All the officers above the rank of subalterns, twenty in number, were present. Clive himself, contrary to custom, gave his vote first in favour of halting at Katwa. Major Kilpatrick, who commanded the Company's troops, Major Grant of the 37th, and ten other officers voted the same way. Major Eyre Coote declared in favour of an immediate advance. He argued that the troops were in high spirits, and had hitherto been everywhere successful, and that a delay would allow Monsieur Law and his troops to arrive. He considered that, if they determined not to fight, they should fall back upon Calcutta. Charlie Marryat supported him, as did five other officers, all belonging to the Indian service. The decision taken, the council separated, and Clive strolled away to a grove, and sat down by himself. There he thought over, in his mind, the arguments which had been advanced by both sides. He saw the force of the arguments which had been adduced by Major Eyre Coote and Charlie Marryat; and his own experience showed him that the daring course is always the most prudent one, in fighting Asiatics. At last, he came to a conclusion. Rising, he returned to the camp; and, meeting Major Coote on the way, informed him that he had changed his mind, and would fight the next day. Charlie returned to his tent after the council broke up, disheartened at the result. He was greeted by Tim. "Shure, yer honor, Hossein is in despair. The water has filled up the holes, where he makes his fires, and the rain has soaked the wood. Yer dinner is not near cooked yet, and half the dishes are spoilt." "It does not matter a bit, Tim," Charlie said. "You know I'm not particular about my eating, though Hossein will always prepare a dinner fit for an alderman." "We are going to fight them tomorrow, yer honor, I hope," Tim said. "It's sick to death I am of wading about here in the wet, like a duck. It's as bare as the bogs of ould Ireland, without the blessings of the pigs and potatoes, to say nothing of the colleens." "No, Tim, I'm afraid we're going to stop where we are, for a bit. The council of war have decided not to fight." "Shure and that's bad news," Tim said. "The worst I've heard for many a day. What if there be fifty thousand of 'em, Mister Charles, haven't we bate 'em at long odds before, and can't we do it agin?" "I think we could, Tim," Charlie replied; "but the odds of fifty-three heavy cannon, which the spies say they've got, to our ten popguns, is serious. However, I'm sorry we're not going to fight, and I'm afraid that you must make up your mind to the wet, and Hossein his to giving me bad dinners for some weeks to come; that is to say, if the enemy don't turn us out of this." A few minutes later, Lieutenant Peters entered the tent. "Is it true, Charlie, that we are not going to fight, after all?" "True enough," Charlie said. "We are to wait till the rains are over."