A Call to Arms

At dinner, the conversation soon turned to King Bagyidaw. Emma had read her husband’s evening despatch before joining them. ‘The problem is, it seems to me that the king has some cause for exasperation,’ she began. ‘It is not many years since that we permitted hostile acts from Company territory.’

‘Hostile acts by those dispossessed of their own soil in Arakan,’ countered Somervile.

‘Hostile acts nevertheless, my dear. We cannot escape the consequences if we permit it.’

‘That much is true,’ he conceded, refastening a persistent button on his straining waistcoat. ‘But it was five years ago at least, and since then there has hardly been raiding on a great scale. Nothing, certainly, to threaten the crown. Indeed, we have almost recognized Bagyidaw’s suzerainty in Arakan. But he will demand that we surrender the Mughs, the Arakan refugees, and that Lord Hastings has made clear we could never do.’

‘I am surprised it has not come to a fight long since,’ said Hervey, glancing at Emma to know her opinion.

She raised her eyebrows as much as to say she agreed. The candles, though many and bright, still could not light her face fully, so thoroughly bronzed was it by the sun — more so than she would have permitted in Calcutta even. Not for the first time Hervey envied Somervile his fortune in the constant company of so intelligent and handsome a woman.

‘It almost did,’ said Somervile.

Hervey blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘I said it almost did. Eight years ago, the late Lord Minto, in his last year as governor-general, put a scheme to the Court of Directors in London to make a punitive war on the court of Ava. But that was hardly the best of times, and the government opposed it. I can’t but feel that it might have spared us loss of blood in the long run. And certainly a great deal of native blood — of one sort or another.’

‘You think it will come to a fight, Eyre?’

Somervile paused for a second or so. ‘There is a restlessness about Bagyidaw. He marched into Manipur last year because the rajah didn’t pay homage quickly enough, and I still believe he would have gone on into Cachar had we not sent a force there and taken the place under protection.’

‘That was Eyre’s doing, Matthew,’ explained Emma proudly. ‘He pressed Lord Hastings to it very forcefully, for the Governor-General was yet preoccupied with the Pindaree campaign.’

‘The trouble is,’ continued Somervile, ‘that such … preemption, shall we call it, if successful invariably brings questions as to its necessity in the first place. I made some enemies in Calcutta.’

‘Why was Cachar important to the Company?’

‘You mean besides the moral duty of standing by a neighbour?’

‘I stand rebuked. But who is my neighbour, in the Company’s terms?’

Somervile smiled. ‘You’re quite right. We cannot stand against each and every outrage. The truth is that, from Cachar, Bagyidaw would have been well placed to attack through the river plains into the Company’s territory. We would have stopped him, of course, but not before he’d had a fair run at Dacca probably.’

‘And was it really likely that he would have invaded?’

‘You of all men should know that capability often spawns ambition.’

There was no disputing it. Hervey nodded.

‘I’m not sure you’re answering my question about its coming to a fight, Eyre,’ protested Emma. ‘Isn’t this fish good, by the way?’

‘It is, my dear. And I was. What I intended saying was that I believe he will move against Assam first. And if he is successful there, Chittagong will appear so much like a salient in his empire that it will then come to a fight.’

‘That is a very ill appreciation, Eyre. I trust there will be a frigate to take us off at once!’

Somervile laid his forks together, and finished his glass of Chablis. ‘Truly, my dear, an excellent piece of fish. Shall I make a prediction? In two years, unless Assam seeks subsidiary status of the Company, the kingdom will be annexed. And then Bagyidaw will give the Company an ultimatum, which of course we shall decline, and will then attack Chittagong.’

‘Where he will be defeated,’ said Hervey.

‘Oh yes. But not at once. We shall have to move half the army of Bengal across the bay to evict him.’

‘What do you advocate, then?’

Somervile smiled thinly. ‘The Minto medicine. Unlike many, I do not rate the Burmans so highly when it comes to fighting. They can be brave, yes. But there’s more to it than that, as I don’t need to tell you. They’re so supremely arrogant that a blow at their vitals would stun them. They have a good general in Maha Bundula, that I grant you, though not a great one as his name suggests in Hindoostani. But Rangoon, their principal port, is vulnerable, and so is Ava, for it’s up a very sluggish river, albeit quite a long way up.’

Hervey was impressed, as ever, by the thought which Somervile had so evidently invested in his ‘eastern question’. Nothing the lieutenant-governor said was in itself remarkable, perhaps; rather was it his masterly uncoiling of the serpentine factors in the appreciation of native affairs. He immersed himself in language and manners, and then applied the universal impulses of human conduct — both base and noble — and saw what others did not. Of course, such men were not the easiest of associates in the councils of the Honourable East India Company.

‘Have you spoken with the military authorities of this?’ tried Hervey, uneasily.

Somervile was very temperate in his reply. ‘Sir Edward Paget profoundly disagrees with me. He believes we should fortify our borders and take no offensive action.’

Hervey took a deep breath. The commander-in-chief was a fighting general of the Peninsula. ‘What is his principal objection?’

‘That the country would kill an army without the Burmans needing to fire a shot.’

Hervey shuddered at the thought.

‘Shall we have our partridge now, Eyre?’ said Emma, thinking the conversation had reached as far as it should.

Hervey looked across at her. Somervile was indeed a fortunate man.

When they had finished the perfumed curds and candied sweets which the cook had laboured over for a good part of the day, Emma rose and said she would retire. ‘Good night, Matthew. Let us hope that Eyre will find the time soon so that we may ride to Manikpur.’ She stood on her toes and kissed her husband’s forehead. ‘Not too long, my dear.’ And she drew her fingers lightly down his arm, a gesture of intimacy which jerked deep at Hervey’s vitals.

They remained at table for perhaps a quarter of an hour after Emma had gone. Somervile declined more port, unusually, and changed subject three or four times, almost distractedly. At length he put down his glass, and stood. ‘Hervey, my dear fellow, you must excuse me. I have not the appetite for our usual diversions this evening. Stay, though. Take some more of this port. It’s a deuced fine vintage and there’s plenty laid down. And there are newspapers from Calcutta there, too,’ he said, gesturing towards the drawing room.

‘Do not trouble in the slightest, Somervile. It’s exceedingly good of you both to extend such frequent hospitality to me. Retire, do. My day’s been easy compared with the affairs you must address yourself to.’

‘Ay, perhaps. Well then, I’ll bid you good night. Until tomorrow evening.’ Somervile took his leave, brushing the crumbs from his waistcoat.

Hervey let the khitmagar pour him more port and then went to find the Calcutta papers. He saw half a dozen of the Journal on a sideboard, and settled himself into a low, comfortable armchair by an empty fireplace. He sipped appreciatively at his wine as he turned the pages of the most recent, a week old, but he could find nothing to detain him. He reached for another, and found the same. Perhaps there truly was nothing of moment — mere gossip only. But perhaps his attention was not to be had for the persistent image of Somervile going to Emma, his friend’s contentment the very reverse of his own agitation. He put down the paper and the glass. It was the comfort of the embrace he missed as much as anything. He got up. He could not decently remain there.

Next day he sent a note of thanks to the Somerviles, as he had on every occasion he had dined with them. But this time he also sent a note for the babu, in English, for it was not long and its content was straightforward.

Within the hour, a note came back saying that a boy would meet him at the Suhrawardi gate at three