In Clive's Command: A Story of the Fight for IndiaStrang, Herbert
History
In Clive's Command: A Story of the Fight for India
Strang, Herbert
Clive, Robert Clive, Baron, 1725-1774 -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
On arriving at Fulta, Desmond found that the European fugitives from
Calcutta were living for the most part on board the country ships in the
river, while the military were cantoned in huts ashore, on a plain
eastward of the town. The avenues leading to their camp were occupied by
Sepoys. Desmond lost no time in making his way to Major Killpatrick's hut
and presenting his credentials.
"Very glad to make your acquaintance," said the major heartily. "Oh yes,
I know all about you. Mr. Merriman has told me of the way you brought his
cargo through from Cossimbazar, and the plucky stand you made against
odds. By Jove, sir, 'twas an amazing good piece of work. You deserved a
commission if any youngster ever did, and I'm glad Mr. Clive has done the
right thing. Let me tell you, Mr. Clive don't make mistakes--in military
matters, that is to say. And Gheria, now: egad, sir, you must have a head
on your shoulders; and that en't flattery; we soldiers en't in the habit
of laying on the butter.
"You did well; and sure you'll be of the greatest use to us here. We need
a few men as are able to keep their heads in a warm place: and, begad, if
they'd such men in Bengal these last months we wouldn't be rotting here
in this fever-haunted place. Why, I've lost thirty-two officers and men
in less than a couple of months, and I'll be lucky if I've fifty fit for
service by the time Mr. Clive arrives. When may we expect him, sir?"
"He couldn't tell me, sir. The Madras Council can't make up their minds
who is to command the expedition, and they're waiting for ships from
home."
Major Killpatrick laughed.
"Why, I know how that will end. With Mr. Stringer Lawrence laid up there
is only one man fit to do this job, and that's Mr. Clive, and the sooner
the gentlemen on their office stools at Madras see that, the better in
the end for everybody.
"Now you're strong again, eh? Got rid of that touch of fever?"
"Yes, sir; I'm as well as ever."
"And want to be doing something, I'll be bound. Well, 'twill need some
thinking, what you've to do. We're badly served with news. We've got
spies, of course; but I don't set much store by native spies in this
country. We've information by the bushel, but when you come to sift it
out there's precious little of it you can trust. And the enemy has got
spies, too--hundreds of 'em. I'll bet my boots there's a regular system
of kasids for carrying news of us to Manik Chand and from him to the
Nawab. If the truth was known, I dare say that rascal knows how many
hairs I have on my bald crown under my wig--if that's any interest to
him.
"Well, I suppose you'll join Mr. Merriman on board one of the ships.
Better chance of escaping the fever there. I'll turn over a thing or two
I have in my mind and send for you when I've done turning."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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