aftieh would have been uncomfortable enough with just the hot sun and rough benches to contend with, but Lucinda"s turned shoulder and Lindsay"s barbed comments made things infinitely worse. Jack barely noted the fellaheen working on the canal bank or the long strings of camels that patiently plodded past.
When they reached Aftieh, Lindsay helped Lucinda up to the quay and guided her on to the slightly scruffy steamer that took them to Cairo. Jack huddled in the lee of the paddle-box and looked miserably at the beautiful feluccas that sailed the Nile waters as they had for centuries.
"I"ll be grilled long before we even get to India," Rands complained as he looked at the carriage that was to draw them across the desert from Cairo to Suez. Six mules stood patiently, waiting for the eighteen-hour drag. Behind the rickety wagon, a score of Egyptian workers piled British baggage onto a string of lean camels.
"You"ll get used to the heat." Jack found himself enjoying the high temperatures. "I was born out East."
"That might explain rather a lot," Lindsay said as he fanned Lucinda.
"True English never get used to the heat." Lucinda raised her face to the draught of hot air. "Father told me that."
"Perhaps Windrush is only part-English," Simpson said. "He certainly has dark enough hair to pass for a native, and I have noticed he does not suffer in the heat as we do."
"Withdraw that!" Jack knew he couldn"t let such an insult pass.
"It was said in haste,." Lucinda shook her head. "Really, Jack, you must put a curb on that hot temper of yours!"
"His hot temper must come from a hot climate, eh Windrush?" Lindsay turned away, leaving Jack with nobody on whom to vent his frustration.
From Suez, it was another voyage on Oriental across the painted Indian Ocean to Madras. They disembarked at the dock, with the ensigns and cadets split up with handshaking and promises of eternal friendship. Jack watched Lindsay accept a folded note from Lucinda, took a deep breath and lifted his single trunk. He had neither need nor money for a porter.
- Writer
