eavesdropping on the crew, that you were apparently unaware of the true nature of the cargo—for of course the smugglers were not to know that you already had their secret, and spoke of you as a dupe, to be disposed of when you had served your purpose. She was pleased, she tells me, to discover that you were not one of the smugglers; in some ways she is a naive, affectionate girl, and seems to have formed an attachment to you.'
Whether this was accompanied by a leer, a frown, or nothing at all, I can't say—knowing Parkes, probably the last. I was in too much mental turmoil to notice—by God, the luck! For it fitted—my tale to Parkes corroborated exactly what she must have told him of the voyage. But if I'd given him the stowaway yarn … it didn't bear thinking about. I put it by, and listened to the brisk, impersonal voice.
'She is, as I said, a resourceful young woman. When the sloop was sighted, she determined to draw your attention to the cargo, in the hope that when you saw how you had been deceived, you might cause some disturbance, and hinder their escape—as indeed you did. Having no English but pigeon, and doubting her ability to make you understand Cantonese, she hit on the novel plan of persuading you to open a chest by pleading with you for opium.'
I sat quiet for a moment—and if you want to know what I was thinking, it wasn't what an almighty narrow shave I'd had, or of prayers of thanksgiving, or anything of that sort. No, I was asking myself when, if ever, I'd been so confoundedly fooled by two different women in the space of four days. Mrs Phoebe Carpenter and An-yat-heh, bless 'em. White or yellow, they were a hazardous breed in China, that was plain. Parkes, with the satisfied air of a rooster who has done crowing, was regarding me expectantly.
'Well, she's a brave girl,' says I. 'Smart, too. And you, sir, are to be congratulated on the efficiency of your secret service.' 'Oh, we get about,' says he.
'I'm sorry that rascal Foster—Ward, did you say?—got clear away.' I scowled, Flashy-like. 'I've a score to settle with that one.'
'Not in China, Sir Harry, if you please.' He was all commissioner again. 'He served you a scurvy trick, no doubt, but the less that is heard of this business the better. I shall require your word on that,' and he gave me his stiff-collar look. 'It has all been quite unofficial, you see. No British law has been broken. The gun-running offence took place within the Imperial Chinese Government's jurisdiction; we had no legal right to detain or hinder Ward and his fellows. But,' he gave another of his sour smiles, 'we do have the gunboats. And since Her Majesty's Government is strictly neutral as between the Imperials and the Taipings, it is certainly not in our interest that British citizens should be arming the rebels. A thought which prompted your own action, you remember. No.' He squared off his pencils in columns of threes. 'We must consider the incident happily—and in your case fortunately —concluded.'
That, of course, was the main thing. I was clear, by the grace of God and dear little An-yat-heh. There would be no inconvenient inquiries which might have led back to the conniving Mrs Carpenter—who, it occurred to me, might well be blackmailed to bed before I sailed for home. As for Ward, I'd not have gone near the dangerous brute; I gave Parkes my word with feigned reluctance.
'He may not be such a rascal, you know.' Parkes frowned, as though it irritated him to admit it. 'He has courage, and his devotion to the rebel cause, if misguided, may well be sincere. 'There are times when I would be glad to be rid of the Manchoos myself. But that is not our concern.' He sniffed. 'For the moment.'
Not my concern at any time, old lad, thinks I. Now that I was apparently out from under, I was in a fret to get away from this omniscient satrap while the going was good. So I shuffled, and began to thank him, bluff and manly, and hope that I hadn't been too great a nuisance, eh, to him and his gang of busybodies—when he stopped me with a knowing look, and pulled a Portent of Doom (a blue diplomatic packet, to you) from his desk.
'There is another matter, Sir Harry—one which I fancy you will consider an amend for your recent adventure.' Eyeing that packet, I suddenly doubted it. 'You recall that I said I was unaware of your presence in China, until yesterday? Listen, if you please.' He took a sheet from the packet. 'Yes, here we are … `it is thought that Colonel Flashman may be en route through China. In that event, you are to require him to proceed forthwith to Shanghai, and there place himself at the disposal of H.M. Minister and Superintendent of Trade.' '
I'd known that packet was damned bad news as soon as I saw it. What the hell did they want me for—and on the eve of my sailing for Home, too? Whatever it was, by God, they weren't coming between me and my well- earned idleness! I'd send in my papers first, I'd … Parkes was speaking, with that sharp, smug smile on his infernal face.
'I was at a loss to know how to comply, when the sloop brought you here so unexpectedly opportune. Indeed, we should thank Mr Ward—for had you remained in Hong Kong it is odds that you would have sailed for England before I had time to inquire for you there. Our Chinese despatches can be infernally slow …'
In other words, if that bitch Carpenter hadn't hocussed me up the Pearl with her lies, I'd have been safe and away. And now the Army had me again. Well, we'd see about that—but for the moment I must choke back my fury until I knew what was what.
'How extraordinary!' says I. 'Well, what a fortunate chance! What can it mean?'
'Why, they want you for the Pekin business to be sure!' cries the bloody know-all. 'The despatch is confidential, of course, but I think I may be forgiven if I tell you that Lord Elgin—whose Embassy to China will be made public shortly—has asked that you be attached to the intelligence staff. I think, too,' and he was positively jocular, rot his boots, 'that we may see the hand of Lord Palmerston here. My dear Sir Harry, allow me to congratulate you.'
At the beginning of this memoir I gave you my first Law of Economics; if I have one for Adversity it is that once your essentials are properly trapped in the mangle there's nothing for it but to holler with a good grace and wait until they roll you out again. Not that hollering does any good, but it relieves the feelings, and mine were in sore need of release after my interview with Parkes. I vented them in a two-day spree in Canton, taking out my evil temper on tarts and underlings, and sleeping off the effects on the mail-boat down to Hong Kong.
For there was nothing to be done, you see. After three years of truly dreadful service, in which I'd been half- killed, starved, hunted, stretched on a rack, almost eaten by crocodiles, assaulted with shot and sabre, part- strangled by Thugs, and damned near blown from a cannon (oh, and won glorious laurels, for what they were worth), I'd been on the very point of escaping to all that made life worth living—Elspeth, with her superb charms and splendid fortune; ease, comfort, admiration, and debauchery—and through my own folly I'd thrown it away. It was too bad; I ain't a religious man, but if I had been I swear I'd have turned atheist. But there it was, so I must take stock and consider.
There was no question of sending in my papers and going home, although it had passed through my mind. My future content rested too much on the enjoyment of my heroic reputation, which would have been dimmed, just a trifle, if I'd been seen to be shirking my duty. A lesser man could have done it, and naught said, but not Sir Harry Flashman, V.C., K.B. ; people would have talked, the Queen would have been astonished, Palmerston would have damned my eyes—and done me dirt, too. And when all was said, it wasn't liable to be much of a campaign; two or three months, perhaps, in which I'd be well clear of any danger that was going, boozing on the staff, frowning at maps, looking tired and interesting, and moving paper about with my hair becomingly ruffled—oh, I knew my intelligence work, never fear.
So I rolled down to Hong Kong, savouring the revenge I would take on La Belle Phoebe—and what d'you think? She and the gun-running Josiah had cleared out to Singapore, ostensibly to join some missionary society at short notice. A likely tale; give 'em three months and they'd be running the Tongs. But their sudden departure was hardly noticed in a new sensation—Sir Hope Grant had arrived with the advance guard of the fleet and army which was to go up-country, defend Old England's rights and honour, and teach the Chinks to sing 'Rule, Britannia'. From Pittan's Wharf you could see the little white lines of tents where the camp was being laid out on Kowloong, so I decided to tool over and let them see how dam' lucky they were going to be in their intelligence department.
There were advance parties from all the regiments; the first thing I saw was Sikh riders in the red puggarees of Fane's Horse and the blue of Probyn's, tent-pegging on the beach, with white troopers cheering 'em on—and to my astonishment they were Dragoon Guards. God help you if it rains, my lads, thinks I, for with twenty-one stone in each saddle you'll be up to your bellies in the paddy-mud in no time. It was first-rate mixed cavalry for all that; I watched a bearded, grey-coated sowar, eyes glaring, whip out a peg and wheel away to yells and cheering, and was glad I wasn't a Manchoo Tartar.
It was the infantry coats I wanted to see, though, for (and I'm a horse-soldier as says it) I know what matters. When the guns haven't come up, and your cavalry's checked by close country or tutti-putti, and you're waiting in the hot, dusty hush for the faint rumble of impi or harka over the skyline and know they're twenty to your
