that I began to get about again, and by that time the garrison was cheery with the news that Campbell was on his way. I limped about gamely at first, looking gaunt and noble, and asking 'Is the flag flying still?' and 'Is there anything I can do, sir? — I'm much better than I look, I assure you.' I was, too, but I took care to lean on my stick a good deal, and sit down, breathing hard. In fact, there wasn't much to do, except wait, and listen to the pandies sniping away — they didn't hit much.
In the last week, when we knew for certain that Camp-bell was only a few days away, with his Highlanders and naval guns and all, I was careless enough to look like a whole man again — it seemed safe enough now, for you must know that at Lucknow, unlike Cawnpore, we were defending a large area, and if one kept away from the outer works, which unemployed convalescents like me were entitled to do, one could promenade about the Residency gardens without peril. There were any number of large houses, half-ruined now, but still habitable, and we occupied them or camped out in the grounds — when I came out of my cellar I was sent to the bungalow, where Havelock was quartered with his staff people, but he packed me off to Outram's headquarters, in case I should be of some use there. Havelock himself was pretty done by this time, and not taking much part in the command; he spent most of his time in Gubbins's garden, reading some bilge by Macaulay — and was greatly intrigued to know that I'd met Lord Know-all and discussed his 'Lays' with the Queen; I had to tell Havelock all about that.
For the rest, I yarned a good deal with Vincent Eyre, who'd been in the Kabul retreat with me, and was now one of the many wounded in the garrison, or chaffed with the ladies in the old Residency garden, twitting them about their fashions — for after a six-month siege everyone was dressed any old how, with scraps and curtains and even towels run up into clothes. I was hailed everywhere, of course — jovial Flash, the hero on the mend — and quizzed about my adventures from Meerut to, Cawnpore. I never mind telling a modest tale, if the audience is pretty enough, so I did, and entertained them by imitating Makarram Khan, too, which attracted much notice and laughter. It was an idiot thing to do, as you'll see — it earned another man the V.C., and nearly won me a cut throat.
What happened was this. One morning, it must have been about November 9th or loth, there was a tremendous commotion over on the southern perimeter, where some-one in Anderson's Post claimed he had heard Campbell's pipers in the distance; there was huge excitement, with fellows and ladies and niggers and even children hastening through the ruined buildings, laughing and cheering — and then everything went deadly still as we stood to listen, and sure enough, above the occasional crack of firing, far, far away there was the faintest whisper on the breeze of a pig in torment, and someone sings out, 'The Campbells are coming, hurrah, hurrah!' and people were embracing and shaking hands and leaping in the air, laughing and crying all together, and a few dropping to their knees to pray, for now the siege was as good as over. So there was continued jubilation throughout the garrison, and Outram sniffed and grunted and chewed his cheroot and called a staff conference.
He had been smuggling out messages by native spies all through the siege, and now that the relief force was so close he wanted to send explicit directions to Campbell on the best route to take in fighting his way through the streets and gardens of Lucknow to the Residency. It was a great maze of a place, and our folk had had the deuce of a struggle getting in two months earlier, being cut up badly in the alleys. Outram wanted to be sure Campbell didn't have the same trouble, for he had a bare 5,000 men against 60,000 pandies, and if they strayed or were ambushed it might be the end of them — and consequently of us.
I didn't have much part in their deliberations, beyond helping Outram draft his message in the secret Greek code he employed, and making a desperate hash of it. One of the Sappers had the best route all plotted out, and while they talked about that I went into the big verandah room adjoining to rest from the noon heat, convalescent- like. I sprawled on the cot, with my boots off, and must have dozed off, for when I came to it was late afternoon, the murmur of many voices from beyond the chick screen had gone, and there were only two people talking. Outram was saying:
… it is a hare-brained risk, surely — a white man proposing to make his way disguised as a native through a city packed with hostiles! And if he's caught — and the message falls into their hands? What then, Napier?'
'True enough,' says Napier, 'but to get a guide out to Campbell — a guide who can point his way for him — is better than a thousand messages of direction. And Kavanaugh knows the streets like a bazaar-wallah.'
'No doubt he does,' mutters Outram, 'but he'll no more pass for a native than my aunt's parrot. What — he's more than six feet tall, flaming red hair, blue eyes, and talks poor Hindi with a Donegal accent! Kananji may not be able to guide Campbell, but at least we can be sure he'll get a message to him.'
'Kananji swears he won't go if Kavanaugh does. He's ready to go alone, but he says Kavanaugh's bound to be spotted.'
'There you are, then!' I could hear Outram muttering and puffing on a fresh cheroot. 'Confound it, Napier — he's a brave man … and I'll own that if he could reach Campbell his knowledge of the byways of Lucknow would be beyond price — but he's harder to disguise than … damme, than any man in this garrison.'
I listened with some interest to this. I knew Kavanaugh, a great freckled Irish bumpkin of a civilian who'd spent the siege playing tig with pandy besiegers in the tunnels beneath our defences — mad as a hatter. And now madder still, by the sound of it, if he proposed to try to get through the enemy lines to Campbell. I saw Outram's problem — Kavanaugh was the one man who'd be a reliable guide to Campbell, if only he could get to him. But it was Tattersall's to a tin can that the pandies would spot him, torture his message out of him, and be ready and waiting for Campbell when he advanced. Well, thank God I wasn't called on to decide …
… if he can disguise himself well enough to pass muster with me, he can go,' says Outram at last. 'But I wish to heaven Kananji would accompany him — I don't blame him for refusing, mind … but if only there were someone else who could go along — some cool hand who can pass as a native without question, to do the talking if they're challenged by the pandies — for if they are, and if Kavanaugh has to open that great Paddy mouth of his … stop, though! Of course, Napier — the very man! Why didn't it occur … '
I was off the cot and moving before Outram was half-way through his speech; I knew before he did himself whose name was going to pop into his mind as the ideal candidate for this latest lunacy. I paused only to scoop up my boots and was tip-toeing at speed for the verandah rail; a quick vault into the garden, and then let them try to find me before sunset if they could … but blast it, I hadn't gone five steps when the door was flung open, and there was Outram, pointing his cheroot, looking like Sam Grant after the first couple of drinks, crying:
'Flashman! That's our man, Napier! Can you think of a better?'
Of course, Napier couldn't — who could, with the famous Flashy on hand, ripe to be plucked and hurled into the bloody soup? It's damnable, the way they pick on a fellow — and all because of my swollen reputation for derring-do and breakneck gallantry. As usual, there was nothing I could do, except stand blinking innocently in my stocking-soles while Outram repeated all that I'd heard already, and pointed out that I was the very man to go along on this hideous escapade to hold the great Fenian idiot's hand for him. I heard him in mounting terror, concealed behind a stern and thoughtful aspect, and replied that, of course, I was at his disposal, but really, gentlemen, was it wise? Not that I cared about the risk (Jesus, the things I've had to say), but I earnestly doubted whether Kavanaugh could pass … my convalescent condition, of course, was a trifling matter … even so, one wouldn't want to fail through lack of strength … not when a native could be certain of getting through …
'There isn't a loyal sepoy in this garrison who can come near you for skill and shrewdness,' says Outram briskly, 'or who'd stand half the chance of seeing Kavanaugh safe. Weren't you playing your old Pathan role the other day for the ladies? As to the toll of your illness — I've a notion your strength will always match your spirit, whatever happens. This thing's your meat and drink, Flashman, and you know it — and you've been fairly itching to get into harness again. Eh?'
'I'll hazard a guess,' says Napier, smiling, 'that he's more concerned for Kavanaugh than for himself — isn't that so, Flashman?'
'Well, sir, since you've said it —'
'I know,' says Outram, frowning at his damned cheroot. 'Kavanaugh has a wife and family — but he has volunteered, you see, and he's the man for Campbell, not a doubt of it. It only remains to get him there.' And the brute simply gave me a sturdy look and shook my hand as though that were the thing settled.
Which of course it was. What could I do, without ruining my reputation? — although such was my fame by this time that if I'd thrown myself on the floor weeping with fright, they'd probably not have taken me seriously, but thought it was just one of my jokes in doubtful taste. Give a dog a bad name — by God, it doesn't stick half as hard as a good one.
So I spent the evening dyeing myself with soot and ghee, shuddering with apprehension and cursing my folly and ill luck. This, at the eleventh hour! I thought of having another shot at Napier, pleading my illness, but I didn't dare; he had a hard eye, and Outram's would be even worse if they suspected I was shirking. I near as a toucher
