Windrush: Jayanti's Pawns (Jack Windrush Book 5) - Malcolm Archibald

Historical War Fiction Set In 19th Century India

Windrush: Jayanti's Pawns (Jack Windrush Book 5) by Malcolm Archibald

Book excerpt

On the 6th May, British artillery started bombarding suspected insurgent strongpoints in Bareilly. Next day, with the dust and smoke still drifting across the city, Campbell drove in his column without resistance. The enemy had fled.

'We’re still chasing Jayanti.' Jack lit another cheroot, coughed, and sat on the chair next to Elliot. A servant salaamed and brought a brass bowl, brimming with water.

'Do we know where she is?'

'Not yet, Arthur. Colonel Hook suggests that we ask the prisoners.'

Elliot snorted. 'I'm sure they will willingly tell all before we hang them.' He looked up. 'How's your Pushtu? Alternatively, will they speak Hindustani? I can speak about a dozen words in total.'

'I know a few words, and I know good translator,' Jack said.

'Do you mean Mary?' Elliot lifted the flask again.

'I do,' Jack said.

Elliot swallowed. 'It could be difficult for her.'

'I won't force her,' Jack said. 'I'll give her a choice.'

'I know your choices.' Elliot took another pull at his silver flask. 'Take it or take something worse.'

'I won't be like that with Mary.' Jack smiled. 'I like her.' Jack waited for Elliot's reaction.

'Only like the woman, or do you more than like the woman? Do you like her as much as you liked Helen?'

Jack considered. 'I think Mary is a better person than Helen.'

'That is not what I asked, my verbally elusive Captain Windrush,' Elliot said.

Jack smiled. 'I know it's not. I will tell you the answer when I know it myself.'

Elliot nodded. 'Be careful, Jack, that is all I ask.'

'At present, I need Mary as a translator,' Jack said.

'You could ask one of the Company wallahs. They work with the natives; they have to speak their languages.'

'The sepoys mutinied against the Company,' Jack said. 'I doubt they would talk to a Company officer.'

Elliot nodded. 'Will they be any more willing to talk to a woman? How will you convince your prisoners to talk?'

Jack shrugged. 'I've seen the Sikhs burning their prisoners alive. I could offer to hand the sepoys over to them.'

'Others might do that, Jack. You wouldn’t.' Elliot leaned back in his cane chair. 'We're supposed to be officers and gentlemen, representatives of the most civilised nation on earth, and here we are condoning murder and torture. Thank God that Sir Colin is against such slaughter. Our men want blood though. To them, any native could be a pandy, and the only good pandy is a dead pandy.'

Jack nodded. 'You're right there. We may pay for this brutality later.' He thought of the black-turbaned woman slicing at the injured Green. 'The trouble is, the enemy can be every bit as barbaric, so atrocity leads to retaliation.'

'They are very like us, and we are very like them,' Elliot said. 'That's what worries me. We announce our progressive civilisation and Christianity and then act as badly as the enemy.' He shrugged and poured more whisky down his throat. 'It's enough to drive a man away from drink.'

'I've allocated a permanent sentry for Mary and placed her in a tent in the centre of the camp, between our lines and the 42nd. No pandy will dare try attacking her.' Jack stood up. 'I'll see if she agrees to translate.'

'Be careful, Jack.' Elliot raised his flask in salute. 'Don't get too attached to her. A girl like Mary will only ruin your career.'

Jack nodded. He knew Elliot was correct.

Hutton saluted as Jack approached the tent. 'Good afternoon, sir.' He kept his face immobile.

'Good afternoon, Hutton. Is the lady at home?' Jack scratched on the canvas and waited for Mary to invite him in.

'Of course, I'm at home!' Mary answered. 'Come in, Captain Jack.'

'I need your help,' Jack said as he entered.

Mary smiled. 'You should never try to be a diplomat, Jack. You’re too blunt for that.' She stood up from her charpoy and stretched her arms. 'What can I do for you?'

'I need your language skills.' Jack explained the situation.

'These prisoners you want me to question.' Mary was frowning. 'When you’ve questioned them, what will happen to them?'

'Oh, they'll be hanged.'

'I thought so.' Mary sat back down. 'I've seen enough suffering in this war, Jack.'

'I'm not asking you to torture them.'

'No, you’re asking me to help interrogate people who know we’re going to hang them.'

'They’re traitors and rebels.' Jack fell back on traditional beliefs.

'Or patriots and men whom our actions forced to rebel.' Mary countered him without losing her patience. 'Do you think they will help you, knowing their death is inevitable whatever they say?'

'You have something up your sleeve, Mary,' Jack said. 'Come on now, out with it!'

'Freedom,' Mary said. 'Offer them their freedom if they co-operate.'

'They might lie to save themselves.' Jack sat cross-legged on the floor, not caring how undignified a position it was.

Mary's smile always took him by surprise. 'They might lie anyway, knowing it doesn’t matter what they say.'

'Yes.' Jack tried to retain his patience. 'But how can we trust them? They'll tell us anything for freedom.'

Mary's smile broadened. 'If any of them know where Jayanti is, make him guide you there, and you will only free him when you know he's not lying.'

'You are a cunning lady.' Jack sighed. 'You have all the answers.'

'Why, thank you, kind sir.' Mary sunk into a graceful curtsey. Jack was unsure if her eyes were friendly or mocking.

Even with the offer of freedom, few of the prisoners were willing to be helpful. Most sat in silence as Mary asked questions, with some replying with shouted slogans and threats. Only three responded to Jack's request; one was a Pathan from the Khyber, and the other two had been sowars in the Company's cavalry, high-class Hindus with land and families.

'We'll speak to these three,' Jack decided, 'and ignore the others.'

The sowar mutineers were proud men, defiant despite their capture. They answered Jack's questions with short, sharp answers and glared at him.

'Of course, I know of Jayanti,' the first sowar said.

'Everybody knows about the devil woman,' the second replied, 'except the proud sahibs.'

'Only Shiva can catch her,' the first sowar said. 'The sahibs will need my help.'

'I can lead you to her lair,' the second offered, 'for a thousand rupees and a fast horse.'

'Why are you helping?' Jack asked the final question.

'To get back to my family,' the first mutineer said.

'To get back to my family,' the second sowar gave an identical answer.

Jack sent both away. 'I don't trust them,' he said.

'Would you prefer to see the Pathan?' Mary sounded amused. 'Pathans kill for fun and rob as a matter of course.'

'Bring him in,' Jack said. 'The mutineers have already broken their faith and now say they are willing to betray one of their own. I would trust them as far as a wooden threepenny bit.'

The Pathan was tall and lean, with a face that would give Satan nightmares and even in chains, he looked as if he would murder his brother for a handful of gold mohurs.

'Your name?' Jack had sufficient experience with the men of the 113th to recognise a rogue.

'Batoor.' The Pathan held Jack's gaze without fear. Jack had heard that if a Pathan met Queen Victoria, he would look her in the eye and shake hands as if to say, “I'm as good a person as you are". People also reckoned Pathans as faithless, thieving and predatory, while their mothers prayed that their sons became famed robbers. With this fellow Batoor, all these stereotypes appeared to be correct.

'So you claim to know the whereabouts of Jayanti, even though she is a Hindu and you are a Pathan?'

Batoor grunted. 'I know where she may be,' he said.

That’s the most honest answer so far. One point for the Pathan.

'You were captured fighting against us; why would you help us now?'

'I was fighting for money,' Batoor said. 'I have reasons for being here, and if I help you, I will be free again.'

Jack glanced at Mary, who nodded. 'That makes sense,' she said. 'I would love to know what his reasons were.' She gave a half smile. 'Being a Pathan, it will be something to do with money or Pashtunwali.'

'What in God's name is Pashtunwali?'

Mary smiled. 'Aren't you glad I’m here to educate you, Captain Jack? Pukhtunwali is the Pathan code of honour. They must give fugitives refuge and protection, they must give hospitality, even to an enemy, and they have to avenge any insult to the family or the tribe.'

Jack eyed Batoor and nodded. The Pathan held his gaze. With his shaven head and long beard, he looked every inch a warrior. 'I've seen you before,' Jack said. 'You fired a jezzail at me at the Kaisarbagh!' He waited for Mary to translate.

Batoor smiled. 'I was at the Kaisarbagh, and I fired at many British soldiers. You might have been one of them.'

'Good God, man!' Jack shook his head. 'Why are you at Bareilly now? Do you hate us so much?'

Batoor's smile didn’t waver. 'As the woman says, it has something to do with Pashtunwali.'

Jack was beginning to respect this man. In a different world, he would have fitted into the 113th without difficulty. 'If you are free, would you fight against us again?'

Batoor rattled his chains. 'I might. I might not.'

'He's honest by his own lights,' Mary added after she translated.

'You're a lying, treacherous murdering blackguard, Batoor,' Jack stood up, 'and I can't think of any reason why I should trust you.'

Batoor rattled his chains again. 'You don't trust me, but you need me. Who else can lead you to the devil woman who plans to destroy your Company?'

'Nobody, damn you.'

'Will you keep your word, Captain Windrush?' Batoor turned the conversation around, with Mary hiding her smile as she translated.

'Of course, I will, I'm a British officer!' Jack had to control his temper.

Batoor's laugh was high pitched, and as cynical as anything Jack had ever heard. 'Only the British believe their own lies. I am asking you, Captain Windrush, man to man – will you keep your word?'

Mary raised her eyebrows as she translated. 'He's not wrong, Jack, Lord Dalhousie is not the only British official to distort the truth to the native peoples of India.'

Jack frowned. Brought up to believe that a British gentleman always honoured his word, he still found it hard to believe that some broke that code.

Batoor spoke again, and Mary translated. 'Batoor is asking the same question, Jack. Will you keep your word? Will you free him if he leads you to this woman?'

'Of course I will, damn it!' Jack felt his anger rise again. Taking a deep breath, he faced Batoor. 'Yes, Batoor, I will keep my promise. You have my word on it as a British officer and…' Jack extended his hand. 'I do not know what crimes you have committed in the past or who you have killed or why, but if you take my hand, we will shake on it, man to man.'

Batoor looked to Mary for the translation before he slid his hand hesitantly into Jack's. They shook, and Jack knew that whatever happened, he would keep his word to Batoor.

'One more thing.' Jack had come prepared. Taking a small packet from his pocket, he drew his sword and emptied the contents onto the blade. The white powder formed a little pyramid on the steel.

'Take the salt, warrior, and swear your loyalty to me.'

Batoor's grin was white behind his beard. He put his hand on the blade, lifted a pinch of salt and placed it on his lips. Mary translated his words. 'I am your man, Captain Windrush.'

'If you let me down,' Jack said, 'I will hunt you down and kill you.'

Batoor grinned. 'Yes, Captain Windrush. And if you let me down, I will kill the woman and then you.'

Mary's expression didn’t alter as she translated Batoor's words. 'Accept that Jack,' Mary added. 'I'm in no danger as long as you are true.'

Jack fought down his recurring anger. 'We understand each other,' he said to Batoor. Raising his voice, he called in the guards and had the Pathan taken back to confinement.

'When are we leaving?' Mary asked.

'We?' Jack said. 'You are not coming.'

'You took me last time,' Mary said. 'When you were searching for the regiment's missing women.'

'This is different,' Jack said. 'This is a military operation, and there are still pandies around.'

'There were more pandies around last time,' Mary reminded. 'And you'll need a translator if you are wandering around the countryside, or have your language skills improved in the last few minutes?' Her smile was as sweet as a hunting cobra.

Book Details

AUTHOR NAME: Malcolm Archibald

BOOK TITLE: Windrush: Jayanti's Pawns (Jack Windrush Book 5)

GENRE: Historical Fiction

SUBGENRE: War & Military Fiction

PAGE COUNT: 307