Windrush: Cry Havelock (Jack Windrush Book 4) - Malcolm Archibald

Historical War Fiction Set In The Indian Mutiny

Windrush: Cry Havelock (Jack Windrush Book 4) by Malcolm Archibald

Book excerpt

Much overgrown and colonised by monkeys, the temple was in ruins, with massive buildings decorated with ornate carvings while a very welcome spring bubbled in the centre of what had once been a beautiful courtyard. Strange gods and goddesses peered down at these northern intruders through a tangle of invasive trees and creepers.

'Elliot; set up a defensive perimeter,' Jack ordered. 'I want three men at each corner and a picket of five men to patrol the area.'

'Yes, sir,' Elliot said.

'Once you've done that, report to me. You too, Prentice, Kent and Fairbairn. Leave the ensigns and NCOs in charge of the defences.' Jack gave a little bow to Jane and Mary. 'If you two ladies could join us, you would be very welcome.'

'Why them?' Fairbairn asked. 'They're women and civilians.'

'They were also in the cantonment when the sepoys mutinied,' Jack said. 'Their information could be valuable.'

'They're Eurasian,' Fairbairn said. 'Why are they still alive when we saw the white women killed? They might have sided with the mutineers.'

'They didn't,' Jack said softly, 'and I'll thank you not to question my orders again, Mr. Fairburn. Not if you know what's good for you.' He held Fairburn's gaze until the lieutenant looked away.

With the men busy digging trenches, making rifle-pits and clearing fields of fire in case of attack, Jack brought the officers and women into the courtyard and under the blank gaze of a prominent, many-armed Hindu deity, invited each to tell his story.

'The day after you left,' Elliot said, 'Colonel Jeffreys got notice of impending trouble. There was a mutiny at Meerut on the 10th you see.'

'The devil, you say!' Jack said. 'Meerut's a major cantonment!'

'Yes, sir. It's worse at Delhi. Three native regiments, the 38th, 54th and 74th Bengal Native Infantry, mutinied and grabbed the city. They proclaimed the old Moghul Emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar, as Emperor again and all sorts of rebels are flocking to the Peacock Throne.'

'Dear God.' Jack tried to digest this ugly piece of information.

'There's more, sir. The sepoys at Mean Meer were also grumbling and threatening mutiny. Their commanders had them disarmed and sent home.'

'Dear God in heaven. The whole Company army is revolting!' Jack took a deep breath. British power in India rested on the three Company's armies: Bengal, Madras and Bombay. The overwhelming majority of Company soldiers were Indian, with only a handful of European units supplemented by a few Royal or Queen's regiments. If the native regiments rebelled, then Company control in India was in serious jeopardy.

'Yes, sir. That is the fear.' Elliot stopped for a second to gather his thoughts. 'The reports were confused, and Colonel Jeffreys was concerned in case the Gondabad sepoys may emulate their cousins elsewhere.'

'He was right to be concerned,' Jack said.

'Yes, sir.' Elliot hesitated again. 'The mutineers are called pandies now, sir, after a sepoy of the 34th Native Infantry called Mangal Pandey. He attacked his adjutant on the parade ground in March, and was executed a few days later.'

'Pandies? A soft name for a mutineer,' Prentice said grimly.

'The men adopted it quickly,' Elliot said.

'I know about Pandey; the name doesn’t matter. Tell me more of what happened at Gondabad,' Jack said.

'The senior officers had a meeting, sir, and the colonels of the native infantry swore from Monday to Christmas that their men were loyal. They refused to have them disarmed. As there was only a single company of the 113th here, Colonel Jeffreys offered to send for another Queen's regiment to enforce any disarmament, but the Company colonels rejected any suggestion their men would mutiny.'

'Where are they now?' Jack asked. 'I saw Captain Irvine among the dead.'

Elliot shook his head. 'I don't know, sir. I presume they're all dead. The pandies killed Colonel Jeffreys.'

'I saw his body,' Jack said.

'With most of our regiment in Malta or penny-pocket sized garrisons up and down the country, sir, and Major Snodgrass away, you are now in command of the largest contingent of the 113th,' Prentice pointed out.

Jack blinked. While acutely aware he commanded Number Two Company, he had never considered his relative position. 'So be it,' he said quietly. At that moment, with the ordered world of British India turned upside down, it didn’t matter if he commanded a picket of the 113th or if he was Governor- General. He would do his duty and get his men to safety, and the devil help any murdering mutineer who got in his way.

'Carry on, Elliot.'

'When the Colonel sent the women and children away the sepoys must have guessed our suspicions.' Elliot reached inside his tunic for his silver hip-flask. 'They were restless, nothing more; there was no sign of mutiny. And then they seemed to go mad. They attacked everything and anybody to do with us or John Company.'

Jack remembered the warnings he had heard and passed on. 'It's hardly a coincidence that all these outbreaks occurred at the same time. This is more than just a local mutiny,' he said. 'We passed a deserted village yesterday.' Was that only yesterday? It feels like weeks ago.

'Do you think the whole country is in rebellion, sir?' Kent asked. 'Is this the end of Company rule in India?'

'No,' Jack said flatly. 'This is a few disgruntled sepoys.'

'There are hundreds involved,' Prentice reminded. 'Maybe thousands.'

'Most are followers,' Jack tried to find a silver lining. 'As in any riot or any mutiny, there will be a few malcontents stirring up trouble and a majority of followers too stupid or too lazy to think for themselves.' He thought back to the chaos in Gondabad. 'Did you notice any particular man among the mutineers, Elliot?'

'Nobody springs to mind. Some of the native officers tried to stop their men. The sepoys killed them.'

'How about the servants?' Jack asked.

'I didn't see many,' Elliot frowned. 'Only the colonel's pet Pathan.'

'Sarvur Khan.' Jack couldn’t stop himself blurting the name.

'That's the fellow,' Elliot said. 'Sarvur Khan. He was involved in the attack on the Colonel, I think; he was certainly in the mob that came from the colonel's bungalow.'

'I want him,' Jack said. For a moment the entire perplexing situation coalesced into the face of one man. Sarvur Khan personified the mutiny and all the murders, the brutality and the shocking breach of faith. 'I want him dead.' He remembered the face in his recurring nightmare. Sarvur Khan.

'That's not like you, Jack.' Elliot reverted from an officer of the 113th to becoming a friend.

Jack felt Jane's gaze fixed on him. He didn’t care; they could all think whatever they liked. He had seen Sarvur Khan working as a trusted servant in the Mess, and now the Pathan was heavily involved in the mutiny of children, women and men of the 113th. He had seen Khan personally throw a baby into a fire. 'I want him dead,' he repeated. 'We have to eradicate this poison from India before it infects us all.'

'It seems to have already affected you,' Elliot said.

'I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Lieutenant Elliot!' Jack snapped.

'Yes, sir.' Elliot stiffened to attention as the men looked around, interested in raised voices from their officers.

'Murdering black bastards.' Fairbairn glowered at Jane and Mary as if they were in some way responsible for all the ills of India. 'We should kill every single one of them. Show them all what happens when they oppose England.'

'Control yourself, Lieutenant!' Jack understood Fairbairn's anger and humiliation, yet he knew that indiscriminate slaughter was not the answer. 'And watch your language when there are ladies present.'

'They're not ladies, they're—' Fairbairn started, until Jack glowered at him and ordered him to tour the sentries.

'Ensure every man has his bayonet loose in his scabbard; make sure their picket route overlaps their neighbours,' Jack said. 'My apologies ladies; feelings are running a little high at present.'

Jane nodded graciously. 'It's understandable, Captain Windrush.'

'Mrs. Niven,' Jack tried to keep his voice gentle. 'Could you tell us what happened to you? Start at the beginning, please.'

'I am Jane Niven,' Jane spoke quietly yet with some authority. 'I act as a tutor to the children of the officers and sometimes the men.'

'Why did you not go to Cawnpore with the other women and children?' Lieutenant Kent sounded nervous.

'Colonel Jeffreys decided I am not British enough.' Jane faced him squarely. 'He said the British women might feel uncomfortable with Eurasians – half-breeds, he called us – along with them.'

Jack stifled his desire to swear. He remembered Myat, the Burmese girl he’d been so attracted to as a griffin ensign, only to learn she was married to a British sergeant. 'You are very welcome with us.' He injected iron into his tone, in case Fairbairn or any other of his officers objected. 'And if anybody, officer or other rank, treats either of you as anything other than a lady, you let me know.'

He was not sure what expression crossed Jane's face. He only knew he had said the right thing. Even the quiet Mary, palpably shocked by her experiences, gave him a small smile and a long look from under her eyelashes.

A parrot screeched nearby. Mary started and Jane took her arm. 'It's all right, Mary.'

'We've got pickets out,' Jack said. 'My men know their job. You're safe.'

The women nodded, with Mary looking at Jack as if he was her saviour. He frowned and continued. 'Now, Mrs. Niven, could you tell me what happened this morning?'

'It was last night. We were at home, and the sepoys came.' Although she was sitting on a squared off block with her back straight, and her head held proudly, the tremble in Jane's voice gave away the emotions within her. She looked away.

'They grabbed Mary, and one was going to stab her with his bayonet. She escaped, and we ran.'

There was so much left unsaid that Jack nearly asked for details. He tried to picture the scene; two women alone in a bungalow, not thought sufficiently British to save, not thought Indian enough by the sepoys to leave alone. Two unprotected women and a horde of soldiers bursting in, intent on murder and maybe rape – how had they escaped?

'We did not know where to go,' Jane continued. 'We heard firing from the officers' bungalows, and the soldiers' barracks were on fire, so we hid in the forest.'

Jack imagined them sheltering under the trees, watching as the sepoys killed and plundered.

'Then the sowars came, searching for British soldiers. They found two privates near us and killed them both. The first private fought hard and strangled a sowar. The second soldier made a lot of noise as they hacked him to pieces. We saw the sowars looting the store hut, and then we thought they would not be back there, so we hid until you came.'

'Was your daughter badly hurt?' Jack indicated Mary who now sat with her back to a carved pillar, mouth slightly open, staring into nothing. She had somehow managed to cobble her torn dress together.

'My daughter?' Jane frowned. 'Mary Lambert's not my daughter; she's my assistant!'

'I'm sorry.' Jack apologised immediately. 'I thought…'

'You thought that because we are both Eurasian, we must be related?' Jane's voice was as cold as anything Jack had ever heard.

'I thought you were a mother looking after her daughter.' Jack felt the colour rise to his cheeks.

'I never knew my mother.' Mary's voice was soft and rendered more attractive by her faint Indian accent.

'I never knew mine, either,' Jack told her and immediately pressed shut his mouth. Why on earth had he made that admission? Fortunately, none of the officers appeared to have heard or understood the implications, although Elliot was watching him through narrowed eyes. Jane lifted a hand as if in sympathy and dropped it just as quickly. A pi-dog howled outside, setting off chattering from the monkeys.

'What do we do now, sir?' Elliot brought Jack back to the matter in hand.

'We go to the nearest British garrison town,' Jack had made his decision. 'Cawnpore.'

'That's where the Colonel sent the rankers' families,' Kent said.

'How far is Cawnpore?' Prentice asked.

Book Details

AUTHOR NAME: Malcolm Archibald

BOOK TITLE: Windrush: Cry Havelock (Jack Windrush Book 4)

GENRE: Historical Fiction

SUBGENRE: War & Military Fiction

PAGE COUNT: 298