'Very well, General,' replied Colonel Macbean. There was no need of questions in this either, for the colonel saw it much like searching for the needle in the bottle of hay. 'And now the matter of supply.'
The general's voice did not falter, but Hervey thought he detected a note less assured. It beggared belief that within hours of the start of England's first war since Waterloo (as Campbell had grandly announced it to his officers in Calcutta), the regiments had been placed on half rations and sentries set to guard the water butts. In the decade since that battle had every hard-learned lesson been forgotten?
'Gentlemen, as I speak, the Royal Navy is taking in hand the unsatisfactory state of affairs in which we find ourselves. They shall provision the expedition direct from Bengal.'
There was much nodding of heads, and murmurs of 'Hear, hear'. Hervey smiled to himself. The navy would have to keep them alive in the old way. It were better, without doubt, that the extended 'exterior lines' were afloat rather than on land – even on a river whose banks were not free of the enemy – but he couldn't help wondering if it would end in the old way, like Walcheren and Corunna.
There followed detail that would much occupy the staff in the days to come, and then the general stood up again. 'I shall have a word in private with the brigadiers,' he said, laying the bayonet at rest on the table. 'For the remainder, you may dismiss to your duties… except for Captain Hervey, if you please.'
Major Seagrass eyed his deputy curiously. And well he might', thought Hervey, for he himself could not imagine why the general had singled him out. Poor Seagrass: he was not enjoying this expedition one bit, and now he was looking in distinctly poor spirits – an ague coming on, perhaps?
When the room was empty but for those bidden to stay, which also included the general's chief of staff, the quartermaster-general, Hervey stepped forward and stood at attention.
'Take a seat, Hervey,' said General Campbell, evidently finding the room rather too close and opening the collar of his jacket.
Hervey found himself admiring the tartan lining of the lapels, evidently the general's own, for it was well known that he had commanded an English regiment. There was no doubting it: Campbell had the crack. In battle, men followed officers like him. 'Captain Hervey?' 'General?' 'You appeared distracted.' 'My regrets, sir.'
The general frowned, but benignly. 'Gentlemen, Captain Hervey is the only man in the division to have any experience of fighting the Burmans. You may find his counsel of assistance, therefore.' Hervey stood up.
'No, no; sit at ease, Hervey. Give the brigadiers time to reflect. But in any case, you shall place yourself at their disposal as they contemplate their plans.'
'Very good. General.' He turned to the brigadiers. 'At your service, gentlemen.'
Neither McCreagh nor Macbean looked to him as though they would be eager to engage that experience.
'Is there anything you would say here and now?' asked the general.
Hervey wished he had a few minutes to marshal his thoughts. Before Waterloo, by a happy accident of the chase, he had found himself riding beside the Duke of Wellington, who had asked him what he thought Bonaparte's design would be. There had been no alternative but to answer at once and he had done so, to the duke's approbation. But that was with the carefree confidence of youth – and the assurance that the duke was merely sporting with him. 'Sir, my experience of the Burmans is very limited, and I am not sure what general principles may be drawn from it. I should say that they are not fighters as good as the Sirmooris or Rajpoots. They can be deadly enough when at close quarters, but I observed they were reluctant to close with us. I judge, however, that they would be ferocious adversaries in the way of the Spanish guerrilleros. And I know, by accounts I have a regard for, that they are most active in stockading and entrenching.'
'This much reluctance to close we have witnessed already, I should say,' said the general, looking at the brigadiers. They nodded.
Hervey nodded too. 'But I say again, sir, they have a reputation in developing an assault, akin to how we would go about a siege. They are prodigious builders of these stockades, and they dig holes in which their men conceal themselves very cunningly. They can advance upon a position very surely.'
'Is this how we shall find them in the jungle?' asked Colonel Macbean.
'I cannot say for certain, Colonel, but I would suppose that would be their practice. And if you should find them so, then it would indicate they are intent on fighting.' The nodding of heads said the logic was sound.
Hervey felt encouraged to develop his appreciation further. 'But I must add,' he began, and with a distinct note of caution, 'I believe the Burman may be in want above all of generalship. There is, perhaps, no telling how much better would their fighting men be if led well. And they do have one general, at least, of repute-' 'Maha Bundula,' said General Campbell.
Hervey nodded. It was the first time the general had given any intimation of prior knowledge. 'Just so, sir.'
'He is by all accounts in Assam,' said the quartermaster-general.
Hervey was encouraged. Here indeed was evidence that the expedition was not entirely blind to the significance of what the enemy might do. 'Then we must hope he is tempted here,' said Campbell, most emphatically. 'The defeat of their best general would indeed be the likeliest way to bring about a surrender.'
Hervey raised his eyebrows before he could stop himself. Why Campbell supposed he was the superior of Maha Bundula he could not imagine, especially with the evidence of the past two weeks before them. Yet he could still admire the gallant confidence. It might yet get them to Ava. But he greatly feared the cost. 'Is there anything else, Hervey?'
'No, sir. I shall try to recall those details which might be of help, and communicate them directly with the brigadiers.'
'Very well, gentlemen,' concluded the general, picking up the bayonet once more. 'Let's be about it. But make no mistake. We shall be sitting out the best part of the rainy season here, and it will be far from pleasant.' In his quarters, a well-made brick affair which had been the rice store of the myosa – the 'town-eater' – the official whose duty it was to extort the most revenue he could from the citizens of Rangoon, Hervey sat down to a breakfast of biscuit and coffee. At least here, though, he was free of the plague of mosquitoes. And plague they had become. He had bought a good quantity of oil of citronella in Calcutta, which he burned in the lamps on the table and by his bed, and no mosquito seemed inclined to linger. But he knew now he would have to calculate very carefully the rate at which he could use it. 'Far from pleasant,' the general had said. They were, to all intents and purposes, besieged in Rangoon, if not exactly by the Burmans – yet – then certainly by the monsoon. How long would it be before the siege was lifted, or they themselves broke it? The rains would continue until the end of September, and during that time there would be nothing to stop Burman reinforcements coming south by river. Meanwhile, the sick rate in Rangoon – even once the Royal Navy had begun provisioning them – would rise, for the air would soon be corrupted by swamp and stagnant water.
He had written at length to Eyre Somervile the evening before, and now he would have to write a postscript. He calculated that operations could not begin in earnest before October at the earliest, for until they were able to clear the forts the flotilla could not navigate the Irawadi. And so the Burmans would attack first, being in the position of greater strength. The only thing Campbell could do was keep making spoiling attacks to disrupt the preparations. But they would be costly. Hervey was certain nothing would be decided before November. The citronella would be long used up, but by then it would be the least of his cares.
Corporal Wainwright came in. 'I'm sorry I could find nothing better than biscuit, sir,' he said, tucking his shako under his arm. 'I doubt even Johnson could find better,' said Hervey, frowning and motioning to the other chair. 'And he would not scruple to forage in the general's own kitchen!'
'I heard the Eighty-ninth had beef last night, sir.' 'Indeed?' 'A regular ox-roast I heard it was.'
Hervey was sure there had been no rescinding order. 'Corporal Wainwright, I cannot imagine the officers would allow-'
'All the officers were dining together – a regimental day, or something.' Hervey smiled. 'But not on beef.' 'I should imagine not, sir.'
'Mm. Well, if you have half a chance of buying any then take it. I'd be pleased to part with a fair few rupees for a plate of something other than maggoty biscuit.'
'Sir.' Wainwright tried not to smile; they had been under pain of the lash not so much as to lay hands on a beast up until now. 'The word is we're to go after them, by the way, sir – the Burmans.'
'And it is right, which is why you found me already about at reveille. I was copying orders for two hours.' He pushed away the remains of the biscuit porridge. 'The Madras brigade's to beat into the jungle to find where they have gone. The other brigade's to attack upstream and clear the stockades.'
Wainwright looked pleased. 'Do we go with them, sir?'
