The Gallant (37 page)

Dominic told her. “It would look odd if I didn’t. My coachman can drive you back to the hotel, and you can rely on his discretion. He’s well paid to keep his mouth shut. Or-was He gestured to a bundle on the seat beside her, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Kit, your own clothes are here. You could change and reappear as Lady Kitty Cadogan, if you had a mind to, and stand proudly at my side as I accept the cup.

That would scotch any suspicion, would it not? We could say you were representing your brother, who had urgent business elsewhere.”

But Kitty had borne enough. Close to tears, she shook her head. “Tell your coachman to drive me back to town,” she pleaded, and cut short Dominic’s effusive attempts to thank her. “I won your race for you, so don’t forget that bargain you offered.”

He looked crestfallen. “You mean I should withdraw my opposition to my father’s rival newspaper? Is that what you want?”

“No.” Kitty blinked back the tears, recovering her composure. “You said that the Chronicle

would commission Johnny Broome to find my brother Michael and write his story.

That’s

what I mean, Dominic!”

“It’s all you’ve ever wanted, isn’t it?”

Dominic accused with bitterness. “All you’ve ever wanted of me or anyone else-even John Broome.”

It was, Kitty thought. She inclined her head wordlessly, and Dominic stepped back, defeated, slamming the door of the carriage shut behind him. She heard him shout an order to the coachman.

The carriage moved off, and as the sound of the racegoers’ voices faded into silence, she stripped off the silks in which she had aped her brother and,, bracing herself against the rolling of the fast-moving vehicle, redonned her own garments and pinned her small, flowered bonnet back on her head.

When the coachman drew up outside the door of the Customs House Hotel, it was with perfect composure that Lady Kitty Cadogan emerged from the carriage, and, with a brief

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word of thanks-which the man accepted, woodenfaced-she entered the foyer, to find Patrick waiting for her with ill-concealed impatience.

“Thanks be to heaven that you’re here, Kit!” he greeted her. “Van Buren’s sent word that he wants to sail at first light and that you’re to go on board the

Dolphin

right away. I’ve seen to your baggage, and John’s taken it down to the wharf.” He eyed her, frowning.

“What in the world have you been doing, little sister?”

“It’s a long story, Pat,” Kitty evaded.

“But-was Recalling Dominic’s accusation, she smiled. “Helping in the search for

Michael, perhaps.”

Having fired the customary salute, the Galah

steered a careful course through the crowded roadstead and came to anchor in Singapore’s harbor.

The passage from Sydney had been uneventful, save for three days and nights of gale-force winds in the Java Sea, when the frigate had been reduced to a close-reefed main topsail and had lost a young seaman in a fall down the after hatchway at the height of the storm. Earlier, in the Sunda Strait, a sudden tropical thunderstorm of unusual violence had turned day into the blackest of nights, taxing Red Broome’s navigating skill to the limit. But, staunch vessel that she was, the Galah

had come through these not-unexpected perils undamaged and without the loss of a spar, and Red was well pleased with her performance and that of his ship’s company.

He had left Sydney with regret, when the survey ship

Herald

had arrived as his relief, bringing orders for him to proceed to Singapore to pick up troops destined to augment the military force engaged in the war with China. He was to convey them to Hong Kong, where the Galah

would join the flag of Rear Admiral Sir Michael Seymour.

It had been a wrench leaving Magdalen, so soon after the birth of their daughter, whose christening, in the names of Jessica Rachel, had had to be brought forward to the day before his departure, to enable him to attend.

… Red smothered a sigh. Mother and child had been pictures of health, but Magda

len,

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understandably, had been distressed and had hinted, for the first time since their marriage, that perhaps the time had come to bring to an end his naval career.

Red repeated his sigh and banished the unwelcome thought. The sea was his life, and for all Magdalen’s wistful hints, he could not imagine himself existing permanently ashore … and certainly not as a farmer, which had been one of his wife’s tentative suggestions. Besides, there were compensations to be considered; the war with China promised opportunities that were lacking in peacetime, and he had battled with the Chinese before, as a young officer serving under Henry Keppel in the frigate

Dido.

There was a rumor, Denham of the

Herald

had told him, that Keppel was on his way out to China in command of the fifty-gun

Raleigh

andwiththe rank of commodore. It would be more than good to see-aye, and fight with-his old chief again.

“Sir-was His first lieutenant and

brother-in-law, Francis De Lancey, broke into his thoughts. “There’s a boat putting off to us.

Looks like the governor’s barge, unless I’m much mistaken, sir.”

Surprised, Red turned his glass on the approaching boat. There was a civilian, in a white tropical suit and panama hat, seated in the sternsheets. A young man … too young to be the governor, but probably an aide or a

secretary, he decided, after a brief scrutiny.

“Be good enough to receive our visitor, Mr. De Lancey,” he instructed. “I’d better change, in case I’m required to call on His

Excellency right away. I’ll be in my cabin if I’m wanted.”

The visitor proved, as he had supposed, to be a civilian secretary, a friendly, good-looking young man, who gave his name as Mark Adamson. He accepted the offer of a glass of Madeira, and then-again as Red had anticipated-he voiced the governor’s desire to see the

Galah’s

commander at once.

“Fresh orders for you, I believe, sir, and rather urgent ones. So if you could come with me to Government House now, H.e. will be greatly obliged.”

There was a carriage waiting on the wharf when they landed, with a Chinese coachman on the box, and they drove up to what was known as the Hill at a spanking pace, passing the

pleasant residences of Singapore’s wealthy merchants, each with its well-kept, luxuriant garden and wide expanse of lawn. Government House stood at the summit of Flagstaff Hill; it was a rambling, commodious edifice, with a magnificent view of town and harbor, and uniformed Sikh sentries on guard outside.

The governor was waiting in his office, and Mark Adamson introduced Red to him. With him was the commanding officer of the 14th Regiment, Colonel Pooley, and both, Red saw, looked

grave-faced and worried, as if the news they were about to impart to him was anything but good.

“India, Commander Broome,” Governor Blundell announced grimly, “is in the grip of anarchy. Most of the native sepoy regiments of the Bengal Army have broken out in mutiny. In Meerut, after some disaffection concerned with a new issue of greased cartridges, all three sepoy regiments turned on the Europeans, cut down their officers, and murdered white women and children in what appears to have been an orgy of slaughter and arson.

The British regiments stationed there were heavily outnumbered, and-due, it is rumored, to the ineptitude of the general officer in command-the mutineers were permitted to march on Delhi. There they were joined by the native garrison, and similar ghastly scenes of carnage took place. The surviving British civil and military officers and their families were compelled to flee for their lives, leaving the mutineers in possession of both the city and the fort. It is understood that they have proclaimed the last of the Moghuls, the Shah Bahadur, as

emperor, and-was He glanced at Colonel Pooley and added somberly, “As may be imagined, Commander, British prestige in India has suffered disastrously, and the governor general, Lord Canning, has made an urgent appeal for troops to be sent to his aid.”

Red heard him with a sick sensation in the pit of his stomach, his first, panic thought of his sister Jenny, who, with her husband, William De Lancey, must by this time have reached the station in the recently annexed kingdom of Oudh, where William’s new command was garrisoned. What had been the name of the place? He frowned, trying to recollect the address Jenny had given him, written on a scrap of paper, which he had stowed with his personal journal in his cabin on board the

Ga

lah.

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Pirpur, Sitapur, Ranpur … it was something like that, an outstation some fifty or sixty miles from Lucknow, the capital of Oudh, William had said.

Pooley was enlarging on the military situation, talking with equal gravity of the British troops presently quartered throughout the Province of Bengal and in its capital city, Calcutta.

“India has been drained of white troops-they have had to be sent to China, to Burma and Persia, and to the Afghan border. There are barely forty thousand in the whole of India, Commander Broome, and about five thousand British officers serving with the East India Company’s native regiments.” He shook his head in a despairing gesture. “The sepoys in the three presidency armies-in Madras, Bengal, and Bombay-number in excess of three hundred thousand, with the bulk of the artillery in their hands. As yet it appears that only the Bengal Army has mutinied, which narrows the odds to a certain extent, provided the Madras and Bombay armies remain loyal. But you will understand, I am sure, the extreme urgency of the governor general’s request for more British troops.”

Red inclined his head, still conscious of his own fears on Jenny’s account. She had not wanted to go to India, he recalled, but she had gone, because Will De Lancey had expected it of her and because she loved him.

Lucknow was in Bengal, Will’s regiment a company regiment of Oudh Irregular Cavalry,

and-

“Lord Elgin, the new plenipotentiary to China, left here two days ago for Hong Kong on board Her Majesty’s ship

Shannon, his

the governor said. “Before leaving, he instructed me to hold troops bound for China, pending their redirection to Calcutta. The troopships Himalaya

and

Simoon,

with the Fifth and Ninetieth regiments on board, have already been so redirected. Only the troops you

were ordered to pick up here and convey to Hong Kong have proceeded to their original destination. Lord Elgin took them with him on board the

Shannon,

which, as I mentioned, left here two days ago.

However, before he departed, his lordship confided to me that he ultimately expected to go to Calcutta himself, in order to assess the situation in India and consult with the governor general. The news from China is good .

. . you probably have not heard that Commo dore

Elliot destroyed the Chinese fleet in Escape Creek, and Commodore Keppel, a very short while afterward, fought a brilliant action at Fatshan. Indeed-was

Colonel Pooley spoke up, a hint of

impatience in his voice. “Your Excellency will recall the reason why Commander Broome was summoned in such haste-the engineer detachment at present under my command, sir.”

“All, yes, the engineers,” the governor echoed.

“Eighty men of the Royal Engineers, to be exact, whose commanding officer is a railway expert, Colonel Pooley tells me. They too were en route to Hong Kong, but it seems to both of us, in view of the governor general’s appeal and Lord Elgin’s parting instructions, that there is a greater need for them in India than anywhere else. I understand that a rail link between Calcutta and Allahabad is in the process of construction-isn’t that so, Colonel?”

“I believe so, sir, yes,” Pooley confirmed.

“I am not sure whether the line has yet reached Allahabad, but to the best of my knowledge, it is the intention of the Indian government that it should. And these men, these Royal Engineers, would provide skilled help to that end, if they can be conveyed at once to Calcutta.”

“You want me to give them passage, sir?” Red questioned. “Aboard the

Galah?”

“Precisely,” the governor returned. “I shall take it on myself to change your orders, Commander.

Your ship, if she is required on the China station, can proceed to Hong Kong as soon as you have set the engineer detachment ashore in Calcutta.

Unfortunately there is no senior naval officer here at present, whose agreement I might have sought, so that I must act on my own authority in the matter. Er-I trust you will accept my authority?”

Red’s hesitation was brief. The change in his orders was admittedly unorthodox, but the governor’s argument was entirely convincing, and he signified his willingness to accept the change.

“Of course, Your Excellency. I can take on water and supplies and be ready to sail as soon as the engineer detachment is embarked. By noon tomorrow, sir, if the detachment is ready and my supplies can be made available at once.”

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“I will ensure that they are, Commander. And the men, Colonel?”

“They will be at the quayside tomorrow morning, sir,”

Pooley promised. “Their commanding officer is a young Scotsman —Captain Fergus Maclaren.

I’ll send him out to your ship this evening, Commander, if that is agreeable to you.”

“I will have him to dinner on board the Galah,”

Red offered. He prepared to take his leave, by no means ill pleased, in the circumstances, by his enforced change of destination. It was likely that, in Calcutta, he might obtain news of the situation in Oudh and of Jenny and her husband; of necessity, the governor’s information could not be up to date, and perhaps, God willing, by this time the mutiny in Bengal might already have been quelled.

The Meerut outbreak had clearly been serious enough, and the fact that Delhi had fallen to the rebellious sepoy regiments did not augur well, but … Red accepted the written order Governor Blundell offered him and came formally to attention.