muskets.
'Lord, deliver us,' said the RSM, holding up his cane to halt the picket. 'What in the name of God have they got inside them?' He seized a canteen from the hand of one of the capering privates and sniffed it. 'Brandy!' He poured what little remained to the ground.
The Thirteenth's private objected very foully. Corporal Jones stepped forward and felled him with a butt stroke to the chest.
'Stand up, you men!' bellowed the RSM, jabbing his cane here and there. 'Officer present!'
They were too far gone. They neither knew nor cared about their delinquence. 'Right!' growled the RSM. 'If that's the way it is to be. Picket, fix bayonets!'
Hervey had a moment's doubt, but there seemed no alternative. More men were appearing with every minute, all in search of their 'dues'.
The RSM began pushing through the mob of redcoats, shouting orders, cursing, lashing out with his cane, while to his left and right a single file of bayonets marched ready to do the worst if anyone should resist with more than abuse. Hervey, and Corporal Wainwright with his sabre drawn, followed as best they could.
They reached the source of the intoxication for the cost of a mere three further men succumbing to the musket's butt. The point of the bayonet had only been threatened, and the RSM had still not drawn his sword. Hervey marvelled at the man's self-possession and resolve. By his reckoning there were the best part of three hundred soldiers about the streets in abject disorder, yet the RSM seemed no more perturbed than if he were stepping between two brawlers in a barrack room. 'Right, Corporal Jones, two men on the doors, then get inside and clear them out!'
'Sir!' shouted the corporal, turning to look at the picket. 'Morgan and Jones-Seven-seven – on the doors. The rest of you, inside with me!'
'Of all the things them Burmans took, sir, and they have to leave brandy behind!' said the RSM, rapping his hand again with the cane.
Hervey shook his head. 'I shouldn't be surprised if they left it for the purpose, sar'nt-major. It's halted more men than their muskets have.'
'That is true, sir. A European merchant, do you suppose?'
'Probably. He's doubtless taken to the jungle with the rest of them. I hope he had more sense than to try to guard his stock.'
It took fifteen minutes to secure the warehouse, and another thirty to have the comatose occupants carried out, the RSM pressing disappointed new arrivals to the task. Only then did officers and NCOs from the offending regiments begin arriving. It seemed that this was not the only brandy warehouse, though Hervey was past caring what had detained them. One of the lieutenants told him plaintively that liquor had gone about the ranks faster than he'd ever seen. Hervey could believe it. It was no excuse, but it happened when the taut discipline of going into action was suddenly let down, when NCOs, their eyes on other things for the moment, lost their firm grip of the ranks. It was no more than a horse let off the bit surprising its rider with a nap. Except here it was getting on for a whole battalion off the bit.
Hervey saw smoke rising above the rooftops beyond the warehouse. He thought the redcoats better left to their own, and set off instead with Corporal Wainwright to investigate the source.
They felt the heat even before they saw the flames. Hervey, now alarmed, began running to see what had taken hold. Almost every building he'd seen was made of wood, and the streets were so narrow there would be nothing to check the spread of the fire. A few sepoys were doing their ineffectual best, but there was yet no organized attempt.
'Shall I get the RSM again, sir?' asked Wainwright, seeing the sepoys willing but without means.
Hervey saw a havildar, and then a lieutenant. 'No, I think the native battalion will have to cope. Better return to General Campbell's headquarters and report. I'll warrant he'll have no notion how perilous things are in this part of the town.' It took a long time to reach headquarters. The streets and alleyways were a press of men, some fully under discipline, some imperfectly, some not at all. Smoke kept barring progress, and from time to time flames, for the fire was spreading aloft and others had been started as carelessly as the first. When Hervey finally arrived at his destination, the customs house close by the main gates, and begged leave to report, he found the general in a deal of agitation and his face the colour of his red side-whiskers.
'What in God's name is going on?' Campbell spluttered, staring at the smoke now filling the sky over the northern part of the city. 'What are the brigadiers about?' Hervey told him as much as he knew. The general looked fit to burst.
However, his staff colonel appeared with news that relief was at hand. 'Sir, I have just learned that Commodore Peto, seeing the fires, has ordered ashore as many of his and the other ships' men as possible to our assistance.'
Hervey allowed himself a smile at the thought of the choice words with which Peto would have given his opinion of affairs on land. But it was Peto through and through – as prompt to take action as any man in the service.
General Campbell turned to his colonel. 'Get me the brigadiers,' he rasped. 'By the sound of things we stand close to being burnt out, and the Burmans could put half the brigades to the sword if they'd a mind!' Not for the first time did Hervey find himself making unfavourable comparisons between the wooden world and the ranks of red. And he had no doubt that Peto was at this very moment doing likewise.
CHAPTER TWO
That evening
F
lowerdew poured two glasses of Madeira. He offered the silver tray first to Hervey and then to his captain before Peto dismissed him with his customary nod. 'Well, a damned sorry start to a campaign!' said the commodore when his steward had gone. 'Half the men ashore drunk and incapable of standing to their posts, and all the signs of a country as hostile as any other that's invaded.' 'Hardly half the men, Peto!' 'I grant you the native troops may be in good order, but I've a thousand hands and marines ashore doing others' duty. There'll be no relief for those in the guard boats tonight.'
'It's certainly dark enough for the Burmans to get alongside,' agreed Hervey. 'It's not the war boats that trouble me but fire boats. The tide's still running out. They could run them down all too easily, and it'll be the best part of tomorrow before we have the boom finished.' Hervey grimaced. There was no doubting the havoc that fire boats would wreak, for a topman could very nearly climb from ship to ship. cThe general's sent pickets for a mile upstream. They ought to be able to raise the alarm, at least.'
Peto took another sip of his Madeira. 'We must believe it. But I am already uneasy about what Campbell intends next. I assume the native provision will remain elusive but that he will march on Ava nevertheless. In which case how does he expect me to supply him, with both banks of the river in hostile hands? How may I risk a merchantman up or down without escorts? And I have not the ships.'
Hervey thought Peto uncommonly downcast. After all, here was the man who, but six or seven years ago, had sailed the frigate Nisus up the Godavari until there was nothing beneath her keel, and had then dismounted her guns and sent them in boats to the aid of his friend. 'You have the ships to force the river to Ava, though, have you not?'
'Four hundred miles, Hervey; four hundred! And I have but one steamer. Just imagine it.'
Hervey could. Memories of the Peninsula had not faded with the years. 'I don't suppose it would be any easier to stretch a line of communication here than the French found in Spain. And there, at least to begin with, the people supported them.'
Peto nodded. 'There should have been warning enough in what was learned these twenty years past in Holland. Folly to embark on an expedition in the hope of a country turning its coat.' cBut now we are come, I don't see that the general has any choice but to go to Ava.'
