execrable, but I have it on excellent authority that it is highly nutritious.”
Penrod peered at it suspiciously. It looked like green cheese. “What is it?”
“I understand that it is the curds of papyrus and reed weeds, made by my daughters. We eat a lot of it. In fact, since the official rations were reduced to one cup of dhurra corn a day, we eat little else.”
Penrod put a morsel cautiously into his mouth. “My compliments to your daughters. It is very palatable.” He tried to sound convincing.
“It’s not bad really. Try it with Worcester sauce or Gentleman’s Relish. You will soon grow accustomed to it. Now, shall we go and call upon General Gordon?”
General Gordon turned from the window through which he had been staring across the river at the enemy emplacements. He stared at Penrod with that disconcerting blue gaze as he saluted. “At ease, Captain. I believe you made the journey from Cairo in record time,” he said.
How did he know that? Penrod wondered, and then it was obvious. We have the boasting of the fearless Yakub to thank.
In silence General Gordon listened to his report and the messages he had brought from Sir Evelyn. When he had finished speaking, Gordon did not reply immediately. He paced up and down the long room, finally stopping to stare at the large-scale map of the Sudan that was spread on the table under the windows. The view from them was unrestricted: the glass panes had been blown out by shrapnel from the Dervish artillery across the river, but Gordon had taken no steps to fortify his headquarters or to protect his person. He seemed to be concerned only for the safety of the city and the well-being of its people.
“I suppose that we must be grateful to the Prime Minister for coming to the rescue of the populace, even though he is several months too late,” he remarked at last. Then he looked up at Penrod. “The only consolation for me is that now I have at least one British officer on my staff.”
At those words, Penrod felt the first chill breeze of unease blow down his spine. “My orders from General Stewart, sir, are to return to Wadi Haifa as soon as I have delivered my despatches to you. I am seconded to the new Camel Corps with orders to assist in guiding them across the loop of the Nile to the assault upon Metemma.”
Gordon thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. “If General Stewart has not yet left Wadi Haifa it will be months before he reaches Metemma. You will be more useful here than sitting at Wadi Haifa. Besides, there must be hundreds of other guides qualified to bring the Camel Corps across the loop. When the rescue column reaches Abu Hamed, I shall reconsider. But in the meantime I need you here.”
He said it with such finality that Penrod knew argument was futile. His dreams of action and glory were shattered. Instead of riding into the city at the head of his corps after fighting his way up from Metemma, he was now sentenced to the dreary monotony of the siege.
I must bide my time, and choose my moment, he decided, and did not let his expression betray his true feelings. “It will be an honour to serve under you, General, but I would appreciate having those orders in writing.”
“You shall have them,” Gordon promised, ‘but now I must bring you up to date with the situation here, and our immediate and most pressing problems. Take a seat, Ballantyne.”
Gordon spoke quickly, almost with agitation, flitting from subject to subject, chain-smoking cigarettes from a silver case. Slowly Penrod began to understand the enormous strain under which he had been working, and to gain an inkling of the terrible loneliness of this command. He sensed that before his arrival, there had been nobody Gordon could trust to share with him some of the burden. If Penrod was not an equal in rank, at least he was an officer of a first-line British regiment, and as such was worth a dhow full of Egyptian staff officers.
“You see, Ballantyne, I have here the responsibility and duty without full control. I am daily afflicted not only by the incompetence of the Egyptian officers but by their unconscionable behaviour and total lack of morality or sense of duty. They wilfully disobey orders, if they think they can escape the consequences, they neglect their duties and spend most of their time with their concubines. Unless I chivvy them they seldom bother to visit the front-line de fences I am aware that they conspire and intrigue with the Dervish in the hope that they may win advantage when the city falls, which they are convinced it will. They steal from their own men. The troops fall asleep at their posts, and in their turn steal from the populace. I suspect that large quantities of dhurra have been stolen from the granary. The women and children of the city spit at me and revile me in the streets when I am forced to reduce the rations yet again. We are down to a cupful of grain per person per day.” He lit another cigarette and the flame of the match fluttered in his cupped hands. He puffed rapidly, then smiled coldly at Penrod. “So you can imagine that your assistance will be welcome. That is especially true since you are so well acquainted with the layout of the city.”
“Of course you may rely on me, General.” Despite his cold, almost messianic gaze, Penrod wondered how close Gordon was to breaking point.
“I am going to delegate to you the following responsibilities at the outset. Until now Major al-Faroque has been in charge of the storage and distribution of food. His efforts have been at best pathetically inadequate. I suspect, though I cannot prove it, that he knows something of the missing grain. You will take over from him immediately. I want you to let me have an inventory of all the available supplies as soon as possible. Under the rule of martial law, you have the power of seizure. You may commandeer any stores you need. Any transgressions are to be treated with the utmost severity. You may flog or shoot looters and black-marketeers without reference to me. The troops and the populace must be forced to accept the unpleasant laws you will make them fully aware that the alternatives are even worse. Do you understand that?”
“Of course, General.”
“Do you know a Ryder Courtney?”
“Only in passing, sir.”
“He is a trader and merchant of this city. I was obliged to requisition a shipment of his dhurra. As a mercenary without an altruistic bone in his body, he resents it. He has his own compound within the city, and behaves as though he is independent of all authority. I want you to make the true position clear to him.”
“I understand, sir,” said Penrod, and thought sourly, So now I am no longer a Hussar but a policeman and quartermaster.
Gordon was watching his expression, and saw the reaction, but he went on unruffled: “Among other enterprises, he owns and operates a large river steamer. At present it is undergoing repairs in his workshop. Once it is serviceable again, it will be useful in future military operations and possible evacuation of our populace, should Stewart’s column fail to arrive in time. Courtney also has horses and camels, and much else that will be vital to us as the Dervish noose tightens around us.” Gordon stood up as a signal that the meeting was at an end. “Find out what he is up to, and what he knows of the missing dhurra, Ballantyne. Then report back to me.”
Penrod knew of Ryder Courtney’s reputation: David Benbrook had spoken of him and even Sir Evelyn Baring had taken note of him. It seemed that he was a resourceful and formidable character. If Penrod was to carry out Gordon’s orders he would gain nothing by marching up to the front gate of Courtney’s compound and announcing himself and his intentions. First, he thought, a little scouting expedition is called for.
He left the palace gardens by the river gate. It was unguarded, and he made a note of that. He moved swiftly along the waterfront, to prevent warning of his arrival being telegraphed ahead. At the first redoubt of the de fences the sentries were recumbent, resting weary limbs and eyes. Penrod had heard of Gordon’s swift justice, and he had no wish to precipitate a massacre and decimation of the Egyptian garrison, so he used cane and boot to remind them of their duty.
He went on along the line of fortifications and gun emplacements that had been erected since his last visit to the city. It was evident that these had been planned by General Gordon, for they had been laid out with a soldier’s eye and understanding of terrain. He inspected the field guns, and though he was no artilleryman, he picked out the deficiencies in care and handling of the weapons. The shortage of ammunition was painfully apparent. When he questioned them, the gunners told him they were not allowed independent fire but had to wait for orders from their officers before they were allowed to send a single shell across the river. The Dervish on the opposite bank were under no such limitation, and morning and evening they indulged in uninhibited barrages, which made up in enthusiasm for any lack of accuracy. Usually the middle of the day was calm and peaceful while both sides rested from the heat of the sun.
Penrod moved quickly past the harbour, where he noticed a white river steamer with most of her machinery stripped out and spread on the stone wharf for repair. Her hull and superstructure were peppered with shrapnel
