The Generals

Chapter 66

Arthur

Poona, August 1803

Arthur laid down his razor and began to rinse the remains of the soap from his face.When he had patted away the last drops he laid down his towel and stared into the mirror. At thirty-four years of age his body still had the trim athleticism of a man ten years younger. That was down to the hard exercise that he took every day, the same regimen he insisted on for his men. Even so it had taken many months to recover from his illness, and there was grey hair at his temples. He shook his head sadly at the toll India had taken on his body.To be fair, these lands had given him the chance to develop his ideas about the best methods for waging war. If he had remained in Europe, then he would never have had independent commands on the scale of the forces he had wielded in India.

His promotion to Major General had come through the previous year and now he was leading an army of nearly twenty-five thousand regular troops and sepoys. Some months earlier, as the British had anticipated, war had broken out between the Mahratta states and the Peshwa, Bajee Rao, had come to the Governor General begging aid to help restore him to power in Poona. Richard had made good use of the opportunity to draw up an advantageous treaty before authorising Arthur to take command of the army that would place Bajee Rao back on his throne. The Governor General had learned from his embarrassment over the affair with General Baird and had first offered the command to General Stuart. But Stuart had gracefully declined and stated that Arthur should be in command since he had equipped, organised and trained the finest army ever assembled in India. Those were the very words, Arthur recalled. His professionalism and ability had been recognised and there was no longer any grudging resentment, nor the muttered accusation of nepotism, to besmirch his reputation.

So he had led his army north from Mysore and entered Poona early in May, and returned Bajee Rao to his palace. Far from being a useful ally, Bajee Rao was detested by his people and his kingdom was destitute and disintegrating. Despite being restored to his throne by the English, the Peshwa had at once begun to plot with Scindia to oust his rescuers. Such was the man’s ineptitude in the arts of deceit that Arthur had come to hear of the plot almost at once and had remained in Poona to discourage Bajee Rao from any attempt to renege on his treaty with the Governor General. At the same time, attempts to negotiate treaties with Scindia and Holkar were proving difficult. Reports from Arthur’s network of agents had revealed that Scindia was trying to forge alliances with other Mahratta chiefs to wage war on the British. Meanwhile Holkar had declared war on the Nizam and had invaded the lands of Hyderabad, claiming that the Nizam owed him money. As a result Arthur had been obliged to divide his command and send Colonel Stevenson to protect Hyderabad with ten thousand soldiers.

Arthur had other problems. The men and horses he had brought with him from southern India were used to a diet of rice, yet the Mahrattas fed their beasts on jowarry - a coarse grain that was not suitable for the men in Arthur’s army. So his supply lines ran all the way back to Mysore. That was bad enough, but worse still was that many of the contractors had made off with much of his rice supply. That difficulty could be resolved by hiring new contractors, but in the meantime the army had advanced slowly from Poona to threaten Scindia’s fortress at Ahmadnagar.The monsoons had turned the tracks into glutinous mud that meant the army could progress no more than three miles a day. Arthur had left his men briefly to collect more bullocks and ensure that the situation in Poona was stable. The peace between France and England had changed the strategic situation in India overnight. Under the terms of the Treaty of Amiens the government in London had agreed to return Pondicherry to the French. Already a number of French soldiers had turned up in India, looking for employment under the local rajas and warlords. Hot on their heels had come a steady flow of French merchants eager to compete with the trade of the East India Company. Just when it seemed that the influence of France had been driven from the subcontinent, the French were back in play.

Arthur took a last glance at his image in the mirror. How much longer would his constitution hold out, he wondered? He had endured the strain of several years of campaigning in this unforgiving climate, and the odds against his returning home to England in good health were lengthening all the time. Besides, there was always the memory of Kitty at the back of his mind, and he yearned to return to her. The last letter he had received from her was some months ago. She said her heart was still his, and that she had successfully fended off the suitors her older brother had attempted to foist on her.That was small comfort to Arthur while he was on the far side of the world. He was familiar enough with Dublin society to know that the Viceroy would have a plentiful stock of dashing young staff officers to catch the eyes of the local dignitaries’ daughters, and that included Kitty.

‘Damn,’ he muttered in frustration and reached for his shirt, thrusting his head through the collar and hurriedly fastening the buttons. His servant had laid out the rest of his uniform on a chest beside the basin, and with a last moment to savour the cool loose fit of the shirt Arthur wearily began to dress. He made his way to the veranda of the residency where Barry Close had just sat down for breakfast. Even though Close had only recently been transferred from Mysore, he had made useful connections with the most powerful men in Poona.

‘Good morning, sir.’ Close nodded. ‘Dare say you had a better night’s sleep than you’ve had in a while, eh?’

‘More comfortable, at least.’ Arthur beckoned to one of Close’s stewards. ‘Lamb chops, if you please.’

The steward bowed. ‘Acha, sahib.’

Once the man was out of earshot Arthur lowered his voice. ‘Any further developments with the Peshwa?’

‘Only that he is as treacherous as ever. My informants at the palace say there is a regular exchange of messages with Scindia and Holkar. I had a word with him last night about it. I mentioned that it was somewhat unseemly for a man beholden to our side to be in communication with his former enemies.’

‘He didn’t deny it then?’

‘Of course he did, sir. But you know Bajee Rao - the man is a compulsively bad liar. He insists that any communication he has with the other side simply demands that they bow to his authority once more. He swore, by all his gods, that he remains a steadfast and loyal ally of Britain.’

‘It’s conceivable he might be telling the truth,’ Arthur mused wistfully.

‘Only to the same extent that porcine aviation is conceivable,’ replied Close.‘The Peshwa is a black-hearted knave, motivated at any moment by what he fears most.’

‘Well, yes. Quite.’ Arthur stared across the compound towards the main gate of Poona and the distant domes of the Peshwa’s palace, gleaming in the rays of the early morning sun. ‘Well, we must do what we can to discourage him from playing both sides. I think it’s time that you let him know that if there should be any more of this underhand opposition, I shall be obliged to take possession of the country solely in the name of the Company.’

Close stared at him.‘Would you carry that threat through, sir?’

‘I would. I am empowered to act in the name of the Governor General, and I will not shirk from doing anything necessary to bring peace and order to the Mahrattas.You must make sure that he is convinced of that.’

‘Well, I’ll do my best, sir.’

‘I’m sure you will. In the meantime, we’ll continue our efforts to remove Holkar from the Nizam’s territory and get him and Scindia to disband their armies and accept the authority of the Peshwa.’

‘That’s a tall order, sir.’

‘I understand that, but we hold Poona, we have the Peshwa and have set a precedent for decisive action when it is required.’ Arthur leaned forward and poured himself some tea. ‘If they’re sensible, then they’ll meet our demands sooner or later.’

‘And if they don’t?’

‘Then there will be war, and my army and I will hunt them down and destroy them.’

The resident ran a hand slowly over his thinning hair. ‘The latest reports say that Scindia has over forty thousand men, and eighty guns. And the Raja of Berar is marching to join him with another twenty-five thousand men and forty guns.’

‘I read the reports too, you know,’ Arthur said testily. ‘Our army is more than a match for them.’

‘I’m sure you are right, sir.’

The door to the kitchen opened as the steward returned with a platter of lamb chops and strode towards them. Arthur glanced at the man before addressing his final comment to Close on the matter.‘I am right, as I will prove to you, and the whole of India, before the year is out.’

As Arthur ate the conversation turned to more light-hearted matters and the news that the Peshwa was planning to hold a tiger hunt later in the month.Arthur was minded to attend, given the slow progress of negotiations with Scindia and Holkar, and they fell to discussing the merits of various firearms. As breakfast ended and Arthur dabbed his lips with a napkin, a small party of horsemen came trotting up the road leading towards the city gate. They were covered in dust from several days of hard riding and were only recognisable as Europeans by the cut of their clothes and uniforms. A squadron of dragoons and a handful of civilians. As they turned off the road and made towards the entrance of the compound Arthur and Close sat up and scrutinised them more closely.

‘Who the devil are they, d’you suppose?’ Close grumbled. ‘Bound to be the bearers of bad news.’

There was a brief silence before Arthur nodded. ‘You can count on it. The man riding alongside the troop commander is my brother Henry.’

‘So it is. By God, you have fine eyesight, sir.’

‘Not really.’ Arthur smiled. ‘Only a select few men in India have a nose like that.’

Henry left his escort as they entered the compound and continued towards the residency as the troopers dismounted from the exhausted horses and led them to the troughs by the line of tie rails beside the entrance. Arthur got up and descended from the veranda, waving a greeting to his brother.

‘Henry! What brings you here?’

‘Charming greeting, I must say.After such an arduous journey, and not having seen you for so long, I’d have expected something better.’ Henry reined in and slid down from the saddle. A servant darted out from the side of the house and took the reins as he stretched his back and rubbed his seat. He nodded to the servant. ‘Have him watered, fed and groomed.’

Arthur raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re not staying?’

‘Only long enough to brief you. Then I’ll carry your reply back to Richard.’

‘Brief me? Why, what’s happened?’

Henry gestured to the table where Close was still seated, and they exchanged a brief wave.‘Let me take some refreshment first. I swear I have half the dust of India lining my throat. We’ve ridden directly from Madras, only stopping to rest when the nags were on the verge of collapse. Not a pleasant experience.’

Arthur smiled at his brother’s affected insouciance before replying in kind. ‘I beg your pardon, how inhospitable of me. Do please be my guest.’ He gestured to the table and they climbed the steps to join Close. While Arthur ordered the steward to bring a jug of pressed juices, Henry beat some of the dust from his coat and eased himself into one of the cane chairs.

‘So.’ Arthur turned to him. ‘Tell me. What brings you here?’

‘It’s the French.You know that Richard has been holding off their claims for their colony at Pondicherry to be returned to them.’

‘I had heard about it.’

‘The situation has changed. A French frigate arrived to reclaim the colony on the fifteenth of June. Over two hundred men landed and took possession of the fort. They say that a powerful squadron of warships is sailing to join them, together with a general and a division of French soldiers.’

‘Most awkward. Who else knows about this?’

‘Richard sent me as soon as he found out, but you can be sure that word will have reached most of our Mahratta friends by now.’

‘Which means they will be making speedy efforts to contact the French and come to some arrangement to inconvenience our interests.’

‘To put it mildly.’ Henry leaned forward and his tone became serious. ‘We can’t delay the inevitable a moment longer. Richard wants you to move against Scindia at once. He’s already given orders to General Lake to advance into the land between Jumna and the Ganges. Everything turns on a decisive defeat of the Mahrattas. Then we can enforce British influence across the breadth of the subcontinent.’

‘You have to admire our brother’s ambition,’Arthur responded drily. ‘The situation is rather more complicated here in the field. My army is stuck in mud and my supplies are tenuous.’

‘Now is not the best time to start a new campaign,’ said Close.

‘There never is a best time,’ said Henry. ‘Anyway, those are his instructions.’

Arthur raised an eyebrow. ‘Instructions, or orders?’

‘Richard gave you his full authority to act in this matter. He has every confidence that you will make the right decision.’

‘I see,’ Arthur replied coldly. If the campaign failed, Richard would be absolved of blame. Of course, if it succeeded then he would claim the credit for his grand strategic vision. Besides that, Arthur sensed that his loyalty to his brother was being tested.The expansion of British interests in India had cost a fortune, and the government in London and the directors of the Company would be certain to call the Governor General to account in the near future. It would be natural for Richard to want to know how far he could depend on his brother’s support. Yet Arthur deeply resented the ploy.

He let out a weary breath. ‘Very well, tell him that I will destroy Scindia’s army.’

The monsoon rains continued to slow the army’s march as Arthur led his forces towards the fortress of Ahmadnagar. Mud sucked down the wheels of his guns and the drivers of the artillery trains whipped their bullocks on as soldiers, often knee deep in mud themselves, braced their shoulders against the spokes and strained to shove the guns and the limbers back on to firmer ground. Even that had its hazards as the rain, and lighter deposits of mud, made the ground slippery and the men had to avoid the slithering motions of the bullock-drawn vehicles while struggling to remain on their feet and trudge on towards Ahmadnagar.

As soon as Henry had left Poona to carry Arthur’s response back to Calcutta, a message was sent to Scindia declaring that he bore responsibility for the coming conflict thanks to his unwillingness to negotiate. Scindia’s reply blamed the British in turn, saying that their pre-conditions had made any meaningful negotiations impossible. Scindia’s message ended with a rallying cry for every native of the subcontinent to rise up and throw off the British yoke. It was a hollow ambition, since the inhabitants of lands already under British rule realised they had more to lose than to gain by rebelling. But Arthur knew that the real audience of Scindia’s call to arms was the French. If they could supply enough advisers and arms, then the Mahratta armies might yet overthrow the British.

Four days’ march brought the British army to Scindia’s fortress at Ahmadnagar. Arthur, and a small escort, rode ahead to examine the enemy’s defences. At first light that morning the rain had finally stopped. By the time they found a small hill close enough to give a good view of the walls the sky had cleared and the rising sun was quickly warming the lush landscape, causing steam to rise up in a faint haze. Before them lay the pettah - a small walled town - and to one side the fortress itself. Ahmadnagar was circular with massive walls of solid stone with formidable-looking towers at regular intervals. A deep ditch, filled with water, surrounded the fortifications. Arthur flicked back his drenched cape and reached for his telescope. Around him, the staff officers followed suit as the escorting dragoons allowed their mounts to wander a short distance off to graze.

‘The scouts say that between the pettah and the fortress there is a garrison of a thousand Mahratta troops, and another thousand Arab mercenaries, under the command of French officers,’Arthur commented as he scanned the walls of the pettah closely. ‘Looks like the usual combination of brick, mud and masonry surrounding the town.’ He squinted as he focused on a party of enemy soldiers watching them from one of the towers. ‘About twenty feet high, I should say.’

‘The town walls should be breached easily enough, sir,’ commented Captain Fitzroy. ‘Once we get the heavy guns out of that damned mud.’

‘We’re not going to lay siege to it,’ Arthur replied.‘There’s not enough time for that.We’ll take the town by direct assault, before we turn our attention to the fortress. The key thing is not to let the soldiers garrisoning the pettah escape to the fortress.’

Fitzroy examined the walls of the latter for a moment. ‘That’s going to be a tough nut to crack. The heaviest guns we have are twelve-pounders. It’ll take weeks before we can batter a hole in those walls. We could always bypass Ahmadnagar, sir.’

‘No. I need a forward supply base, and somewhere to fall back on if the campaign goes against us. So we must take the place. There’s no avoiding it. But don’t be too daunted by those walls. They look old and weathered to me. I doubt they’ll stand up to much. Our twelve-pounders will be perfectly adequate for the job.’

He collapsed his telescope and pushed it back into its saddle holster before turning to Fitzroy.

‘Return to the column at once. I’ll use three battalions for the attack, the 74th, the 78th, and a battalion of the Company’s natives. Have them assemble assault ladders and bring up one of the guns to blow the gates open.’

‘Very good, sir. What time shall I give them for the attack to begin?’

‘What time?’ Arthur paused to stretch his back muscles. ‘Why, we shall attack the place at once.’